#i had like ZERO free time on the last week and its still very rushed but i wanna post it

[derww]

Crowns/Swords | Midmysticx&/Kaboodle

Mid is not a warrior in the full sense, but she has been here too long for this not to change her. She's not a warrior in the full sense, but she still picked up a sword and fought because that's what this world was about. 

And in the end she managed to become – not dangerous, just a builder, just a quest maker – but she never forgot how to hold a sword and shield and how to defend herself and how to attack and how to kill. She had zero kills in statistics, but it never changed anything.

She stays on spawn for a long time, just building, and building, and building, and building. And most people are just letting her be! New members – because she is a builder, someone absolutely harmless, someone they have no excuse to kill, and veterans – as someone they have known for too long, with whom they fought side by side, out of respect familiar to those who were in this world for far too long.

And – despite the fact that she builds and needs as many inventory slots as possible, she never puts the sword away. It is personally forged by Clown, a welcome back gift and a reminder of their connection. A lightweight bastard sword, shimmering purple, curving inwards, and topped with black decorative patterns. A harmless toy but a deadly weapon, because there was no thing created by Clown that was not invented for killing. She happily accepted the gift, hugged Clown, and then waved and shouted after him for a long time. She wasn't going to fight anyone, but she always had the sword with her anyway, and no one even dared to think about taking it away.

It's a quiet life. She doesn't have to think about much. There are enough things in her secret base under spawn to keep her fed and clothed, and wool and concrete farms supply all the necessary materials. People drop in to see her – just to say hello, just to find out how she is, just to share the news, just to chat – but they don't stay long, flying past the fish stuck in the current, returning to the deaths and murders. 

And then the spawn turns out to be blown up – this is how people talk about it, and Mid, remembering the wastelands of previous seasons, looks at the destruction with a smile – and the seasonal winds bring Kaboodle to spawn like a nimble lyretail. She, like surprisingly many people lately, calls herself a pacifist. Zam hands Kaboodle a task, and she accepts it as an order.

This is what distinguishes the two of them significantly: Mid could stop fighting, but she never called herself a pacifist. She had nothing against murder and violence; she just had more interesting things to do. If she had to fight, she fought, and if she lost, she died. It was a part of the server – but Kab, it seemed to her, would definitely have called herself a pacifist just to save herself. Not that Mid blamed her for that, of course. There was nothing terrible about wanting to live.

Kab stays on spawn for a long time, repairing destroyed buildings, and Mid is here all day anyway, so they see each other over and over again even without much desire – they fly past, exchange greetings, collide foreheads. Mid pranks her a couple of times, Kab gets scared and laughs and builds equanimity, and they jokingly chat for a long time, starting laughing and shoving every now and then. They may not know each other too well, but their vibes fit each other. Mid shares build materials with her. Kab gives her a fragrant armful of black lilacs. Mid hits her on the top of the head and screams and laughs for a long time. She leaves lilacs in a vase at home and takes care of them.

Kab calls herself a pacifist, but she continues to carry a sword. This is Staboodle, one of its many versions, and even without knowing the history, Mid could still easily guess who forged this sword for her. In the style of Clown's weapons, there was that simultaneous precision but also sophistication that was not inherent to anyone else on the server, and blue lines on the staboodle were forming into graceful waves that diverged in the hilt. Mid had never seen the sword from the outside of its case, but she didn't need to.

It doesn't take her long to realize that Kab is not really a pacifist – not that she doesn't adhere to pacifist principles, because it was obvious from the very beginning, but that she doesn't kill just for her own purposes. Mid is perceptive in her own way, but that doesn't change anything. There was no innocent person on the Lifesteal, and even if there were, Mid wouldn't be interested in them, and Kab was funny. 

Once upon a time, an infinity ago, Mid was a queen. But the further she went forward, without aging or changing, the further she found herself from humanity, until the only thing she could carry was her own knowledge. She was a queen, even if her kingdom continued to live without her for many centuries, independently deciding its own fate, and, even if her power could be called rather symbolic, she never lost her title. And if she remained the queen, then there could be a beautiful consort in the kingdom, right? She had never put a crown on someone else's head before, but she was excited even by the prospect.

She's not stupid, but she's definitely inspired by the idea. There is naivety in this, but she likes to just... not pay attention. She talks to Kab, and she laughs, and they walk around the spawn that is being destroyed and restored over and over again – a ghostly image on a ghostly image, like there is at least a moment for a simple walk and smile at each other, and something about it gives Mid faith that there is still a salvation.

And she should understand cycles, she should see their flows and patterns in the fabric of reality, but for some reason she doesn't – and that's solely why the moment where Kaboodle threatens to kill her turns out to be so sudden. Glass waves on the Staboodle are merged into a crushing tsunami at the tip of the blade. Stained with Planet's blood, the glass blade turned almost black, and Mid gives Kab her – haha! – heart, because she has no choice. It is also quite expected that after that she demands Mane to cleave Kab's head off in return.

[thedeathdeelers]

just a little bit of magic (you know the rest by heart) ✨

my take on a Juke HP AU for the lovely Taryn @pink-flame on her birthday 🥰🎂 may you have an amazing day/week/month/year, you wonderful human being.

hope you like it!

----

Luke eagerly pulls Julie along as they walk down several corridors, up moving staircases and through low hanging archways. The deeper they walked into the castle, the quieter it got.

He had been jittery all morning, too impatient to pay attention in any of his classes as he counted down the hours and minutes until he was free to find Julie and drag her to his surprise. He’d lost his house countless of house points, his leg bouncing and his mind wandering whenever any of his professors called on him in class.

Alex had tried to help a few times whispering the right answers to him, but unfortunately nothing could help Luke when he got in one of these moods. He was just too excited.

Julie trips on her feet behind him, a reminder that her legs were shorter than his. He shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present as he focuses on the girl next to him. Luke slows down his pace, squeezing Julie’s hand once in apology as he gives her a few seconds to regain her balance.

The last thing he wanted to do was mess this up by having her trip and fall right before his big reveal.

Alex had already nearly blown the entire thing when they had passed him on the fifth floor coming out of the prefects’ bathrooms, forcing Luke to very loudly and purposefully talk over him to stop Julie from hearing anything. When he had realised his mistake, Alex had quickly gone quiet, his features morphing into a sheepish expression as he waved at them, walking away and back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“Luuuuuke, where are you taking me?" His lips twitch at her whine, finding it to be very endearing. "It’s nearly past curfew and as Prefect I really can’t afford to be caught sneaking around by Harrison again.” He sees her look down at her outfit from the corner of his eye, a look of frustrated confusion taking over her face. "Also why did you tell me to change into my normal clothes under my robe?"

Luke snorts at her words, hopping onto the stairs leading them towards the seventh floor, Julie quickly following suit as the staircase starts moving.

“First of all, Harrison absolutely loves you — she'd probably thank you for being you and then very politely ask you to head back to your tower, and then turn right around and give me 3 months’ worth of detention in the same breath.” He turns his head towards her, throwing her his signature grin. “You’ll be fine. And second of all, you ask too many questions. We’re nearly there -- be patient Young Padawan."

"Young-" She shakes her head, cutting herself off, the muggle reference clicking. Luke grimaces at his choice of words, thinking might be spending a little too much time around Reggie lately. "And where is there, exactly?"

Luke tries very hard not to take the stairs two steps at a time.

"Nuh-uh, I already told you - it's a surprise."

He smiles at the disgruntled noise she makes, knowing just how impatient Julie can be. He sneaks a look at her face from over his shoulder, nearly tripping over the stone steps when he sees a little pout on her lips.

At his fumble, a smirk replaces the pout, her voice coming out cockier than usual. "You good there, Patterson?"

Luke whips his head back around, his eyes flying to his feet and staying fixed on the steps in front of him.

"Yeah," he clears his throat before continuing, "yeah, I'm fine. We're uh- we're nearly there."

"It's what you keep telling me," is her teasing, sing-song reply, her mood apparently shifting at his fumble.

Luke keeps his eyes forward, hoping Julie can't see his reddened cheeks as they reach the seventh floor landing. He stops for a second to let her catch her breath before pulling her along with him again, taking the first left corridor they come across to head towards the Troll tapestry.

He'd been taking this route so many times in the last few weeks, he could probably do this with his eyes closed. He had wanted everything to be perfect, practicing again and again until he was sure he had nailed the process.

Only the best for his Julie Molina.

Their steps echo as they make their way down the seldom used corridor, the flickering lights from the torches casting long shadows on the stone floor ahead of them.

"Merlin, this castle is so creepy sometimes," mutters Julie to his left, shivering slightly as her hand tightens its hold on his.

Luke squeezes back, his eyes zeroing in on the tapestry up ahead. His heart starts to beat faster, the excitement reaching an all-time high, only slightly tainted by the nerves that fought to make their presence known.

Taking a deep breath, Luke slowly lets it out as they reach their destination, stopping and turning to face the large tapestry.

Julie stands next to him, confused as she takes in the scene before her - a group of Trolls in tutus attempting to learn the ballet. He watches her as she follows their movements, zeroing in on Barnabas the Barmy as he attempts to direct the Trolls to his left, while the ones on the right pull out their clubs ready to hit him over the head.

Luke loses focus for a second, too taken by Julie - by her furrowed brows, her scrunched up nose as she leans forward to inspect the design on the tutus, and especially by the way her lips twist before her bottom lip slips between her teeth.

He's only shaken out of his daze, his eyes flying up and away from her lips, when she suddenly turns to him with a quizzical look on her face.

"Is this the Barnabas the Barmy Tapestry? Why are we- wait..." She turns her head back towards the Tapestry, taking in the scene with new eyes. "I remember reading about this in Hogwarts: A History years ago...It was the chapter about the many hidden magical rooms in Hogwarts and..." She trails off as she looks at him, her eyes widening. She lets go of his hand, slowly turning in place to face the wall behind them - the one right across from the Tapestry.

"Wait....Isn't this-"

Luke rushes to cut her off, quickly turning around and stepping up in front of her to block her view of the wall, in a hurry to derail her train of thought.

"Okay! So, if you could stand right," he places his hands on either side of her waist, pulling her forward as he walks backwards, positioning her right in the middle of the corridor. "Here."

His hands don't move once she's in place, his fingers brushing against smooth warmth right where a sliver of skin peaks out between her t-shirt and the top of her jeans. He had somehow slid his hands under her open robes without even realising it.

His eyes fly up to meet hers, already wide and staring. They stand there in the quiet space, both locked in each others' gazes, neither one of them daring to move. Within seconds Luke can already feel the now familiar thrum of electricity that always crackled whenever they were both together. Only this time it felt even more surreal.

If he could, Luke thinks he could stay this way for the rest of the night, of the school year, but he brought her here for a reason, so he loudly clears his throat, effectively breaking some of the tension that had built between them. He lets his hands slip away from her waist as he takes a step back, his fingers still tingling from the contact.

"So just...yeah just stay there for a few seconds, while I..." He trails off as he looks away, turning around to face the bare wall in front of them and trying very hard to refocus on the task at hand.

He closes his eyes, clearing his mind until all he has left is the image of the room he wants to recreate.

Taking a deep breath, he pivots on his right foot and faces the direction they had just come from. He takes a few steps forward then abruptly turns back around and walks back down the corridor, making sure to keep his focus. He stops again once he reaches the edge of the Tapestry, turning back around and repeating the process until he starts hearing the sound of crumbling walls that always preceded the emergence of a large wooden door, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

Luke opens his eyes to take in the transformation in front of him, only turning to look at Julie when he hears her surprised gasp.

"Luke-" she's cut off by the increasing creaking sound of the door hinges slotting into place, the loud grating out of place on the deserted floor - until suddenly - everything stops. A deafening silence follows, only broken by the crackling of the torches nearby.

Coughing quietly to get her attention, Luke speaks up.

"So...Reggie told us about this room he read about a few weeks ago when we were trying to find a new rehearsal space to use, since, you know, Covington kicked us out of the fifth floor classrooms 'cause he obviously has no taste whatsoever when it comes to real music and loves making everyone miserable, especially Hufflepuffs and-" Luke cuts himself off when he realises he's rambling, rubbing the back of his neck before clearing his throat to continue.

"Yeah well, I asked around to check if this place actually existed and then Willie, you know how Willie likes to listen to us play - although honestly I think he just likes to hang out so he can watch Alex - but anyway, what I'm trying to say is that one of the ghosts from down by the dungeons owed Willie a favour so....ta-da," he finishes lamely, his arms coming up to point towards the door in front of them while wiggling his fingers.

It's quiet for a few seconds, Julie presumably taking it all in.

"You- you found the Room of Requirement?" She asks quietly, sounding almost awed.

"I mean- I had a lot of help from the guys and then Willie and the Bloody-"

"You found it," she cuts him off, her fingers reaching forward as she moves close enough to touch the door.

Luke scratches the back of his head, suddenly feeling shy in her presence.

"Uh, yeah, I guess I did."

He keeps his eyes on her, tracking her movements as she traces the patterns on the door, following the curving decorative loops down the length of the doorframe until her fingers wrap around the protruding metal handle.

"Luke, this is incredible."

The tone of her voice makes his cheeks grow warmer.

"Nah it's nothing," he tries to brush it off, shuffling on his feet, glad that she is too preoccupied with the door to see his continuously reddening cheeks.

She turns to him then, her hand still latching onto the handle.

"It's not nothing! There's a literal betting pool over at Ravenclaw tower to see who can find this place first, and so far no one's done it..." She shakes her head at him, a smile making its way onto her lips. "But you did."

Luke scuffs his shoe against the stone flooring, not sure what to do with himself. He's always been awkward with compliments, especially when they came from Julie.

Apparently Julie eventually takes pity on him, speaking up again.

"So Patterson, what am I going to find behind this door? A record store? That dodgy hot dog place you told me about? I saw you pacing back and forth three times in front of it, so I'm assuming you already have something or somewhere in mind."

She quirks a brow at him, her eyes shining bright with curiosity.

"Yes! That's actually why I brought you here," he chooses to ignore her little digs as he bounces closer to the door, coming to stand right next to her. "So I remember you saying at the start of the year how you've been struggling with music and...y'know...because no matter where you went you just never felt comfortable enough? And then I remembered the studio you always talked about, the one where your mom taught you everything you knew..."

He watches as her expression slowly morphs, her eyes getting wider and her lips parting ever so slightly.

"I asked Flynn to show me if you had any photos of the space and well..." Luke wraps his fingers around the metal chain hanging off his jeans underneath his robe, squeezing tight to keep himself from fidgeting.

Julie continues to stare at him, her expression frozen on her face. It only made him more restless.

Shit, did he take it too far? Was this not what friends did for each other? Sure he had been in love with Julie for years now, but he's been trying really hard to keep it strictly friendly between them, not wanting to ruin anything, especially after having lost her mom.

And Luke likes to think this is definitely something he would have done for either Reggie or Alex.

But maybe her studio back home was something too personal to her? Maybe she wasn't ready?

"Oh Merlin Julie if this is out of line we can just forget this whole thing happened and-"

Suddenly Luke is cut off by a small bundle of limbs and soft curves throwing themselves at him. His arms reach up reflexively, wrapping them around her, his hands coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Thank you," she says, or so he thinks, being the only words he can barely make out, muffled as they are against his t-shirt.

"Of course Julie." He moves his hands up and down her back, a gesture he knows is comforting to her.

The arms wrapped around his neck tighten for a second before she releases him, taking a small step back and wiping at her face with the sleeve of her robe.

He takes in her face, her expression so vulnerable, unsure about what to do next. But then a small smile appears as she nods at his unanswered question. He reciprocates, nodding back with a smile of his own.

He gestures towards the door. "So, want to do the honours?"

He watches as she nods again, taking in a deep breath before turning to face the door once more. With slightly shaking hands, Julie reaches over and wraps her fingers around the handle, twisting it before pushing. The heavy wooden door creaks at the movement, slowly swinging open until they were both standing on the threshold of a brightly lit garage-turned studio space.

Luke only takes a second to check that everything inside is as it should be, before turning back around to look at Julie.

Her eyes widen at the scene that welcomes her, the steps she takes as she crosses over into the space small and tentative. Luke slips in right behind her, taking her hand off the handle before easing the door shut behind them. He keeps her hand in his as she looks around the space, her fingers brushing over everything within her reach - from the throw covering the armchair that greets them on the right, to the trinkets covering the corner shelves on their left. As they gradually move into the studio, the sound of their footsteps alternating from loud to muffled as they cross over the various rugs decorating the space, Julie’s eyes move upwards, her attention momentarily shifting to the ceiling. Luke follows her gaze to see the three hanging chairs he’d debated leaving out, glad to have included now that he sees a wistful smile take place on Julie’s face.

With the late afternoon Californian sunlight streaming in through the windows, the studio almost looks magical, a warm golden glow enveloping the space. Julie’s gaze comes back down as she pulls Luke along with her further into the studio, walking around the baby grand piano, her finger lightly trailing its side, to stand in front of the wall of plants nestled against the glass back wall.

"My mom..." Julie starts, breaking the silence before trailing off as she reaches over to touch the leaves hanging closest to her. "She always said that plants were sacred. She used to tell me and Carlos all these stories about these spirits that lived in each and every single plant on Earth, protecting those who cared for them. Nurturing all those who treated them with love and kindness and respect." Luke takes in the sight of the green foliage, noting how beautiful it looked. "Said tjat our loved ones’ spirits somehow lived in the very roots of these plants.

“Our house has these pots and vases full of flowers and all sorts of plants all over the place - even our garden looks like a jungle!" She lets out a watery laugh, sniffling as she gets on her tiptoes as if on instinct to pull down a green watering pot resting on a shelf above them.

Luke, seeing what Julie wants to do, hurries to pull out his wand from his back-pocket, muttering a quick Aguamenti as he taps the watering pot. Julie shoots him a grateful smile before she starts watering the plants one by one, Luke tucking his wand away into his robe pocket.

“We used to take turns, each of us spending a few minutes or hours watering and pruning every single plant in the house and in here - but my mom was always there anyway, singing to us, to the plants. Keeping us company.” Julie leans forward as she tries to reach the back row. "But when she...when she wasn't around anymore, I- I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to think about her plants or her music or her stories — let alone come in here where everything about this place reminded me of her." Luke gently rubs the back of her hand with his thumb, not wanting to cut her off, but still finding a small way to try and comfort her.

"I guess my dad took care of everything last summer..." Julie trails off as she finishes watering the remaining hanging plants, before placing the watering pot back in its place.

She turns to him, a peaceful smile lighting up her face. "I forgot how soothing it felt to do that. Thank you."

Luke's smile widens at her words, nodding at her in response.

She keeps her eyes locked on his for a few more seconds before averting her gaze, turning back around to face the piano they had walked past earlier.

Julie lets go of his hand as she slowly makes her way towards the instrument, only stopping when she reaches the bench. Luke takes note of her hesitancy to touch the piano, only to then take a deep breath and slip onto the bench, fingers poised over the fall-board.

He slowly walks up behind her, squeezing her shoulder once before moving away.

"Julie, if you need some space or want me to go I can just-"

Her eyes, which had slid shut, pop open at his words as she cuts him off before he can even finish his sentence.

"No! No, this is- Stay. I want you here, really." She looks at him with so much open trust and something else he can't quite place, that Luke doesn’t really know what to say. So instead he just nods at her, pointing at the black couch behind him.

"I'm uh- I'll just go sit there? Give you a few minutes to yourself, yeah?"

At her nod, he takes a step backwards before spinning around on the spot, his shoe squeaking against the wood flooring, jumping over the coffee table and landing on the old weathered couch cushions.

He hears a little giggle behind him, his head whipping up in time to find Julie attempting, and failing, to smother the sound. His pokes his tongue out at her in response even as warmth blooms in his chest at the sound of her laughter.

She shakes her head at him before averting her eyes and focusing the piano before her, slowing reaching out to lift the fall-board.

