#i will stand there and read the entire terms and conditions out loud to you i don't give a shit if there are ten people waiting in line

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. / chapter 15.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin)

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: flashback five - also known as the start of the heist that may grant you a chance at living in the sun

Warnings: verbal arguments, miscommunications, self harm language, mentions of injury, death, and illness

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CHAPTER 15 - FLASHBACK: FIVE

note: the next couple of chapters will be heavily influenced by the ova 'no regrets'. they are my interpretations of the material. please watch those episode first, otherwise you will get spoiled on elements revolving around levi's backstory.

“This is suicide.”

Furlan winces at your strong reaction. Isabel pales.

They’re both sitting on the edges of the love seat couch, equal parts surprised yet expectant of your reluctance.

Of course they had Levi break the news first.

Neither of them wanted the blow back of your rage at the mere entertainment of such a problem.

Levi, however, can take your anger and neatly fold it with the rest of the clothes you’ve shared since you were kids. He knows how to dismantle your rage in ways the other two have never quite mastered.

At the kitchenette table, the raven-haired man doesn’t move from his chair. Leisurely his arm drapes along its back, legs crossed in front of him. You wait a full table-length away from him, hunched with your hands pressed into the wooden surface separating you.

A stand off.

The other two watch like hawks, awaiting a response from Levi that never arrives. You feel the worry rolling off of Furlan and Isabel in waves, a concern they can’t quite voice, but all you can do is stare at him.  

Dead eyes, unwilling to express anger or excitement, meet you.

Right now, you hate him.

You hate Levi’s neutrality.

You hate this godforsaken city. 

Most importantly, you hate how easy a few pretty words can upend your entire operation.

After a long stretch of silence Isabel clears her throat, fidgeting with her fingers. “We would be careful, sis. We’re always so careful. The old man said—”

“I know what he told you, Isa,” you snap, and Isabel whimpers with uncertainty. “I think I heard it loud and clear — unless there’s a part of the proposal I missed. Levi?”

His eyes flinch to a narrowed state.

You’re angry.

You’re angry because a devil made an offer.

Not just any devil — a devil from the surface, one that lives within the walls and takes the sunlight for granted. A demon willing to dangle the one thing everyone in the Underground City district desires most on a flimsy little stick: 

Salvation.

More specifically, documentation that’s as precious as rare rubies. Papers that bypass the thugs bleeding funds dry at the top of the stairs. A ticket to a better life, one where a person like you can walk among the living rather than fight with the dead for scraps.

The offer sounds too good to be true.

It sounds too good to be true because it is.

(We were offered a job by someone from the surface, someone with the reputable means to back up his payment, and we accepted the terms and conditions in exchange for money and a one-way ticket to the surface.)

Ever since you were seventeen, finding a way for the four of you to live on the surface is all Furlan has wanted. Now you're twenty-one with an opportunity for a way out. You cannot take an entire gang there — the transport of underlings cannot work like that, the logistics are not feasible, but this?

For the people he’s grown up with, laughed with, cried with?

(His family — Furlan has said the doomed word more than once to your face, to Isabel’s, to Levi’s. None of you have ever corrected him.)

What was once a fruitless idea has been fertilized and harvested, corrupted by grubby hands who can make a pipe dream happen.

It’s poisonous to a dreamer like him — like Isabel, who has never lost her knack for dreaming no matter how dire things get, so you focus your efforts on the only other person in this apartment who may see the reality for what it is.

A lost cause.

(A trap.)

“Doesn’t it seem wildly convenient,” you begin with a bite, “that some rich asshole found the three of you wandering the streets with little to no trouble? We’re supposed to have eyes everywhere. We’re virtually untouchable, even on the main roads.”

“The Military Police have been after us for years, James,” Furlan argues, but his words falter closer to a plea. “Pretty sure everyone down here knows our names. And it’s not like the Military Police have no idea where we live, so it stands to reason this guy—”

“That isn’t the point, Furlan,” you tell him. “You’re talking about the MPs. This guy is not an MP. He’s an outsider.”

Furlan’s frown deepens. “So?”

“So?" you repeat. "So you don’t think it’s suspicious, at all, that this shithead is offering us a job—” The humorless laugh bubbling on your lips stops your train of thought. “Actually, calling this a job is an insult to what we’ve built.”

“James—”

“Blackmail, Furlan. It’s fucking blackmail.” You pause, allowing the word to permeate through the room. “He is blackmailing us with the promise of money and the one thing everyone down here wants.”

A right to the surface.

A chance to live a life in the sun.

“Because we’re the only ones who can pull off a heist like this!”

Isabel urges with a naivety you typically adore. Right now? You loathe it. 

“How many other people, what other gangs, have what we have? The numbers. The ODM stuff. The old man believes in us.”

On instinct, you sneer.

Belief, like it’s stronger than money.

Instead of taking your anger out on her — she doesn’t deserve it, not when you know her bleeding heart would pour itself dry without hesitation for a chance to bring this found family to surface safely — you snap your attention back to the quiet, contemplative man across from you.

He’s too calm about this; Levi trusts people from the surface as far as he can throw them.

Granted, it’s probably further than the distance you can toss, but still — it isn't far.

So you ask.

“Why?”

Levi's eyes narrow further, thinning to a sliver.

You lean in closer, gritting your teeth. Your necklace dangles off of your neck like a noose.

“Why are you okay with this?”

Curving your steps around the table, you walk towards him. Levi stays seated, eyes stalking your movements with practiced memorization.

“Why aren’t you telling them this is a terrible idea?”

Furlan holds out a noncommittal hand to stop you. “James—”

“Because we don’t have a choice,” Levi interrupts, finally standing from his chair. He doesn’t sound angry, but you know Levi sometimes better than you know yourself. Something is there, just under the layer of nonchalance. “It’s complicated.”

A storm flickers in his eyes when they meet yours.

“There’s nothing complicated about it,” you tell him, your words rushed under your breath. “We make the rules. From the very beginning until now, we make the rules. We don’t let surface scum tell us how to live our lives. We always have a choice.”

His chin tilts to the left. “Not this time.”

“Why?”

“We just don’t.”

“We do, Levi.”

“No, James, we don’t.”

He firmly emphasizes each syllable. 

Then, finally, he places the caveat on the table: 

“They have Yan.”

The warmth in your body pools at your feet, like the blood has seeped through the soles of your shoes and into the wooden blanks beneath.

It’s no secret that Yan, one of the long-time underlings of the gang, hasn’t been doing well.

Over the last few months, his legs have gone from bad to catastrophically worse. He’s barely managed on jobs, causing him to fall behind on earnings.

From the corner of your eye, you see it: Furlan’s head tilts back, eyes closed. He deflates, shoulders first, until his whole body shrinks.

It reeks of guilt.

(Why the hell would Furlan be guilty?)

Isabel is the opposite; her body tenses as her wild ginger hair flings side-to-side to look at Furlan, then Levi, then back to Furlan, waiting for an explanation.

Then you realize: she isn’t waiting for anything, not like you.

Because Isabel already knows that Yan’s being held hostage; she’s just waiting to see who will say it first — or if she’ll be forced to be the one to bring you into the loop.

Suddenly the world feels smaller, like you’re back in that little makeshift ring by an abandoned street stop.

Alone and fending for yourself.

“The hell do you mean, they have Yan?” You hate how shaken your voice sounds.

“Saw it with my own two eyes,” Levi tells you in a monotone manner. “There wasn’t anything we could do. So, no, we don’t have a choice — unless we want him to die.”

“Which means you all saw it.”

The words of doubt tumble from your tongue. Levi’s eyes tick in a squint to decipher what you mean, but you create physical space with a step backwards.

“All of you knew this wasn’t just about the money from some rich fuck, but you didn’t tell me the second you came back. Why didn’t—”

“I didn’t tell you right away because Furlan has been skimming money for Yan under the table,” Levi blurts, effectively stopping you from crawling into yourself. 

The ball of yarn halts in its unravel. An uncomfortable silence fogs the room.

“...what?”

But that isn’t your voice.

Isabel speaks now with the same confusion in your gut. Her fiery hair whips to Furlan for an explanation.

Furlan doesn’t move a muscle.

You blink back into your body, and soon you find Levi standing right in front of you. He urges you with just a look, a nonverbal reassurance:

Breathe.

You’re not alone.

(You aren’t fighting three against one again.)

“It’s no secret that his legs went to shit,” Levi explains, level yet earnest. “First it was his ankle. Then it was his knee. Then it became both knees. Whatever disease he has, it’s spreading and it’s spreading fast. All of us have seen it coming: he can barely keep up with his team. No jobs means no earnings. Those are our rules. Furlan chose to skim off the top to help with treatments.”

Levi tenses under your widening stare. 

“I knew," he finishes. "Furlan didn’t know I knew, but I did. Not Isabel, not anyone else — just me.”

Blame me, he’s telling you without saying so. Don’t punish everyone else for this.

(Levi Ackerman, always ready to shoulder your burdens without hesitation.)

Only one question numbly exits your lips: “For how long?” 

