#i love sunny for how it looks but sometimes the lighting does not mesh well with making gifs

[macden]

Maybe there is a lesson to be learned in all of this.

[dastardlydandelion]

Please post the sickfic prompt turned corpse disposal. 😂

sure! that one’s p bloodless, i can post that one. 

ao3 link 

content warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced spousal abuse, minimally described fresh dead body, illness description 

Billy isn’t sick.

Billy doesn’t get sick. He really doesn’t. Hasn’t had so much as a cold in years, albeit he’s claimed one as cover here and there whenever coke overuse made him maybe sorta sniffly and Neil started to eye him up like he might be suspicious.

Billy isn’t sick.

If he’s feeling achy, well, he’s just sore because Neil laid the belt on him pretty hard two days ago after he got sent home from school midday Monday, written up and suspended. If he’s coughing, well, it’s just because he’s been smoking more than usual. Neil’s been stressed out lately, so that means Billy’s stressed out too.

“No,” his father says sharply when Billy takes a seat at the breakfast table.

And Billy blinks at him, confused but careful.

“You’re not going to sit with us and cough all over the food like a human biohazard. I raised you to show more courtesy than that.” Neil gives him a stern look. “Go back to bed.”

“I’m not even—“

“Go back to bed, Billy.”

Billy hears the warning heighten in his father’s tone. He doesn’t argue. He hauls himself back to his bedroom and it’s whatever. He wasn’t really hungry anyway.

* * * 

Okay, so Billy is sick.

He got himself suspended because he felt something coming on. He knows his body. He was feeling off kilter and sluggish, uncomfortable in the chest when he inhaled too deeply. So he put his boots on the desk in history class and flipped the teacher the bird when she asked him to sit properly. Even went the extra mile and sneered, told her to blow him when her jaw hit the floor.

He figured it’d buy him enough time to recover without having to call in sick, or get in trouble for skipping class. A suspension was one indiscretion and only likely to invoke one punishment. Skipping multiple days would’ve been multiple indiscretions and more likely to invoke multiple punishments.

In retrospect he should’ve just called in sick because the whole point of avoiding that route was avoiding having to admit it, but he can’t really hide it. Whatever he’s got came on hard and fast, doubled-down by Monday evening. It hasn’t gotten any better. Billy feels bad all over, the cough is near constant, and he’s shaking with chills. Puts his leather jacket on before he buries himself under the blankets and still can’t get warm.

And the coughing, ugh, the fucking coughing. Billy knows he’s being loud. He tries to hold it in but he just can’t. Spasm after spasm squeezes his lungs until they’re aching for air. His chest feels like it’s full of swamp muck and all he can do is ride it out, clutch at his ribs until he makes it to the oxygen on the other side.

Billy should get up. He should make himself get off his ass, go buy some cough drops or at least refill his glass of water. He’s going to make it happen. He’s definitely going to make it happen…just maybe not yet.

He never really gets around to it. Spends most of the afternoon slogging through coughs and trying to get comfortable even though it doesn’t really matter which way he tosses or turns, he’s still cold to the bone, chest stabbing with every burdened breath. The day drags and Billy catches snippets of the other members of the household moving about, knows it’s evening when Neil sticks his head in.

“I dug this out of the cabinet for you,” he announces, holding up a blue container. “Vapor rub. It’ll calm your cough down. Help you sleep.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

His father pads across the carpet, sets the container down on Billy’s nightstand, right within reach. He hovers uncertainly, eyes narrowed. Opens his mouth to say something and maybe he does, but Billy doesn’t catch it, snapping upright to bury another flurry of coughs into his closed fist. It’s a forceful fit and before he knows it, his father’s thumping him on the back. He’s probably trying to help but the heel of his hand connects with one of the bruises the belt buckle left and Billy can’t stop himself before he flinches.

Neil retracts his hand, leaves without another word. Billy rakes in breath at the coda of the coughs, air scraping against his roughshod throat. He goes as deep as he can even though it hurts, snatches the container of vapor rub.

Billy begins to unscrew the lid and notices some of the ointment is crusted under the lid. It flakes off. This stuff looks old. Billy checks the date on the label. Sure enough, it’s been expired for close to a year.

He throws it across the room in frustration, watches it bounce off the wall. Lies back down and pulls the covers up to his chin.

At some point Neil bangs on his door and demands he cut out the racket, probably thinking Billy rebuffed his generosity. Billy’s too exhausted to bother explaining the shit’s expired. Instead he turns his face into the pillow and smothers his fits into the fabric, hoping it muffles the sounds.

* * * 

Sometime later Thursday morning, Susan knocks on his door. Billy contemplates pretending to be asleep. Really, he wishes he was. He’s feeling pretty rundown but he can’t seem to get more than a wink before he wakes up coughing.

But if he doesn’t answer it now, she’ll probably just bother him later. So Billy plods to the door and pulls it open.

“What?”

“Um,” Susan begins eloquently, blinking at him as she fiddles with the thin object in her hands. A thermometer.

“Neil tell you to do this?”

“N-No, but, uh. It’s probably a good idea to check your temperature. No offense, Billy, but you don’t sound so good and you’re awfully flush…”

“If I cared, I’d check myself,” he snorts irritably. “Try to stick that under my tongue and I’ll break it in half. Save your mother hen shit for Max.”

With that, he slams the door in her face. They’ve no love for each other. On infrequent occasions Susan will forget this and make some half-assed attempt to get closer to him. Billy’s always quick to remind her where they stand. It doesn’t take much.

Afternoon rolls around without Susan bugging him anymore. Billy isn’t a big reader but he doesn’t feel up to much else between increasingly productive coughing bouts that leave him hacking up gross, greenish globs into his small wire mesh trashcan. So he flips through some music magazines and the book he’s supposed to read for english class until he gathers enough energy to kick himself into gear.

He didn’t bother changing out of his clothes yesterday so he doesn’t need to change now. Just sprays himself with some cologne, figures he probably smells because he’s sweating nonstop. Discomforting drenching cold sweats like getting caught outside in icy rains, an experience Billy was blissfully unfamiliar with until Neil decided to leave sunny California behind.

He browses the small medical selection at Melvald’s, grabs a couple bags of cherry flavored lozenges  and a bottle of cough syrup. Covers a couple fits with the crook of his elbow on the way to the counter. He swallows the gunk that comes up because there’s nowhere to spit it into and scrunches his nose in disgust, feels like freaking slime sliding down his throat.

It’s the town cuckoo who rings him up. Or that’s her reputation anyway but she doesn’t seem particularly nutty to Billy. Hell, seems less weird than Susan does when she’s doing shit like talking to the spiders she takes outside.

“Time to go, Little Creepy Crawly,” she’d singsonged last week, shaking a daddy longlegs out of her tissue on the front porch. “Go be free.”

“You need fucking friends,” Billy had told her after the fact. Sound advice, he’d thought. Susan only ducked her head and disappeared into the next room.

Town Cuckoo gives the amount. Billy digs through his wallet and comes up two dollars short. Ugh. Fucking brandname linctuses. Shit’s a ripoff but there was no generic equivalent on the shelf.

She tells Billy it’s on the house, forehead crinkling just a bit as she studies him, eyes all melty with sympathy. Screw that shit. Billy isn’t anybody’s charity case. He gives her a pointed glower as he stamps a five down on the counter, takes the two bags of lozenges, and leaves.

He eats through half of the first bag until his throat tingles with menthol and artificial sweetness, and actually manages to sleep for a few solid hours. He knows it’s been hours because when he wakes himself coughing, it’s dark out. Nighttime.

Billy curls inward with the spasms, tries to catch his breath between stabbing pains. This sucks so much. He’s hacking up more gunk. Attempts to rub some of the discomfort from his heavy, congestion leaden chest to no avail.

He just keeps coughing and coughing and he knows before long, Neil’s going to get in his shit about the noise so he forces himself to throw off the covers. His bruises are still healing. He doesn’t need any more.

Billy crams his feet in his boots and drags himself down the hall. To his surprise, Susan’s sitting at the kitchen table. She’s crying. The sobs wrack her whole body the way the coughs wrack his and her cheeks are blotched cherry red just like his lozenges, tear tracks shining under the kitchen light. It throws him, really. He’s lived with Susan for years and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her cry. She just. Doesn’t show much emotion at all, let alone displays like this.  

Billy watches it the way he’d watch a car crash. Susan doesn’t even notice him until he’s coughing again. He curls his fist around his mouth, muffles them as best he can. Fumbles for his car keys when he’s made it through to the other side.

“Where could you possibly be going?” Susan asks, her voice thick, like there’s a bubble in her throat.

Maybe Neil hit her. Billy’s seen it so he knows it happens sometimes even though he’s pretty sure it’s not often. Not like how Neil hits him. Or hit his own mother. Susan is probably Neil’s favorite, obedient like a well trained dressage horse following all of his cues. Isn’t anything like his own mom who defied Neil like a wild mustang he couldn’t tame, who went braless and smoked hash with the hippies, screamed her lungs out at Neil in furious harpy volumes and called him names no matter how mad it made him. Who did her best to give back as good as she got even outmatched, even if it made him madder, throwing things or fists or swinging Billy’s Little League bat.

Susan is submissively behaved and tepid tempered, always wears her bra under the clothes Neil buys her in the fashions he prefers her in. Susan speaks softly and sweetly, never stays out unscheduled and doesn’t smoke anything at all, always smells like floral perfumes and lotions, never ever, ever like cigarettes or marijuana or other men’s cologne. When Neil hits Susan she goes slack and sloth and silent, and does not lift a finger to fight. It is the only thing she and Billy have in common.

“Nowhere,” he answers. “Gonna sleep in the car before Neil gets on me about making noise.”

“Billy, it’s too cold for that…besides, Neil isn’t going to wake up yet.”

“How do you know?”

What, does Susan think she’s a fucking fortune teller now?

Sure enough, she doesn’t have a straight answer for him. She stumbles over syllables that don’t shape into sentences and the last thing Billy feels like doing is indulging her.

“Pfft. That’s what I thought. By the way, you’re ugly when you cry.” Billy glares at her until she turns away, timid, bowing her head. He heads out to the Camaro, gets in the driver’s seat and pulls it back.

Yeah, it’s cold out but he can’t get warm inside under the blankets anyway. Neil’s already in a bad mood. He’d only barked about the racket last night but his father’s bite is worse than his bark and Billy knows better than to expect a second warning.

* * * 

Friday morning, the frosty air scrapes Billy’s throat raw and makes him cough so, so hard. He’s beyond done with this shit, fuck everything. He takes shallow breaths to avoid the pangs of going too deep. The coughing still brings up gunk he spits out and he can feel the congestion crackling in his chest like thick, goopy molasses drowning his lungs, sticking between every rung of his ribcage.

It’s actually. Kind of. Beginning to concern him.

Is being sick normally like this?

Billy hasn’t been sick in so long, he seriously doesn’t know. But it’s been days and he’s not feeling any better. He feels worse. He really does. Breathing has become a grueling travail. Even to his own ears, his exhales sound wet and ratty. The coughing was a nuisance when it first came on but now it’s just downright exhausting.

But.

Well. He’s gotta be okay. He’s too young to be like, seriously sick. It’s probably just one of those things where it’s going to get worse before it gets better. A lot of things are like that, right?

Everything gets worse before it gets better. He’s fine. He’s definitely fine.

