#honestly this was exACTLY what i thought about arcane before i started watching it

[mossangelll]

please please please! is there a part 2 of "bath time" of yandere!jinx? that was so good, like, real good... i felt butterflies in my stomach. i hope you consider writing a second part because i feel like i'm going insane. i need her so much:(

thank you for your service! your writing is so good. i hope your pillow is cold in both ways♡

"please, don't stop writing about her..." i beg as i kneel weakly in front of you.

so you’re the reason my pillow has been nice and cold recently…ty 😌

a/n: so fun to write! this jinx is very delusional and doesn’t even know what the word ‘boundary’ means lmao but i was also a bit stressed writing this bcs i never planned for there to be a sequel but there was a lot of interest. idk if they want to be tagged but ty to the person in my dms who inspired me to write pt2! what i’m trying to say is idk if it’ll live up to expectations but i hope you like!! also, i won’t stop writing for jinx or arcane for a while ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

bed time 🛏️💤 - sequel to bath time

cw: yandere behaviour, unhealthy relationship, drugging, dubcon, noncon, nsfw - mdni 18+ only

Something was wrong with Jinx, you didn’t know what exactly but you could tell the moment she guided you to your seat in the makeshift dining room room, hands jittery and pink eyes darting everywhere but your face.

She bit her chapped lips as she watched each forkful you took of the dinner she painstakingly prepared, perfectly in time with every one of your own hesitant bites. You tried your best to hide your discomfort but god! She didn’t even try and pretend to eat her own food - so much so that her fork was scraping against the plate, making you wince with each screech of metal hitting ceramic.

The silence, offset by the incessant skrr of her scraping, was unnerving; usually, you had a hard time keeping track of all the topics she hurled at you at the dinner table, about an outside world you were long since disconnected from. Honestly, it felt like she did it on purpose, to get a rise out of you so she finally had a valid excuse to punish you, not like she needed one. You were experienced in how “hands on” she could be when putting you in your place and you shuddered at the thought.

You were just about to take your last bite, or maybe ask her about her day to clear the air - you didn’t know, your head was starting to fill with static and your fork wavered between the plate and your mouth before she beat you to the punch.

She sprang up from her chair with so much fervour it fell at her feet as she skipped over to where you were sat to wrap her arms around your shoulders and nuzzle into your neck.

What was up with her? Your fork was still hovering in mid-air and you raised an eyebrow, one she thankfully couldn’t see, at her antics. Sure, Jinx was…eccentric to say the least but this? This was strange even for someone like her.

“How ya feeling toots? M’hoping you liked dinner, put a looooot of effort into it, y’know. Just for you.”

Her muffled voice sounded sickeningly sweet and airy against the delicate skin of your neck causing you to bristle at the feeling. The arms around you tightened and her breathing sharpened; if you were anyone else, you wouldn’t have seen through her almost imperceptible tells but she’s had you for a while and being able reading Jinx like a book comes with the unwanted territory.

You forced yourself to relax and scoop the now cold food into your mouth as you audibly hummed your satisfaction to appease her ever-changing moods. There. This should calm her down.

“I’m good, thanks Jinx. The food is so delici-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as your hold on the cutlery suddenly weakened. You couldn’t even react as you watched, or rather heard seeing as your vision was fading in and out with each passing moment, your fork clatter to the ground. The noise was dulled down by whatever was wrong with you.

Your head was all stuffed up, like it was crammed to the brim with dozens of fluffy cotton balls. You tried to shake the feeling away but instead came down with a horrific case of vertigo that left your brain reeling and your eyes clenched shut. The corrugated sheet walls, covered in Jinx’s colourful, tell-tale graffiti and copious doodles of the two of you, seemed to close in on you as your world quickly began to spin. A shaky hand darted out to grip Jinx’s forearm in search of some form of stability, uncaring of who exactly you had to rely on in order to achieve it.

Jinx finally straightened up, still keeping you in her tight grasp, and one of her hands slipped to touch your forehead, tutting at what she found.

“You’re burning up toots, gotta get you to lie down.”

Hot. So fucking hot.

You hadn’t even realised until she’d pointed it out but she was right. Too preoccupied in the midst of your delirium to notice you felt so incredibly hot and the sensation had spread from the top of your head to each of your extremities; not a single inch of your body was spared from the onslaught of pure heat setting you ablaze from the inside out.

Jinx scooped up your limp body in her arms, she was more athletic than she seemed from years of carrying heavy explosives but it never failed to surprise you, and carried you over to the bed you shared. The fairy lights strung across the small room were so blurry they melted into a mess of light and the polaroid pictures she took of you, back before you knew of her existence and she was just a stalker, made you feel as though you were in some awful, twisted nightmare.

Perhaps you were coming down with a sudden fever and you would have to lie there and let her care for you, although begrudgingly. You expected her to run off in search of medicine, this was concerning even to you and she had freaked out over much less, but instead she lay down next to you, her hands going from caressing your hot face to exploring the dips and curves of your body.

Her hand was cool as it came down to rest on your thigh, seemingly penetrating through the layers you had put on and somehow branding your still-flaming skin. The hand not on your thigh inspected your face, prodding here and there and opening your drooping eyelids to inspect something.

The look of pure panic and anxiety you expected to be on her face was confusingly absent, replaced with an oddly lustful expression. Her cheeks were ruddy, her lips parted and shiny from where she kept wetting them with her tongue and her eyes…her eyes startled you. Jinx’s pupils were blown out and only a slight ring of pink was visible, your heart began to race as you realised something very bad and completely out of your control was unfolding.

“Huh,” your captor huffed out, face dangerously close to yours, “He sure did up the dosage…maybe a little too much…” Jinx’s voice trailed off but you could just about make out what she muttered under her breath. You found that you didn’t care enough to figure out what exactly she meant, the delirious state you were in decided that for you.

“Angel, you really don’t understand what you do to me, do ya?” her voice came out powder- soft like the snow you used to jump in and make snow angels in when you were younger. But you didn’t know if she was whispering or if your hearing really was that messed up.

Her blue flyaways tickled the side of your face as she bent down to give a tentative kiss to your neck. Then, she peeled off each layer of clothing stuck to your body with such an ease that it made you question if she’s done this to you before.

“J-Jinx? What’re you doing?” Your voice came out slurred and no matter how badly you wanted to push her away and run, your body simply refused to listen to the devastated wails of your brain. Right now, all you wanted was to reject her smothering hold but you lacked the energy to actually do anything substantial, even clenching your fist seemed to drain you even further.

She dismissed your worried question with a less than pleased shhh and placed several more gentle pecks down the column of your throat and as much as it pained you to admit, it felt good. More than good actually - it was orgasmic. Each touch of her lips she gave you seemed to douse the raging flames for a moment before reigniting them, causing them to burn brighter than they did before and you couldn’t help but keen and writhe at the utter torture you were going through.

She perked up at the strangled noise that forced its way out of you, eyes narrowing in mischief and her lips curling up into a cruel smile.

“I knew you’d like that!” You decided then and there you hated how decisive she sounded, as if she had your body and soul mapped out on the palm of her hand, as if she knew you better than you knew yourself. Her lips then kissed a trail from your neck to your navel, stopping to nibble and lick at the ticklish skin there and giggling at your minute squirms, “It got me thinking, toots, after our bath time - what else can little ol’ me get away with?” She whispered the last part against your soft skin, voice lost to your flesh and mind.

Before you can start to decode what exactly she meant, she gives your stomach a final kiss before yanking down the final layer separating you from what she do badly yearned for. And maybe what you now yearned for too.

You can barely hold your head up to watch her movements, instead settling for tilting your head to the side but even that had you feeling like a shimmer-sick addict.

“P-please…” your weak voice warbled out and clearly Jinx had taken pity on you. Fuck, you didn’t even know what you were begging for but you knew that you couldn’t go on like this for any longer.

She nodded sympathetically, eyes wide and blown out as she reached out to cradle your heavy head, proving that she didn’t really feel bad for you; that you knew even in this addled state of yours. Her lips met yours and her tongue darted out to bite at your bottom lip, her way of asking for entry. Her tongue in your mouth placated the almost painful arousal you felt, with Jinx fighting for dominance when you weren’t even putting up a fight, happy enough to sit there and take whatever she gives you.

Your vision was hazy but you could see and feel the string of saliva connecting you both - hell, Jinx looked just as fucked up as you felt. The impish Jinx you were accustomed to was gone and all that was left in her wake was a woman who would stop at nothing to keep you with her.

Your arms felt like lead and you couldn’t even reach out to smooth your sweaty hand against your captor’s arm. You just wanted assurance this was real, that you weren’t dreaming this up, that she would help you get better no matter what it cost you.

“It’s a shame you’re like this, would’ve been nice to feel your hands on me.” She lamented with a pout but she was quick to dismiss the thought as she looked down at your body, all pretty and sweet and worked up just for her. The wetness between your thighs seemed to shimmer at her, as if it was proof that all her patience was finally manifesting in her dream come true. She wiggled out of her tight pants and top, she didn’t want to waste what you lovingly presented to her on a silver platter, and made more of a show of slipping out of her underwear before getting to business.

Her lithe form oh so slowly slithered down the mattress until she was directly facing you soaking wet pussy. You didn’t have the time nor faculty to close your legs from her invasive gaze before she dove in head-first, slurping at the liquid ambrosia dripping from you.

You let out a shocked gasp, the only thing you can manage despite needing to let out a guttural, full body moan, not expecting her to do anything so soon. She continued in that manner, licking long stripes up your cunt and swirling her tongue around your clit until you were nothing but a useless puddle beneath her.

You felt your vision waver and everything faded to black as the static in your mind only grew stronger - and that’s when your orgasm hit you like a freight train. And yet, the fiery longing within you only stopped for a mere second before returning in its full glory, making you more desperate than you were before and you still had no idea what caused this.

The feeling was too much and you passed out as Jinx was still eating you out but when you came to she was now fingering you, wrist tense and three fingers pistoning in and out of you with rapid determination.

Out again.

Back again; she had one of your nipples in her mouth, rolling it against her tongue, as he caressed your sensitive clit, doing the same to herself.

Out again.

Back again; she was kissing the skin at your thighs and leaving bruising hickies that stained the upper half of your legs and although you knew you should be mad, protest, do anything, you just moaned in abject pleasure. She looked up from where she was stamping her ownership to see you staring and couldn’t help but slowly smile, before saying in her husky voice, “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll never think about leaving me ever again. Just stay awake long enough for it, y’hear?”

Out again.

You woke up again, unsure of how long it had been since you last passed out, and this time her scrawny arms were manoeuvring the dead weight of your body, guiding your hips to slot just underneath hers so she could take up all the work of visciously grinding against you. With each drag of her hip against yours, your clits bumped together and you groaned as loudly as your tired vocal cords could manage.

She leaned forwards, still grinding against you as the slick squelches echoed in the room, and grasped both of your tits in her hands. Her nails dug into the softness of your chest before fondling the crescent marks she left behind and twisting at your sore nipples, causing you to yelp and her to darkly chuckle.

You moaned once the pain ebbed away and found yourself mesmerised looking at Jinx’s face; the low light in the room cast deep shadows across her face and only seemed to accentuate the feral look in her eyes, the sensual way she bit her lip as she looked on at you - you needed more.

“Fuck, toots, don’t want this to ever end. You’re so good for me.” Jinx moaned out as one hand retreated in order to play with her own chest. Her head was flung back and you watched, entranced, when her long braids fell to the floor and at the same time, the pale expanse of her throat was exposed to you. How badly you wanted to sink your teeth in and bite.

It was odd to see Jinx so vulnerable in front of you and it only confused your addled mind further but instead you were made to focus on the carnal desires flowing through your veins and igniting your blood.

You didn’t know how it was possible to orgasm again after already having so many prior to this, but once again you felt that burning pressure build up inside of you like getting a jolt from an exposed live wire. It bubbled up in the tips of your toes and shot up your spine, your weak body overwhelmed by the rapture Jinx had caused within you. Clearly she wasn’t unaffected by your display as her own high pitched moans and grunts reached your eyes and the grinding of her hips sped up so you both could ride out your highs together, hand in hand.

You couldn’t stop the falling tears as the torment from the past few hours finally died down at last and you could close your eyes for the last time that night and rest.

Once Jinx’s own orgasm slowly faded away into residual jolts of pleasure and then nothingness, she disentangled her trembling legs from yours and spooned your sleeping body, covering up your naked bodies with the blanket all whilst panting out of exhaustion.

“Nighty night, sweets.” Jinx waited until your breathing finally started to equalise, not that it was really necessary; you were so drugged out you probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, never mind wake up.

Then, she turned away and fumbled around in the crate next to the bed she used for storage and located the vial, smooth and cool and safe in her hands. Sure, she was upset your first time the way she intended it to happen was stolen from her, she could blame Singed and his inability to do things in moderation, but still she could sleep at night knowing she got to share such a special moment with you.

masterlist

[pumpkinpatchmaniac]

ARCANE SEASON 2 ARC 3 SPOILERS‼️‼️

I noticed this while watching episode 7: “Pretend like its the first time”, not that small of a detail but:

(I’m sorry if it is incoherent i just really needed to get this out.)

During the innovative party scene where Ekko dances with Powder, the song that plays is ”ma meilleure ennemie” by Stromae & Pomme, which translates to ”my best (female) enemy” which clearly refers to Powder, or Jinx.

In the intro begins a small chant where they say

Je t’aime, je t’attends […]

Meaning “ i love you, i am waiting for you” which clearly explains Ekko before coming to terms that Jinx no longer is Powder, since he fell inlove with Powder he keeps waiting for Powder to come back. This mental dilemma of having to accept that even if its the same body, same face its not the same person anymore, which is later supported by the first chorus where Stromae sings

La pire des bénédiction, La plus belle des malédictions

“The worse of all blessings, the best of all curses”, Powder was the best thing that happened to him while Jinx was the worse thing which makes this relationship with her- this connection, both a blessing and a curse.

But what made the scene more interesting was when they danced and the part

Mais ma meilleure ennemie, c'est toi [but my best enemy, that is you.]

Fuis-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi [flee from me, the worse is you and i]

Mais si tu cherches encore ma voix [but if you keep searching for my voice]

Oublie-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi [forget me, the worse is you and i]

I know we all wanted Ekko to stay in that timeline and be happy with Powder but remember season 1 where- whilst every Jinx or Vi centric episodes always began with a flashback, the Ekko centric one started from the present. Indicating that Ekko forces himself to always look forward than trying to let the past get to him. For exempel in - please correct me if i’m wrong, season 1 episode 5 when Vi said that she should’ve been there to help Ekko, he only says ”that’s is a good way to drive yourself crazy”. He immidiantly shut down any thought of what could’ve been, indirectly forcing Vi to think about the present. Especially afterwards when Vi talks about getting Powder back when Ekko has already fully acknowledge that there is only Jinx. All of this makes him being in that timeline more difficult for him since it is exactly what he wanted to avoid, being stuck in what could’ve been.

Dancing with Powder just engraves this furthee into him, this is unhealthy for Ekko since it’s the relation ship between him and Jinx. As to reiterate ”if you keep searching for Powder’s, voice, stop, it will just drive you crazy”

Also to refer to the pre-chorus!

First one:

Tu sais c'qu'on dit [you know what they say]

Sois près d'tes amis les plus chers [stay close to your dearest friends]

Mais aussi [but even]

Encore plus près d'tes adversaires [even closer to your adversaries (i.e antagonists, villains)

And the second one

Je t'avais dit : "Ne regarde pas en arrière" [i have told you : “dont look back]

Le passé qui te suit te fait la guerre [the past will follow you and take you to war]

(This is pretty self explanatory)

Additionally, before the kiss scene where Ekko says “can we pretend like it’s the first the first time”, further insinuates the whole, “this is my present even thought it’s a part of your past”.

TL:DR

This scene hurts

(Authors note:

I know it is not a small detail and not that significant but i really wanna acknowledge how every part of the Arcane series have a significance into the story. And honestly i needed to vent. It was so fun last night watching the scene and hearing ”le pire, c’est toi et moi” and just go ”oh, word?”. I am not French but i studied it so it just felt good from that POV too.

Edit: i was not aware that Arcane gets critizied over how litteral the songs are to the scene but i still stand by my point about why i really liked the song and this scene specifically)

[sovamurka]

@dors-ee

Oh! You made remember so many things. I'm sorry in advance for the amount of words I'm about to produce aggagshdhdjj

To be honest, this is exactly what Riot did prior to Arcane and a little bit after its premiere. Throughout the years I understood more and more that these fuckers should never be trusted with anything so I take every damn thing with a grain of salt. It makes life more enjoyable 😗

But if we speak about financial opportunities of, for a lack of a better word,

💥jinxomance💥...

They didn't really know what could bring them more money.

...

You know what, let me tell you a story called ✨Riot's most notable attempts to explore Jinx's romantic potential throughout the years✨

I'm gonna start with something that doesn't really count. Doesn't count at all, actually. But still kinda does, in my opinion (and my heart 😆). An official crack ship that Riot's staff clearly put for the sake of making a pun. it's totally not the reason I decided to write this post at all, I swear I present to you Jhin/Jinx - the first attempt to toy with the idea of jinxomance.

It was obviously a one-time joke, but I'm so glad Riot's first thought was to make a Valentine's Day card about two characters whose four-letter name starts with J and who are cruelly misunderstood artists in nature (THIS IS EXACTLY MY TYPE OF HUMOUR, I'M SO SORRY, THIS IS EXACTLY THE SHIT I'D PULL IF I WAS THERE). I love it, honestly, it makes me feel like I overdosed on ascorbic acid in the best way possible.

