#i see both names floating around so ill just tag as both

[the-dragon-girl-27]

Flocking drawings!

Crassigyrinus surfacing for air showing off its weird ass teeth

two female Kelenken nuzzling under a rainbow

Diplocaulus catching its prey

one of the last Rodrigues Solitaire crying out trying to find a companion to no response

[fairyhaos]

❖ take care of me anyway // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: office worker!jeonghan not rlly relevant to the plot tho, sick fic, fluff, established relationship

warnings: brief fever-induced hallucinations ig?? but theyre rlly cute, pet names, reader has a cold

notes: im sick. like, 'i have a cold' sick. and i also have another sick fic planned so uhh yeah im a little Unwell in the head too

There are ten minutes left of Jeonghan’s lunch break when you finally call him.

“Hello, my darling,” he says, his tone both parts dry and amused. “How are you?”

“Sick,” you reply, and even just that word sounds horribly bunged up. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You called in sick for me.”

Jeonghan just hums, smiling a little as he adjusts the phone against his ear, walking down the street back to his company building. “Maybe I did.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, and he can almost hear you pouting on the other end of the line. There’s a rustling sound as you adjust yourself in bed, and he sighs.

“How sick are you?”

“Very,” you say, miserably, and then give a series of harsh, wet coughs that has him wincing. “Very sick. I only just woke up, but my head is just…” You don’t finish your sentence. Just make a very pained sound like a wounded puppy.

Jeonghan chuckles. “Gee, I wonder how you managed to get so sick. It’s not like walking home in the pouring rain without a coat makes you ill, isn’t it?”

You whine at that, upset. “Han, I told you, I was gonna call you but my phone was dead. I had no choice! Wanted to get home fast to see you,” you add in a mumble, sounding dejected.

He smiles at that. “It wasn’t like I was going anywhere, though,” he points out. “I was all comfortably squished on the couch. I wasn’t gonna disappear any time soon. You could’ve taken your time. Waited for the rain to pass.”

“Yeah, but still,” you huff petulantly, then sniff. “Can you make soup when you get back home?” you ask after a beat, and sniffle again. “And also buy some tissues? And meds? And give me cuddles?”

Jeonghan chuckles at how pitiful you sound, resisting the urge to coo. “No.”

“What?” You’re whining again, and you sound all bunged up but Jeonghan just smiles, amused. “But your darling Y/N is currently suffering the worst cold in the entire world.”

“But alas, I think my darling Y/N is the sole person to blame for this cold,” Jeonghan says, lips twitching upwards. “Don't you think so?”

“Come take care of me anyway.”

“No.”

You make a noise of discontent, sheets rustling as you shift around in bed again. “Hmph. Worst boyfriend ever. I’m breaking up with you.”

That makes him laugh, the stunned sound being pulled out of him by your deadpan tone, and he grins to himself out on the street, rounding the corner until his company building is in sight. “Whatever you say,” he singsongs. “I’ll see later, okay?”

“Whatever. Bye.” A pause. “Have a nice day.”

Jeonghan smiles as you hang up, looking fondly down at your contact name. He’s standing in front of the company entrance, now, and he has three minutes of his break left. Just enough time to get into the elevator and up to his office.

He pockets his phone, turns on his heel and traipses off to find the nearest pharmacy.

───────────── 🧂

You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep the entire day, constantly stuck in that drowsy, so-sick-that-nothing-feels-real state, and you’ve hallucinated Jeonghan coming home a total of thirteen times in the past five hours.

At least, you think it’s been five hours.

Maybe it’s been less than that.

Whatever. Time is weird.

The point is, your mind is all fuzzy and everything feels like it’s floating, so when someone who looks an awful lot like Jeonghan comes into the room, you just groan. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 has come to pay you a visit, it seems, so you just frown and give him the response that you’ve given all his other clones.

“Go away. Stop trying to sell me fish.”

Hallucination Jeonghan #14 makes a confused noise at that, walking closer to your bed, leaning over to adjust your pillows and pull you up into a more upright position.

“I don’t want your fish,” you say, just in case he didn’t hear you the first time. “Stop it.”

That makes the hallucination chuckle, and his hand comes up to your forehead. 

Cold. Huh. None of the other hallucinations touched you before.

His hand drops from your forehead, swiping at the soft skin under your eyes gently, and his fingers are blessedly cool against your skin. You hadn’t realised how much you were burning up before.

“You’re really, really sick,” Hallucination Jeonghan #14 murmurs, and he sounds so concerned, before pulling out a bottle of water from one of the plastic bags he’s holding. Woah, you hadn’t even realised he was holding them. “Here, darling. Drink.”

You obediently take a sip once he uncaps the lid for you, before making small noises of distress when some of it spills down your shirt. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 (wow was it a mouthful to say, even in your head) just hushes you gently, dabbing at it with tissues that he’d procured from the plastic bags. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, and his hands take yours, clasping them around the bottle. Once you’re holding it, he gets up, and for a horrible moment, you think this hallucination is going to leave again. You kind of like this one.

“Where’re you going?” you ask, but it comes out as more of a slur of vowels. You’re not sure he understood a word.

 “Drink up,” is all he says. He fishes out a packet of pills from the bag (it’s like a magic bag, you think blearily. It seems to have everything inside it). “Have these as well, okay? I’ll go make that soup you wanted.”

You nod, blinking. Dutifully, you sip the water that the hallucination has left you, because really this was one of the most gentle, doting, Jeonghan-like Hallucination Jeonghan and it kind of feels like he really does have your best interests at heart. 

Unlike the other Hallucination Jeonghans, who just wanted to sell you fish. This one really seemed to care about your well-being. 

You blink again, slowly. 

Oh. 

By the time Jeonghan comes back with a gently steaming bowl of chicken soup on a tray with a mug of tea, you're more lucid than before, pouting at him as he comes closer, having remembered his last words before you’d hung up the phone.

“You said you weren’t going to take care of me.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, setting the tray on the bedside table, before sitting down on the edge of your bed, wordlessly picking up the bowl and spoonfeeding you some soup. You open your mouth easily, and he hums in approval with a smile.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my darling be sick all alone, hm?” he says. “I can’t do that. Especially if you’re also seeing hallucinations of me who are trying to sell you fish.”

He continues feeding you soup in tiny sips, and the entire situation feels weirdly vulnerable, with you propped up on pillows and Jeonghan making small noises of approval every time you successfully swallow a spoonful. Like you’re a little baby bird, or something.

But he smiles so lovingly at you the entire time, so it’s kind of hard to feel too embarrassed.

“Well done,” Jeonghan murmurs, once you’ve finished half of the bowl. Your boyfriend is affectionate, almost overbearingly so at times, always poking you in the side or pinching your cheeks or tweaking your nose, but the softness with which he treats you right now is a whole other level of affection entirely.

Jeonghan cares deeply for you. You know that. You’ve never doubted how much he loves you, and he never gives you reason to doubt it. But still, when he smooths down your hair and strokes the back of your hand and gazes at you so gently, it makes you realise yet again that oh God, he loves you.

“We’re going to get you to finish the rest of the soup in a minute,” he says, reaching down towards the plastic bag at his feet, “but first. I wanted you to have this.”

Out of the bag, he pulls out…

A fluffy bunny plushie.

You blink, tilting your head, sniffing in confusion and also to try and unblock your bunged up nose. “What?”

“Say hi to Jjongie,” Jeonghan says. “He came up to me when I was buying your soup, and I couldn’t not bring him home.” The bunny’s pink ears flop adorably into its eyes as he holds out the soft toy to you. It even has a cream coloured ribbon around its neck. “He’s gonna keep you company whenever I can’t be here for you.”

“Oh,” you say softly, taking Jjongie from him with a smile. You rub your thumb over the soft fur of the bunny’s cheek. “He’s adorable.”

Jeonghan beams, proud. “Of course he is. He’s a me-substitute.”

You look up at him, smiling. “Han, I—” You can’t finish your sentence, too choked up. Literally. You suddenly start coughing, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Jeonghan rushes forward with the mug of tea and an opened box of tissues that he suddenly procured out of nowhere.

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to cry over it,” he says teasingly as you glare at him, eyes tearing up from how hard you’re coughing. You accept the tissues and, when he pushes the tea insistently in you direction, you take the mug too.

“Yeah, yeah.” You blow your nose with one hand and then drink the tea, noting with a smile the subtle notes of honey in it. “Thank you,” you add, softly, looking down at Jjongie in your lap. Jeonghan really has gone out of his way for you.

Jeonghan just shakes his head, picking up the soup bowl again. “Thank me once you get better,” he says. “You can take care of me after. I’ll probably be catching your illness from looking after you.”

You grin, blowing your nose again, and even you can’t miss the way that Jeonghan watches you, eyes devastatingly fond.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna look after me anyways, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan grins, unashamedly bright. He taps the spoon against your lips, smiling wider when you sip the soup, the mug of tea in your hands, Jjongie the bunny in your lap. 

“Duh. I love you too much not to.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[symmetricalkazekage]

Ta da!! I finally finished my All 4-1 TMNT entry!! I was going to use the pocky prompt, however I came up with this idea after reading the others properly. I will eventually reword this, so it'll fit my fic im writing (TMNT of course) but I wanted to test the waters of this idea first.

I did change the prompt a bit to fit, but you should still recognise it well enough. I also had a song on repeat while writing this, and for me it works well. Just don't read into the lyrics too much 🤣 ill link it, and I recommend you have it on repeat as well, feel the magic.

The character Scarlett is my own self insert, as I see her as how look, but just a different name. Just FYI

Tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @dilucsflame33 @m1dnyt3-w0lf @post-apocalyptic-daydream @leosgirl82 @tmnt-tychou @nittleboo

Please let me know if you'd like to be ragged in the next one!!

⚠️ Aged up characters, a little spice, like the tiniest bit ⚠️

City Lights (Donnie x OC)

‘Okay, Scarlett, truth or dare!’ Michelangelo yelled with much enthusiasm.

‘Dare!’ she fired back.

The immediate glint Mikey got in his eyes made her regret her choice almost immediately. This game of “Truth or Dare” had been the idea of her friend Ashley. All her friends were finally allowed to meet Donnie, and in turn his brothers. They were reluctantly allowed into the lair, something about being a good host. Almost instantly were her friends all over the place, sussing out every inch of the place; from the boombox wall to what the turtles called their bedrooms, they were even wanting to go down the waterslide.

It was becoming quite overwhelming; Leonardo had begun to lose his patience and Raphael was trying not to pummel down the headless chooks that were Scarlett’s friends. Mikey was sadly joining the shenanigans and Donnie stood nervously to the side as he began to panic, verbally announcing his thoughts that maybe it had been a bad idea. Scarlett made eye contact with Ashley, a look that she knew all too well. It meant that “Mother was not pleased with her children”, she had looked around before she grabbed the nearest thing to her; it just happened to be a glass bottle.

‘Ice breaker! Spin the Bottle Truth of Dare!” she had yelled. Silence befell the group before said children ran to the makeshift couch of wooden pallets and cushions, each of them claiming a position. Each of the turtles shared a look, before they too joined the group, Scarlett being the last one to find a seat.

The first few rounds were harmless, simple truths and harmless dares. But once the ice broke, things began to switch up very quickly. Scarlett had constantly picked truths but was forced to choose dare to keep things interesting. Hence her now predicament, and she was unsettled by the grin that had made its way to Mikey’s mouth and the low, evil chuckle that was produced from his belly.

‘I dare you to kiss Donnie,’ he had said, giving her some form of Kubrick stare that was more menacing than threatening.

Scarlett’s faced had matched Donatello’s as everyone around her erupted into either cackles or whoops of either teasing or encouragement. Sheer surprise washed over both their faces, and the nerves that festered in Scarlett’s chest was almost painful. They stared at each other for a few more moments, the group around them having grown quiet as they waited in anticipation; eventually, Scarlett swallowed her nerves and rose from her seat and took those few steps to stand in front of the purple dressed reptilian. he was trying to protest, saying that she didn’t have to do it, but she simply shook her head. She reached out and grabbed his face with a little more force than she had wanted, her nerves still floating around somewhere; she looked him in those golden orbs of his as she removed his goggles from the top of his head before planting a soft kiss there, replacing the goggles to their position once more.

Donatello stared blankly at her as she made her way back to her seat, ignoring the protests of both her friends and his brothers. Some comments being that she had done it wrong, and others saying that wasn’t the kiss that was meant to happen.

‘You didn’t specify what kind of kiss, or where. You just said to kiss him.’ Scarlett protested back, crossing both her hands and feet. ‘And besides,’ she looked between all four terrapins, ‘I think that it's safe to assume that you guys haven’t even had your first kisses yet.’

Each of the ninjas had looked away and began to shift uncomfortably at the truth spoken. The “Aws” and “that’s so sadorable” had began to ring through the lair, and it looked like the turtles were either about to snap angrily or cry, mainly Mikey looked like he was gonna cry.

‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of at all!’ Scarlett piped up, successfully gaining their attention again. ‘Think of it this way, I didn’t kiss Donnie the way you thought, because your first kiss should be shared with someone special, someone you love. And not used on a dare.’ She had added a small laugh at the end, hoping and succeeding in dispelling any negative thoughts. They smiled, which made her smile, her heart still resounding beats in her eardrums.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been a few months since that day down in the lair, and ever since then her and Donatello had grown closer. It was kind of like a trust exercise that had opened their friendship up more. But pretty soon, Scarlett had noticed a change in Donnie’s behaviour. He had become more gentlemanly than usual, inviting her over to help on his projects (something about her smalls hands being able to reach the smaller spaces), and also inviting himself over (something about wanting to see her bougie bathroom he’d heard so much about). Not that it was bothering her, she was enjoying the attention.

It had gotten to a point where she had chosen to remain oblivious to the emotions welling up inside her whenever he would invite her out, for just some one-on-one chill time. She constantly had to remind herself that he was just a friend, and he was being nice. But it didn’t stop the butterflies, and it sure as hell didn’t stop the feelings begin to blossom for the giant turtle man. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t worth it, that she wasn’t worth it; he would eventually get bored of her if she feigned ignorance enough, and he would go off and find someone to share these heartfelt moments with.

Whenever Scarlett was alone, she would always think back to the icebreaking day. The way his face flushed upon closer inspection, and the way he slightly trembled under her touch; she wanted to see it again, she wanted more of it. But then she would remember the words she had spoken “…your first kiss should be shared with someone special, someone you love…”, and she would force her heart back down her throat; she would keep this crush under wraps.

But it was getting harder to keep it hidden, whenever Donatello was around now, they would almost always end up close with mere inches between them. And when that happened, her face would blush, and her breathing would hitch. And every time, their faces would inch closer and closer, able to feel each other’s breath on their lips. But every time, they were either interrupted, or her own words would ring in her ears and cause her to bail. It was like each time he would purposely try and find a way to get her in his arms, and her façade would falter each time. His touch, unique smell, and the way his words would blanket her; it was beginning to drive her insane.

It had been her most recent, and obviously romantic, moment with Donatello that had completely wrenched her heart and let slip through the want and desire that had been building for months now. Donatello knew how much Scarlett loved the rain, so he had planned to take her to a high point before it hit, so that she could enjoy the very first droplets before the heavens opened up. Since she lived in Manhattan, he had dropped onto her balcony and whisked her away to the top of the Manhattan Bridge. Scarlett was scared yet thrilled to be up so high.

‘What are we doing up here?’ she asked, daring to lean over to look at the traffic that drove by; their headlights illuminating the roads in the darkness of the night.

‘Just wait,’ he simply said, giving her one of those heart fluttering smiles that she had begun to fall for.

She had wanted to question further, but the cold drops of water on her head made her stop. She looked up to the sky, just in time to see the shower that had immediately began to pour over the city and the bridge. Scarlett had forgotten almost instantly about her heart as she grinned, raising her arms up to the sky with open palms. Donatello had just stood there, watching her with complete love and awe in his eyes. His heart swelled with so many emotions, and to him, it felt right; he just wished that she would reciprocate.

Scarlett had begun to dance atop the bridge, her arms flowing like water as she closed her eyes. It was no surprise that Donatello would join her, he just always had to be a part of her little dances. And she loved that about him. All thoughts of avoidance now gone from her mind, she allowed herself to be led around the small space. This way and that, Donatello led her to a songless dance, occasionally twirling and dipping her. This sent her heart into spirals as the heat from her nerves made her feel a small shiver from the cold downpour. Scarlett felt herself being spun out, so she planned to spin out with a flurry. However, she had miss stepped and slipped on a small lip of metal. All at once, she had felt herself falling over the edge, only to be grabbed by the arm and pulled into a hard chest.

Scarlett looked up to see Donatello’s worried face inches from hers again, water droplets on his glasses, more droplets running down his face. She had locked eyes with him, bad idea. She became frozen. He held her in his gaze, his arms slowly tightening around her body; her own arms held close to her chest and her palms pressed to his chest plate. No words were spoken, but hearts pounded loudly in both their chests; the sound of the cars below them and the sound of the rain pelting the metal frame of the bridge being the only other sounds that were heard. Scarlett was anxious, she wanted to pull away, but the spell Donnie had her under refused to let her go. “…your first kiss should be shared with someone special, someone you love…”, her own words echoed again, but this time it was very quiet, like it had been forced to the back of her mind. Her eyes flicked between his lips and those golden orbs, and seeing his own eyes do the same made her flutter even more.

He began to move closer, and she did the same, balling her fists against him as one of his hands moved to her upper back, to guide her forward. It was like a storybook moment in one of her many romance novels, and it was happening right now. Both their eyes were half mast, and they were mere millimeters now, each hot breath mingling with one another. Was it finally going to happen?