He can see the anticipation and fear and love and grief and happiness swirling in her eyes, noticed the way her fingers shake as they hover over the keys. His own fingers dig into his knees, forcing himself to stay still, to stay quiet, as he witnesses a moment that truly is monumental for Julie.

He watches her as she takes another deep breath, squaring her shoulders as if ready for battle. She nods to herself once right before her fingers land on the keys, music instantly filling every corner of the studio, every corner of his soul.

Luke has always been sensitive to music - he thinks that's why he's always been good at picking up new instruments so quickly, at finding the right words and melodies and blending them together to create something new and exciting. But the feeling that courses through him as he listens to Julie singing takes him completely by surprise. It's like a physical punching him in the gut, squeezing his heart and taking his breath away all at once. He sits there, stunned, as he listens to Julie inadvertently command his full attention, singing her heart out.

He thinks it must be an original, because he doesn’t recognise it at all.

Her face goes through a rollercoaster of emotions, pain leaking through as she makes her way through the first pre-chorus.

And you use your pain,

‘Cause it makes you you,

Thought I wish I could hold you through it

I know it’s not the same

You got living to do

And I just want you to do it

But then just as she reaches the end, gearing up for what feels like the chorus, Luke sees determination take its place.

So get up, get out, relight that spark,

You know the rest by heart

Julie dives into the chorus, full of energy and hope, another one of her many smiles suddenly changing the tone of the song.

She makes her way through the second verse, pre-chorus and chorus in the same vain, the energy around her building and building, Luke’s heart beat matching it.

The song reaches its crescendo, her voice climbing as it builds on every note it hits, Julie getting to her feet, spreading her arms wide as she gets to the high note. A look of peaceful acceptance crosses her face before she eases the songs to it’s final chorus, settling back down onto the bench, singing and playing softly as the song comes to an end, the last two words ringing in the quiet studio.

Wake up

All Luke can do is stare with his mouth hanging open as Julie lowers her hands onto her lap, her eyes closed, chest heaving. He had always known that Julie was a powerhouse, always known that music coursed through her veins right along her magic, but he had never heard her sing the way she just had. Not with the full force of her voice as so many raw emotions filtered through.

It left him reeling. He needed to catch his breath.

If he wasn't already in love with her, he knows he'd be head over heels for her after what he had just witnessed.

He's pulled out of his daze when Julie moves, her eyes open as she stands up and steps away from the bench, slowly moving towards him.

Luke scrambles to shuffle down the sofa making space for her to sit, only to be surprised when she chooses to sit on his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as she burrows her face in his neck.

It takes him a few seconds to react, his body frozen and unable to process.

"I know I keep saying this but....thank you," she whispers, voice unstable, her lips sending shivers down his spine as they brush against the skin of his neck.

The movement snaps him out of his stupor, his arms coming up to fully wrap around her, pulling her closer to his chest as he leans back against the couch cushions.

"I told you," he says, resting his chin over her head of curls, "anything for you, Julie."

Her fingers curls into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling herself closer to him at his words.

They stay that way for a while, Julie’s breathing eventually easing into a calm rhythm.

Luke stays quiet, understanding her need to absorb everything she had just gone through, happy to just hold her in his arms. When she does break the silence, her voice comes out a little more composed.

"I- that was a song my mom wrote for me before she- when she found out..." Her whisper trails off into silence, the pain in her voice squeezing at his heart.

Luke tightens his arms around her.

"You don't have to explain it to me, Jules, it's okay."

"No I- I want to."

Luke relents, nodding at her words as he patiently waits for her to continue.

"I found the song right before leaving home back in September, and when I saw it...it just hurt too much. I couldn't even get past the title." She releases her grip on his shirt only to start tracing random patterns on his arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

“I packed it up and brought it with me thinking I’d be able to read it once settled in my dorm, a space my mom’s never been in but — it took me months to even take it out again, and then a few more months after that just to read through the whole thing. That first time I was a mess," she laughs, a small quiet sound. "Flynn was so close to dragging me to Madam Pomfrey but I managed to convince her I was okay-ish. And then after that it slowly started becoming a little easier every time I read through it until one day I just knew the full song by heart." She stops talking for a few minutes, lost in her own thoughts as she continues her ministrations on his arm. "But even then I still couldn't get myself to sing it, I was always so scared that once I did, it meant that my mom really was gone, that the last piece I had connecting me to her was over and I couldn't bear it..."

Luke's heart drops at her words, an apology ready on the tip of his tongue.

"But the minute I walked into our studio again, this studio, after watering those plants and being able to share all of her stories about spirits and magic and life always being around even after death with you, it just...clicked." She lifts her head up from her hiding place, finally locking eyes with him. "I carry her with me, in everything I do. And I know that I would have eventually figured this out myself, probably once I went back home over the summer, maybe, but..." Julie places her hand against his cheek, her fingers warm against his skin. "It wouldn't have been the same, and I- well, thank you. Again." She tilts her head, looking at him from under her lashes with a smile so radiant on her face, all he can do is nod, turning his head to press a kiss against the palm of her hand.

He feels her fingers twitch against his face, a hitch in her breathing as he looks back up at her.

He finds her looking at him, eyes wide and open, looking both tired and fully awake with dried tear tracks down her cheeks, her bun falling apart with loose curls bending at weird angles from a long day of classes, but all he can think is how beautiful she is. How much he loves her and everything she is, and he tries to hard to stop himself but-

"I love you.”

The words spill out, unable and unwilling to stay locked up anymore. His own eyes widen at his confession, regret flooding in the second he says it.

"I- I- I," he tries to backtrack, to fill the silence, anything, but now that the words are out in the open, his brain and mouth seem to have detached, neither one wanting to cooperate with the other.

Julie stares at him, her eyes somehow growing larger, her mouth forming into the shape of an "o".

“Oh.”

Luke braces himself for her rejection, prepares himself to feel the cold air rush in the minute she moves off of his lap.

But instead, Julie brings up her other hand to fully cup his face, her mouth stretching out into a full blown grin.

"You love me?" she asks, breathless.

Luke, too stunned to do anything else, simply nods at her question.

“You love me," she repeats, this time more of a statement than a question.

She surprises again him by laughing, a lovely melodious sound that pulls the laughter out of him, joining her in her mirth as he chuckles quietly along in his confusion.

"I'm sorry I'm not- I'm not laughing at you," she tries to get out between laughs, her smile still present on her face. "I'm just in disbelief, I-" She shakes her head, laughter quietening down as her thumbs swipe along his cheekbones.

"I love you too."

Those four words take him by surprise, affecting him in a way even her singing hadn’t, his mind spinning, heart racing, entire being vibrating.

Julie Molina loved him.

She loved him too.

He takes his time to commit this moment, her face, the feel of her weight on his lap and the warmth of her hands against his cheeks, to memory. His eyes roam her face, taking in every detail, before they finally land on her smiling lips.

He briefly thinks back to all the moments he had wished he could kiss her, taste her smile and her joy and happiness - and share in that glow that always seemed to be uniquely hers.

He now smiles at that thought, thinking that maybe he might actually be able to experience the one thing he had always craved but thought was off-limits.

Lifting his eyes back up to meet her, Luke leans slightly forward, in askance, in invitation. When she reciprocates his movements, Luke brings both his hands up from behind her back, cupping her face as he pulls her closer to him, ending years’ worth of pining.

That night was the first time of many that Luke Patterson was given the privilege of tasting Julie Molina's smile.

fin

[mediocre--writing]

Hello again from the anon who sent the first ask about childhood friends Billy crushing on Steve and venting to his mother. You wrote it amazingly, by the way. I would love to see Steve chasing after Billy in the next part, rather than the other way around. Maybe he doesn’t understand why Billy’s been distant and he misses him. I’m not sure if the timeline is accurate but it could be around the time Steve suspects her of having something with Jonathan so he feels very alone and sad and misses his best friend and Billy wants to cry all over again.

part 1 2

billy wakes up the next morning with the weight of his worries pressing into his chest. in comparison, the weight of his secret has been carefully lifted off his shoulders by his mother and was being kept and cradled with the upmost care.

he was left with a list of chores sitting on the dining table and another note reminding him to pick up his extra work from the school.

before even looking a the list of chores, billy did the bare minimum to make himself look ready enough for the day and made his way to the school.

getting his assignments for his last four periods was easy, they were sitting with the receptionist in a little red folder, but his first period, mrs. kelman, hadn’t given hers in yet.

the secretary, being the lazy ass she is, just waved billy through to go to her room and grab the assignments.

her room, of course, was one of the farthest points from the front entrance of the school, so billy power walked most of the way there, wanting to get out of there before he saw someone—a specific someone—and they started asking questions.

knocking on the door once he’d reached it, mrs. kelman came to answer it, muttering something about him being a heathen and a pain in her ass, but billy didn’t care.

because how could he be so dumb? really, you’re friends with a guy your entire life and forget you share the same first period? and you couldn’t wait another thirty minutes to get your assignments?

god, billy wants to shove his finger in the pencil sharpener.

“you’ve got a book?”

billy is staring out the windows of the back of the classroom when he hears mrs. kelman clear her throat, “do you have your book at home?”

with a small cough, billy assures her his copy of the book is at his house. she proceeds to explain the worksheets in detail while handing him, not one, not two, not three, but four packets of work pages he needs to complete ‘by tuesday, if not, i don’t care what you did do, it’s all a zero.’ psycho bitch.

billy, red folder and packets in hand, practically struts out of the classroom before she can come up with any more work to give him.

he’s not yet half way down the hallway when he hears shoes squeaking behind him, his name being called in a voice he really wants to ignore.

“billy, dude, you didn’t answer my calls last night,”

“went to bed early,” billy responded, not caring to turn around or stop walking. nevertheless, steve caught up to him, rushing to block billy’s path.

“well then, talk to me now, what happened yesterday? you haven’t been the same recently, i’m worried,” steve practically begs billy as they finally stop in the hallway.

“i have chores and about fifty pages of work i need to get started on, steve, so if you don’t mind...” billy stepped to walk away but steve grabbed his elbow.

billy’s packets and papers went down to the floor. “ok, i’m sorry about that, but why won’t you talk to me? and what’s with full naming me? you never call me ‘steve!’”

billy bent down to grab at the papers and shove them into his red folder, cradling them in his arms, “well, steve, sometimes people change and you may never know why. maybe they don’t fit in your life the way you thought they did, maybe you finally see the things the way you probably should have seen them all along,” billy scoffed, “have fun at the party tonight, steve,”

as billy walked off, steve felt sick to his stomach. billy was sarcastic and dry most of the time, but never to steve. with steve, there was never the underlying tone of annoyance there was at school and billy never rushed to get away from anyone, at least not this desperately.

steve was off for the rest of the day. it was hard not to notice the constant fidgeting and how he’d stare off into space in gym, the only class he really liked or actively participated in.

by the end of the day, his fifth period (a class he shared with nancy) steve was completely shut down.

wasn’t listening to the teacher or responding to either nancy or tommy’s attempts at getting his attention. he was just thinking about billy. about what he said. how he said it.

that emphasis on how people ‘don’t fit in your life’ and how angry billy was while saying it. how honest the words sounded coming out of his mouth, like he spoke with his entire chest and wanted steve to hear every single word for what it was.

but steve was never good at dissecting literature and hidden meanings, all he knew was what’s at face value.

and billy’s speech at face value was just a message that billy no longer wanted steve in his life. that he had moved on to bigger, better things.

but this, this felt like something his english teacher would scold him for not seeing the depth to.

and steve worried. worried his way through the rest of the day and into the next. worried all through the friday night party and the weekend. worried the monday billy was still suspended.

worried the entire week while billy was back. while billy still wasn’t talking to him or acknowledging him or even fucking looking at him.

steve had thrown himself into nancy that week, been driving her to school and home every day and had taken her on a date twice on school nights.

both times, without realizing, they’d ended up at the diner billy’s mom worked, the one billy would bus tables for in his free time to make a little extra money.

the first day, a tuesday, they’d been served by the diner lady herself, and steve had chatted like they were old friends.

neither mentioned billy, who was clearly seen in the window to the kitchen cleaning dishes.

the second day, a thursday, steve and nancy had come after the movies to get milkshakes. steve got vanilla and nancy got strawberry.

they didn’t see either billy nor his mom that day.

billy was working, though, steve knew because his unmistakable car was parked in its usual spot to the left corner of the building.

steve searched his entire brain, something he’d never done before, to figure out what billy meant.

he wanted to ask someone who knew more about literature than any teacher he’d ever had, but billy was the person he couldn’t ask for help this time.

steve never realized how much he depended on billy for everything. and he means everything.

date ideas for nancy. billy had the best spots.

how to keep nancy smiling. billy had the best pickup lines and corny jokes to make people smile.

keeping steve from not failing his classes. billy was the only person capable of getting through steve’s thick skull.

girl problems and regular teenage angst. billy always knew what people were feeling and how to react.

steve was so dependent on billy and he was absolutely crumbling without him there.

and nancy was frustrated. steve kept spacing out and ignoring her during dates. he wasn’t as charming as before and he was clingier than usual.

‘an absolute nuisance and is acting so desperate’ were her exact words.

this is what she told jonathan byers one night while they sat with their brothers and their friends at the diner after a long afternoon at the arcade.

this is what billy heard while busing tables behind them, unnoticed, before he opened his big mouth.

“done with that?” billy asked with a sickly sweet smile while pointing down at nancy’s empty milkshake glass.

as she made eye contact, her face burned bright red while she tried to control her facial features, “refill?” was the only thing she could squeak out.

billy kept the smile plastered on his face, “‘course!”

he made sure to spit in her stupid strawberry milkshake before he brought it to her.

“do that again and you won’t be working here anymore, boy,” the owner of the diner—benny—whispered to billy while holding onto his upper arm as he walked away from their table.

“yes, sir,” billy said, fake apologetically, because he grinned while walking back to the kitchen.

damn all the money in the world, nancy wheeler was a bitch and deserved her spit-shake.

billy had come to peace with the fact that steve was straight and in love with nancy.

really, steve couldn’t control who he liked.

ok so he was bitter as hell, but it didn’t stop him from being a decent person.

steve, on the other hand, was in the midst of a gay panic—not that he knew what that was. all steve knew was that he missed his billy—

wait when did ‘billy’ become ‘steve’s billy?’

and since when did steve think about billy more than he thought about his girlfriend? especially while he was alone in his house, laying on his bed.

he should be thinking about his girlfriend. his pretty, sweet, incredibly smart, charming, beautiful, blue-eyed—wait! not billy! think about your girlfriend, dumbass, not your best friend!

steve didn’t sleep that night. he stayed up thinking about billy.

about how it had been almost two weeks since he last hung out with billy and over a month since they’d last talked, like actually had a conversation. about how he didn’t even know what his girlfriend was doing this week, even though he knew she told him.

about how he needs to talk to billy.

he needs to figure out why he’s obsolete in billy’s life now. about why they drifted so quick it’s like something shoved a knife between their friendship.

and so, on that sunday morning, while most of hawkins would be out for church, steve drove over to billy’s house, knocking on the door of people who didn’t wake until noon most sundays.

“oh my god,” steve groaned to himself, knocking harder, “open your fucking door, people,”

the door swung open so fast it scared steve a little, almost knocking on a person—billy’s mom.

“hi,” steve gave an innocent smile, though he was met with a grumpy glare.

“why?” she asked desperately, “you know not to come before 12, 10 if it’s an emergency. it’s sunday, the day of rest, and here i am, not resting,”

“i need to talk to billy,”

“yeah,” she nodded, “see, he’s aware that it’s the day of rest, so he’s still sleeping,”

“i don’t care,” steve was stubborn.

she shrugged, “he punches you it’s not my problem. i’ll be resting so scream really loud if he kills you, the neighbors should hear and they’ll call someone for ‘ya,”

she winked at steve as she made her way back to her room, hoping to god that they’d either make up or make out, and she knew she probably wasn’t sleeping anytime soon. these were her boys she was thinking about, after all.

steve walked quick to billy’s door, turning the knob and moving to billy’s bed, sitting on the edge with his hands in his lap.

“i know you heard me knocking,”

“shhh...”

“billy,” steve groaned as he shifted to look at billy ‘sleeping.’

“he’s asleep. call again later,”

“you are your mother’s child,” steve snapped jokingly.

“well then she’s a smart lady. go away, steve,” billy pulled his pillow over his head.

“no,”

“—mmk,”

“talk to me, billy!”

“no,”

“why not?”

“he’s sleeping,”

“jesus christ!” steve stood up, pulling the pillow off of billy’s head and hitting him with it repeatedly. “get up and talk to me you brat!”

billy sat up after the second hit, but steve just kept going.

“what is wrong with you!?” billy put his hands over his head, pushing the covers off himself.

“me? what’s wrong with me!?” steve dropped the pillow to his side as he made crazy eyes at billy, “you’ve been ignoring me for the past, like, month!”

“no i have not!” billy pointed his finger at steve as a teacher would a student. “you have been the one attached at the fuckin hip with wheeler, so don’t you say that i’m the issue here!”

“i talked to you all the time!”

“about her!” billy stood so he could look steve in the eyes properly. “i don’t give a shit about her, steve! i really, really do not care about her in any way besides whatever concerns you! so i’m so sorry that i’m not very attentive on your hour long rants about how ‘nice and soft her hair is,’”

“don’t mock me!” steve exclaimed, insulted by billy’s bad impression of him.

“she’s a bitch!” billy yelled.

“don’t call her a bitch!”

“ok.” billy shrugged, “she’s a prissy bitch,”

“go fuck yourself,” steve complained, throwing his head back in annoyance.

“no!” billy yelled, taking a step foreward. “she talks about you behind your back. to byers. says you’re desperate and a nuisance. is that the same girl you’re so in love with, steve? huh!?”

steve’s face fell a little at the accusation and his eyes darted around billy’s room.

“liar,”

“when have i ever lied to you?”

steve was quiet.

billy, in a softer voice, “i’m not lying. i just don’t want you to be all in love and her not feel the same way, you’re not good together,”

steve had shuffled around to sit at billy’s desk. “wow thanks,”

“i’m serious,” billy’s face was kinder, not as harsh, “she’s already all grown up, and you’re not. it’s a good thing, steve. you’re happy and carefree and want to... go skydiving and she just wants to... play mahjong at the retirement home,”

steve cracked a smile but it fell just as quick, “she really said all that?”

“i spit in her milkshake and she drank the whole thing,” billy admitted, leaning against the desk next to steve’s legs.

steve smiled, “‘course you did,”

they sat quietly for a minute, taking in billy’s words and the consequences of them.

“i’ve been really worried about you,” steve admitted. “you ignored me for a week then got into a big fight, which you haven’t done since that one boy made fun of me freshman year, and then you didn’t even act like i was around. thought you hated me after what happened in the hall,”

“don’t hate you,” billy leaned closer to steve, knocking their shoulders together, “could never hate you. just... frustrated, i guess?”

“cause of nancy?”

billy shrugged, “yea—“

steve turned to look at him better, “something else, though,” he stared at billy for quite some time, “your dad didn’t call—“

“no!” billy shut down the idea, “no, it’s not him. he’s lone gone now,”

“then what?”

“it’s no—“

“it’s something,” steve insisted.

for as awful as steve was on his own, all alone with nancy or in school, for as bad as he was at reading people, billy was an open book to him. he knew every tell he had and could almost read his mind.

“no,”

“yes,” steve was stern.

“no, steve,”

“talk to me,” steve almost begged.

“no,”

“why do i love you?” steve whispered quietly to himself, making billy’s head shoot up before he remembered that he and steve had been saying ‘i love you’ since two weeks after they met.

“steve, you don’t need to worry about—“

“you?” steve guessed. “i don’t need to worry about you? how is that right when all you do is worry about me?”

“i don’t—“

“you do!” steve had a fire in his heart now, “even when you’re upset with me you’re still a good friend. you still look out for me and spit in my awful girlfriends milkshake while she talks crap about me!

“i don’t get why you do it, billy, because i don’t return it and i didn’t even realize until now!”