Billy goes inside. Everyone’s at the breakfast table and he doesn’t take a seat because he’s a biohazard and Neil already looks dour. Susan’s pouring him coffee. Max nibbles at a piece of toast. She has a cut on her cheek that wasn’t there when Billy saw her yesterday. Doesn’t look bad, just a simple scratch stretched under her eye, but when he peers closer is that…is that a bruise?

Yes. It’s pretty small. Faint. He would’ve missed it entirely if the thin red thread of her cut wasn’t so stark against Max’s pasty skin.

He’s smart enough not to ask in front of Neil. He doesn’t say anything. Gets the juice from the fridge and pours himself a glass. He’s two sips in before he has to set it aside, covering his mouth as another fit takes hold.

Neil is glaring when he makes it through. Right. Don’t cough around the food. Billy isn’t even sitting with them but whatever. He’s not gonna poke the bear. Heads off to Max’s room and waits.

Eventually she comes in to get her backpack, frowning at his presence. “What’re you doing in here?”

“What happened to your face?”

“Geez, Billy, you sound terrible.” Her nose crinkles.

“I asked you a question, Max.” Billy impatiently twirls his finger, slightly annoyed. He already knows he sounds bad, doesn’t need to be reminded.

Max turns away from him with a shrug, starts stuffing her textbooks into the bag. “I fell on the pond yesterday when I was playing with my friends. Where I fell…the ice wasn’t smooth. It was rough and it scratched.”

Billy narrows his eyes and measures her up. It isn’t a particularly unlikely story. But he wants to be sure.

“You’d tell me if it was Neil, right?”

“…of course I’d tell you if it Neil.” Max looks up from messing with her stuff and faces him with clear resolution in her gaze. “Neil hits you all the time so if he hit me, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

Billy keeps his eyes on her as he goes over what she said. She doesn’t look like she’s lying. She doesn’t sound like she’s lying. Besides, Neil’s striking hand probably would’ve left a bigger bruise and he can’t place anything on it that would’ve scratched her skin like that. Neil’s fingernails are short and blunt, smoother than Billy’s, which get jagged when he bites. He doesn’t wear rings beyond his wedding band, and his is smooth silver, no shiny rock cut in the middle like Susan’s.

“Alright,” he concedes, turns to leave.

The coughing fit hits heavy, like a wrecking ball to the chest. Billy hangs onto the doorframe with one hand, covers his mouth with the other. It’ll pass. It’ll pass. It’ll pass.

Christ, he’s sick of being sick.

It passes. Billy keeps his grip on the doorframe as he works on drawing in air.

“You okay?” Max asks from behind.

And he can’t actually answer that just yet, still catching his breath.

“You sound really gross, like you’re literally dying.”

“I’m not…I’m fine…even run you to school, if you want.” Billy relaxes his grip on the doorframe and turns back to her.

“Oh.” Max perks up at that, eyes bright. “Yeah, can you?”

She lowers her voice as she adds, “I’m mad at my mom. I don’t really wanna ride with her.”

Billy doesn’t ask what for. It’s probably something stupid. Susan getting after her for not zipping up her coat or touching yellow snow or some other dumb shit. He’s too tired to care, really.

“Sure I can, s’what I just said, isn’t it? Finish getting your stuff together, bus leaves in five.”

* * *

Billy does’t go home for a long time. After dropping Max off, he just sits in the parking lot for awhile, rests his head against the steering wheel while the heat blasts from the vents. He’s got it all the way up and he’s so sweaty his hair’s plastered to the back of his neck, but he’s still freaking cold.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Or.

Okay, maybe he does.

Eventually he pulls out of the parking lot, drives around listening to music just to be doing something. Winds up in another lot, an empty lot, where the rumor is they’re going to build a mall next year. Billy hopes so. Hawkins is mind-numbingly boring. Sometimes he just wants to scream about it, set fire to the fucking cornfields and scream at the top of his lungs.

His lungs aren’t really up to screaming right now though. Neither is his throat, really, tender from coughing spasm after coughing spasm tearing it up. Billy doesn’t know if he’s even been this sick.

He’s even considering bringing it up to his dad, maybe even. Asking Dad for help. And that.

That means he’s either desperate or delirious, and neither is a particularly reassuring thought.

Fuck.

Billy despises the fact it even crossed his mind. He can’t go to Neil. He won’t. That’s stupid. Neil would probably just dig him out some more expired vapor rub. Definitely wouldn’t take him to a doctor, at least not until the bruises heal. Maybe he’d compromise and get him the cough syrup Billy didn’t have enough cash for…

Between musings, Billy finds himself squeezed in another fit that pummels his chest like invisible fists. It’s so bad he’s left battling for just a breath of air, so forceful for one very scary second he’s even worried he won’t get it. That the coughing will go on and on, and he’ll never take another breath again. That they’ll find his body right here in the empty lot where maybe the mall will be one day.

Except the coughing eventually does subside and Billy does manage to get some air. But the fit spooks him a little. Takes enough out of Billy that he decides he’s probably going to have to go to Neil. Shit.

He puts it off as long as he can. Doesn’t even go home until he knows everyone is done with dinner. To his surprise, Neil isn’t watching tv. Billy heads down the hall. The light is on under Max’s door. The light is on under the master bedroom door too. Billy hesitates before knocking.

Does he really need to go to Neil?

Maybe he was exaggerating when he was worried earlier. Billy’s hand retracts from the door. It's promptly clamped around his mouth for what must be the hundredth time. He’s hacking hard into his palm, chest throbbing.

He doesn’t actually mean to open the door. But he grabs the knob for support and jerks when the metal is shockingly cold under his fingers. The next thing Billy knows, he’s stumbling over the threshold.

Susan whips toward him, eyes as wide as dinner plates and mouth frozen open in horror. At first Billy thinks it’s him. She’s so disgusted she’s horrified by him and his biohazard germs and any second Neil’s going to pick his head up from the bed and bark at Billy for intruding without so much as a knock, and then—

Then his eyes fall to the long bloodied baiting needle in Susan’s suddenly trembling hands.

“S-Self d-defense,” she quavers, backing away, that needle outward in her shaky, shaky hands almost like she thinks Billy’s going to advance on her. “It was s-self defense, B-Billy, I had to.”

Because Neil’s still motionless, facedown on the bed even though his son’s still coughing, making a racket and expelling biohazard bacteria in his very bedroom. He’s still coughing, fuck, his eyes are watering, but they aren’t so watery he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Billy plants a hand down against the dresser and tries to breathe.

“Self defense,” he rasps at the end of the fit, blinking at the acupuncture kit open inches away from his hand on the dresser.

“S-Slightly preemptive self defense,” Susan amends, swallowing. “Make no m-mistake, I had to. I had to, he— he was right on the verge of a b-blowup. You know your father, Billy.”

That is true. Billy knows his father well. He doesn’t speak to Susan as he shuffles up to the bed. Gulps down some of the gunk in his throat, grazes his father’s cheek with his fingertips. There’s blood welled up in a hole at the base of his skull but he’s warm, kinda, so maybe Susan didn’t kill him after all. He moves his fingers to feel for a pulse.

It isn’t there. Neil’s dead? Neil’s really dead?

“Dad?” he tries. It comes out a hoarse squeak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Dad? Dad, c’mon.”

Billy jostles his father’s shoulder. It yields no response. The bare skin is still warm, deceptively so. There’s not so much as a flicker of life beneath it.

“Holy shit,” Billy gasps.

Susan presses back against the wall, eyes still very wide, clutching that baiting needle so tight her knuckles are blanched. Her hands shake and shake.

“What are you going to do?” she asks in a whisper.

“What am I going to go?” Billy echoes. “I— I don’t know! What are you going to do? Call the cops?”

Because even if her self defense was preemptive, to use her description, maybe it’d still fly. Billy has bruises. Maybe Susan has some too hidden under that deep cranberry dress.

“Cops?” Susan’s mouth tightens as her head gives a firm shake. “Of course not. Don’t you know what police are like? Your father would’ve fit right in.”

Billy considers this as he coughs, stuffing them into the sleeve of his leather jacket. He can’t say his own experience with the law has ever been positive. And Neil was a security guard. What’s a security guard if not a wannabe cop?

“You planned this,” Billy heaves out when he’s done coughing.

“I’m….I mean, y-yes, but I—“

“What was your plan?” Billy interrupts. “Where were you going to go from here?”

“I didn’t expect you to show up,” Susan says, soft and frowning.

“I live here,” Billy points out and he laughs. Strange, strained laughter peals out of him until it triggers another bout of coughing because. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Oh, Billy…do you want some water? Maybe you should sit down.”

“Where?” he rasps between coughs. “Next to my dead dad?!”

“Keep your voice down,” Susan urges, waving the needle like a conductor’s baton. “Max is still awake.”

Billy wipes the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. Stares at Susan as he does his best to take even breaths.

“You’re wheezing.”

“You’re deflecting,” he fires back. “What are you going to do?”

“Um, uh…chop him up,” Susan admits quietly. “I’d p-planned to chop him up.”

“That’ll make a mess,” Billy blurts out, blunt.

“Messy, yes, but it’s the easiest way. I can’t exactly carry him.”

Billy touches the small of Neil’s bare back, skims his fingertips between hair thin acupuncture needles. He probes at the small of his own back, winces when dull pain pulses through the bruise. His throat is thick with something other than phlegm and his heart is racing rabbity fast. In this moment, Billy makes a decision.

“Not by yourself.”

Susan gapes.

“Where we taking him?” Billy asks.

“I…I honestly didn’t have an exact location mind, but farther away. Not here in Hawkins, the town is too small.” Susan swallows again and tugs at her sleeve. “I planned to bag his parts in pieces and drive a few hours out and spend the night disposing of the bags in different areas.”

That makes sense, he thinks.

“Sometimes I go to this gay bar about two hours away. Pretty big dumpster in the back.”

Billy tries to hit it at least once a month, if he can save up enough of his allowance for gas. Sometimes he collects enough chump change from idiots at school who forget to close their lockers, and isn’t above duping people outta their dough by turning on the charm, either. His interest in girls isn’t exclusive, he finds a helluva lotta guys interesting too. It’s just nice to get out of fucking Nowheresville even on the nights he doesn’t end up fooling around with anybody.

Susan looks absolutely bewildered.

“Gay bar,” he repeats slowly. “You know. Pride pub, homo hub?”

“I know what a gay bar is, Billy. Why on earth are you going to one?”

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m secretly a drag queen bingo champion,” Billy scoffs in annoyance and it turns into a cough. The one sets off a fit.

“Billy, um…I don’t, um. I’m not judging your preference in partners or your private life, but you’re too young to be going to the bar. Any bar. It’s not legal, you’re a teenager.”

Jesus, he can hardly breathe. He feels like he’s going to fall over. Maybe he actually should’ve sat down next to his dead dad.

“Oh dear. I’m— I’m going to get you some water.”

Billy doesn’t fall over. He has good stamina. He’s hard to knock over, prides himself on that fact. He makes it through the fit upright. His chest is sore from the stabbing and he’s a little dizzy, perhaps from fatigue or breathlessness, but he’s steadfast.

Billy accepts the glass Susan holds out to him upon her return. Her fingers feel like icicles as they brush his and he suppresses a shiver. Takes slow sips and finds a little relief. Eventually sets the glass down on the dresser when he’s done.