The sound of Donatello’s radio pulled them both out of their trance, it was Leo; he was calling for his brother for a new mission. With a sad look that would crush sad puppies in a competition, Donatello replied, letting his brother know that he was on his way back now. He looked into Scarlett’s eyes once more before scooping her into his arms, and took her home. When they had reached her balcony, he hung off the fire escape ladder as he set her down gently. When she was on her feet, Scarlett looked up and thanked him for the night out. He just hummed his answer, and made no effort to move from his position. The look on his face killed her, he looked absolutely miserable, and it was heart breaking.

Scarlett stepped forward; she knew what she was about to do was against her better judgement, and it would ruin everything that she had been trying to uphold. But at this point, she couldn’t handle seeing him this way. It pained her in ways that physical wounds would pain any normal person. She touched his forearm and planted a soft kiss to his cheek. It was short, but it was sweet.

‘Thank you again, Dee. I… had a really good time tonight,’ and she gave him a soft grin.

She watched the corner of his lips curl into a grin, there’s the Donnie she loved. Scarlett stepped back as she watched him bow his head to her before leaping away into the night, watching until she could no longer see his figure. She opened her door and walked straight to the bathroom, wet footprints leading a path there. She languidly peeled her clothes off before stepping into a hot shower. She leant against the wall and sank to the ground, letting the memories of earlier replay over and over in her head. It was all she could do, before she broke down into those heartbreaking tears she had been holding back for so long.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Scarlett rubbed her eyes, now slightly puffy and tingly from the water and her own tears mixing. A simple singlet and shorts made up her pyjamas, pulling her half dry hair up into a ponytail before giving up and letting her forming ringlets and curls bounce back around her face. Standing in her living room in the dark, she wrapped her arms around herself; she felt the numbness begin to overtake her as the lights of the city trickled through the gap in her curtains and the open windows along her wall. She felt cold. There was something about that embrace of his that made her feel so warm and safe, something about the strong arms that made her body burn for more. I want his arms around me again.

A tapping on her balcony door pulled her from her thoughts. The rain had somewhat died down while she was in the shower, had it picked back up? She walked to the door and pulled the curtains, jumping back a little when she saw the giant purple terrapin standing there. His frame was slightly hunched, but his eyes burned with a fire she couldn’t place. Scarlett had barely opened the sliding door between them, Donnie had grabbed it and pushed it open and basically forcing his way into her apartment towards her. The movement and his hulking frame making a little fear build up in her as she backed away quickly, hoping that the space would grow.

‘How long are you going to keep driving me insane!’ he yelled, his hands clenching beside him.

Scarlett blinked at him.

‘How long are you going to keep ignoring my advances?’ he asked, his voice dropping a little.

‘W-what are you-‘

‘Don’t play coy with me; it won’t work.’

‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Donnie,’ she lied. She knew exactly what he was talking about, she was just hoping she sounded convincing.

‘You’re really going to lie to me? You’re really going to pretend like you have no idea how I feel about you?’ he pressed.

Scarlett stuttered, she hadn’t expected him to be so confronting about it. He hadn’t seemed the type, more like the type to let things fester until there was nothing left. How had she been so wrong?

‘I had no idea what was going on with me,’ he began, his eyes drifting to the floor, ‘I didn’t know if I was sick, or if I had somehow developed a condition, even with the mutagen. Then the memory of that game came back to me, and my entire body flared with heat and my heart went wild, while the nerves in my stomach kicked up a storm…’

‘Donnie…’

‘Please… let me finish. It only got worse the more you were around. I thought I was just happy, happy that someone was finally accepting of my brothers and I. I was, I am, but it turned out to be more than what I had originally theorized. Every moment with you, I felt nerves kick around more and more; every accidental or purposeful touch make my skin burn. And then, when you’re gone, my heart would hurt, and I’d become miserable; I sought many different ways to distract myself, but that only worked for the short run.’

Scarlett remained silent as she listened to his words, feeling her own heart begin to swell. She knew where this was going; her head was telling her to stop him and escape, but her heart kept her in place, letting every word sink in heavily.

‘I honestly wanted to reject these feelings, I’m the tech guy, I can’t be distracted by such emotions. It was really getting to me, and it must have been quite noticeable because you came over. I didn’t tell you why, but you made it your own mission to make sure I was okay again. And the smile you gave me,’ he sighed as he remembered, a grin forming, ‘that smile had solidified the theory and research: I’m in love.’

The woman’s breath hitched, and Donatello looked up at her, that grin still plastered there. ‘Wha...’

‘I had made it my mission to get you to see that, to see me. I made every calculated advancement I could, planned every event and outing to a “T”. And it’s working; try as you may, you couldn’t hide your heart from me. I had specifically analyzed every situation to determine the best approach each time, and each time should have ended with a kiss…’ his pause was surprisingly loud in the deafening apartment, his head falling again. ‘It should have ended with a kiss… but you always bailed or the moments interrupted. Much like tonight, I was so close, so close to finally feeling like a million stars…’

Donatello’s eyes rose again, taking in her form with newfound confidence and purpose in that gaze. He started to march toward her again, making Scarlett back away from him.

‘Donnie, wait a minute!’

‘But I’m over being disrupted. And I’m over you teasing me and then pulling away!’ his voiced raised again. ‘You said that we should wait, only kiss the person we choose, someone we love! Well, I choose you! I want to kiss you!’

Her back had hit a wall and Donatello seized that moment to stand right in front of her. His giant body stood over her, his sheer height was intimidating enough at a few feet apart; so, him being practically right on top of her was even more daunting. Her eyes were wide as she stared into the space below her feet, the beat of her heart thundering away in her chest, she was sure that Donnie could hear it from his position. That man heard a whispered conversation from the kitchen to the living room in the lair! Her arms were stiff at her sides, her hands balled into fists, her body now shaking as her nerves wracked her entire being. Her mind was running in circles, so when his left hand reached out for hers she had jumped. She dared to look up, something that she knew was going to be a bad idea. And it was, the look he was giving her made her melt. His eyes, his golden eyes held so much love, want and desire; it was so strong a gaze, but somehow warming at the same time. Scarlett relaxed a little bit, letting Donatello fully grab her tiny hand in his large one.

‘Can I- May I kiss you…?’ he had whispered it, but the question reverberated off the walls.

As her heart screamed, she gave a wordless nod. Their eyes never left each other as Donatello pulled his left hand up, Scarlett’s still clasped in his. He put it to his plastron effectively pulling her a little closer, and she swore she could feel his own heart racing a mile a minute. That’s where he left it, before he ever so gently grabbed her face; he marveled at how tiny it was compared to his hands, and it made him chuckle softly. Scarlett’s eyes had flicked down to his lips and then back to his eyes, not shocked that his eyes had done the same; it was like he was still seeking permission having already received it. So she lifted her unoccupied hand to hold his own, and that must’ve been the push he needed.

He leant in, both of them closing their eyes, and barely brushed his lips over hers. Both their breaths caught in their lungs, as they looked at one another again. He moved again, brushing his lips over hers again but with a little more force. And again. And again. And again. Each time with a little more force than the last. But with each kiss he gave her, their breaths were growing heavier and Scarlett began to lean in even closer. The butterflies in her stomach were growing wild, and she knew that Donnie was feeling the same. She didn’t understand why she had left this so long, this feeling. It was a like a literal dream come true. She loved the feeling of his mouth on hers, it was like beautiful magic, all the tingles and electricity running through her entire body. And it was making her hungry for more.

Scarlett wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down into her more. He groaned, proceeding to wrap his large arms around her tiny frame and pressing her into the wall. The sensation that ran through her body made her moan as the battle for dominance began. They kissed hungrily for a moment longer before Donnie was pulling away. Their lips now slightly swollen and red, both beings panting hard. He began to step away from her, but she grabbed his arm.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked softly, trying to get her breathing under control.

‘I can’t continue…’ he strained, not looking her in the eyes anymore, and she already missed it.

‘Why…’

‘I’m scared. I’ve waited so long for this, but I’m afraid if I keep going…’ he turned his head slightly, ‘I’m afraid I might devour you.’

His admittance made her core ignite, and she trembled. She stepped around and faced him, making him look at her.

‘Then devour me, I’m all yours.’

His eyes blew wide as she held her hands to him, making gentle grabby hands. His mouth hung open as he stood there, letting every word wrap his brain into a tight hold and strangling any rationality he had left. Without warning, his arms were around her again, pulling her body flush with his own. Lips now clashed for dominance again as his hand made its way into her hair, gently tugging on the strands to try and coax a noise out. And he succeeded, the groan that came from her throat egged him on. Scarlett’s nails began to dig into the large arms of his, his own groan of pleasure coating her in what she would describe as a “warm honey” feeling. He wasted no time in dipping slightly to pull her up, her legs reflexively wrapping around his waist, the kiss never breaking once.

Donatello sat them both on the couch, moaning at the feeling of Scarlett’s weight on him. They separated for a small moment to breath some much needed air, before the need for more overcame them. Their hands began to roam over every surface of each other; they kissed so desperately as the tried to pull each other even closer, if that was even physically possible. Scarlett’s hands and nails ran along his neck and shoulders making him growl, and Donatello responded by harshly grabbing her hips and pulling her even more flush with him making her squeak with pleasure.

Nothing existed to them in that moment. It was just Scarlett with her Donatello, pouring their feelings, hearts, wants, and desires out through their intimate and much needed make out session. As they embraced each other, “I love you”’s rang through the room, their figures illuminated only by the city lights.

[firedragon1321]

So Something I Noticed With Character Questionnaires/Interviews

This is for new characters only. 

I don’t know if you’ve seen character interviews or questions floating around, but basically, they’re questions you ask your characters. It’s like you’re interviewing a real live person in front of you. I used them in high school to get the ball rolling, but not really recently. The protagonist of my newer series is being stubborn, so I turned to them again. And I learned something.

(There’s a long section of examples from my own writing, which contains all the triggering content in the tags. If you don’t want to read that or you just want the advice, skip to the bolded sentence that starts with “So this is a long way of saying...”.)

Characters you’ve worked with for a million years can answer most questions blindfolded. Even if they’re reluctant to answer or the question is irrelevant, you can pretty much figure out how they’ll respond. 

I can’t ask Soren some of the questions categorized under sex/intimacy, because he’s twelve and a virgin (i.e.- “When was your first time?”). But I could still picture his response- “Never. Why do you wanna know, anyway?”, followed by becoming defensive (folding arms across chest, looking away, possibly reaching towards his pocket for a weapon, etc.). He struggles against antagonists who care way too much about whether or not he’s a virgin. For context- he’s a cartoon character dropped into reality who has to fight an organization with too much horny and money, which exclusively targets toons. His interactions with this group shape the deflection of this answer.

The difference between Soren- a character I’ve worked with for years- and a new character is asking a difficult or irrelevant question results in nothing. There’s a generic “I dunno” at best, writer’s block/empty brain at worst. To deflect a question, a character has to already have a personality. Otherwise you- the author- encounters a heavy void of resistance. It just feels like nothing. After a while, it makes you frustrated or upset, ending the “interview”. You can only ask a rock about its dreams so many times before you realize it’s a rock.

I noticed- with my new protag- that there was empty brain with almost every question on a 253 question list. There was only one that I made progress with. It was “Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?”. He has a brother who was sent to an institution when they were both young, for a phony mental illness (this work is a dystopia, so this kind of dark, mean shit is everywhere). Just before his brother was cleared to go home for appearing “normal”, he died due to poor conditions at the hospital. There were preparations for him to return home- a bed shoved into the protag’s room, and a lot of talk about what the reunited family would do together. So the protag was at least semi-aware of every step in the “returning home” process.

This is all stuff I wrote in my notes. This is all stuff I know already. But when I proposed the question to my character- instead of running into a brick wall- I could see him in my mind’s eye, and I could hear his voice. I got a generic response- “I don’t want to talk about it.”. But it was a response. It’s something worth pursuing another day.

So this is a long way of saying- if you get one of those monster questionnaires, here’s how to handle it for a brand new character-

Always, always, ALWAYS have a blank questionnaire saved to your computer as a backup, or to use with multiple characters.

Make sure the questions in your list- whether homemade or online- are sorted in general categories, instead of all over the place. I used this questionnaire, which may be too long for you, but is a good example on how to sort questions. http://thelabotomyofawriter.blogspot.com/2010/04/epic-character-questionairre-part-one.html

Ignore the most basic questions (what is your name, what color are your eyes, etc.). You don’t need your character’s input for those. The only exception is if those questions includes “how do you feel about your name/eyes/etc.”, because that prompts a meaningful answer (namely- how does your character feel about their appearance?).

If you hit a wall, skip the question. It is either unimportant to your character, or they aren’t developed enough to answer it yet.

If you can mentally see your character and hear their voice when they refuse to answer a question (even if all you get is a generic “I don’t want to talk about it”), remember which question it was. Copy-paste the question into a new, blank document.

After trimming the fat, you should have only the questions that are most important to your character. If you feel you need more, copy-paste some questions from your original document related to those questions. For example- if your character has some response to a question about siblings- add questions related to family. In less focused categories, you can add from the same category, as long as it makes sense. “Do you have a criminal record?” and “What is your best memory?” might be together, but they’re different concepts.

As you answer the questions tailored to your character, they may grow enough to answer/deflect the other questions. If you want, you can trickle those in to see what happens. 

Remember that a well-characterized deflection is just as useful as an answered question. “I don’t want to talk about that” or another generic “no” response is a prompt to put the question aside and explore it later. “Talking about killing makes me uncomfortable. I can’t. Not after I killed him. Can we please skip this?” is a useful deflection. Even if you didn’t learn something about your character, it’s a sign that they’re “alive” enough to avoid the question in their own way.

Don’t try to answer all the questions for a new character. It’s not a “test” to see if your character can answer them all. Figure out what’s most important to them, then drip-feed other, related questions until their voice is more solid. You do not need to answer all the questions (except for fun- i.e- “How would you behave at black-tie events?” “I wouldn’t. They suck.”).

If you get frustrated or upset at any point- WALK AWAY. You won’t be able to hear your character’s voice if you’re slamming your head into a wall.

While the monster lists can be helpful or fun for characters you know, they’re frustrating for new imaginary children. Get the core of your character worked out first, then work your way from there. You can’t ask questions to a rock, but your character isn’t a rock. They just need sculpting.

UPDATE: I’ve made my own character questionnaire, if you wanna check it out- https://at.tumblr.com/firedragon1321/made-my-own-character-questionnaire/ly63olvpuczb

[jadelynlace]

Ivar & Children Part II / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡ (both of them, even better!)

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. Ivar with kids. That’s it. That’s the whole warning. also, another prompt request from @quantumlocked310 “tugging on someone’s shirt”

requested prompt one: Ivar with kids ( read another edition here )

requested prompt two: “tugging on the bottom of someone’s shirt.”

synopsis: it can never just be a quick trip to the store, can it?

✎

There’s a tug at the bottom of Ivar’s shirt, sending the fabric to stretch lightly and his first response was a word of mean natured curses but when his eyes fall on the unfamiliar child, they dissipate. 

“I can’t find my mommy,” The little boy says up to Ivar and he’s suddenly very confused as to why this random child pulled his shirt, out of all of the other patrons in the grocery store. “You have Capitan America’s shield on your shirt,” The child says and wipes his eyes again. Ivar bends down gently, leveling himself with the boy and smiles.

“Do you remember where you saw her last?” Ivar asks him and the little boy shakes his head.

“I was looking at the red spaw-get-ey,” He mumbles and Ivar’s brow furrows. “Where the big cow is,” He says and points to the wooden sculpture on the wall over the butcher’s counter.

“By the ground meats?” Ivar asks and the little boy nods quickly, sucking snot up through his nose. “Do you know what she’s wearing?”

“She has jeans on like you do.” He mutters.

“What’s your name?” Ivar asks.

“Jayden—what’s your name, Mister?”

“My name is Ivar, how about we go back to the butcher’s counter and see if she’s there?” Ivar asks and the little boy nods, taking Ivar’s hand without fail, without a second thought and Ivar leaves his spot, the few cans of Red Bull on the shelf as they walk. “What color is your mommy’s hair?” 

“It’s light, like mine,” Jayden answers. “You have drawings on your skin,” He then peeps. “My daddy has drawings on his skin too. What if we can’t find my mommy?” He whimpers suddenly and Ivar is still so shocked at how quickly young minds can float from one emotion to the next, one extreme to another and all of the times he’s seen Floki’s eldest have the same conniption, it still amazes him. 

“We’re going to find her Jayden, alright? I’ll stay with you until we do,” Ivar says, ruffling the blond waves on the kids head. 

You round the corner to the aisle and Ivar isn’t there anymore, and you’re about to pinch the bridge of your nose. One job, you gave him one simple task and he’s still missing from the spot and now you’re on the hunt for him through the entire store. You have a speech, a lashing prepared on your tongue if you so dare to find him wandering through the baby clothes again with the excuse for Floki’s youngest—when you know damn well he’s in the wrong size section. And Floki’s youngest son doesn’t wear dresses. And he knows damn well that excuse doesn’t work. Ivar has imaged the two of you having children together—having a daughter let alone, breaking the Ragnarsson curse (that everyone so lovingly calls it), of boy after boy after boy. Ivar was one of five. He has five nephews. Torvi’s pregnant with her and Ubbe’s third child and they don’t even bother to throw gender reveals anymore, because it’ll be a boy. And Ivar is god damn convinced when he has a child he’s going to pray, to beg every God about having a little girl. Because with him for her father, and you for her mother, and in the company of five—six boy cousins, no fucker will dare to touch a hair on her head. He’s still going to teach her how to throw a punch though.

You catch him in your sight at the butcher’s section, little boy latched onto his hand for dear life and you’re as confused as all hell. A blonde woman comes up to him quickly and the young boy dances happily as he jumps into his mother’s arms. You watch Ivar tell the woman about how her son found him, and said he couldn’t find his mom anymore.