*sighs*

Yes, Star Guardian counts too, actually! In a very "mahou shoujo classic slight yuri that leads nowhere, but it is not really queerbaiting because there's almost nothing going on between anyone, let alone these two" way (you can tell I've been a victim of this one too many times 🚬💀), but it DOES count. Basically, they let Jinx have quotes and moments that could be read BOTH platonically and romantically (Jinx is a tsundere-type character in sg universe so it gives a LOT of freedom to interpretations 🤣☝️). Unfortunately for lc enjoyers, chances of something going on between the girls seemingly went down the drain. For many, many, maaaany reasons. But especially when Ezreal came in. I'm sorry, I have to say it, ezlux has more support from Riot than any other ship combined since it's their absolute favourite go-to pairing, with which they can play safe all the time. All in all, it can be considered the first and it seems like the last time they tried to play with the concept of somewhat romantic lightсаnnon.

"But Valoran Town-" First, Valoran Town is meant to be a wild rift ad in a cute animated form where they made all their poster characters friends, so it's very logical Riot would put them in there as bffs, especially considering they made lc bffs in sg before. Second, all the possible romantic undertones between any characters are erased completely (again, except for ezlux, BECAUSE IT'S SAFE TO PLAY).

Also, off topic but kinda not, I noticed how animators made Jinx and Ez do the targonian lovers pose in the intro of Valoran Town. Like, in a very blatant way. But it doesn't lead anywhere (it's just an easter egg). Although, personally, I think it would be fun to watch if they acted on implications.

*coughs*

However, the most famous (prior to Arcane) and undoubtedly clear attempt to make a pairing with our bombastic lady is the whole ordeal of Jinx and Kayn in Odyssey. And not gonna lie, it worked on me because the concept is batshit hilarious while being very suggestive. But this level of blatantly horny dynamic did not work for general public so Riot never attempted to do something like this again. They swept it under a rug and forgot about it, just like with the previous cases.

Despite what some fans (mostly lc ones in my experience) may tell you, jinxomance didn't work in terms of financial benefit. As a separate character? Yes. As a part of a pairing? No.

And then... came Fortiche with their timebomb agenda that slowly caved its way into Riot's chambers. Fortiche's relationship with this particular pairing is actually suspiciously simple 😑 because a lot of things suddenly start to make sense (like why their creative freedom is seen the most with these two characters - to the point where every timebomb scene could be considered a part of an art portfolio) when you learn that their first two projects for Riot were: 1) Get Jinxed music video (Jinx's character trailer); 2) Seconds cinematic (Ekko's character trailer). They're basically Fortiche's babies. It was seemingly pushed by them (even if unintentionally) to the point where certain people on the Riot team started to notice.

I can only guess what happened later.

From now on, everything that came after late 2019 - early 2020, when Arcane was finishing its development of season 1, could be considered an engagement test.

At this point it was pretty clear Riot understands that general public loves Jinx and Ekko as separate poster characters.

The question is, would people enjoy them as a couple (which, contrary to popular belief, doesn't happen often in league). Couple that, most importantly, could help make profit.

Would people buy twice as many things as they did before if they see these two together?

Would people engage with content more than they already do just to learn what both of their favourite characters are up to?

Would people be more inclined to invite new clients just so they could, for example, play the game™ with characters that have matching skins?

The answer is yes, judging by the general reception of this pairing after diabolical Arcane season 2 - the complete public adoration mixed with the absolute international success of "Ma Meilleure Ennemie" (performed by two of the most influential and talented artists of our generation) that exceeded all expectations (which I'm sure at least one of the producers is angry about, because they missed a huge financial opportunity by not giving it promotion - luckily, it was so good it didn't need one).

All in all, as long as timebomb continues to bring money to the company, it won't fade away in favor of other pairings. In fact, it's most likely that the company will focus their attention on it in an attempt to figure out how to make them even more profitable.

I know. Seems like a very materialistic and cruel view of things. But it is what it is, unfortunately.

[mdhwrites]

I know you've been asked this before, but still, now since toh has ended would you consider giving Arcane a chance? Not right away but maybe when feel like it. 👀

I promise it's not a bad show, I watched it after starting toh to pass the time. It's only 1 season for now and it has just 9 episodes, but these episodes are so packed! The world building is easy to grasp, the characters do interact, there's development, it has a diverse female cast and fighting scenes. There's at least 3 conflicts that interconnect at the end.

The thing about it that amazes me is that it does so much in such a little short time, 9 episodes only. I often compare it toh and wonder about how much toh could've done if they knew how to plan beforehand, because toh had all the time in the world in comparison. (I'm mentioning this because I'm also bitter about the shortening thing being thrown around to excuse the bad writing).

So I will 100% admit that Arcane sounds entirely up my alley. It's in a universe that has had literally over a decade to flesh out its lore and ideas, characters they've been working with for at least half the games life cycle, it has rave reviews, lesbians, the animation is GORGEOUS, I've actually heard surprisingly little analyzing the plot and that could be fun for me. I... just don't know why I haven't watched it. And it's not like I'm so busy as to not watch shows. I watch WAY too much Youtube and streams. That stuff is mostly mindless and pure entertainment and I can't make blogs or stories about it. But that might also be exactly why I don't watch much scripted content. See, I watch a lot of stuff while I'm on walks to have some noise going, or music while I think about writing ideas, or while I'm playing a game or the like. It's distraction. It's to turn off the part of my brain that's too wound up and emotional and analytical. Also a lot of media has the unfortunate problem of me going "What can I be inspired by this for?" Which if I was going full blast would be great! At 8k words a day, having things to distract me or keep my motor running would be almost necessary. And that's technically a conservative statement as when I first joined TOH, I did 200k words in 2 weeks. That's 15k a day. The fact that it took me months to burn out during that time period is a miracle. But when I'm depressed? Those ideas honestly hurt more than anything else. I still haven't done Amphibia blogs because I just can't get myself to bring my thoughts together independently on the subject for some reason despite the fact that I DO have things to talk about, whether that be talking about what sells the characters as family to me, what makes Sasha's introduction one of the best charismatic villains I've ever seen, how Hop Pop is showcase of fantasy trauma done right, why people CAN skip the first season and how insane that is and even for a more negative one: Why Marcy is so far easily the most awkward element of the show so far that I've seen. Not even bad but just not nearly as natural as the rest. And yes, while I'm still only at the First Temple, you can still send me Amphibia asks. It honestly helps my literal personality disorder to be responding to asks instead of making them myself.

I don't know. I wish I did. My head is a chaotic mess and I honestly just need to learn to calm down a lot more but my literal two main disciplines as a creator require my brain to be on. at maximum volume all the time. And it only gets worse when I go "Well what about Amphibia, or that TMNT series, or Molly Mcgee- Oh but you really ought to be looking for something new. Preferably something you can write for within its first week of airing. Even better if before then. Got to get that ENGAGEMENT after all! GROW YOUR COMMUNITY!" *sigh* And I don't want this to make you all feel bad. PLEASE let me know what you're interested in seeing me maybe talk about. I commonly forget about Arcane because it just flies under my radar for the most part for some reason. Just understand I'm slow to move. I'm trying to get better but I don't know when or if I'll ever be good at it. Edit: Because I feel like it, I do want to shout out a few channels I like to watch. Youtube: Noah Caldwell Gervais is one of the best video game essayists out there. When I talk about just putting on something to zen out to for a few hours... Well, I've watched his 8 hour Resident Evil Retrospective twice. He also has a great, dry sense of humor and great analytical skills. Todd in the Shadows is where I go for pop song reviews. Honestly, I'm pulled in more by his One Hit Wonderland Series and his Trainwreckords but it's also nice getting incite on modern pop music. If you're into animation, you NEED New Frame Plus in your life. Daniel Floyd is absolutely amazing at his job, he's ex-Pixar so that's not surprising, and pretty much all I know about animation comes from that channel. Absolutely phenomenal work. Twitch: CauseImDanJones is my favorite streamer period. Not only is his chill vibes immaculate, he has this insane talent to say the most bat shit crazy things and act like they're entirely normal. He never is an over the top streamer but he still manages some of that "WHAT JUST HAPPENED!?" energy those people have. JHobz296 is someone you likely know if you watch GDQ. For those who don't know him though: He's my go to for speedrun content. He does a lot of Kingdom Hearts speedruns, does a lot of Kingdom Hearts 2 Rando WAY better than I do and when he does variety, he keeps it laid back and casual. (I like chill streamers). Gilbot9000 is my last callout. He does a lot of fighting game streams and likes to throw it back old school, or play games with an old school vibe to them. He's a nice dude and a good friend of mine so I'd be remiss to not mention him.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself. 

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo​ card, and also for @railmereid​‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week. 

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.  

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.” 

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?” 

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?” 

“Shocking.” 

“What are you going to do, then?” 

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly. 

“A what?” 

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”  

“That’s… a good question, honestly.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?” 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly. 

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs. 

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.” 

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.” 

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.” 

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer. 

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan. 

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid? 

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess? 

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic. 

You’re used to that, though. 

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops. 

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?” 

“Please.” 

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake. 

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags. 

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?” 

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet. 

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?” 

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face. 

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.” 

“Like what?” 

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open. 

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily. 

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.” 

“Holy—” 

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face. 

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.” 

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —” 

You grin. “I came prepared, though!” 

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly. 

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused. 

“It’s essential viewing.” 

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you. 

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?” 

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better. 

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.” 

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message. 

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you. 

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder. 

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse. 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw. 

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks. 

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed. 

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.” 

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.” 

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?” 

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns. 

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.” 

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs. 

“Of course they are.” 

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning. 

“It’s all washable, Spencer.” 

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —” 

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist. 

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains. 

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed. 

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit. 

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close. 

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.” 

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum. 

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have. 

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen. 

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing. 

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up. 

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin. 

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing. 

His eyes light up. 

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun. 

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing. 

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?” 

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!” 

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile. 

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.” 

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white. 

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting. 

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing. 

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.” 

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly. 

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.” 

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.” 

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.” 

“Or we can pretend it is.” 

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under. 

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds. 

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight. 

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring. 

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.” 

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying. 

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.” 

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy — 

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath. 

“Safety?” 

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.” 

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”  

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —” 

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you. 

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation. 

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply. 

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.  

He stares. 

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it. 

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real. 

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.” 

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint. 

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

It really is. 

.

.

.

[alternateafterthought]

Arcane - Part 15

Ø  Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø  Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø  Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø  Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø  Warnings: None

Ø  Word Count: 1496

Ø  A/N: Hey guys… here is the next part of my Min Yoongi fic!! I know... 2 chapters in 2 days... I haven’t done that in a while!! Actually I think the last time I did something like this I had just started writing Golden Time and that was like... a year and a half ago so this is a huge thing for me!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! I would love and appreciate your feedback!! Thank you so much

PREV / NEXT

Yoongi had sat on the couch, surrounded by his brothers for the last 10 minutes, his tail wrapping around his own waist. He avoided all eye contact as they all stared at him, asking the simply and yet silent question;

"What happened, Yoongi?"

He shifted in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position with so many eyes on him, not really wanting to start their time here with that conversation. Yoongi finally let out a deep breath, shaking his head, already knowing he needed to have this conversation now before Y/N came home. He already knew it was going to be awkward when she got home, especially if they knew everything, even without them knowing anything, but it needed to be done.

"We thought you were doing well here." J-hope couldn't help but ask, concerned for his friend. "Are you in any danger?"

"No, no... god no..." Yoongi let out a laugh, before finally looking up to him. "Just..."

"Something did happen though." Namjoon spoke from the other end of the large couch, Jungkook having leaned into him.

"Some girl tried to..." Yoongi gestured to himself, hearing the protective growls coming from around the room. "Me, and Y/N went crazy on her. Threw her own friend out of the house because I wasn't comfortable."

"She protected you." Jimin couldn't help the slight awe in his words.

"So why are you so weird with her?" Taehyung asked the real question, having Jin turn to quiet him down. "What? There's no point in avoiding the question."

"No your right Tae, I just..."

"You locked yourself away and blamed yourself?" Jungkook stated the obvious as Yoongi nodded in conformation.

"Did you even know we were coming today?" Jimin asked from next to Yoongi.

"She told me yesterday, said if I wanted to, I could go back home with you when you leave." Yoongi shook his head in disbelief of the woman that saved him in so many more ways than even she knew. "Said I could take anything she's bought me because they were mine, and that she only wanted me to be comfortable."

"Oh my god..." J-Hope covered his mouth, staring wide eyed at Yoongi before smiling so wide he was almost laughing. "You like her." That caused all of them to sit up a little straighter as Yoongi looked down at his hands in his lap. "You really like her, like... your bonding with her."

"Hey guys, I'm back." Y/N's voice called from the door, struggling with the bags as she moved back into her home, the boys still staring at Yoongi in shock. "I'll leave all of this in the kitchen and you guys can help yourself." Y/N finally looked up, seeing the boys just sitting in the living room as she juggled the bags. "Is everything okay?"

Jin was the first to snap out of it, smiling softly at Y/N as he stood; "Here let me help you. Taehyung, Namjoon, since you two won't be cooking, come help me put this all away."

The two Jin called were quick to stand up, smiling warming at Y/N as they took all the bags from her, Taehyung stopping only for a moment; "Did you want anything to drink? Something cold? Tea? Coffee?"

"Oh thank you Tae." Y/N lifted a hand, asking to pet him which he took happily, feeling her scratch behind his ears as he nuzzled into her hand. "But I'm alright thank you. I've had so much water today I need to use the bathroom before anything else."

"Okay, Noona." Tae smiled, taking the rest of the bags from Y/N without question. "Go rest, we've got everything tonight."

"Is there anything else any of you would like?" Y/N offered the others who looked from Yoongi and then back to her with a smile.

"We're okay, thank you, Noona." Jungkook smiled widely, trying to ease the tension that hung over them all in this moment. 

"We're all pretty independent when it comes to this." J-Hope stood, coming to stand in front of Y/N to take off some attention from a stuttering Yoongi. "Why don't you go wash up, you've had a big day, I'll make sure nothing bad happens."

Y/N nodding, knowing what it was exactly that he was talking about, smiling softly at the man before making her way upstairs. She was overdue for a calming and relaxing bath where she didn't have to think for a while, maybe she'd be able to not think about Yoongi for a moment. Though as she shut her door, hearing the movements from downstairs, the hushed voices taking quickly, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop thinking about him.

"You are going to need to figure this out." J-Hope picked Yoongi up from his seat, staring at him so intensely that all the others jumped towards them both, concerned. "You have to figure out what it is exactly you are feeling, and you need to tell her honestly. You have to be very clear to her... because..."

"Because, what?" Yoongi's ears stood, his gaze narrowing towards his friend. "What is it you know about her?"

"It's not for me to tell you." J-Hope tried to take a step back, only for Yoongi to pull him back to towards him. "Just talk to her, please."

J-Hope walked away then, into the kitchen to help the others starting to prepare what they'll need to cook. Yoongi just stood in the living room before moving to walk upstairs where both his and Y/N's rooms were, seeing her closed door. He could hear the water running in her bathroom, already knowing it would be a while before she came back out, so for the first time since he moved in with her, Yoongi sat down in front of Y/N's door and waited for her.

Yoongi could hear the boys downstairs, even if they tried to be quiet as they started to cook, hearing Y/N in the bath. He must have been sitting in front of Y/N's door for around 20 minutes before he finally heard her walking about her bedroom, no doubt getting dressed before finally opening the door. When she looked around the hall, Y/N was surprised to see Yoongi sitting across from her bedroom door, running his hands over his tail.

"Yoongi, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, looking around them. "Why aren't you down with the boys?"

"I wanted to wait for you." Yoongi stood, fixing his clothes, dusting himself off. "I was hoping... we could... talk...?"

"Talk? Now?" Y/N looked towards the stairs where the happy chatter drifted up towards them. "You're friends are here, is now the right time to talk?"

"Yes." Yoongi stood his ground. "Right now, we need to talk. We can't just... avoid this anymore, until what? I leave and we never talk again?"

Y/N could hear how every movement and sound stopped from downstairs, no doubt listening in on them talk; "Come in, we can talk in here."

Yoongi nodded and followed Y/N into her bedroom, closing the door when he was standing on the other side of the room. Yoongi turned to look at Y/N who avoided eye contact with him, instead they both just stood in the room, quietly waiting for the other to say something. When Yoongi realized that Y/N wasn't going to have anything to say, especially avoiding everything that had to do with the night before, he had to be the one to speak first. 

"I need you to tell me everything." Yoongi finally said, trying to catch Y/N's eye, who was truly avoiding Yoongi's gaze. "I want to stay. I want to stay here with you if you'll let me, just..." Y/N watched his black tail wrap around his own thigh, his ear flicker. "I need to know what it is your hiding from me, Y/N. I can't stay here if you don't trust me."

"What do you want to know?" Y/N asked, figuring it was easier to just, get it out of the way.

"Why did you really adopt me?" 

That question threw Y/N off, she had maybe hoped he'd asked her about her feelings for him or asked her a question about Quantum physics. Those questions, they were something easy for her to answer... but why... Y/N just shook her head, turning away from Yoongi.

"Please, I just want to know that I'm not going crazy because of what I'm feeling." Yoongi couldn't stop anything that wasn't coming out of his mouth, it was like once he opened that lid, it was never going to stop. "I need to know that you... I just need to know."

"You don't want to know that." Y/N looked towards the door, thinking about possibly just leaving.

"Just tell me."

"Yoongi, please-"

"No I need to know, please."

"Yoongi..."

"Please, Y/N, just tell m-"

"I'm sick, Yoongi." Y/N yelled, finally turning to stare at Yoongi who stood in complete shock, not knowing what to do. "I'm sick."

PREV / NEXT

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[spookyspaghettisundae]

What Would Follow the Healing

The warrior's axe trailed behind him in the dirt, dragged by a weary hand too weak to lift it any longer. He lurched and stumbled, weary not from the sun's relentless rays beating down upon his bare bronzed torso, but from the numbness that gripped his body.

A shambling gait to keep moving forward, ever forward, was the most strength he could summon. Gravel crunched underneath his sandals, and he kicked up dust whenever he tripped, oblivious to the pain throbbing from the snakebite in his calf—to the venom that had long spread throughout every limb.