“Technically, it’s not me who goes to the bar. You’re right, I’m not twenty-one yet. But Jason Scott on the other hand, well, he’s twenty-five.” Billy fishes his wallet out and frees his fake ID from its fold. “Looks pretty legit, right?”

Susan silently studies the piece of plastic and worries her lip between her teeth.

“But we don’t actually have to go into the bar to put my dad’s body in the dumpster anyway. I mean, going inside would really be a pretty bad idea…”

“Indeed it would, but I’m glad you showed this to me. It wouldn’t be smart to put Neil anywhere you or I associate with at all. But if you’re not actually associated, it’s an option.”

“It’d take less time than the way you were gonna go about it. Cleaner too.”

Susan nods her agreement. “However, I still might…mm, Billy. I’m not sure if you’re going to like this. But in order to prevent him from being identified, I think I’m going to chop off his head…and his hands. Well, perhaps those I’ll just burn with the clothes iron, um. Either way, his fingerprints need to be destroyed.”

Billy’s gut lurches as he soaks it in. It sounds logical. He can’t deny that, but something about the idea of his dad’s decapitation doesn’t sit. Kinda gives him the heebie-jeebies. And that’s weird. That’s really weird because he’s okay with everything else.

Well.

Okay, maybe he’s not okay with it, but. He understands it. It’s Neil. Of course he understands the bruises she may or may not be hiding, the fear in her heart regardless.

“Do you have to chop his head off? Can’t you just smash his face in?”

“I considered that,” Susan says, nodding again. “Those cast iron lion bookends on the shelf are nine pounds each. I weighed them this morning.”

Billy likes the sound of that better. Neil is going to be dead and disfigured either way. He’s not sure why it makes a difference. Maybe it doesn’t, really. He thinks he might have a fever. Maybe the fever’s just getting to him, making him a little loopy and pulling his thoughts in less than rational directions.

“I could do that part,” he offers. It’d probably take him less time to bash Neil’s face in than it’d take Susan. He has more physical prowess, after all, more power to put behind the blows.

“Are you up for that?” she asks, eyeing him skeptically.

“Yes,” he snaps, somewhat defensive. He’s sick but he’s not helpless.

Billy’s claim isn’t undermined by the brief bout of coughing that overtakes him. He halts the reflex to clutch his ribs. Not now, not in front of her. Especially not with what they have to do.

“There’s two bookends,” Susan points out, seems a little nervous as she watches him cough. “We could take turns.”

With that, she disappears from view. Billy hacks some more gross globs into his hand and for convenience’s sake, just wipes it off on his jeans. When Susan comes back, she has one of those big black contractor trash bags. Spreads it out on the bed beside Neil’s form.

They roll him together and Billy doesn’t know what to make of what he feels when he actually sees his father’s face, features devoid and dead. Very, very dead. Tears do not sting his eyes. They just well up watery because he’s coughing again, battling for breath again, so, so wrung and exhausted, lungs like sodden sponges sopped with sputum.

Then he’s holding the bookend, cast iron artistically sculpted, the maned king of the jungle bearing his teeth in a roar. Billy looks at his father’s dead face and hesitates for only a heartbeat. When he brings the heavy object down, he puts all the force he can muster behind it and it makes an utterly atrocious noise Billy will never forget, but—

Some part of him has always wanted to do this. For that part of him, it is the only thing he’s ever truly wanted. And when Susan takes her turn Billy watches her face and realizes, oh, going slack and sloth and silent with the taste of Neil Hargrove’s hand isn’t the only thing they share at all.

* * * 

They wait until late to don gloves and roll Neil up in the shower liner. They stuff him in the bed of his own truck for transport. Billy takes the torso end because it’s heavier, Susan hefts him under the legs. Billy drives because he knows the way even though it’s the last thing he feels like doing.

It goes mostly okay. He only has a paroxysm bad enough to make him pull over once.

Susan reaches across the seats and rubs his shoulder. Billy’s too busy getting his breath to shrug her off.

“I’m sure you’re not going to love this idea, but I think it’s time to see a doctor. This could be bronchitis, Billy, or even pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia isn’t real,” Billy grouses tiredly. “It’s like the boogeyman. Just some story old people made up so their grandkids wouldn’t play in the rain and track mud all over the house.”

“Uh…um.” She blinks owlishly, forehead creasing. “No, that’s not quite accurate…”

“I’m screwing with you, Susan.” Because that’s easier than conceding to her.

It would’ve been one thing with Neil. As fucked up as things were, Neil was his dad. Neil was supposed to take care of him.

But Susan. Susan is different. Susan is mostly Max’s weird mom who displays about as much emotion as a mannequin whenever she isn’t (wasn’t) dancing on Neil’s puppet strings or talking to the spiders as she shakes them free from soft tissues. Albeit tonight is a game changer. They’re very literally partners in crime now.

“We could even go to the ER after this,” she suggests uncertainly, wary edge to her tone.

“That’s for emergencies. I can wait.”

“If you’re sure.” Susan hums in her throat and draws her hand away.

They have good timing. The bar’s been closed for almost an hour by the time they get there and all the cars have cleared out. Billy backs up to the dumpster so he and Susan can stand on the bed and lift Neil in that way, rather than having to drag his deadweight out and struggle to raise his cumbersome bulk up over the side.

He doesn’t want to be out here any longer than he has to. Whole thing gives him the heebie-jeebies. He feels like a cop is about to pull up any second now and frankly, it’s cold as fuck. He’s cold as fuck.

Not as cold as the unearthly chill that seems to pierce through the plastic liner when Billy lifts his father’s trunk for the second time tonight.

“Do you feel that?” he irresistibly asks Susan, watching her adjust her grip on Neil’s legs and searching her face for the eeriness he’s feeling.

“Feel what?” Susan asks, frowning.

Death itself? Billy doesn’t know.

“Nothing, it’s…just cold, I guess.”

“Oh, Billy, I think you have the chills.”

And he knows he does but it’s not the same thing. He doesn’t comment any more on it. Together they get Neil up on the metal rim of the open dumpster, push him over. Garbage crunches and crinkles beneath his deadweight. Billy feels another coughing fit coming on and manages to suppress it until he gets back inside the truck.

“Do you want me to drive home?” Susan asks.

“No. I know the way better, it’s easier if I do it.”

“You could, um. I mean, you could direct me if I get a little turned around. You’re looking pretty tuckered out.” It’s dark but Billy can hear the frown in her voice.

“Alright,” he sighs out. “Fine.”

Because she’s not wrong. He’s drained at this point. Shoving his dad’s body in the dumpster spent the last store of energy he had. He and Susan swap places. She doesn’t have much trouble once she actually gets back on the main road.

“Thank you,” she murmurs eventually. “If I had to do this myself, I’d still be in the middle of it.”

“Yeah…sure thing, I guess.” She killed his dad. No big deal. Billy blinks, isn’t sure what else to say.

“…so, um…you like the fellas, huh?” she asks, voice light and not a bit unkind.

“Uh-huh." He shrugs. "Guys, girls, I mean, I'm not that picky. A hole’s a hole, a mouth’s a mouth, fingers are fingers.”

Susan chokes on a scandalized gasp and Billy gets a chuckle out of it, even as it turns into a cough.

“That’s, uh. T-That’s certainly crude.”

And it’s funny really, that Susan seems more creeped out by a boorish comment than she did by holding his dead dad’s corpse legs.

By the time they get home, Billy’s so beyond spent he knows he can’t even make it to his room. Doesn’t bother to try. Collapses on the couch cushions without attempting to take his boots off. Smothers what has to be the goddamn millionth round of coughs into the throw pillow.

When he picks his head up, Susan’s standing there, fiddling with the thermometer again, fretful expression on her features. Oh, fuck it. Fine. Billy bites the bullet and takes it from her, begrudgingly jamming the thing under his tongue.

[strangerthanfiction]

and it's wrong, wrong, wrong            (but we'll do it anyway 'cos we love a bit of trouble)

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

“i don’t want to be just a nothing, a sick blank, withdrawal into myself forever. i just want something, beside the emptiness i’ve carried around in me all my life.” –– allen ginsburg

“a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it into the river                but then he’s still left    with the river. a man takes his sadness and throws it away                                            but then he’s still left with his hands.” –– richard siken

"i was not a lovable child, and i'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs.” –– gillian flynn

“you will always be fond of me. i represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.” –– oscar wilde

“power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.” –– george orwell

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Rabastan Edric Lestrange NICKNAMES: “Rab” by most, “Bash” by those who know him best, “Eddy” by his grandparents AGE: Twenty-six BIRTHDAY: April 13th, 1954 GENDER: Male, cisgender PRONOUNS: He/him/his

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Sabine Lestrange (nee Avery) (52) FATHER: Gaspard Lestrange (48) SIBLINGS: Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange (sister-in-law), Narcissa Lestrange (sister-in-law), Lucius Malfoy (brother-in-law), Andromeda Tonks (sister-in-law)

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Penn Badgley BUILD: Fit, muscular, and clearly works at maintaining it. Wishes he was taller always. HAIR: Longer than it should be, according to his mother, growing out of the buzz cut he got in November, thick and wavy. He’s also sporting stubble that’s quickly turning into a beard. HAIR COLOR: Dark brown, almost black EYE COLOR: Hazel on a normal day, amber on a sunny day, murky brown on a cloudy day SKIN COLOR: Pale, thin and translucent, like parchment. Anyone can see when he’s hungover or had a shitty night of sleep because his eyes look hollow and the skin underneath it looks almost purple. DOMINANT HAND: Right ANOMALIES:

TATTOOS: The Dark Mark on the inside of his right arm, a sketch of the sculpture of Laocoon and His Sons sketched out from the top of his left rib cage to his hip, the first lines of the Iliad on his collar bone, stretching from his left shoulder to his right shoulder, a stick and poke of a muggle ghost on the inside of his ankle, and, perhaps his favorite of them all, the word “TERROR” on the inside of his bottom lip. He charmed it so that, any time he flips his bottom lip out at the world to show the tattoo, the letters pop out in a magical version of a jump scare.

SCARS: His elbows and knees are shredded up from years of Quidditch and not following proper rules when it comes to healing potions. He’s got the slightest scar in his left eyebrow from falling off his broom when he was nine. Plus, he’s got the scrapes and scars of a fighter, a soldier, and he wears his ragged skin with the brashness and boldness of someone unafraid of battle.