“He has a Capitan America shirt on, Mommy. And drawing on his skin like Daddy does!”  The little boy said and Ivar only smiles as the woman thanks him time after time.

“He’s never in the same place, I turn my back for one second and he’s gone,” She sighs.

“Sounds like you, Ivar,” You say as you come up next to him.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it,” She says again.

“My pleasure,” Ivar smiles and they start back off. “What?” Ivar asks as he looks down at you.

“Nothing…” You sing and there’s a cocky grin on your face. “Thought maybe you tried to kidnap a child,”

“Oh—oh my fucking God,” Ivar groans, rolling his eyes and walking around you.

“Where are you going?” You call.

“To get my God Damn Red Bull,” Ivar calls back.

“Can we look at baby clothes after?” You ask as that man nearly trips over his own two feet per your request.

Ink Drinker Tags:

@dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @smileysam13579 @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Heartbreak For A Gift (Part 1/?)

Synopsis: Sometimes relationships start off like love stories in books. And sometimes they fall apart in a minute.

(Kind of an AU! I guess??)

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst bruh

Warnings: swearing, sadness, angst, but nothing else that I can remember. Minimal editing

Word count: 2547

A/N: Please note I don’t know what the situation is between Harry and Olivia, if it’s a stunt or they’re actually dating. Whatever the case do not harass them. This is fiction and only for the purposes of the story. If they’re actually together - GOOD FOR THEM!!! No one is entitled to other people’s private lives!

Can be read as a one-shot if ya want, but I might turn this into a very small series cause I already have ideas as to where to go further with this, so hit me up if that’s what you’d like :)

If you know you’re a part of my tag list and see you’ve been crossed out, it means I can’t tag you for whatever reason. If you still would like to be a part of my tags please message me with your previous username and updated so I can update my lists :)

When she’d first said yes to going out with Harry, she’d had zero ideas as to who he really was. Well, that was a lie, she obviously knew of him, it’s not like she completely lived under a rock, and she’d seen a couple of his interviews, but 'One Direction' or Harry Styles as a solo artist hadn’t been that big of parts of her life, so she didn’t really care much for it.        They’d met at a bookstore on a sunny day in London. That’d been a good day. Her boss had let her go home a bit earlier than usual, the weather was warm, but not it’s-so-warm-I’m-sweating-my-ass-off kind of warm, sunglasses covering her eyes and hair free as the warm summer winds blew through her locks she was walking beside the Thames on her way inside the heart of the city.        Because she had a little bit more free time, she decided to pop into Waterstones, which was generally not a good idea for Y/N to do if she had things in store for the day; this time she could spend the rest of the evening if she wanted to, browsing books and living her best life.        Surprisingly for London, that particular Waterstones, even though it was in a densely populated area, was pretty empty, so Y/N felt free to skim through the options without having to press through a crowd of people to find the next section.        As she scanned what the shelves of New-Adult fiction offered, a man also came to look at the books. He stayed a bit further away, but he was certainly someone who caught people’s attention with the bright green daisy-print covered T-shirt, chequered shorts and the three scrunchies on his wrist.        The thing was as much as he’d grabbed Y/N's attention, she was more interested in the Waterstones exclusive edition of a book she’d been dying to buy, so when she saw it just sitting on the shelf, a small gasp escaped her lips.        Two eyes were immediately on her, and Y/N could feel them slip back onto her form from time to time as she greedily paged through the book, but she couldn’t say her own Y/E/C eyes didn’t flit over to the man as well.        He had a small bun on the top of his head, curly hair pushed away from the face, cheekbones for days, which were shaved and smooth and perfectly groomed brows arching over what seemed to be green orbs which were looking at the spine of a crime book way too intensely for it to be genuine interest. All in all, his side profile would be that of one of the characters Y/N’d simp over in a book, let alone the nails painted all colours of the rainbow which made her happy because nothing was better to see someone sticking it to the patriarchy.        But their little meet-cute was interrupted as an employee apologised while he tried to squeeze past them with a giant cart filled with new release books, and almost like a lost puppy, she started to follow the stacks of books when a hand on her shoulder made her spin around only to be faced with the man. She instantly recognised his face, but, at the same time, couldn’t really pinpoint what it was about him that was so familiar.

       “Sorry,” he said in a rough voice. “But you left this behind.”        And in his hands was the Waterstones exclusive.        Y/N’s eyes widened as she gingerly took it from him. “Oh my god, thank you! I’ve got no idea how I let it out of my fingers.”        He chuckled, motioning with his chin to the employee disappearing by the corner. “I’d say you got distracted.”        “Yeah, a little.” She bit her lip and drummed her nails against the cover of the book. “Well, uh… thank you. For not grabbing it for yourself.”        But he just lifted his hand. “More of a Murakami kind of a man.”        “Yes, well, I,” she nodded towards the book in her own hand, “like to read about people living out my dreams.”        He raised his eyebrow. “It’s a murder mystery.”        “Your point?”        “Would you say I have issues then if I wanted to ask you out on a date?”        Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, but he looked so nervous, so genuinely open and almost scared, she couldn’t feel any ill intentions from him, so she tapped her chin a bit as if contemplating before saying, “No. I’d say you have good taste actually.’        The relieved laugh he let out made him seem even prettier than Y/N already thought he was.        He extended his palm towards her, swaying on the balls of his feet a bit. “ ‘M Harry. Would probably be proper to know my name before we go anywhere further.”        “Y/N.” She smiled and clasped his hand in hers. “And it would probably be proper to know I was kidding about the whole ‘watching others live out my dreams’. People living out my dreams are actually in the books having hot sex with Fae.”        His laughter was loud and sudden, making Y/N duck down like she was in her Uni library and the librarians would come and shush them. But now, almost two years later since they’d first met, there was no sign of those butterflies she’d felt in the middle of the thriller section of Waterstones. Now Y/N was sitting by a large table, body slowly numbing as was her mind to keep the pain from her heart spreading. Whatever Jeff was talking about now, she didn’t hear. There were eyes on her, had to be to gauge her reaction, but they wouldn’t get anything more than slightly parted lips and a blank stare turned towards the marbled top.        She knew Harry was nervous; from her peripheral vision, she saw his thumb scraping at the rest of his nail lacquer, chips of pastel yellow and green polish flaking off and floating to the carpeted floor.        Y/N didn’t like LA. She’d never wanted to go there. Maybe as a tourist for a couple of weeks sometime down the line, but because of Harry and his commitment to ‘Don’t Worry, Darling’ and because he’d basically pleaded with her for days on end, she’d agreed to move there with him for the time he was shooting the movie.        It’s not that the city wasn’t beautiful. The sun, the sea, the greenery surrounding her was absolutely breath-taking, but it was the people that she didn’t really mesh with. Sure, she knew dating Harry came with a lot of what LA’s society was like. The need to look absolutely physically perfect to match the unachievable barbie standard, the fake niceness people usually exhibited just to get something for themselves or possibly raise them higher on the popularity scale, but Harry had always wiped away those doubts. But now all of that seemed like one big lie. He’d told her he didn’t care for any of it, not when it concerned Y/N nor when it concerned himself. But the contract in front of them said something different.        A hand touched her back. “Y/N?” Harry’s voice was tentative, wavering at the end of her name.        For the first time since the proposal had been thrown out, she lifted her eyes to look around at the people in the room.        Harry, Jeff, both their attorneys and Olivia Wilde and her attorney. The other woman, once their gazes met, immediately looked away. Y/N wanted to scoff at that.        “What…” Harry gulped, brushing a hand across her back. She’d never flinched away from him, but this time she did. Harry visibly shrunk in his seat and pulled back. “What do you think?”        What did she think? Well, she was thinking a lot of things, and the urge to say all of them was immense, but instead Y/N bit down on her tongue, reaching for the legal papers in front of her and skimmed through them.        She’d read each and every word as they’d been read out loud by the attorney, and every letter had been burned into her brain now. There was no way to get them out from her mind, and they’d haunt her forever.        “The fact that you’re asking me what I think of it already means you’re considering this.” Surprisingly enough, her voice was steady even though she was on the verge of collapsing after everything. “So, I’ll make this really easy for you – do it. Because, from now on, you’re a single man and you can do whatever the fuck you want.”        Harry’s face paled immediately at her words, hand moving to grasp Y/N’s, but they were in a tight ball in her lap, not moving an inch at his touch.        “Y/N, please.” Olivia was the one reaching out now, a pained and terrified look on her face, but the girl just stood up from her chair and went to the coat rack taking her coat and the bag that was discarded by it.        “No, you asked what I thought.” Tears had started to form in her eyes while she shrugged on her jacket. “This is what I think. If you even for a second assumed I’d be alright with this shitty stunt, Harry, then through the last two years we've spent together, you’ve learned nothing about me, and to me, it means it’s not worth it.”        Harry was now standing, desperate to touch her face, but Y/N once again pulled away.         “You two,” Y/N said pointing between Olivia and Harry, their faces twins of fear and regret. “Have never needed publicity. Not like this, so don’t try and bullshit me that this will make great promo for the movie. There are so many other ways you could drum up interest, but this…” She let out an unamused chuckle. “How could you think I’d be okay with you pretending to be in a relationship with someone else?”        “No, please… just hear us out. You don’t know what it’s like.” Harry tried to plead, hands in his hair, but it was the wrong thing to say, as she took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief.          But Y/N was calm, and with how rigid Harry became he knew he’d fucked up more than before.        “I don’t understand?" she breathed. “The number of things and events I’ve said ‘no’ to… the…” Her voice was as still as the sea before a storm as she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Harry wants Y/N there for the opening of his tour, so Y/N drops everything and flies out even though she misses a presentation that could have her up for a promotion. Harry doesn’t want to be seen walking inside a club with someone, so Y/N goes to the back entrance to save his face. Harry is tired and just wants to sleep, so Y/N passes on her friends’ birthdays because he wants cuddles. What Harry wants, Y/N does. And I did. I did all that happily while keeping our relationship private while snaking in and out through back doors like I was some dirty secret of yours just so you could keep the illusion you’re single…” Y/N shook her head. “I think I understand very well… But now… it’s my turn, my time to ask of you something.”        “Anything,” he pleaded, probably thinking that Y/N was going to ask him not to go with Jeff’s stunt, and he’d gladly tell them all to fuck off if it meant her staying. “I’ll do anything.”        “Let me go.”        If Harry’s heart hadn’t been in his chest you would’ve been able to hear it break as it smashed against the floor.        “Let me go,” she repeated. “And don’t come after me. Because I won’t take any part in this.”        “But –,” he was choking on his words. “But I don’t want to. I love you; I can’t just let you walk away like that. I won’t do it, none of this is worth it.”        “And I didn’t want to do a lot of things, especially sit in a meeting on Valentine’s day where my boyfriend was talking about faking a relationship to promote a fucking movie, but here we are.”        This time when he reached out to cup her cheek, Y/N let him. “Please. I swear I won’t do it, just please let’s talk about this. Don’t give up on me.”        But she was unwavering. “For the rest of our relationship, however long that might’ve been, I would’ve wondered if you hated me if you despised me for not agreeing to go with it if the movie didn’t do as well as your management predicts it will with this. And I won’t have that. I won’t be in a relationship where every second will be spent in doubt that I’m stifling your career and you could potentially resent me.”        “I could never hate you.”        “Yeah.” She let out a sob. “You actually claim to love me but would be willing to put me through that kind of fuckery, so something has to be a lie.”        Without looking at anyone else in the office, Y/N stepped away from the man who once made her feel like she could conquer the top of the world and opened the door, but didn’t even manage to take a step outside when the voice of the person she never wanted to hear from called after her, and although Y/N had been calm and collected, she snapped at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Jeff,” she snarled. “It’s not like I can talk about anything that happened here. You made sure of it. Smart move, by the way, I’d say you should continue it. NDAs right before any meeting… I guess that’s how you keep your clients' careers spotless, so your stunt won’t be exposed.”        The way she whipped around to move towards the door would’ve given her whiplash, if not for Harry standing in front of her, arms weaving around to keep her in place.        “I’m sorry." He was verging on hysterics. "Please just… please Y/N don’t…”        It seemed like he no longer even understood what he was pleading for. For Y/N to not break up? To not leave the room? LA? All he knew was that if he let her walk out of the door, he’d never see her again, and she’d make sure of it.        “No, Harry, I think I actually will, because the thought of being in the same city as you, is going to make me throw up right now,” Y/N said eyes not daring to meet his, because if she did, she'd break and her resolve would dissipate. “Besides, you have loads of things to talk about. By the time you get back, I’ll have my stuff out of the hotel. And Jeff?”        His manager looked sheepish as she glanced at Y/N.        “The least you owe me is a ticket back home. The first flight you can find.”        He didn’t answer, just nodded. She didn't deign to thank him.        “Happy fucking Valentines to you two.” She looked at Olivia and Harry, who was breaking apart at the seams, but no longer could she find it in herself to care. He didn’t care enough about her anyway. “Hope you have a very happy relationship.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​ @raylovessarcasm

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

A/N: I’m (kinda?) back? I guess. I dunno. I’m in this weird place where I’m writing my books and then I get inspo for fics and I start writing them, but can’t seem to finish them so I dunno :D

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. please don’t repost my works on other platforms (Wattpad Ao3 etc without specific written permission)

P.S.S.S. my tags are always open :)

[entities-of-posts]

alright. ask and you shall receive (also i saw ur tags, dw abt carbon monoxide. we got a carbon monoxide detector and it works perfectly fine)

honestly im not really sure where to start so i guess ill just list off some of the weird shit we’ve seen entity wise (not counting the mimics bc i think we already talked abt them)

glow in the dark baby: my personal favorite tbh. either manifests as an orb or a floating baby that glows blue. we’ve only seen this fella once or twice

furnace room man: fuckin. forgot what we named him so we’ll just go with that for now. anyways he’s like… some dude with some really bad burns and melty flesh. generally harmless, he just hangs out. the more friendly cousin of whatever else lives in there (we know nothing about them other than the fact they only tolerate our cats but absolutely HATE everyone else. the other things living in there, not furnace man)

chase: lives in our bedroom closet. creepy. we’ve never seen him fully, all we know is that he’s short and has a lot of hair covering his face. we always keep our closet closed so we never really hear much of him, but one night we accidentally left it open and the ENTIRE night he just kept saying “hey. hey come here. come into the closet” and we just. rolled over and went back to sleep because what the fuck else are you supposed in that kind of situation?? woke up a few hours later to see both of our cats on our bad hissing at the closet so there’s that

the observers: what their name suggests. they just watch people and follow them around. they don’t hurt people but when they pull up in numbers it’s SCARY. one time we got up late to get some water and there were 5 or 6 of them sitting around the coffee table. they don’t have any facial features or any defining characteristics besides being really tall and just being.. walking shadows, but i could see their heads move towards us so we BOOKED it back to our room. few seconds later they were outside our door just….. Staring.

weird guy: we think he might be a mimic but he’s actually come out during the day so im giving him his own category. anyways one time we were putting the dishes away and felt something fucking MASSIVE and soft brush against our leg. thought it was one of the cats but it reached too high on our leg to be one of them so we just went. ok whatever this might as well happen. continued putting the dishes away and we could see something huge running down the hall in the reflection of a knife we were holding and nearly damn dropped the thing on our foot. he looks like some weird… man bat wolf thing? idk. very physical entity. very vocal also, he can mimic our cats meows and also giggles a lot

victoria: awful. if i remember correctly she’s extremely pale, has long hair, and the rest of her body from the torso down is. gone?? anyways she likes to hang out in dark rooms. whenever we’re home alone at night she’ll try to get us to come into one of the rooms with her. i dont think she’s been around that much lately? but when she used to be, if we ignored her we’d wake up with some pretty nasty scratches on our arms and legs

michael: MAN FUCK THIS GUY. he just looks like a tall malnourished blonde man w no eyes or lips. he’s bound to the bathroom for whatever reason, but god fucking FORBID you cross paths with him when he’s in a bad mood. he pushes people, pulls their hair, grabs their arms or waists. he’s awful. we can deal w victoria but michael 2 are straight no’s from us

michael…. 2 i fucking guess: don’t have a name for her but basically she does the same thing as michael except she just kicks anyone’s ass that goes in the basement. most thing she does is stare at you, but if you look into her eyes you feel sick as shit out of nowhere

that’s… all i can think of off the top of my head. im not even sure if were rambling about these for shits and giggles trying to assign entities to them or finally letting this all out for our sanity and confronting it on a serious note but. well. it’s certainly there ig

The long awaited sequel to this ask! Long awaited mostly because it took me two days to get to it in the pile of statements, but still.

Well there’s… stuff going on here for sure. The mimics you talked about previously sound like the Stranger type, which could apply to Weird Guy and possibly Chase as well? The weird disappearing room in the first part of your statement could be Spiral, and frankly so could your whole closets-lined basement - I wouldn’t be surprised if opening those doors at just the right/wrong time lead to interesting developments. Victoria sounds like she’s got an affinity for the Dark, and so do the Observers just from their description as shadow beings but the fact that you described them as constantly watching points to the Beholding. Glowing Baby sounds like the light at the tip of an anglerfish’s lure, so do with that what you will. The Michaels seem to have some Slaughter in them but tame enough that you live to tell the tale, and Michael 2’s sickening stare could fall under the Corruption, or maybe the Spiral or the Vast if it’s more like vertigo/the nausea from a rollercoaster? Furnace man sounds like he got Got by the Desolation, but seems too chill to be Of it, though the same might not be said for his “cousins”.

Final diagnosis: you live at Hilltop Road. Or rather, a place of similar level of Bullshit, though you seem to be alive and… well? So whatever’s going on there probably isn’t as dangerous. Probably. Good luck?