Levi studies your eyes.

“Since the Nightshade job.”

Piece by piece, the gravity of your situation comes together.

You can feel it weighing down your shoulders when your attention flickers to Furlan.

Furlan trembles as he continues to stare at the ceiling. His complexion is tinged with a mortified, red-handed glaze.

The corner of your lips pull to a sympathetic frown. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t anyone else’s business but Yan’s and Furlan’s,” Levi answers for the other man.

“But we could have helped,” you protest, turning your attention back to Levi. "Me, Isabel, all four of us — we could have helped."

“It’s a gang, James, not a church,” Levi bitterly argues. “If we help one person’s problems, then everyone looks for handouts. That isn’t how we operate.”

A hefty glare settles on your brow. “And now these people have Yan, who — by all intents and purposes — we could leave to die. Right?”

A squeak bubbles in Isabel's throat.

Levi tilts his chin with a knowing sharpness.

“Sure, if we want those bastards to torture him for information about us.”

There: the spark, the swift kick in your ass, to ignite the fire in your belly once again.

You’re mad, you’re furious — but not at any of them.

“So I was right,” you chide, chin dropping to your chest. “This is just blackmail—”

“His legs are shit out of luck if he doesn’t receive treatment at a surface clinic.”

A fingertip lifts the tip of your chin back up.

It’s enough of a shock to your system to get you to listen — Levi rarely, if ever, shows blatant affection in front of the other two, yet here he is: blurring the lines for the sake of keeping your focus.

“Bottom line is that I want to work with these pieces of shit just as much as you do, but without the proper medical treatment, Yan’s as good as dead," Levi explains. "Even if we left him to fend for himself, it could still destroy not only our reputation, but he could give them access to everything we have. Bringing Yan back is the best option for business. Furlan, Isabel, and I will do the job—”

Furlan, Isabel, and I?

“Wait.”

“—get him what he needs, bring him home—”

“Wait, what do you mean by—”

“—and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“—just the three of you?” you finally finish, voice smaller with each word. “But what about…”

“The bastard didn’t intercept you,” Levi says, and you push his hand from your chin.

“We need someone to take care of everyone else,” Isabel chimes in softly, shrugging a noncommittal shoulder.

You blink towards the younger girl with her shining eyes, seeking your approval; a cease fire to an awkward evening.

“If it’s a trap created by MPs, then at least we know our gang can get away if they come knocking on our door, right?” she adds. “James is fast. She’s a fighter. She can take them on, no problem.”

“No, Isabel,” you start, “what you need is a B-Team.”

“Hate to say it, but Isabel is right.” Furlan finally speaks, exhaling in a short huff. “He didn’t see your face or ask for you by name, so you’re kind of off the hook.”

In a shocking turn of events, Levi agrees in a matter-of-fact finality. “The less people involved, the better.”

That overwhelming sense of dread rears its ugly head once again, creeping up the veins of your neck.

“Don’t be stupid. Every job needs a B-Team,” you argue right back. “The three of you cannot just go on this job without eyes on—”

“Maybe not this one,” Levi shuts down your offer with little remorse. “This shit’s already two people too many.”

Your eyes grow, appalled.

“You’re serious?”

He doesn’t budge.

“I’m sorry, but are you fucking insane? What the hell happens, then, if any of you get caught?”

“James,” Furlan begins, holding both palms up. Your hair falls into your line of deadly sight when your attention whips to the lanky man with shaggy, ash-blonde hair. “We were doing this way before you came into the picture, okay? Levi and me, I mean."

You scowl. “You two were beating people up for money in fucking alleyways before me, not taking sacrificial bribes from surface pigs.”

Furlan frowns deeply, and you decide you hate him just as much as you hate Levi right now — because Furlan responds quietly and full of respect. Adoration.

“We’ll come home. We’ll make it to the surface, together. Please, you have to trust us.”

Your nostrils flare and the fire in your belly quells as you lock eyes with your friend.

“It isn’t you I don’t trust.”

Never. 

You trust the people in this little apartment more than anyone in the Underground City.

You would go to war with them, die for them, if it meant they could be happy.

Surely by now, after all these years, the three of them knew implicitly where you stood.

The problem, however, no longer lies below: it’s the people above you in more ways than one.

(What lies on the surface is the enemy.)

One false move and the four of you stand a chance to lose everything —

Including each other.

Sickened by the absolutes you face, your hands push off the table.

"Fuck this. If you want to kill yourselves, then be my guest. Throw it all away. We’re not making it to the surface.”

Isabel stands from the couch as you turn on a heel, spinning towards the front door. “Wait!”

“I’m not sticking around to watch you die, Isa,” you bite at the young girl. She flinches from your venom. “Same goes for you, Church, and Ackerman.”

You don’t wait any longer.

Can’t; you feel sick to your stomach and don’t want to make a mess of the apartment.

Without another word, you step past the threshold of the apartment and into the damp outdoor air. Your boots shuffle down the narrow staircase, quick and panicked.

Isabel calls out your name — your first name, a cheap trick that usually gets you to listen.

You don’t.

Passing the corner is as far as you get when you hear a second set of shoes following in tandem, hitting solid ground and turning a similar edge.

Let them.

You’re too upset to confront, to ward them off, especially when you have a pretty good feeling as to who may have run after you.

You continue your trek, head bowed to avoid the watchful eye of your gang runts guarding the apartment premises. Through a main street and into an alleyway you’ve grown so familiar with.

Twenty-one; it only took a few years to finally get here, where the dream dries to a mirage.

A warm hand grabs your bicep, anchoring you in place. “Hey.”

You stop.

You don’t fight.

“Hey,” you greet in return without turning, allowing your arm to float in the finite space between bodies.

“Want me to let you go so you can continue your dramatic nature walk?”

Lessening his grip for emphasis, Levi waits.

(I won't keep you prisoner.)

The baritone of his voice, neutral with an edge of care, vibrates through your body like a soothing aloe. 

“Depends,” you answer, craning your chin to watch him over your shoulder. “Are you going to run after me?”

“Kind of already did.”

The anger evaporates from the crown of your head to your toes with each passing second. Eventually you drop the heel of your boot to the ground, lessening the strain on your raised arm.

Then the tension between his brows dissolves, too, when it’s only the two of you here.

“Talk to me.” The request is barely above a whisper. “Don’t shut me out.”

His choice of words — your words, thrown back at your face — almost steals your breath.

“You shut me out about Yan,” you argue childishly. “About Furlan.”

“Like I told you, it wasn’t any of our business.”

“And you’re shutting me out of the job.”

“I’m not trying to—”

“It’s our home, Levi.”

You blink away, embarrassed by your sentiment. His hand flexes to let go of your arm. It unceremoniously drops to your side.

“We’re supposed to be… We’re supposed to watch out for each other. All four of us. That’s what we do. We don’t leave each other behind.”

“I know,” he says, somber, as if to apologize in his own way.

“If this is your half-baked attempt to protect me…”

You trail off when something flickers in his eyes. His expression shifts, and your shoulders drop.

“I could be a part of the heist,” you surmise, “but you’re leaving me out on purpose.”

His jaw clenches. “If I could leave Isabel out, too, then I would. Same with Furlan.”

“So it—”

“You’re the only one.”

Levi pauses, fighting to find the right words.

“You were the only one who wasn’t forced into that carriage. Chances are we’ll be flanked on all sides by Military Police. If things go to shit, then I know you’ll be safe back here.”

“Who can really guarantee that I’ll be safe?” You shake your head. “Isabel said it herself: it could be a trap. They could be trying to attack the rest of the gang while the three of you aren’t here.”

“Yeah, and there’s no one I trust more to make sure we’re still in operation. No one.”

He speaks with such conviction that you almost believe him.

(It’s not about trust in protecting assets, but something more basic than that.)

“And if you get arrested, then you don’t want me there,” you finally say what he won’t, and Levi’s eyes dart to the left to avoid yours. “You want me to be the last person standing.”

“We won’t get arrested.” His wispy black hair jostles when he shakes his head. “We’re too fast on ODM gear. The MPs won’t stand a chance.”

Silence engulfs the space. Your brain continues to run the numbers, the logistics, of the proposed heist plan given by this mysterious buyer. 

Every scenario, every issue, every failsafe — you can’t shake the foreboding chill in your blood.

“And who’s to say they haven’t already killed Yan?” you decide to ask, running through your list of concerns.

“Yan contacted Furlan two hours ago,” he answers. “He’s already at a first-rate clinic.”

“What if it’s bullshit? A set up, where they’re pretending to be Yan?”

“Do you think I’d fall for a fake report?” Levi scowls, insulted.

“No, but Furlan would.”

“I checked, twice.”

Which means it’s true.

Your doubt never creeps up to Levi, not once. 

Dejected in what little choice remains on the table, your attention subconsciously lands on his parted lips.

“...how do we receive the surface papers?”

“He already paid half of what he’s promised. I checked: it’s not bullshit. The money’s real,” Levi explains slowly. “Furlan, Isabel, and I will take the ODM gear and finish the job. Then we’ll get Yan back safely, give the money to the gang, and take you with us.”