At this crawling, miserable pace, he had wandered the desert for long enough to have lost all sense of time and expected death to greet him any moment now. Yet he wanted to live. To fight another day. To not perish to the bite of some lowly creature after having braved so many battles for his god against able-bodied men.

His pride—his determination—allowed him to hold on. He wiped the sweat from his brow and paused to catch his ragged breath. He coughed through chapped lips, hacking, wheezing, reeling, and almost keeling over.

The world blurred until he squinted hard enough to spot his destination. He blinked and struggled to see past the distortion of unbridled heat rising from the scorched tawny rocks and sands. To see where he had lumbered off towards to seek his only hope at salvation.

Where the grounds sloped down, a beautifully shimmering stream emerged from jagged stone and mounted into a rippling pond, around which a small oasis of palm trees had arisen. A thin plume of smoke trailed into the skies from the chimney of a quaint sandstone hovel, squat on the edge of the oasis.

The Witch Crossing.

He picked up his pace, driven by hope again.

Loose rocks tumbled down and he caught himself upon some dried exposed roots as he descended the final slope to the tiny dwelling. The stones cracked and clattered and rolled down alongside him and one of the rocks bounced off the trunk of a palm tree. His axe lazily clanged against a rock as he marched on, finding new vigor and energy even if he could not shrug off his awful condition, no matter how much he tried to will it away.

Only as he neared the dingy little shelter did his impaired vision afford him glimpses of more unsettling details: stacks of bleached human skulls bunched together upon piles of stones, animal skeletons crudely roped together with coarse twine to form strange magick fetishes, and eerie arcane symbols etched into boulders with the sharp edges of simple stone tools.

Halfway across the oasis, she suddenly appeared.

The witch.

He had blinked, certainly; fighting with all his might to stay awake and alert, no doubt; but in one moment, the cloth curtain covering the entrance to the witch's hovel had stood closed, and in the next, she stood in front of it, staring at him through wide eyes.

Amber, piercing, unblinking, more unsettling than the strange decor that surrounded her eerie abode. Her olive skin was covered in dirt and black hand-painting that matched the glyphs upon the stones, contrasting those bright and cruel eyes.

Her attire took him aback, for she wore nothing but a skirt of hide and vulture bones, breasts bare for him to lose focus on.

"What is it you seek here, pilgrim?" she asked. Raspy was her voice, authoritative her speech, hungry in a way—reminiscent of smoke and the crackle of embers exploding from a fire. "Are you so daft to not heed any warnings?"

He coughed and his knees wobbled, and he did his best to remain standing.

He knew that she knew. Her piercing gaze said it all, wandering up and down his figure and studying him.

She knew what condition he was in.

He looked like death.

"A snake bit me," he said.

She scoffed. "Yes. I see that."

Between more ragged breathing and the ensuing silence growing longer and longer, a twinge of anger welled up in his gut, making his heart beat even faster yet, and leaving his vision clearer than from before the venom starting to dull his senses.

"Then help me, witch! I have treasure! I have gold. You can have anything you want from me," he said, wheezing in between the last words.

"Anything?" she said with a smug smirk.

"Anything!"

He pawed at the tiny pouch hanging from his belt. Fingers fumbled with the knotted cord that kept it by his side, then gave up. He furiously ripped at it and the string snapped. He tore the little leather satchel open and emptied its clinking contents onto the ground. Coins of different color and bearing many different crests, and a small emerald and a beautiful ruby, they all glittered and sparkled in the sun as they plummeted down, landing softly in the sand.

The smug smirk vanished from her visage.

"Fool. Am I to scoop that up from the dirt like a dog?" she said, glaring at him.

Her face never flinched. The dried black paint upon her face lent her statuesque features a fierce and fearsome air.

With a groan, he dropped to his knees and hastily started gathering the coins and gems again.

"I don't want your riches," said the witch. "What would I spend them on, fool? Those who share your creed are the ones that drove me out here. I do not trade with the people you call 'civilized'. Your coin is worthless to me."

He groaned again. Slammed a fistful of coins into the dirt. Then he met her cruel stare with an angry glare of his own.

"Then name your damned price. Is this not Witch Crossing?"

She arched a brow and asked, "Which crossing?"

"Witch Crossing. Witch doctor, are you not?"

"Which doctor?"

Though her play on words was lost on him, he knew she was mocking him.

Though the jumble of emotions and the torrent of pain afforded him no space to let go and relax, lest he lose his consciousness and die miserably without her aid, he knew better than to offend her. Likely, she reveled in the power she currently held over his life, like a sword hanging from a thread that dangled above his head.

Right now, she was the only thing standing between him and the jaws of death. The hollow eye sockets of skulls piled up nearby stared back at him, empty and uncaring and foreboding of the grim fate that awaited him.

He shouted at her, "Enough, woman! Do not mock me! I have slain capable warriors!"

"And you threaten to kill me before I can heal you? You are truly a foolish fool, pilgrim."

"I am no pilgrim," he said, sighing with resignation. Breaking eye contact, for she truly held all the power. He was at her mercy. "I am of the warriors who hunt down the savage cult of serpent-worshippers out here."

"Yes, I recognize the bronze symbol you wear around your neck, you fool. Martyr. Martyr and fool. You martyrs are all fools."

"Watch your tongue," he hissed at her.

His vision immediately blurred. Did she grin again in response to his threats? Or did his words simply not reach her, unable to penetrate a black heart devoid of all mercy?

"A cult hunting a cult, nothing of which I should concern myself with. Do you reckon I should draw their ire by aiding you?"

"Please," he begged.

He clasped his hands together, almost as whenever he did in prayer before the imposing statues of his god. Just as empty then, his gesture was empty now—all self-serving. Only a hoarse rasp escaped his throat, and words failed him.

She, however, continued to chide him, "Or must I expect your fellow faithful to march upon my home to harass me if I leave you out here to waste away from your own stupidity?"

"Please. Heal me," he croaked.

She suddenly stood closer. Had he even blinked? Having disappeared from her doorstep to standing suddenly in front of him, ten paces closer, eliciting a surprised gasp from him. He fell back, too much weight coming to rest upon his swollen leg—it had doubled in size since suffering the bite—and he emitted a piercing shout of pain before crumpling onto his side in response.

She crouched down beside him and grabbed him by his cheeks, squeezing and scrunching his face uncomfortably in between the fingers of one hand and her thumb as she wrenched his face around to stare into his eyes, up close.

He dared not resist. The sharp reminder, the throbbing agony flaring up from his snake-bitten calf, it pressed him to be wiser about crossing the savage witch of Witch Crossing.

In this unforgiving desert, where the snake worshippers reigned supreme and he had lost all his companions in battle against the heathens, this lonesome witch now posed his only hope.

After piercing his soul with her baleful gaze, she sneered at him and released him from her grip.

"Savage is what you call me."

"I have never," he protested. But not too loudly.

It was true that he had never named her thus—out loud. In his thoughts, however, that was exactly what she was to him.

Hex-bearer. Poison-maker. Child-slayer. Beast-lover. Man-eater.

"But your kin have, and you would ape their words in a heartbeat, just like you all ape your prayers to a god that never answers."

He bit his tongue.

She said, "Answer me honestly, for your life depends on it. Were the tables turned, would you aid me if I beseeched you?"

He swallowed, and it felt like swallowing a handful of gravel and grit. Her stare drilled deeper into his soul, and he knew better than to lie.

"No," he finally breathed.

Said the witch, "Truth. You would laugh in my face and leave me to rot among the sands and the beasts."

"And you would have me die like this? To right a wrong before it is even committed?"

He pleaded with her. With every fiber of his pain-wracked being, he pleaded. Not even by words, but by appealing to whatever shred of goodness might be left over in the darkest reaches of her being. He pleaded with his eyes, with his continued kneeling before this unbeliever.

"You are useless to me. I cannot even eat you, as envenomed as you are," she said.

She grinned at him. Toothy, bright white teeth, flawless. Too perfect for one who was said to taste human flesh. A grin that did not reach her eyes, all wicked and marveling at the pain that had brought him this low before her.

These were no idle words, he sensed. She truly ate people.

This was why they called her savage. Witch.

Monster.

The grin faded from her lips, hiding her teeth again. Could she read his thoughts?

"Perhaps you can be useful after all," she said. "If you do one thing for me, I shall do one thing for you. Your coin is of no use to me, but the arm that wields your axe may serve another purpose. It still holds strength and can carry your sorry hide on one more quest."

He gasped. Neither in confusion nor in pain, but in surprise.

"Name it," he breathed. Swallowing another lump in his throat.

The chance of living dangled in front of him while he spotted a mirage on the horizon. A gleaming light, a vision of his god, beckoning him to march on as bravely as he ever had. All in his mind, he understood, but it was his hope manifesting.

"Please, tell me what to do," he begged, focusing on meeting her unsettling gaze once more.

She pointed down the stream that crossed her oasis.

"There is a cave downstream. Follow the flow of water and you cannot miss it. In that cave dwells a beast, as strong as three men and all tooth and fang. Bring me its head. And I will heal you."

The shining light of his god on the horizon faded, making way to the shadow of death, creeping closer towards him once more.

"Y-you—you are out of your mind. As strong as three men? I am but one, and not even at full strength with this snakebite," he said, shaking his head. Breaking eye contact.

So close to salvation, yet so far. The silence she left to drape over them was deafening.

Motes of sand carried by the breeze lazily swept over them. Wind howled through the hollow of the skulls and the witch's hovel.

The skulls smiled at him. Mocked him just like she did.

Meeting her gaze again, he nodded in resignation. Unlike the skulls, she did not grin any longer, but the derision in her very existence got to him. It fed the anger in his belly. The futility of releasing it upon her was abundantly clear to him, only shoveling more coal into the flames of his impotent rage.

Yet—he now reckoned he could always kill her after she healed him.

He nodded again and groaned as he gripped one of the glyph-covered boulders and heaved himself back up onto his feet, swaying and wobbling where one of his legs failed to support him and his body threatened to stop obeying him altogether.

She helped him stand. Calloused fingers grazed his shoulder with surprising softness, sending tingles down his spine. To his surprise, she folded his fingers around the grip of his axe, ensuring that he held it firmly.

No more of her awful grins saw him off.

Instead, she pointed down the stream, prompting another nod from the warrior, for it took him more than a second to regain his sense of vision and discern which way the water flowed. The world spun around him in his dizziness, and every finer detail blurred into the bright sun's blinding light.

Though his hand gripped the axe more fiercely now, the weapon's blade soon trailed behind him in the dirt again, dragged in a weary hand too weak to lift it any longer, the head of the axe now scraping against rock and sand until he reached the edge of the water.

He lurched and stumbled downstream. By the time he was out of earshot from the witch, he recoiled and then bent forward, emptying his stomach of its contents, splattering the naked rock before him with his vomit.

The wind howled again, carrying dust across the rocky desert.

Once his shambling gait had carried him over the bend of several boulders, out of sight from the witch, she smiled to herself.

She smiled because she harbored no hopes of him ever slaying the beast. The saber-toothed cat that lived in that cave was her beloved pet. She had reared it from the day it had been a whelp.

She had lied as much as she could to the warrior-zealot, reckoning that he would have killed her once she healed him. The witch could have ended his life once he laid down to rest and eaten the warrior with ease; the venom in his flesh would not have harmed her. Nor would it harm her beloved cat.

However, she relished the thought of providing her pet with an easy snack.

She disappeared back into her hovel to continue working on her stew.

The warrior would never be seen again.

—Submitted by Wratts

[writing-the-end]

Chapter 1- The Letter

Master Post

A Wizard Hermit tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

The Order of Hermits is an illegal guild, hiding out on the fringe islands of Lairyon. But when they get a mysterious letter from the capitol city Milliara, their curiosity gets the better of them- and who wouldn’t take up an opportunity for good money, good adventure, and good opportunity to get their license? 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Mail’s here!” Grian cheers, seeing their carrier bird appear over the horizon. He pulls his arcanum spell from Mumbo’s throat, and hops off the newest member of the guild to greet their phoenix friend. He pulls out a few pieces of charcoal, the favorite treat of their carrier phoenix. “Over here Phoebe!” 

“I feel like she needs a better name than that.” Doc mentions, tightening the straps of his robes and helping Iskall bring Mumbo to his feet. Dazed, and thoroughly thrashed by Grian. “Look, she didn’t even answer you. Phoenixes need a cool name- like Ember, or Blaze.” 

The bird swoops low, completely ignoring Grian and his tasty morsels of charred wood. A single feather falls free, caught by Cleo from midair. She holds the luminous material, glinting in sunlight like silver and blinding the whole group. “That’s...that’s not Phoebe. That’s an Alicanto.” 

Everyone’s head snaps, following the bird’s path as it comes to rest on TFC’s arm. Searching for the guildmaster of the Order of Hermits. Scar slips closer, awed by the opalescent white wings of such a noble bird. “I thought alicantos were only found in central Lairyon.” 

“It’s from the capitol.” TFC states, pulling the parchment from the parcel on the bird’s back. The scroll is stamped with a symbol everyone knows, whether the hermit is from the distant poor swamps of east Lairyon or the rich crystal mountains of the southern Fartop Peaks in the Lionheart Mountains. 

The scrawling laurels and crystals of the magistrate’s office. The alicanto pecks at TFC’s metal gloves, searching for food in the form of silver or gold. But every member of the guild has completely forgotten their divine visitor. They’re terrified of the contents within the parchment carried upon it’s back. 

“Oh my word, this is it! We’ve been found!” Mumbo shrieks, feeling his head get dizzy and light. He’s hardly been here for more than a year, and he’s about to get arrested. Years of following the rules, and the one time he goes rogue he’s been caught. 

“The arcane guard must be on their way. This is their letter telling us to surrender.” Cub shakes his head, watching as TFC opens the wax seal. 

“If we surrender, will they be light on us?” Ren questions, biting his lip and adjusting his sunglasses as Xisuma brushes past. He can smell the ozone scent of void on the previous guildmaster, pacing back and forth across the grass of the training field. Muttering something about his brother. 

“I’m not surrendering. I’m not going back to jail!” Doc crosses his arms and turns his nose up and away from the letter in defiance.

The entire guild, twenty something strong, creeps closer to TFC as his eyes scan across the parchment. The entire island is holding their breath, waiting for their guildmaster to tell the guild what’s waiting for them. Etho turns, falling into the shadow of the group and reappearing from TFC’s. “What does it say?” 

“We...it’s a contract.” TFC rereads the words again, and again. Trying to make sure he has everything right. That he read everything correctly. “The magistrate wants us, all of us, to go to a town called…” TFC squints his eyes and tries to read the name, before giving up. “Whatever, somewhere in east Lairyon. There’s been a disturbance that requires our help.” 

“All of us?” Xisuma stops dead, pulling off his mask so he can be sure he’s hearing everything right. “What needs an entire guild to take care of a ‘disturbance’?” 

“Forget that, why would the magistrate request the help of an illegal guild?” Doc waves his metal arm out, catching the attention of the alicanto. It hops free of TFC’s shoulder and swoops onto the puppeteer mage’s arm. Immediately, it begins pecking and pulling on the delicate materials and magic that makes his prosthesis. “Isn’t his entire job to arrest groups like us?” 

“That is kind of suspicious.” Iskall pipes up, tapping a gloved finger on the brown beard of his chin. 

TFC clears his throat, taking a deep breath. He brushes the white braid along his face, collecting himself. He needs to be the man in charge, cool and calm. “The letter isn’t officially from the magistrate’s office. It’s stamped like one, but it’s on personal parchment paper. The magistrate needs us because he can’t send official guilds without raising alarm. He wants this done discreetly, and none of the other council members agree with his actions.” 

“But us?” Cleo can’t help but agree with Doc. They aren’t exactly law-abiding citizens. They’re a mercenary group, flying under the radar of the Council of Lairyon. Doing the work they refuse to do, helping towns too poor to pay the hefty fees legal guilds require. “What do we get out of this? How do we know this isn’t some trap to lure us out of the Ashioll sea?” 

“And how does he know about us?” Mumbo adds, wringing his hands. 

“I...I don’t know, but I guess our reputation precedes us.” TFC nods to the guild hall, rising above the training grounds of the island on a soft hill. Where they can all talk. No one wastes time filing in, hungry for answers and completely ignoring the leftover breakfast still set out on the tables. The alicanto notices the metal cups, and sticks it’s head in search of a treat. And getting it’s golden crested head stuck in the pewter mug. 

“Well? Tell us what it says!” Stress bounces in her seat, short brown hair bouncing along with her.

“This town, Gildara, has been having what the contract only calls a ‘disturbance’ for the past few weeks. The council refuses to send a scout group, but the magistrate here says he can’t sit idly by and let people continue to get hurt. If we take care of the problem plaguing Gildara, we can…” TFC takes a deep breath, the excitement starting to fill his own voice. Calm, he needs to be calm. He’s the guildmaster. “We’ll be given the title of official guild, as well as a hefty sum of gold. We’ll get our magic license.” 

The reaction of the guild is mostly positive. They had given up applying for their license ages ago- before Xisuma gave up his role as guildmaster. They were always rejected, and warned to disband every time. But the Order of Hermits only have each other. Leaving their island, leaving each other, was never an option. They’re a menagerie of people, of criminals and runaways, S-Class mages and academy flunkies. Some people are skeptical of such a proposal, others are ecstatic. All are curious.

“What an opportunity of the lifetime!” Grian whoops, his wings appearing with hardly even a thought. Magic overflowing through the sky angel wizard, held down by his robes by Iskall and Mumbo. “Did it really say for all of us?” 

TFC looks back down at the paper, before letting it fall so everyone else can see. The hermits butt heads trying to peak at the contract before them. Jevin shakes his head, slimy hair squishing and getting stuck against Ren’s wagging tail. “It’s really for us all. The whole damn guild.” 

“I never saw that many zeroes in my life.” Grian whispers, his voice quiet for once. “That could fix all the damage from our battle with those creepy creatures.” 