[jjfics]

Room 19 ll 02

ship: Harry Potter x female!Reader

read part one here

summary: they finally meet the mysterious wizards after getting to know each other better that same morning

author: your bestie Jane Jack, also known as JJ

word count: 1760 (it is a bit shorter this time)

a/n: i am so so so happy some of you liked the first part so i will continue with this story. i wasnt on call this time so no news from my bff, sorry, ill ask them for a cool quote for next time though!

“Thank you, darling. We’ll take the seats in the corner. Could you bring us two coffees and,” Potter turned to look at you and raised his eyebrows “one croissant?” You nodded shyly.

“That would be 13£, but I’ll only charge you 10, the croissant is on me,” the woman taking your order smiled. “Since you have such a pretty girlfriend” she winked.

Your cheeks flushed red as Potter pulled your waist impossibly closer to him. “I know, right?” he chuckles.

The walk to the cafe was silent, but it felt different than the trip you two had the other day. There was no need to talk. In fact, you felt as though the moment you would open your mouth you would say something stupid about what happened last night, like apologizing for taking up so much space or doing something so unprofessional. But you did not want to apologize, because you had never felt less sorry for something. There was this weird energy between the two of you. You craved the feeling of being close to him again.

The table Potter chose was very strategic. The predictable head of the group of wizards and witches who called themselves the Forsakens would choose the grandiose table in the middle of the cafe. So the corner was a shadowed place where you would not have been recognized while you could very easily observe the others.

Still, benefits are tied to come with cons and so you were forced to cuddle into each other once again on a small leather couch. His hand did not leave your waist even as you sat down. It was hard not to notice such details, like how he could not keep eye contact for long when you spoke, how your hands brushed together when you both leaned over the table to take a sip of your hot coffee. You blamed it all on the weird situation you were in. In any other circumstances, he would not have been behaving like this, for sure.

“Hey, Potter. Could I ask you something?”

“You know you don’t have to call me Potter, right?” he smiled.

“We are work colleagues,” you said, but you wished you didn’t. Because you knew very well that saying things out loud only makes them more real.

“Yeah, but I don’t call you y/ln. I never heard you say you don’t like it when I call you y/n.” You did like it, it made you feel welcomed whenever talking to him, which until this morning was very rare. But you were not going to tell him that and feed his ego even more.

“It’s acceptable, but mind you, you are on thin ice,” you pointed a finger at him and his hand shifted softly on your waist as he laughed.

“It would be acceptable for you to call me Harry too, you know? I mean, we are supposed to be dating after all. For the mission.”

“For the mission” you agreed

“So you will call me Harry?”

“I will,” you promised. The gesture of reassurance alone made his head float.

While waiting for the Forsakens to appear you found out a lot about Harry. Many things surprised you. The papers always lie to make everything more attractive to their readers, but they also leave out the small details. Like how Harry still has panic attacks, even long after the war. How he always has nightmares about all the people he cared about.

“I feel sorry knowing this now,” you tried to empathize but it wasn’t going that well. You had never been part of war before.

“You don’t have to be. Not today, at least. I had quite a pleasant dream last night.”

“Oh, did you? And what was it about then?”

"Someone hugged me. I think it was a woman; I’m not sure. I didn’t get to see her face.”

“Is that all you remember?” you persisted. It broke your heart to know that this was his idea of a good dream: nothing extraordinary, but the most mundane form of comfort.

“Yeah, that’s all. What I know is that she was there in the beginning. It felt like she always had been” his eyes were distant as he talked. “She left me, and I was once again alone.”

And it was then that it all made sense to you. He was nice to you now because there were no nightmares to haunt him through the day.

You turned to face him and got really close to his face. “I’m so sorry. For being so shitty with you the other day,” you whispered. “It was just the stress from work.”

“I know.” he smiled. “It’s alright. I let myself get carried away too. We need to cooperate for the mission.”

“So does that mean that our little argument and Ben Nelson stepping in will not be included in the letter to the Minister for Magic?” you raised your eyebrows.

“Oh I totally am not telling Hermione any of that.” he laughed. “No, that will stay between us.”

It was around 11 am that you spotted some oddly dressed people enter the already busy cafe. In the lead was a tall woman who wore black heels and a long red satin dress with robes of a darker shade draped over her shoulders. Her face was covered by a long curtain of dark curly hair.

Just behind her were two other women, both slightly shorter. Those were dressed in the same way the first one was; the colors were the only thing that varied: their fair skin was adored by greens and purples.

The two men following them were both dressed in black suits that would not make them attract much attention if it weren’t for their companions.

The dark-skinned woman who was so obviously the one making decisions pointed to the big table in the middle of the cafe and her followers seated themselves. No words were spoken as she left them and entered a door the waitress once had.

“These must be them. They fit the description perfectly,” you mumbled and Harry nodded beside you.

“The head’s name is Anika. She has connections to the waitress as her mom’s sister. Anika is muggle-born. She never told her aunt that she’s a witch but she and her gang are allowed to gather here sometimes.” Harry said in a monotone voice. What a good professor he would have been.

“I read the instructions, Harry” you rolled your eyes at him. He smiled when he heard his name come from your lips.

“‘M just making sure, y/n.”

Anika returned quite quickly and she sat down on the side with the men, facing the other women. She took out a leather notebook from her robes and put it in the middle of the table.

“Does anyone know why it’s still here?” you could faintly hear her cold voice. Everyone else around her shook their heads.

“Heajin and I did our part.” the woman dressed in purple said defensively.

“So did Aaron and I,” one of the men on Anika’s right said more calmly, almost like he was trying to prove a point.

“I don’t care about what any of you did,” she looked them one by one in the eye. “I don’t want to hear you brag about how hard the task was for you, Aaron and Heajin. You two have always found everything challenging. I would normally be more forgiving, congratulate you even. But I can’t as long as this piece of absolute rubbish hasn’t dissolved.” Anika pointed to the notebook. “Understood?” she hit the table with her palm. The others did not flinch.

All of them nodded angrily, got up, and left the cafe in a rush. But it seemed as though their boss was not done talking yet. She scoffed, annoyed at the others’ behaviors, and vanished through the door after them.

Whatever you were expecting to happen today, was not this. The short discussion you had just overheard from your corner only brought more confusion. You had expected them to be a group of foolish wizards who want to rebel. But you had never expected them to be talking about real tasks. Rethinking everything now, you came to the conclusion that the situation was serious if Hermione Granger-Weasley sent her best two Aurors (and those had been her words) on a mission personally. She considered Ron one of the best too of course, but she would never risk his life if she could help.

It would make no sense for you to follow them. They would be back here the next day. Harry took out his wallet and put 15 pounds next to his cup on the table. He intertwined your fingers with his and got up as well. “Let’s go, love,” he said loudly enough, announcing that you were leaving now too.

Harry didn’t bother to look back at the cafe but you turned your head last second to see if anyone had a weird reaction to what had just happened. And you saw it sitting there. The small leather notebook was left in the middle of the table. No one seemed to take notice of the piece of rubbish being left behind. You squeezed Harry’s hand and he stopped just as he wanted to open the door and leave. You dragged him over to the table to make it less obvious.

“Look, babe, I told you there was a stain on the tablecloth on this one,” you said sweeping your hand over it and clenched your hand around the notebook. “It’s better that we sat over there.” Harry squeezed the hand that was still in his. He got your message.

You were panting hard as you threw the hotel door open. It was quite the work-out you got from running back here. Harry was behind you, locking it right back shut. You ran to the window and pushed it hard. Your whistle could be heard for miles probably. There was no time left to worry over your owl’s whereabouts as she was there in less than a minute.

She landed on your shoulder and bit your ear softly. “Good girl, Idiv.” you petted her grey head.

“y/n.” he shouted your name. “y/n, come here please!”

“What?” you turned around.

“We need to let Hermione know everything. As soon as possible. Get a quill ready.” he rushed you.

“Shouldn’t we read the notebook first?”

“Oh sure we will but we better start writing already and send Idiv on her way to the Ministry.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. tag list!

@ur-riddikulus @anyqueen008 @fuckingalohomora-bitch

[thismoleculeisacomedian]

WWI and PTSD in “Downton Abbey”

PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) is portrayed in some way for each character in DA who served during World War I. I’m going to break down each character’s mental status portrayal. (See tags for content warnings before proceeding; we’re talking about WWI here, so be forewarned: it is grim.)

Mr. Lang:

Here was the most obvious portrayal of PTSD, or shell-shock as it was known in this time period, as it was actually named as such. (Shell-shock, of course; it was not known as PTSD yet, nor would it be until after the Vietnam War.) Mr. Lang is not someone we see prior to the war/his military service, but can still certainly see the impact on his mental state. He had the following: flashbacks, night terrors, startle responses, moments where he seemed to hear artillery fire and other war noises, short attention span, feeling of being profoundly different from those around him, panic attacks....I felt so bad for him. If someone has incapacitating panic attacks and breaks with reality, they should be in a hospital. He was very sick. He is portrayed in a sensitive way, and gets some degree of compassion from the other characters (even Mr. Carson who isn’t...usually very sympathetic to anyone). It also showed his helplessness to handle his mental illness, which is the most accurate thing it could have done: no one can ‘fix’ themselves all by themselves, but the stigma around PTSD/mental illness at the time period meant that most of those people had to suffer in silence in a way that no one should have had to. The people around him respond in ways that often betray their discomfort, which likely stemmed from lack of understanding. 

Matthew: 

Matthew had one of the more subtle portrayals of PTSD among these characters; he didn’t convey a great deal of fear in battle or immediately after; however, those who know the signs and symptoms of PTSD know that the brief moments when he goes silent, and appears almost frozen with memory, that is a sign that he may be having slight episodes of dissociation. The cessation of sound and appearance of him being almost not in himself is a trademark sign of dissociation, or ‘floating above it’ as people often describe this sensation. There are times when it seems that he is the stereotypical war hero who is never thrown by the horrors, and who carries on as before, but anyone who can spot the subtler signs of PTSD can probably pick up on the fact that although he is alright, he is not okay.

Thomas:

Thomas, it conveyed had PTSD through both his actions, and through some stylistic techniques. Like Matthew, it conveys that he dissociated when the man he was trying to get to safety bleeds out in front of him and, more jarringly, his comrade gets abruptly shot through the head, within seconds of each other. Thomas was the character with whom we saw the most sudden, horrific kind of death that was characteristic of the western front. This makes sense, as he was a medic, and thus probably more than anyone else would probably feel responsible for the wellbeing of those around him. It’s easy to imagine that he felt a specific kind of guilt as a result; the guilt of perhaps feeling he’d failed those he was supposed to help. His trauma is also portrayed through his actions: namely, the blind fear of death (”when will my luck run out?”) and also likely exhaustion being why he intentionally got himself shot. (That scene...God. I felt a literal chill go down my neck as I imagined the blind terror that would be both behind and a result of such an awful choice.) He didn’t want to die, but he easily could have, but more than that: he needed to get out before his mind was totally gone. He must have seen many, many soldiers with PTSD and may have been self-aware enough to know that he wasn’t far behind them, and just needed to get out. (To put some things in perspective here: the average tour of duty modern day is ~12 months because you literally cannot ask more of a human being. Thomas had been in the Somme for somewhere between 24 and 30 months.)

Edward Courtenay:

It never expressly says he had PTSD, but rather that his blindness as a result of a gas attack at (I assume?) the Somme was the root cause of his depression and ultimately committing suicide. 

Mrs. Patmore’s nephew:

Archie is never an on-screen character, but he is referenced throughout the season and then later on in the series with the war memorial. Mrs. Patmore was clearly (understandably) destroyed by the news that Archie was essentially executed by his fellow soldiers for ‘cowardice’ which we are meant to take means mental illness. (It was usually associated with a certain action, like running away or intentional injury, but really, nobody does those things when they aren’t, as Mrs. Patmore said, “out of their minds with fear”.) So Archie is treated as a sympathetic character by the narrative, and by Mrs. Patmore and the one person she felt was trustworthy in context, Mr. Lang. (Later on, however, Mr. Carson makes a snippy comment about how it would be insulting to the ones who “did their duty” to remember him along with them, though he fortunately gets upstaged by Robert when Robert gets a war memorial for him out of kindness to Mrs. Patmore.) Overall, he is remember by the characters in a way that was deservedly very sympathetic, though it shows how unfair the wider world was at the time.

In short: it shows why people born from 1885-1900 were referred to as the “Lost Generation”. 

[anjuschiffer]

Blessed Flower [Brought Us Together]

You know what I haven’t written yet? GARMARI!

Also, sorry it took his long to write this QQ

---

45. I can’t imagine this world without you

48. Why are you crying?

---

Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak​ @damianette-is-life​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @elijahcrevan​ @vixen-uchiha​ @nathleigh 

---

AO3

Today was the day.

After months of sweat, blood and tears, Garfield had finally done it. He found the answer to his desire...he had cured Tara’s illness, so why?

Why did he dread this walk through the forest today? Why did his feet feel heavier with each step he took, as he got closer to the cabin he used to look forward to?

Why did he hesitate to continue down the ever so familiar path? A path he has walked down plenty of times before, both during the rain and through snow. So why? Why was he doubting himself? Wasn’t this what he wanted?

Garfield stopped, looking up towards the forest canopy, tiny beams of sunlight making its way through the dense layer of leaves.

The twilight’s breeze rustled the spring leaves, calming Garfield’s uneasiness a bit.

Taking a deep breath, Garfield recomposed himself before continuing his journey down the dirt path most of the people in his village often avoided.

“It’s cursed.” They would say.

“Those who enter often never return.” They used to warn him.

“No one dares to enter La Feerie’s Garden, even if the Blessed Flower is in it. You rather remain alive than face Lutin for her flowers.”

But despite their warnings, Garfield still went into the forest in search of the magical flower, having found it around a year ago. But upon reaching the one spot in the forest where the magical flowers bloomed, Garfield met her.

“How dare you pick ma petite fille?” A voice growled, Garfield stiffening as his hand hovered over the white flower, listening as footsteps drew near. 

He didn’t dare turn around in fear of seeing what was to possibly kill him. “Who are you and why are you-”

“I need them to help cure my friend’s illness!” Garfield blurted out, keeping his head lowered as he pulled his hand back to himself. 

Well, Tara wasn’t exactly his friend...more like the neighbor he didn’t have the guts to tell her that he liked her...but even then, he couldn’t just do nothing as he saw her dying before his eyes. “She’s been suffering from pain in her muscles and her cuts are starting to heal slowly. I heard that this flower-”

“Ah, so you’ve heard about the Blessed Flower.” The voice said monotonously, Garfield noticing that the voice was now in front of him. Bare feet were now in his vision, Garfield noticing that they looked human.

Slowly looking up, he was met with soft bluebell eyes. “And do you know how to administer it, human? Or do you plan on killing your friend?”

Garfield froze under her gaze, carefully choosing his next words. Was she not a human then? She can’t be one if she addressed him as ‘human.’

“I don’t. But I would gladly do anything to learn how to use it if it means saving my friend.” Garfield remained silent as he awaited for the girl to say something back. “Just teach me and then when she’s cured, we don’t have to see each other again. I’ll even give you permission to erase my memories if you think that’s a fair trade.”

He didn’t expect her to sputter into laughter, folding into herself as Garfield felt his body tense despite being confused by her response. 

“You’re an odd one, I’ll tell you that. Odd, but honest.” The girl finally said after composing herself. 

She stretched out her hand, Garfield looking at it before accepting it. The two stood up together, the girl smiling at Garfield despite his clear confusion. “I am Marinette, guardian witch of Edel Forest. You, what is your name?”

“Garfield Logan.” He responded. “My name is Garfield Logan. So please, Guardian, teach me how to save my friend.”

“Then follow me.” She commanded, Garfield watching as a small cottage materialized before their eyes. Or rather, came out of hiding.

As Garfield followed her into her cottage, he was met with the aroma of freshly baked bread and a hiss. He followed the sound, finding out it came from above him. A black cat with its back arched and fur sponging up was the one who greeted him with a hiss. His green eyes bore through him, the cat watching Garfield’s every move. “Don’t mind Chaton. He’s been overprotective of me ever since...do you like pie? I just finished making one!”  

Garfield simply nodded, but couldn’t help but notice the trembling of her hands as she moved around her cottage, watching as she fumbled to look for extra eating utensils.

Just how long has it been since she had anyone over that she couldn’t find another plate? 

Apparently a long time, Marinette having to resort to using a tracking spell to help her find one, causing Garfield to watch in utter awe as a plate levitated from its place and made its way to Marinette.

Meanwhile, Chaton continued to monitor him, his green eyes never once leaving Garfield out of his sight.

--

Over the course of the year, Marinette taught Garfield how to harvest the Divine, showing him which Blessed Flowers were used depending on the illness or the injury.

She taught him how to plant, care and harvest the plant. She even told him the importance of talking to the plants and how they enjoyed the extra attention. After all, it helps to enhance their healing capabilities. 

Sometimes when they were out in the field, the two would find ladybugs flying about. Garfield would tease Marinette whenever various would sit on her, Marinette whining to him that it wasn’t funny.

She taught him how to measure and procure the different medications that could come from the magical plant, Garfield absorbing everything with wonder and amazement. Who knew that the magical plant could also help with toothaches!

“Yarrow. That is its actual name.” Marinette clarified at one point when Garfield was busy packaging some yarrow into his bag to take back to the village. 

They had finished grinding up some dried yarrow and packaging them for tea. They even had a few made into pastes. “To be honest I don’t know why people call it the Blessed Flower,” she said as she unraveled her braided midnight hair.

Garfield watched as she carefully took out the red ribbon that held up her long hair, wondering why she has never done so before. It was pretty, very pretty.