“you don’t have to,”

“but i should!” steve was pacing in the middle of billy’s bedroom, “i am the worst to you and you just don’t do anything about it! i love you. i love you so much but i’m such an ass to you and i can’t even—“

“i love you too, steve, we’re there for each other. always have been—“

“no,” steve’s eyebrows went up and he steadied his shaking hands. as he realized it for the first time, steve spoke, “no, i love you, billy,”

billy was frozen.

didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t dare even blink.

it was a dream, it had to be.

“i love you and i want to care about you more than i do. i’m a shitty person as is, but, i want to be there for you like you always have for me,”

“i love you, too,”

“why are you crying?” steve’s eyes widened as he saw the tear tracks down billy’s face, rushing over to wipe them away.

“‘m happy. they’re happy tears,” billy sniffled as he looked up at steve, “promise,”

and they kissed.

steve didn’t even think about nancy. billy didn’t think about the shadow under his door that was most definitely his mom listening in.

they ignored the way it was a really bad kiss, especially for two boys with such reputations that they have, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

billy enjoyed the way steve’s hands pushed his messy curls away from his face and steve enjoyed billy’s hands rubbing his lower back.

they didn’t have to think beyond that moment, didn’t have to worry about a single thing.

their only plans past that moment were for steve to break it off with nancy, then they’d go get chocolate milkshakes and eat cherry pie at the diner.

[paint-lady]

hey, if you don't mind, i want your advice: i'm going to be running a chronicle set in chicago (i am using the chicago by night 5e book) for players who are new to vampire for the most part in a few days and i can't For The Life of Me to come up with an interesting chronicle hook (yeah i have read the hooks in the book). any ideas/suggestions/general advice?

Hiya! I could talk your ears off on how I write my chronicles- so hopefully I have taken all my processes and reduced it down to a lovely World of Darkness jam. 

Here are two good hooks I just came up with- feel free to use them! The third is what I got for my first chronicle, and I just think its a narrative that works very well for new players.

>Option 1: Guilty Until Proven Innocent ”Chicago is a series of paradoxes and transitions, of ever changing paradigms and whimsy,” (CbN 47). Have your coterie be newbies to the city. Ask why they have come to Chicago. Power? A new start? Perhaps this is a political arrangement between the clan of one city with another. Whatever their reason, they have arrived right when a Primogen vanishes- and guess who is first on the suspect list? The fresh faces on the streets >:) The coterie, having barely settled, has to suddenly prove their innocence. And finding evidence lets them uncover something much more sinister....

This one is ideal for new players as it sets everyone on an equal footing. Even if they create a character that has been a vampire for 50+ years and has amassed several dots of influence, herd, status- whatever, they are still new to the city. And being new means you have to start all over again. (This may be frustrating to a player that invested all those points at character creation- but it is on you as the ST to make sure they have opportunities to use those dots and on them as a player to think cleverly.)

Starting the tale off with defending their innocence is actually a very engaging questline. It effectively sets the stage for the political powerhouses. It lets new players know there are rules- and those in power are watching. It also sets the consequences for failure. Understand that the Camarilla probably isnt going to outright kill the coterie if they fail- always make the punishment just harsh and grueling enough to make final death feel like a mercy. Failure isn’t the end of the story.

For new players- I would be lenient with the time it takes for them to find evidence. But within reason. Think like your Prince and Seneschal. Do you really want this coterie running around for a full week, unsupervised, making more messes? No. You don’t. (You might wanna send an npc with them to watch and keep em out of trouble. Your npc is also able to vouch for them.)

This story lends itself to be a Camarilla Chronicle very easily. You can go Anarch, but an Anarch leader suddenly vanishing and blaming the newbies is much more quickly going to end with blood spilled. Thank your local sweeper.

> Option 2: Containment Breach Blacksite 24 (Loresheet on page 264) was temporarily occupied by Operation Firstlight. It has now been transformed into a medical research facility. While most kindred of Chicago know of Blacksite 24, they have zero clue what happens inside other than bad news for them- the less they know the safer they are. The chronicle opens with a car crash. The captured soon-to-be coterie was in transit to this feared medical facility. The crash did kill the driver and the agent in charge of transporting them. The crash did not fully break their restraints, but it did enough damage that first responders are freaking out. They are all at hunger 3. The chronicle is a hunt. The coterie should have some knowledge of what had happened to them and how lucky they are to have escaped. Operatives are already on their way to recapture them. They must hide in this city- and do their best to survive and stay out of sight.

The point of this story is to invoke dread. I highly recommend one player either being a thin-blood (or an npc) with the Daydrinker merit, or a player to have a ghoul. If they decide to not have a daywatch, they increase their chance of being found.

This story also sets up a feeling of desperation. They would be willing to take shelter from anyone- anyone. Eventually the other kindred will catch on that these guys are on the run from something. Any sane kindred would toss them out to protect themselves. A compassionate kindred who takes them in will suffer the final death as a compassionate fool- or join them in captivity. 

This story lends itself to be an Anarch Chronicle much more easily. This is the time the Camarilla will likely be a bit more paranoid and bloody. While they might not outright kill the coterie- they will send them somewhere that is a death trap. They wont dirty their hands with this. After all, you do not want any evidence to fall into the hands of the SI if you hired the hit.

This story is ideal for newbies without background merits. No allies, no influence, no herd. Let them take more mythic merits such as bloodhound and unbondable (Consider finding some from V20 too! There are some really awesome supernatural merits!). These powers would certainly be more fascinating for a medical team to study- not how many instagram followers they have. This kind of story also lets your players feel more powerful- but out of the loop. It lends itself to them forging alliances and getting caught in one-sided favors a lot more quickly. 

The challenging aspect of this story is that is starts with a masquerade breach. New players may not know how to handle such a blatant breach and thats okay. I would let the crash slide- and the Camarilla in the background handles it. Breaches after the crash need to be handled with proper consequences. 

> Option 3: New Blood This is what my storyteller did to me and my first time players (and its also very close to the plot of CoNY). We were shovelheads. Embraced to make a huge mess for the Camarilla and die quick deaths. We were all thin-bloods. The last thing the pcs remember is the sweet rush of ecstasy washing over them, before clawing out of the earth and driven mad by an insatiable hunger. The thrill of the hunt, and the sweet, warm blood on their tongue, nothing was going to be better. All three will awake next to each other, surrounded by the corpses they drank dry in their frenzy. What a way to play the name game! The players have three nights were they figure out their new condition or coverup their tracks (if they think to do it). They contend with their hunger and hatred of sunlight, wrestle with accidentally drinking their family member dry. After three nights, the Scourge comes knocking. Rather than outright killed, they are dragged to Elysium. For some reason, they are adopted by an upstanding member of the Camarilla- or the Prince orders a political rival care for them (hoping they fail). The players are the errand childer of this kindred, and slowly they figure out what they have been gathering through all these errands....

This one lets the characters all have the moments where they discover their disciplines and powers- and bestial tendencies. It naturally flows to allow players to slowly discover the rules and mechanics as well. All players must play fledglings for this tale. 

This story is much more a personal tale than a political one. Eventually politics makes its way in...but it does not have to be a focus. 

This story has less of a hook and more of a “Figure it Out” survival mode until the errands begin. The story is how the character’s react to their condition. It very quickly lends itself to a narrative of finding your own path in the night, rather than mindlessly obeying.

So here are a few questions that I ask myself when crafting a chronicle story:

1. What kind of story do you want to tell? Not asking for a plot hook, I’m asking for a general concept. Is it a tale of good triumphing over evil? (Not necessarily a wrong answer, but if you wanna play good guys...vampire is not the best game for that). Is this a chase? Is this a race against time? 

2. How do you want your story to make your players feel? Do you want to tell a story that invokes as much dread as possible in your players? Do you want them to feel ultra powerful? Vampire is both a power fantasy and a dread inducing game- it can do both. 

3. If you don’t know what kind of story you want to tell, switch gears to worldbuilding. CbN has so many NPCs with the rumors already written for you. Its your setting, perhaps switch two rumors around with prominent NPCs. Decide which ones are true in your setting- Maybe Primogen Annabell did kill her predecessor. Perhaps the Lasombra are attempting to infiltrate the Camarilla as everyone fears- but no one is able to prove it or stop it. Deciding what is true, false, and undetermined usually blossoms into hooks and stories worth investigating.

4. What is a historical event of the city that the Vampires would have endured/ scars would have remained? For example, in my chronicle set in Richmond, the tale of the Richmond Vampire is true. Depending on who you ask, it is the Camarilla’s best or sloppiest cover up. Have the chronicle coincide with the events and the coterie live through them. No one said this must take place in 2021- you can do 2015, 2008, -hell go back the 1990s. Its actually super fun if you set your chronicle in the 90s and your Malkavian is using phrases from 2020.

5. One of my things I do when writing scenes and moments is play Dread by myself. Dread is a role playing game played with jenga. There are no dice rolls, if you want to attempt something, you have to pull pieces from the tower. If the tower falls, you die. If there is a moment where I really really really dont want to pull from the tower, though the reward for succeeding is so so sweet- I keep the moment. If its really easy to shrug and go eh, I can live without performing that action- go back and rewrite it. If you have no incentive to pull from the tower, why would they?

6. Examine your player’s desires and ambitions- and do not neglect them in your chronicle. The plot wont magically allow all of them to achieve their ambitions. However, provide opportunities for them through the plot. Its on them to strive for what their character wants- its on you to make them struggle but have the path to get there. For example, if a player wants to become a Baron, provide a political opening. Perhaps then by announcing their power, they have made a bigger name for themselves and it has become harder to hide. Perhaps by doing this, the kindred they owe a favor is suddenly much more vocal about it. 

Here are some suggestions for handling new players:

> You are going to have to handhold them through some things. New players to vtm won’t be able to see the cascading political web and how the consequences of their actions will ripple into waves. I like to use Wits+Insight and call it Common Sense. Common Sense was a merit in V20- and damn is it WONDERFUL. All they need is just 1 success (they can take half) to have you explain how whatever plan they just thought of is actually a TERRIBLE idea. 

> Do your RPG consent list. Know what is safe to discuss and what is off the table. I highly recommend utilizing something my Storyteller used for my first chronicle, and subsequently I use for all my ttrpgs now: Invoking the Veil. The metaphor is that you are slowly lessening the intensity of a scene- as if raising the opacity or looking through layers of fabric. Eventually, there is too much fabric and you can no longer see the scene. If something is too intense, the ST or the player may announce they are invoking the veil. Reduce the scene by lowering music, speaking in third person, or avoiding heavy descriptors. You can reduce it further to just dice rolls. Role play stops, and the consequences of the scene are solely dictated by the dice. Or fade to black. If a player is repeatedly fading to black on something- ask to talk to them about it. Clearly something is too intense and they are not having as much fun as they can. Debriefing after a session is also a good idea. Do something silly! Share and check all the memes in the discord chat. Its important to make sure you and your players know that at the end of the night- its all just a game.

> I find the sabbat and new players don’t tend to mix well. You may absolutely still use the sabbat in your chronicle! But the dogma and philosophical ideals of the sabbat can be offputting and downright upsetting to a first time player. You may absolutely build to it- that’s what I did to my players. And in the moment of the truth, they chose to cling to humanity. 

> The taking half mechanic is your friend! V5 says players may announce how many dice they are rolling- and if the dividend is greater than the DC- they auto succeed. This streamlines play. Of course, you as the Storyteller may say this is a roll they are not allowed to take half on. Usually these are contested rolls (combat).

> The three turns and out rule keeps combat intense but not too lengthy. It actually streamlines encounters super super well. 

> My ST used a phrase, “The quickest way to kill Cthulhu is to give it a healthbar.” If Methuselahs and Elders are involved in your game- avoid giving them stat blocks. This cultivates a conflict that new players must find a way to overcome without brute force combat. It makes them think critically and defy these super old antagonists through narrative means. This also gets the notion out of your and their heads, “if they die, its over.” Its never that easy. Never. 

[simpsiren]

hellooo! I love your writing style!! hope everything is going well for you. if it’s possible, I would like to request a chenle imagine where the reader is also an idol and they do a collab then eventually get into a relationship? thank you!!! <33 stay safe and take care of yourself!!!!

genre. angst, fluff

word count. 2.4k~

warnings. none!

a/n. i hope you’re doing well too! omg this req is certainly adorable and i couldn’t help myself to just make this so fluffyy anyways i hope you’re staying safe as well and enjoy readinggg!! <3

“So...”

The air between us was thick. The silence was extremely uncomfortable. I didn’t think that working with NCT’s Chenle for a collab would be anything like this. I didn’t like how I got the request to do this so suddenly, and I didn’t have the right to reject since my manager kept forcing it on me.

We were stuck in the conference room. Everyone that’s part of the collab have already left and told us to get the song started. Chenle was seating on the opposite side, head hung low as he twirled his pen between his fingers, staring down at a blank sheet of paper. “Why did you suggest that we composed the music ourselves? It would have been much easier if we didn’t have to.” I said, shaking my head and leaning forward, an elbow on the table as I pinched my temples.

Chenle sighed and lifted his eyes off the paper and onto me. “I’m sorry for wanting to be original?” He retorted back, lifting his free hand up to run it through his hair and shaking his head, his fluffy hair following.

“I know we don’t want this. So let’s just tell our managers to call it off.” I stood up from my seat and headed to the door. Just when I had my hand on the door handle, Chenle slammed his pen on hard on the table, the sound pierced through my ears, flinching a little due to shock.

“I already accepted it and unlike you, I don’t have the heart to let people down.” His eyes intimidatingly trailed from the paper and to me. Our eyes locked and we had an intensive staring competition to what fet like almost a minute. “So sit and help me write the lyrics.”

I huffed with frustration, stomping back to the chair and sitting down roughly. “We can work on it next week. Does it have to be now?” I asked with annoyance.

It was late at night. I didn’t have the mood to do this. And I bet neither does he. It’s only been hours since we met in person and we’re already having such tensions. It’s probably my fault that we got off the wrong foot, but I’m just that way. My manager knew me well enough to know that I don’t like doing collabs with other idols. But here we are. And Chenle is giving me zero chances to back out.

“You know what? Fine. We can stop here. But I better have some sort of idea from you.” He breathed out, clearly sounding annoyed as well. He pushed his chair back and grabbing his belongings. After cleaning the table, he went to the door. After glaring at me and rolling his eyes, he left.

I placed a hand on the table, leaning my body as I faced the door. I scoffed, glaring as if he was still standing there.

“Why did Mister Koh make me do this?” I whined out angrily, slamming my head on the table as I groaned out.

I was informed to meet Chenle at a recording room. And when I got there, I was met with an extremely intimidating Chenle. I don’t know what he’s pissed about. But he was looking at me as if he’s staring into my soul. Or perhaps it was just his resting bitch face. Either way, I did not like that look on him. Is he only like this towards me?

“I’m here. And I did come up with a few ideas.” I sat down on the chair beside him. He was sitting in front of a piano. He spun his chair around to face me. “You’re late.” Chenle stated with a firm tone.

I nodded my head. “Yeah. Not my fault. I had a recording session.” I simply replied, matter-of-factly. I began putting my bag down and taking out my notebook that had my ideas along with a pen. “Did you come up with the melody for it as well?” Chenle asked. He got closer to me, peeking at my notes. I closed it and pulled it away from his eyes.

I gulped, realising just how close he was to me. The two of us looked at my notebook that was in the air before making eye contact. I didn’t know what happened, but we didn’t bother moving back, or pulling away from each other’s gaze.

I cleared my throat, shaking my head as I placed the notebook back down and flipped to the pages where I had my ideas. I slide the notebook to Chenle. He grabbed it and allowed his eyes scan through the notes. “I liked the one you cancelled out.” Chenle said with a shrug. He moved his chair to the piano and began playing a few notes.

I read over what I cancelled out and remembered why I did. “You weren’t suppose to read that.”

“But I did. And I like it.”

“But I don’t.”

The two of us looked to each yet again, his brows cocked up while I blinked my eyes. “Let me try something.” Chenle started pressing on his piano again, switching from key to key like trail and error. He then cleared his throat and propped my notebook in front of him. He leaned forward to read the lyrics and began singing. I was able to note a few things from just watching him for fifteen seconds.

One, his voice was beautiful. Of course, that’s true to all idols in the world. But his was unique. For the first time in a long time, I felt goosebumps forming on my skin when I heard it for the first time. I mean, to be honest I never listened to NCT which is why I’m so unfamiliar. Again I blame Mister Koh for dragging me to work with someone I have never known about but that’s besides the point. His voice is the kind that could put you to sleep, one that puts you at complete peace no matter the situation, it makes the world slow down and revolve all its energy around him, and only him.

Second, he’s fast. Very fast. In terms of being able to sing my lyrics with a melody together with a piano. I realised how he was able to note the feelings the listeners should get from my lyrics, and bringing it out with the piano. He sang it very well. I loved it, as much as I want to deny due to Chenle.

“How’d you even-” I asked, gasping weakly at the end. Chenle gave a warm smile. A new smile that lit up his entire face, not the expressionless one that gives off bitchy vibes. He was truly happy, that I could instantly tell. It was a smile that’s entirely different from last week. I kind of felt my heart softened at the sight.

“Let’s work with this.”

It’s late at night. Very late into the night. The two of us had long schedules today but yet we had to meet at the recording studio to finish up the song. We’re almost finished with it. 

“We can end it off with the chorus but sing it in a different key. And back it up with some high vocals.” Chenle suggested, looking at me. I nodded my head, rubbing my eyes and forcing them open, trying my hardest to not fall asleep on sight. “Want to try recording the high note?” Chenle fiddled around with the controls in front of him. I never knew how that thing worked. I took in a deep breath, swallowing after.

“I can’t do high notes. I mean I used to but it’s not my thing anymore.” I let out, resting my cheek in the palm of my hand. Chenle sat there in silence, not knowing what to reply. He seemed tired as well, seeing how long he took to process my words. He eventually hummed but shook his head. “I want you to try. I think it’ll sound good.” Chenle insisted, standing up to open the door that lead to the recording booth.

I frowned, lazily shaking my head. “Please we can just use your voice for that part.” I tried flashing him my puppy face, eyes batting in his direction as my brows sunk and I deepen my frown, to which he responded with a scrunched up nose and face, scrutinizing me up and down. “Don’t ever do that again. It looks horrible on you.” Chenle dryly commented, his bead jerking towards the recording studio. 

I sighed and pushed myself off my chair, walking towards Chenle. I flared him a glare with feigned exasperation. Chenle chuckled softly and closed the door as soon as I entered. Chenle went back to his seat in front of the control panels. After seeing him adjusts a few more things through the glass, he leaned forward.

“I’ll start playing from the end of verse two. You can try singing your part of the bridge if you’d like.” Chenle spoke into the mic after I placed my headphones on. I hummed and nodded my head. After a few seconds of warming up my voice, I gave him a thumbs up and I signal to start the music.

It began playing in my ears and I took in a deep breath before singing. I took Chenle’s advice offering to sing a note or so higher than I usually do. It felt uncomfortable which made me stop singing for a moment as I got nervous. 

“It’s okay. Keep going. It was nice.” Chenle whispered calmly. I felt myself being soothed and calmed by his voice yet again. I turned my head to him, who was looking back at me with hopeful, gentle, and sweet eyes. He dipped his head down slightly as a way to urge me to keep going. 

I puffed up my cheeks and huffed quietly, waiting for my part to come in. At that moment, I couldn’t take my eyes off Chenle, and neither can he. We locked eyes and time paused. In that split second, I took a picture of the moment in my head. I didn’t know why, but I wanted it to be remembered. A simple thing like holding eye contact with Chenle had my stomach churning and butterflies being produced. I couldn’t possibly be falling for Chenle, right?

I continued to sing, my eyes still fully locked on with Chenle. I flashed a soft smile after I finished. Removing the headphones, I placed them down and walked out the recording booth. Chenle immediately stood up from his seat and run up, pulling me to him and hugging me tightly. 