Mumbo looks back, seeing white bandages peeking out from the sleeveless red hem and blue cloak around his shoulders. They almost didn’t survive that- if it weren’t for Grian and his archangel aura they wouldn’t have made it. His train of thought is disturbed when False pushes herself in, hands planting with challenging eyes towards Tango and Impulse. “Maybe you two can finally fix that hole you blew into my forge.” 

“I quite like the cross breeze our...modification gave.” Tango rests a hand on his chest, a snickering smile appearing across his face. Mirroring emotions fall across Impulse and Zedaph at his side, peeking around his arms. 

“Then move out and make your own modifications!” False shouts, but a coy grin and sharp eyes appear across her features. This won’t be the first time False and team ZIT have gotten into a duel over their accidental explosion, and it likely won’t be the last. “Zedaph already has his own place.” 

“He lives in a barn!” Impulse moans. “I hate how pokey hay is.” 

“You say barn like it’s a bad thing. The sheep are great roommates, they don’t light their pillows on fire.” Zed stares up at Tango. Quips trade across everyone, ideas brought up and shot down as quickly as Scar’s terraforming magic, all what to do with the money offered before them. 

TFC snaps his fingers, the ruby in his other hand glimmering with the magic circle. Lighting up lanterns that hang from the copse of trees and nestle in rock outcroppings of the outdoor guild hall. The fire burns bright, blinding the order even in the midmorning sun. “We should decide whether or not we all want to do this. We’re a guild, we should vote.” TFC raises his right hand. “Anyone oppose this contract? Please answer honestly..” 

The hermits look at each other, but no one’s arm even twitches to put their hand up. The contract is too curious to deny. So much to offer, including an adventure. TFC nods, and lifts his left hand. “All in favor?” 

Robes and sleeves snap up, twenty something hands raised into the air. It’s unanimous. TFC signs the contract, pulling over the alicanto and pulling it’s head free of the empty cup. He opens a hand to offer the divine bird a nugget of gold, which it greedily snaps up while he snaps on the response. “So it is. Alright, hermits. Let’s get packing. We depart for Gildara tomorrow at dawn.”

[ask-crimson-weaver]

Dangerous Waters

Melly still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened. Well, perhaps some part of her did, but with the scattered state of her thoughts, it was nigh impossible for her to think back over and string things together in any meaningful order.

She remembered showing up to Fort Tilden with the Cobwebs, and she had sensed Oliver as they approached, along with four other sources of danger. They had moved in, and a fight had started, with her facing off against Oliver. But at some point… her memory lost focus. That crawling, writhing sensation had wormed its way back into her mind-- hadn’t they undone that spell?-- and her coordination had slipped. At the time, she had had enough sense to try and retreat, but with her steps unbalanced, he had caught up quickly, catching her and dragging her down into the dark of… wherever they were.

She could tell that she was in a small room now, dank and cold air filling the underground space. At this point, the name wasn’t important anymore, seeing as her mind’s focus was drawn to other things. Every dark corner had the potential to hide danger, and every crack and chip in the concrete walls was just another space for some twisted, unfathomable thing to stretch outwards from. The paranoia from before had been straining, though manageable, but this time she felt like it was completely overwhelming her. On top of that, her spider-sense kept going off at unknown things as she had been dragged past them, and now its scream of warning was focused on the figure of green energy and metal that had a clawed arm clamped around her.

“You still think you can get out of this?” Oliver said, a smirk on his face as he watched Melly kick at the air with her still-free legs. “It’s admirable, if not pointless. I mean… all that work, all that searching and fighting… and look where you are now. At my complete mercy. And my associate’s, I suppose. I’m looking forward to watching you as she… feeds you to her Patron or whatever. In any case, it will be one less little Spider that I have to deal with.”

Melly only really took in about half of what he had said, the induced fear and confusion driving most of her thoughts. She could feel it drawing out her spider instincts, which urged her to escape and hide, and for once, she was inclined to do just that exact thing, though the former would have to be done before the latter of the two. She stared back at Oliver with glowing red eyes-- her mask had come off early on, back when she had still been near the others-- and she began to grunt and hiss in her frantic, paranoia-fueled attempt to break free. Where she felt her own strength make headway against Oliver’s arms, more green-tinted metal crept up to mend and reinforce it.

“I suppose it’s sad, in a way,” Oliver continued. “You and your ‘friends’ always talked about all of the great things you had done with your Shard… and even with that, here you are, writhing like a child with a tantrum. Honestly, I could just-- oops!”

The claw of Oliver’s arm suddenly opened, and gravity jerked Melly downwards, causing her to smack into the floor. Not a moment later, though, she had scrambled up onto her hands and knees, making a break for the nearest wall in an attempt to scale it. She’d only made it a handhold or two upwards when Oliver’s tentacle darted out again, clamping down on her leg and pulling her back over. There was a loud crack as two fist-sized chunks of the wall were pulled along after her, dropping off of where they had stuck to her hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Oliver said, sarcastic and unapologetic. “I just get butterfingers sometimes, that’s all.”

He’d pulled Melly off the ground again at this point, though this time she hung upside-down by the leg Oliver had grabbed. He lifted her higher, so that her face was just about level with his.

“Now, where were we?” Oliver said. “Ah! I was just about to further emphasize the true depths of your--”

He found himself cut off as Melly’s hand swung up, launching a spray of webbing directly at Oliver’s face that soon solidified from its glowing state into an angry red color. Oliver stumbled back, growling as his eyes flashed green with a surge of rage. The arm holding Melly snapped to one side, releasing her and sending her flying through the air. The far wall cracked as she collided with it, knocking her breath out of her as she dropped to the ground-- it hadn’t been enough to hurt her significantly, with her energy welling up to help her take the blow, but it still hurt.

“You think that was funny, Spider?” Oliver hissed at her, bolts of metal from his assimilated mass curving up to cut the webbing away. “You think that you’re still able to--”

At that moment, Melly could feel a different arm wrap around her and yank her away off the ground. Even in her state of mind, this tendril that held her in the air was definitely not one that belonged to Oliver. It was far more slimy… with that distinctive energy of the Writhing One spiking all around her. She managed to catch a glimpse of Oliver’s associate: it was the exact same woman she saw in her mind. 

 “Juice Man, remember what we agreed on? I’d like our dear Weaver here to stay alive for the time being,” Odyssia sighed as her other tentacles undulated in the air, “I know she’s a Spider and all and she could probably take a lot more punishment than your average Joe, but I’d like to keep her just functional enough so I can properly study her.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t intending to kill her before you had your chance to do your research, if that was your concern.” 

He re-oriented himself, lifting himself off the ground with his tentacles. 

“I suppose there will be more time to gloat later-- do what you want,” he added, waving one of his upper arms dismissively. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting another Octavius’ studies without good reason.”

“Right,” she replied, before turning to face Melly with a fascinated smile, “While I may have learned a lot from information that I’ve kindly been given access to… there is nothing like being there to study something up close and personal.”

With that, she swiftly took Melly away with her into a new room somewhere deep in the bunker. From what Melly could barely make out, this room looked like a makeshift laboratory that didn’t look out of place in a horror movie. Strange organs and other loose body parts were compartmentalized in various containers. Tables covered in glassware and arcane books, drawers filled with various equipment, several aquarium tanks filled with unfamiliar sea life… coupled with the darkness, the debris that speckled the floor, and the cold, musty air, this place hardly looked sterile in any way. 

Odyssia brought her over to a stolen hospital gurney and laid her down onto it, using her tendrils to hold her down as her human hands began to strap her down with the restraints. 

“You know, you’re pretty lucky as far as my test subjects go,” Odyssia rattled off to her. “Between you and me, most people who get this treatment from me personally are looking at a new, monstrous form in their future. But, you… I’m having a feeling that you’re definitely not a lobbyist who tries to shut down environmental protections for their down lines… or some fuckwit politician who spews misinformation to spark irrational fear or hatred in people… or some idiot who doesn’t ‘believe’ in science and would much rather trust in some pseudoscientific homemade ‘remedies’.”

Odyssia snorted at the thought. 

“You know, Weaver, we never really spoke to each other in person, but I know you are brilliant in your own right,” she continued as she tightened the restraints, “It’s a real shame, though. Your Shard is an incredible source of power. And such power rightfully belongs in the hands of the Writhing One. Unlike Juice Man, this isn’t personal for me.”

Melly had kept up her kicking and fighting all down the hallway, and as Odyssia tightened the restraints of the gurney, she kept straining against them with as much force as she could muster. This room was full of danger-- spider-sense easily told her that-- but as the hallucinations made the dark corners deeper and the creatures and scattered parts more monstrous, a swarm of paranoid thoughts started to close in on her.

She’s going to hurt you. She’s going to make you writhe and bleed like all the others. She wants to take what is yours, and what is you.

Somewhere, deep in Melly’s mind, her coherent self managed to reach through, and she renewed her effort to fight the spell’s effects and push back against the mental flood of the Writhing One’s influence. Her brow furrowed, and her glowing eyes started to flicker to and from an even stronger crimson hue as she made her effort.

“Get… it… out…” she managed to mutter, voice strained through both panic and effort.

Odyssia adjusted her glasses, examining the glow of her eyes with increased interest. 

“Well, if I did that you’d fight back. Besides, seeing you manage to power through this from sheer force of willpower is something I’m far more invested in. If this is what one Shard is capable of… I wonder what an entire Prism could accomplish,” Odyssia mused, her demeanor going still to aid in her observations. “Not many people can just power through my spells like you’re doing right now. Not only does that require an insane amount of mental resilience but the magical prowess to accomplish this is just as an extraordinary feat.”

Odyssia, of course, already knew where such mental prowess and willpower had come from-- at least, it was easy to assume from the memories she had gleaned from Melly. Her soul torn out, fighting for control of a body that wasn’t hers. Both mind and soul shattered by a creature of dreams, pulled back together by both Shard and friends. Her fights against Brevi’s control, her mother’s attempt to change her memories again, even against the toxic shards that had leaked from Itzi’s blade, poisoning her all those months ago. She had fought hard to keep herself her, and she would certainly defend it with all of her strength.

Melly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the twisting room around her as she pushed harder and harder to bring herself back, each push feeling like she was dragging her mind through thick ink. A few flickers of red light raced upwards along her neck, fading just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Get… out,” she repeated, voice a bit stronger. “Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”

Once again, as Odyssia allowed herself to dive deeper into her pursuit of knowledge, that one memory of Melly’s mother kept nagging at her. She furrowed her brow in frustration, this time having her tentacles come in to hold Melly down further. 

“I can’t! I-I won’t! This is my breakthrough! This is for the Writhing One,” Odyssia hissed at her. “Don’t make me make this have to hurt.”

“You’ll... hurt me. Either way,” Melly mumbled out. “Change my head. I can’t… I won’t… let her. You. Anyone. Break me again.”

Odyssia grimaced slightly as she stared down at her. 

Go on. Why aren’t you choking her or something? She’s not going down without a fight, Odyssia was starting to wrestle with herself. Prove her wrong. You’re smarter than her. Don’t let her win. 

Unconsciously, a tentacle began to entertain the idea of wrapping around Melly’s neck. Just as it was about to constrict her, Odyssia realized what was happening and quickly pulled it back from her neck. A sinking feeling in her stomach began to take hold as the internal debate within her mind set in. 

Why did I do that? I’m not supposed to kill her! 

“... T-This is my last warning, Weaver. You need to understand that I’m being far nicer than I could be. I could be breaking you right fucking now but guess what? I’m holding back on you! Want to know what breaking you could look like? I could’ve turned you a monster, make you feel what it’s like to be at the bottom of the Mariana Trench, or take you apart and dissect you but no, I’m giving you the chance to make this easy. Don’t throw it away,” 

Melly was quiet for a moment. Realistically, there wasn’t much she could do in her current condition to fight back against anything worse than what she was dealing with now… but to stop fighting would be to spit in the face of all her prior triumphs of self. Her thoughts were still jumbled, but if there was a way to get things to where they could talk.

Melly’s head turned towards Odyssia slightly, eyes opening to look directly at her.

“...all of that… is that really what you want to do?”

Odyssia froze, for the briefest of moments. She turned away from Melly, running her hand over her face. 

This is what you want to do. 

But why was she still fighting herself on this? She forcefully pounded her fist onto the gurney, cursing underneath her breath. 

“Of course it’s what I want to fucking do… Why would I continue to do this if I didn’t?” Odyssia mutters although her tone suggested that she was beginning to struggle. 

“Want...” Melly said, pausing for a moment as she tried to put a solid thought together. “We want… things. You want things from me. I want to stay me. There’s want… but there’s need too. All of the hurting… is that what you need to do?”

“You… Y-you’re just saying that to get out of this,” Odyssia replies as she shuts her eyes, still refusing to look at her, “Why would my needs matter to you?”

“Because if you need it… and you can choose it… you will. Would’ve.” Melly said. “I can’t make you do anything. Can’t make you…” Melly trailed off for a moment, shutting her eyes for a moment as she had to pull her focus back in. “But… I can fight. Or I can talk. And you… do you need… want to fight? Or do you want to talk? Which will get… what you need?”

“Alright, alright, stop right there. I… I cannot continue this if you're going to talk to me like that. I am barely getting by with following this conversation,” Odyssia groaned as she runs her hands in her messy hair. She turned to face Melly, making direct eye contact with her before continuing, much more quietly, “Tell you what: if I… lessen… the spell’s effects to at least let you speak coherently, you’re going to stay right there and not move. Then I’ll let you talk. If you try to pull the wool over my eyes, I will get mean. Got it?”

Well, though Melly certainly couldn’t make any guarantees that she wouldn’t eventually try to escape… for now, it was the only break she was probably gonna get, and her own mental resistance would only get her so far before exhaustion won out.

“...I understand.” she said.

Odyssia rubbed her forehead, already feeling a headache coming on from the tension in her body. Slowly releasing a deep breath, she closed her eyes to focus on something. 

As she did so, Melly began to feel that Eldritch presence dwindled… not enough to release her from paranoia or the sickness she had felt, it was just enough for her to at least think a bit more clearly. Melly let out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding as the strain on her mind lessened, and took a moment to recollect herself-- man, it was good to be able to think mostly clearly again. The observing Odyssia would be able to see the red glow in her eyes recede, and though it was still present it no longer burned with as much intensity as it had been.

“You wanted to talk? Then talk,” Odyssia said coldly, although there was a slight hint of wanting to know what Melly was going to tell her. 

“Look…” Melly began, “this whole thing with the Shards… What exactly is your end goal for all this? And you mentioned the Prism too… if you’ve been in my mind, you know that I’ve already done the rounds with someone who wanted to do the exact same thing you mentioned. And you know what happened to him when he tried it.”

Odyssia would indeed know who Melly was talking about-- Alexander Hobbs, aka the Beholder. She knew he had tried to control the Shards in a bid to access their combined energy… and she knew that it was what had ultimately killed him, the energy he sought burning him away to nothing.

“The Shards aren’t for me to use. I told you, this is for the Writhing One. I know those Shards are clearly not meant for a mere mortal to use. That’s why I’m giving it to my Patron. They don’t abide to human limitations,” Odyssia said, “I devote myself to the glorious Writhing One. Without it, I’d go back to being some repressed, pathetic shrinking violet who can’t fucking stand up for herself or the causes she cares about. So to show my gratitude, I must give back.”

Melly was taken a bit aback by some of what Odyssia had said-- it seemed that there was some baggage behind what course she had chosen to take. Even with it catching her notice, though, she wasn’t sure how Odyssia would react to having it be brought up here and now.

“How do you know if it can use them?” Melly asked. “With all due respect to the power and influence they do have in this world-- which, as you’re aware, I’m currently the subject of-- how do you know that they’ll be able to harness the energy of the Shards. Energy Weaver said they couldn’t alter or control it. The Being said it was out of their jurisdiction. The Palpitors-- they were willing to kill us when we encountered them. Wouldn’t it have been easier for them to just kill a wielder, take their Shard so that one of their Nobles would have access to an unlimited amount of energy? Why else would they have not done that, if not because they couldn’t claim it? Look, what I’m saying is that there’s things about the Shards and how they work that neither of us know. Would you take the risk of sending a Shard to your Patron without knowing what effect it might have? How would they react if what you gave it harmed them?”

“...To act like I know everything regarding my Patron’s full capabilities is to indulge in pointless hubris,” she scoffed, “And either way, you grossly misunderstand how Patrons operate. Patrons—unless some astronomically universal level apocalyptic circumstances occur—never leave their realm of magic. If they did, there wouldn’t be a need for them to bestow an incredibly tiny fraction of their power to mortals like me to do their bidding, right? If they want something, they’ll have people like me to accomplish what they need us to do. This is something they’ve been interested in for a while now. And who am I to object to the Writhing One’s wishes? While I can’t pretend to know how exactly they will deal with whatever a Shard brings… what I can tell you is that they’re approaching this with curiosity and they know the risk; after all, they know what I know.”

“And what you know is what I know-- I’m presuming that’s why you went rooting around in my mind in the first place,” Melly countered. She thought for a moment, deciding that pushing that point further wouldn’t do any good. “Okay… new question. If they never leave their realm of magic, how exactly are they planning on using my Shard? Are you intending to magically mail me to where they are so they can get at it or something?”

Odyssia chuckled at that, “That’s a very crass way of putting it but, essentially, you’re right. I am going to send the Shard directly to them.”

“‘The Shard’,” Melly repeated. “The way you say that has a very conspicuous lack of me included in it.”

“What? You want me to send you in there as well? I highly doubt that you’d be interested in being in the grand presence of the Writhing One. Honestly, I thought the way I planned was more humane, not subjecting you to such unspeakable terrors,” Odyssia laughed. 

“And your plan is… to kill me?” Melly asked. “Or try and remove it yourself? Because I have experience with that second option, and I’ve gotta say… hard pass.”