“Perhaps because it can help with so many trivial things that inflict us.” Garfield provided, slinging the bag across his body, opening the door to leave. He watched as Marinette looked at him with panic, her eyes having dilated a bit before going back to normal. “I’ll be back again tomorrow, at the same time.” 

He watched as Marinette relaxed, her shoulders lowering from their tense form. 

“Have a safe trip.” She said, waving as he closed the door behind him before stopping.

“You should have your hair down more often. It’s pretty.” Garfield said, closing the door behind him and headed to the village. With each step he took, he felt his cheeks burn even more.

Why did he even say that?

--

Marinette hummed as she placed down a pot of chamomile tea on the table, gasping with glee as she remembered it's been a few minutes since she checked on her apple pie.

She skipped to her oven and carefully took the pie out, smiling at how well it came out.

She placed the pie down, liking that for once in her life, her table was cle-

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time her kitchen table wasn’t filled with books for herbs? That she had actually used it to have food on it?

Because she never once had to use it for a guest before. She had always just baked with her magic, pots, pans and ingredients floating midair as she recited recipes from her childhood. 

When was the last time she was excited to even have someone over?

The door creaked out, Marinette smiling as she saw Garfield walk in.

“Gar! Welcome back!” She greeted, making sure to not rush up to him. 

“Hey Mari.” Garfield said with a weak smile. A hiss was heard nearby. “Hello to you too, Chaton.” Even though it’s been months since their first encounter, Chaton was still hostile towards Garfield. 

“Want to have some pie?” Marinette went back to the table, lifting it up to show him. “I just finished-”

“Tara’s cured.” Garfield blurted out, watching as the apple pie splattered down to the table. “Mari, I-”

“That’s wonderful news!” Marinette celebrated, clapping her hands together before letting out a gasp. “Oh no! The pie!”

She quickly began to try and put the crumbled pie back into the pan, but it kept spilling out.

“Mari-”

“Can you believe it Gar? We actually cured Tara!”

“Marinette. Are you okay?” Garfield managed to say, reaching to grab her hand, only for Marinette to pull it back to herself as she picked up the wasted apple pie.

“Of course I am! Your wish came true, so why wouldn’t I be-”

“So why are you crying then?” Garfield softly asked, watching as she silently cried. They glistened as they ran down her face and onto her hands. “Mari,” he softly said, not knowing what to say.

“It’s goodbye...isn’t it?” She asked, setting the pan down. “Now that you got what you wanted, there isn’t any other reason for you to keep coming here. You got me to help you cure your friend.” She let out a dry laugh. “There isn’t any other reason for you to stay here.” 

“Mari. I still plan on coming here.”

“Coming here? What for? You already cured Tara- oh...oh!” Marinette exclaimed, a giggle escaping her. Then a dry laugh erupted.

“Marinette?”

“You’re just like them.” Marinette whispered. “You come to me, use me and then plan to continue to use me.”

“Marinette, let me-”

“You plan to continue to come here on behalf of your village, aren’t you? Act like it’s for your village’s benefit but end up using me for your own gain, right? That’s your plan, isn’t it, Garfield?”

“What? No! I would-” Garfield denied, but his words fell on deaf ears. 

“To think I feel for this again!” Marinette yelled, Garfield watching as her red ribbon flew and began to ravel her hair into a bun. Black dots began to blossom onto the ribbon as a red aura began to emit around Marinette’s hands. 

“Marinette, please. Just listen-”

“That’s what they said. To listen to them. To help them carry out a plan that would only benefit themselves and few others, but not everyone...but not this time.” Chaton appeared out of nowhere, now perched on a wooden beam above Marinette. His fur was on edge and his eyes gleamed a nasty jade. “I won’t let you use me again. I won’t let you!” Marinette yelled, dashing for Garfield, who did nothing but remain frozen as she tackled him to the ground.

Garfield struggled to break free from her magic binding, but his wrists were bound to the floor in plant vines. 

“Marinette, please!”

“Silence!” Marinette bellowed. “I shouldn’t have let you in. I shouldn’t have trusted you. I should’ve just sent you off like I did to all those who came before you! 

But how naive I was. To think that the Council was wrong all this time, only to see that they were actually right.” Her eyes glew a dangerous red. “You humans never change.”

Garfield watched as Marinette placed her hands on his head, a soft glow emitting from them.

“If you think this is for the best...then go ahead. Erase my memories...just like we promised when we first met.” Garfield softly said, looking straight back at Marinette. “Do it if it gives you peace of mind.”

He watched as something flashed across her eyes, watching as she hesitated to continue.

Marinette pursed her lips, shutting her eyes close before getting off of Garfield. A shuddering breath left her.

“What am I doing?” Marinette warbled, watching her hands begin to tremble. The glow surrounding her hands began to dim down, extinguishing. She hid her face with her hands, feeling her tears begin to trail down her face. “Just what-” She shook her head. “I can’t do it, I shouldn’t be- just what the hell-”

“Marinette.” Garfield softly said, watching as the vines disappeared from around his wrists, allowing him to sit next to Marinette. “I’m alright...it’s alright.”

“Alright? How is this alright?” Marinette gestured to herself. “I almost erased your memories and was on the verge of killing you! How is that alright?” She yelled, a sob escaping her. “How can you just-”

Garfield pulled her into an embrace, startling Marinette.

“Because I know you, Marinette.” Garfield said, tightening his embrace. “And even if you did erase my memories, my heart would remember the year we spent together.”

He felt as Marinette trembled against him.  “It will never forget, I know it won’t. After all, you mean so much to me.” He listened as she began to sob. “So even if you har-”

“Don’t ever let me do that to you. I’ll die before I ever dare to harm you, Garfield.” She whispered, gently pushing away from him to look at him. “Because...because I can’t imagine this world without you...I can’t live without you!”  Marinette confessed, looking at Garfield with fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

“Ever since we met, I no longer felt alone. I was no longer alone once you stepped into my home. I was looking forward to seeing you everyday, to chatting, learning together and just being with each other. I enjoyed it...I love spending time with you being with you.”

Garfield let Marinette recompose herself, allowed her to wipe away her tears. He didn’t know when, but at one point, Chaton came to the both of them, sitting in her lap. “I don’t want you to go. To leave me alone…”

“If...if you head let me talk, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. But even so, this is all my fault.” Garfield admitted. “I shouldn't have let you jump to conclusions like that by not saying what I need to say first.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I should’ve told you the better news first before the good news.”

“The...better news?” Marinette asked.

“I want to live here. With you.” Garfield said with a smile, grabbing her hand. “I, too, realized that I like being with you.”

Marinette looked at him with wide eyes, a faint pink on her cheeks.

“Do-Do you really mean that?”

“I do.” Garfield said, resting his head against her shoulder. “I really do.”

Marinette let out a small gasp, causing Garfield to lift his head to look at her. She smiled back at him and cupped his face.

They both erupted into laughter, pressing their foreheads together. Fingers intertwined as they sat together in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fireplace keeping them company. 

They didn’t need anything more to be happy.

Just the two of them. 

Just each other.

That was enough for them.

[furubaa]

Notes on Mushishi - Vol 1 & 2

This is the start of my personal notes on every Mushishi chapter (anime ep # in brackets). I’ve reread the manga over and over again looking for specific stories, so this is just for easier reference. 

VOLUME 1

1 - The Green Gathering (S1E1, The Green Seat)

Ginko learns of a boy who can create life by drawing or writing and decides to pay him a visit 

“The green here is so vivid it’s eerie”

A personal invitation to a banquet, presented with clear sake in a shallow green saucer - the exquisite scent of kouki, the water of life. 

The dull pain of being frozen mid-transformation, one foot out the door; realisation of emptiness, and yearning for a full exit from the world

Color seeping out of an untouched brush; power passed down the generations

Everything covered in moss where the kouki soaked in the ground

2 - The Soft Horns (S1E3, Tender Horns)

Ginko is summoned to cure villagers from hearing problems caused by Mushi, and to cure the village head’s grandson Maho, who has sprouted four horns on his forehead.

A quiet village deep in the mountains where even the wind does not pass; absolute silence on snowy nights, when even the sound of your voice disappears.

Bombarded with a flood of sounds, the spirit tires, and body weakens til death. The murmuring of a single Mushi is a microscopic sound, until made aware of the trillions of Mushi clamouring all over the world, calling to each other like echoes.

An intimate gesture of protection - the sound of your mother. A volcanic eruption seen long ago. The lava inside of you, dissolving everything.

3 - The Pillow Path (S1E4 The Pillow Pathway)

Ginko pays a visit to a man named Jin who has premonitions in his dreams as a result of a Mushi affliction caused by Imeno no Awai. 

4 - The Light in the Eyelids (S1E2 The Light of the Eyelid)

Ginko visits a girl named Sui, who is suffering from a Mushi affliction that has made her eyes sensitive to light.

“Behind your eyelid you have another eyelid.” 

There's a river of light flowing underground that illuminates even the pitch black; there has to be total, true darkness to see it. “Light particles come from very far away/ and they flow past me.” “Stretching out for eternity at your feet”

Ginko sitting on the opposite side of the river bank; a warning from a stranger.

“You spent too much time in the dark with Sui” ... Mushi that breed in the darkness. 

5 - The Traveling Bog (S1E5 The Traveling Swamp)

Ginko is traveling through the mountains to see his friend, Adashino. Along the way, he meets a girl named Io, who lives inside a swamp that is capable of moving by itself.

Ginko finding himself travelling in step with a swamp that sinks into the earth and then floats up over and over again, passing through the mountains

A girl sacrificed to save her village from a flood, wearing ceremonial robes; a bride presented to the water god, pushed off a cliff in a storm.

A large green thing that calmly rose up through the raging water; swimming at the bottom of a river that was overflowing its banks. It said, “You should continue to live.”

“When people drink them, their bodies become transparent... and then, they flow away.” Choosing to become Mushi is to exist between life and death; slowly wearing away at your human heart.

Following the journey of a ten thousand year old swamp to its death; moving towards the sea, the dying form of a liquid mushi. Accompanying it on its final journey.

“Swamps are born, eventually they stagnate, and when the universe they have contained within themselves ends... they get up on their own and start to move.”

VOLUME 2

6 - The Mountain Sleeps (S1E11 The Sleeping Mountain)

While traveling, Ginko passes through a town settled near a mountain. He learns that a Mushi Master is living on the mountain, but hasn't visited the village for quite some time, and every person who had been sent to find him has fallen ill and died.

“A smell both sweet and rancid that rises from the ground and touches each leaf. One by one. Coiling around them and choking their skin. A light vein, where the river of light flows.”

Ginko tapping into a mushi that acts as the mountain's nerves, sinking their wills into the plants and running around. 

“The water of life (...) Women bear children like cats or dogs; twins, triplets, or even quadruplets, abandoned in the mountains.”

A travelling Mushishi who puts his roots down. The one he loves committing an unforgivable act so that they can be married. Assuming the role of a slain mountain boar god; his bones will lie here. 

An aged man, summoning an immortal spirit to take his place of guardian forever - a necessary sacrifice to return the world to natural order.

7 - The Sea of Brushstrokes (S1E20 A Sea of Writings)

Ginko comes to a house which has a library full of mushi-related scrolls. There, he meets the girl who writes the scrolls, and hears the story of the curse that has been afflicting her family for generations.

A large dark crypt; an enormous library of scripts recording ancient history

Scribes cursed with immobility and marked for death, the only way to quell the Mushi is to seal them with words. A tradition of inviting travelling Mushishis to feed the writers myths in order for them to expel their words, physically manifesting them, an excruciating process for survival of self - and if not, the survival of your descendants. Plucking words and returning them to order, duty. Little by little, a receding scar. 

8 - They That Breathe Ephemeral Life (S1E6 Those Who Inhale the Dew)

Ginko's services are requested by a boy named Nagi, who lives on a distant island, to investigate the case of Akoya, a girl revered by the people as a "Living God".

A brief moment during the spring tide is the only time you can get to the island; only safe one day per month to take a boat out. a barren island with little soil, villagers surviving with moral support from their god. 

Tapping the center of the forehead with a needle, a curlicule of a mushi spiralling out

“When i was the Ikigami and aged when the sun set i could always shut my eyes and fall asleep feeling satisfied (...) But now my legs tremble at the immense amount of time ahead of me.” Living Mushi's life cycle of a single day - every second of every day experienced fresh, so much wonder you can't keep up. “My heart was always satisfied.”

When faced with tragedy, the girl finally chooses to return to the state of suspension - the luxury to forget and detach from mortal burden.

9 - Rain Comes and a Rainbow is Born (S1E7 Raindrops and Rainbows)

Ginko encounters a man named Koro, who has a strange habit of pursuing rainbows, and helps him find one particular rainbow that he is looking for - the Kouda.

A father delirious for rain - a strange man running around happily, and a mysterious rainbow dancing in odd shapes. A body that thirsts - “I miss that rainbow so much… I can’t stand it.” 

A boy who runs away to escape the burden of a dying father; to prove his worth and his father’s.

Ginko who must travel constantly, taking a break by finding purpose in small goals - You can’t live only for the sake of living; rest is essential. 

A natural phenomena created from light and imbued with kouki - “There's a reason they occur, but they have no purpose - existing only to keep flowing. Nothing can affect them, but they affect those around them, and then they leave.”

* 10 - The Veil Spore (S1E21 Cotton Changeling)

A couple summons Ginko to investigate their sick child, Watahiko, who has developed green spots all over his body. The father explains that the child didn’t look human when born - instead, it was a strange green mass that swiftly escaped. A year later, he found a baby under the house.

A wedding procession that passes through a forest - “A green stain on my cotton wedding gown.” A boy born green and formless, that slipped out and under the house. The main body; a mat of spores spreading under the house, dirt that wriggles under the sun.

One year later, it sends out a human-mushroom; every half year, the same child born again and again. Harmless children joined together at the root, that exist only to collect nutrients, that die and spit out seeds. “Mushi that wear the skin of your dead child.”

The human instinct to kill everything we don’t understand.

A baby with a body that grows faster than the mind. Children that evolve rapidly - “After learning words i forgot how.. I forgot how.” The primal instinct for survival lost. The cost of intelligence.

The Watahiki, when faced with danger, disconnects its children from the root, in an attempt to save at least the seeds - the children change form and enter a long dormant period.

An organism that strays from its recorded life cycle. 

Not that I’m doing this for public consumption (who even is going to read all this) but anyways FYI I’ve got structured notes on the next volumes in my drafts & if I ever get round to finishing all of them they’ll be tagged as #mushishi notes 

[eagehaunting]

Mystery March 2021 day 16 and 17: Haunt and Headcannon

Arthur isnt the only medium in Tempo 👀

If it wasn’t for the fact that her knees were aching from falling down a sand dune, Cayenne would have snagged the girl in front of her by her nose and pummeled her. Only she could hardly get a step in without burrs stabbing into her feet. Every part of her skin prickled painfully, the heat of the desert sand baked her body, and her pony tail was now tangled and in knots.

The perpetrator, a see-through girl with a snarky evil grin, who had the advantage of floating, dangles Cayennes new bow in front of her. Her gang of disfigured and equally see through spirits snicker behind her.

“That can’t be all you got now, right?” Angelica taunts, bobbling the sparkly bow and letting its bell ring like a laugh. “Didn’t you say that you would drag me to hell? Why don’t you do so!”

Cayennes eyes stung, biting her lip.

“W-whatever, just give it back.”

“Or what?”

Her heart pounds in her chest, and Angelica’s form wavers for hardly a second before Cayenne wipes her eye.

“Or ill make you regret it.”

The gang of child ghosts laugh. Rolling in midair, hugging themselves, slapping each others shoulders and knees from how hilarious it was.

Cayenne wasn’t laughing. Her teeth grit. She takes two painful steps and tries to swing, trying to snag her bow from Angelicas hand, or punch the ghost. Whichever worked- Cayenne didn’t care.

Why would she respect the dead if they were just a bunch of jerks?

Angelica whisked the bow higher, snapping back and glaring. A hail of heavy sand whips up and smacks into Cayenne’s side. Filling her hair, nose, and ears with a loud scratches and growls. Grateful she didn’t fall, Cayenne lunges and grips the ghosts front.

”I said give it! It’s mine! My friend gave it to me and I won’t let a bunch of fuckers take it!”

Something is coming behind her. Cayenne’s hair stands on end as she feels something sharp and staticky coming. There’s a voice that Cayenne can hardly hear over the sound of her and Angelicas screaming. A shrill argument.

Whoever it was, they could wait-

A hard hand clamps down on her shoulder, and in the next moment Cayenne’s swung back and hardly onto her burr covered shoes. Stark yellows and oranges burn bright against the musty brown sand. Finally, the raspy voice was clear.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Arthur says, voices low and stern, and his grip never faltering. Stiff in horror, Angelica floats back. Hands up and shaky and trying to wave away the horrible feeling of an adults disappointment. The gang behind her diminishes, dashing off into the sand dunes, and Angelica quickly follows. A wail rising above the winds.

Before Cayenne caught her breath, she was swung up again, this time pulled onto Arthur’s hip as he begins to jog. Either uncaring of the burrs in her soles or unable to tell.

“W-wait!” Cayenne desperately tries to wiggle out of his grasp so that way she can run after the thieves, but his grip is almost as tight as Lewis’s. “They still have my -“

”Zip it.”

Cayenne’s lip quivers and vision wavers, filled with the all too strong urge to kick him in the ribs. But Arthur is speeding up, jogging, running to the edge of town, and the next thing Cayenne knew, they were looping around the shiny orange van and the passenger door was being open.

Arthur let’s her flop on the seat.

“Ow!” Cayenne hisses, her legs aching from the quick jostling, and she massages them roughly despite the burrs in her fingers.

Unsympathetic, Arthur stands in front of her. “Cayenne, tell me what happened.”