SCENT: Tobacco, crisp linen, and, if he’s getting all dolled up, he puts just the tiniest dab of amortentia at his throat, because, well, “then I always smell good.” ACCENT: RP because his mother wouldn’t have her children sounding like scoundrels. But his Northern accent slips out every now and again when he’s particularly hammered. ALLERGIES: Bees. DISORDERS: Rapidly developing alcoholism. Slowly developing PTSD. FASHION: Punk but make it pureblood. Lots of silver rings with huge gemstones inset or crests carved into the metal. Amazing shoes always – be it chunky black combat boots, beautiful leather loafers, or the occasional (slightly) healed Chelsea boot. Skinny jeans and slouchy hoodies on his days alone in Manchester. Pressed shirts rolled up to the elbows and perfectly fitted trousers on his days at Lestrange Manor. His favorite robes are black velvet, with a gold clasp across the chest in the shape of a skull. And, of course, his clubbing outfits. Leather, mesh, crop tops (yes, Rab wears crop tops, and no, none of you will ever see it because he’s CAREFUL heh), muscle tanks, and the odd denim shorterall (with nothing underneath) moment. NERVOUS TICS: He used to bite his fingernails as a kid, but the nannies spanked that out of him. His oral fixation has been replaced with cigarettes – any slight bit of tension, and he’s lighting up. QUIRKS: He doesn’t know how to sit normally in a chair because he’s gay.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Lestrange Manor 75% of the time. His own flat in Manchester 25% of the time. BORN: In France, while his parents were on holiday. He wasn’t supposed to be due for another three weeks, but his mother’s water broke while she was on the beach, and Rabastan was born five hours later. RAISED: In Yorkshire, with every other summer abroad (France most years, but sometimes Italy or Spain, and one very special year, Norway), until he went to Hogwarts. PETS: Gunther, a black Great Dane, who lives at Lestrange Manor, and technically is both his and Rodolphus’ – their mother got the dog for them as a means to help them bond, but really, Gunther is Rabastan’s and only gets attention from Rodolphus when their mother is around, so as not to offend her. And, in Rabastan’s eyes, but probably not in the eyes of other, more progressive individuals, Iphigenia, the Lestrange family house elf.

CAREER: Spending the Lestrange fortune. Being a Death Eater. EXPERIENCE: He’s been doing it his whole life. Nine years. Since his final year at Hogwarts. EMPLOYER: Voldemort.

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Death Eaters / Pureblood values. BELIEFS: Purebloods created this world, and now it’s their time to defend it. The Dark Lord is the only one capable of leading them to victory, and the purpose of men like Rabastan is to give him the aid he needs, no matter the personal cost. MISDEMEANORS: Truancy, defacing Hogwarts property, breaking curfew, bullying, tardiness, breaking dress code, and infinite more. He was never quiet about his rebellions, always laughing in the face of authority. And, now that he’s no longer at school, there’s nothing he can’t buy himself out of. FELONIES: Well. He’s killed more than a few people and gotten away with it, so. You do the math from there. DRUGS: Rabastan likes muggle drugs a little too much. Cocaine, particularly. He’s also been known to dabble in expensive, experimental potions from an alchemist the Lestranges have been using to cure their every ail and malady since Rabastan was a boy. SMOKES: Religiously. He started because every young boy wants to be just like their father at one point or another, and then he just never stopped. ALCOHOL: Rabastan’s rarely without a drink in his hand. It’s a glass of brandy as soon as he comes home, flask of whisky constantly at his hip, a Bloody Mary and some pepper up potion to eliminate his hangover first thing when he wakes up. It’s not a problem, he can stop at any point, or so he says. He learned how to be a functional alcoholic from all of the men he observed around him at a young age, and he’s found a very specific line – enough to feel gently numb, to feel invincible, but not so much that he’s incapacitated. And more and more, in recent months, especially since the disappearance of his brother, has he crossed that line. He’ll go through spurts of detoxing, of getting painfully sober for a few days, and then, he’ll be so overwhelmed by the world around him, by how loud it is, by how unforgiving, by how painful it can be, and then he’s right back where he was, with a bottle in one hand and a bump on the back of the other. DIET: Rabastan eats extremely well. Mostly vegetarian, except for fish, lots of legumes and greens, lots of fiber, etc. He knows how much crap he puts into his body, and while he doesn’t particularly care about the fact that he’s shortening his life, he does care about what it does to his physique. And, of course, the trade off is never going to be equal, but he does try to eat as cleanly as he can.

LANGUAGES: English, French, German, and self-taught Latin

PHOBIAS: If you asked him, he’d say he has none. And that’s mostly true. But there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t think about getting outed to his family and then being banished by the Lestranges for his deviant behavior, and there isn’t a day that goes by where the very thought is enough to turn his blood to ice. HOBBIES: Drinking, fighting, fucking. When he’s not indulging his vices, he’s actually quite a scholar – he’s read through every book in his father’s study twice, and he taught himself Latin when he was thirteen. He also loves flying and still takes to a broomstick when he needs to clear his head. He’s also surprisingly adept at tending to plants (he effortlessly got O’s in Herbology his whole time at Hogwarts), and he’s got a lovely, melodic voice.  TRAITS: { + }: Quick-thinking, fierce, loyal, playful { - }: Reckless, vulgar, lazy, submissive

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Spiny Serpent, specifically the secret fight club in the basement. It’s his favorite place in the world, the one place where he actually feels alive and free. He’ll heal all of his visible injuries with magic, but sometimes, he’ll leave a bruised rib or a tweaked knee because the pain of it reminds him that he’s alive, he’s present, he’s real. SPORTS TEAM: Wimbourne Wasps (and United ever since he started living in Manchester, but he’d rather be caught dead than admit to following the muggle Premiere league) GAME: Quidditch and he’s trying to start his own Swivenhodge league MUSIC: Much to his mother’s distaste, he’s an avid Hobgoblins fan, and his father begrudgingly took both his boys to meet Stubby when they were fifteen and eighteen respectively. Rab would never admit to listening to Celestina Warbeck, but after he’s had a few, he’s been known to do his own rendition of, “A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love” MOVIES: Too muggle. Absolutely not. (But he’d fucking love ALIEN if he knew it existed) FOOD: Venison, so rare it’s still bloody BEVERAGE: Double whisky on the rocks COLOR: Gold

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Slytherin WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 13 inches, Holly, Dragon Heart String, Brittle AMORTENTIA: Pine trees, cigar smoke, candied ginger, and the unmistakable musk of all the men he’s ever fucked (oops) PATRONUS: A Deerhound BOGGART: A blue ticket. Even though he’s no expert in muggle history, he spends enough time in queer muggle spaces to know what they are, and the first time he found out about that, the first time someone told him about dishonorable discharge because of something so seemingly trivial, it made his blood turn to ice. He couldn’t shake the image, the idea of it, and to this day, he avoids boggarts at all costs because he knows it’ll give away his secret.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral MBTI: ENFP MBTI ROLE: The Campaigner ENNEAGRAM: Type 6 ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Loyalist / the Skeptic TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine WESTERN ZODIAC: Aries CHINESE ZODIAC: Horse PRIMAL SIGN: Hammerhead Shark TAROT CARD: The Devil TV TROPES: Beard of Sorrow, Millionaire Playboy, Black Shirt, Draco in Leather Pants, Lovable Rogue, Punch-clock Villain SONGS:

1. balaclava by the arctic monkeys 2. bury a friend by billie eilish 3. to be so lonely by harry styles 4. make up your mind by florence & the machine 5. winter of our youth by bastille 6. broken crown by mumford & sons 7. i’m still standing by elton john 8. people by the 1975 9. ball and a biscuit by the white stripes 10. let’s have a kiki by scissor sisters (am i joking? idk)

IDEOLOGIES:

Adores birthdays and refuses to let people get away with not celebrating them. He loves any excuse to drink and party, and he knows he gives a mean toast, so people might as well fucking celebrate so he can put his skills on display. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Despite the contradictory nature of this, he doesn’t hate all members of the Order / all blood traitors on principle. He understands that they’re just trying to defend their place in the universe, and frankly, he respects the survival instincts he’s seeing play out. Of course, he knows his side is going to win – that’s inevitable. But it’s still admirable to see them all go down with such a valiant fight.

Hates cats. Period, full stop.

Refuses to go to St. Mungo’s, or any hospital for that matter. His uncle on his maternal side went there for a minor illness and came out in a box. Rabastan was seven, and his tiny brain came to the conclusion that the hospital was what did in his uncle, not his illness. And now, Rab knows how illogical it is, but he’d rather pay the family healer to come take a look at him than go to the doctor.

Would rather stand on public transportation than sit next to a stranger because he loves his own personal space just a little too much

As much as he does spend his family’s money a little too freely, no one can ever accuse Rab of hoarding his wealth. He always buys a round for everyone in the bar, picks up the check without being asked, buys things for his friends that they want but don’t need, lets people crash at Lestrange Manor whenever they need to. He’s not miserly in the slightest, not like Rodolphus.

Never makes a crucial decision without consulting a seer first. His mother taught him the habit.

Always flips one cigarette in the pack when he buys a new one.

No matter what time he wakes up, breakfast food has to be the first food he eats.

[mininky]

Tainted Souls (Jimin)

Summary: Vampires were no longer a myth, the world knew that they were very very real. The world wasn’t ready for it, and they really weren’t ready to find out that all those whacky conspiracy theorists finally got something right. A lot of celebrities were, in fact, undead. Including BTS. Touring constantly, always on the move it was painfully difficult to ensure that they received their meals. Until their manager learned of a business that specialized in vampire fine dining.

Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Reader

Warnings: explicit sex scenes including oral sex (male receiving), biting, a light noona kink, an insecure Jimin