“That was amazing! Why didn’t sing like that in your other songs?!” Chenle shouted with excitement. I stood there frozen, not being able to move an inch of my body. I felt my heart skipping a beat, heat rushing up to my cheeks. Why am I feeling like this? As if I had always hoped for something like this to happen over the times we’ve spent together.

Chenle notice how I wasn’t hugging back. I was so stiff. He pulled away, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck, breathing out a soft chuckle. “S-Sorry about that.” He whispered. He had his head up, was looking everywhere but me, which made me tilt my head in awe.

“Thanks. It felt weird at first.” I interlocked my fingers in front of me. “Should we order food? I’m hungry.” I asked, trying to change the subject so we wouldn’t have to face this weird gap between us. Chenle nodded firmly and quickly, grabbing his phone out of his sweatpants. “Let’s see what they have.”

I looked at the time. 3:02AM. We just finished eating and we were sitting silently on our phones next to each other. I yawned loudly, covering my mouth to excuse myself. I felt my eyes closing and my brain switching off. I was this close to falling asleep. But I knew we still had to record the full song.

“You tired?” Chenle whispered, not looking at me as his eyes were kept glued to his phone. I hummed softly, my head hanging low as I kept jerking myself awake. “A little. Just let me sleep for a little while longer before we record again.”

Suddenly, I felt a hand lightly pressing on the side of my ear. It was Chenle’s, slowly guiding my head to rest on his shoulder. “Was just trying to get you comfortable.” He blurted out, he tilted his eyes down on me before quickly switching back to his phone, coughing lightly. I chuckled. “Thanks.”

I closed my eyes fully, smacking my lips as I moved my head around a little to find a comfortable spot on his shoulder, which eventually ended up being the crook of his neck. Absentmindedly, I breathed in his scent. He wasn’t wearing any perfume but it smelt like he was. I sighed calmly.

I felt his body moving, His arm was placed around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. I felt my heart beating faster as I realised I was laying on top of him, his chest going up and down as he breathed.

“Are you okay with this?” Chenle asked politely, his hand going up to my head and stroking my hair gently, his touch ever so light and fragile. “Oddly enough, I am. I’m just too tired.” I rest my head on his chest, my eyes were now back open since I cannot shake the fact that we’re in this state. Why am I enjoying this so much? What’s Chenle doing to me?

I was the first one to wake up. He sleeping figure still below me. I slowly lifted up my hand, my fingers traced the features of his well made face. I moved my hand up to his hair, ever so lightly running my fingers through them as I took the time to admire its softness, twirling them in my fingers.

“Enjoying my hair?” Chenle said, voice low and raspy. I gasped lightly, looking down from his hair and my eyes met his. He had a slight smirk on his face. I scoffed and pulled away, sitting up straight and folding my arms. “Didn’t.” I felt his hand on my wrist.

Out of the blue, he pulled me back down in an instant. He smiled softly. “Again.” He simply said. I raised a brow. “What?” I questioned, utterly confused. He guided my hand back up to his hair. I blinked my eyes rapidly. Chenle didn’t speak a word after, closing his eyes as I assumed he was going back to sleep.

I bit my lower lip in nervousness, playing with his hair again as he hummed in satisfaction. I laughed and shook my head. “Cute.” I whispered.

“You more.” Chenle wasn’t asleep.

[dc41896]

Attention

Pairing: Johnny “Human Torch” StormxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst (if it even counts really), also tiny bit of implied happy times, but mostly fluff💕!

Re-reading over your notes for what felt like the millionth time this week, you softly mumble to yourself the highlighted material hoping that everything would remain stuck in your mind for your practical tomorrow.

“Intramuscular means within the muscle and is given at a 90 degree angle. Intravenous means within the vein, given at a 25 degree angle. Subcutaneous: in the subcutaneous layer at a 45 degree angle. And finally intradermal-,”

“Psst....psst!!”

If only your boyfriend would stop being a grown man child and let you finish studying though.

“Yes Johnny?,” you sigh still looking down at your binder.

“Take a break, I want to show you something.”

“No Johnny we’re not doing that again.”

“I wasn’t talking about that princess,” he smirks moving to lean against the bedroom door frame. “Although I’m not complaining if you want more.”

Giving him a look clearly showing how you weren’t in the mood, he chuckles holding up his hands to show he was done joking.

“Seriously though I want to show you something, so can you please come with me?”

“Just tell me, or take a picture of it on your phone and show me that way. I really have to keep studying and don’t have time for a bunch of breaks.” Straightening up, a low huff leaves his lips as you hear him pad through the living room before coming back holding a new action figure posed as if about to throw a handful of flames.

“Look! It’s me!,” he beams squatting next to you holding out the toy for you to see.

“Mhm that’s nice babe,” you smile not really displaying the reaction he wanted you to.

“I see you’re having a hard time containing your excitement,” he retorts sarcastically, bringing his mini me back towards his chest.

“It really is nice babe, it’s just similar to some of your other toys that I’ve already seen.”

“But with this one, the little flame lights up. See?” Pressing the small button on the back to show the tiny, plastic flame glowing scarlet, a wide smile spreads across his face making you giggle.

“Yes very cool. Now if that’s all, I gotta get back to this okay?”

“Alright,” he sighs standing up to return to his spot on the couch probably cold by now. “Why don’t you come study out here? It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on the floor.”

“Because you’re watching tv and that’s gonna distract me.”

“Not anymore. The game’s off so I’m done for the night,” he playfully smiles stealing one of your study packets making you whine his name. “Cmon you know you’d rather sit on the big, soft, incredibly comfy couch.”

Wiggling his brows, you roll your eyes trying to focus back on the words in front of you, but as always, seeing his adorable pout was wearing you down. Plus the ache in your buttcheeks was really making the couch, or any soft piece of furniture for that matter, sound like heaven.

“And, as an added bonus, your incredibly hot, charming, all around amazing boyfriend will be there.”

“Johnny...”

“As!...support and to help anyway I can of course. What did you think?,” he feigns shock as you shake your head.

“Alright fine. But if you try to distract me just once, I’m kicking you out for the rest of the night, and you’ll have to either get a hotel, or crash with Reed and Sue.”

“Okay deal,” he chuckles helping you stand and gather the packets, pens, and highlighters you needed to continue your attempted all nighter.

Sat in the middle of the plush sectional with one of his legs draped over your folded ones and the other stretched out behind you, so far he’d done well on his agreement. He stayed busy on his phone watching sports highlights with earbuds attached to his head, and hardly ever touched you unless to give a reassuring hug when he could sense you were getting overwhelmed, or softly dance his finger along your arm making you smile. He even started quizzing you from whichever packet you were on as you lied just below his chest playing with his free hand.

From how he was earlier, seemingly a bit more clingy and not wanting to be away from you, something told you deep down this was all he wanted. Just feeling your body near him as you did whatever, no matter how boring the task was. And although a little distracting, you couldn’t be completely mad at him for his antics since deep down you know you wanted it too.

Honestly need may be the better word judging from your noticeably calmer state. Even Johnny could feel your heart rate gradually decrease to its normal speed through his body.

Soon his yawn began to trigger your own set and eyelids became heavy as the questions came slower along with your answers. You tried to fight it off, but apparently your body had other plans making it increasingly more difficult to open your eyes until both of your light snores were the only sound that could be heard throughout the room.

———

“Good morning Mr. Johnny Storm, Miss Y/N,” the computerized security system greets opening the curtains to reveal the bright sun and cause you to stir. Rubbing your eyes, you see all the packets spread on the glass coffee table quickly reminding you of your exam.

“Sherlock, what time is it?,” you ask in a panic as you sit up causing Johnny to shift slightly without opening his eyes.

Also, why he decided to name the computer system Sherlock, you’d never understand.

“11:30 am miss.”

Grabbing your packets as fast as you can, a string of curses fall from your lips as you run about trying to collect your things. By now you were supposed to be on campus looking over your notes one last time before going in for your slot time at 12. At this rate, you’d definitely be over an hour late and received an automatic zero.

“What’s the rush princess?,” your boyfriend tiredly asks stretching his arms over his head as he stands.

“I overslept and I’m late,” you sniff trying to hold back your tears as you search through drawers trying to find your scrubs. “Where are they?”

Joining you in the room, he tries to kiss your cheek only to miss you completely as you rush past him still looking for your clothes.

“Closet babe. By my suit.”

“Well what about the other ones since those need to be washed now?”

“In the basket to be washed.”

“You mean the same clothes in the basket I asked you to wash last weekend,” you retort changing into the faint ash smelling scrubs. Noticing you wiping your eyes a bit more frequently, he manages to grab your arm stopping you from wherever else you needed to go.

“Johnny seriously I don’t have time for this-,”

“Relax okay? Let’s try to call your professor and tell them what happened to see if you can get a new time.”

“It’s not gonna work. This isn’t an emergency situation, I just overslept like an idiot,” you answer pulling away to finish the rest of your morning routine in the bathroom.

He sighs hearing you bang about while pulling his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants trying to find the number for your school. His upcoming events list popping up though makes him deeply chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Oh honey...!”

“Johnny please don’t start. I’m already frustrated a-and overwhelmed trying to figure out what to do and just need to-.” Holding his phone in front of your eyes, you see his calendar showing all his important meetings and interviews, along with your test date.

Which wasn’t until next Monday.

Pulling your phone from your backpack, you go to your calendar to find the same thing making you feel even dumber.

“...S-So I don’t have my test today?”

“No princess,” he smiles coming closer to caress your face with both hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“And I stayed up all night this week studying for nothing?”

“Well not for nothing. You know your stuff now, so you won’t have to worry about it later.”

“Yea,” you sigh looking up at him as you hold onto his strong forearms. “Sorry for snapping at you about the laundry, and for kinda being cranky yesterday.”

“You were stressed. I get it.”

“But still, there were things I could’ve said differently-.”

“I forgive you,” he smiles leaning in to meet your soft lips with his in a needy kiss he’d been craving since yesterday. Biting your bottom lip as he just barely pulls away, your hands wander from his forearms to his flexed biceps, shoulders, and eventually chest stopping to graze your index finger along the small dip below his neck.

“Well since I don’t have an exam today and no classes, I was thinking...”

“Oh I think I know,” he smirks tilting his head lower to nip at your jaw and neck making you giggle.

“I help you do the laundry.” As soon as the sentence left your mouth, his stopped making you laugh harder while he groaned against your skin.

“Alright I promise it’ll get done today, but can’t we do it later?,” he whines with puppy eyes, lifting you so your legs could wrap around his hips as if trying to persuade you.

“Let me finish. We do the laundry so I can have clean scrubs and between loads, I give you all the attention I know you’ve been wanting that I wasn’t fully able to give this week.”

“Hey it’s not like I’ve been that-,” he tries to deny before meeting your eyes as if they were saying “really?”

“...yes please,” he smiles before his mouth returns to your smiling lips.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @jojolu @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson @scoop93535

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found on my masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[sanieee]

F E R N W E H

Fernweh

(a) An urge to travel even stronger than wonderlust. 

Au: Mafia au (kind of)

Summary: Bored of your life as the daughter of a prestigious business man you seek to wander around the world, and that could easily be done if your mother let you have more freedom. During another tedious dance organized by some friends of your father, you meet a handsome stranger with hair red as fire who, between a commotion in the room, has the key to your desires. What will you choose? 8 pairs of eyes are waiting for your response. 

Warnings: none

Words: 2.4k

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Click ,clack

'One step, two steps.'

The sound of your heels bounced from wall to wall.

Click,clack

'Lift up the hem of the dress, do not trip.'

Time was on your side, there was no need to hurry. 

Click,clack

'Walk with elegance.' 

But you never knew what awaited you that night

Click,clack

'Walk with your head up high. Do not disappoint your guests. Do not disappoint your parents...'

The doors to the assembly room opened and you were instantly met with the sound of laughter.  The big chandelier was in the center of the room and  it shined above everyone, the big windows made the room more spacious and the congregation of people made it more lively, or so it seemed. The dresses of the fine women glowed under the fake light and the attire of the wealthy men were a copy of each other. The only difference was those whose ranks were higher, wearing expensive-looking uniforms with badges and medals hanging on them like a prize for their efforts. 

'Lift your dress, do not stumble.'

As you tried to walk through the multitude, faces who you did not recognize greeted and complimented your appearance tonight. With your poor sight, you noticed your father's white tuxedo and your mother's hand full of jewelry clinging on to his arm. You walked towards them,and your mother took you by the arm and you left your father's side. 

"You are late, you know?"

"I am not, I recall you telling me to be here at 22:00. And I passed the doors at 21:59."

Your mother rolled her eyes, of course, she never was late to a grand ceremony like this. She then placed her arms on your shoulders and fixed your dress. It was an ultramarine blue, with laced ornaments from the hip and up, exposed shoulders, while the skirt was flowy and light. Your gown was simple, yet, it captured the attention of many people. 

"You look great, darling. In no time I should see you accompanied by some lovely gentleman."

You scoffed at her, and she glared at you.

"I do not need a man to tie me down to this city. I am young and ready to explore the world. To see more than walls and fancy structures, I -"

"I do not want your mouth to spat filthy words, now. Please, save them for later, do something useful, or try to socialize so we can have more fellow workers join our company or would like to work with us."

Your mother then left you with your own thoughts so you decided  to go towards the main reason why you came, the buffet table. As you stuffed my mouth, as elegant as possible, a young man approached you with a glass of wine on his right hand. His hair was red, which attracted a lot of attention to the younger female audience in the room, not that there were many anyway. You took in every feature on his face, like how his lips were pinkish, soft-looking, and his eyes were a deep chocolate-brown. He was rather charming if you may add.

"Hello, you must be Y/N."

He bowed, and you replicated his actions, nodding at the statement . He had a cute smile, and he was by far the youngest male in the room. He was tall and had a deep voice that could scare a child away, but his soft actions made him look approachable. You then took notice of his badges and medals hanging on his chest, no name tag was visible and the designs were rather unfamiliar. Something about him told you to not let your guard down while you were with him. He screamed danger in any way possible, but you were only more puzzled and wanted to get to know this man as the night progressed. 

"Yes, yes I am. And who are you? If you don't mind me asking."

"Oh, no worries. My name is Song Mingi."

"Song? Interesting last name I must say."

"Thank you, but let's skip the sweet talk. Would you like to come with me to the balcony?"

Agreeing with the man you just met, you walked over to the balcony where the breeze of night welcomed the both of you. He started to ask personal questions, and you did the same. He was not the son of an important company, as everyone here was filthy rich by heredity or by getting their hands on some dirty money to be in the position they are in, but he was said to be a worker of an important organization who served just like the military. He gave no answer when you asked about his job, but he continued asking away. 

"You know, I feel like you are getting to know a lot about me when I know only your name."

He laughed, eyeing you suspiciously. He set the empty glass on the railing of the balcony, leaned on it with his elbow, touching the place where his empty beverage stood and faced you. 

"Well, for the most part, you are 20, congratulations, you get to know that we have the same age. Anything else you want to know?" 

You simply stared at him for a few seconds, but he spoke before you could.

"No work involved. That is too boring."

"Well...Then..."

You were curious about this man, he was so intriguing, but your social skills were the same as a big fat zero. You wanted to know something personal. You wanted to know why he came so suddenly, like a predator ready to attack his prey. - "What are your near-future goals? Like, tonight, tomorrow morning, and this week."

"Interesting question right there malady. How do I answer that?" - He let his face rest on the back of his hand, the one where his elbow was resting on, and his eyes were lost looking at the moon.

"Huh... Well... I do like adventures. I like thrilling moments and I surely live one almost every day. My goals are to live a moment where my adrenaline goes up, and I get to see the fear in the eyes of a sinner."

"A sinner? Why a sinner? Who are you to choose who is one?"

A sinister smile crept its way to his lips, and at the corners of his eyes rested his pupils, staring down at you in a way you could not describe. Chills ran down your spine, his eyes were hiding a deep secret, you knew, but no more questions came out of your mouth. Your eyes were trying not to make contact with him.

"Aren't we all sinners, darling? That aside, what about you? What are your plans? Any desires to be adventurous?"

You looked up, only to see that he was looking down at you with a smug look, oh the desire you had to whip it out his perfect face. You were about to respond when some noises were heard, like doors being opened in a not so gentle way. You looked to see where the noise came from, but found nothing. When you faced him again, he had gotten up and stood as rigid and his uniform let him be.

He looked intimidating, a sudden fear had conquered over you. He wasn't just anybody, you felt it, you knew it.

"I...would like to be free."

Your voice came almost like a whisper, maybe it was because of the cold, or maybe because you felt like an ant, who knows. He leaned down a bit and stood closer to you.

"Free? Aren't you free, princess?"

You rolled my eyes at the nickname, he was throwing every pet name he could think of and it wouldn't be a surprise for you if he accidentally called you an egg because he ran out ideas. What surprised you however, was how fast he had gotten comfortable with you.

"Free? No, quite the opposite in fact. I'm tied to a reputation I never asked for. Money is the only thing flowing in these people's minds. I am done with this so-called exclusive life. I want to see more than expensive jewelry, wear something that it's not an overpriced dress, or costly outfits, and eat more than exclusive cuisine. I want to explore and see the world. But not through a car window precisely, not through some VR glasses and not through stories of wealthy people who come to my house to eat a good meal."

"Woah there, I thought you had an easy life." - He chuckled, and you couldn't help but smirk to yourself. - "Well, what if I say I will give you a chance to have what you dreamt of?"

You looked at him confused, what was he saying? You wanted to ask him how that was even possible, however, your conversation was cut short after a bloody scream came from the inside of the room. You rushed inside and by the corner of your eye, you could see Mingi walking slowly, not caring about the high pitch screams.

"Mom?! Dad?!"

After a solid 2 minutes, you found your parents, but to your surprise, your father was fist battling a random individual, while your mother was trying to liberate her arm from a man who was clearly there for the jewels on her hands. You ran to her, lifting the stupid dress, almost breaking the heels. 

"Mom!" - She turned to you while still gripping on her jewels.

"Mom leave the jewels! They are worth nothing compared to your safety!"

You expected her to listen, to leave the goddam pearls alone, to not give a damn about them because in the end she had enough money to buy ten more pairs. But it was not like that.

"No! These are the only things we've got!"

You stood in the middle of the room, with a blank expression. The only thing we've got. Is she for real now? You looked at the abundance of rings, bracelets and necklaces a very bored man had in a bag. You felt disoriented. Were you really just a doll for them to sit still, look pretty and have a nice image for the company?

You heard laughter come from the behind, you turned around and met face to face with Mingi. He was laughing at your mother's attempts to win against the man, who was clearly not putting up a fight. The chaos around you faded when your eyes met his. He stopped, a smug look on his face once more, and came walking painfully slowly towards you.

"What do you find so amusing about this? "

"How can I not find it amusing? Women trying to save their jewels, men trying to keep a strong façade.... Why are they not trying to save what's really important? The doors are opened and no fire is caused."

You analyzed his words. You knew what he meant, why were they not trying to save themselves? Their lives? You came back to reality after hearing another voice.

"Mingi, I think we got what we needed. Knock it off and let's leave, this place is a total wreck. "

A man who wore the same uniform as Mingi spoke out of nowhere. Again, no name tag, same badgers and he had the same intimidating aura.

He had black hair, his bangs styled to the side, his visuals caught your breath and took it away, he was calm and looked at Mingi after giving you a glance, he started walking lazily towards the balcony where other men were waiting, seven of them were ready to jump from the balcony.

"You either get going alone or you take the girl with you, in not wasting more of my precious time."

You were beyond confused at this point and Mingi smiled at him, then turned around to look at you once again.

"Do you like your life?"

The question caught your eye, and you tried making up a sentence, but the only thing that came out of your mouth was gibberish. The other men were also looking at you, bored expressions and some had smirks on their faces. They clearly found the situation entertaining.

"Y/N! Stop talking with him and help me!"