“It’s worth a try,” Odyssia sighed, coming down from her brief amusement, “And if I can’t remove it without killing you, well… I suppose that doesn’t leave many options for me, unfortunately..”

“Well, even if you do get it out without killing me... I’m still gonna get a one-on-one with the Writhing One,” Melly said. “The whole soul thing, remember? You pull out the Shard, and my soul comes with it. The whole point of sparing me is kind of moot there-- doubly so, considering that Ollie would have no problem killing me without the Shard there to do its thing. And obviously, you don’t seem inclined to kill me if you can help it… which I appreciate, even given my currently unfavorable circumstances. Other than that…”

Melly did think of a third option, but even thinking about it made her blood run cold. One of the Writhing One’s things was manipulating minds, right? If so… what was stopping them from just brainwashing her, or something similar, to try and control the Shard through her?

In a nervous gulp, she swallowed her words, glancing away from Odyssia as she hastily tried to think of any alternative thing to propose-- the more time an option gave her, the better.

“... Were you going to say something there?” Odyssia asked, “And before you do, I’d like to at least thank you for being appreciative. At least you’re more engaging to speak to than any of the previous people who once were strapped in here just like you. I generally hear the same boring, mundane things from people who end up here… In a strange way, I’m almost glad that I gave you the chance to talk,” 

Gee, I wonder why everyone else was less engaging, Melly thought to herself, not thinking further on that. Better to keep those mental images at bay.

“Have to appreciate the little victories, I suppose,” she said, words both sarcastic and sincere. “Punching and the like isn’t always the best way to solve things in the hero biz-- sometimes trying to talk through things first can go a long way. Never hurts to try, I suppose.”

Melly went quiet, debating whether to bring up what she had meant to say. Odyssia had clearly heard her odd pause, and she wasn’t fully sure whether or not she would be able to tell if she was lying or not.

“And… yeah, guess I thought I had something to say,” she said. “Wasn’t anything good, though.”

“... Yes,” Odyssia muttered. 

… Why did she sound so much like Amari just now? Nononono, I can’t let myself think like that. I can’t let myself see her in the Weaver or I’ll really be in shit, Odyssia thought to herself, now actually beginning to feel worried, Goddamnit, Odyssia, stop this right now. You can’t afford to do this. 

“... And what makes you think that?’ Odyssia said, trying to avoid thinking further on her realization. 

“Because it’s something I’ve had people try to do to me before, in one way or another,” Melly said. “And I doubt I’d be able to do much about it if it’s what you or your Patron decide to do to me, hence my aversion to bring it up.”

“...Let me take a wild guess,” Odyssia began, if a bit hesitant herself, “Are you trying to appeal to my humanity in some way? As if you knew anything about me? I mean, you’re welcome to try it. I will at least humor you.”

“Wasn’t really expecting it to be an appeal-- in the regard of me getting out of this, at least,” Melly said. “You don’t seem like the type to be easily convinced to change your mind when you commit to something-- Ollie was the same way. The point being-- seeing as I’d rather not go through something involving that again, I’m refraining from bringing it up as an option at all.”

Melly wasn’t sure how many of her non-Shard memories Odyssia had gleaned, or if she had come to the conclusion of what she was meaning by her words-- it was entirely possible that she’d be able to put the pieces together if she had all of them. For now, though, she sat tight and hoped that that would satisfy her.

“... Fair enough,” Odyssia replied, although something about the way she said this made her tone waver a bit. “I have been described as ‘ride or die’, I suppose. But make no mistake—and don’t tell Juice about this—I’ve come to understand that aside from tenacious tendencies… we don’t really have much in common. Consider this food for thought.”

“Juice?” Melly said, amused by the apparent nickname. “And… yeah, I think I’ve noticed that— and that’s coming from someone that knew him before all of this Shard business.”

“Long story,” Odyssia replied cheekily, “In the nicest way possible… did he always have a stick up his ass? Was he born with it? Because I’ve worked with many people and I have to be honest, he’s not the most fun person to be around.”

“Well…” Melly said, thinking of where to start. “He was always a bit stuck-up, but he knew his tech stuff— was in classes with someone I know. I think he’d been doing the Ock stuff behind the scenes for a while… not that I ever picked up on it. Kept that hidden up until I had already handed the Green Shard over for him to claim. Was originally hoping that he’d be a part of our team, but, well… you’ve seen where he’s ended up in that regard. In hindsight… it was pretty dumb of me to hand it over to anyone, whether or not I trust them. I was new to the hero stuff, and definitely more naive than I am now with a few more years under my belt. Sure, I may wield a Shard, but after that, I don’t think I’m qualified to be the one that decides who stuff like that gets handed out to.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone I know,” Odyssia commented to herself before replying to Melly. “I suppose I could relate to you hoping someone you care about would join you.. but that’s besides the point. Probably wasn’t anything like what you went through anyhow, considering that the one I’m talking about is… a much different person from him, let’s say.”

“That’s fair,” Melly said. “Even with the similarities… there’s plenty of differences more often than not, especially between dimensions. I guess the whole mess— the Shards getting involved and all— sort of make ours a bit of a unique case, at any rate.”

Melly paused, thinking something over.

“You know… how did you and Oliver end up coming across one another anyway?”

Odyssia chuckled at that. “It is in my best interest not to be a snitch. I might be more amicable towards you than most people that find themselves on this gurney, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll spill everything about myself or my whereabouts. Nice try, though.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot,” Melly said, shrugging. “Guess you’ve got to be an Ock to get in on all the secret Ock meetings… or however else you two ended up meeting.”

“Well, I’m sure you can come up with your own conclusions, considering that you somehow managed to start working with Spider-Glass,” she sighed as a tentacle of her stretches out to reach a clipboard and a pen on her desk. 

“I suppose I can, yes,” Melly replied-- like Odyssia, it was probably in her or the other Spiders’ best interest not to go into detail on how that came about. Her eyes followed Odyssia’s tentacle as it reached over to the desk. Despite all of the pleasant conversation, she had to remind herself that she was on borrowed time. The Spiders would probably come after her eventually, but without a solid sense of how long it had been since was brought down here, she couldn’t be sure how much longer it would be before the others returned. The longer it took, the more time there would be for Odyssia to start trying things.

Odyssia, while not wanting to press further on how the two met, there was something on her mind in regards to her own spider. She took the clipboard and pen and began writing her observations on Melly down as she continues to speak. 

“Speaking of… what are your thoughts on her, exactly?” she sincerely asked with no trace of joking around or cheekiness to her tone. 

“What?” Melly said, admittedly caught a bit off-guard by the question. “She’s, uh… nice? Good teammate, good… all-around person?” She wasn’t exactly sure what Odyssia was trying to get at with that question, but knew it was better not to give specifics away freely.

Odyssia considered what Melly said for a moment. There was a gleam in her eye and a satisfied smile crossed her face as a subtle sense of pride exuded from her. 

“Yes, she always was… I don’t expect anything less from her…” she muttered to herself, “You’re not alone in that assessment, Weaver. Many will agree with you on that front.”

“As I’ve seen-- and met,” Melly said. The way Odyssia had said that… she knew a bit about Amari and Odyssia’s history. Whatever connection they had outside of the hero stuff, in some regard she could still say that it was a good one.

“Yes… I suppose that’s one thing that me and old Juice Man can’t really relate to each other on,” Odyssia sighed. 

Before either of them could say anything else, the tell-tale sound of metal stomping on concrete echoed down the corridor that Odyssia had brought Melly down. Feeling him approaching, Melly went still, keeping her head facing away from the door-- hopefully, she could avoid having Oliver know that she was more coherent than before. A moment later, Oliver entered the room, looking rather annoyed. His eyes scanned the room for a moment before locking on Odyssia.

Speak of the Devil, Odyssia thought to herself as she looked back at him. 

“So… What is it this time, Oliver?” she asked, putting the clipboard and pen down on the gurney’s surface. 

“Your… pet keeps bothering me,” he said with contempt. “I’m trying to review the notes on the Shards that you took from the Weaver, but I can’t focus with that thing constantly trying to pester me!”

Odyssia grimaced a bit, shifting her weight as she stepped closer to him. Upon doing so, she noticed Adorabilis, now clinging onto his leg with her tentacles. 

“I see,” she said, nodding tightly, “Let me get her off you.”

Oliver let out a huff in an expression of ‘finally’, holding out his leg and shaking it impatiently.

“Hold still, Juice Man,” she sighed, “You don’t need to shake her around like that.”

Odyssia gently coaxed Adorabilis with her tentacles, using them to remove her off of Oliver’s leg. Oliver could feel the sensation of suction cups being pulled off of him as she was taken away into Odyssia’s arms. 

“Alright, alright, you’re free now,” Odyssia said to Oliver as she heads over to one of the tanks. She opens it up to gently place the flapjack octopus inside. 

“It’s appreciated,” Oliver said, reaching up to straighten the collar of his shirt with a punchy tug. “While I’m here… I might as well ask. How has your research gone, thus far? Anything… interesting?”

“Sure thing,” she replies casually as she shuts the tank’s lid tight, “I suppose, but this was more me wanting a closer look at her and her Shard’s energy.”

“You ‘suppose’?” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. “And have you been able to glean anything from that as of yet?”

“I will have to make some minor adjustments on my method of offering the Shard to the Writhing One but otherwise, I’m sure you already know enough extensive information from that mind retrieval that I did,” Odyssia replied coolly. 

“Indeed,” Oliver said, sounding mildly disappointed. “Speaking of which-- perhaps I should get back to reviewing that information. Perhaps she knows more about the pesky inhibiting devices that she’s used in our past few encounters. Quite fortunate that she had some spares on her this time around-- they usually burn out and damage themselves before I have the chance to inspect them more closely.”

“Sounds good to me,” Odyssia replied. “I will keep an eye on our guest here and make said adjustments to the plan.”

“And as I said before, I am quite looking forward to seeing the results,” Oliver said. Without another word, he turned, moving quickly out of the room back the way he had come.

As soon as he was gone, Odyssia groaned a little. 

“Man, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve believed he was an energy vampire or something,” she muttered underneath her breath. 

“Of the metaphorical sort, I’m assuming,” Melly said once she was sure Oliver was out of earshot. “I’ve met some actual energy vampires, and they tend to be a bit more direct with their energy-taking intentions.”

“Of course,” Odyssia chuckled, “A strange little man, he is.”

She picked up her clipboard and continues writing things down.

“... Now listen,” she muttered, recalling something, “I hate to admit it but I prefer you like this over when you could barely speak a coherent sentence. I… know that we really couldn’t be all that friendly after what I did to your mind and what I’m planning on doing. But even so, I feel like I should at least let you know this: Spider-Glass is… someone who is this very smart, very capable young lady. I know full well she’s going to show up eventually. Should she inevitably come to set you free just at the nick of time, promise me one thing: keep her safe. Her survival is… important to me.”

Melly stayed silent for a moment, taking in Odyssia’s words. It felt a bit strange, hearing that from someone with the intent to harm her… but she could tell that the Ock’s words were genuine.

“Us Spiders… we protect each other,” Melly said. “If she needs my help, if she ends up in danger… I’ll do what I can to make sure she’s safe at the end of things.”

There was a slight flicker of red in Melly’s eyes as she spoke-- a spark of determination and resolution, one could say. It was only there for a moment, though, before fading back to their usual crimson hue.

Odyssia smiled at that. Whether it was due to Melly’s promise, the brief glimmer of red, or a mixture of both, it was hard to say. 

Both knew it was only a matter of time until Spider-Glass would return. Until then, Odyssia resolved herself to scribbling down what she had learned from her talk from Melly that she had neglected to inform Oliver about. And Melly, biding her time until the others returned, resigned herself to wait.

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 236-238

November 2-4  Well, it's been a hell of a few days but I have to write the journal entry sometime, I suppose. Monday night I went to bed super early and last night I was exhausted and heartsore, and today I've got a nervous stomachache that just won't quit, but if I'm journaling this year, this is going to be a pretty important inflection point.  Monday was a day where not a lot happened, or not a lot I can remember at this point anyway. I made my butternut squash soup in the evening so I could take it to the precinct in the morning and put myself to bed at 10pm, several hours earlier than normal because I had to wake up at four. I didn't sleep great, but I used the Boring Books for Bedtime podcast to get me to sleep and I was able to get some rest. I also laid out my clothes ahead of time so I wouldn't have to wake my husband up at that hour just so I could get dressed.  Tuesday morning I woke up, showered, dressed and packed up my bag for the precinct, all in less than an hour. I wound up cutting it a little close at the end, so when I got to the car and realized I'd forgotten my piping hot travel mug of pumpkin spice coffee with pumpkin spice creamer, I reluctantly went on without it. There was coffee from a machine at the precinct, but it definitely was not as good. But I did arrive on time, so that was good. There is a lot to do in the hour between 5am and 6am when the polls open. 

My position this election was procedural specialist, which basically meant that whenever a situation cropped up that required a procedure, I was the one who went and did it. This was things like "voter with absentee ballot wants to trade it in for a regular ballot," "voter with absentee ballot does not have their ballot and will have to vote provisionally," "voter is not on the pollbook and is not 100% sure whether they are registered, but wants to vote provisionally just in case they are," "something about voter has changed, usually married name or address, and they need to fill out a new voter registration form while they are voting" and "voter has no ID/ voter wants to give us a hard time about ID and needs to fill out the confirmation of identity form before voting." There's a lot of stuff to remember, and I crammed pretty hard in the days before the election, as well as stuffing my manual with post-it flags for important topics. 

During a busy election, being a procedural specialist could be pretty daunting, even overwhelming. Every unusual voter has to be handled carefully, to give their vote the best possible chance of being counted. Lucky for me, our precinct had very heavy early-voting representation. Out of 2200 registered voters, more than 1300 had voted early in person or gotten absentee ballots in the mail. We only had 398 voters all day long, which is primary-light turnout. It was a little funny because we'd staffed for a contentious and complex presidential election and had nearly double the usual staff load for an election, and all of us sat around almost all day. I wound up with only six provisional votes all day, plus four ID forms, four or five voter registration updates, and three absentee-for-regular ballot switches. Unfortunately situations seemed to crop up everytime I went to the bathroom for awhile in the morning, but I had a lot of downtime.  We did have some extra staff positions that needed filled, so it was good we had some extra people. There was an outside team of four people, keeping an eye out for any trouble, handling curbside voting, and directing people to the correct door for voting or vote dropoff. We had one position for "drop box guard" because every precinct in Virginia was also an authorized drop-off location for absentee ballots on Election Day. The election board was quite concerned about the possibility that somebody might abscond with a whole damn ballot box, even though it's the size of a school-age child, so somebody had to sit next to it all day long despite the fact that we only got three dropoff ballots. And of course there were the sanitizers, people whose job was to follow every voter leaving a station and sanitize that station with disinfectant before the next voter arrived. Other than that, though, we had a lot of extra people and mainly used the day as an opportunity to train the newbies. I spent four hours in the afternoon not even working the pollbook, but watching other people work the pollbook to make sure nobody made any mistakes. It was incredibly boring.  The last hour of the night, after the polls close, is even busier than the first hour of the morning. Everybody really wants to go home, and of course the registrar is chomping at the bit to get the vote totals, but everything has to be done exactly right or we all get in trouble. In Virginia, there are a dozen boxes and envelopes that need to be filled, accounted for, sealed and returned to the office at the end of the night. Each envelope needs specific paperwork, and each paper requires the right signatures. The actual used paper ballots go in their own box, marked on the top, sealed with tape, and then further sealed with three security labels signed by every officer of election. Normally with 12 officials this is not a big deal, but getting 22 names onto those labels this time was an exercise in writing very small. We were in good shape at the end of the night because we'd had no discrepancies and only one incident all day (Laptop 3 crapped out around 3pm, leaving us with two pollbooks for the rest of the day but it didn't matter because turnout was so light that we never had any lines), but it was still a lot of work.  My particular job was to shepherd the provisional ballots and the provisional ballot log and make sure they got where they needed to go. I had to have a second officer of the opposing political party ("Hey, I need a Republican who isn't doing anything!") count the six ballots with me, affirm that there were six ballots on the voting log, and then sign and seal them into their envelope. After that I helped get documents into the correct envelopes and make sure that everything got sealed according to the extremely arcane rules. It was honestly the most exciting and fast paced part of the entire day, and we broke down and packed up the entire precinct in only ninety minutes.  I went home exhausted to watch results, and of course it wasn't what we'd been hoping for. I can't believe so very many people are still totally ready for more of Trump's bullshit and incompetence. It honestly boggles my mind how such a hateful man gets so many otherwise reasonable people to vote for him. Even though I understood in principle the idea of a red mirage with early ballots being counted late, I was heartsick when I went to sleep and despite being exhausted, I slept very poorly.  This morning the news was better, though not great. A close race means litigation, and of course Trump claimed victory overnight despite huge numbers of uncounted ballots. He is human garbage. Our Democratic congresswoman held her seat, and her opponent made a gracious concession speech that was actually eloquent and nice. It's bizarre how quickly something like that becomes an oddity. But most of the mail-in ballots were for Democrats, as predicted, and the outcome is better, though still far from certain. After all these failures of prediction, I'm afraid to believe in anything at this point. But maybe tonight I will at least get some sleep.  Despite everything, life went on today. The kiddo had a day off for teacher workday because it's the end of the first quarter already. Jesus. I cleaned up the kitten room enough that my husband can now use it as the office it actually is supposed to be, so he worked in there today and I got my bedroom back. That was a high point of the day, definitely. I got my period, so that sucked, but at least I could lay in bed for awhile and not be on camera for a bunch of college students. In the morning I drove down and transported a cat to the recovery room for spaying tomorrow, which closed up another TNR site. We're picking away at our list, slow but sure, but it just keeps getting longer. There are  so many cats!  Later in the day, I noted that the kiddo had been using a lot of screen time and we had a discussion about whether he'd done the chores to actually earn those points. He cleaned out the dishwasher and went to clean his bathroom, and I was just about to start dinner when I heard the terrifying dual noises of running water and "MOM! THE TOILET IS FLOODING!" And it sure was, with gusto! I ripped the tank lid off and grabbed the float to stop the water running, and made the guys grab every towel in the house to get water off the floor before we gave the downstairs neighbors a bath. The flood lasted only about 30 seconds, but it put quite a bit of water on the floor. I was able to get the flapper back in place and determine nothing in the tank was actually broken, the flapper had just gotten stuck when the overflow began and it had cascaded from there.   But what had caused the backup? There was no waste in the water, one small blessing, just lots and lots of disintegrating toilet paper bits. The kiddo admitted that he'd had an inspiration while cleaning the toilet. There was a lot of gunk under the rim, he had explained, and he thought that if he could get the water high enough in the bowl, it would wash away the gunk with no need to scrub. So he'd taken a bunch of toilet paper and shoved it in the toilet to block it up, gotten the bowl nice and full, and then immediately realized he'd created a situation he couldn't stop. (He seemed to have been planning to use the plunger to remove the blockage, not realizing quite how much toilet paper he was using.) He was extremely contrite about the whole thing and promised to run future brilliant cleaning ideas past a parent for review. The clog proved highly resistant to plunging, and after an hour I was almost ready to throw in the towel and call maintenance to snake the damn thing. As a last ditch effort, I completely emptied the bowl, then filled it with a bucket of the hottest water I could coax from the bathtub, and used that to plunge. It worked, and the toilet finally flushed. Whew.  And then I had to make supper! I put together a nice meatloaf and preheated the oven, only for smoke to come pouring out of the damn thing. See, yesterday while I was working the polls, my husband cooked something, chili I think, in the oven, and realized that the pot he was using was much too full. He put a pan under it, but apparently the pot was much-much too full, because it overran that and the pan and got all over the oven and set off the smoke alarm. He'd wiped out the oven, but I think he missed the broiler and that's why it smoked right up again. At this point I just sighed and started looking for microwave meatloaf recipes. I did find one, and though it was not as good as oven meatloaf, it was edible, and I was really very done with household tasks for the day.  Now it is getting late and I'm beat, but the nerves won't go away. It is so hard to be in the same position as four years ago, disappointed in your country, terrified to hope for anything, but clinging to the possibility that things will be okay. It hurt so badly before, even worse than now I think, because it was so shocking. I guess it's like the first time your home gets ruined by a flood versus the second time, both times your house is ruined, but the second time at least you weren't surprised that something like this could happen. I wish I knew how to get off this flood plain. On the other hand, my Tumblr post of kittens has really taken off and has over a thousand notes. Apparently I was not the only one in need of high-octane cuteness to give my brain a few seconds of peace and happiness. I'm going to try and get some sleep now, here's hoping for better dreams and better tomorrow. Please, please, please. 