Word Count: 5.1K    

Series list: Prologue, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook

   Jimin is an interesting character, one that you can't exactly pinpoint to any one specific thing. One minute he can be almost childlike with a near innocent enthusiasm and in the next moment, he can remind you of a broken lost soul that had traveled far too long and then suddenly he can be the carnal representation of his being...a vampire. All this in a time frame of fewer than fifteen minutes, honestly sometimes you wonder if he gives even himself emotional whiplash. In the last month that you've gotten to know him, you've concluded that no matter how much time you spend around him you'll always uncover new sides. He's always changing, evolving, growing right before your eyes. He's much more then the looks let on, or even what he shows on the surface.    When you first met him he couldn't look you in the eyes. He was the definition of anxiety energy. His eyes looking everywhere but at you, his foot constantly tapping, his fingers twisting around his sweater. The first feeding had been...awkward to say the least. He asked you at least four times if it was okay before finally sinking into your wrist. He then immediately pulled back and asked if it hurt. He asked about six times afterward if you were feeling okay and if you were sure everything was fine. It was sweet, even if slightly annoying. You've fed a lot of vampires and it was a lot like any other customer service job. No one ever gave a shit about the employee, just their own experience. Until Jimin that is.    That first feeding also seemed to stir a change in your relationship. Perhaps it was because he had your blood that he finally got comfortable. Actually started speaking to you without whispering, finally looking you in your eyes. You'd like to think it was because he finally relaxed, but you're pretty sure that he only relaxed because of the effects of your blood. You see, what a lot of people still don't realize (even after vampires went public) is the effects of blood on a vampire. Tainted Souls knew it down to a scientific level, they even tested your blood not just for diseases but for certain...benefits each blood can give. Just like how some foods can give you certain boosts some blood can too. It's a true vampire fine dining experience.    There are still multiple studies being done on vampires and how they live and what exactly blood does to them, nothing is yet conclusive. But in all the years that Tainted Souls has been around, they've learned things that the general public and the scientific world is still struggling with. Blood can carry certain flavors for a vampire, but it can also carry more. Some blood can elicit certain emotional reactions, although that's not always the case. It's usually only when the person giving the blood has very strong emotions at the time. Senses of fear, elation, desires...well those can be communicated to vampires through blood. And you had been prepping hard for Jimin's first feeding. He'd been so nervous around you that you had pulled out all the stops. From yoga to meditation to chamomile tea before seeing him. And it worked like a charm. For the first time, you finally saw him relax, anxiety melting off of him and that was the start to your friendship with him.    As time went on you got to learn a lot more about him. It's hard not to when you're constantly there. You knew that the job would be travel heavy, but you certainly hadn't expected that so soon into the job. Almost two weeks in and you were jet-setting around the world. Even when you considered that they were vampires and able to handle more than the average human it was still mind-boggling to think of the amount of work and stress they functioned under daily. You only got a taste of it as you traveled with them, and you were already exhausted. Jimin had faithfully been there for you, constantly checking in to make sure that everything was okay.    During that time you learned a lot. Namely how shit you were at packing, but luckily it seemed like between all of Bangtan and the rest of the girls someone always had whatever it was you needed. If not then while the guys were working you could set off on a small day trip and explore while shopping. But you've also learned a lot about Jimin. He has a tendency to overthink, to internalize all of his problems. He's bright and sunny, but painfully afraid of not being good enough. He compares himself far too often. He's still learning how to be comfortable in his own skin. He works hard at many things, but you're afraid that it's usually to prove something not to himself but to others. The rest of Bangtan is good at reassuring him, but again he overthinks even reassurance. For a vampire, he's painfully human.    And this brings you to right now, sitting with Jimin's head in your lap as he tries not to cry. His voice cracked in the last performance of the concert, and he feels that he failed the fans, his group, himself. He's refused all the other guys who've tried to come over and comfort him but when you came over he immediately curled up into your lap. You've been through this enough times to know that sometimes words don't need to be said. So instead you just run your fingers through his hair and give him a comfort that doesn't force him to speak. Eventually, the tears start to fall, and you can hear him try to stay quiet but soon the dam bursts. You hear him hiccup a few times before he seems to finally stops. "I'm sorry."    "There's nothing to apologize for. You're safe to feel however you want to feel around me. And you are with the rest of the guys too. Are you feeling a little better now?" Your words are just slightly louder than a whisper, your hands still running through his hair as he nestles further into your thighs.    "Yeah...a little. I um...thanks." You nod in response as he turns around and blinks up at you. His eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks look rounder and lips poutier from this angle. He looks more like a child seeking comfort than a world-famous sex-pot vampire. You smile down at him as he places a cold hand on your cheek. "You're the best."    "Oh, there are plenty of people better than me. But I will admit that I'm pretty good." You smile wider as he laughs and smushes his face into your stomach. Jungkook hurtles over at the sound and flings himself onto the couch next to you.    "No fair Jimin! I want noona to comfort me too!" Jimin turns over to glare at the younger boy. Angry Jimin is rare, but you've noticed lately that he's been rather territorial over you. When you first started Jimin had just gone along with the other two younger boys when they would jokingly flirt with you. Lately, though, he hasn't been having any of it. Even when he sees one of the other members just talking to you he always finds a way to insert himself into the conversation. Part of you wonders if it's jealousy. Part of you kind of wants it to be because that would mean that perhaps he likes you just as you like him.    "You have your own girl. Go annoy her instead. You're bothering noona." And with that Jimin turns back around, giving Jungkook the cold shoulder as he runs a hand through your hair. You glance over at Jungkook to see the younger boy get up grumbling as he slowly ambles over to his own partner. Jimin huffs at the lack of attention before you look back down at Jimin.    "He wasn't really bothering me."    "Yes he was, you don't have to be so nice. Besides...he was...bothering me." Jimin looks away and chews down on his lower lip before changing the subject. "Hey, noona, do you think you could stay with me tonight?"    "Sure. Do you want to head out now?" Jimin ponders your question for a bit before sitting up and nodding his agreement with the idea.    The trip back to the hotel is quiet, but it's certainly not uncomfortable. You've long grown used to the warm fuzzy feeling that accompanies you around Jimin, and while before silence would've been unnerving a couple of months ago now it's just nice. The two of you were friends. You meshed well together, and he was just so easy to be around. Some of the other girls teased you for how needy Jimin could be around you, but you enjoyed it. It was nice feeling wanted, needed. It was nice to be able to help him. Although, if you were honest...you do wish that you could do that under a pretense that was a smidge more serious than a friend. Especially during quiet moments like these, when he doesn't speak but he just grips your hand tightly and makes random tiny comments about all the things he sees out the windows. Or when you do stay the night in his room, just talking about everything and nothing until he falls asleep clutching onto you.    You've fallen for Jimin hard. It's difficult not to. His quiet, calm voice. His moments of affection. The way he seeks approval from you. The way he seeks acceptance so earnestly in a way that you wish you could do. But you also know that there's a lot on his plate. And as the older one, as the 'rock' in this friendship, you feel it would be unfair to admit these feelings to him. In a strange way, you're almost in a place of power since you are the one he goes to when he needs someone. And saying you want more might rock that dynamic in a way that he didn't want. In a way that could hurt him. Yes, you'd love nothing more than to kiss off the pout on his lips but it wouldn't be fair to him. If he wants it, then you'll gladly accept. But until then, you'll remain by his side in whatever form he needs the most.

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

   Words can't describe how it feels to wake up next to Jimin. It's both the best moment and the most heartbreaking. Every time you've slept next to him it's been platonic. But it doesn't stop the breath that hitches in your throat when you see his soft face next to yours. Or the little fuzzy feeling that envelopes you when he pulls you closer, snuggling tightly into you. But because it's under the label of friends it does give you a dash of sorrow. Of longing. Of guilt at feeling this way. So you take a moment to blink away the tears that threaten before pulling yourself out of the bed and leaving a tiny good morning note on the pillow before silently making your way to your room next door.    Each step feels heavy, your heart thudding pitifully as you get further away from Jimin. You wish it was simpler. You wish you could just will the feelings away. You wish that you could just be a good friend with no other intentions. Poor Jimin, he just needs a friend and here you are thinking about making out with him every five seconds.    By the time you make your way downstairs for breakfast and a much-needed cup of coffee that you're hoping will ward off all your negative thoughts you've run into Yoongi's girl. At first you think about running away but she's quick to wave you over to her table so instead, you sit down with your yogurt and muffin and coffee.    You've gotten to know all of them well, but there are three of them that...well if you're honest they terrify you a bit. Yoongi's blood type is certainly not one to be messed with. You've watched her deck a girl who once found out the flight you all were on and tried to snap pictures of everyone. You then watched her break the phone. With her bare hands. You didn't know that was possible. The other one who terrifies you is Hobi's blood type. Sure, she looks cute and innocent but you've seen what she packs on these trips. She's basically a traveling sex store. And then there's Jungkook's type. If you thought Yoongi's type was tough then Jungkook's type was head bitch in charge. She once put a fangirl in a headlock and almost choked her out. To be fair, it turned out to be someone who was stalking Jungkook. Even the bodyguards had a hard time wrestling them apart though.      It's not that you don't like the girls, you really do. In fact, they all treat you like protective mother cats and you their little kitten. But there's always that reminder when you're with them that these girls are all probably the type to get away with murder. "Ah, (y/n), my favorite little blood type. Hey, what do you say we trade? I'm sick of snippy. I want Ji-"    "No." Your tone surprises both of you. Her eyes grow wide before she breaks off into a fit of giggles.    "I didn't know you had it in you, kid. To be fair though, snippy has that effect on people. He has a strange way of making everyone angry." You watch her take a bite of her apple as she tilts her head and analyzes you and then lights up as she spots someone behind her. She waves them over quickly. "Speak of the devil! Or vampire, whatever. Tomato potato."    "It's tomato, to-"    "Hey, guys! I thought I'd find you down here! It was cold in the room without you." You stop speaking the moment you hear Jimin's dulcet tone. Your eyes travel back over to see Yoongi's blood type smiling widely at you. Oh no. You know that look. It's the exact look a fat cat gets when he sees food.    "Interesting. Very interesting. The room was cold you say? Interesting." Yoongi's blood type nods to herself as she speaks.    "What's she going on about?" Jimin whispers to you, scooching the seat next to you closer until his thighs are touching yours.    "Well, vampires don't exactly feel temperature changes. That and the fact that you just said we slept in the same room." Each word gets quieter and quieter until it's almost unintelligible. If it weren't for his superb hearing he certainly wouldn't have been able to catch the last bit of it.    "Oh." Jimin nods before looking over at Yoongi's blood type and leaning in closer to you. "She kind of scares me."    "I do not! You just want her to hug you and protect you, you big baby."    "Hey! (Y/N), tell her to leave me alone!" Jimin pouts as he rests his head on your shoulder and you can't help but laugh at his antics.    "I'm going to be invited to the wedding, right?" You choke on your coffee. If you hadn't seen her break that phone you would strangle her. But let's be honest, she'd kick your ass and then probably buy you consolation 'you tried' ice cream afterward.    "What wedding?" Jimin pops his head up as he scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion.    "You two you dingus. I hear wedding bells chiming in your near future."    "It's too early in the morning to keep teasing us." You bite into you muffin with bitterness, missing the crestfallen look in Jimin's eyes.    "Noona doesn't like me like that."    "Are you kidding me? God, you both are such fucking idiots. Jimin likes you (y/n). (Y/N) is so in love with you Jimin it's gross. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to go to the hotel spa and put it on Bighit's tab before the two of you make out in front of everyone. Also, you're welcome for saying something so the two of you idiots would stop this 'friend' charade. Everyone in a ten-mile radius can see that you want to fuck." You watch her with a dropped jaw as she saunters away before whipping your head over to Jimin.    He looks like a cornered rabbit before something feral takes over. Eye color morphing from dark brown into a deep crimson. The same look he gets when he's feeding...when he's found prey. Gone is cute and innocent Jimin. Gone is your chance of running away. "(Y/N)...do you like me? Please be honest." His voice is so quiet it almost hides the slight quiver in it.    "I...yes. I'm sorry I know-"    "I like you too. She's scary, but she's helpful at least." Jimin gives you a wide cherub smile.    "She's certainly a straight shooter." You still for a moment as Jimin grabs your hand before melting into the touch. You don't regret not telling him sooner. Had you been rash and blurted it out it might not have worked out this way. So instead you just relish in the warmth that rushes through you as he gazes tenderly at you.    "So, can I...call you my girlfriend?"    "I would love that."