“So I just… sit around like an old maid and hope everyone makes it back in one piece? Then we all get to hold hands, walk up the staircase, and strut straight through Wall Sina like we belong there?” You sigh heavily. “It sounds too good to be real.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But Isabel’s right: we have to make sure our people don’t get stuck in the crossfires with the MPs.”

“Then agree to a B-Team.”

You slide a boot forward, lifting your attention to his eyes. His attention, however, slides opposite of yours — further south, staring at your lips as you propose.

“Let me lead a small group of us to watch your back.”

“James.”

“Levi,” you murmur his name, “look at me.” Surprisingly, he obeys. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to butt out of the one job that might change our lives. You protect me, sure, but I protect you, too. We’ll maintain our distance and have units set up to guard the apartment, but I want to be on the streets making sure you’re clear.”

His brows knit together briefly. “...I need you to be safe.”

“I will.”

“Because if I’m out there thinking for one second that you’re not—”

Reaching for the collar of his shirt, you pull him in to press a chaste yet firm kiss to his lips.

He tenses, seemingly expecting a wild punch, but he melts on contact and wraps his arms around you with a fierceness only a dead man can possess.

Because that’s all anyone can be down here: dead lives, dead faces, waiting for the final nail in the coffin. The world doesn’t scare people like Levi.

(What he’s terrified of, however, is trapped against his chest. Two hearts wildly beating in tandem. Unspoken confessions. The light.)

You nip at his lower lip, causing a tiny, needy noise to exit his throat. His arms tighten, and his feet drag the two of you towards a nearby wall.

Out of view.

His tongue searches for yours and you relent, pressing your hips into his. He makes another short, broken noise, and bunches your shirt into his fist.

Running your fingers through his hair, you drag your nails against his scalp and try to convey your urgency: please don’t leave me behind, please don’t get caught, please don’t disappear.

After a minute he rips his lips away, face tinged with a pink, bashful hue. 

You open your eyes, drunk on the sight of his blush.

“...dirty trick,” he huffs without an ounce of anger in his voice.

“I got a couple of those up my sleeve,” you murmur in jest, smiling despite yourself.

He exhales again, sounding close to a laugh, and drops his forehead to yours. You press back, closing your eyes and allowing the moment to pass.

Peace.

(How much time do either of you have left?)

“Take a B-Team to the streets,” he finally relents. “Monitor our movements. Follow any MPs that might turn their attention to our employees. The client stated our target objectives will be making contact regardless of our consent, so as far as I’m concerned, the job’s already started.”

“I’ll keep our people safe, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he reassures, taking a rare moment of affection to lift his chin. His lips kiss the tip of your nose, warming your once frozen insides. “I trust you.”

You nod. “And when you finish the job, I’ll go where you go.”

He hums. “Is that right?”

“I made a promise, didn’t I?”

“Like a dumbass,” he jokes in that deadpan humor of his, and you can’t help but finally smile.

“But I’m your dumbass.”

“What an aspiration,” he groans, feigning annoyance. “My very own dumbass who’s gonna spend too much of her fucking time decorating our very dumbass house—”

“A house?”

Not just a house — our.

You abruptly pull your forehead from his to look him in the eye. Levi mentally backtracks, realizing his grave mistake from the way the whites of his eyes grow, but you press your hands into either side of his face to trap him in.

“Levi Ackerman, are you gonna get us a house?”

He sneers. “Where else are we going to fucking live?” 

“Are you kicking out Furlan and Isabel?” you ask, unable to stop the grin from growing on your face.

Levi, knowing damn well he’s been caught red handed, groans and drops his head back.

“With the amount of money we’re making from this heist, Furlan damn well better be able to afford his own house. I’m sick of cleaning up after his shit. Isabel can go with him.”

You bite your lower lip. “They could always be our neighbors.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

The sarcasm bleeds right through, and you can’t help it: the giggle bursts from your throat, and Levi leans in to pepper gentle kisses against the base of your throat.

“Can I get a pet?” you ask, lifting your chin to the sky.

“A furball?” His teeth nip playfully at your skin. You jolt. “The little shit’s hair will get everywhere.”

“It’s your consolation prize for demoting me to B-Team.”

He tsk’s under his breath, allowing a beat to pass.

“Maybe one.”

“A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“Or two.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“I’m negotiating, Ackerman.”

“You can negotiate once we have a key, alright?”

You giggle in response, tugging his chin up to stare into his eyes. Levi settles against you, arms still looped around your waist, and sighs through his nose.

He admires the view, clearly taking the moment to memorize every inch of your face.

It feels too final.

“Come back to me, Levi,” you murmur, pouring all of your emotions into five small words.

At first he nods, small and earnest, before sealing your words with a gentle kiss.

“I won't go far from you."

.

author's note: I'm glad we collectively giggled and screamed and kicked our feet in the last few chapters. It was a marvelous time. Now I'm out here ruining everything.

Thank you to all of your wonderful feedback, asks, reblogs, etc. I can't believe my draft doc is over 60K words! I want to say we're about halfway through the story I want to tell, if not further in. We're definitely halfway through the flashbacks, so I promise those who have been asking about the CH10 cliffhanger… just hang tight (like James - ha.)

Please note that there will not be an update on August 11, as I have a bachelorette weekend to attend for a friend, so I'm hoping to write through the week and maybe post the next update on August 18.

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @vigilancio @nomi98 @urfavcelestialangel @milkersonmac

[anoyedartist]

Idk why but I feel compelled to share my experiences with being an afab person who has adhd. This is a vent so please don't feel pressured to read if you don't want to read that kind of stuff:

When I was very young, my parents realised that something wasn't right, so they got me assessed. The therapist said that she suspected ADHD but wouldn't diagnose me because I was not hyperactive or loud. I grew up feeling out of place and I fell behind in school.

My parents and I frequently got into arguments over work and they just assumed I was being difficult. These arguments messed with all of our mental health and to this day I feel like it was my fault. I got bullied in school; I was their favourite target because I didn't fight back. I didn't know what to say and I was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

My parents treated me like I was neurotypical all the way until I got diagnosed at 16. They ignored my struggles and called me lazy. This has lead to me feeling extreme anxiety and guilt whenever I am not doing anything. I frequently take on too much, get overwhelmed and burned out and then be unable to motivate myself to do anything while beating myself up about it.

When I was diagnosed, I educated myself about the condition the best I could but all of the information out there was for young boys (or for parents of young boys). That didn't really matter though because whenever I tried to tell my parents about my experiences, they would always say things like "I'm not sure you're looking at this in the right way" or "well that's not what everyone else is saying".

I got put on medication and I pulled through my GCSEs myself to get good grades. I got extra time on my exams, which even though I didn't really use it, it felt like cheating. I barely used any resources, still don't really know why. Maybe I still haven't come to terms with this condition. I hate when people say that I should own it or accept it. If I had one wish, I would use it to be neurotypical.

I still don't share my experiences much or ask for accomodations. I have barely any friends because of my social fears. I lie, almost pathologicaly, to make people like me and to relate to people. I can't even make it through a conversation without second guessing myself. I distance myself before I can have proper friendships because I think 'they just pity me, they don't really want to hang out with me'. I don't do work and then I lie to my teachers and parents faces about doing it. I make up fake assignments to be doing so that my parents aren't angry with me for doing nothing even though they tell me I need to take breaks (they don't mean it). I pick my skin, especially my face, and leave scars. I constantly hate myself for every little slip up, every mistake. I can't stick to things no matter how hard I try, I can make it maybe a week and then I forget and never do it again. I feel like a failure everytime this happens. I get so wrapped up in stupid stuff that I forget to eat or drink and then have headaches, feel sick and feel dizzy when I stand. My mood changes quickly and I am easily annoyed. And I hate it.

The constant dismissing of my needs and experiences by the people around me and by the media and other places of information means that I have a hard time voicing any need or asking for help. I feel like a burden on others because of my experiences. This is why we need to research more and provide more help and resources that are written by ADHD people for ADHD people. We don't detect it in young girls until it destroys their self worth and sometimes even their lives. Adhd would be easier to live with if people understood it more. If I had been diagnosed way back then, I would probably be an entirely different person now.

Sorry about this, I just had to say it somewhere. Also please don't worry about me, I am working on myself and making progress.

Okay a lot more ppl here have or have suspected ADHD on here than I thought.

And ADHD is hella misrepresented in media and just in the general public conciseness. So here' s some ADHD MEMES if ur struggling and need to hear your not alone, from someone who also has it ❤️❤️❤️

Love you guys. You are very strong.

[starsfadingbutilingeron]

i tell you what i cannot overstate how much. i fucking hate extreme couponers. if you’re an extreme couponer fuck you.