You looked back at your mother. Never had you ever seen your parents in such a state. The loud cries in the back echoed in the room. You were in trance, but one of the chandeliers fell to the ground prohibiting the proximity to your parents and more screaming could be heard.

"Y/N, I have a proposal."

You faced Mingi once more, but he was at the balcony door this time. Your eyes widening, a feeling of loneliness crept over and you wanted him to stay.

"If you dare to come with me, with us, you'll get to see the world as you've never done before. I promise to take you to places you've never seen before, and corners of the planet no one knows about. "

It was tempting because you had the opportunity to have what you always wanted at the tip of my fingers. Mingi climbed up to the railing in the balcony, and the other men jumped from it. You saw him smile, his eyes telling you that this was your last and only chance to give up what you had and start a new beginning.

 A sudden impulse made you walk up to him. Your mother yelled and your father too, they wanted you back in their arms, but it landed on deaf ears. You started to gain more speed and eventually ended up running up to him. You extended your arms, and he caught you in a warm embrace. Before you knew it you were falling with him from the 20th floor. He smiled, and you felt your adrenaline go up, you've never felt so alive before.

"Welcome to an adventure Y/N."

[tomthesoftie]

laundry day

a/n: this took me like 2-3 hours to write - oops - i came up with this idea when i was drawing in my sketchbook, hopefully it’s good because it’s already 4 am lol

pairing: college!flirt!tom holland x nerdy!reader

warnings: foul language, kind of sexual not really, tom being a dick and a flirt, y/n has a shitty day, rip harry is such good friend

masterlist

pt.1 | pt.2

After a long day, you headed back to your dorm, taking a bath a soon as you got back. You had planned on going to the library to do some late night studying, or just reading, after your bath. Unfortunately, it was laundry day and you only had a white, cropped camisole and a short skirt, that was too short to be worn anywhere, left in your closet. You groaned having no other choice than to take those. 

The day had been terrible for you. You had been assigned stacks on stacks of papers that were either due by the end of the week or 3 weeks, maximum. Then, when you were rushing to get your lunch, some ass cut in front of you and took at least 30 minutes to order, resulting in you not having any lunch and rushing to your class. After that class, you had 15 minutes to get to your next lecture, so you decided to get yourself a coffee. Thankfully, you were able to order this time with no interruption, but when you were walking to the lecture hall, a curly brunette “accidentally,” and harshly, bumped your shoulder, making you drop the coffee in your hand. You cried out, feeling your anger succumb your every emotion.

“Dude,” you exclaimed.

You were never the kind to fight back, but today had already been so shitty for you that you’d snapped.

The brunette grinned, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“My ass,” you rolled your eyes, clenching your fists at your side, “look, buddy, today has already been a very shitty day for me, so if you wouldn’t mind, at least sound sincere when you apologize for fucking spilling my only source of energy.”

“Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he laughed, not taking a single word you had said seriously.

“You know what? Just fuck off,” you stomped away, remembering that you still had to get to your next lecture.

He snickered behind you as you walked away, clearly finding amusement in your indignation. 

That brings you to where you are now: heading to library in a skimpy outfit with a strap of your book bag clinging onto your right shoulder. By now it was 8 P.M. and you still hadn’t gotten any food to eat. Although your stomach was growling louder than a predatory animal sensing danger, you were determined to get to the only place you could seek peace: the library. 

As you walked in, Harry, one of your close friends was eyeing you weirdly. He had volunteered to work at the library, seeing he could do his homework and study there, as well as get in a few aesthetic pictures.

“What are you wearing?” His eyebrows furrowed, scanning your outfit.

“Don’t judge, it’s laundry day and today fucking sucked,” you groaned loudly, knowing that no one would be at the library at such a late time of day.

Your stomach growled, “You got a lion in your shirt, or shall I say piece of fabric?” 

“I haven’t eaten lunch or dinner at all today,” you slouched, dropping your bag to the floor, “got anything I could eat?”

“Of course, I got to have a snack or twenty if I’m going to be working till 10 P.M,” he handed you two large energy bars, “you’re gonna need it.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” you pulled a chair over to the circulation desk, where Harry was seated.

“I know,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes before grabbing you book bag, pulling out Pride and Prejudice, one of your favorites. You opened the book to the page you left off on and began reading. Harry had gone back to studying and taking pictures, mostly of you.

“Harry,” a voice boomed as it entered. 

You had only gotten 45 minutes to read in peace. You mentally and probably physically banged your head with the book.

“Are you ready to go?” The voice continued. 

As you listened closely, you realized you’d heard to voice before. You just couldn’t put your finger on who it was. 

“I still have 1 hour left, Tom,” Harry stated.

You lifted your head in the direction of the familiar stranger. It was curly brunette, the one who had knocked your coffee out of your hand and given zero fucks about it.

“Who’s there, Harry?” you asked, staying hidden in your seat. 

“Just my older brother, Tom. I don’t talk about him much ‘cause he’s a dick,” he said, raising his voice at the end, making sure Tom could hear him.

“Right, I’m the dick,” Tom mumbled to himself before snapping back, “call me another name and I won’t be giving you a ride home tonight. Also, who’s the girl?”

“Y/N, she’s my friend,” he replied, paying no mind to his brother.

Tom brought it upon himself to scope you out. He wandered through the isles of books and looked at all the seats in the library, finally finding you to be sitting with his brother. His eyes scanned your body, admiring the suddenly too tight tank top and short skirt on you.

“Hey, coffee girl,” he winked.

“You know Tom?” Harry glanced at you, confused.

“No, I don’t. I just know that he’s a douche who can suck and choke on his own dick,” you had tensed and your anger from the afternoon had started rising again. 

“I’m sure you’d like to,” his stance not faltering.

“Son of a bitch,” you simply flipped him off, not wanting to put anymore effort into him than necessary. 

He chuckled and brought a chair over to sit himself next to you. The warmth of his body was radiating off of him. 

“Pride and Prejudice, a classic. I’ve never read it, though. Would you say the 2005 film was worthy of its positive reviews?” Tom tried to start a conversation, but you ignored him, scooting your chair away from his.

“C’mon, darling, if you’re still mad about the coffee, I can make it up to you,” this peeked your interest.

“How so?” You asked, placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

“You and me, tomorrow at 12 P.M, that french café near the garden. See you then?” He offered, arching his brow.

You sat silently, thinking about it, “Fine, but don’t think that this is a date.”

He grabbed a pen and post it, writing his contact information on it, “Whatever you want, princess.” 

You snatched the paper out of his hand and began packing your bags. Forgetting that you were wearing practically a strip of fabric around your waist, you bent over and grabbed your bag, giving Tom a great view of your ass and the black, lace panties you wore.

Harry cleared his throat, “Y/N, your skirt.”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh shit, sorry.”

You stood up straight, pulling the skirt down as far as possible and started to head out before a voice stopped you.

“Also, feel free to wear that tomorrow,” Tom winked one last time before letting you walk away.

Your face was burning red and you couldn’t help but let your giggle slip through your lips. You were sure gonna wear this tomorrow.

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

Part 1: Crying In The Club

Member: Juyeon (ft. Hyunjae/changmin????)

Genre: idk man. angst/chill/slice of life/fluff????? irdk 

A/N: this was requested. no, i’m not like, posting/asking openly for requests BUT if you happen to see this, then you’re in luck. the only reason why i haven’t opened for requests is because i don’t have a large pool of followers, so if you like my style of writing and you have faith in me (because i’m not the greatest writer out there), feel free to drop me a dm/ask. i’m currently writing for tbz/nct/ateez/maybe txt idk, if you’re really interested, we can work something out :D

A/N part 2: i’m a very emotional (?) person when it comes to writing (otherwise i’m a stone cold bitch lol), so when i was asked if i could write a part 2 to this juyeon piece, i was quite surprised. the first reason being: i didn’t think the request would be for this particular piece of work for juyeon, because it got like 8 notes at the point of time i got the ask. the second reason is that i wrote the first part for me to release my feelings. whatever i wrote in the first part mirrors my feelings/situation in real life (yeah, i may or may not be worried about an ex-boyfriend stalking me welp, and yeah i may or may not have caught feelings for someone i know who stays in my dorm. unfortunately, it’s only in my imagination that he comes to my rescue, ha.). i just found it very mysterious (?) and strange about all these coincidences and it also made me really happy that people enjoy reading what i write :D

to the person who requested this, i hope you won’t be disappointed!

“what?”  your friend nearly screams in your face. thank god the drinking crowd doesn’t come in until around 10pm, else the whole bar would be looking at the both of you. “like-- the lee juyeon? the one that’s got a fucking billion girls on his tail? and he kissed you?”

you look up over the rim of your spectacles and the edge of your laptop screen, and your friend completely loses it at the sight of your face that was void of emotion.

“the hell’s wrong with you?! didn’t you confess to the man like, a month ago? now, he’s god done kissed you, stayed over in your room when your crazy, psycho ex-boyfriend’s following you, and you have no feelings or opinion to account for that?” 

your eyes were half-hooded from the cider, though not nearly enough to even make you tipsy, it was enough to make your eyelids droop a little lower than if you were wide awake. 

“just because i liked him, doesn’t mean i need to warrant him any more attention. i’m too tired of this stuff anyway, especially with what happened to the relationship with my crazy, psycho ex-boyfriend,” you say with a lack of affection, only looking back to your laptop screen and resuming your furious typing. your friend has her hands on both sides of her face, nearly squishing all her features while she stares wide-eyed at you. 

it felt so long ago that juyeon kissed you for the sake of scaring your stalker away, when it was merely a week ago. since then, you prayed every day not to run into juyeon or your stalker. 

thank god you’ve seen neither. your prayers have been heard. 

“whatever happened with your crazy ex-boyfriend shouldn’t have anything to do with whatever you want to do with your feelings now. are you really going to let him ruin your chances of being with freakin’ lee juyeon?”

“easy for you to say, you weren’t the one being threatened and stalked,” you retorted, not even bothering to look at her. you were lucky your friend knew the whole story, because any other person would’ve shut you down for being so rude and blunt. truth was, she knew you were emotionally exhausted, to the point where you were emotionally unavailable. even if lee juyeon really had a thing for you, it was going to take a lot of effort to encourage you to try building something out of a relationship with one of the school’s most popular boys. 

you hear her sigh before finishing her own bottle of cider. 

“i just want my feelings for juyeon to go away. i don’t want anything to do with the man, not when he’s got so many girls after him, not when i obviously don’t stand a chance at winning him over even if i was interested.”

your friend glares at you, with the words “really?” printed into her forehead. 

“i’m not even gonna bother anymore. you do what you want with juyeon,” you smile at her final announcement to leave the case. you watch with softer eyes, your arms perched on the table and your chin resting on your clasped hands while she packed her stuff. “but mark my words, if it’s anything i know, lee juyeon doesn’t go around kissing people.”

you roll your eyes, pulling away from the table as she picks up her bag. 

“haven’t we established that he only did it because i was being followed--”

“my girl, you don’t get a say in this. you’re too emotionally occupied... or shut down, to see what’s really happening. but from what my cousin tells me, juyeon’s not the kind to offer such intimate acts to people he doesn’t know well. that, you can trust my cousin.” 

you bare your teeth in disgust at her final blow. if she hadn’t reminded you, you would’ve forgotten that changmin, who was part of juyeon’s popular boy clique, was a cousin of hers. 

“i gotta bolt, you have fun and please don’t go back too late. i doubt juyeon’s going to magically appear again at one thirty in the morning to save your ass,” she looks back over her shoulder and raises a brow at you. nodding your head gently, you wave her off.

you mirror your friend’s actions from before and press your hands to the sides of your face, your fingers pressing against your temple. you shut your eyes gently, listening to the soft ‘clink clanks’ from the counter near the kitchen, and the soft shuffle and distant talking from other students in the bar. 

“lee juyeon doesn’t go around kissing people”

you shake yourself out of it, drinking some water before resuming your work on your laptop. whatever your friend said about you being emotionally unavailable was true, but you had no clue how to get over it, and frankly, even if you did know how, it was going to take a lot of courage and a lot of patience.

you work on your stuff for about an hour, making a deal with yourself to head back to your room before midnight while the bar would be at its busiest. you thank the student staff who recognised you from the previous week, pulling out your phone from your pocket and empty-mindedly scrolling through your social media. 

then, someone calls out to you. 

instantly, all the blood rushes from every part of your body and into your chest. that voice... there was no way you were ever going to forget it. 

your grip on your phone gets tighter, and your heart begins to race. your mind screams ‘run’ but your body reacts exactly like how every dumb white girl acts in a horror movie. 

“i was wondering where you’ve been. i didn’t think you’d be back here after... well, last week,” you hear him scoff, and the sound of his shoes against the floor translates into a smaller gap between the two of you. “smart move, i must say. big reverse-psyche move right there.”

your breathing gets heavier, and your eyes were no longer tired from the alcohol. the fact that he was standing right behind you was making you feel trapped, and even though you could’ve taken off in any direction, the memory of what he did completely rendered your ability to move, useless. 

“i don’t want to see you again, please. i stand by what i said last year, i’ll ruin your fucking life if i see you again.”

you take a step forward, but he grabs your arm from behind, harshly pulling you around so you were facing him. 

nothing about him changed. his facial features, his height, his hair might’ve grown a little longer, but the look that you stole your will to love was still in his eyes. you wince as you try to pull away, but he doesn’t budge.

“ruin my life?” he smirks, and it makes you want to slap him across the face. “sure, but not after i ruin yours too.”

you felt your gut twisting like crazy inside of you, and your legs were losing their energy to even let you stand. you wince at his tightening grip on your forearm, and all you wanted to do was to kick him in the nuts, but you just couldn’t move. 

“you’ve already ruined mine...” you quietly inform, remembering the feeling of being completely worthless, completely destroyed by him. “why are you doing this? you’ve already ruined my life, what benefit do you get from it?” 

“oh?” his eyes widen, and a smug look pulls up on his face. “what about that kiss in the lift last week? didn’t he sleep over as well? i was there till four am, and he never left the building. i thought you’ve already moved on.”

you grit your teeth as both anger and fear runs through your blood. 

you open your mouth, ready to hurl a string of vulgarities at him and protest against him being the world’s worst person, but someone beats you to it.

“pretty sure she already did, man.”

the psycho looks up from you and looks over your head, the smug smile completely wiped away and was replaced with a look of despise and anger. 

you shut your eyes tightly, sucking your lips in between your teeth as you tilt your head like you were in pain. 

it was hyunjae’s voice, and there was an almost close to zero possibility that he wasn’t with juyeon.

“mind letting my girl go?” 

there it was.

you frown to yourself at juyeon’s words, still being held in an awkward position while you faced the psycho’s chest, and his eyes still glued to the two boys behind you.

“are you deaf or do you not understand simple instructions?” you finally see hyunjae reach your footing, and hyunjae lays a hand on the psycho’s grip on you. the psycho only lets go because he couldn’t read hyunjae. 

you shift away quickly, rubbing your arm where his grip on you was marked with reddening lines. you back away and bump into juyeon, who only stretched out his arm in front of you, pushing you backwards behind him. 

“did he hurt you?” juyeon turns to the side, only showing you his side profile. 

“no...” you trail off, still rubbing your arm. the lines turn into light bruises, and you can only tell yourself that you were going to wear long-sleeved tops until they healed. 

juyeon turns back to hyunjae, who now had his arm pressed against the psycho’s chest. for a moment, the psycho looked like he was ready to eat you like a lion hunting its prey, and the only things in his way were hyunjae and juyeon. 

“go back to the dorms. i’ll come check up on you afterwards,” juyeon instructs. you watch as he takes large steps towards hyunjae and the psycho. you were already backing off, but his eyes never leave you while juyeon and hyunjae try to talk him out of being crazy.

your view of the psycho was almost completely obstructed by juyeon, and hyunjae was talking to him by his side. all of a sudden, the psycho lunges forward, pushing past juyeon and towards you. the sight causes you to jerk backwards and stumble to turn and run.

hyunjae grabs him by the arm while juyeon’s first instinct was to run back to your side, and before you knew it, juyeon has fingers intertwined with the collar of the psycho’s shirt, his fists balled up and their faces inches away from one another. 

hyunjae watches on from a short distance away, hands on his hips as he scans the situation. 

“does she look like she still belongs to you? does she look like she’s got your name plastered to her forehead? last i checked, i was the one who kissed her and spent the night with her, not you,” juyeon’s voice was low, and strangely calm. you wonder if he’s truly ever lost his temper at anybody. “oh, i forgot. you know, right?”

you were backed up enough to see the look on your stalker’s face, which was now contorted into an ugly mess of distaste, anger and disgust. 

“after all we went through, you take one year to get over it? so quickly?” your stalker scoffs, loud enough for you to hear, loud enough to push all the wrong buttons. 

juyeon shoves him backwards and pushes him so hard that he falls to the floor. before he could get up, juyeon has his foot on his chest, weighing him down. 

“you really need to think twice about what you do around here. not only did you choose to be a crazy, psychotic stalker in a public area, but you just had to choose the one corner with a fully functioning CCTV.”

your stalker, who was on the ground, looks up and around the area, and you could see the intensity of panic that filled him the moment he saw the blinking red dot on the camera mounted to the corner where the ceiling met the wall.  

“and unlike you, i’m not dumb enough to pick a fight with you,” juyeon retracts his legs and exchanged quick glances with hyunjae. “you can wait for your letter of expulsion to come in your letter box wherever you’re staying in school. and you better believe that if i see you anywhere near her, i’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life locked up behind bars.”

hyunjae turns and looks at you, allowing juyeon to finish his statement. he pats him on the shoulder, telling him to leave him alone. after a few moments of intense glaring between the psycho and juyeon, he finally backs away and follows behind hyunjae as they approach you. 

you were back in your room, rocking back and forth with your rear mounted to the floor. hyunjae was on the phone telling the other boys that he and juyeon were sitting out from tonight’s drink session because ‘juyeon wasn’t feeling well’, while juyeon was sitting opposite you, watching you spiral into your own hole of thoughts and despair.

“they’re not gonna buy the excuse, but they let us off the hook,” hyunjae locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket, crossing his arms across his chest. juyeon nods at hyunjae, and the older boy takes his leave. 

he shuffles nearer to you upon the door shutting, his legs on either sides of your hips and his feet under your bed. you were nearly leaning on it, with your knees hugged tightly against your chest. you were stuck between him and your bed, but who even cared anymore?

your vision was zoning out, but you feel him trying to take your arm when he notices the light bruises on your skin. 

“i’m fine,” you muttered sharply, hiding your hand between your stomach and your thighs.

“why do you stay out so late? and alone?” he lowers his head, matching his eye level with yours. “i thought you would’ve learnt your lesson from last week.”

“i didn’t think he was going to circle back and find me at the bar again. i thought he’d scour the whole school looking for me, then give up once he realises i’m hiding from him.”

juyeon pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and runs a hand through his blue hair. “but he knows where you stay.”

“and i thought he’d back off after seeing us--” you straighten yourself to finish the sentence, frustrated that juyeon was interrogating you and speaking the obvious. but then you realise you couldn’t say it without feeling butterflies in your stomach.

damn these feelings. 

juyeon raises a cocky brow, though not obvious, but it was easy to notice. a soft smile creeps up on the corners of his lips.

“so you were riding on the hope that he’d buy our skit?” juyeon shuffles forward again, now that you were sitting up straight and that movement created extra space between the two of you. you crane your neck backwards, the lack of distance between his nose and your eyes becoming painfully difficult to ignore. 

“i mean...” you look away, annoyed at his ability to turn such a horrible night into one of his little talking games. “if hyunjae or changmin saw it, maybe they’d buy it. i know i would, especially if i didn’t know the situation.”

“changmin?” juyeon was now grinning, his eyes halving into crescents. “all of a sudden, why changmin?”