------------------------------    It's been a month since you've started dating Jimin, and it's been painfully slow. Don't get it wrong, you've never been happier. But...but Jimin isn't the only needy one in this relationship. Your needs are just...well you've gotten good at covering them up. But every time he kisses you, everytime you think things might progress it just suddenly stops. But tonight you're hoping will finally change that. You've even enlisted Hoseok's blood type's help for this in the form of the cutest lingerie you've ever seen that she helped you purchase. She also somehow managed to discretely deliver the largest box of condoms you've ever owned to your hotel room.    You spend a few minutes trying to relieve your anxiety before slipping on your trench coat (cliche perhaps, but it looks hot) and marching over to Jimin's room with your head held high. Before you can even knock on the door it's swinging open and revealing Jimin in sweatpants slung low, no t-shirt, and damp hair. "(Y/N)! You're here so much sooner than I thought you would be, come in!" You tear your eyes away from the smooth expanse of skin and sinfully delicious abs as you step into his room. "I'm just going to finish drying my hair really quick. You can pull up something on Netflix if you want."    You watch him enter the bathroom as you make your way over to the bed. Taking a deep breath you finally take off the coat and sit down on the edge right as you hear the dryer turn off. "Did you find something that you want to-oh my god." You look up slowly, trying your best to give a confident grin but your lips just shake with anxiety. His eyes are wide and you see him stop breathing for a moment before he steps closer. "You look...amazing." His hands clasp onto yours and he drinks in the sight of you for a moment before pulling you up and wrapping his hands around your waist. "Wow, you just look so...wow..."    This time you give a real smile, anxiety melts off of you under his touch. For a moment the two of you just stand there, grinning at one another until finally, you close the distance and press your lips onto his with fervor. His lips always make you melt into them. Soft and plush and perfect. His hands dip down from your waist and travel slowly and hesitantly to your ass before finally gripping the soft flesh firmly. A low groan escapes him as he rolls the flesh in his palm and you take the moment to explore his mouth. Tongues entwine together as feverish desire starts consuming you.    You can feel the dampness in your panties growing as his hips rock into yours. Your hands roam along his arms down to his sculpted pecs and lower still until their resting on the band of his sweatpants. You feel him freeze for a moment and he pulls back with a look of concerns. "Jimin...Jimin, we can stop baby. I'm sorry if I came off too strong I just-"    "No...no I don't want to stop. I just...I just umm. I'm not exactly..." Jimin won't look at you as he speaks, and it's not until you gently cup his face that he finally bites out the last of it. "Well, the guys always make fun of me. I'm not that...big..."    "Jimin, I couldn't care less. I don't care about things like size, I just want you. Besides..." You slowly move your hand back down to the bulge and cup it gently. "It certainly doesn't feel small." You watch him gulp, his wide eyes following your movements as you drop onto your knees. "Are you okay with going further?"    "Yes, god yes." Jimin watches with rapt attention as you pull off his sweatpants and you watch his dick spring out of the confines. Even if he had been small you wouldn't have cared. But he's not. He's average in length, slightly thicker than average. If he's considered small then the rest of BTS must be monsters.    "Can I touch you?" You look up at Jimin through your lashes and you see him nod quickly before you take the length in your hand. For a moment you slowly travel the length before inching closer and finally swiping at the beads of precum spilling out with your tongue. You give a few kitten licks around the head, maintaining eye contact before taking the head in your mouth and moving down slowly. Each small movement has him whining and by the time you've reached the base he looks like he's gone feral. His hips buck sporadically, causing lewd choked moans to echo through the room.    The feeling is all too much for him, and for you. Each time you pull back up and give a few kitten licks around the base before diving back down he gives musical moans. And it's causing the wetness to become unbearable. You're clenching around nothing, dying for relief. You dip your hands into the black lace and slowly insert a finger. The movement doesn't go unnoticed by Jimin who's hands wrap into your hair as he bucks further down your throat. "You're so pretty noona. God, I could watch you touch yourself all day. And your mouth, fuck, fuck!" You find yourself spurred on by his words. You're moving quickly, both on his cock and with your fingers. Any hesitation or uncertainty has clearly left both of you. A long muffled moan from you finally spurs Jimin to pull back completely. Your face is a mess of tears and spit and precum as he pulls you up and into a heated kiss.    You know by the groan of satisfaction that he can taste himself on your tongue. His hands slide up your back to unlatch your bra and the sound of it hitting the carpet has both of you pulling back with heavy breathing. The weight of his gaze on your breasts has your breath hitching in your throat until he finally wraps his mouth around one taught bud and his hand reaches up to grip the other one. "Jimin, oh god!" Each touch has your nerves on fire, tingles running up your spine as your head falls back and eyes close shut. His fangs scrape along the sensitive flesh as his hand falls into the band of your panties.    His digits slip into your slick core with ease, his palm grinding against your clit with each movement. Your back arches up, breasts pressing into his face as you moan. It's all so much, to finally feel him on you. To finally be (almost) bare in front of him. To finally take this step further. The sensations from your nipple and the full feeling from three of his fingers have you dangling over the edge. Threatening to fall headfirst into an intense orgasm. But just as you see it arching over the horizon he's pulling out and grinning back down at the look of frustration on your face.    His pupils are so blown out they almost hide the flashes of red. The look of hunger in his eyes contrasts with the boyish mischevious smile on his face in a way that is so utterly Jimin you can't help but reach up and run your hands through his hair and then along his jawline. You want to be angry and pout over your denied orgasm, but you're too enthralled by the fact that this is finally happening. You finally get to have Jimin, all of him. "You're so handsome, Jimin." You watch a blush grow on his cheeks, a pretty shade of pink blooming all the way up to the tips of his ears.    For a moment the two of you are just entranced in one another. The world stops moving for a moment and then you watch him pull his wet digits up and pop them into his mouth with a groan. "You taste so good Noona." His eyes roll back, head thrown back and showing the smooth expanse of his neck. Adam's apple bobbing before he's moving again. He's quick to pull off your panties and spread your legs once again before getting up and rummaging around in his suitcase on the floor before tearing open the foil. Looks like you weren't the only one prepared.    You watch him slowly pump his cock and roll down the condom before he lines it up. You can feel it brush along the entrance of your wet core. You can feel your pussy throb with need at each small touch. "Jimin, please don't tease me. I need you. I want you, I want you so bad. Please baby. Please fuck me." You hear him whimper with need before he finally moves, thrusting in and filling you to the hilt all in one go. "Oh god, Jimin you feel so good!"    "Noona!" You watch him pull his bottom lip into his teeth before finally moving. His hips start snapping into you slowly at first, but each moan and whimper from you, each lewd squelch, seems to spur him on. Soon he's snapping into you with wanton abandon, the rhythm too fast for your mind to keep up. It's almost as if each time he's pulled out he's back in and back to just the right spot. Over and over until euphoria sets in and blinding white light sparks beneath your eyelids.    "Oh god, Jimin, please don't stop. Please, please, please! I'm going to cu-cu!" Your words are cut off by his fangs pressing into your neck and it hurtles you over the edge. Pleasure and pain mingle together, fireworks and stars appear as your toes curl into the bed sheets and hands weave into his soft hair. You can feel yourself still clenching around him sporadically each time he whimpers, each time his tongue flicks across the wounds and finally closes them up.    "You taste so good Noona! Fuck, I'm not going to last much longer." You can feel yourself coming back down now, coherant at last once again as you try to push back on his shoulders.    "Jimin, let me ride you. I want to make you cum." You watch his adam's apple bob as he grabs your thighs and flips the two of you over. His eyes remain trained on your hands as you grab at the base and slowly lower yourself onto it. The whimper that leaves him when he's finally all the way in has you clenching around him, spurring more musical notes out of him. "Oh god, Jimin you look so good under me." Your hands snake over his chest as you slide back up before rocking back down. Your hips swivel in circle eights before alternating back to rocking into him. You can feel your own desire building back up, the familiar tightening coil in your belly raging back to life. As you move faster to reach your own climax you can feel Jimin's muscles strain underneath you. Goosebumps raise up onto his flesh as you pull him into a needy kiss as you reach your second climax and he finally tumbles into his own. Tongues entwine together, hands roaming around each other blindly before the two of finally pull away panting messes.    You can feel him softening inside you before you finally pull out and lay down next to him. Your eyes shut and exhaustion starts to sweep over you as you hear him moving around and tying off the condom before tossing it and curling in bed next to you. "I love you noona. I love you so much, and I..."    "I love you too Minnie. But just a reminder, never be afraid to just be you around me. I love you for who you are, so don't hide around me. Just be you. Also, yes before you ask, I know that sometimes you act like you're afraid just so you can get me to hold you. You can just tell me, I like cuddling with you." You turn over to face him, peppering small kisses along his neck until he squirms and smushes you against his side to stop your ministrations.    "Sorry Noona, I just...I like when you hold me. You make me feel safe and happy. It's like when I'm with you I don't have to pretend to be cool or strong or awesome. I can just be me. But...I was talking to the guys and I realized something. I'm always using up all of our time for me, but I want you to be needy too. Or at least tell me when you want something. You don't put yourself first enough. You can tell me when you want something, or need something, or want to do something. I'm always here for you." Jimin was right, you didn't put yourself first enough. It wasn't his fault though, it was just how you've always been. Ever the little fixer, the helper, the mediator. But with Jimin, you were allowed to be honest when you wanted more.    "I'm glad I met you Jimin."    "Me too, noona. Me too." His words are quiet, just barely above a whisper. You're positive that Bighit wasn't intending for all of the blood types to pair up this way, but as you lay here next to the man you've grown to love deeper each day you can't help but feel it was fate.      

[valorandgold-archived]

( Morgan, either Morgan, with Owain and/or Cynthia. :3c )

Anonymously or not, tell me who you ship my muse with.

Okay but can I just do a little ramble on the Jutsice Cabal and these dorks? This is really gonna pertain more to the personality of M!Morgan though since most of the time my F!Morgan takes more after him save for a couple aspects, so for the most part assume that this applies to both of them and you could apply pronouns for her where I place pronouns for him. TL;DR Cynthia and Owain make Morgan feel like he belongs and are so important to him and it’s easy for him to fall in love, especially with either of them.

The thing about Morgan when he arrives in the past timeline is that he’s going to feel a disconnect from all the other second gen kids, and even though Morgan sees things in a very positive light and is very sunny and cheery, he does feel like he’s not really a part of things to begin with. But along come Owain and Cynthia who are just the two sweetest people there aside from Morgan, they welcome him easily and mesh so well with his optimistic personality. Not only do they welcome him and make him feel like part of the group but THEY FORM A TRIO WITH HIM AND BUILD HIM TO BE A HERO ALONGSIDE THEM and he just feels so happy that he matters and is important, and that he can always rely on the two of them.

Owain is always enthusiastic and will go at everything with full energy, sometimes even recklessly, and he and Morgan just fit so well together on those aspects, and in taking Morgan as a rival, he helps build that confidence in him that he really needs. He doesn’t take things too lightly with Morgan and because of that Morgan always feels like he has someone to aspire to match, apart from his mother, so he never loses sight of that goal.Cynthia has a lot of energy and enthusiasm with the things she does too, but she takes a different approach with Morgan. Where Owain is Morgan’s ‘rival’ but his friend, Cynthia is more of Morgan’s ally in the Justice Cabal, ready to energize herself and others with a good speech on hand and the occasional confidence-boosting catchphrase to boot. She makes Morgan feel like he just sort of fits into place alongside her, as if it’s just natural that he belongs there with both Cynthia and Owain, and she makes him feel like he can be himself freely most of all, which is part of why he struggles watching her try to be someone that really isn’t her in their supports.

Morgan would probably feel lost and uncertain of his direction without those two being such total anchors in his life and he cares for both of them so deeply that there is not a thing he would not do for either of them and it’s just so easy for him to fall in love with either one and…look, I am extremely picky about my OT3s, and I have very few of them, but I would gladly do an OT3 with the Justice Cabal at some point because they all matter so much to each other, and both of them are especially important to Morgan because he has somewhere and something he belongs to around them. 

It also helps that Morgan is just…so easy to ship. He’s very caring for others around him, sometimes to the point of recklessness (something displayed a bit in his supports with Cynthia, wanting her to go back to how she was, and something displayed a lot in his supports with Nah, endangering himself to get the flower), and if you think he’s not going to be stubborn about making you feel happy and getting you to open up you have NO idea what kind of person Morgan is (see also: Lucina and Yarne). There is not a single individual among their group he does not care about and he will strive to help every single one…so it’s easy for him to build chemistry with someone just on how he naturally is.

[naruto-oc-critiques]

be nice 2 me nerds <3

she’d still kinda incomplete, so yeh - Syn

— General —

Name: Mao Fujioka

Meaning: Genuine thread; Wisteria hill

Gender: Female

Birthday: July 6th

Age: Part I: 24-25 Part II: 27-28 

[I didn’t know Mao was a Leo. Run for the damn hills.]