She looks at him with a frown pulling at her upper lip, wanting to beat her fists against the seats. “They started it.”

Arthur’s looking down at her as he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyebrows screwed together tightly. “What do you mean.”

“They started it,” Cayenne repeats herself, unable to help banning her heels against the side of the bench. Pointing to the Deseret, Cayenne continues. “I was at the park, minding my business, when a bunch of those f- uh.” She stumbles, knowing exactly what to say but not knowing how Arthur would feel about it.

“Ghosts.” He supplies flatly, and Cayenne nods.

“Right. Ghosts. They came over and started sh-crap! So I beat them up, and they stole my bow.” Her bow... the one Vivi bought for her from work... which Angelica probably still had. That thought makes her stomach and eyes boil, but no amount of grinding her teeth stopped the hot tears from finally slipping down her cheek.

Which finally got her an ounce of compassion. Arthur huffs tightly and leans past her, grabbing a tissue from the glove box and lightly blotting her cheeks. His anger was less but tense like a simmering boil, Cayenne couldn’t tell why.

“They took your bow, huh?”

“Y-yeah, I really liked that one too...!” her words come out in garbled sobs, and Cayenne’s breath hitches pathetically as her feet and legs bled from the scraps and plants jabbing into them.

Arthur’s quiet for a few more minutes, fists tight and uncaring to how horrible her chest and lungs have been burning.

Arthur’s voice is considerably softer when he kneels on the vans foot bar in-front of her, making it sink down and alerting Cayenne to try and look at him. “What hurts, cai?”

Arthur had pulled out the first aid kit and sat next to her with a small plastic bag to act as a trash can. He pulled off her socks and shoes and left them on the van floor, and with tweezers he held her foot steady and plucked off the sharp burrs. Then he cleaned off her legs with rubbing alcohol that had them both wincing from cuts on their skin. Then, with a spare brush and an extra hair tie, he redid her pony tail.

Then, he took off a necklace that Cayenne had only seen once or twice. It was called a dog tag, and apparently Arthur was given it so spirits wouldn’t be able to bother him so easily.

Cayenne fiddles with the dog tag now, legs crossed and sitting alone in the front seat of the van. The windows were cracked and Arthur turned on the radio for her to have a distraction while he was gone, but she found it nicer to trace her scabbed fingers along the engravings.

Was it a gift? Or was she just supposed to borrow it while he went through the desert to give those spirits a piece of their mind... whatever it was, Cayenne was grateful. Both for the coolness of the shiny metal and the cracked window, her cheeks were warm after staring at the name for so long.

Hopefully Arthur won’t think bad about her... Cayenne frowns, sinking in the middle seat. Waiting.

Not for long however. The driver seat door opens and startles Cayenne out of her focus, and Arthur shuffles back in.

“Feeling better?”

Cayenne nods, shuffling to her side of the van and buckling herself as Arthur settles in and starts the van.

“Good. I’m glad. Ready for it to get better?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t Arthur pulling out a sparkly bow, lined with ribbons and lace and a shiny blue bell right in the center. Cayenne gasps and reaches for it. “You got it!”

“I did,” Arthur smiles softly, flipping on the AC and turning it on high, “it was on the ground when I went to look for it. I think the spirits must have gotten scared and didn’t want to risk running into one of us again.”

Cayenne’s cheeks are still warm despite the AC blasting cool air across her face. Never the less she cradles the bow close to her chest. Opening her mouth, her tongue lays limp and useless. “Th-thank you.”

“No problem. Now, do you want to get a slushie before I take you back home?”

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: Sorry for taking so long to update! Oh, and I thought since it’s my birthday, I’d treat everyone (at least everyone who reads this anyway) with another chapter! Hurrah! Things are happening!

Masterlist

Chapter 8

“So, it seems like one of us is dead,” Ten broke the silence between the rest of them as they looked over the city from where they stood. They were back in the real world, in the conference room of the skyscraper that Mark owned under his own enterprise.

“And one is being held hostage,” Lucas pointed to his temple. “That same one owns this building that we are staying in. Why didn’t we stay in your building? You own the tech company in the first place,” He glanced over at Taemin. 

“It won’t be long before Yunho comes here,” Ino said, seeing Taemin furiously disintegrate the vacant chairs in front of him. “He’s bound to come here since he’s got Mark. Taeyong proved to be a lot more expendable than we thought he was.” 

“How dare you say that!” Taemin disintegrated the chair the elder was sitting on and the table that had their drinks. 

“Taemin, it’s true. Taeyong clearly forgot he was up against someone whose mind he can’t read,” Baekhyun pointed out. “Mirae and San both have a shield. No one can get into their heads. You placed San in the mountains where he stayed with a woman for a while,” He glanced at Ten, who shrugged. “Wrong move.” 

“It was an attempt to get him to soften up,” Ten replied. “I figured if I brought San back to a place he would remember fondly, like that place, where he had quite a...sexually explicit affair with the wife of his mercenary group leader, he would be vulnerable. Apparently not. That was the reason why he fled to look for his sister in the first place.” 

“And what about Yunho?” Jongin asked. 

“Yunho, to the place where his immortality took effect,” Ten glanced at them. “Where he was vulnerable.” 

“So what is our next move?” Taemin fumed. 

Ino looked at the tablet at his feet, laying on top of the piles of dust that was once the conference room table. The tablet unlocked itself and showed the interface of the controls. “This is our next move. We go live,” He replied, some of the features on the interface tapping themselves. “Project Apocalypse is now live.” 

“You know, Yunho made a good point earlier when we visited him,” Ten glanced at them. “We go like this without any leadership, if we need any. Our think-tank will need a face.” 

“Wouldn’t it be obvious by now? I have been looking for mutants under the directions of my father back in the center for paranormal research. I am also far more powerful than any of you in this room,” Ino said. “I’ve waited for a long time to take my place among our kind. I realize that my place is above.” 

“It was my plan to track down Jihoon, Hyuk, and Chanyeol that led us to come up with this think tank in the first place,” Baekhyun interjected. “You only knew of that when you went away after the tall dope and the telekinetic were killed.” 

“But my powers are far more superior than yours, Baekhyun,” Ino repeated. “Are you really going to question my very obvious authority over you?”

“No, you are right,” Baekhyun got up from his chair. “You have a very obvious authority over all of us. Maybe not Mark as he is significantly older than you, but for the rest of us?” He kicked down the wooden floor lamp, making the base snap in two. Baekhyun picked up the two pieces and before he could strike, the two pieces disintegrated and Baekhyun was floating in the air. 

Ino stared at him, shaking his head slightly. “Tsk, tsk, Baekhyun. Even my powers surpass that of Mark’s. You ought to know better than to fight me.” 

“Yeah, because Mirae’s the only one here that can actually do damage to you,” Jongin chimed in. “Don’t think we didn’t see what happened to you. Put Baekhyun hyung down.” 

Ino’s expression stiffened and Baekhyun dropped to the floor. “You’re a fool if you even consider opposing me.” 

“You’re also a fool for assuming you can defeat everybody here, if I do say so myself,” Taemin pointed out, glaring at him. “You just tagged along when you found out what we were planning.” 

“And now I am changing the plans,” Ino countered. “Project Apocalypse won’t just be a think tank anymore, it’s going to be more than that.” 

Particles of dust and metal were floating in mid-air in front of Ino, suddenly taking the form of robots that towered over all of them. “Project Apocalypse will remake the world into our image.” 

Jongin stared at him. “We killed the goblins years ago when they were looking to do the same thing, Jang Ino. You should know this most of all.” 

“I’m not talking about the goblins,” Ino said. “Mutant supremacy at its finest. The diamond of the tree of life will power these robots,” the gem appeared in his hand out of thin air. 

Jongin and Baekhyun stared at the gem. “...You kept the diamond all this time?” said the older of the two. 

“Yes, all this time, the diamond was with me. It made itself known to me shortly after the explosion from the Center,” Ino said. “Have you already forgotten? This is a sentient gem. It could never be destroyed, it simply disappears and reappears to anyone it wants to appear to.” 

“You will need material for that, whatever you are planning on building,” Taemin said, now intrigued by his proposal. “Where do you suppose you’re going to get that?” 

“From you, of course. Your company also specializes in metals, don’t they? The same alloy Junhong uses to fit the cars at the Center come from your company,” Ino pointed out. “They will be indestructible, and they will usher in a new era in the world.” 

Lucas approached the window, staring down at the busy streets below them. “So your droids are going to act as the horsemen of the apocalypse, won’t they?” He asked. 

“Why yes, they will. The horsemen of Project Apocalypse.”

~ 

Mirae looked up at the sky. In the midst of the calm, she still felt some frustration, the seeping feeling of regret that she didn’t finish Baekhyun or Jongin off while she had the chance, Ino even more so. Her eyes began to glow as well as her fingertips. “We’re not where we should be,” She said. “Project Apocalypse is being activated in the city, our real city.” 

“You mean they went back?” Mingi said. 

“I got it from Yunho. Mark told him, he’s telling him everything,” Mirae replied. “If my instincts are right, you should stand behind me,” She was still looking up. 

“What are you thinking of doing?” Hongjoong asked. 

“Don’t ask, just stand behind her,” Yeosang said. 

Mirae channeled everything she was feeling, the glow in her eyes and fingertips growing brighter and brighter as she concentrated on the sky. The more she stared at the sky and at the clouds swirling above them, the more the sky began to turn red, as red as the glow in her eyes and fingertips. “For Hyuk and Chanyeol,” She muttered. “For Jihoon, for Yunho, and for San.” 

The more she concentrated, they started to see that Mirae’s form was beginning to glow as well, and a powerful wave of energy shot up into the skies, causing what looked like cracks in a forcefield. Another wave of energy shot up, but this time, they saw that it was much more powerful than before, breaking out of the cracks and shattering what was above them completely. 

As the sky broke down completely, it seemed to reveal where they really were and to Mirae, it was another familiar place. It was the deserted compound with the empty, partly demolished houses. One of those houses had the passage that led to the goblin kingdom court. 

“Wow, I knew she was powerful, but I never thought she was this powerful,” Jongho muttered, the rest of them looked at her in amazement. The glow in her eyes was fading. 

They saw Junhong get out of the van nearby, looking around in disbelief and almost stumbling as he ran up to them. “What happened? Where are we?” He called out. 

“She broke down the dimension Ten put us in,” Yeosang replied. “Which means Yunho and San would be very close by.” 

Junhong gaped at her. “Now we need to look for them,” He took out the thin sliver of metal that was their communicator and turned it on. “Yunho? San? Where are you?” He called out, hoping for an answer. 

“Hey! Hey!” They looked at a figure running from a distance, and Mirae broke into a run as well when she realized who it was. 

“San!” She called out, the two of them capturing each other in a tight hug. “San, I’m sorry,” Mirae said softly. 

“For what?” He said. 

“For how I’ve been acting these past few weeks,” Mirae said quietly. “I was acting like you weren’t my brother, like you didn’t exist or something.” 

San shook his head. “It’s okay, sis. Are you back now?” He asked. 

“I-I don’t know,” Mirae said. “For some reason I don’t know.” 

They heard a commotion come from one of the partly demolished houses. “That must be where Yunho is,” Hongjoong said, and ran to the house, speeding up to the second floor. 

The rest of them ran to the house as well to catch up. Wooyoung transformed into his shadow form and slithered along the ground and into the house as well. “Junhong, you better stay close to us,” Mirae said. 

“I already am,” Junhong nodded, as they stepped inside the house. “Oh, this is the same place from-” 

“Yeah, where we dealt with the goblins,” Mirae replied, seeing the blood stains on the floors and on the walls. “We always tend to end up in this place.” 

“We’re in a small country, we’re bound to always end up in places we’ve been to before,” Junhong replied. 

“Seonghwa, when I say go, control it,” Mirae said. “I have a feeling that’s how it’s going to go.” 

They heard several thuds coming from the second floor, until the figures of Yunho and Mark appeared and disappeared, both of them engaged in a tussle in front of them. 

The rest of them tried to surround the two that kept teleporting in and out. “Go!” Mirae said the moment she sensed the two would reappear. Seonghwa’s eyes and fingertips glowed green as he broke the two teleporters apart, the two of them floating in mid-air as they were surrounded by the rest. 

When Mark tried to teleport away, Mingi kicked him back, followed by a strike from Hongjoong then Jongho, Wooyoung, Mirae, and San. Yeosang cast another hex towards the immortal, keeping him frozen as Seonghwa dropped him and Yunho to the floor. “I guess this is what happens when we don’t have much of our weapons left,” Mingi said. 

“Excellent, Hwa,” Mirae patted him on the shoulder. 

“Hyuk taught me that,” He said. 

“He taught you well,” She patted his shoulder again. 

Yunho quickly got to his feet, seeing Mark bruised and incapacitated on the floor. “One moment, we were in a village in Casablanca, the next moment, we’re in this...place, whatever this is,” He said. 

“Mirae broke down the dimension Ten put us in,” Yeosang pointed out, Yunho looking even more surprised at the change in his appearance. 

Yunho turned to Mirae, who was still staring at Mark’s frozen form. “Mirae?” He said. 

She looked up at the mention of her name. “Yunho?” Mirae went up to him in a tight hug, Yunho almost lifting her off her feet. “I’m so sorry,” She said. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been.” 

Yunho shook his head. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” He kissed her cheek as he held her close. “I know how much they meant to you, and for a moment I thought I was going to lose you.” 

“Me too. I was so consumed by how I was feeling, I thought I was going out of control,” Mirae pulled back, staring into his eyes. “I couldn’t stop myself, I was just so angry and hurt and-” 

Yunho shook his head and kissed her. “What matters is that you’re back now,” He whispered. Back to me, he thought. 

“What do we do with him? Any ideas?” Hongjoong asked them, making Yunho and Mirae pull away to look over at Mark. 

“We could prolong the hex, if I may suggest,” Yeosang spoke. “Any other ideas?” 

“Skin him?” Jongho asked. 

“Burn him alive?” Mingi chimed in. 

“Make an example out of him,” Mirae said, her expression falling. She bent down to look closely at Mark. “Where in the city would they activate Project Apocalypse?” She asked. 

“Taemin and Taeyong’s company. It’s a tech enterprise,” Mark replied, seemingly defeated. “I must admit, I have underestimated each and every one of you.” 

“Don’t make that mistake again,” Mirae pointed out. 

“I killed one of yours,” San said, holding up a fragment of a diamond that was in his pocket. “Look familiar?” He said. 

Mark stared at him in horror. “...That’s impossible.” 

“It is, when you’re someone like me,” San replied. “What else can you tell us about Project Apocalypse?” 

“It’s too late,” Mark said. “Ino has activated the project, and it appears that he’s got more tricks up his sleeve, if I can hear his thoughts correctly.” 

“What tricks? What kind of tricks?” Yunho asked. 

Wooyoung stared at him, and then turned to the rest of them, blinking a few times as to what he was seeing. “Robots. Like the ones in the Danger room. Ino’s making robots that can kill,” He said. “Just like the robots you fought.” 

“Then let’s go. Yeosang can take care of Mark,” Mirae said, giving the vampiric mutant a nod. “Tough luck, Mr. Lee. You’ve weakened Yeosang enough to make him hungry.” 

“Should I call you an old friend? You’re not as invincible as you make yourself out to be. Then again, you’re now dealing with me,” Yeosang then bent down as the rest of them moved out of the house. Mark stared at him. “You can read my mind to know how much I need to feed, and unfortunately for you, your time is up,” He pressed his hand to Mark’s heart, shuddering as he absorbed the life out of him. 

~ 

“They got Mark too. This vendetta you have is becoming even more risky,” Taemin glared at Baekhyun. “And now they’re on their way here.” 

“We’re becoming outnumbered, it’s nine of them against how many of us?” Ten raised a brow, also looking at Baekhyun. 

“If they got Mark and Taeyong, that just means they were outsmarted, outmatched, and they’re not as strong as they make themselves out to be. Yeah, I said what I said,” Baekhyun shot back at Taemin. 

“It doesn’t matter if they were expendable or not,” Ino said. “All that matters is,” He gestured to the windows. They could hear a thud followed by the sounds of people screaming in the streets. The robot that Ino had built was walking out in the open. “Action must be taken now. If I were all of you, I’d make sure Mirae and the others don’t stand in the way.” 

“We should go then,” Lucas said, Ten getting up from his seat, followed by Taemin. “They’ve taken two from us, we should return the favor.” 

Baekhyun and Jongin got up, the younger of the two limping as he joined their colleagues. “Mutant supremacy,” Baekhyun said as if to remind them of their resolve. Ten and Taemin held on to Lucas’ shoulders while Baekhyun put his hand on Jongin’s and in an instant, they vanished. 

Ino closed his eyes and vanished as well. 

~ 

“If we’re here, then it means we’re getting close to home,” Mirae said as they approached another familiar dilapidated apartment building that revealed some of the floors. Yeosang quickly reappeared with them, his appearance returning to normal. She glanced at San and Yunho, “I mean, we’re getting literally close to home, the store is a bus ride away.” 

They entered the building, Mirae and Junhong seeing the familiar blood splatters on the doors and on the walls that had peeling wallpaper. Wooyoung gaped at what he was seeing. “Jongin got attacked here, didn’t he? During that time with all of you? He was with another guy,” He said. 

“Sehun, yeah,” Mirae replied as they climbed up the staircase, seeing even more blood spatters, some might even have looked fresh from how red it was. “Looks like some creatures come out to feed here then,” She muttered. 

“Creatures?!” Hongjoong stared at her. 

“Creatures. Non-humans, goblins most likely,” Junhong nodded. “Mirae, you still know the way, right?” He asked. 

“Vividly,” Mirae answered, leading them down the hall to the door at the very end. “You all know what to do in case something happens.” 