“i was with a friend earlier tonight at the bar. she’s changmin’s cousin and i know the both of you are close.”

juyeon hums in acknowledgement, now scratching a spot on his cheek. 

there was an awkward silence in the air, and you couldn’t hear much besides your heavy breathing, split second flashes of whatever happened just about half an hour ago still running on repeat in your head. 

“do you want to know something?” 

you look up at him through the corners of your eyes, slightly afraid to look at him all too directly. there was something in his voice that was so alluring, like he was about to tell you a world-class secret.

“do i want to know?” you cautiously returned a question. juyeon chuckles and stretches both his arms forwards, resting his hands on the mattress behind your shoulders. your eyes widen as the change in position further narrows whatever distance you previously had, and if you weren’t already dying at the fact that you were caged between his arms, you were combusting at how close he was to you. 

so close, that you could feel his breath on your forehead.

“changmin and hyunjae would totally buy it.”

huh?

“do you want to know why? or are you capable of deciphering ‘why’ yourself?”

oh, god, no. please, no. 

“if i said no, could you spare me the information?” you ask, still refusing to look at him. juyeon chuckles again. 

time seemed to pass extremely slowly as you fail to react to him removing one of his hands from the bed, now reaching up to your chin and pulling it to face him. 

your heart picks up its pace again, and instead of fear that ran through you previously, you couldn’t ignore the butterflies that were filling your stomach. 

“if you’re about to confess, i’m begging you not to.”

juyeon’s smile disappears, and an overwhelming feeling of vulnerability and pity washes over you. your eyes don’t falter despite looking straight into juyeon’s. your words came out almost like a whisper, and if he wasn’t this close to you, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“why?” he asks quietly. 

you feel your eye brow twitch, and your nose turn slightly sour. 

oh, no, why do you choose to cry now?

“i can’t afford another heartbreak. i can’t afford feeling like i’m nothing again. not after i chose to give him my time, my heart... my body. only for him to use it against me, only for him to say that nobody will love me because of how depressed i am all the damn time...” 

you shake your chin out of juyeon’s fingers, looking away as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes again. 

you feel your tears dribble down over your cheeks, and before you could reach up to your face to wipe them away, juyeon beats you to it. but instead of wiping your tears, you found yourself stuck in another kiss.

this time, it wasn’t for show. 

there was nobody else around for him to ‘scare off’. 

you shut your eyes upon the contact, allowing all the cooped up tears to wash out from the crevices of your lids. juyeon has your cheeks cupped in his large hands that were probably the size of your face.

the touch reminds you of when you first kissed your ex-boyfriend. the feeling of melting chocolate fondue, the feeling of coming home to a warm cup of tea on a cold day--

you hurriedly pull away, panic slowly filling your heart again. “juyeon--”

“you begged me not to confess, but i hope that was enough to show you what i wanted to say.” juyeon interrupts, his thumbs now wiping away the droplets of tears hanging from your jawline and the trails left on your cheeks. 

“but i’m never going to be able to act like i’m in a normal relationshi--”

“so be it,” he holds up your face so you had no choice but to look at him. “whoever said i wanted a ‘normal relationship’? it was my choice to choose you, and so it’s my choice to be with you as you are.”

you feel the panic slowly wear away, and his words warm your heart. 

“give me time and i’ll prove that you’re the one i want to be with. i know it’s not easy to believe that with all the... girls chasing us around all the time... but i hope you’ll still give me a chance. one month ago, you told me you didn’t want an answer and all you wanted to do was to get it off your chest and get over me. i hope you haven’t succeeded.”

you feel your facial muscles relax at his confession, and the warmth radiating from his hands on your face made you feel so safe, so protected, in a long, long time. 

“i haven’t,” you gently shake your head, reaching up to pull his hand away from your face and draw circles on the back of his hand. 

juyeon gives you the warmest smile you’ve ever seen on him. he pulls you into his chest as you exhale all the worries from your heart. 

it was definitely going to take a lot of courage and patience, but if juyeon was going to do whatever he said he would, then you couldn’t be any more happier to try. 

[floatingbook]

On minimalism

- what I took away, as a lesbian feminist.

I became aware of minimalism as a movement, or as a trend in a way, some five years back, by the intermediary of the blog of Ariana, paris-to-go (the website went down a few weeks ago, unfortunately). My experience of it was heavily linked with exposure to the zero waste movement, and perhaps that is why I took away what I took away from the minimalist movement.

In many respects, minimalism is very pretentious. All this white, all the emptiness, a sanitized experience of life, no apparent space for wonders and treasures collected in nature, no splash of colour, no sign of the lived experience, no mess. Minimalist spaces often have a dead quality to them, a lack of fire. Hotel rooms, the lot of them, where you can pass for a night and which will fade quickly from your memory. You can’t really live in a space like that. It’s a suffocating space of rules and nothingness. And in a way, all the furniture and objects displayed in those minimalist spaces are often onerous, hence absolutely not accessible to a penniless student (me).

What the current minimalist movement allowed me to do, though, is to reflect on my personal experience as a consumer. What am I doing? What makes me tick? How do I picture life and what motivated that picture? Media representation, governments’ injunctions regarding the economy and the ubiquity of ads paint a picture of life as an endless cycle of consumption-discarding. As if the products of human work had no value beyond a few weeks, a few months, a few years in the luckiest of cases. As if, for the good of society, we needed to buy and buy and buy to keep the world from collapsing. In a way, this is true; the current economical model, at least in the West, needs our constant consumption to persist. However, it is also true that I don’t need to buy new clothes every few weeks, or dozens of pens, or a new phone every trimester, or twenty mugs, ...

I can’t afford many things. As a feminist, I’m very keen to achieve financial autonomy, and that means that I need to be frugal. And minimalism has helped me distinguish between what I really need to be alive, what enhances my experience of life, what I wish I could have only to follow trends, and what I simply do not need. I have achieved a form of distance from material possessions. I of course buy first necessities and survival items in a timely manner, but when it comes to strictly enjoyable stuff, I always take a couple of months of reflection. This applies to book and clothes for me. In the last two years, I’ve bought two shirts, one dress, and a short. I don’t need more, and I’m grateful for that knowledge.

More generally, minimalist philosophy can be helpful in curbing a recourse to make-up for example, by offering a template to phase out most of the products you use until you only have a handful left, if quitting cold-turkey is too hard. It also offers insight into living frugal lives, which are a first step to independence.

I’ve also realized, thanks to minimalism, that sometimes putting in the money is worth it. And by that I mean waiting and saving for hand-made, women-crafted pieces instead of buying an imperfect, mass-produced one.

A very important realization was that the life that is sold to us in most media representation is not the only way to lead a successful existence. The knowledge that you don’t need a huge house and all the things it entails to consider your life good was a freeing relief.

Finally, what makes life truly enjoyable are not things that you can buy or possess. It’s dancing with friends, making food with your mother, helping someone repair something, teaching a kid how to count, watching a bird eat its weight in seeds, seeing the leaves go from spring green to deep emerald to all the shades of fire to a dull brown across seasons, listening to a cat purr by your side. It’s the hand of your girlfriend on a rainy walk, it’s a two am phone-call because you’re on the other side of the world, it’s the smell and chuckle of the waves breaking on the shore. We need things to stay alive, stay healthy and safe, but the added value comes mainly from people and from nature. Money and things can make your life easier, but there is life and life.

So to summarize, what I learned from minimalism:

You don’t need a lot of stuff to live.

Most of the things that make your life enjoyable cannot be bought.

Time, work and intent make things valuable.

Most media is trying to make you miserable.

You should only go through with non-essential purchases if they’re still relevant and desired after a two-month reflection time.

A few women speaking or writing about minimalism for your consideration: Lefie, Erin Boyle, Janell Kristina, Courtney Carver, Youheum. A good rule of thumb for looking into minimalism: if they’re telling you to buy something, run away. Also, decluttering done irresponsibly is just adding to trash in landfills, so don’t rush to toss out your past acquisitions in the bin.

[septic-dr-schneep]

JSE - Given Time (Part 10)

Part 1: [X] Part 2: [X] Part 3: [X] Part 4: [X] Part 5: [X] Part 6: [X] Part 7: [X]

Part 8: [X] Part 9: [X]

A/N: Some people missed Part 8 before reading Part 9. Make sure you’ve read Part 9 before this, as the ending of 9 sets up all of Part 10!

After a long night of fitful stops and starts, Chase awoke yet again to the gnawing, snarling and howling of his hollow stomach. Grimacing against the complaints, he curled into a tighter ball and stuffed his face into his pillow, trying to re-smother the emptiness in dejected darkness.

What little snippets he could recall in his sluggish state were dreams of food, slipping out of his grasp just when he was about to bite down on it, and Marvin perched on the edge of a full table in the far distance with a malicious grin on his face. Now even those dreams were less than forthcoming; his stomach would settle for nothing but the real thing.

With a deep sigh he let heavy eyes crack open, chewing on the inside of his cheek as the gurgling and groaning continued. What would he do if Marvin refused to bring him breakfast, as he had lunch and dinner yesterday? Maybe Chase would stay here all day, huddled away in bed, feeling sorry and spiteful. His stomach lining felt like it was seizing up in knots and—was that turkey he smelled?

Any remaining notion of sleep vanished without a trace as he bolted upright in bed, zeroing in on the source of that aroma: a halfhearted sandwich on a plate by the door. Pain, shock and gratitude soared through him as he lunged for it.

The bread was soggy, the meat was sliced too thin, the mustard was in salty globs and Chase devoured it just as eagerly as he had the premium waffles. He hadn’t felt this sick and frantic since he’d refused Marvin’s food the first week, an eternity ago. How had he brought himself to endure it so long the first time?

What was the point? Why’d he go and starve me? Some kind of exercise in obedience: ask no questions and you get to eat? he wondered bitterly he licked the last of the mustard from his fingers. Well, if that’s the way you want to be, Marv, I’ve learned my lesson. But screw you anyway. With what small rebellion he could muster, he kicked a foot at the door—and promptly stopped dead when it clicked softly under the force.

No way.

Openmouthed, he ran his hand along the seam, a shaky gasp escaping him as probing fingers found slight purchase on the edge of the stile. It was cracked open just half an inch, even less, but it was open!

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t truly be happening.

Head spinning with a combined rush of euphoria and terror, he gripped at the edge. Thoughts of fresh air, the sky, the sun, freedom, home swept over him, swelling in his chest even as his mental voices clamored.

What if this was a setup? Chase could open this door and fall right into a greater trap but if this was his one and only chance, after so long…Whichever the case may be, he knew in his very soul that this would never happen again.

The door groaned softly as he coaxed it open little by little. A wash of air, musty but cool, raised goosebumps on his arms as weak light bathed him from above. He was faced with a hallway.

His heart thundered like a racehorse’s hooves as he clung to the doorframe and leaned out, peeking his head perilously at one end of the hall, then the other. Marvin was nowhere in sight.

Trap, trick, trap, trick.

Knees weak, he took his first quaking step beyond the threshold and froze, expecting something to spring or snatch at him. Nothing did.

Make a mad dash, scurry to the nearest door! his voice of vulnerability cried, piped down by his voice of caution guiding, Slow. Silent. Find out where you are.

Sweat beading down the back of his neck, he crept to the left, approaching what looked to be an open floor. The closer it loomed, however, the harder his chest clenched and his lungs threatened to give out.

It was unrecognizable yet somehow unmistakable. This was their home. This was Egos Incorporated—dimmer, distorted, like a reflection in a mud puddle.

The carpet muffled his steps but barely gave under his feet, matted flat and ingrained with fallen hair, mud and dark splashes that Chase didn’t want to identify. The ceiling fan hung still, dust clumped in chunks to strings of cobwebbing that dangled from its blades. Paper and paint peeled from the fissured walls, some of it faded, shriveling, some seemingly ripped away.

The kitchen was the only area remotely maintained—the counters discolored but dusted, the sink rusted but still offering water. The intermittent dripping, combined with the sputtering hum of the light fixtures, was the only noise to fill the silence.

The burnished wood dining room table was rotting, bowed in the center, and the former coffee table was nothing but a warped frame and broken glass. The TV screen was scratched and spotty and the piano sank sideways, propped on two hobbled legs and half-hidden under a torn sheet. Yellowed ivory keys were scattered around it in every direction.

In a numb, twisted reverie Chase turned away, only to flinch at the muffled crunch of glass and paper underneath him: a photo, bent and tattered in its frame. His mouth went dry.

His own face smiled brightly back at him…Marvin’s too, but there were other bodies in the picture standing with them, scratched and scribbled into obscurity from their chests up. Chase didn’t need to see their faces to know; even through the damage he could make out the stark red jumpsuit, the white lab coat.

Why?

Other pictures had been disfigured and littered nearby, some shredded into halves and thirds, others scorched to black ash. The few frames still on the walls were the ones that held pictures of him and Marvin alone.

Why? Why is it like he wants to erase any memory of them? They’re our brothers! They’re—

His voice of safety barged in, startling him out of his daze with a thrill of hope. Backdoor!

Heart leaping into his throat, he dodged the table and fallen chairs, sweeping the dust-laden curtain aside to see a gray, storm-sick sky through the smudged glass. The backyard was a ruin, every flower strangled and overrun by weeds, but he hardly gave them a thought. There was a lock bar strapped across the door, thick, rounded steel—the one piece of metal that wasn’t rusted.

If he could jump the fence, he’d be free to run for it. He could start the journey to the city, find some help there, someone to hide him until Marvin gave up.

H̴e̶ ̛n͏e͡vȩr̡ ͡wi̧ll. Panic provoking him, he snatched at the lock bar with both hands and strained, muscles quivering in vain. Fo͜o̴l! Loathing snarled. F̧i͘n͡d͘ so͟me̷thi̶ng͜ t̨o s͞hatte͞r ̡the ҉g̸lass!

Another frantic pan around the room revealed nothing immediate. The furniture was too decayed to hold up; it would probably break against the door rather than the reverse. Praying for a miracle, he jogged to one of the other closed doors and jostled the handle, relief bursting through him as it gave way.

It was a bedroom, three walls coated in gray, the other red. The bed may be stripped and the closet empty but the bookcases and their contents were untouched, not at all like the rest of the house’s unseemly state. Graphic novels, figurines, picture frames, awards—Jackieboy’s trinkets, all cleaned and preserved.

Throwing a set of novels from the top shelf onto the floor, Chase seized the stone block bookend, weighing it in his palm. If his aim was true and he put all his force behind it, this could do the job.

“Chase!”

“Ahh—!” Chase stumbled in his fright, falling against the bookcase and lobbing the bookend in the same motion. Marvin deflected it with a fling of his arm, magic embedding it in the far wall with a crash.

“What are you doing here? How did you get out?! Do you realize what you could have done?!” he bellowed, eyes wild as he charged in.

“No, s-stay away from me!” Chase yelped, diving under his outstretched hands for a reckless lunge to the door.

“Go back to your room!”

___________________________________________________

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@egopocalypse 

[imagine-darksiders]

Fluff thingy: kid from Haven gifts Strife a "lucky bracelet", a simple rainbow-colored string, which he /must/ put on or the baby won't let him go.

I love it!!!

---

“Mister Jones! Wait!”

The pitter-patter of tiny, bare feet fills the maker tree and draws the attention of several humans, each looking up from their respective tasks to watch in bemusement as their youngest member - a girl barely three weeks shy of her fifth birthday - rushes clumsily towards the tree’s main entrance, her too-big glasses threatening to fall off her face with each, hurried step. 

Jones - perhaps Haven’s most enigmatic resident - freezes with one foot on the step that leads down onto the exterior plateau and swivels his head over a shoulder, his dark eyes zeroing in on the approaching child who’d called his name. Quirking a brow, he notes that she’s tottering towards him with her arms stretched out in front and her hands clasped together as though she has something trapped inside.

Wary that she’ll fall flat on her face with every step, Jones turns and in one, long stride, closes the distance between them. He flashes her a playful grin as he lowers himself onto a knee and pushes his hood back, the wiry curl of his hair springing free of its confines. “Something you need, little lady?”

The girl very closely avoids colliding with his bent knee when she skids to a halt before him and instantly unclasps her hands to push the glasses back into their rightful spot on her nose. Patiently, Jones waits until she tips her head back to peer up at him, blinking several times to adjust her vision. Then, once she takes in his familiar face and slow, easy smirk, she returns it, albeit crookedly with a few less teeth in her jaw. “You can’t go yet!” she exclaims, thrusting a fist up at his face and unfurling it to reveal a colourful string of beads nestled in her palm. 

To tell the truth, Jones is taken aback. 

He’d assumed - as she has every other time he tries to leave Haven - that she simply wanted to wish him good luck, perhaps ask him to tell her parents where she is, a request that always garners several, damp cheeks from any humans who happen to be within earshot. He has never before, so far as memory serves, been presented with something as garish and bright as whatever it is that lies in her palm. So, naturally, he feels compelled to hold out a hand and ask, “What’ve you got there, kiddo?” 

The girl wastes no time in depositing her strange object into his waiting grip and then stepping back, her tiny chest still rising and falling from having dashed so suddenly from one end of the tree to the other. “S’a lucky bracelet!” she explains, pointing a chubby finger at it, “It keeps you safe outside!” The conviction in her tone leaves Jones with no room to doubt the validity of her claim. 

“A lucky bracelet, huh?” he chuckles, lifting it up to the light and twisting it about, grimacing at the myriad of gaudy bead all stuffed together in a nauseating heap of colour. “And, uh, where’d you get it?” 

Shyly, the human youngling rocks on her heels, muttering out, “Made it. Elanya showed me how.” 

“Did she now....” Jones raises his eyes to the maker at the far end of the tree, finding her gaze trained on him. Even from over here, he can clearly make out the smug grin that lifts her cheeks as she twirls a blonde plait around her finger, unashamedly watching to see what he’ll do with the girl’s little gift. 

“And....how come you’re giving it to me?” he asks, dragging his attention back to the tiny mortal just in time to watch her fingers fasten themselves into the fabric of his trousers. 

Her big, brown eyes seem to grow ever larger as she replies, stumbling over her own explanation, “Cos, um. It’s lucky! And you - you go outside lots, so... It keeps you safe.” 

Jones blinks, his easy smile receding. Of all the humans in Haven she’d want to keep safe, it’s the one who isn’t a human at all...

Shaking his head, he tries to hand it back to her, saying, “Maybe you should give it to one of the others. They might need it more than I do.” As he extends his hand however, the girl almost trips over her own feet in her haste to back-peddle away from it, shouting a firm, “NO!” that takes him by surprise. 

“You have to take it!” she continues to cry out, “It’s lucky!” 

And finally, Jones understands. 

The horror that filled her at the prospect of him leaving the tree without the bracelet doesn’t stem from her desire to see him wear something of her own creation. She’s horrified that he might leave without it because to her juvenile mind, the bracelet really is lucky. She really, truly believes that a few colourful beads on a string will protect him from the dangers outside. 

Every day, he learns more and more about human nature. He’d always known the adults are protective of the young, he’s seen that instinct rear its head time and again, ever since humanity first crawled out of their caves and discovered fire. What he hadn’t realised - hadn’t even entertained the prospect of until now - is that the young might be just as protective of their elders. 

“Huh.” Jones huffs out a soft laugh, earning himself the girl’s ire as she scowls at him, her tiny lips pressing together into a pout. “Sorry, kid,” he chuckles and reaches out to ruffle a few more knots into her tawny hair, “M’not laughing at you. I, uh...I just don’t know what to say.” 

Truly.  

To the youngster’s delight, he rolls up one of his coat’s sleeve and drapes the length of bracelet over his wrist, offering it out to her. “You know how to tie a knot?” he asks, watching her face light up as she nods enthusiastically, almost toppling over in her excitement to spring forwards and grab both ends of the string.

“Make sure it’s nice and tight!” Elanya calls from across the tree, “So’s it doesn’t fall off by mistake!” 