— Characteristics —

Blood type: O

Height: : Part I: 5’5” Part II:  5’5”

Weight: : Part I:133 lbs.  Part II:  136 lbs.

Eyes: She has upturned eyes; almond shaped with a lift up at the outer corners. They’re the same color as burnished copper.

Hair: Layered, slightly curly hair that reaches mid-shoulder blades; she keeps it in a low, semi-messy bun with a senbon stuck through it and has some curled fringe (almost like Spanner from KHR, except looser). Dark brown in color; about the color of dark chocolate, if not just a bit darker.

Skin: Peachy skin tone with smatterings of freckles along her arms and legs.

[Realistic height and weight CHECK. Cute eyes ;) Curly hair in Narutoverse? Me likey. Also senbon is cute because ayyyy Genma is the love interest so it’s foreshadowing. :D]

 — Appearance —

Child: Shorter hair left loose, and was one of the kids that kept more of their baby fat longer so she had chubby cheeks. Simple outfit of shorts, and a t-shirt or long-sleeved top (much to her mother’s chagrin) in simple colors with the typical ninja sandals.

[What a cute kid. I can imagine Mao getting ticked off and pointing stubby baby fingers at people while she pouts with them chubby cheeks.]

Academy: Longer hair in a ponytail, curly fringe. Typically wore a grey hooded vest over a plain black long-sleeved shirt and black shorts with once again black ninja sandals. She wasn’t one to bother with colors or girly things and preferred to keep it simple.

[So much black. Too much black. You do know that blue cloth is all the rage in Konoha right? Even for emo chicken butt head Sasuke? Add one dash of color, even if it’s a small accessory. ples.]

Genin: Began putting her hair into a loose looking bun and wearing wedged ninja sandals; black. Wore a sleeveless wire mesh shirt under a long-sleeved wide-necked forest green shirt, short black fingerless gloves with metal back plates, and black tapered pants with cargo-like pockets. She wears her headband around her left bicep. Mao also began to gain a lankier form at this point.

[I don’t think a genin at the age of 10 should be wearing wedged ninja sandals. At least, if you mean wedge like a wedged heel… Also CARGO PANTS YES LOVE. POCKETS.]

Chuunin: Lost some of her lankiness for a more pear-shaped body, wedged ninja sandals traded in for some wedged boots; black with grey buckles. She still wears the plated fingerless gloves and now has the leaf symbol etched into both, so she doesn’t bother with her headband.  She keeps to the plain colors with a to the body slate-grey and quarter-sleeved mesh-lined shirt, black cargo-esque pants that tuck into her boots, and her flak jacket.

[Oooh, boots. Love. Also, I wouldn’t consider the plated gloves to be her form of identification. She should still need her headband.]

Jonin: The only real change to her outfit is that her cargo-esque pants now have red stitching. This is her answer to Anko’s needling that she “needs more color in her life”.

[Love me some Anko friendship.]

— Ninja information —

Current rank: Tokubetsu jounin [WHAT IS THE SPECIALTY, SYN. HEY.]

-Genin promotion: 10

-Chuunin promotion: 12

-Special jounin promotion: 16

-Jounin promotion: 23

Team: Team Shun (affectionately Team Idiots); Shun Sarutobi, Izumo Kamizuki, Kotetsu Hagane. [YES I LOVE ME SOME IZUMO AND KOTETSU YAS.]

Kekkei Genkai: none

Chakra nature: Earth, Water

Ninjustsu range: midrange

Defensive/Offensive type: A little of both, but more so offensive.

Dominant hand: left

Weapons: senbon and ninja wire are her favorites [wink at Genma because senbon.]

— Summonings —

Species: Tanuki

Where the summoning contract comes from: Matsuyama Forest

Name: Shoukichi

Abilities: Tanuki make near zero sound when walking, as such they are fantastic at stealing things or causing general mischief. Tanuki also have the ability to henge into people or even inanimate objects. Shoukichi is especially bad about stealing things – food is his favorite target.

Mao gains this “light-footedness” as a Tanuki contractor.

Appearance: Shoukichi is a little larger than the average sized raccoon is, and has the signature tanuki fur pattern that leaves him with darkened eyes. His fur is colored with black, varying shades of grey, and white. When he’s contemplating something (often what to steal) his head tilts to the side and the tip of his tongue pokes out.

[Obviously I like the idea of a Tanuki since we talked about it in private and I’m pretty sure I helped you come to the conclusion that Tanuki’s are great as a summons? Gaining a trait from the summons is also cute. But can Shoukichi TALK???? The real question.]

— Abilities —

Strength: Chakra control, traps

Weakness: Hand-to-hand combat. [

Taijutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Ninjutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Chakra nature: Earth, Water

Earth Release Jutsu:

Coil of Earth

Headhunter

Mudshot

Mudslide

Water Release:

Kirigakure no Jutsu [protip; just call it hidden mist jutsu. You went for english names for everything except this. Continuity. Also a tiny bit odd that a Konoha shinobi uses this technique as it is a specialty of Kiri ninja. If you really want to use it, I’d suggest having some backstory and have Mao horribly beaten by a Kiri nin who used this jutsu, therefore giving her the determination to learn it herself. Some drawback should be established.]

Water Bullet

Water Prison

Water Dragon Bullet

Also knows Wind Release: Gale Palm [please tell me she incorporates senbon into this. ;)]

Genjutsu: Excellent/Good/Average/Bad/Terrible

Fighting style: Mao’s fighting style is fluid, focusing on dodging and defending more than attacking and preferably done in mid to long range rather than up close. She focuses mostly on ninjutsu, minor seals, and chakra string assisted weaponry. [Chakra strings? Who taught her that?]

— Personal traits —

Personality:

Mao is a subtle antagonist, as she likes to encourage all of the crazy and wild ideas that Anko comes up with, though Mao does on occasion actively participate in mischief. She is witty and often comes off as blasé, which sometimes causes problems to arise when she meets new people. And while she may seem blasé about things, Mao is fiercely protective of all of her friends and family and is quite kindhearted – though she tends to get embarrassed when caught out on said kindhearted, soft moments. [I knew she would be like this. Damn leo’s. Me likey though.]

Once she sets her mind on something it becomes her passion, which sometimes leaves her seeming as if she has a one-track mind. She finds humor the best medicine and cover to all of her more tumultuous emotions, and as humor is part of her default character it can take someone who knows her to tell when she’s just deflecting. [Yes! Character development!]

Likes: All types of food – she loves food more than anything, tending her small her garden, naps in the sun [She must love Akimichi food ;)]

-what she likes to do in her free time: Mao either fiddles around with her chakra strings or takes naps in odd but sunny places. She also likes to read novels.

Dislikes: The period of cooking where you can smell the food come together but can’t eat yet because it’s not done, when Anko or one of the boys cajole her into serious taijutsu practice, missions in rainy humid places because it turns her hair into a monster.

Habbits: When thinking hard about something she goes through the hand signs for the alphabet of standard sign language. When concentrating on a task (a puzzle, something to do with writing or reading) her tongue will poke out of her mouth a little bit. 

Fears: Losing everyone, and to a lesser extent being alone – it makes her progressively anxious.

Ambition: To see her kids (genin) grow up and to have a family of her own one day.

— Relationships —

Parents: Yuri Fujioka and Asada Fujioka

Sibling(s): None

Relative(s): Spinster aunt Junko Fujioka [I hope Junko is truly living up to the spinster title.]

Teammates/Ex-teammates: Izumo Kamizuki and Kotetsu Hagane

Friends: Kurenai Yuhi, Izumo and Kotetsu

Best friend(s): Anko Mitarashi, Ashi Inuzuka and Michi

Crush: Genma Shiranui, eventually (it’s a slow thing that happens over time) [SHIP IT LIKE FEDEX]

Rival: She doesn’t really have it in her to have one, not seriously. Anko might be the closest thing.

— Background & history —

Childhood:

Mao was mostly quiet and to herself; she didn’t go out of her way to speak to people so she often drifted around among groups in the Academy. It was a melancholic truth that she didn’t really have very many friends, and she claimed what she had was enough. Though what she had was a bunch of acquaintances and her childhood friend Ashi Inuzuka and his partner Michi, who were three years ahead of her.

But it was in the academy that Mao befriended Anko – or, rather, Anko injected herself into Mao’s life. When it happened the majority of their classmates were confused at the pairing, often asking how it happened. Mao’s answer?

“Skewers, dirt, and a declaration of undying love.”

How much of that was sarcasm Mao’s classmates didn’t know. (Mao would laugh about their confusion, because all she did was offer Anko a stick of dango after the plum haired girl’s got knocked into the dirt. And after she’d had knocked the person that had wronged her into the dirt.) And it was from this point on that Mao became the so-called “devil on Anko’s shoulder”, as she often enabled the plum haired girl’s wild schemes. [Evil little Leo child.]

Genin days:

The beginning of her genin days were rough, as her team didn’t mesh too well in the beginning. Kotetsu and Izumo often ended up leaving her out without meaning to, which caused a lot of tension. Eventually their sensei, Shun Sarutobi, kicked them to the wilds and made them talk. After that they became a fairly capable team that still had some bumps to smooth over. Izumo was often forced to be team mom as well, as Kotetsu and Mao fed off of each other and caused more problems than not, or just got too off-track. They graduated a few months after the Kannabi Bridge incident, so things were still somewhat stressful.

It was on their first C-Rank that Mao’s unsure outlook on her life went through a change. A few things went wrong and they all ended up hurt in one way or another, thanks to rogue shinobi and bandits still feeling empowered thanks to the previously ended war, and their sensei too was hurt as he did his best to protect them. He himself lost an eye in the conflict. It was a wake-up call and Mao, who had previously been unsure of what she was doing since being a shinobi was just something expected of her, started putting in more effort and time than she ever had to getting stronger. Because if there was one thing she knew, it was that she wanted to protect her friends. [I LOVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENTTTTTTTTTTTTTT YES.]

Chuunin days:

Mao participated in the chuunin exams the same time Anko did, and the two actually ended up fighting in the final round. Anko came out the ultimate victor in their match, but both were promoted in the end along with Izumo and Kotetsu. Apparently a great showing of teamwork during the second phase of their exams, involving transporting an “important document” to Tanzaku Gai without losing it to the “enemies” provided by the chuunin and genin corps helped push forward the promotion of their entire team.

It was after their promotions that, somehow, all members of Team Shun slowly started drifting towards the Intelligence Division. They began running intelligence gathering missions under the guidance of the brand new tokubetsu jounin, Aoba. When not on missions or training together, Team Shun worked on finding their own niche within Intelligence, with Mao initially drifting over to Cryptology a few days a week. It was due to her interest in sealing that initially had her go that way, but after a short period she eventually just drifted back to being a general member of the Intelligence Division. [Sounds plausible. Cute idea for Chuunin exam btw. ;)]

The Kyuubi incident happened about a year after the quartet’s promotions, and Mao didn’t have much of a part in everything besides helping civilians to the shelters and away from the trouble after her initial shock.

The first breakdown Mao had after the initial scare of the mission gone wrong was when Orochimaru defected from Konoha and Anko went missing along with him. Mao nearly had a come apart, with Kotetsu and Izumo having to stop her from barging into the Hokage’s office, emotions blazing. They calmed her down enough that she wouldn’t just burst in anger and Mao practically demanded to be part of a search team, declaring that she knew Anko best.