[love-fireflysong]

Day 23: Camp

Fandom: Tales of Phantasia Character(s): Chester Burklight, Arche Klein, Mint Adenade, Cress Albane, Claus F. Lester, Suzu Fujibayashi Words: 2527 Rating: General Author’s Notes: Oh shit, that’s right. We finally dealing with the whole cast this time, and since the prompt is Camp, I think you know what to expect...

“So, whose turn is it to cook this time?”

Claus looked up from the book he was reading, and rubbed his fingers along the brim of his hat as he thought out loud. “Hmmm. Well, Mint cooked last night, I made some curry the night before, and Suzu did something before that, can’t remember what though. So it’s down to either Cress, Arche, or Chester.”

Arche’s head popped up from where she was digging around in her bag and opened her mouth, but Chester butt in before she could say anything. “I am not letting you cook anything. I will cook both tonight and tomorrow if it comes to it.”

“You say that as though your cooking is any better than mine!”

“It’s leagues better than anything you’ve ever done, and you know it!”

Before their argument could get anymore off the rails and attract some of the local beasts to their campsite, Cress interrupted. “I’ll cook tonight, if it’s fine with everyone.”

Everyone else murmured their agreements and nodded their heads, except for Arche who batted her eyes in Cress’s direction. “Oh, that’s so nice of you, Cress—”

“Laying it on a bit thick don’t you think?” Chester grumbled under his breath. 

“—you’re so much more of a gentleman than somebody I won’t name.”

“Oh, and who exactly is that supposed to be?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you go ahead and guess, or are you too stupid to figure it out?”

Cress turned away from his best friend and the half-elf witch, ignoring their usual bantering and fighting, to look at Mint helping Suzu to start a fire. He smiled softly in her direction. “What ingredients do we still have on hand?” 

Mint paused her assistance with the young ninja to stand up and dig through the pouch of cooking supplied she always carried. “Well, we are beginning to run short on a few things. We used the last of the bread and eggs when we stopped for lunch after fighting that pack of Timber Wolves earlier in the day.”

Claus took her place next to Suzu, and helped to try and start the fire going. “Probably be a good idea to stock up again soon. Thankfully, Alvanista's only another day or so away, so we can at least fill back up on bread and eggs. We’re gonna be out of luck for if we want any quality seafood or fruit though.”

Cress thought for a bit. “We got the stuff for beef stew?”

Mint shook her head sadly. “Sorry Cress, but we ran out of potatoes a couple of days back when Claus made curry.”

“You made the curry too hot, Claus.” Suzu interjected casually. “You used way too many spices, so you should be more careful with that.”

He sighed. “It wasn’t that hot Suzu, everyone else was fine. Though I will try to lower the amount that I use for you.”

Suzu nodded, seemingly happy at the compromise and returned back to the fire.

“We still have some spices though, right?” Cress waited for Mint’s nod of approval and continued. “Well, what about spaghetti then?”

The cleric narrowed her eyes in concentration as she continued to dig around in the bag, before looking at him with clear victory in her eyes. “We still have a couple of tomatoes left, though this will definitely finish those off.”

Cress let out a sigh of relief and looked down at the still empty fire pit that Mint and Suzu had made. Squaring his shoulders, he turned back to Arche and Chester who had now started pulling at the others hair, while still calling the other names.

“She-demon!”

“Shifty eyes!”

“You’re so annoying you know that?!”

“Hey!” The two of them paused in their banter to look over at Cress, though they never actually let go of the other’s hair. “You think you can give us a hand with this fire, Arche?”

Chester just stared at him agog. “Are you nuts dude? She’ll burn the entire forest down if we’re not careful!”

Arche harrumphed as she let go of Chester, nearly shoving him backwards as she turned back to the fire. “I’ll show you...” she started to whisper words of arcane power under her breath as Cress, Mint, Suzu, and Claus all backed away from the the make-shift firepit. With a quick movement of her hands, the spell finished with a small, bright red spark cupped between her open palms. With a cry of  "Fireball!" she let the spark go and it expanded into a small, blazing ball of fire that collided into the dry twigs and leaves, and set it ablaze instantly. Victorious, she turned back to Chester, hands proudly resting on her hips. “Well? Got nothing to say with that smart mouth now?”

Chester snorted and rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You got lucky. Could have burned us all to a crisp if you weren’t careful.”

“Excuse you, I am always careful with my spells. I never miss my targets!”

“Really? So you were meaning to miss those Killer Bee’s and bean me in the back of the head with that Storm earlier?”

“Like I said, I never miss.”

“Why you—”

“They act like children sometimes, I swear.” Cress turned back to look at Claus shake his head in an odd mixture of exasperation and fondness. “Can’t take them anywhere together.”

Mint smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know, I think it’s sweet. I mean they never seem more alive or happy as when they’re teasing each other.”

Cress snorted and stuck his thumb over his shoulder at Arche and Chester who had begun to childishly pinch each other on their arms. “You call that happy? Or alive? I’m surprised that they haven’t tried to kill each other yet, honestly.”

Suzu shook her head in agreement. “I will never understand their relationship. I don’t understand why two people who are clearly very fond of each other would say such mean things.”

“You’ll understand one day, Suzu. Some people just show their affections differently that’s all.”

“Oh, you mean like you and Mirald, Claus?” Mint said innocently. Her smile only became more angelic when he pulled his hat further down to hide his red face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Mint.”

Suzu just watched all of this nonplussed. “I don’t think I want to understand.”

Cress sighed in agreement, clapping his hand onto her shoulder as he began to collect the ingredients needed for spaghetti. “Neither do I Suzu, neither do I.” 

Seeing that Mint was busy with helping chop up some of the veggies for the sauce and Claus had returned back to his book, rubbing at one of the many, many rings on his fingers, and not having the energy to interrupt whatever it was that Chester and Arche were doing for a third time, he turned back to Suzu. “I think I remember seeing a creek or river or something a little further back, do you mind going to fill this pot up with water for me?”

Suzu leveled him with a serious look, nodded once, and in a swirl of leaves vanished from sight with the pot in her hands. With that done, he went to sit down beside Mint and joined her in cutting up veggies and peeling the tomatoes for the sauce. The soft, appreciative smile she gave him as he did so sent his stomach doing pleasant little flips. Arche and Chester could keep whatever it was they had going on, he thought that this was much nicer.

Speaking of, Cress turned his attention to the bickering duo when he started to stir the pot of peeled and crushed tomatoes and spices when he realized how quiet it had suddenly gotten. Only to see that they had stopped their arguing at some point, and were now going through their own packs. Chester stopped his rummaging and turned to his quiver.

“Hey, Cress? Do you remember how many arrows I started with today?”

Before Cress could respond that he wasn’t sure, Arche already had, not looking up from her own pack as she continued her own digging. “Thirty-two,” she replied matter-of-factly. “There are a few sticks over that way that you might be able to use to make some new arrows. I managed to save a couple of feathers from the various Chirpees and Scavengers we killed earlier that you can use for fletching, too.”

“Sweet, thanks Arche.” Chester turned his head to talk to her over his shoulder. “If you’re looking for that new spell book you found near Suzu’s village, you gave it to Mint to hold onto last night. It should be in her bag.”

“Oh right! I totally forgot!”

Cress just looked at Mint and Claus bemused, but both only shrugged at him as they continued their own duties for the night, but not before Mint handed Arche the Fire Storm spell book she had been looking for. Soon enough, Suzu returned with the pot full of water, and Cress placed it off to the side while she used her skill to once again vanish, this time appearing at the top of a tree. There she opened the scroll that they had bought off of the kunochi at the summit of Lone Valley.

The rest of the time passed in relative peace as Cress continued to make supper while Mint assisted him. Claus mumbled under his breath as he continued to twist at his rings and add new sections to his book while Suzu never moved from her spot in the tree above them. Chester sat on a nearby log as he slowly and methodically carved and fletched new arrows, and Arche sat behind him, leaning onto the log and resting her head on his back as she frantically flipped through pages of her spell book. All in all, it was as peaceful an evening as Cress could have hoped for. 

Finally though, the sauce finished and he was pleased to announce as such. “Alright guys, looks like it’s about done!”

“Finally,” Arche whined as she tucked her book under arm, accepting Chester’s hand to help her up. “Thought I was gonna die of starvation over here.”

Chester nodded solemnly. “It’s true. I could hear her stomach the entire I was making arrows. It was very distracting, almost stabbed myself with my knife a couple of times it was so loud.”

Once Mint handed Arche her bowl and fork, she didn’t hesitate to jab her fork into Chester’s side. “It’s not nice to take about a lady’s stomach like that.”

“What lady? The only lady I see here is Mint, and I’ve never once talked about her stomach.”

Claus groaned in exasperation. “Can we please have a meal in peace for once? You two can continue your flirting after we finish eating.”

Instead of appearing embarrassed though, Chester only laughed. “Who’d flirt with her? I’m not interested in shrill, annoying, pink, brats.”

Arche only nodded in agreement. “Exactly. My type is tall, dark, and handsome. Not blue, loud-mouthed, and hot-headed.”

“Who're you calling loud-mouthed?”

“Well, who were you calling annoying?”

Mint giggled quietly behind her hand as Cress gave out a serving of sauce to Suzu. Who looked askance at her bowl, and then at Cress. “You didn’t put in too many spices did you?”

He shook his head fondly and patted her on her own head. “No, I made sure to go light on them this time. You should be fine.”

“Good. Thank you.”

After getting his own bowl filled, Claus lifted the brim of his hat to take a look at the now very dark sky. “We should probably figure out our watch order while we eat. It’s getting late and we should all be heading to sleep pretty soon. I’ll take first watch though, I want to get some more writing done before I hit the hay.”

“I can take the final watch,” Suzu offered. She noticed Mint make a face of concern but raised her hand. “It’s fine. I’m used to early mornings anyhow. It’s when I do my training.”  She stuck a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth and made a satisfactory nod at the taste.

“Oh,” Mint said instead. “If you’re sure, Suzu... I can do third then.” She turned to Cress before he could say a word, giving him an uncharacteristically stern look. “You made supper tonight, Cress, not me. I only helped to cut some veggies so that doesn’t count. Which means you’re exempt from watch duty. It’s your own rule after all.” Cress shrunk back a little at that. She wasn’t wrong, she was just using the rule he had made for her when she had had to cook every night against him.

“Oh! I’ll take sch-econd vatch zen!” Arche butt in with an excited grin, mouth full of spaghetti that she frantically swallowed down. “Maybe I can finish reading my spell book tonight and have a new spell to try out in the morning.”

“Welp, guess it looks like I’m on second watch with you then.” Chester sighed like he was being put-upon to do this. “Someone’s gotta babysit you after all. Make sure you don’t get lost when you go out for a midnight flight or something.”

“I think if anyone here needs babysitting its you, but suit yourself.”

Cress, Mint, and Claus all shared a look of puzzlement. This was unusual, the two of them rarely agreed to take watch together, and if this was the only the first time it would be one thing. But it wasn’t. This was almost the fourth time in a row that they offered to do so. Something was up, and Cress wasn’t sure he wanted to know what.

With a confused shrug, Claus stuck a forkful of spaghetti and sauce in his mouth and made a face. “Are you sure you put enough spices in, Cress? This is kinda bland.”

Mint sighed as she handed the spice bag to Claus. “It’s harder then you think to make meals that both you and Suzu will eat, you know.”

“Yeah,” Chester butt in as he elbowed Arche with a snicker. “Why can’t you be like this one? She’ll eat anything as long as it’s vaguely edible.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you ever insult your own cooking like that, Chester.” Cress fired back casually from next to Mint as he picked at his bowl. “Not usually your style.”

Chester just stared dumbfounded at Cress while Arche nearly fell off the log she was sitting on she was laughing so hard. Even Claus snorted into his spaghetti and Mint hid a smile behind her fork as she took a bite. Suzu seemed to be the only one unaffected, but Cress could make out the amusement in her eyes and the slight upturn of her smile.

“Cress, dude. What the hell, man?”

Cress just shrugged with a grin on his face as he took his own bite of supper tonight. Sure, camping was chaotic whenever they had to do it, but it was definitely his favourite part of them travelling together. 

[aevus-blogging]

The Crew is faced with a dead-end alley between two very tall buildings (think Urban Fantasy AU) Michael *climbs up with his claws* Ryan *Teleports* Gavin *spreads his golden wings and flys* Jeremy *Parkours up* Geoff *Who has no special abilities*: ... I'm just gonna take the stairs. -😺

Dear Sir Cat Anon, I don’t know what exactly you expected upon sending this, but I present you an urban fantasy au oneshot. I went perhaps a bit outside what you gave me, but I got an idea and went with it.

———————

It was supposed to be an easy in and out. The apothecary was a front for a necromancy ring, and gods the balance was too wrong to let it go. All they had to do was get in, destroy the nomicon and get out. It should have been easy. They had forgotten to factor in the modern eras own personal wonder, the automatic alarm system.

Ryan had easily gotten in, the spectre of death simply teleporting in. Unfortunately he hadn’t thought to check the shop for an alarm system when he went to let the other two in. As soon as he had opened the door the alarm went off, causing the Werebear and the Chimera to stiffen.

“Oh great.” Gavin huffed, wings angrily flapping behind him as he fiddled with his golden choker.

“Don’t give me that. Trash the store while I search.” Ryan snapped at the chimera. As a Soul Reaper Ryan had a much stronger connection to death than the others, the nomicon should theoretically sing with Death energy. Gavin rolled his eyes, clicking and hissing in an ancient tongue that even if Ryan heard would have flown over his head.

“Gavvers let the scary death dude do his job. Ours is to make this seem like an act of vandalism.” Michael gruffed out, already tearing down a bookshelf. Gavin winced at the crash and shattering of glass as the shelf of crystal balls met the floor. Gavin honestly didn’t know why he was chosen to trash the store instead of stand look out. He was much better with a scope than Jeremy. But Gavin complied, taking a rock and throwing it at the window from the outside for that extra touch of realism. So far no sirens, then again this was Los Santos, the cops probably had three other robberies to deal with as well right now. Gavin was about to ask what was taking Ryan so long when he heard a scream of pain from the reaper.

“Ryan!” Gavin called out, rushing through the ruined shop to get to his crew mate and friend.

“Stay back!” Ryan growled out, in the back of the shop. Did Gavin or Michael listen? No. The two burst into the back, seeing Ryan trapped in a very ornate sigil. Michael was immediately reeling back, a snarl on his throat. Gavin could feel the energy radiating from the sigil, could feel out sucking at his energy like a black hole.

“Trapping Sigil. Designed to kill and leech a magical entity of its energy.” Ryan grit out, cracks showing on his skin. “Fail safe on their nomicon, only activated when i destroyed it.”

“Geoff we-“ Michael shot into the comms before being stopped by Ryan.

“He won’t make it in time. You two go.”

“We can’t. I won’t.” Gavin growled out, wings flaring. The sigil was well made, but Gavin could destroy it.

“You don’t understand, this is arcane magic Gavin!” Ryan shouted, Gavin only looked at Ryan, eye glowing gold, same with the choker he always wore.

“I know Soul Reaper.” Gavin said, voice echoing as if spoken by ten of him at once. For the first time in a millenia Gavin was letting his true power leak through the facade he kept up. The ‘Chimera’ reached out, touching and shattering the sigil containing Ryan. The Reaper fell to his knees as he was freed while Michael could only watch in awe.