“Kay!” At the impromptu advice, the girl redoubles her effort in cutting off the blood supply to his hand whilst Jones tosses the maker a filthy look. Not that he’d actually ditch the bracelet, but she doesn’t need to know that. He may be a ruthless and baleful Horseman, but the thought of returning to the tree sans one, hand-crafted bracelet and watching that girl’s face fall, sits in his gut like a hot coal, much as he likes to pretend with all he’s worth that it doesn’t.

At last, the kid steps back, throwing her hands up and proudly exclaiming, “Done!” 

And indeed, Jones supposes, she is done. For the bracelet is successfully tied around his wrist with no less than four knots keeping all of the precious, colourful beads in their place. The Horseman, although slightly mortified that the new accessory might take away from his fearsome image, is too soft where children are concerned to be anything other than delighted. 

Sucking down his pride, he beams down at her. “Hey, thanks, kiddo.” 

After getting a shy smile in return, he tries to stand, but as soon as he does, she suddenly shoots forwards and collides with his legs, her head barely coming up to the top of his knee. 

“Woah, easy there!” he warns, stumbling a little when her small fingers clutch at the back of his trousers and she buries her face in the fabric, knocking her glasses askew in the process.

Affection, when given, is to a Horseman more unusual than a fish is to a desert. Affection given to a Horseman in disguise however, seems to have become something of a trend recently. He’s lost count of the times his shoulder has received a pat, or his hand has been grabbed by a human for nothing more than the inane purpose of shaking it up and down. And of course, there’s this expression of fondness - the hold in which he finds himself now. Humans refer to it as a hug, and he was forced to pretend he knew what was happening when he first received one from a woman whose life he saved. In the time since, he’s grown a bit more accustomed to being squeezed at random by the others, though that doesn’t mean he isn’t startled whenever it happens. 

This time is no exception. 

He stands where he is for several seconds, helpless in spite of his enormous, hidden strength and hardly daring to breathe until finally, the girl releases him and steps back to show off her toothy smile - well, a little less toothy after she lost one yesterday, an event that sent both the makers and himself into a near frenzy which subsequently had the older humans rolling about with laughter. 

Worried she might tackle him again, Jones eyes her warily and asks, “What was that for?” 

“A good luck hug! Just in case” she chirps as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. And with that said, she turns on her heel and scampers back over to Yarin, the gruff maker having found himself the youngling’s unwitting favourite, through no fault of his own. Apparently, human children are just ‘like that.’ 

With the beginnings of a gentle smile haunting his lips, Jones regards the girl for a while longer, absently thumbing one of the pink beads now dangling from his wrist. But all too soon, the world catches back up to him and he blinks, shaking himself from his thoughts. 

Pulling his hood up again, he hoists his scavenging bag up his shoulder and turns, striding purposefully for the entrance. 

“Hold up a moment, lad!” 

And just like that, his step falters. Jones closes his eyes and holds back a groan as Ulthane’s voice booms out across the tree and the Horseman has to school his features away from a frown before spinning about, finding the old maker still hammering away at the centre stone. “Aren’t you forgetting somethin’?” he grunts, sweat glistening on his brow. 

“Come on, Ulthane,” the human in disguise complains, “I don’t need an escort every time I leave the tree. Besides, I’ve got this now.” He holds up his arm, showing off his latest accessory. But the surly maker doesn’t budge, doesn’t even turn to look. Instead, he calls Elanya’s name and jerks his head over to the man trying to make a getaway. 

With a resigned grumble, she bids goodbye to the trio of humans sitting cross-legged around her and gets to her feet, reaching for the hammer that rests against a wall behind her.

Shoulders slumping, Jones curls his hands into fists. “You’re killing me here, Big guy.” 

“You go with Elanya, or you don’t go at all,” Ulthane responds far too casually, the vaguest hint of a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. 

Sometimes the temptation to reveal his true form and cause a tree-wide panic gets a little too hard to ignore...

[heli0s-writes]

Keen

Summary: The Bartons’ Vow Renewal Ceremony, Bucky’s exasperation (among other things), and some peaches makes for a fantastic afternoon.  Pairing: Bucky x chaoticdumbass!Reader Warnings: Swearing, sexual references. A/N: 1.4k words. Written for @cake-writes​‘s 1K Followers Celebration! Congrats, love! The prompt is based off this moodboard:

Bag of Tricks One-Shots Masterlist

It’s never the revealing outfits that catches Bucky’s attention.

The shredded tank top exposing a lacy bra— an exciting blend of sexy and sweet, or the skintight white dress from last Saturday’s outing that hugged so snugly he could see the cleft of your ass. He doesn’t bat an eye.

Silk robes and nothing else to mission debriefs. Boy shorts and a frayed crop-top emblazoned with a summer camp logo. Nothing. Once you answered your door in fishnet tights and a tank top, half pulling on shorts, and because Bucky was so used to it, he threw the book you asked to borrow onto your bed and left as if he never saw you.

Your clothing collection leaves very little to the imagination because frankly, you leave very little to the imagination. Bucky knows more about you than he knows about Steve and it would only make him uncomfortable if he didn’t know you for so long.

There is no filter between your brain and your mouth, and you have absolutely zero sense of propriety.

Between burping in the middle of dinner, clipping your nails and scattering them on the floor of Sam’s room when he irritates you, complaining openly about pissing out of your ass after eating an entire box of Triscuits, your prancing around in nothing but socks and a t-shirt doesn’t even register in his mind as inappropriate. All of that sounds like a Tuesday night when you’re applying a mud-mask and wrestling to get him to try it, too.

It’s the dress you wear to Clint and Laura’s 10-year anniversary that kills him.

A lemon-yellow and soft fabric with loose capped sleeves, flowing down to your shins and cinched neatly at your waist with a thin bow. The sheer material gives him a clear view of your legs inside when you dart through the beams of the afternoon sun.

It makes you look otherworldly and gorgeous. Delicate like you never are, and to his utter shock, it stirs him wild.

He finds himself situated between Steve and Sam and staring at the back of your head during the vow exchange. Your hair is still wet because you had overslept and sprinted down the road to get here on time. Luckily, the Barton’s had extra accommodations just a few miles away—Clint’s newfound hobby as a retired Avenger and rural dad. Unluckily, your heel broke off and you ran barefoot, dragging blood over the lush grass.

Water droplets collect on the nape of your neck and roll down into the fabric, soaking the back until it turns orange. He pinches himself because no way. No way is he thinking about dragging you behind the barn in the middle of a vow renewal ceremony and—

“Earth to Bonky!” Your fingers snap in his face. Three of your nails are chipped, and you shove your pointer back into your mouth, teeth nipping against it to tear it free. “Let’s get fucked up on some bubbly.”

He feels lightheaded because the cocktail hour has begun and that he didn’t even notice.

You grab him by the waist and lurch forward, throwing your broken shoes under the chair and pretending like they don’t exist.  

Picnic tables are set for the guests, thin off-white linen tablecloths adorned with the exact kind of decorations perfect for a ceremony in the back of the Barton’s farmhouse. Eucalyptus dollars and dusty green lamb’s ears burst from the entwined centerpiece running through the middle of each tabletop. Creamy garden roses are placed sporadically along the length of the vine, split open peaches and blackberries lie waiting to be tasted on polished ceramic plates.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky couldn’t care less.

Your teeth sink into a ripe yellow peach matching that damn dress and its juice spurts from your mouth and down your chest in sticky trails. Bucky chokes on his champagne and spits back into the flute and both of you look like complete idiots who either need bibs or need to be quarantined away from the real adults.

“What is going on with you two?” Sam mutters behind a stiff jaw as his eyes roll from left to right, “Y’all embarrassing me in front of the ladies.” Bucky puts a hand up in apology and steers you away from Laura’s shocked sisters and over to the rolled-up cutlery where he slaps a cloth napkin over your sternum.

“I was saving it for later; I can get a little slurp-slurp if I bend down far enough.”

“Will you shut—please, it’s distracting.”

A furrow of your eyebrows shushes him as you slowly dab at the liquid on your chest. In your other hand, you hold onto the half-eaten peach suspiciously. Bucky tenses when you look him up and down, taking in his stiff posture and the way he is fisting the crystal glass in his hand. “You… okay?”

“Fine. They’re just... gross.” He grunts.

You quirk your head even further and narrow your eyes at the way he stands, weight pressed on one leg, arms crossed suddenly as if he’s protecting himself.

Bucky grumbles incoherently, stares off into the distance and finds interest in hay bales and chickens. He unbuttons the front of his blazer and straightens his spine, anything to stand a little taller and ground himself. His hands begin to fiddle by his sides, and he fixes his tie in a moment of unease.

The grass shuffles beneath your feet as you step in front of him, blocking the perfect view he had of a yard he longed to throw himself across. You hold the peach out in front of his face with an amused grin.

The glint in your eye tells him the kind of trouble he’s in. “This? Oh, Bucky, this isn’t gross… It’s actually delicious---” Your bottom lip is rolled between your teeth as you gasp and moan.

He glares straight through your face and into The Abyss. You are milking it.

“—Mmm.. oh god! Juicy.” A squelch breaks the silence as your mouth sucks the nectar onto your tongue, “Sweet. Tangy. Wet, and so  soft...” Your tongue lewdly traces the corner of your mouth and up over the top of your lip. Maddeningly slow. “It’s kind of like eating…”

You place the fruit under your nose and plunge the tip of your tongue inside, flicking a few times at the edge of where the soft yellow flesh meets the thin layer of fuzzy orange-pink skin. “Kind of like eating pus---”

A hand spikes the peach out of your face and clear across the yard. When the two of you are finished following its trajectory as it pathetically rolls to a stop so far away it’s nearly gone, your heads turn back to see Steve hovering with a glower.

“Not. Okay.” He grits out, “Family event!” Steve yanks his thumb back to the tables where no one else seems to think anything of your absence, but granted, not everyone has super hearing. “Don’t make me come back here.”

Steve struts off with a final huff, giving Bucky a disappointed sigh—or perhaps a sympathetic one. Your smirk is barely hidden by the back of your hand as you watch Steve clomp away and then you erupt into laughter so hard you have to hold onto Bucky to keep yourself upright. Your wrist is splayed over his shoulder, forehead pressed to your own arm as you giggle.

Rising from your chest and mouth is the smell of ripe peach flesh, enclosing his senses completely. It is summery like the sun and the yellow of your dress. Ripe and sweet and tangy, just like you had said. Bucky licks his lips and groans when your breath blows over his neck.

“You think he--?” You ask quietly, turning so that the tip of your nose barely brushes against him.

Bucky shrugs. “Not like this is out of the ordinary for you.”

Another gust of air rushes down his back when you exhale, “True. Meet me behind the barn, Barnes?”

And then you’re off, extremely proud of yourself, bare feet sneaking away as quickly as possible so no one will notice your absence from the mingling. Bucky watches you disappear behind a row of trees and around the corner and shudders in excitement.

The two of you have been fooling around sporadically for the past month, but as you promised-- and he delivered-- nothing has changed. He still yells at you for oversharing, and you still clobber him with a box of Triscuits and a jar full of something for his face once a week. The only difference is that now sometimes he shows up half-dressed, too.

Bucky grins to himself as he takes a step after you. Then he pauses and heads the other way.

  Five minutes later, he turns the corner and finds the dress that started it all hiked up over your hips and you erupt into laughter again at the sight of two peaches in his hand.

-

tags: @whothehellisbucky, @serpentbaby, @badassbaker, @alagalaska, @crist1216​, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​

[myheroacademiashorts]

Demons

PROMPT: (found here)

“Why are you sleeping with the lights on?”

“The demons.” They muttered, burying their head in their pillow.

Pairing: Kirishima x Reader

Summary: After a quick phone call from one of your friends, Kirishima rushes to your room to find you sleeping with the lights on… All because of your quirk.

Rating: Fluffy Fluff FLUFF

Words: 1,598

Kirishima had never heard Uraraka so panicked before.

He had picked up the call without a second thought, seeing (Y/N) with a red heart flashing on his screen before swiping to answer the phone with a grin. He was hoping you were calling him to let you know that Uraraka had left after your girl’s night in, just so he could run to your room and sneak in some last-minute cuddles before it was too late. Lounging on his bed in nothing but his boxers was fun and all, but he’d rather have you with him to enjoy it. “Hey, babe! Ready for your Red Riot cuddle sesh, already?”

“Cute, but not the time for that. You need to get here. Now. Please.”

Kirishima’s smile slipped from his lips as he registered Uraraka’s urgent voice instead of yours, not even stopping to think about the incredibly embarrassing think he’d accidentally said to your friend as he hung up his phone and immediately bee-lined to your room, climbing the stairs three at a time and practically sliding past the front of your door. He debated on knocking for only a second, out of hesitance, but thought against it and instead shoved your door open, knuckles white around the silver knob.

Uraraka was perched on the edge of the bed, hands fluttering hesitantly over your blanket-hidden figure as you muttered and moaned. Wide eyes turned to meet his, and Uraraka’s expression held only worry. “She cancelled tonight but didn’t tell me why, so I came to check on her and-” Another loud whimper came from you, the corners of your lips twitching downwards in your sleep. “I wasn’t sure if I should wake her up or not, so that’s why I called you.” Uraraka was scared, honestly; you two were friends, but still knew very little about each other. About your past, or the hidden depths of your mysterious quirk, dubbed as “Hades” in the National Hero Analysis Dictionary. Essentially, you could see and speak to ghosts, raise an army of the undead, pass judgement on those passed to either send them to a Good place or a Bad one. You always waved your hand away at the thought of having to explain your quirk in detail, stating “Just think of me as your modern-day Queen of Hell” with a girly giggle.

At this point, Uraraka really wished she would have pushed the topic more.

Black tendrils began to unfold from your fidgeting body, licking at anything that came too close to your shivering body. One had hit your worried friend; not hard enough to draw blood, but still with the power to make one yelp back with a red mark. It felt more like being flicked with a rubber band versus anything else.

Kirishima rushed to your side, hesitating beside Uraraka as he glanced between her to you. “Thanks for the call. I’ve got it from here.” His smile was forced, but it seemed to be enough to convince Uraraka that the situation would be handled as she slipped out of the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

As soon as the pink-cheeked girl was gone, Kirishima dropped to you, taking Uraraka’s spot on the bed as he grabbed both of your shoulders with his calloused hands. Immediately after doing so, the tendrils lashed out at him, leaving an angry trail of bright welts in their wake as they tried to defend you. He gritted his teeth against the sting, instead pulling your body up from its lying position and wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Wake up, Princess. It’s just a nightmare, you’re all safe now.” This hadn’t been the first time that this has happened since you’ve started dating; before, you had dealt with your nightmares alone, waking up in a cold sweat and shaking with fear. The first time Kirishima had found you stuck in your fearful dreams had been on your one month anniversary, after accidentally falling asleep on the couch while watching a movie with the red-haired goof. Ever since then, he was always there to try to save you from your nightmares whenever they arose, which was sporadic. Some nights were fine, sleeping peacefully for weeks, before one night just happened to be unlucky. It hurt him to see you this way. It broke his heart.

The tendrils and their merciless attacks began to fade, as your muttering ceased with them. Droopy and swollen (E/C) eyes cracked open blearily, sweeping around the room before trailing up from the bare chest you had been hugged against, landing on the familiar and tired face of your boyfriend. “Kiri? What are you…” You trailed off, noticing the familiar marks that covered his body, winding up his torso and down his arms. Battle scars. From you.

Your eyes become sad as you registered what had happened, looking back up to Kirishima. “I-I’m sorry.” You hiccuped, burying your face into his chest once more so he couldn’t see your eyes gleaming with new tears. Patiently, the red hero waited for you to calm down, continuing to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he ran his hands up and down your back soothingly.

“Shh, it’s okay now. Your Red Riot is here, and I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

Your sniffling had mostly subsided, and weakly you looked back at the welts on his muscular chest, lightly tracing your hands over them as if they’d disappear under the pads of your chilly fingers. Kirishima still held you, but with a light tap on his chest, he leaned back, getting a better look at you. Your tears had stopped, at least, but you still looked sad. And also incredibly tired and cute, but he’d have to focus on that later.

“Was it bad tonight?”

You nodded shyly, looking up at him from underneath your lashes. He brought one hand to your cheek, caressing it softly as he stared at you. As soon as he did so, it seemed as if all of the negative emotions that lingered in your eyes washed away, and with a gentle sigh you shut your gaze to nuzzle into his palm. He cracked a smile, the tension that had plagued his shoulders disappearing as he learned you were okay.

You opened your eyes once more, piercing him with your gaze. “Did they hurt?” You asked. Your voice was soft but still husky with sleep, and he tried to ignore the want pooling in his stomach at how utterly sexy you sounded. God, he was such a teenager. How unmanly. “Only a little, Princess. But I’m tough! Strong as a rock!” He grinned, and raised his hand away from your face to use his quirk, as if proving his point. You giggled at his attitude.

Kirishima glanced around the room, as if just noticing something for the first time. “Why are you sleeping with the lights on?”

“The demons.” You muttered, burying your head into your pillow as you flopped back down onto your bed, flipping over so your back faced him. Kirishima frowned. He knew more about your quirk than anyone else in the class, and the one that (frankly) scared him the most was the fact that every full moon meant that demons crawled in the night. Their one free day on Earth before returning back to the Underworld, where they’d have to wait another month before getting the chance again. They weren’t harmful, per say; using their powers during their time in the Human realm practically meant instant death, at least according to what you said, but they were still bothersome. Especially since a lot of them wanted to, uh… court you. Kirishima knew you could beat all of their asses with one arm behind your back - you were that manly - but still, the thought of other men flirting with you despite knowing you were happily in a relationship ticked him off sometimes. Even if these other “men” were just pesky, dirtbag demons who had less than zero chance with you.

“Did any of them touch you?” A pang of anger laced with his voice, and you shake your head as you continued to cling to your pillow. You raised yourself up for air. “They were still annoying, though.” You huffed. 

Kirishima’s momentary anger was quickly replaced as he studied you, noting how adorable you looked when you puffed out your cheeks and pouted. You swung your attention over your shoulder at him, seeing his eyes slowly raked over your body as he finally noticed what you had been wearing to bed; a short tank top and scrap of cloth that could barely be called shorts. Your cheeks reddened, but nonetheless you flipped onto your back once more, your pout on full power mode. “Come cuddle with me, Red Riot?” You mumbled innocently, and pride shot through you as you noticed Kirishima’s cheeks flame up.

With his usual goofy grin, he bounced over to the light switch before diving in next to you, placing his arm under your head so you could snuggle into his bare chest more easily. When you had gotten comfortable, he pressed a warm kiss to your forehead, breathing in your familiar scent as he let his eyelids flutter. “I’ll always love you, Princess. Forever and ever.”

You giggled, pressing yourself closer so he could feel the vibration. “I love you more, Kiri.”

Silence enveloped you two, and just as you were finally drifting to sleep…

“And if any demons come in tonight, I’m gonna tear them to pieces.”

What would you do without your Red Riot?

[qandnoablog]

Titan (Marvel Imagine)

Title: Discovered

Pairing: There is no final pairing (since I follow along with the movies as accurately as I can) but [Y/N] does gravitate towards Loki

Warnings: Based on the movie - Avengers: Infinity War

Part: 13, [12], [11], [10], [9], [8], [7], [6], [5], [4], [3], [2], [1] Short story: [3], [2], [1]

Key: Y/N - Your Name Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Word Count: 2,627

Summary: Taking the fight to Thanos seemed like a straight forward plan, but [Y/N] knew first hand just how capable their enemy was. Now that he had more stones in his arsenal, she couldn’t help but feel like the odds were against them. Still, they are the Avengers! They faced impossible odds before. This time shouldn’t be any different, right?

Note From Author: Another part is now out! I should be updating more regularly now so if you all are still keeping up with the Discovered series, please make sure to check in every week :)

Part 13 - Titan

A lot happened after that.