The Cell she was part of weren’t the ones that found Anko, but they did run into the team that did. Mao stayed by the semi-unconscious and in pain girl the whole way back to Konoha, and once they got back as well. It was after this incident that Anko joined the former Team Shun in the Intelligence Division, quietly at first and then with a bang, much to the chagrin of many. Mao eventually became the one people called whenever Anko became too much for them, and Mao was both amused and a little exasperated by this. [Love this and I want to read this whole ordeal in story format please.]

Around the time Mao was fourteen, she decided to try for a summons. She did this with the guidance of her old sensei and Anko, who had already been long signed onto the Snake contract. Mao’s reverse summoning brought her to Matsuyama Forest where she eventually found her way through the foliage and creatures living there to the master of the forest – the Great Tanuki Chagama-sama. After agreeing to come back to Matsuyama once a year to help with the harvest of food during the peak of the season, Chagama-sama allowed Mao to sign the contract. [What a cute little way to pay back to the Tanuki, oh my goodness, I want to read an omake about her helping harvest please.]

Tokubetsu Jounin/Jounin days:

Once both girls turned sixteen, Mao and Anko (who the Fujiokas had taken in after the Incident) moved into a cheap apartment together after becoming tokubetsu jounin. The only rules? For Anko to keep her mess confined to her room, and for her to never attempt cooking on her own. It was also at this point in time that the two joined the Torture and Interrogation subdivision of the Intelligence Division.

Mao, with the assistance of Anko, annoyed Ibiki into teaching Mao more about the sealing arts. In turn for this Mao was to assist Ibiki whenever he wanted Anko the hell away from him. Mao also eventually became somewhat of a gopher among the Intelligence Division, often being the link between Ibiki and Inoichi when they couldn’t meet with each other. [again in love with these little ideas because uhm yes Inoichi and Ibiki not liking each other???]

It was when Mao was eighteen when she first met Genma Shiranui, and that incident was all thanks to Shoukichi. The tanuki found Genma one day and snatched something of his, which eventually led Genma to Mao. He seemed really surprised when she pulled out her “box of wonders” before pulling his missing item from the pile. [YES A LITTLE EXCERPT? YES.]

(“…I think your friend might have some problems.” He jokingly eyed the creature as it scampered off, probably to snatch something else. “Might need to use some of those employee perks for therapy.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Inoichi-senpai about some therapy-no-jutsu.” Mao clasped her hands together prettily. “Would you like to be there to voice your concerns and lend your support?”

The senbon in his mouth quirked up as he smirked. “Of course, just give me the time and date, Tanuki-chan.”) [hnnnnnnnnnnnngggggg I need more.]

Later Shoukichi manages to snatch Genma’s lunch, leading the man to come strolling up once again, amused after the initial irritation wore off. Upon hearing the problem she mentioned he must have good taste, and that she owed him a meal, which he did end up taking her up on if only because he was hungry and it meant he didn’t have to pay. Though it became of bit of a normal occurrence, as Shoukichi’s favorite target for theft ended up being the same tokubetsu jounin. It was after a year of these lunches that Mao officially started crushing on the older shinobi – or perhaps that was when she finally realized it, seeing as she never offered to buy anyone else lunch after Shoukichi stole it.

When Mao is twenty-one, she takes that first step into actually making those developing feelings apparent, though it’s not quite of her own free will. Anko drags her, Izumo, Kotetsu, and a few of their coworkers out to celebrate their birthdays and Mao gets more than a little drunk. She ends up kissing Genma, though she wakes up thinking it was some alcohol induced dream. Though it’s at this point Genma starts hanging around a little more – trying to puzzle her out. And months later when it’s his birthday, later that night he kisses her –

“It’s only fair, right? You kissed me for your birthday, so I get to kiss you for mine.”

To this day he reminisces on how utterly red she turned on that day.

But, after that they begin an odd sort of teasing and flirting game that eventually evolves into the same sort of supposedly secret relationship Asuma and Kurenai had by the time Mao is twenty-four and Naruto has graduated from the academy. By this time, Mao is also a full-fledged jounin, having taken the jump the same time as Kurenai. [UHM SECRET RELATIONSHIP YES? CUTE? I SHIP IT LIKE FEDEX?]

During Pain’s attack on the village she’s a key fighter in the battle against one of the Paths. Ultimately, she ends up dead and then resurrected by Nagato - though one of her ninjutsu manages to tear the arm off of the Path that she is fighting before getting killed. [Oooh. Does she have a dramatic death? ;)]

Time skip/Shippuuden:

Mao ends up getting a genin team foisted off on her during the time skip, much to her bewilderment. She’s fairly certain it happened one night when her and Tsunade and a few others got a little too drunk – she figures it was partly Shizune’s revenge for said incident. Said team is composed of Heiwa Inuzuka – the nephew of Ashi – Kaede Yuhi, and an orphan boy named Noboru. And, much to Mao’s amusement, Noburu is supposedly Konohamaru’s rival. She uses this as an excuse to heckle Ebisu, much to his absolute dismay. [You involve so many characters who aren’t completely main and I love it? Teasing Ebisu is great and also like a rivalry about who is the better teacher is also awesome?????? I love this?]

During the time skip Mao and Genma end up getting an apartment together, which Anko still likes to complain about and tease her for all the same. Mao proceeds to pester Kurenai about her and Asuma, which the red-eyed woman takes with a grin. [Wait wait wait when did they become exclusive to all? I need answers and a description of the reactions from friends?]

By the time the chuunin exams Shikamaru was put in charge of roll around it’s been a year since Mao had her team, so she punts them towards the Hokage building without a second thought. [DID THEYSortDO GOOD???? DID THEY MAKE MAMA MAO PROUD?]

War Arc:

Haven’t finished hashing this out completely, so barebones:

The final med screenings before going off to fight find Mao pregnant.

She panics, because she’s not ready and there’s a war

Genma is also panicked, but also relieved as that means she won’t end up on the battlefield.

She spends her free time chatting with Kurenai and cooing over Mirai, as well as heckling Karin to pass the time and keep herself distracted.

Her dream under the genjutsu is getting married to Genma, and having a home constantly visited by her friends and family.

Eventually gives birth to a little boy named Nobu.

They get married some time before Nobu turns three, and Mao ends up pregnant again.

A little girl named Ritsu.

[Sorta cliche to find out she is pregnant before the battle but hey that’s shinobi life for you. And SHE DOESN’T FIGHT IN THE WAR? WHAT. NOPE I DON’T LIKE THIS IDEA ANYMORE I NEED HER FIGHTING AND KICKING ASS. YOU MADE HER SOUND SO AWESOME AND THEN BOOM ANTI-CLIMACTIC END WITH THE WAR AND NOT FIGHTING IN IT? NO SIR-E-BOB. I mean how far along is she pregnant? If she’s under 3 months, I’m pretty sure she can fight? Like if you don’t fight, you may die anyways, so why not fight? Shinobi life? Ninja way? Let’s G-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!]

Epilogue/Chapter 700+:

Genma and Mao are living together happily with their two children, and Nobu’s crush on Mirai provides both of them great amusement. Mao still works in the T&I department, mostly handling paperwork and heckling the newbies. 

[Super relaxed epilogue is super relaxed because everyone who lives to the epilogue of Naruto deserves some damn peace and quiet.]

All in all; I lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ove Mao and I need her story pronto. I really don’t see many flaws with her character. Yeah, the ending was mediocre to me with the war. And yeah why does she know how to use the Hidden Mist Technique if she is a Konoha ninja? And maybe the chakra thread too but hey it’s not that big of a deal.

Final score: 9.7/10. I’m rooting for Mao. I love the small details and after going through it all, it didn’t seem like that long of a submission? But hahahaha it is. Me likey. I want more and want a story written.

Love, Dom.

[landscapesethnowi756-blog]

What Does Garden Maintenance Mean?

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If potted plants completely dry out to the point where re-wetting is hard, soak them in a bucket of water for half an hour, after that drainpipe. 3. Water early to prevent mildew Water in the cool of the day. The very best time is morning yet, if you water in the afternoon, permit sufficient time for foliage to dry out prior to sundown. This decreases the danger of mold Browse this site and various other fungi striking fallen leaves, and there's less opportunity you'll obtain captured by the evening shift of sandflies or insects. Mold frequently attacks roses, pumpkin, melon, zucchini and cucumber. Spray plants regular with http://goodfellers.ie/tree-pruning a solution made from one part cow's milk to 10 parts water Repeat after hefty rain or irrigation. This solution will not reverse mold damage, but it's an effective preventative. Include nutrients to the water. 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Keep grass rich by foliar feeding with seaweed restorative as soon as monthly and using one handful of fowl manure per square metre each season, before rain or watering. Allow 2 weeks for this to green your yard-- and for the odour to go away before having a garden party! Maintain the water streaming Clear debris from seamless gutters so that every shower channels additional water into your rain container. Use mosquito mesh to stop insects and frogs from getting in tanks and pipes. When it's awesome, do tough work It's more secure, and you're more probable to do a far better task, if you total energised work such as mowing in the cool of the day-- either before 10am or after 4pm. An excellent drink of water and a smear of sunscreen are requirements, because that five-minute job frequently results in one more, and another. Sunblock takes 15 mins to develop its protective layer, so use that time to plan your day in the garden. Always remember your hat (or umbrella) and sunnies too, and if you do get melted, nothing beats the air conditioning, recovery result of fresh, home-grown juice of aloe vera. In my Dublin garden, a tea tree oil-based mosquito repellent is also necessary. Save some light tasks, such as weeding or propagating, to complete in the comfort of a shady place. Protect new plantings Newly planted veggie and flower plants are most likely to need a little sunlight hardening. Shield them with 50 per cent shadecloth, old net curtains, dead hand leaves, or leafy branches for a week or 2. This helps them establish without injury. Plan shade tactically Northern borders may benefit from some additional color, however will this make a photovoltaic panel or warm water system ineffective? Purposefully putting a deciduous tree, vine or some clumping bamboo to protect your home and garden from burning western sunshine is frequently a far better option. For more information on using plants to color revealed locations of your house, visit Your Home Design Guide and select 'Shading' in the technological guidebook. Increase trace elements Magnesium urges robust development and the manufacturing of power in plants. Gardenias and roses in particular gain from supplementary magnesium in summer season. Use it to cymbidium orchids to assist initiate blossom buds. Add 1 heaped tsp of Epsom salts to 4.5 L of water. Either spray the foliage, or water it in at the origins. If the leaves of citrus, banksia, camellia, azalea or grevillea come to be stunted and bespeckled yellow, now is likewise the time to boost the iron web content of soil by using iron chelates. This acidifies dirt and adds iron needed for healthy and balanced development. It takes a month approximately to see a result. Keep an eye out for parasites A lot of varieties are discouraged to strike household and garden timber. Be on guard for bug species and keep garden tools with wood handles, hardwood risks and other hardwood lures off the ground. Protect without treatment wood, such as benches and garden bed edging, from decay. Use your time sensibly

If you're short of time yet like your garden to look cared for, some fresh mulch, a couple of strategically put flowering plants and a freshly edged yard will offer your garden a lift. Apart from keeping soil cool and conserving water, compost quits stormwater cleaning fertiliser away. Just how much water is enough?

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