“Ryan, can you walk?” Gavin asked, glow subsiding as he returned to ‘normal’.

“Yes I can Seraphim.” Ryan said, causing Gavin to flinch a bit.

“Dickheads, we need to go now!” Geoff yelled into the comms. Ryan gave Gavin a look as he stood up.

“Right, we destroyed the book, we’re heading out.” Ryan said. Gavin knew Ryan had questions for him, that Michael would as well. Once everyone was safe Gavin knew he’d have to spill. But for now, escape. Gavin could hear sirens approaching and followed Ryan out. The trio booked it out of the vandalised apothecary and to the meeting place were Geoff and Jeremy were waiting.

“Jack’s got a car for us near the Theatre and Scalp intersection.” The witch told them, taking in the trio’s appearance and frowning.

“What happened?”

“We’ll explain when we get home Geoff.” Gavin said. Now was not the time to reveal to the world who he was. Gods knew what would happen. Geoff looked like he wanted to argue, but with the sound of sirens drawing closer he knew better than to argue.

“Fine. We only have a few blocks to go.” Geoff said before a cop car pulled out onto their street, headlights illuminating them.

“Run!” Jeremy shouted, turning around and just racing down the street. The others rushed to follow the son of Hermes as the police car revved after them. The quintet was practically herded into an alley by the cop, police car parked so that none of the five could run out without running into the other cop, blocking them in.

“Freeze! Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees!” The coo shouted, aiming his gun at them. The crew exchanged a quick glance before Ryan shrugged and just vanished, teleporting to the roof tops.

“No thanks Mate!” Gavin called out to the man, spreading his wings and launching up. The man looked frantic as he tried aiming at the winged man with shaky hands. Next to go was Michael, partially shifting so that he could use his massive claws to dig into the wall to climb it. Once Michael was about halfway up Jeremy gave the cop a two fingered salute before running at the wall, using his parkour skills and the crevices Michael had made to climb up after the werebear.

“I’m always the one stuck on the ground.” Geoff muttered as the cop trained his gun back on the witch.

“On your knees!” The cop shouted, trembling as he advanced on Geoff. Geoff just glared at the man, muttering a sleeping spell and flicking it at the cop. Down he went, gun clattering to the cold asphalt. Geoff shoved his hands in his pockets as he climbed the fire escape, muttering the whole time.

The group was waiting for him at the top of the building. Geoff gave each of them a glare, slightly bitter none had stayed to help. Ryan huffed and raised his hands and shook his head.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m running on empty.” The Reaper said.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just get to Jack.” Geoff huffed out. The group followed his lead along the rooftops, ignoring the fading sound of sirens as they reached the meeting place. Just below them a midnight blue suv was waiting for them. One by one they descended, Gavin carrying Geoff this time. In no time the suv was packed full and their Selkie driver was looking over at all of them.

“Fun night boys?” They asked, a small smile on their face.

“The most Jack.” Geoff huffed out. Jack just laughed and started the drive back home.

“You three have some explaining to do.” Geoff said, looking at Gavin, Michael, and Ryan.

[amicablestone]

Day 12: Solidarity and Sisterhood (not so little part 1)

From the yard behind the Hakurei shrine came the faintest tinkling of bells, followed by a loud thump.

“I think you did a little better that time” said Reimu in her best attempt at supportive.

“That was because I jumped” said Kosuzu in a heap in front of a small step ladder.

“Well, next time jump harder.”

“You know,” Kosuzu propped herself up by her arms, “I was pretty excited when you said you where going to teach me how to fly, but now it almost feels like you're just making fun of me.”

Reimu offered a hand to help her up, “I’m sorry, but there really isn’t much for me to teach. The way it feels is different for everybody, so there’s nothing for it but to just keep trying until you find the way the works for you.”

“Right...” Kosuzu sounded skeptical as she climbed the ladder again.

“I’m serious. I don’t think of anything but Marisa thinks of everything: ‘wind speed’ and ‘air resistance’ and ‘humidity’ and ‘ground topography’ and a hundred other little things that even she admits don’t make any sense.”

“You don’t think anything?” Kosuzu asked balanced precariously on top of the step ladder.

She nodded, “I just ignore the ground and float away. Watch.” she closed her eyes and held her arms out to her sides. Slowly, she started to rise into the air.

Despite the bruises this exercise was definitely going to give her, Kosuzu had to admit that it was just about the coolest thing she had ever seen. She was still a little annoyed though. “Earth! Down Ground!”

Reimu opened her eyes with a smirk about a meter off the ground. “Nice try, but I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been walking. It’ll take more than that to trip me up.”

Kosuzu clicked her tongue in mock disappointment, “Worth a shot.” After a moment's hesitation, she closed her eyes, copied Reimu’s pose, tried to clear her mind, took a breath, and stepped into the air.

Somehow, she stayed there.

She wasn’t ignoring the ground but she wasn’t thinking about its topography either. There was definitely something darting around the back of her head, something intimately familiar, nostalgic even, yet she couldn’t quite make it out. She tried to grab it, to make it clear, but the instant it came into focus it disappeared, and she fell flat on her face.

Reimu rushed to her side and helped her sit up. “You had it!”

“I lost it! I have no idea what I did and I didn’t even break my fall and … and …” she snorted back tears “… and that really hurt.”

“Oh, let me look at you.” Reimu cooed sympathetically, she gently held Kosuzu’s chin to better see her cheek, which was covered in dirt and had started to bleed. “Come on, let’s get this cleaned up.”

As they walked to the nearby well, Reimu noticed a small dark shape in the sky, “I think we picked a perfect time for a break anyway. It looks like your next instructor is on her way.”

The first thing Marisa did when she landed was pull out props, so after Kosuzu had her wound washed and bandaged, she found herself sitting on a small stool holding a truly ancient slate (and no chalk) facing Marisa, who stood behind a rickety-looking lectern.

Both of Marisa’s arms where posed dramatically holding the sides of the podium. “The first thing you need to know about magic,” she began, “is that it’s impossible.

“The thing that unites the things that I do, that Reimu does, that you do, and that the folks in the outside world do,” as she spoke she made an all-encompassing gesture with one hand, and without the support that side the lectern fell away, “is the fact that a person should not be able to do them.

“So how do you do the impossible? There are several methods, but the easiest is to find something you are so good at that you can use it to punch through the limitations of the world!

“Whether it’s an inherited trait, a learned skill, or a mastered magical item, it’s the seed from which your powers grow. When you hear people talking about their ‘ability’ this is generally what they mean.”

Kosuzu raised her hand, feeling only a little bit silly.

“Yes, you in the front.” Marisa pointed with her other hand, letting the rest of the lectern collapse.

“Akyuu told me that ‘abilities’ are self-reported and don’t really mean anything.”

At this point, Marisa abandoned the ruins of the lectern and started meandering around the yard. “That’s ‘cause they are and they don’t, ‘least not to anyone but the person doing the reporting.”

She settled on a rock not far from her pupil, “The truth is that most magic-users end up drawing power from a whole ton of different sources, but it’s important to think of them all as one thing, whatever form that ‘thing’ ends up taking.” She taped her temple, “A lot of magic boils down to perspective and what mental space your in.”

Kosuzu shifted awkwardly on her stool until they where facing each other, “So you’re saying nobody will be able to give me a straight answer on what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, that isn’t strictly true; if you’re speaking generally,” Marisa scratched the back of her neck contemplatively, “us magicians have the right perspective to teach our kind magic, but it takes a real long time, plus you already have your own ability coloring the way you see magic. Even if I taught you everything I know you probably couldn’t use any of it.”

Kosuzu sighed, “Don’t get me wrong, I love being able to read whatever I want but I don’t think my ability is suited for flying around and shooting youkai”

“You might be surprised, but if you’re feeling stuck you could always go back to the source of your ability and see if you can squeeze something else from it.”

“The source?” Marisa’s list hadn’t included ‘just something you woke up with one day.’

Marisa shrugged, “Could have been anything: a drop of youkai blood in your family tree, exposure to something arcane, maybe you managed to preform the right ritual in your dreams. Figuring out what it was could be useful even if it doesn't end up giving you a free power-up,” she glanced at the position of the sun, “though maybe we should call that homework. You’re supposed to be at work soon and Reimu and me have a hootenanny to prepare for.”

With Marisa’s help, Kosuzu made it back to Suzunaan with time to spare, not that it mattered much, traffic was low in the best of times and with the harvest going on nobody was going to be borrowing books. Since she was hoping to have to explain her plaster to as few people as possible, Kosuzu was willing to count that as a blessing today.

It was late in the afternoon when the familiar face of the day’s first customer walked in. More accurately, the customer was familiar but it had actually been a while since Kosuzu had seen that particular face.

“You’re certainly here early Miss...” she cut herself off at the last second.

Mamizou Futatsuiwa put a playful finger up to the lips of her human disguise, “There’s nothing more boring than keeping normal hours, deary, and I happen to have an important date tonight.”

“Oh, are you going to Reimu’s party?”

Mamizou visibly deflated from loss of mystique as she approached the counter, “And how do you know about that, little lady? More importantly, what happened to your face?!”

Kosuzu shrunk back, suddenly self-conscious, “It’s nothing, I just fell playing by the wall.”

“Little old to be gamboling about, aren't we?”

“Um, mind writing that one down?” Kosuzu laughed nervously.

Mamizou leaned forward just enough to be intimidating, “I appreciate the effort, but you’d have to get up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on me, so cut the horsefeathers and tell me who scuffed my favorite little bell.”

Kosuzu put her hands up in a mild panic. She remembered what had happened when Mamizou found out she’d been having trouble with a bully, the poor kid’s family was still cleaning out tanuki fur. “It’s nothing like that! Reimu and Marisa have been teaching me to fly and I just haven’t gotten the hang of it yet.”

Mamizou leaned back, seemingly satisfied, “Earning your wings, eh? How’s that working out for you? Beyond the marring I mean.”

“Honestly? It feels like the whole thing was designed specifically to make asking questions and getting meaningful answers back impossible.”

“That’s definitely the way of it, sometimes,” Mamizou nodded sagely, “but I have an ear if you have the inclination.”

She thought for a moment, “I guess the main thing that’s puzzling me is that Marisa said doing things like that would be an extension of my ability, but I was able to fly for a second and it didn’t feel like that at all. It was more like someone was helping me, someone I knew but couldn’t recognize for some reason.” She looked at Mamizou, “It wasn’t you, was it?”

The bake-danuki laughed, “You got me! Giving folks invisible piggyback rides and then dropping them on there faces has always been how I got my kicks! Japes aside, I’d recommend taking everything that witch says with a grain of salt, a magician can look at just about anyone and see a failed magician.”

Kosuzu groaned, “There’s that word again. The way I ‘see’ it everyone else ‘sees’ exactly where they need to go and who they need to be, but what if what I ‘see’ right now is all I ever will?”

Mamizou ruffled the girl’s hair in a way that would have been demeaning coming from anybody but her, “Listen here, Suzy, and I’ll let you in on a little secret: growing up is all one giant confidence trick. If anyone looks like they know what they’re doing, they’re putting on a show, myself included.

“Once upon a time, I was just a mangy little thing that could only think about getting enough food for winter, and now I’m here having the time of my life surrounded by friends and family, things I quite literally could not have dreamed of before. That wasn’t a plan, I didn’t have a map, I just kept putting one paw in-front of another.

“Look, your peepers are mighty special but they’re not your be-all-end-all, and they’re not why we’re behind you. Me, and Marisa, and Reimu, and the whole gang are all thinking the same thing: that you can do anything you set your mind to. That’s not a matter of perspective, it’s a cold, hard, fact.”

Kosuzu had her eyes squarely on the counter and was blushing furiously, “Thank you Miss Mamizou... I think I needed to hear that.”

Mamizou held her head up high, “Always happy to help. Now then,” she reached into her pocket for what was only probably a bundle of leaves, “about my overdues...”

[aelryndel]

Ael’s Pilgrimage Day 6

Day Six: Karazahn

Ael was up early, before dawn early. As he led, Adrenas out of the stables, he paid the stable keeper and then was on his way once more. The duo left Bog Paddle and headed for Deadwind Pass. The trip was arduous, Adrenas nearly slipped several times on the decaying cliffs and deteriorating roads that lead through Deadwind Pass. When he arrived in the little town, well the ruins of it. He immediately felt a shiver run down his spine. Was he being watched? Who was out there? Instinctually, the arcane began to gather around him defensively.  If Ael thought his troubles were over when he finally arrived at Kara’s main entrance, he quickly realized that was not the case. He rode up to the main entrance and immediately felt the deep arcane connection of the nexus that sat underneath the crumbling tower. Knowing this was going to be dangerous, the task Alison gave him, he dismounted and let Adrenas go about his own business. The Warhorse was more than capable of defending himself. Ael needed to worry about what he’d find on his way up to the library in the ruined home of the old Guardian. He grabbed his pack, his shield, and his spellblade and then entered the main entrance.

Inside the tower, Ael moved quietly through the courtyard and into the main house. The ghosts he knew were there seemed to be quiet for the time being. He traveled through the grand hall, and into the banquet hall. His luck ran out when he attempted to enter the Master’s Terrace. An arcane construct blocked the path to the upper levels and ultimately the library. There was no way to go around. The Spellblade drew his enchanted blade, the broadsword ignited in golden energy as its master drew it. Ael whispered the spell he needed to cast before this turned into full on combat. His armor lit up with the magical runes embedded in it and the soft translucent golden magic made his armor shine slightly. He strolled forward cautiously and engaged the construct. The fight went as one would have expected. Ael’s enchanted Spellbreaker armor basically nullified the arcane construct’s magical attacks. With the magical properties being negated, the Elven Spellblade only had to deal with the actual impacts of the massive construct’s physical attacks. Within a half of an hour, he emerged. He was battered and bruised but he had vanquished his foe not without great effort. From the menagerie, he ascended the tower and a little while later made it to the Library. 

Inside the library he realized the true difficulty of the task Alison had given him. How was he going to find one book in so many? Aelryndel began searching the closest shelves. No luck. He moved on to the next, then the next, and the next. He searched every bookshelf in the library and couldn’t find the book. It had been hours. But the Squire would not fail the last task his Knight Mentor had given him. Ael began searching the piles of books scattered all over the large room. Another hour or so later, he managed to find the book he was searching for, A Treatise On Time: Volume 1&2, The Year of Southern Tempests. Having retrieved the book, the dutiful Squire stuffed into his pack and then moved to the exit. It was then he heard them. The ghosts, they were coming. Had his taking the book released them? Angered them? He’d be damned if some long dead servants were going to stop him from returning a book belonging to the Royal Library. Ael muttered an incantation, and began the hand gestures associated with forming the spell. As he summoned the Arcane to his hands and began to morph it to his typical holy hybrid power, he felt the power of the nexus pulsating beneath the base of the tower.  What surprised him was the amount of power he felt in his hands as he cast the spell. As the words of the spell began to spill out from the Wizard’s mouth, “Shar Diel dath dor Al’shar.” the golden magic surged with the completion of the spell. And just in time. Ghosts, too numerous to count, began converging on the Aelryndel. The surge of power combined with his own magic caused the explosion of holy arcane fire to blast outward and engulfed the entire library in the holy fire. The Ghosts were subsequently destroyed or just temporarily sent back to where they came from. Ael did not have time to reflect on what just happened. The Library seemed to be burning, and the heat felt real to him. He grabbed a chair and hesitantly smashed one the stained glass windows. Whispering another spell he ran and dove out the window near the top of the tower.  

His spell kicked in as he was plummeting to his death. His rapid descent was slowed completely, almost to a stop. He slowly fell, righting himself so that when he arrived on the ground he’d be standing upright. Within a few moments he was back on the ground, book still in his pack and mission accomplished. So he thought. Outside a trio of humanoids had Adrenas cornered in a dilapidated ruin of a house. There were a few of their bodies on the ground around them, it seems Adrenas had tried to fight them off. Ael acted quickly. “Neph’o Shar Alah!” he shouted as he sprinted towards his steed. Arcane magic flew to his hands and he flung the magic outward in a thin fan-like wave of energy that slowly morphed from the azure of the arcane to the bright gold of holy magic. The wave smashed into the trio as they were turning to see the source of the shout. It threw them back into the walls of the house. Without stopping Ael leapt up on to Adrenas, whistling as he did so the Warhorse would move immediately. As they darted into the ruined town. More of the black garbed humanoids began to pour out of the other houses. They were benign controlled, Ael deduced as every avenue he took through the town seemed to quickly swell with the mysterious brigands. They were funneling him to a specific place. The former Elven Cavalier relented and followed the open streets to the town center. There stood a black robed person. As Ael arrived, the mystery person drew the dark hood back, revealing a half human half elven face, nearly skeletal in appearance. 

“Welcome. Welcome.” he said in an icy voice. Which made Ael narrow his gaze at the thing, before he looked around as all exits were quickly cut off by masses of black garbed skeletons? “A necromancer, how quaint!” Ael said in response, “You are an original...” Aelryndel started. “...With a flair for the theatrics.” The half Elven necromancer smirked and performed a theatrical bow. “I try. Now if you will hand over whatever it is you took from the Library, we’ll be on our way. If you won’t, well let's not find out what happens if you don’t. And don’t bother lying, I heard the ghosts when you stole the book.” Ael’s eyebrows raised curiously, “And what are you? An Opera reject turned self-proclaimed protector of the Guardian’s Library’s virginity?” 

There was no humor in the Necromancer’s response. “Cocky. I can respect that. But do you think that because you survived the climb to the tower’s top you are some kind of accomplished explorer or.. What are you anyway? An upside down broom?” Ael couldn’t help it, that was funny. He laughed out loud at his own expense. “You’re right. That is exactly what I am. Shall I show you what this helm symbolizes?” Ael asked honestly as he pointed to the Cavalier’s helm on his head. As the half Elf deliberated upon his response, Ael reached into his pack and grabbed the extra blank pilgrimage journal he had brought. Using his finger he inscribed a rune on the leather cover and pressed his hand to it. The run was empowered and then faded away completely. 