[rengoku-loves-you]

This is such a weird request, but can you do the reader doing a break up prank on our sun, kyo? (Weird ik I just kinda wanna see how it goes XD)

(hi hun! don't worry about weird requests, this made me laugh when i read it! though it probably doesn’t show... i probably made it a bit more emotional and angsty than you were hoping, i’m sorry about that ^^; it hurt my little kyo-loving heart to make him sad tho, i almost couldn't bear it but that was the way it flowed :'D thank you so much for your request! ❤️️)

kyojuro x reader (in which you make up a break-up)

warnings: miscommunication, prank (accidentally) gone too far, angst?

"i think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."

kyojuro freezes. he'd been in the middle of cleaning his sword, wiping away the remains of the demon he had slain during his last mission, when you dropped that bomb on him. you don't even have the decency to look at him, sitting across from him with your eyes closed and your legs crossed like his. practicing your breathing, supposedly.

"what do you mean by that?" he asks slowly, very sure he's heard you wrong. his hearing has always been a little faulty ever since that one disastrous mission. "you're my successor! we could hardly not see each other anymore, your training is nowhere near complete. unless one of us goes blind!" he smiles, and you blink open your eyes. you don't look as amused as he hoped you would.

"i mean we should break up," you say bluntly, and that. that slaps the tentative smile right off his face. for a long moment, it's silent.

"ah," he says, quiet. his gaze flicks away, down to his sword, and he mindlessly starts cleaning it again before his hands start to shake. he forces his lips upward again, ignoring how they tremble. "i... if that's what you truly want, i understand! i will not pressure you to change your mind! you know what you desire better than anyone!" and he doesn't say any more, scrubbing the rag over the blade over and over and over again.

"okay," you say shortly. "thank you for understanding, rengoku." he gives a single nod, and you close your eyes again. rengoku. you only called him that when he was in trouble. otherwise, it was always kyojuro or even kyo.

it stings.

it stings a lot, even more than the bite the demon had taken out of his leg during the mission. in fact, his heart hurts so bad that he doesn't even notice when his eyes start to sting as well until tears are dripping onto his sword, smearing when he tries to rub them away.

"i'm just," you start to say, and then you inhale sharply, cutting yourself off. he doesn't hear what you say next, because he sobs at the sound of your voice, and his sword falls to the ground in his haste to scrub away the shameful, selfish tears. when he feels your hands on his shoulders, he jerks away.

“i’m fine, i’m okay!” he insists loudly, dodging your touch again when your fingers brush his cheek. he’s trying so hard to keep the smile on his face that it only makes his eyes water more. “i’ll stop in a moment, i apologize for this!” his voice wobbles, and he roughly scrubs at his face for it, trying to tamp the emotions down. he isn’t even entirely sure why he’s crying like this. you’re still his successor, and you’re not so cruel as to treat him coldly even after you break up. he knows you’ll still be friends at the very least. it’s not as if you’ll really never see each other again.

but you were his first, the only one he dared to let in so deep into his heart even though he knows the risks, because he believed in you and your ability to stay alive. he believed you would succeed in becoming a pillar, flame or otherwise, and just like a moth to a flame that spark inside you drew him in. you were natural friends, slipping into dating territory without either of you having to ask.

(”dating” being a relative term, of course. neither of you have much time to indulge in silly, normal dates, so you steal kisses, stay for dinner, and spend the night when you can.)

he feels like a child again, freshly abandoned, scorched inside with grief and burned outside from the flames he recklessly practices with. only this time, the external burns are your fleeting touches as you try to calm him down, saying words his ears refuse to let him process.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he persists, hoarse now that he’s nearly cried out, and you fall quiet. his entire face feels hot, a mixture of his aggressive rubbing, the usual post-breakdown flush, and shame. you’ve given up on helping, standing worriedly at his side with your hands wringing. you watch him take shuddering breaths, somehow still with that damned grin on his face that looks nothing but painful. 

“i apologize,” kyojuro begins, because he knows all his crying did was make you feel guilty and the last thing he wants is to make you feel responsible for him and his silly emotions.

“it was a joke,” you say weakly, and he blinks, water catching on his lashes as he gazes at the wall.

“what was that?” he asks, tugging the handkerchief from his breast pocket. you open your mouth, but then he blows his nose, loud and obnoxious, and you shut it again. you wait until he folds it back up, sniffing once, before he grips his knees with his eyes so wide that if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was waiting for someone to cut his head off. “i don’t think i heard you correctly. can you repeat that?”

“it was a joke,” you say again, lamely. “i-i didn’t expect you to take it so hard, especially not that fast. i thought you were gonna act all pouty and give me those sad eyes that you get whenever i don’t share my sweet potatoes with you. then i’d say i was kidding, and we’d kiss and laugh ‘cause we’re too perfect together for that to happen. it was supposed to be funny. i’m not that good at lying, kyo.” you kneel next to him, bowing your head. “i’m sorry.” even as the silence stretches, you don’t dare look up.

“well,” he rasps, and you jolt when you feel a warm hand fall on your head, “i suppose i’m just that terrible at understanding jokes!” when you dare to lift your eyes, he’s smiling at you. genuinely this time, small and still mildly tearstained. “there’s no need to apologize! i was the one who overreacted!”

“kyojuro,” you nearly whine, because he’s only making you feel worse. “it was a mean prank in the first place, don’t you dare start apologizing to me. i’m the one who should be apologizing.” he chuckles, his hand sliding to your upper arm and tugging gently, and you immediately lean into him. he wraps his arm around your shoulders, nose pressed to the top of your head, and you loop your arms around his waist.

“if you say so! i won’t argue with you!” he brings his other arm up, and then he’s practically shuffling into your lap, squeezing you tightly. you let him, even though he’s heavy and nowhere near acceptable lap-sitting size, because you can still feel him shaking and you know he needs the comfort.

“i really am sorry,” you mumble against his shoulder, fingers toying with his belt. “i’ve never seen you cry like that.”

“i’ll forgive you,” he says, “under one condition!” you don’t hesitate to nod. right now, you’d probably do anything he asked, if only to ease the massive pit of guilt in your stomach just a little. he pulls back, hands gripping your shoulders, and gives you another smile. more of a smirk, really. then he leans close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver.

“never, ever leave me,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear when he speaks. “otherwise...” you close your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm, but force yourself to keep still. he sighs, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, his hands slowly wandering down to your sides. “otherwise, i’ll cry. i’ll cry myself to death! then you’ll really be sorry!” his fingertips dig into your sides, and you gasp and jolt at the sharp, ticklish pain.

you really should’ve known.

“kyojuro!” you halfheartedly shove at his chest, and he falls back, laughing. his voice is still a little thick, and his eyes are raw and he’s still shaking like a leaf, but he leans in and kisses you anyway. that’s all the forgiveness you two need for now.

(he tastes like salt.)

[luxe-pauvre]

May I ask a follow-up question (different anon though) regarding the situation in the UK. There has been a lot going on politically, with the queen, inflation, brexit. Has that impacted you in any way (you do not need to go into specifics or personal of course, don't want to make you feel uncomfortable). But more in the general sense of you as a student, a young individual, someone who will enter the job market soon, is looking for a house. How is the overall feeling for the younger generation, have they been impacted by this all?

I myself am from Belgium, so you know, we have been impacted by inflation, gas prices, a terrible housing market etc.

I'll try and keep this brief and factual, but it may turn into a long and emotional rant.

I'm currently sat in my Mother and her husband's home as I’m visiting. They are a slightly above national average double income household. I'm wearing two blankets because turning the heating on is out of the question. Thanks to the latest government actions that rocketed mortgage rates in the past week, as it stands they will lose their home in the next six months and will have to move to a mobile home park.

In my single person full time PhD student with a part time job household, my monthly food bill has gone up by 50% and my monthly electricity bill has gone up by 133%. My PhD stipend will not increase as I'm funded by a charity and they've told their students an increase is not possible. Luckily, at the beginning of the year I changed part time jobs and had a fairly substantial pay rise. This pay rise has been totally swallowed by all of the cost increases which is disappointing, the possibility of saving part of it is probably gone, but if it doesn't get any worse I can suck it up without much change to my lifestyle.

Looking ahead, I'm seriously considering totally changing career track at the end of my PhD and cashing in my three Russell Group degrees for a consultancy/analyst type job that will make me deeply unhappy, but at least I'll be financially well.

I laughed out loud when I read 'looking for a house' as the chance of me ever owning a home is very close to zero unless, 1. I completely change career track, and 2. my Father, who owns a property he won't lose in this mess, first of all doesn't change his will to leave it to his soon-to-be wife (who will definitely outlive me) and then dies a sudden and unexpected early death (he will also likely outlive me otherwise). If both of those things happened, potentially the combination of a larger income from a different career and the sale of an inherited property might make it an option. I had a rather depressing conversation at work a few weeks ago in which we all agreed our only remote hope of property ownership is the untimely death of our parents which is incredibly morbid, and that only applies to those whose parents do own property.

Bizarrely in all this, the Queen dying was a two week reprieve. Apart from all the transport chaos in the city, which was a bit of a nightmare for those of us who live there, at least the government were "in mourning" and so they couldn't make anything worse.