After saving Strange, sending the pale alien out into open space, “knighting” Peter as an official Avenger, and finalizing their objectives, the group decided to face off with Thanos on Titan. Rather than bring the fight back to Earth, it was better to surprise him on his own turf. Of course, [Y/N] had strong objections with this plan at first, but thinking about it objectively, she had to agree. There would be countless casualties in a battle that Thanos had envisioned for Earth. Rather than allow such an event, it would be safer for everyone to have them face off the root of the problem far from their loved ones.

When the ship crashed onto the planet, the team was unprepared for the sudden landing. The metal broke apart right as it hit solid ground. Tony and Peter tried their best to steer the ship, though they didn’t know how to properly work the controls, while Strange and [Y/N] worked hard to protect the group from the impact. He utilized his magic to protect the area around them while [Y/N] used her powers to provide a sturdy barrier that draped around each individual person.

Everything was sparking, the machines all torn apart, but due to Strange and [Y/N]’s joint efforts, none were harmed. Though a bit disoriented by the landing, they were all safe and soon quickly got up.

Before the team could feel at ease with their situation, trouble had to come knocking. Right when Peter finished warning the team with another one of his movie references, an object rolled on the ground and stopped in the center of their small circle. [Y/N] could barely collect her thoughts when it suddenly opened, a flash of light and energy propelling each and every one of them backwards.

Her powers instinctively shielded her from the blast, allowing her to come out with no broken bones but with some minor bruises. She was starting to feel very annoyed, and immediately shrouded herself in a blanket of air and energy, promptly turning invisible before anyone could lock onto her.

“Thanos!”

A gruff and unfamiliar voice yelled out, a mixture of anger and impulsive rage, as Strange quickly protected himself with magic to stop the flying knives from finding their mark. The stranger roared, his skin a grayish color with odd tattoos, that looked more like engravings, all over his body. Before he could get another sound out, however, Strange sent out his cloak that swiftly tied itself around the new arrival’s head, muffling all his incessant shouting.

Iron Man and the stranger with a weird helmet fired at one another, the two flying with their tech. When it seemed like Tony had the upper hand, the helmeted man chuckled to himself as he pressed a button. Looking down at his chest, Tony saw a foreign object near his arc reactor that hummed with energy and a strong magnetic pull forced him onto one of the metallic objects of the ship.

“Tony!” [Y/N] called out, causing the helmeted man to be momentarily confused when a voice seemed to come out from nowhere.

She ignored the attacker’s confusion as she used her powers to help wedge Iron Man off of the metal he was stuck to. It wasn’t easy. The magnetic force of the object was surprisingly very strong. It was a joint effort to pry him off.

When Iron Man was finally free, he immediately rushed off to the fallen alien, who was still struggling with the sentient cloak. The moment Tony had his arm out, ready to shoot, the cloak let go of its prisoner and returned to Strange. Seeing this, the helmeted man grabbed Spider-Man, who was entangled by a strange, possibly electrical, rope and pointed his gun to the kid’s head.

[Y/N]’s heart skipped a beat, seeing her friend being held hostage in front of her, and quickly shot out a wave of energy to enclose around Peter’s body. She wasn’t sure how strong the weapon was nor if her powers were able to defend from a fatal blow at such close range, but if she was stupid enough to take on an infinity stone [Author’s Note: Part 7 - War], then she was damn well brave enough to take on a hit from an alien gun.

“Everybody, stay where you are!” The man yelled with the weapon still pointed at Spider-Man’s head, “Chill the eff out!”

[Y/N] was just about ready to send out her powers to wrench off the stranger’s arm away from Peter when the man reached over to his helmet and pressed a button. It quickly came off him, revealing a human face underneath that mask. She was stunned, surprised to find someone who looked human rather than an alien like his other comrades.

“I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where is Gamora?”

“Yeah, I’ll do you one better,” Tony instantly replied, his helmet coming off too, “Who’s Gamora?”

“I’ll do you one better,” the alien under Tony’s foot challenged, “Why is Gamora?”

Now this left [Y/N] baffled. Their demands were something that none of them were expecting. The sudden fight didn’t really startle them too much, considering they were now on enemy territory, but the reason behind the battle left all present very confused.

“Tell me where the girl is or I swear to you, I’m gonna French-fry this little freak.”

The moment that man said those words, something in [Y/N] just snapped.

“Do that and I’ll burst your body like an overfilled balloon,” [Y/N] warned, her voice dripping with an icy, murderous tone.

This was a first for her. She was even startled by how calm she felt even though those bone chilling words had exited her own lips, but upon further thought, she found this change to be natural. After witnessing so much, fighting alongside many people, and seeing first hand how some of her friends had fallen… How could she not have hardened her heart? Besides, in this line of business, killing wasn’t unusual. It’s just… She’d never actually openly taken a life. It was all in self-defense. Would she come out of this battle unscathed?

It wasn’t just her that was shocked by her words. Both her own team and those against her were also surprised. The group that had started this fight was startled to hear a voice without some sort of body. Clearly, [Y/N] was still invisible. Her friends, on the other hand, were feeling many emotions. Strange might not have known [Y/N] the way Tony and Peter had, but he still understood her character enough to know she wasn’t a hardened killer. That’s when everyone’s emotions shifted from shock to distressed.

Her friends were especially distressed when the two realized that the conviction in her voice held no trace of a lie. It was a promise, those words she said. Seeing how far she’d go, it was enough to show how much she endured this whole time. She did not want to lose any more of her friends. She did not want to sacrifice any more of her loved ones’ lives. Just how much did she see? Just how much did she suffer to come this far?

“Just try it, creepy disembodied voice,” the man taunted, calling her bluff.

The sad part was… [Y/N] wasn’t bluffing.

Before she could do anything rash, Tony quickly interjected.

“Let’s do it. You shoot my guy and I’ll blast him!” Tony indicated with his outstretched arm, his suit shifting into a blaster that was equipped and ready to shoot at the alien’s head.

“Do it, Quill!” The gray alien under Tony called out, his eyes never leaving the barrel of the blaster pointed right at his face. “I can take it.”

“No, he can’t take it!” The female alien countered, clearly worried for the gray alien’s life.

“She’s right. You can’t,” Strange agreed.

“Oh, yeah?” The man, Quill, scoffed, “You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and I’ll beat it out of Thanos myself. Startin’ with you.”

The moment [Y/N] heard his gun hum to life, her whole body went stiff. Her energy that was sent to wrap protectively around Peter began to twist and turn, being fed more and more power as [Y/N]’s focus zeroed in on her friend’s captor. She was just about ready to attack when Strange interrupted her murderous thoughts.

“Wait, what? Thanos?” Strange repeated, puzzled. “All right, let me ask you this one time. What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve?” Quill mocked, clearly not understanding what Strange was getting at. “What am I supposed to say? Jesus?”

“You’re from Earth,” Tony concluded, a bit annoyed and no longer feeling the need to fight.

“I’m not from Earth. I’m from Missouri.”

“Yeah, that’s on Earth, dip-shit. What are you hassling us for?” Tony questioned, now completely fed up with this man.

“So, you’re not with Thanos?” Peter asked.

“With Thanos?” Quill repeated, now completely confused. “No, I’m here to kill Thanos. He took my girl. Wait, who are you?”

He finally put down the gun, and [Y/N] followed and withdrew her powers that were building up, ready to explode. She was still wary of these strangers, but she now knew that they were no longer their enemies.

“We’re the Avengers, man,” Peter replied as his mask came off.

Hearing those words, Quill released Peter and let out an exasperated sigh. He was also irritated to hear that his long-awaited revenge had not been fulfilled.

Seeing this, [Y/N] dissipated the energy shrouding her, becoming completely visible for all to see. Those that didn’t know who she was were stunned to find a woman appear out of thin air. Now they knew where the “creepy, disembodied voice” was coming from.

“You’re the ones Thor told us about!” The female alien said.

“Thor?” [Y/N] exclaimed, no longer showing the icy emotions she felt when Peter’s life was in danger. “Did you say Thor? He’s alive?”

~

[Y/N] was very clear on the plan, but never was she so disgusted with the enemy that she wanted to abandon all logic and just bash his psychotic head into the ground.

His plan was sick. Just a snap of his fingers and millions - no, trillions - of innocents would just vanish from the face of the universe. No one would be spared by such a feat and yet that was his ultimate goal. To purge the universe of its over accumulating population so that none would have to go hungry to the point of extinction again. He acted like a prophet, sacrificing his time and efforts for the good of the universe, but it was just the twisted ravings of a madman.

Mercy? More like cruelty. Everything he spouted was inhumane. A monster in every way.

“I think you’ll find our will equal to yours,” Strange said.

“Our?” Thanos repeated in confusion.

That was the signal. Following that, Tony barreled into Thanos with a piece of the alien spaceship, crushing Thanos beneath the unimaginable weight of the metal. Dust clouds emerged from the ground and flew outwards from the impact, draping the vicinity in a thick layer of dirt and dust. But even that wasn’t enough to stop Thanos.

A purple glow shot out from where Thanos was hit and the metal broke apart, revealing himself to be uninjured and free. He yelled out in anger from the surprise attack, using another stone to change the metallic debris into a swarm of bat-like creatures that rammed into Iron Man.

Everyone worked together after that. There was no time or room for a breather.

Hitting in any possible way, propelling one another towards Thanos for another hit, and dodging so as to not lose their lives. That was the fighting style that everyone took part in. It was complete and utter chaos, yet still there was some semblance of rhythm. There was no gap to allow Thanos time to use his infinity stones. Even the surprising new addition, the blue woman who was also looking for the girl named Gamora, didn’t hinder their plan. In fact, she followed along and joined in on their battle. And no one seemed to question it. As long as it was an enemy of Thanos, she was deemed a friend.

Strange and [Y/N] were on support. He would portal several of the team towards and away from Thanos while [Y/N] used her powers to protect them from most of the damage on behalf of the others. Her hands were now bruised all over, taking hit after hit, but she disregarded that familiar pain and pressed on. The others threw punch after punch, causing Thanos to be bombarded with attacks from all around.

The goal was simple. Get that gauntlet away from Thanos.

Finally, all their efforts were paying off as they had succeeded in getting Mantis, the female alien on Quill’s team, onto Thanos and forcing him to go under. With everyone struggling to keep the purple giant in place, it was Tony and Peter’s job to pry off the gauntlet from the semi-unconscious Thanos.

But everything went to hell in just a single moment of impulsive anger and grief.

“He… He mourns,” Mantis cried as she felt the swirl of emotions going through Thanos’ head.

“What does this monster have to mourn?” Drax, the tattooed alien, questioned as he strained to keep Thanos’ arm down.

“Gamora,” the blue newcomer answered, realizing the truth.

“What?” Quill asked as he turned away from Thanos and towards the blue alien.

“He took her to Vormir,” she replied, “He came back with the Soul Stone. But she didn’t.”

Tony knew what those words meant and tried to calm Quill down. The whole team was already struggling to pry off the gauntlet from this monster, so it was unwise to let one act of anger mess up the whole plan. But even [Y/N] could sense the unrest within Quill that the truth had ignited. She understood the anger and pain he was feeling, but she also knew this wasn’t the time to act. Not yet.

“Don’t!” [Y/N] pleaded as she struggled to keep Thanos down alongside the rest of them. “It’s not time yet! Don’t!”

But it was too late.

Shit! [Y/N] internally screamed as Thanos finally broke out of his trance.

Everyone holding onto Thanos was flung off the moment he regained his senses. The plan was crumbling before everyone’s eyes as the monster regained the upper hand and separated the team into all different directions. Some fainted from the intense blow of the infinity stone while others were desperately trying to evade the onslaught of debris from the destroyed moon that Thanos had sent their way.

Tony tried to fly away in time but was caught up by a massive piece of the moon while Peter and [Y/N] quickly set out to save those that couldn’t dodge for themselves. However, before she could actually put in the effort of saving a few of her new comrades, something appeared below her feet. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening in the heat of battle, and she couldn’t stop what came next.

Gravity worked against her and just as [Y/N] recognized the magic at play, she heard his voice.

“You are needed elsewhere,” the culprit said, his voice cracking with exhaustion.

“Stephen!” [Y/N] yelled with all her might in both disbelief and fury as she fell through the portal to places unknown.

That was all she could scream out right before disappearing from Titan.

[PART 14]

Tags: @themeanestlittlewitch  @stressedandbandobessed7771 @moistpotatobear @fxckingfat​ @e7here4l

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                     Amari Hotaru, who is known by no other name;                                     a 22 year old son of Susanoo.                        He is a swimming instructor at Zero to Hero                                              and host at Sakura.

FC NAME/GROUP: Yeo Changgu/Yeo One (PENTAGON) CHARACTER NAME: Amari Hotaru AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 22 Years/March 27, 1998 PLACE OF BIRTH: Shodoshima, Japan OCCUPATION: Swimming Instructor at Zero to Hero/Host at Sakura DEFINING FEATURES: - Somehow almost always smells like the ocean. - Tall, tanned, fit, and smiley :)

PERSONALITY: Boyish, friendly, upbeat, and kind, Hotaru is a reflection of all the love he was given growing up. The easiest way to explain it being that his mother, uncle, and aunt had poured so much love into him, that at some point, all that warmth and tenderness brimmed over and spilled out into the world in the forms of compassion and care. He’s a whirlwind of joy, excitement, and best intentions. If someone were standing in the park with a “free hug” sign, not only would he take a hug, but he would join them in offering free hugs himself. If someone was caught in the rain without an umbrella, he would hand his own over to them, no problem. If someone showed up at his door in the middle of the night with nowhere to go, you bet your ass, he would take them in, and give them his bed in a heartbeat. Some would say that he’s a bit of an extreme altruist, others would call him extremely naive.

Despite the fact that he’s almost exasperatingly positive about everything, he can be just as insufferable when his feelings are hurt. He’s got a little flair for the dramatics especially when his feelings are hut. If it’s sunny out and there’s a sudden downpour, chances are Hotaru had his heart broken again. Or he watched another tragic show or movie. But he bounces back fast. Never one to dwell on his negative emotions for longer than a couple of days unless he’s really hurt. He’s an expressive person, an open book, wears his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see. He’s a little lovesick too. Love crazy at times with how he has a new(unrequited) crush every other week despite his better judgement. And a little chaotic with some of the poorer decisions that he makes. Overall, he’s a good person, but a little bit of guidance wouldn’t hurt him either.

HISTORY: tw: mentions/heavy implications of chronic illness, mental illness, and suicide.

Hotaru’s childhood had been a happy one. He had grown up healthy, taken care of, and though he couldn’t have everything he asked for, he knew he was loved. Now that he’s older, he can appreciate how lucky he was. He was given more than what some others get. Yet, that doesn’t change the face that there’s still a handful of things he wishes could’ve been different.

Though his mother did have a presence in his life, she wasn’t the one who raised him. As soon as he was born, she had given him over to her adoptive brother and his wife. The reasoning behind this decision only ever being hinted to him through cryptic words that skirted around the entire truth. It wasn’t until Hotaru was well into his teens that he learned why exactly.

“Your mother… Isn’t well, Hotaru…” his uncle had explained to him when he’d asked the first time. “She’s doing her best to get better, but right now she can’t take care of you… Hopefully when you’re older and she’s feeling good again, you can go on to live with her.” And that was that.

His uncle and aunt had taken him in without any fuss though. They treated him like their own, but made it clear to him that they weren’t taking his mother’s place in his life or trying to keep him from her. He was allowed to see her most weekends and she visited him as frequently as she could during the summer and winter.

Years later, when Hotaru is ten, the offer to live full-time with his mother arises. Naturally, Hotaru is eager and excited. He jumps on the opportunity without really thinking about it. Not that he doesn’t love his aunt and uncle, but his childhood wishes to be with her as much as possible finally comes true. Just as naturally, his aunt and uncle are apprehensive, but they’re supportive nonetheless. The couple couldn’t be any happier for the mother and son duo and wished them all the best.

Come the next summer, Hotaru’s mother whisks him away from his hometown and out to her modest apartment in Tokyo. The city is very different from what he’s used to, but with his mother by his side, he adjusts to everything well. The next few years are happy ones. He makes so many good memories with his mother that at times, he can hardly remember any of the heartache and pain that comes next.

He’s thirteen, when things start to change. His mother’s mood shifts and Hotaru finds himself helplessly watching as she withdraws from the world and him along with it. When he asks her if she’s alright, she dismisses his concerns with a gentle smile and a ruffle of his hair. “I’m alright,” she would say or, “Don’t worry about me, I’m just a little stressed.” Every time she does, he so desperately wants to believe in her words, but he knows deep down that there’s something she’s not telling him.

Around the same time, his powers start making themselves known, but he brushes them off as coincidences and they’re more or less shoved to the back of his mind. He has other things to worry about and worry he does. Between then and now, things get progressively worse and worse. It’s not until he gets his uncle and aunt involved that things improve again, but the relief and happiness is short lived.

He’s fifteen years old when he comes home from a swim meet, his aunt and uncle in tow, the older couple chatting with him about school and congratulating him on the silver medal he wears around his neck. When he calls out into the apartment to greet his mother and receives no response, but he dismisses it. Figures his mother is still resting in her room. But there’s an unnerving stillness in the air, like the calm before a storm, and Hotaru can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. He tries to keep his cool though, chuckles a little nervously when his aunt and uncle give him a worried look before going off to check on his mother.

The couple watches as he disappears around the corner and over to her bedroom calling out for her once more before he stops mid sentence and something thuds to the ground. They glance at each other. The scream that they hear next is so loud and so heart wrenching and so pained that it stuns them for a minute before they’re rushing after him.

The scene that they come across next is surreal. Hotaru collapsed to the ground in a fit of inconsolable tears and anguished cries hunched over his mother’s lifeless body. For as long as they’d known the boy, he’d never made a sound so heart breaking in his life. It shakes them up even more. Outside, thunder cracks in the distance and there’s a sudden downpour, but the only storm they can focus on is the whirlwind of grief that comes next.

After the funeral and his mother’s cremation, Hotaru moves back home and he isn’t himself for a long time. Years of counseling, therapy, and the support of his family help him along the way and he’s better for it, but there’s something fundamentally different to him regardless.

On his eighteenth birthday, his aunt, uncle, and a few friends gather together at the beach to celebrate. It’s a happy occasion, but he can’t help but wish for his mother’s presence there. The very same night, after returning home for the evening, his uncle pulls him out to the back porch and hands him one last gift. A modest sized box with an elegant looking envelope on top. There’s a bit of weight to it and when he opens it, it reveals a series of black journals. He flips the envelope over to see it addressed to him with his mother’s handwriting on the back of it. The young man looks up in confusion and his uncle explains.

“She wanted you to have these when you were sixteen, but we thought that it would be too soon after…” he pauses, eyes glossing over with tears that he does his best to blink away. He clears his throat, “I’m not sure what’s in the journals, but she wrote them all for you to read when you were old enough to understand… But read the letter first. There’s something important in there that she wanted you to know, I think.” He wishes the demigod another “happy birthday” before going to bed for the evening.

Hotaru sits there in the dark for a while, twirling the letter by its corners tentatively while he debates opening it like his uncle insisted. It’s a while before he can muster up the will, but he eventually does and the contents of the letter leave him speechless. He’s not sure whether the line of, “You’re a demigod, Hotaru,” holds any truth to it at first, but his doubts disappear when he manages to stop a sudden rain shower with nothing but a wish. Of course, he repeats it a few times for good measure, but the action confirms his mother’s words to be true.

After putting himself through university and earning himself a degree in honor of his uncle and aunt’s wishes, he was finally able to set off to the place his mother encouraged him to go to in her letter. He’s twenty-two when he arrives at Mount Phoenix and despite not knowing entirely what he’s there for, he’s looking forward to the new atmosphere and learning more about this side of his heritage.

PANTHEON: Japanese CHILD OF: Susanoo POWERS: Can summon and control storms for a short time. They are particularly powerful near oceans and salt water restores their energy.   STRENGTHS: He’s compassionate, kind, and caring, a good swimmer, all around good human. WEAKNESSES: Attractive people, sad animes, his own emotions, a little chaotic, cares a little too much sometimes.