“I wonder why this area hasn’t been developed? I could’ve made the way to where we’re going a lot...nicer looking,” Yeosang frowned at the sight of the deteriorating interiors. 

Mirae opened the door, revealing a staircase going down to a dark tunnel ahead. The passage was barely lit, and they could hear the sounds of something scurrying and squeaking. “Oh my god,” Seonghwa muttered, gripping the strap of his quiver tightly while Mingi took out his lighter to light the way from his place, the flames rising up high enough to make it bright for everyone to see. 

“Watch your steps,” Mirae looked over at them, holding Yunho’s hand tightly as they walked through the passageway, seeing rats scurry around them, and making Jongho and Wooyoung squeal in their places, Mingi holding onto Hongjoong who leaned away from the flame in his lighter. 

San gave them a look, shaking his head. “All of you realize we need to be quiet in case someone else is in here, right?” He said. 

More rats were scurrying, making the rest of them, including Yeosang, stick to Mirae and Yunho. “I think we were a lot braver against those rodents while we were under the trance,” Hongjoong said. 

“Clearly,” Mirae nodded as they walked on, seeing the familiar old-fashioned elevator at the end of the tunnel. There were still bits of dried blood on the buttons going up and down as the iron doors opened. “Not all of us are going to fit in here,” she said. “San, Yunho, Junhong, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and I will go in first, the rest of you will be next. We’ll wait for you.” 

“Got it,” Hongjoong said. 

“If something goes wrong, Hongjoong, you better run,” Mirae eyed him, and he nodded again. 

“How about we don’t do that? I’d like to try something, my dear,” Yeosang cast a spell, and the elevator in front of them expanded in size. “It can fit up to ten people now. We cannot afford to separate now, they will take advantage of us being split up.” 

All of them got inside, and Mirae pressed the button, the doors closing as the elevator began to go down. They could feel a cold draft coming from below as they were further lowered down into the dark shaft. “We haven’t been here in a while,” Junhong looked around. “I wonder what’s going to happen to us now after all of this is over.” 

“I suggest we still stick together after this,” Hongjoong said. “It’s clear that we all work well together, including executive Kang.” 

“Aside from that, I mean,” Junhong said. “Mirae’s got the store, Yeosang’s got his company, now that it’s clear that Ino is no longer willing to keep us going, the rest of us are on our own.” 

“What is that smell?” Jongho suddenly spoke, cringing and frowning the further they went down, the rest of them wrinkling their noses at the stench that was getting stronger. “It smells like something died.” 

“Something did die. A lot of somethings,” Mirae said. “I didn’t think it would still stink this bad years later.” 

“Goblins decay slower than humans,” Junhong said.

“Is that what it is? This smells even worse than the camel poop in Morocco,” Yunho said, glancing at her. 

The elevator stopped and Mirae opened the doors, all of them suddenly greeted by the rotting goblin corpses strewn on the floor in what looked like a library with one bookcase pushed to the side, revealing another passageway. “I know I should be used to seeing dead bodies by now, but I’m not used to this,” Seonghwa said as they stepped over the bodies, noticing the glinting gold armor that the creatures wore. 

“Come to think about it, this place seems like a good spot for all of us to stay in, kind of like a headquarters,” San glanced at his sister. “There’s all these cool passageways, we just need to uh, get rid of all the bodies and the blood.” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Junhong nodded. “This place just needs a lot of cleaning up, an updated security system, and we’d have our own headquarters instead of that safehouse. Where we could really be hidden away.” 

They went inside the passageway into a torch-lit chamber that had a set of two giant doors in front of them, the wood that acted as a barricade had long broken, and some parts of the doors had already been busted through. Wooyoung could feel his senses go into overdrive with all the memories he kept seeing the more they walked on. “So much has happened here,” He said, blinking a few times, as if trying to organize what he was seeing.

Mirae led them down the marble aisle in the middle of the room, the water on both sides of the aisle also littered with rotting goblin corpses and the marble that was once white, had stains of blood. It somehow made sense that they were brought back here, that this place was where she would end up at some point or another. The grudge Baekhyun had on her started here and in what was the Center for Paranormal Research. It only made sense that the way to stop Baekhyun was to go through some of the old ways, whatever it might be. But given how things had turned out, Mirae knew she had to do the same with Ino, which seemed like a battle she knew she was going to lose. 

Mirae led them through the hole on the left, revealing what seemed like a newly built tunnel illuminated with white lights. “This was where Chanyeol passed through when we dealt with the Utopian cult,” She muttered, making Junhong glance at her. 

“Oh right,” Junhong noticed their surroundings the further they went into the tunnel. “Where does this lead to again?” 

Mirae looked up at the tall male. “Where my foster parents kept the bodies of the people they would turn into their followers. And the training room, what was once the training room anyway.”

Yunho squeezed her hand as they kept walking. “You know, I kind of feel naked without having anything to kill or wound something with,” He said. 

“Sooner or later, we would have to rely on our powers alone,” Mirae muttered, opening the door at the end of the tunnel, the red tapestries bearing the symbol of the Utopian cult hanging on the door and on the walls of the warehouse they now found themselves in. 

“And all this time, I had no idea a place like this existed,” Yeosang looked around. 

They soon heard a thud coming from a closed off part of the warehouse. The thud grew louder, almost making the ground tremble beneath their feet. Out from the closed off part, a giant robot appeared in front of them, and alongside the machine appeared Lucas, Ten, Taemin, Baekhyun, and Jongin. 

“Split them up,” Baekhyun said to the rest of them. 

“Junhong, can you protect yourself?” Mirae glanced at the taller male. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine, they probably wouldn’t. Remember what Hyuk and Chanyeol taught the rest of you,” Junhong muttered to them. 

“You know, I’m kind of glad Hyuk and that tall dope have now left this earth,” Baekhyun spoke. “All this sentiment, it just makes you weak.” 

“They were mutants too, Baekhyun, you knew them just as well,” Mirae said through gritted teeth. 

Baekhyun smirked. “No, they were nothing to me, and I knew they were everything to you. To the extent that you neglected those people around you right now.” 

“Releasing that robot into the city isn’t going to make you any more or less powerful, you know,” San blurted out, eyeing the rest of them. 

“One is already out in the open, this is just another one,” Ten pointed out. 

Mirae glanced at the males behind her. “Get the rest of them, but leave Baekhyun and Jongin to me,” She muttered. She turned back to the rest. “I’ve got a bone to pick with two of you.” 

“No matter how much we fight, there’s nothing that you can do to stop Project Apocalypse from happening. It’ll start from Seoul, and then to the rest of the world,” Taemin said. 

Mirae shook her head. “There’s always something.” Her eyes began to glow along with her fingertips. San’s and Seonghwa’s eyes and fingertips began to glow with their power signatures as well. 

[jadelynlace]

Drunk / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU  Request [Ivar x F!Reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom ♡ “Drunk Ivar & Reader”

author’s note: thanks to the notes on this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests.

synopsis: Getting drunk with Ivar and learning how this man doesn’t suffer from whiskey dick.

content warning(s): uh, smut. yeah.

✎

“You and Hvitserk have a lot of time alone in the ambulance, right?” Ivar asks, eyes blinking slowly as the tequila takes to his bloodstream, four separate shots already claiming their victory. You only nod in response. “And you guys talk a lot, right?” Comes his next question and you nod once more. “Did he ever tell you about the time he dated Ubbe’s first ex-wife?” Your head shot up to see his, still smiling with a plastered drunk smirk, dork-like as he rested his chin on his folded hands. “He never told you? Oops.” And he laughed.

“No—but you are,” You say back, sliding the now half empty bottle of tequila across the granite counter top to meet his palm. There’s an easiness to his hands still, pouring another shot and he counts down with you, tossing the clear liquid back and now he’s starting to grimace slightly with each additional shot.

“Ubbe and her were married for like a year, maybe—I don’t even remember. Right out of college and then they divorced.”

“Ubbe is older than Hvitserk.”

“Right.” Ivar says, shot glass tipped towards you.

“So the lady was older than Hvitserk too?”

“Right, again. See—so smart.” Ivar replies, tapping the glass against his temple. “Hvitserk was getting his paramedic certificate, and seeing her on the side—when she was legally divorced.” He added, pouring another shot.

“So Hvitserk has a mommy kink because he’s into older women?” You say, timed right as Ivar tosses the shot back and your words register in his mind and suddenly the alcohol burns for another reason. There’s a few coughs that come from his mouth and you can’t help the sly smile from your lips.

“Please never use ‘Hvitserk’ and ‘mommy kink’ in the same sentence, babe,” Ivar says, still trying to calm the coughing fit that you sent him into.

“Make me,” You say, the words leaving your lips as you round the counter. Ivar’s head tips and you trace your eyes from his down his body and then back up again. “Unless you think you’re suffering from whiskey-dick,” Ivar steps into your space suddenly, pinning you against the counter like prey and you feel the quick flutters of your heart beat increase, sending the pulsations down your body and trickling into your middle as he presses up against you.

“I’m not, but I think just to be safe we should stay right here,” Ivar says, his hands catching the edge of the granite and he ducks his head to catch your gaze. “What do you think?” And his eyes flicker, drunk-ness draining from them and replaced with fire and you no sooner pull his mouth to yours. Rushed as your lips tangle, sending the tequila from both of your tongues to mix, Ivar spins you in his grasp and presses your chest over the cooling stone.

There’s a swat from his hand on your backside and you moan, cheek pressing against the display of colors and Ivar so enjoys the sounds you make after your skin takes to his quick pace. It’s the fix you both need, going back to the drinking games between the two of you but you want to feel him leak from your cunt for the remainder of the night. Your thoughts stop when you feel Ivar push into you, quickly your walls spread and you try to press your head against the counter but there’s no additional space. Suddenly Ivar’s hands pull you up enough, resting his weight against you and one of his hands finds yours. The snaps of his hips are quick, strong and forceful and you can hear the glasses clinking in the cupboard above the two of you as he grunts with each movement. 

The sounds of your wetness catch between both of you, shaking and starting to limp in his grasp as he speeds up, arms crushing against you and you can feel the overwhelming build take to your skin. Churning deeply and then you’re right on the cusp, wanting to tell Ivar but all your lips can produce are small mews, whines of his name and then your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Strongest to date and you scream, fluid meeting both of you and Ivar stills as he feels it, soaking where you are connected and dripping to his upper thighs. He can feel your body loosen in his grasp, floating in the pleasured headspace and you hear him moan something about how good you are, how well you take him and then you hear him groan as he comes, filling you with his release and pressing the two of you against the counter. 

It grows sticky between your thighs, Ivar still panting in your ear as he pulls back, the tip of his cock slipping out and he grabs your panties quickly to catch the mess that’s coming in his wake. There’s a whine from your mouth as he moves, putting space between the two of you and the noise guts him. You sound like you’ve been shot and he’s quick to turn you around.

“What?” He asks, and you nuzzling against his chest, legs still shaky and you can’t even articulate what you’re feeling.

“I wanna shower,” You say in a whine and Ivar can’t cover his confusion if his life depended on it. “Never done that before,” and then it hits him and he can’t stop the spread of the bastard smirk that claims his lips at your confession.

“Let’s go shower baby,’ Ivar says, lifting you onto the counter to get leverage to carrying you through his apartment. “And then we’re going to get well acquainted with that sensation,”

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk  @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang  @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa  @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @a5hl3y5ibley

[obae-me]

Beneath Still Waters- CH 1

Miracle Meeting

Word count: 3600

Summary: It’s the first of many strange meetings you’ve yet to come across. As you feel you’ve hit rock bottom, someone comes along to give you an opportunity. Feeling like you have no other choice, you pack a bag and head to a town known as Old Midev, the place where your adventures will soon begin. 

Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader, I do not endorse always following the advice of a stranger, but for trope purposes, it’s fun.

They say that despite the appearance of calm surfaces, you should always be aware of the danger of currents churning just beneath them. There’s a point people warn you about, for once you drift too far from shore, there’s a good chance you’ll never be able to come back, even for all your fights and struggles. The best thing for you to do at that point is move with the flow, all the better to keep your head above water. Is that what your life had come to at this point? Had you been swept along by unseen forces, working to barely keep afloat? 

A little raindrop made its way down the glass pane, weaving and shifting past other stagnant dots of moisture. The trail it left formed small beads before it drifted down too far, disappearing from view. The locomotive ticked and churned along its path, unaffected by the storm outside. You sighed, changing your posture after having sat in your current one too long. Everything in your body was stiff, your muscles were sore, but most of all you were undeniably nervous. Was this a mistake? You wondered. Had it been too good to be true? But at this point...was there a better alternative? In all honesty, your life was at a low point. A very low point. Due to circumstances beyond your control, you’d lost your job, been told you had to find a new place to live by the next month, and finding any sort of stability financially, mentally, or otherwise seemed nigh on impossible. 

That was, till about two days ago. Trying to scrounge up any semblance of peace, you’d taken a trip to a local park. Disheveled, heartbroken, you sat on a bench, pondering if soon you’d have to sleep on this very seat in the near future. At that point, it seemed like a very real possibility. Little kids threw balls at each other and screamed in joy, the birds around you sang without a care. Everyone else looked happy. Everyone else didn’t seem to struggle as you did. And while it seemed silly, you couldn’t help but seem envious of everything. Envious of the adults who seemed to have everything together. Envious of the free birds. Even envious of the little flowers planted in their permanent little pots. 

“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts, some worry racing through your mind, wondering if the stranger had noticed how bitterly you watched the passersby. The man was a kind looking soul; bright blue eyes, dark-toned skin, well-kept clothes, a shining smile on his attractive features. A soft breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled his ivory jacket closer around him, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, the ends of the fabric billowing behind his shoulders. Something about him struck you as otherworldly, but you couldn’t place it. 

Aware of the way you looked compared to him, you scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench, straightening your own clothes in an attempt to make your hoodie and sweatpants a bit more presentable. “Uh...sure…” 

As he sat down, he thanked you only to apologize right after. “I’m sorry, I just had a feeling...maybe you could use some company.” Had you really looked that pathetic? Like a wounded animal left on the side of the road and calling out for help? You refrained from making a comment, hunching your shoulders instead. The stranger tilted his head at you, then lifted his chin to observe the puffy clouds drift up above your heads. “A beautiful day,” he expressed. “Don’t you think?” Really? Out of everything that could’ve possibly happened today, a charming yet odd stranger basically asked how you thought the weather was? Was it a good day? Was today, a day you’d been handed two rejected applications, a day you’d been hunting for anyone to take you in, a day you felt as if nothing could get worse, a good day? “It doesn’t have to be a good day,” he started, speaking as if he’d directly read your thoughts, “For it to be a beautiful one.” The breath in your lungs stopped for a moment as you observed him with semi-wide eyes. How did he…? The man simply shot you a sympathetic grin. “Ah, sorry for the assumptions. It’s just, in my line of work, you tend to see a lot of people sport the same expression. I couldn’t help but notice it on you when I passed by.” 

Some heat poured into your cheeks. So you had been that easy to read. A small family walked by in front of you, one of the younger children running too far ahead. Their guardians hurriedly reminded them not to go too far. Once they passed, you straightened your slouched posture, taking a deep breath. “In your line of work?” 

“I’m a doctor,” he explained. 

“Ah…” How much despair had he seen, how many grief-stricken people had left such an impression on him that he could simply tell how someone was feeling just by their face? Was he an empath or just observant? It doesn’t have to be a good day for it to be a beautiful one, he’d said. The leaves off the trees shone different shades of green, some shifting to warm hues in preparation for the approaching autumn, rustling under the beams of sun branching out from behind the clouds that rolled past the grey-blue sky. The air was crisp enough for jackets, but not yet cold enough for coats. You could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, the air carrying the scent from the bakery just across the street. It was...rather stunning. “I’m going to be homeless.” The truth slipped out of you before you could process even moving your lips. With it, your emotions followed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been working towards has failed. My efforts amount--they amount to nothing! I don’t even know where to go or-or what to do anymore.” A choked back sob made your voice waver. “I’m sorry...I don’t even know you, I--I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just shared all that with a stranger.” The tears slowly began to dry as you brushed them away with the back of your hand. 

“Dr. Matthews,” he stated. “But you can call me Simeon.” 

You blinked, sniffling a little as you glanced quizzically at him. “Huh?” 

He rummaged for a few things in the confines of his pockets. With an outstretched hand, he offered you two things. One, a tissue, something you accepted with more than a little sheepishness as you dabbed the end of your nose with it. The second was a business card. It was a white and rather professional looking little paper with gold lettering. The name and title ‘Dr. Simeon Matthews’ was printed on the front, along with his email, business phone number, and website address. “Now I’m not a total stranger.” He smiled earnestly, and something about the idea of a doctor easily convinced that simply sharing a name would immediately make you acquaintances let a bubble of amusement float to the top of your mind. 

“Simeon?” You repeated, and he nodded to confirm you’d gotten it right. The vowels slid past your lips. “It’s a nice name.” 

He beamed at the compliment. “Thank you.” His long legs shifted and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled with an internal thought. “Tell me...have you heard of Old Midev?”  You hadn’t. In fact, you couldn’t even tell what he was referring to by name alone. A book? A show? An illness? “It’s a little old town quite a ways from here, but it’s where I grew up. It’s so small most maps don’t even bother displaying it,” he chuckled. Homesickness stood out behind his eyes, his smile a lonely one. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been home...Do you like house-sitting?” His question left you stunned, and a pit formed in your stomach. You could connect the dots. Was he inferring what you thought he was? 

“Simeon!” A high voice turned both your heads. A child about the age of ten or twelve was awkwardly running towards the bench with a little plastic container in his hands. Golden hair bobbed across his forehead as he stood before the man and presented the container; a little cupcake with pink frosting and pearl-like sprinkles dwelled inside. From under the kid’s blue jacket sleeves, you spotted bandages as well as a medical bracelet covering his wrists. “I managed to get one! They let me watch them make it fresh! Doesn’t it look delicious?” 