As to how all this feels for the younger generations, I think the overarching feeling is that we're trapped. The illusion that if you ‘do the right thing’ or if you just ‘work hard’ things will get better is utterly smashed. Brexit now makes leaving the country entirely much more difficult, and if you're like me and you have chronic health conditions you're also somewhat tied to the NHS (which itself is only just about functioning), and so even if you could meet a particular countries immigration terms ensuring proper access to healthcare becomes a big factor/issue. The tide does finally seem to be turning politically, and maybe we'll get a more socially responsible government at the next election, but even if we do they will have to spend their entire term tidying up this mess before they get a chance at any kind of progress.

Disclaimer: this was not meant to be a pity party answer, I'll be fine, there are people in much worse situations than me in the UK and especially world over. But that being said, it doesn't make any of what's happening here, one of the seven richest countries in the world, right or less emotionally salient to those experiencing it.

[nitewrighter]

Hi Nite :) Could use some cutesy Gency fluff rn. Have a quick short or interactions in mind?

I miss them... 🥺

Here's some pre-fall stuff from when Genji was still getting used to his limbs.

----

Genji's arms thudded against the limbs of the training dummy as Mercy stood tensely by with her tablet, observing and taking notes. The impact didn’t feel quite right--he could feel the reverberation of the metal at his organic stubs on impact. He was in a gray training jumpsuit--more of a wrestling singlet, really--that left his organic arms and legs exposed. 

“You don’t have to--” Mercy cut herself off at a particularly loud thump of one of Genji’s blows landing, “You don’t have to go too fast, it’s just about maintaining blood flow and muscle movement, and building up coordination.” 

Genji didn’t respond, mostly just glad he had something to hit now. He let Mercy’s commentary dull to a quiet buzz at the periphery of his consciousness as he fell into the movement of punching and kicking. He heard an audible sigh from Mercy, recognition that he wasn’t actually listening, and just let himself fall into the motions more and more. Not strong enough. Not fast enough. None of the blows hitting right. Get it better. Get it right. How could he avenge himself against the clan and Hanzo otherwise? How could he make them pay if he was just a stupid, pathetic, bloody little science experiment--? He moved to pivot into a devastating back hand strike when a sharp pain suddenly flared along his side and he seized up with a grunt.

“Genji?!” Mercy looked up sharply from her tablet and her eyes widened.

“Nngh--” Genji’s hands went to his side as she briskly walked over and stooped a bit to where his hands were.

“How bad is it?” said Mercy.

“I wouldn’t stop if it wasn’t bad,” Genji said through gritted teeth.

“May I?” Mercy said, her eyes flicking up to him.

Genji scoffed and glanced off, shoving the shoulder strap of his jumpsuit/singlet off and letting Mercy pull it down slightly to examine his ribs.

“No bruising to indicate internal bleeding--skin irritation near the prosthetic is well within normal range...” Mercy murmured, “Where specifically does it hurt?”

Genji pointed at the bottom of his ribs with his thumb with a grunt and Mercy felt at that point for a few moments.

“Is the pain still as sharp as it was when you were moving?” Mercy asked.

The question came so easily to her but Genji felt his ears burning

“...no,” he said a bit stiffly. 

Mercy gave a sigh of relief, “Just a muscle stitch then.” 

“A muscle--?!” Genji scoffed, “No--something has to be--I don’t get stopped by cramps!” 

“Maybe not with your old body, but---” Mercy caught herself.

“There’s--there’s stuff in me now, how do we know it’s not... stabbing?” said Genji.

“If you want, we can stop for the day and I can take a closer look,” said Mercy, tucking her tablet against herself.

A low growl of a scoff rumbled in Genji’s throat and he glanced off. He didn’t want that. He was glad to be standing again, he was glad to be moving again, he didn’t want his own paranoia about all the things jammed into him to leave him bound to an infirmary bed or examination table again.

“Or I could give you something mild for the pain--?” said Mercy

“No,” Genji nearly cut her off with his answer. He didn’t want his rage to be dulled. Didn’t want anything slowing him down.

Her brow crinkled and her mouth drew to a thin line, and he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her when she was making that face.

“Just---” Genji made a pushing gesture at her, “Give me space. I can handle it.”

“We still need to take it easy--” Mercy started.

‘If it’s just a stitch, I can handle it!” Genji snapped. He remembered Sojiro’s voice. Breathe through it. Breathe through it. He took a few deep steady breaths. “It’s fine,” he said, the pain dulling with his breaths, “I’m fine.”

Mercy backed up a bit and Genji re-centered himself to a ready position. He gave himself one more steadying breath before he threw himself back into punching and kicking again. The stitch was still burning in his side but he ignored it as best as he could, focusing on the breath, focusing on the impact of the punch, the recovery. But he had already begun to feel the creep of exhaustion with that last pause. No, he couldn’t be tired, not yet. Did all those hours looking like an idiot in horse stance until his entire lower body was on fire mean nothing? All those early mornings sprinting around Shimada Castle, racing after Hanzo with the cold damp on his skin and his breath fogging in front of him? All that conditioning, all that work, all of his time that the clan ate up for their own ends, Hanzo had taken it all away from him. And here he was struggling to work up to a fraction of what he was previously capable of. Keep at it, keep at it, let the rage power the limbs. But even rage could only take him so far. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears as he watched his own strikes get slower, sloppier, but still he kept pushing himself. 

“Genji--” Mercy’s voice was distant with the pounding of his own heart in his ears, and the strike of his limbs against the training dummy, “Maybe you should--” But he just kept going, just kept hitting, and she quieted down. She was making that face again. He could feel her making that face, and he kept striking.

Don’t pity me. Don’t you fucking dare pity me.

That burning stitch in his side was little more than an afterthought, but the limbs were slow, heavy. His lungs were burning and he was drenched in sweat. With his prosthetics he smelled like pennies. Smelled like blood.

Metal. Stupid. Useless.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, didn’t want to know how much time had passed, when he finally slumped forward, supporting himself on a training dummy that was just as damp with his own sweat.

“Just--breathe--pushing yourself too hard could make the healing process even slower,” Mercy warned. 

“I know what I can do!” Genji said through gritted teeth. He hated the metallic ring of his own voice now.

"I know it’s frustrating, but even with state of the art prosthetics, you can't expect to get back to your original speed that fast," said Mercy.

Genji let himself drop to his hands and knees, panting.

“You have no idea how frustrating it actually is,” he snarled, not looking up from the floor.

"Your body has lost a significant amount of its original mass... it's going to be a while before your stamina returns, too," she said quietly.

Genji kept panting. She stepped away from him briefly and he looked at his own hands on the floor. He clawed his fingers, both organic and prosthetic, across the mat in frustration.

“Here,” She stooped over and held a water bottle out to him. He glared at the water bottle.

“You’re still human and humans need water,” said Mercy flatly. 

His eyes flicked up to her face and he reached out and sullenly took it. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he drank from the bottle, trying to read her expression. There was exhaustion in her eyes, there always was, but there was something in the line of her mouth now, not quite that pitying pursing, her lips nearly parting like she had something to say, and yet at the same time didn’t. She settled down to a kneeling position beside him on the mat. 

“All these... things I say... I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings. I know you’re angry. I know you feel cooped up here and you want to get out there so you can get to work stopping the people who did this to you.”

Killing. Stopping’s just a side effect of killing, Genji thought but he said nothing still panting. 

“I want you to have your body working the way you want it to just as much,” Mercy went on, “But this isn’t something you just... power through to. You’re angry--I know you’re angry--but the more you fall into that anger, the more cortisol and adrenaline your brain pumps out--the more your body believes it’s trying to survive and shunts down numerous vital functions, rather than putting its energy towards repairing itself.”

Genji was still panting but hearing it put in such technical terms caught him off-guard. The body believes it’s trying to survive...

“Just...” Mercy sighed a little, “Have a little faith. Everyone here wants you at you at full capacity as quickly as possible just as much as you do. Even if we’re all...” she shrugged a little, “Annoying and preachy about it.”

Genji snorted at that before letting himself collapse onto his side and then roll onto his back, his chest still rising and falling with a shudder of exhaustion. Mercy pressed one hand against the mat, then lowered herself, laying down flat on the ground as well, staring at the ceiling.

“...why are you on the floor?” muttered Genji.

“Seemed like the right place to be,” Mercy mused, “...there are multiple times a day I wish I could curl up on the floor, and this seemed like a good chance.”

Genji snorted again. “You’re funny,” he said glancing over at her.

Mercy glanced over at him and smiled.

Genji sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “You want to know a really stupid thing that’s pissing me off about all this?’ 

“What?” said Mercy.

“It’s... hitting me that I really liked my body. I mean, I was hot before all this.”

Mercy snorted.

“I was!” Genji insisted.

“I know!” Mercy blurted out and then caught herself, “I mean--” she cleared her throat, “Yes, it’s very jarring to have your appearance suddenly changed without your consent.”

“...so you agree I was hot,” said Genji, a bit smugly.

Mercy scoffed.

“OKay--Sorry--I’m being obnoxious. What I’m saying is... there was so much about it I took for granted, even with all the training and the conditioning the Shimada clan put me through...” he sighed, “And it’s gone now.”