“You’ve stalled long enough, interloper. The book. Now. Or we kill you.” The necromancer demanded holding his hand out. Ael sighed heavily, “Now that’s just too bad. But alright you drive a hard bargain.” Ael drew the boobytrapped tome and held it up. “You want it? Catch!” Ael tossed the book high into the air and then kicked Adrenas into motion. As they smashed, stomped and cut their way through the mass of undead, Ael called out back towards the necromancer. “Shar Bandu!” The tome in the half Elf’s hand lit up, with the rune on the cover glowing bright golden. “Time to go, boy!” The rider said to the mount. Adreans knew and responded in kind. The two barged through the mass just as Ael’s trap went off. A huge blast  of holy magic disintegrated the necromancer and most of his skeletons around him. The remaining one fell to pieces without their master’s magic. Ael and Adreans shot out onto the road leaving the town and leading out of Deadwind Pass just avoiding the blast. 

Rider and horse didn’t stop, they rode hard and fast, without looking back. Both of them had had enough of ghosts, undead, and necromancers. When they exited Deadwind Pass and entered Duskwood, the same eerie feeling Ael hated about this area returned. He huffed and pushed Adrenas faster. “We’re almost home, bud.” By nightfall, the duo arrived in Redridge. The familiar blue and gold of the Alliance made them both happy as they rode through Three Corners. And then finally they arrived back in Elwynn. It was late, nearly midnight, but they were so close so they rode on till they arrived at the Garrison sometime after three of four in the morning.

[alternateafterthought]

Arcane - Part 2

ARCANE

Ø  Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø  Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø  Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø  Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø  Warnings: None

Ø  Word Count: 2176

Ø  A/N: Hey guys… here is the next part of my Min Yoongi fic!! Thank you to everyone who has showed interest in the first part! I hope you really enjoy the  next part of this fic!! I would really love your feedback!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! Thank you so much!!

PREV / NEXT

J-Hope had started with the oldest. Introductions to the fox hybrid, who called himself Seokjin, was quiet and welcomed by Y/N.

He had sat down across from Y/N and they simple spoke. Y/N had asked how long he had been in the shelter.

“8 months.” Jin had nodded, with a small sad smile on his face. “My previous owner was an elderly couple who treated me like their grandson. They have passed since then.”

Y/N had held his hand and they spoke for a few more minutes before J-Hope came back. After Seokjin was the German Shepard hybrid who was much taller than Y/N and wearing a pair of thick glasses. He seemed so put together as he introduced himself, offering his large hand, but ultimately his foot caught on the chair leg, causing the large man to trip a little.

Somehow, Y/N caught him, helping him to steady his feet as he started to blush. Y/N helped him to stand, fixing the shirt he wore to be a little straighter, flattening the hair that stood up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. Everyone trips sometimes.”

The hybrid smiled a wide dimpled smile and introduced himself as Namjoon, a hybrid who until recently was a police hybrid. He didn’t exactly what to share why he was no longer on the force, but Y/N knew when never to push a subject.

Namjoon was there for a few more minutes before J-Hope came for him, leaving a very bright, highly active Golden Retriever hybrid. His boxy smile and bright eyes caused Y/N to return his wide smile, offering her hand but instead being wrapped in the hybrid’s arms.

His deep voice introduced him as “Taehyung”, his enthusiasm for life was refreshing. He was so warm and lively; his stories were so active that Y/N couldn’t help but to be completely interested in what he talked about. He left no room for awkwardness and it was honestly something Y/N loved.

“I’ve only been here for 2 months but they let me paint and draw and take photos like my old owners used to.” Taehyung’s energetic response only made Y/N that much happier to be around him.

J-Hope came to collect Taehyung a few minutes later, Taehyung saying bye with a hug again. This time Y/N was left with J-Hope only, no other hybrid, at least not yet it would seem. J-Hope sat Y/N down, obviously needing to have some type of serious talk with Y/N about something.

“So, I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you’re okay?” J-Hope sat on the edge of his seat.

“I’m doing well. They are some amazing men aren’t they.” Y/N smiled widely, not as wide as J-Hope though.

“They are amazing men.” J-Hope emphasised the word “Men”, like it wasn’t something normally heard about them. “I would like to give you a bit of a warning for the next one though.”

From the look of J-Hope’s eyes scanning over to where the files sat on the opposite side of the table to them. The final hybrid that hadn’t been in to see her yet sat on top; the feline hybrid was always a concern for J-Hope. Not in a bad way, but more in a way that if anyone was to be adopted today, J-Hope would hope that it was him.

With a raised eyebrow, J-Hope continued to speak; “There is nothing wrong with him, he’s great just like the others. But I do have to legally tell you that if you do not adopt him today, he will be sent away to a breeding facility.”

“But he isn’t the oldest. You said Seokjin was the oldest right? So why is he not being sent to a breeding facility?” Y/N asked honestly.

“Seokjin is the oldest but he has not been here long, and with his past he is someone easily adopted by the elderly.” J-Hope looked Y/N in the eye. “Yoongi has been in and out of here his entire life. He has spent more time in this shelter then he has in a home.”

“Is there something wrong with him?” Y/N had to ask. “I only ask so I can make a proper decision today.”

“He’s quiet and a panther hybrid. So, people usually think he’s mean or scary and really…” J-Hope shook his head as he thought about the next hybrid. “He’s the sweetest guy.” He smiled. “I’ll bring him in.”

Y/N waited all of 30 seconds for J-Hope to return to the room with a feline hybrid behind him. Said hybrid trailed behind, before J-Hope smiled and bowed his head slightly before leaving the room, his ears stood tall, his tail, the same opal black as his ears and hair swayed behind him.

It seemed this shelter was a lot freer when it came to what they were dressed in, Y/N had noticed that all three previous hybrids had all been in something different. She liked that even though they were all in black, white, and grey, they all seemed to have a different personality, even with clothing. Like Yoongi, who now stepped into the room, black jeans, black sweater, and black shoes. Everything matched, his ears, his tails, his clothing, everything except his eyes.

His eyes practically glowed, even in the well-lit room, his eyes seemed to completely glow. Y/N noticed his eyes were gold, almost like honey from where he stood next to the window by the door. He honestly looked bored, his eyes heavy lidded, like he had trouble keeping them open, his mouth sat in a straight line, though his lips were slightly parted. Most of his bangs seemed to cover his eyes and still they were the most striking feature of his face.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Y/N offered her hand, just like she had with the others. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Yoongi raised his hands, palms up as the door was closed. “I don’t want to know your name. I don’t want you to adopt me. I will be honest with you; I am here against my will.” He saw Y/N’s raised eyebrow as her hand dropped back to her side before he kept talking. “I talked to J-Hope, I told him I didn’t want to be adopted again and would be find to just live here the rest of my life.”

“You really think they’ll let you stay here?” Y/N had to ask, thinking of the note on his file, the one letting her know he wouldn’t be able to stay here.

“I’ve been here long enough. J-Hope will let me stay.” Yoongi was determined to stay it would seem. “I’m not some pet you can just adopt for fun.” Yoongi seemed to look Y/N up and down. “You seem young and… adventurous,” He made eye contact with her again. “Why would you want a hybrid anyway? For sex?”

For a moment Y/N just stared at him, before bursting out laughing. Yoongi was shocked to see the women in front of him full body laugh, her hand holding onto the table as her legs gave way. She laughed hard and loud, curling in on her knees as Yoongi just stood there watching her.

When she finally composed herself, she wiped away a few stray tears as she stood, giggling a little still. She hauled herself off the floor, fixing her dress before facing Yoongi again, still slightly giggling.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh that much.” Y/N held her hand out for him again. “Trust me I don’t want a pet and I don’t want a hybrid for sex. The least you can do when you meet someone new is shake their hand.”

Yoongi was hesitant at first but his large hand eventually enveloped Y/N’s smaller one; “So why do you want a hybrid? An older hybrid at that.”

“Freedom.” Y/N pulled her hand away from Yoongi’s, offering him to sit with her. “My parents are kinda overbearing, and I need a way out. A hybrid would give me that freedom to just… live.”

“Why can’t you live by yourself?” Yoongi boldly asked.

“Why do you want to stay here?” Y/N countered.

Both of them seemed to just stare at each other, waiting for one of them to say something. Both of them could see that neither of them were going to be the first one to talk so Y/N picked up his file before sitting it in front of him. Yoongi looked down at it before away, only to take a double look at the note next to his picture.

“So, what, your showing me this to make me beg you to adopt me?” Yoongi pushed his file back towards Y/N, who was quick to catch it.

“I’m give you a way out.” Y/N spoke honestly. “We can help each other. You get out of this…” Y/N tapped the file. “And I get out of overbearing parents.”

Y/N would never have admitted, but as amazing as the first three hybrids were, she had chosen Yoongi already. He was in a similar situation to her, he needed a way out, to live on his own terms. So, they could help each other, they could be the reason both of them could survive in this world. She hoped he would take the opportunity to help himself as much as her.

“And what? I live with you as your pet? As some sex hybrid for you?”

“Seriously, what is with you and sex?” Y/N asked. “Are you in heat?”

Yoongi gave Y/N a look that made her want to start giggling again, but she kept it in as her fingers tapped on the table. She sighed, covering up any giggle that might have escaped her before opening his file to the adoption forms. J-Hope had told her the forms were in the files for her for sign for whoever she wanted straight away.

Taking the forms out she slid them across to Yoongi; “If you’re willing, I’ll sign them now and we can be back at my hotel in the next hour before my parents find out I’m missing.”

“They don’t know you’re here? Adopting me?” Yoongi’s eyes widened.

“I’m supposed to be in my hotel room in bed. Surprisingly, I’m not as fragile as they believe.”

“But your parents have to give permission for you to adopt right?” Yoongi couldn’t help to ask.

“I’m 24. I don’t need written permission to do anything.” Y/N spoke confidently.

“So why are your parents… ya know?” Yoongi had to ask.

“That is a story for another day.” Y/N looked at the large clock on the wall, she had spent 10 minutes with the first 3 hybrids each, now it was rounding out to be half an hour all together, she was just glad half the adoption was already underway, she just needed the hybrid now. “So, would you like to get out of here?”

“Will we be living with your parents?” Y/N could tell Yoongi had already decided to leave with her, he was simply scared it would seem.

“My grandparents left me their cottage in their will. We will be living on the opposite side of town to my parents.” Y/N nodded, thinking of the cottage she had moved into when she turned 21, even with her parents against it. “I will tell you now that the town I live in is kinda small, but it’s surrounded by forests and rivers and honestly… it’s peaceful.”

Yoongi seemed to think about something, considering all of his options. Even he could see he didn’t have many of them, none in which gave him the freedom to just live. If he ended up at a breeding facility he would regress and had the possibility of going savage. If he ran away, he could be captured or die on the streets or turned in by the HPA or even be killed by hybrid hate groups. But if he went with Y/N, maybe she’d let him be free too.

“You’re not some weird woman who sells her hybrids for sex or something right?” Yoongi smirked.

“Seriously, what is it with you and sex?” Y/N raised her arms in question with a small smile on her face.

“I just wanted to make sure you aren’t some crazy person,” Yoongi pushed the forms back across the table, sitting a pen on top of it. “I need to know who it is I’m going to be living with.”

Y/N signed the forms, quickly scribbling her signature on the bottom of the page before handing it to Yoongi to sign too. With both signatures on the form’s Y/N moved to the door, sticking her head out to see J-Hope sitting outside the door. He stood up quickly, fixing the purple shirt he wore with a hopeful smile on his face as Y/N handed the 4 files back to him.

“Oh… were none of them for you?” J-Hope looked almost sad.

“Just the one.” Y/N showed him her other hand with the adoption forms, signed.

PREV / NEXT

Tag List

@ariana-winchester95 | @haven-raven012591 | @gracehiii | @larenelizabeth | @legazix​ | @jiminot7​ | @narcissism-iskey​ | @aileanagreene | @marvelstuck​ | @sana-b​ | 

[luckyjak]

ficlet: time stop

cr2 e56 ficlet. Shadowgast but just barely. Essek meets the Mighty Nein in the Bright Queen’s hall just before they give her the Beacon, and they have no fucking idea thanks to time magic. Extra liberties taken with the Time Stop spell but I imagine choosing dunamancy as your specialty gives you a little more than 6 seconds.

“The Empire is working against you! Wildemont is working against you, we have brought the proof if you will allow me to show it to you,” the red haired human, dressed as a slave, pleaded with the Bright Queen. “I need to approach my friend. I mean no harm, I just need to remove something from--”

The room got quiet as the guard looked to the Queen, who nodded cautiously. “You have a moment. Anything strange, and I cut off your head,” One of the Queen’s guards threatened, his sword at the ready.

“Jester, I am coming towards you. I am just going to open this bag--”

There could be anything in that bag, Essek knew. An explosion. A spell. An artifact that could summon a magnificent demon whose sole desire was to eliminate the Queen. And with the Queen, the Council, so many others gathered here in the hall, it was the perfect opportunity for the Empire to strike and take a great deal of their most important people with them. Time was a luxury they did not have.

Or at least, that would be true, except that time was Essek’s specialty.

With a mere glance from the Bright Queen, Essek knew immediately what his orders were. Access the threat. Disarm them if needed.

A simple enough task, even if it did require him to burn his only 9th level cast for the day. It was worth it, however, to protect the Dynasty, and to protect his queen.

With a snap of his fingers and the command word spoken, time stopped in the Bright Queen’s throne room for everyone except Essek Thelyss. With the world frozen in place, Essek moved like a ghost down to investigate the strangers who stood perfectly still, frozen in time in his lady’s court.

Honestly, they were not the most impressive mercenaries to ever step foot in the hall. He investigated the human first--the other one, the blue one, not the one currently digging through a backpack, although he’d get to him in a moment--and found he wasn’t too concerned. She was no wizard, and she wore no armor, and almost no weapons outside of a few kunai and a stick. It wasn’t even a magic stick. He had no doubt she could do some damage with it--he knew enough to know the damage those trained in monastic traditions could do--but it was nothing the guards surrounding her couldn’t handle.

Next, he turned his attention to the half-orc, and came to a similar conclusion. He was a bard, Essek thought, or maybe a warlock of some kind? He wasn’t a sorcerer, although he was handsome enough to be one. But he didn’t have the spell components on him that most wizards and sorcerers did, and he lacked a holy symbol. He also didn’t have a weapon on him. So he must be a bard, then.

The blue tiefling was tricky--he thought she was a ranger at first, given the dog and the weasel she carried. Strange animal companions, but animal companions nonetheless. It took some searching, but he did find her holy symbol, hanging off her waist on her belt, although he didn’t recognize the emblem. He would move a few of the guards closer to her. The last thing they needed was an errant spellcaster on the loose.

The goblin carried a rather impressive crossbow, but like the monk, it was nothing the guards couldn’t handle. Honestly, in Essek’s opinion, the two biggest threats were the two quiet ones in the back--the aasimar and the firbolg were both armed with magical weapons and seemed at least capable of a good fight. Luckily, they were also the ones who were surrounded by the largest number of guards, so Essek felt good about their chances.

Which left only the other human. The one with his hands in the backpack, pulling something out.

“Let’s see what you are hiding then, shall we?” Essek said to no one in particular, the room still frozen around him.

He was filthy; dressed and bound like a slave, with dirt and mud caked on his face and his clothing. It would be easy to underestimate him, and Essek wondered if that wasn’t part of the act: pretend to be helpless, pretend to be useless, and then no one would see the knife headed for your back. It was a clever ruse, one Essek had used himself when he needed to. But despite the dirt and the raggedy clothing, Essek would even go so far as to describe the human as handsome--beneath the layer of filth there were piercing blue eyes, a rugged jaw, copper colored hair. Standing before the Bright Queen, he was a curious juxtaposition: a madman or a prophet, something holy and sacred and crazed, all at the same time. There was something wild and almost faelike about the man: the brown flecks of darkened skin on his cheeks, the arcane scars that ran down his arms...the half-orc man had been handsome, yes, but this man was different. This man was a curiosity, and Essek? 

Well, he loved a good mystery.

It didn’t take him long to find the spell book, and the spell components. The spellbook wouldn’t open, of course, a simple protection any wizard worth their salt would do, so Essek had no way of knowing just what the wizard knew, but at least now he knew what the man was. Like him, in a way, but his opposite: the man was born and bred of the Empire and their kin, while Essek was a loyal servant of the Dynasty. In a different life, they’d have met on the battlefield. Hell, depending on what the man was holding on to, they still might.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill him. But that all depended on what was in the bag.

Which was--

Oh.

It was a Beacon. Not just any beacon--one of the Luxon’s beacon, the body of the god Essek worshiped. And it was here, in Rosana, in a bright pink backpack, of all things! Being carried by humans!

What were their plans with it? Were they going to give it up? Threaten to destroy it? Did they, too, worship the Luxon, and if so, had they traveled here to deliver it? If so, why not start with that, instead of gaining the trust of Den Mother Olios first? And if they didn’t worship the Luxon, then did they have any idea just what it was, exactly, that they held?

“Congratulations,” Essek whispered in the wizard’s ear. This close, the man smelled of smoke and sweat; earthy and warm and slightly alluring. He would not remember what Essek said--no one ever did. It was the flaw of stopping time: when time resumed, it would be as if Essek hadn’t moved at all. “You just became the most fascinating man in the Dynasty.”

He would have to keep a close eye on the group at large; perhaps, if the next few moments went well, he’d volunteer to watch them for his queen. But in particular, he needed to watch the red haired wizard

As the last few seconds of his spell began to fade, Essek made his way back to the Bright Queen’s side, and watched as hesitant curiosity gave way to awe--like everyone around him--at what the group known as the Mighty Nein would do next.