“It looks amazing, Luke!” Simeon addressed the pale child. “But remember what I told you about running?” 

Luke huffed and raised his nose. “I’m old enough to buy this by myself! I can handle running a little.” 

“I just want to be cautious is all,” Simeon assured him. The doctor used a hand to gesture towards the kid. “This is Luke, he’s a patient of mine.” Your heart quickly sank. It explained the bracelet, why Luke looked too pale, why his bright tufts seemed so thin. Simeon noticed your face quickly drain, and he playfully ruffled Luke’s hair. “He’s been a fighter, but it’ll end up being moot if you waste all your energy running around like a rabid chihuahua!” 

Luke, affronted, swatted Simeon’s hand away and fixed the stray strands. “I’m not a chihuahua!” There was fire in him yet. He pulled the cupcake box closer to his chest like he had to protect it. His sweet innocence and their wholesome dynamic let a smile curl across your face, something that hadn’t happened to you for a while. “Who’s your friend, Simeon?” 

The man hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain that you two had literally just met, and your name had yet to be announced. He’d probably refrained from asking in the event it would make you uncomfortable. You drifted your sight between the two of them, the sense of unease devoid from your intuition. Usually you could trust your gut on sketchy strangers. The two of them felt warm, safe, strangely familiar, like you’d been fated to cross paths. Some faith in your humanity was restored, and as you looked at Luke, you remembered that other people were suffering too. If he could, you too could fight a little longer. With a little sigh, you let some of the heavy weight of hopelessness slide off your shoulders, and you shared your name. 

And that was simply the beginning of your journey. A meeting of miracles. 

Simeon had asked you again how you felt about house-sitting, and before he took off with Luke, he encouraged you to give the number on his card a call once you’d thought it over. Now here you were, on a train to this town of his, doing something potentially reckless. Old Midev...small alright. After you’d double checked Simeon’s doctorate claims, you’d searched this town. It did exist, but it took you a while to find it. For the longest time, the only result that would show up were some crackhead conspiracy posts on a mystic sea creature written by someone calling themselves The Sorcerer. There was only a lake in that town, nothing really seaworthy about it. Nothing really note-worthy about it, in fact. From the overhead map view, you could see a school, a library, a park, a gym, a grocery store, a few other scattered businesses--basically the bare minimum--and that was it. There were only about 800 people, and even that was slowly declining as residents moved away. But in that town held the potential of some support, a shelter, some hope, at least until you could get back on your own two feet. 

The train buckled a bit, the speed starting to decline. You picked your head up, eyes heavy as you’d almost begun to nod off. Only now did your heart begin to pound. New people. A new environment. Would you be able to tell people you were basically someone’s charity case? That you were going to be squatting in someone’s empty home till you could sort yourself out? Groaning, you tapped your feet against the floor to get your nerves out. It took about another ten minutes before the train came to a complete stop. The luggage you’d brought with you resided in a single large suitcase in the proper compartment. Everything else you owned you had boxed up and placed in a storage unit in your old city. 

If the station you stepped out onto was a testament to what the town was like, you could see that it truly lived up to the name Old Midev. The train had pulled next to the only station in town. It almost seemed as if the station itself was built before the rails, and they conveniently converted it into a station as an afterthought. It looked more like a barn than anything. A little red wooden building with rusty red walls and white trim that had begun to chip and grey with time. The platform was decorated with log benches, carved animal statues, and barrels that had been cut in half to serve as flower planters. There was a nice little overhead to keep people--and you--from standing out in open weather. Even though it was still raining, it had lessened to a light sprinkle. As you tried to move, your luggage quickly got snagged on a nail sticking out from the creaking floorboards underneath you. With a tug, you got it free. The pistons to the train hissed as they prepared to shut the doors behind you. It’s your last chance to turn around. It’ll be hard to get out of this if you stay, you told yourself. And yet you stood your ground, watching the train start to chug away. 

Simeon had given you some insight into a few things before he’d so graciously purchased your ticket for you. One, he told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed. Yes, this town housed his home, and yet his work had him traveling constantly, so there was no one there to look after it. Two, his extra set of keys was in a compartment behind a wall plaque with a proverb on it. And three, a friend of his would be waiting at the station when you arrived to help take you to the house you’d be staying at. Only...you were seemingly the only living soul around. Swiveling your head to observe the area around you, you only further confirmed this. There was no one else here. No one was sitting down, no one was inside the building when you peeked in the windows. Being alone in...such an unfamiliar place...out in the middle of nowhere. Your blood started to run cold. Should you have done more background checks on Simeon? Yes, there was a website and a secretary and Luke and everything...but maybe it had all been staged! Was it all fake? Did you make a mistake? What were you even doing hopping on a train to come all the way out here?! Sure you had joked about dropping your entire life to move to a desolate place and change the way you lived, but you never thought it would be this frightening in the moment!

“Hey.” The monotone voice of someone behind you made you shout. You quickly turned, placing your suitcase in front of you in the event you needed to use it as a shield. You’d brought a self defense keychain with you and hidden it in your sleeve. Up until now, you hadn’t had to use it yet...but you would if you were desperate. There before you, occupying the space you could’ve sworn was empty, was a man; ripped jeans, dark circles under his eyes about as dark as the large sweatshirt he was wearing. Floppy purple hair with frosted ends hovered in front of his vision. He had a chain around his neck, a dirty look across his face, and a strange intense stance. You were dead. You knew it. Somehow you’d been fooled into coming here, and now you were about to be killed. “Are you the person Simeon sent?” 

Oh...was this the friend Simeon had talked about? Your nerves were still on edge, but you found it a little easier to breathe. “Y-yes...are you…” 

“Yeah. He sent me here to pick you up. I’m kinda late, I-” He was interrupted by his own large yawn. “I overslept. But it’s whatever.” Wasn’t it already dipping into the late afternoon? There was still some trepidation inside you, and he must’ve finally noticed your defensive stance. “Oh. Simeon told me to say ‘seraph’...I think it was the word.”  Seraph had been Simeon’s little safety measure to try and ease your anxiety and to prove who to trust. It was such a random little word, you’d doubted anyone could come up with it without being told by Simeon first. Your shoulders loosened a bit. Although, still...not to stereotype...but you found it interesting that a character like Simeon would be friends with someone like...this person before you. He appeared as if he’d torn up his entire wardrobe with a set of knives and yet looked entirely comfortable about it. Like...soft-emo-core. And yet their clashing attire wasn’t what bothered you...it was Simeon’s angelic nature vs...this person’s apathetic attitude. Well, who were you to judge? Simeon just always threw more surprises at you. 

“Yeah. That was the word.” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I wouldn’t know left from right here.” 

His blank face managed a little laugh. “Most people don’t. Anyway, come on, my brother has the car running.” He already started walking off, not even bothered to check to make sure you were following. You muttered some curses in your head before dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, trying not to trip on the uneven platform. 

“Your brother?” 

“Yeah, I don’t like driving,” he replied, kicking a few stray rocks as he hopped off the platform and onto an unpaved road. A large four-door red pickup truck was idling a few feet ahead. Through the darkened window, you could see another man--the brother, you pieced together--eating behind the wheel. You grimaced. Getting inside a vehicle with two people you didn’t know was exactly the sort of thing you’d been told not to ever do. The one time your escort actually looked back was the time you’d hesitated. “What,” he smirked. “You think we’re going to murder you or something?” 

You stopped in your tracks. “Maybe! I don’t know you!” Your accusatory tone came out of nowhere. “You still...Simeon told me the name of the person coming to get me. You haven’t told me your name.” 

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Even if he’d told you, you weren’t sure you'd fully believe him. The main factor that contributed to some trust was all thanks to the person who rolled down the window of the truck, swallowing another handful of fries. “Belphie! Why didn’t you help them with their suitcase?” The name was right. Simeon had told you the person coming to get you would’ve been called Belphie. Strange name. Much like the password, you doubted anyone would’ve just made up a name like that on the spot. 

“Eh. I didn’t feel like it. It looks heavy,” Belphie admitted. You almost glared at him. What is with this guy?

The other man opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was wearing a tracksuit. Red jacket and matching crimson pants, both of which had black stripes running vertically up the sides. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, a little bright stain of some sort smudged on his chest, probably some condiment from what he’d been eating. Unlike his brother, he had bright red hair and an expressive face, although his voice shared the same consistent and unwavering deep tone like his sibling. He stepped towards you, almost giving you a heart attack when you realized just how tall and muscular he was. God help any creature that dared to upset him. When he moved his arm in your direction, you felt faint, but then he simply grasped your luggage with one hand and plucked it up from the ground, settling it gently in the bed of the truck. 

He turned on his feet towards you, Belphie slinking away to get into the passenger seat of the car without even offering to help. “You’re MC, right? Simeon told us some about you.” The doctor hadn’t known you for very long, so the ‘some’ must’ve been the whole...rock bottom explanation. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “That’s my twin, Belphie.” Twins? They didn’t exactly strike you as such just on an observational standpoint, but it’s not as if twins were always identical. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

“It’s okay…” You mustered up a polite grin. 

“You can call me Beel.” Beel opened one of the backdoors to the car, quickly clearing the backseat by shoving old takeout bags into one slightly bigger bag before settling it on one spot on the floor, looking a bit proud of his swift cleaning job. “Hop in, MC. Let’s bring you to Old Midev.” 

[arknights-imagines]

the christmas prompt but with executor pleasee

From, Executor

Christmas Letter and Gift event

The Christmas event has now concluded!! 🥺☃️ I'll make a post talking more about the event at a later date! 🌸

You honestly expected to be working during the Holidays, but as it turns out, everyone at Rhodes Island receives a small break for Christmas - and that includes you.

The break was already awfully gracious in your opinion; so imagine your surprise when you had entered your office to collect your belongings to take home with you for the Holidays, only to find a white envelope closed with a red wax seal on your desk.

Brow lifted, you approach your desk and carefully pick it up - on the back of the envelope, your name is printed in oddly familiar uniform hand-printing and the letter feels thin in your hand. Did someone get you a Christmas gift? You don’t recall anyone hinting to you that they were planning to get you one.

Nevertheless, you forget your original reason for coming by your office, and instead you allow all your attention to be captured by the letter; the seal breaks easily, and inside the envelope you find a sheet of paper folded carefully in half, bearing rows upon rows of words written in that same uniform penmanship - but this time you smile and your eyes soften, as when you read the first line you recognize who the writing belongs to.

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

Hello love.

I was not planning on sending you a letter, so please forgive my suddenness. I assure you that I have a reason for taking up your time; though, while I am not certain I will be able to articulate my thoughts very well while writing this, trust in me when I say this letter comes from a place of warmth in my heart that I did not even know existed until you and I encountered each other.

While this is indeed a Holiday letter, I see no use in Christmas; but I am well aware others care for it very much. Laterano commemorates Christmas to an extreme extent, even going as far as decorating the streets, churches and all buildings for the occasion - they are very advanced in technology, and so many of the cities are illuminated with phenomenal light displays during this time of year; I have seen such on many occasions. I am educated on the traditions closely related to Christmas and I saw that it mattered to others, though I did not understand the motive behind celebrating it. I lacked a reason to spend time enjoying the Holidays, as well as someone to enjoy said Holidays with.

[Name]; now that you are in my life, I think I understand the reasons as to why people enjoy Christmas to a greater extent than I did previously, but it goes much beyond that - after being with you, and as our relationship grew into something I never anticipated it to become, many aspects of my life changed.

I found myself having you in my thoughts while carrying out missions, I noticed I became worried beyond belief if you were not caring for yourself or if you were hurt, and the way I viewed the world became less and less mechanical. Perhaps the Notarial Hall would see these new thoughts and feelings as problematic or as something that would hinder my ability to complete missions and work; but I am the most content I have ever been. Love, at your side I’ve found happiness and warmth that I did not think I had the capacity for. Words cannot adequately express my gratefulness for you - thank you.

As for Christmas specifically, the Laterano Notarial Hall offers a period of leave in order for people to celebrate Christmas with their families and those they care about. Rarely have I ever taken this leave, as a matter a fact, the only times I would pause my work were when I was very ill or hospitalized. I’ve always disregarded any Holidays and continued my work as usual because I had no reason to take time to enjoy them. This year, however, I will accept the offer. Why’s that? It’s quite simple; I wish to celebrate Christmas with you, love.

[Name], it may seem odd I am taking time away from my work - the fact I am not prioritizing my mission over all else as I typically would it is strange to me as well. For a very long time, carrying out the commissions I was given was the sole thing I cared about, but now that you are here, my mission is not of most importance to me; you are. Oripathy, Catastrophes, war, death - though I am well aware these things are able to end either of our lives unceremoniously, I do not worry about them when I have you in my thoughts, love. Maybe I am repeating myself, but I feel most at ease when I am with you, and I feel very happy whenever we are together. And so, I feel as though I need to spend this Holiday season expressing my appreciation to you.

I understand we spend much of our time together, both when working and when resting, though the Holidays seem like an occasion that is much more special; it is a time where I can spend time with you and cherish those moments without any distractions or worries.

My knowledge of Christmas traditions outside of religious and cultural ones, as well as what one does during the Holidays is limited, but that matters not. As long as I spend it with you, my time away from my work will be very well spent. I understand that I may not be the ideal person to celebrate the Holidays with, so no need to worry if you do not wish to spend the entirety of your break with me. Even if it is just minutes, I will and I do hold every moment I spend with you very close to my heart.

From what I have heard, Rhodes Island is also offering a Holiday break to its employees. I will never force you to do anything, but I hope you will accept the offer. Of course, you do not have to use your break to celebrate the Holidays if you do not wish to; in your case [name], I believe that any free days you get should be used to rest if nothing else. I tell you this very often, but rest is necessary, love. You mean very much to me, so please take care of yourself.

People give each other gifts on the Holidays as a sign of appreciation, is that correct? So it was only appropriate that I gave you something for Christmas. My research told me that jewelry or clothing are ideal gifts for your lover, but I do not agree; purchasing a store-bought gift felt empty to me. I wanted my gift to you to express my fondness toward you, and a gift from a store is simply unable to encapsulate that. Because of that, I made the decision to hand-make one. Gifts are meant to be unexpected, a surprise; but I apologize for not asking if you wanted one beforehand. I ask that you please accept it regardless.

As of writing this, I have just sent a notice to the Notarial Hall informing them that I will be away for the Holidays. When my break begins, I plan on spending most of my time with you. If you take Christmastime off as well, we should choose something to do to celebrate the Holidays; but if not, I have no problem assisting you with your work.

[Name] - this warmth, the way my heartbeat quickens and I cannot restrain my smile whenever you are with me; even now, what I feel towards you is something I have trouble understanding and putting into words. It is a feeling I can only describe as love. And as such, the best way I can express what I feel is this: I love you. Everyday from this point onward, I promise I will love you to the best of my ability.

Please look after yourself, love.

Executor

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

Though you’re standing on your own two feet when you read the letter, as it comes to its conclusion your whole body feels airy and a floating sensation fills you at the sincerity in Executor’s words.

Everyone else around the both of you saw him as a coldhearted robot who lacked any emotions, but Executor was not what he seemed - or maybe you’re the only one who thought that way because he reserved his warmth for you. Regardless, you adore him in a way you can't describe; unbeknownst to him, he makes you feel the most loved you have ever felt, and for that, you silently swear to yourself that you will always be at his side.

Your eyes search around for the aforementioned gift Executor had spoken about in his letter, and your eyes fall back to your desk, where you notice something circular wrapped in white cellophane sat atop your papers. The shiny cellophane is opaque, wrapping around the gift and bunching at the top, where a red ribbon holds it together. You lift a brow; from the shape of the gift, you're unable to immediately discern what it is.

Curious, you carefully undo the ribbon and pull away the cellophane wrapping; as the gift is revealed, your eyes go slightly wide and your lips fall agape.

Sat on a thin cake board is a traditional angel food cake, with its hollow center decorated with an assortment of colorful berries. The icing sugar covering its surface reminds you of snow, and a mouthwatering sweet smell from the cake glides your way after you remove it from the cellophane wrapping.

Restorting to using a tissue from the box on your desk as a makeshift glove to avoid touching it with your bare hands, you take a small piece of the cake from off its side; you’re beyond amazed at the sweet taste, cloudy taste that fills your mouth as you eat the small bite of cake.

You recall what Executor had mentioned in his letter to you - ‘And so, I made the decision to hand make one’ - he had made the cake himself. Your eyes fill with awe, rarely did the Rhodes Island cafeteria offer sweets such as the one you had in front of you, and at the fact that Executor had taken his time to bake you something for Christmas makes your heart explode with warmth.

Just as you’re about to take another piece off of the cake, your eyes notice a tag hanging off the ribbon that was previously holding the wrapping together. Placing the oh-so-tempting cake aside for now, you focus your attention to the handwritten note that’s on the paper tag, ‘Merry Christmas, love. As someone born in Laterano, I understand the basis of baking, but I have not put said skills to practice in a very long time, nor have I ever baked something for someone else. While homemade angel food cake is not a feat deserving of a standing ovation, I hope you enjoy it. If you would like, perhaps I can teach you how to make it during the Holidays.’

His words make you pause, and a smile comes to your face. After a few moments, you put your tissue away and wrap the cake back up; it’s like they say - some things are better enjoyed with someone you love, and after reading the last line of his note, you decide you’ll wait for Executor. ‘[Name], while I understand a gift like this is not permanent or long lasting, my feelings toward you are. Even if I may not do it in the best way, even if I find it hard to understand; as long as I am able to, I will love you. That is my vow to you.’