“Not gone, necessarily. It’s... different. It’s changed. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it your own,” said Mercy, “That doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful now.”

Genji paused, then gave her an ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look. 

“Okay, we can work our way up to that,” said Mercy with a slight eye roll, “Just.. in my line of work you see a lot of... nastiness... so you kind of have to look for the things that give you hope. And a lot of the time that can make you come off as...” she huffed, “Completely out of it to some people. Stupid. Ignorant.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” said Genji, “Preachy, sure, but stupid?”

“Just as much of a charmer as your dossier stated,” Mercy said flatly.

Genji huffed and a long pause passed between them on the floor. Genji took stock of the exhaustion in all of his limbs and lifted his prosthetic arm up toward the ceiling, examining it the way the light hit it. “...you think I’ll be able to do what I could do before?” 

“Do you want my honest opinion?” said Mercy.

The question-as-answer made Genji tense slightly and he propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at her. “Yes...?” he said slowly.

“I think you can be even more,” she said, not looking at him, staring up at the ceiling, “I just hope who that is, is someone you like.”

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

REMEMBER BACK WHEN WE GOT INVITED TO A MASQUERADE??? And we figured out the masquerade guests are definitely the sacrifice meant to summon their eldritch deity and that the party will probably be the location of the final ritual? ANYWAY WE’RE CRASHING THE PARTY, which means we need costumes.

The party is Alice in Wonderland themed; Sammy hasn’t read the book but got kin-assigned the March Hare by Joey, so naturally i’ve been doing nothing but drawing this loser in a dapper rabbit costume for an entire week

---

Anyway have a little smattering of out-of-context quotes from session 11

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] Sammy just has no magical powers. [Jack] YET. [Sammy] Yet. Correct. ...He doesn't want any. [GM] Half of him doesn't want any. [Sammy] That's... accurate, yeah. Half of him ALSO wants the OTHER half of him to stop having magical powers. [Jack] No Magical Girl transformation? [GM] *laughing* Is that what that is? [Jack] I'd watch a magical anime where the main character drugs themself and then becomes a weird... religious... madman! [Sammy] That does sound compelling! Maybe you should see if you can find a franchise that contains that element, and then become a big fan of it and draw a bunch of fanart for some reason. [Jack] Yeah, I dunno, I mean... it's so tiring getting into new media, I need to get a friend who will drag me into it. [Henry] And then you guys can start a roleplaying game with it and drag me into it! [GM] There's an idea! [Jack] Yeah! Someone should get on that! [GM] And if there was such a theoretical game... people might have to figure... what they're doing when they wake up!

[Sammy] We were put in a situation before where we were told that the only thing we could do was kill the host, but we found a way around it last time, [Peter] What way was that? [Sammy] Complicated.

[GM] Henry is the first to notice the apparent cultist, camping out, looking tired, trying to spot you guys. [Henry] Uh, Henry is just going to tap Sammy on the arm and point him out. [Jack] Bros! You've got to unionise! Look at these working conditions! [GM] Maybe one of these days you won't spot them, right? Hope springs eternal!

[GM] Okay, you can make an intimidate! [Sammy] Okay! *rolls* FIFTEEN IS -- this is the only thing Sammy's good at now -- fifteen is a hard success!

[Jack] I'm proud of him! [Sammy] Someone has to be.

[GM] Allison chats with everyone, and gets you into the costume room! Everyone seems relatively friendly! [Sammy] Except Sammy. Sammy doesn't seem friendly.

[Joey] My idea was, Joey would be Mad Hatter -- [Sammy] Because he needs a hat, [Joey] --Yeah, so he can have a hat -- I was thinking Sammy could be the March Hare, Jack could be White Rabbit, and then Henry could be the Dormouse, [Sammy] Yes! And then the Haiti boys are all the Mad Teaparty, which is great, because the Mad Teaparty is canonically trapped in a time loop. [Sammy] Because we tHOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO MUCH,

[Jack] Kin-assign Pete! [GM] He's content to wear anything that looks like it fits him, as long as people aren't trying to push a co-ordinated effort. [Joey] (Pete can be Caterpillar,) [Jack] Catter-pete-lar [Sammy] Oh my goodness. Completely unnecessary. [Jack] This is a pun that Jack might make, out loud, to Pete [GM] Pete laughs, despite himself! [Sammy] I feel like, Jack would make this pun, and then Jack would be SO pleased with himself that Pete would laugh, because Jack was so happy about it. [Jack] Yeah that sounds canon. ....It IS canon!!

[Jack] You can like, actually pretend to be people who decided to come to this party to enjoy it, and not just steal and/or murder!

[Henry] I want someone on the help, because I feel like we would have more control if we had someone on the inside, [Henry] And Henry does have a very forgettable face, apparently!!

[Joey] What are the staff wearing? Target red shirt, khaki pants? [Sammy] Perfect! Everyone will fall for it! Based on my experience wearing red shirts into Target!

[GM] I guess this does mean Joey misses an opportunity to dress up Henry. [Joey] *excited gasp* Wait, wait, [GM] What? [Joey] Sorry, this has nothing to do with anything that's happening right now in the roleplay, but I just suddenly realised that (1) when Henry got married, was Joey his best man, and (2) did Joey get to pick out his tuxedo for him [Henry] UHHHH... I feel like, Henry usually defaults to Joey for outfits and stuff, but he would hesitate a bit to ask his best friend who has an obvious crush on him to help dress for his heteronormative wedding!

[Joey] There probably is at least one of the wedding photos where Joey is insistent on standing very next to Henry -- while Henry's next to Linda! -- but, [GM] ...but also, Joey is here, [Joey] But also Joey is here. [Sammy] ...absolute disaster of a man... [GM] But the tuxedos look good! [Joey] Yes. Henry was properly fitted.

[Sammy] I don't want a full-- I don't want a freakin' fursuit, because-- [Henry] (FNAF in the distance)

[Sammy] But I feel like, since both White Rabbit and March Hare are, like, dapper rabbits, they could do something like, yeah, splicer mask and also a hat. [Jack] I mean, Jack's not opposed; Jack likes hats. [Sammy] Jack absolutely should have a hat, I agree. [Jack] He's getting so many hats! So many hats, and so many boyfriends, [GM] He can't be stopped! [Jack] >:3c He shouldn't be stopped.

[GM] I'm still just stuck on the phrase "Dapper Rabbits."

[GM] If Joey and Allison are talking further away, I guess it's moot. Though Allison did see Prophet Sammy! He changed in her room. [Sammy] Well, nobody explained him to her. Sammy just showed up the next day and hoped that we wouldn't talk about it, and then we didn't! It was great. [Jack] Sammy's over here, hoping that Allison is distracted by Joey so that none of this conversation is being listened to, [Jack] MEANWHILE, smash cut to the other side of the room, where Joey is explaining SillySam,

[Joey] A lot of Joey's lack of giving information was to keep her out of it, and not paint a target on her back... but now? She has a target on her back, so... Sure! You can also sacrifice yourself, for the greater good!

[Sammy] I'm sure someone in this party will thank Allison. It won't be me. But I'm sure someone will.

[Henry] Henry's already smearing his blood on people, he's gonna agree to whatever at this point.

[Sammy] DEFINITELY not a cult, now hold still while we put this guy's weird glowing blood on you, it's fine. [Jack] Welcome to the flock!

[GM] What does this mean for Prophet Sammy's sacrificeability rating on Henry, though? Now he's potentially long-term useful... [Sammy] I mean... [Jack] The Prophet isn't here so he doesn't need to know about this! [Sammy] ...I feel like, if something has greater value, then it's an even more impressive sacrifice. That's why you sacrifice an unblemished sheep, traditionally. If it's not a blemish-- [Sammy] Like, that's most of what he was worried about, like, “does this make you not fit for sacrifice.” But if it's actually a really cool thing, ...!

[Sammy] Sammy's nervous. [Jack] Jack is also nervous. [Henry] Henry is also nervous! [Jack] Oh, that's always a good sign, [Joey] Joey's going to be confident! [Henry] ...Of course he is. [Joey] Someone has to be! [Jack]...is he "Confident" or "Confident (Fast Talk)"? [Joey] YES. That last one. [Sammy] *muttering* That's the best we got, unfortunately.

[Sammy] If Jack or Henry express nervousness, Sammy agrees with them. If Pete is nervous, then Sammy will very aggressively say that Joey knows what he's doing.

[Sammy] Allison, don't use a spell to bind people's souls together in order to avoid crunch,,, [GM] You never know when something might be handy! [Sammy] I mean, [GM] Waste not want not!

[Henry] Does Henry have to draw in blood on himself...? [GM] No, Henry has a lot of his own blood on his person.

[GM] Aw, man, Bendy should've commented on the rabbit outfits! I'm sure he'd find that hilarious. [Joey] ...why...? [GM] WHY? It's just objectively funny! No additional reason is needed!!

[Joey] Joey will go through his notes, and confer with Henry and Bendy on, okay, shall we try this, and see if we can help Bendy as well? [Henry] Henry is down to try! [GM] Bendy is worried about Henry overexerting himself. [Henry] ...Henry is down to try!

[Jack] Worst case, Jack looks at the symbol, and then he can be seeing-eye rabbit for the rest of the group!

[GM] Norman wonders what the plan is! [Henry] Bold of you to assume,

[Sammy] We're having such a good sleepover! We did a weird blood ritual, and we're braiding each other's hair~ [Joey] Having a fashion show, [Sammy] Yeah! We went out and got clothes, [Jack] Can't believe Joey called a boy, [Sammy] Gotta ask Joey about the boy he likes... wait, no, don't do that. [Jack] I'd say it's time to play seven minutes in heaven, but I think we, we did that early. [Sammy] WE DIDN'T DO A VERY GOOD JOB,

[GM] Norman wants to see how this plays out. [Joey] Okay, well, try not to get sacrificed, then, [GM] He laughs, and thanks you for the advice! [Sammy] *Hypnos Hadesgame voice* "Try not to get sacrificed, okay?"

[Henry] Allison is very helpful, and not weird at all!

[Joey] We already have the banjo case full of ritual circles, and Joey would rather have the emergency circles than Sammy carrying around bOTTLES OF INK. [Sammy] WHY, WHY WOULDN'T YOU WANT THAT TO BE HAPPENING? WHAT WOULD BE THE PROBLEM WITH THAT,

[GM] Make a sanity check! [Jack] Wait, what's happening? [Sammy] Joey was trying to think too hard.

[GM] Sammy does manage to catch that there's a little-- next to the kitchen, when you go into the place where they're serving food, there's a sign that says "Sheep Shop" over it. And there's a person wearing a sheep mask, handing out food. [Sammy] OKAY, THAT'S FINE,,, I don't feel like Sammy has actually read Through The Looking Glass, so I don't know if he knows why this is happening. I think he's just concerned. [GM] Excellent. Ideal response.

[GM] And Joey has NEVER seen the symbol EVER because he's incredible at not looking at creepy symbols! Which you wouldn't expect. [Sammy] I'm sure Joey will put this in his autobiography.

[Jack] :/ No Hashtag Gay Rights at this party,

[GM] Seems to be another party-goer; in fact, you recognise the voice! [Joey] Ohhh. Kyle -- I don't know his actual name, but -- [Sammy] (Dennis!) [GM] (Yes, that's-) [Joey] -- Kyle.

[Henry] Henry is going to try to sneak up on Moonlight while he's distracted! [GM] OH! ...Okay! He's very distracted, Sammy just screamed! [excited noises from everyone beCAUSE NO ONE EXPECTED THIS] [GM] You successfully sneak up behind him! [Henry] I'm going to grab the staff! [GM] Make a Brawl check, with advantage! [Sammy] (He has SO many limbs that don't work my dude, you got this,) [Henry] That's a success! [GM] You snatch it! [Henry] I RUN!!!

[Joey] We're just both escorting Jack, now. [Sammy] Would you say Jack is late, for a very important date? [Jack] Well YEAH, his Face Removal was scheduled like 2 dreams ago!!

[GM] He'd have to roll for it, to see if it felt familiar to his trip to Carcosa. [Jack] Extreme success! [GM] Then he would pick up that familiar feeling! [Jack] Oh, nice and homey at this party! Really nice. Nostalgic! It's been a while. [Sammy] Hm, [Jack] Maybe he should go play the piano, for old time's sake! [Sammy] NO

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[stanknotstark]

Struck Through The Heart (You Give Love A Good Name) (Thor x Reader)

So the video from this post is what inspired this entire fic. The only thing i had planned was the fifth gif and last gif, everything else was just kind of played by ear 😅 with that being said, i’m sorry if the flow is off because i didn’t write this in order!!! This is also my first time writing Thor so cut me some slack 😂 I beta read this but I usually miss a lot so i apologize in advance!

Summary: 6 times Thor reacted with lightning and in between maybe he fell in love with you too.

1. 

The first time Thor reacts with his powers you’re struck with awe. 

The sky is a deep red color because of some chemical the Red Skull released. Jane Foster had been there helping fight off the chemicals that threatened to spread to a nearby city. Luckily, she was able to create a antidote that cancels out the chemical’s reaction with the supplies Shield had given her but the place she had vacated was taken over by the chemical. She didn’t have time to get out but forced herself to work through the hazardous conditions. 

When she completed the antidote Thor landed nearby, unaffected by the chemicals, only to watch Jane pass out with a hand outstretched with the vial.  

Across the battlefield you heard Thor’s roar of anger and then a loud rumble of thunder rolled across the battlefield` before there was a flash of lightning cutting through the red sky. He just so happened to strike the Red Skull and it stunned him enough to be taken over by Steve. 

Thor is quick to put the vial in the machine Jane had brought and releases the antidote into the sky. The red slowly begins clearing out of the sky bringing a sense of normalcy back to the battlefield. 

You make your way to Steve to make sure the Red Skull is contained before you rushed to Thor’s side. 

You had feelings for the god but you can’t make your feelings known. Thor is vulnerable after the break up with Jane and it would be wrong to take advantage of him in such a state. 

You rest a hand on Thor’s hunched shoulder as he holds an unconscious Jane in his arms. He moves to the side so you may kneel next to Jane. You quickly reach two fingers to her pulse and find that her heart beats steadily. With her releasing the antidote and standing right next to the machine she must hvae saved her life by mere seconds.

“Is she ok?” Thor asks, his voice trembling a bit. 

“She’s ok for now,” You tell the blond man who looks at you with a broken face. You can’t say she is for sure simply because you don’t know the long term effects of the chemical. “I’ll make sure she’ll be ok, big guy, don’t worry.” You promise Thor. You relax when he nods and gains his confidence back. 

You hold your hand out for the antidote Thor carries. He quickly hands it over and you study it with your magic. When you’ve got the components separated your magic pulls from the antidote and your healing powers accept it as a new chemical you may use. 

You hand the vial back to Thor. “I’ll heal everyone on the battlefield, I need you to get this vial back to Fury. Do not let anyone else have it. To fury, you understand?” You ask Thor with a slight frown. When Thor gives you a nod you nod as well. 

You turn and hold your hand to Jane’s chest, your golden magic pours out of your hand and enters her chest, which glows as the antidote works through her blood system. Jane will be fine, she’s a fighter.

“Thank you, I am in your debt.” Thor says before he stands and lifts into the sky so he may deliver the antidote to Fury in the helicarrier not too far from this location. 

Jane comes to a few minutes later when the medical team is loading her onto a gurney so she may be checked over by Shield scientist and doctors. You’re there when she opens her eyes and give her a small smile. 

“Hey, hot shot, had us scared there for a second.” You say in a light tone. 

Jane brings a hand to her head and looks around confused. 

“We’re still on the field but we’re loading you up to take you back to the helicarrier.” You explain to her. 

She grunts and waves the arm of a EMT away when he tries to shine a flashlight into her eyes. 

“I’m fine, leave me alone.” She snaps out which makes you chuckle. You laugh catches her attention and she looks at you with a frown. “Thor isn’t over me is he?” 

The question catches you off guard. “What?” You get out in a rush before you think of what to properly reply. 

“You like him and he isn’t over me so he doesn’t see it.” Jane explains with a sigh and shakes her head. “That idiot.”

You bite your lip as you look down at Jane. You squint at her. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Jane’s face becomes bewildered. “Not at all. We never would have worked out, he’s too...Thor-ish. I’m a scientist-”

“And certified nerd to the point where she gets turned on if you understand the science behind anything in space.” You hear Darcy pipe in as she comes to Jane’s side in a rush, her hands grip the handles on the gurney and she gives Jane a concerned frown. “By the way, you’re not allowed on the field anymore, for some reason you always sacrifice yourself and it’s not good on my heart to watch that repeatedly. You need to stay in the lab.” Darcy chides Jane who scoffs and rolls her eyes. 

Jane and Darcy look at you and in unison say. “Ask Thor out.” 

You sputter, your cheeks heating up. You look around to see if anyone is listening to your conversation. Luckily, the only people close enough to hear are the EMTs but they don’t give any clues that they’re interested in your conversation.

“I can’t he’s still vulnerable from the break up, that would count as taking advantage of him.” You explain to the women with the point of a finger at Jane. 

Jane is the first to respond. “I suggest making subtle moves. He’s too oblivious to notice them but the team will and in turn may talk to him or help encourage the relationship?” Jane offers, completely ignoring what you said.

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Just ask him. I’m sure he can get his head out of his ass for a second to say yes.” 

You laugh when Jane hits Darcy on the arm. “Honestly, do you not have a romantic bone in your body?” 

“Nobody has romantic bones because those don’t exist, dumbo!” 

You stand there shaking your head with a small smile on your lips as the EMTs rolls Jane into a quinjet and Darcy follows. Both women give you a small wave and smile before they’re out of sight. 

2. 

The next time Thor reacts with lightning it’s because you ask him to. 

You’re standing on the roof of the Avenger’s tower with Thor by your side. You have a camera set up on a tripod that faces the night sky above your lightning rod.

“Ok, I need you to strike that lightning rod.” You explain to Thor who looks at your personally built rod with appreciation. 

“You built this by yourself?” He asks you as you fiddle with the camera. He walks over and touches the lightning rod with appreciation. He’s quick to come back to your side though. You smirk at him. “I might have had a little help from Tony but most was made by me.” 

Thor hums with a bright smile. “Not only are you a capable warrior but you’re intelligent as well. I love that in women.” You feel frozen at his compliment and look at the camera with wide eyes. 

You clear your throat and give a tight smile. Thor lets out a bubbly laugh and slaps a hand on your shoulder. “Relax. Mild flirting will not kill you.” 

You huff. “When it’s from a gorgeous god it just might, Thor.” You gain your confidence back. 

“Ok, the camera is ready.” You state as you turn on the time lapse feature. Thor grabs your arm and pulls you to a safe distance and stands with half his body protecting yours behind him. You take advantage of the moment and slide up to Thor’s back and peak out from the side to watch the lightning rod. Your hands grip his t-shirt with excitement and you’re momentarily distracted by Thor being rock solid under your grip. 

You stand there and nothing happens. You peak around at Thor’s face which is red with exertion. 

“Uh...”

Thor lets out a deep breath. “I’m sorry it has always been hard to do this on command.” He apologizes in a soft tone. 

“Ah, performance issues-” You start but Thor is snorting and then lightning is flashing across the sky and striking your lightning rod. It’s so loud you actually screech, jump, and hide behind Thor. Thor takes it upon himself to look sheepish when you come out from behind him with a glare. 

“You were supposed to warn me!” You yell as you walk to your camera all huffy. You go to touch your camera but hesitate. You look at Thor and motion for him to come to you. He does as he boisterously laughs. You roll your eyes and touch his hand. A static shock goes off at your touch. That’s when you know it’s ok to touch the camera. 

Thor laughs at your trembling voice. “I’m very sorry, my lady.” He apologizes but it doesn’t sound sincere with how much he laughs while saying it. 

You roll your eyes again and focus on your camera, going through the different pictures and films to find your newest capture. Thor comes to stand right behind you, his hands on your shoulders and his chin resting on your shoulder. You almost forget to breathe as you take in his scent. You smell something like tea tree oil that Thor probably uses in his beard. 

You find the lightning time lapse and watch the video with awe. The lighting you captured flows down, ripples out in slow waves. It strikes more than once, each time stretching its strike out in web-like patterns. It’s bright blue and magnificent to see in slow motion. 

Thor lets out a satisfied sound. “I’ve never considered that my lightning could be beautiful.” He whispers as he watches the loop of the lightning play on your camera. 

A moment of idiocy strikes you. “You’re beautiful.” Your lips tumble out before you can think to stop it. 

You feel the chuckle Thor lets out rumble through his chest. His hands drop from your shoulders to your waist where his fingers knead into your sensitive skin. You have to swallow so you can force yourself to breathe properly. 

“Is that so?” Thor asks in a deep voice that fans out across your neck.

You got yourself in this situation so you’ll get yourself out. “I mean, I guess it comes with being a god and all. However, that doesn’t mean i forgive you for nearly burning down the tower while making poptarts.” You babble out, trying your best to diffuse this charged situation.

Thor lets go of your waist and backs up while he laughs. You throw a smile over your shoulder at him as your disassemble your camera and tripod. 

“You will never let me forget that will you?” 

“Never.”

3.

This time Thor lets out lightning because of frustration. 

You’re crowded in a van with Natasha, Tony, Clint, and Thor who all bicker over each other. It’s Thor’s turn to drive and Clint is the navigator on this sporadic road trip Tony suggested for team bonding. Steve and Bruce had other duties to attend, or at least that’s what they told Tony, they’re probably catching up on Star Wars or something. 

“I do not think we were supposed to turn down that road.” Thor tells Clint over Natasha and Tony who bicker about something you couldn’t care less about. Natasha is on your right and Tony on your left so you’re stuck in the middle of their argument.

You feel a snicker slip past your lips when Tony makes a particular barb about Natasha. Mostly, you pay attention to Clint and Thor.

“Look, I can read maps, Thor. To get to the falls we had to take this road!” Clint argues with Thor.

Thor huffs. “Barton, we are heading in the opposite direction of the falls! The internet said they lay north-east. We are heading south-west!” Thor’s voice starts to pick up. 

You look between Clint and Thor with excitement. Tony mutters beside you, “This was a terrible idea.”

“It was a fine idea, Anthony,” Thor says from the front seat, his good hearing shocking you. “It is merely ruined by Barton who cannot read maps!” 

Barton throws his hands up, the map on his lap wobbling dangerously with a loud noise kind of like wobbling cellophane. “I can read maps just fine!” 

Tony and Natasha go quiet making the whole car silent with suffocating tension. 

You just happen to look down at the map in Clint’s lap and swallow. “Clint...” You start. Clint looks back at you with a frown. “Clint, the map is upside down.”

There’s silence.

You jump when the already gray clouds in the sky flash with bright light and a strike of lightning hits the Earth when Thor roars and stops the van. It’s beautiful, the lighting splits into three main strikes that spread to cover the entire sky. The sound of it nearly drowns out Thor’s roar which is saying something.

Things go silent again. 

Tony breaks it this time. He lets out a laugh but tries to cover it up with coughing. In turn, you can’t fight your own giggles and Natasha follows with a low chuckle. 

Clint blushes furiously as he turns the map around and clears his throat. Thor watches him with a dangerous glare.

“Thor, buddy, you’re going the wrong way.” Clint says in between chuckles.

Thor is quick to get out of the car, slamming the door with barely controlled strength. He opens the door where Tony sits and points at the driver’s seat. “I will not drive with Clint reading the map.” 

Tony laughs but gets out and takes the driver’s seat. When Thor sits next to you, closing the door and buckling in you bump his shoulder with yours. “You good?” You ask him. 

Thor smiles at you which helps you relax a bit. At least he wasn’t seriously upset. “Better, now that you’re my companion.” He mutters out. 

“Awe, I feel so special!” You coo at him. He rolls his eyes but takes your hand into his. 

You intertwine your fingers with his and rest your hands on your lap. Neither of you utter a word about it, just treat it like your hands are invisible. You catch Natasha giving a shocked look at your hands but she keeps her lips shut as well. 

Clint coughs embarrassed and everyone looks at him with a look that says, be careful what you say next. 

“I have to use the bathroom.” He says in a small voice.

Everyone groans.

4. 

Whatever is happening between you and Thor is avoided, talking wise. You’re both affectionate physically and you’re sure the team considers you two to be dating but you and Thor have yet to have conversation about it. 

You think that perhaps it’s for the best. If things aren’t labeled you’re less likely to be as hurt when Thor rejects you. 

That’s the thing though. You were able to leave things unlabeled because while you’re both affectionate you’ve yet to kiss.

Yes, Thor lets you cuddle into him on movie nights. When you cook for the team he will always come up behind you and hug you while watching you cook for a bit. He’s kissed your cheek as a way of saying goodbye. But, his lips have never strayed to your own lips. 

At this point you’re desperate to feel his lips on your own but you’re also hesitant because that would mean having to label what you have. You don’t mind calling Thor your boyfriend, it’s the fact that you don’t know if Thor would call you his girlfriend that truly scares you. 

You’re at Avenger’s Compound when it finally happens. You share the sparring room with Thor. The wall is all window to the left of you, the right side is a wall of foam mats. 

Thor rushes forwards and you just barely move in time to half block his blow and swing around him so you may kick a foot into his back and force him to put space between the both of you. He has been trying to pin you and you know that will lead to kissing so you’ve been avoiding it by keeping space between the both of you. 

Thor turns to look at you with a frown, probably catching on to what you’re doing. He rushes forwards again, this time feigning right before he goes to the left and pins you to the mats and the floor with deftness. As he straddles your hips and pins your hands to the floor he brings his smirking face close to yours. 

You struggle in his hold which brings the frown back to his face.

“You do not want me to kiss you.” Thor states in a hurt voice.

You stop struggling and look at Thor with a desperate look. “I do, I want to so bad,” You whisper, hoping to take that look of hurt off his face because it makes your own heart hurt. “I just-” You huff and look away from Thor’s curious eyes and out the windows of the compound. “If we kiss things will become official.” You finish lamely. 

Thor is silent above you, he moves so that he sits up on his knees that straddle your hips instead of leaning over your body. He lets go of one of your hands to grip your chin and make you look at him. When you look into his eyes you see uncertainty. “You do not wish to be with me?” Thor’s voice is small.

Your eyes widen and you stutter your response. “N-no that’s not what I meant at all! Thor, god-” You let out a hesitant laugh. “No, I’m scared you don’t want to be with me.”

There, it’s out in the open you think. You feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. 

Thor still frowns down at you though. “Have I treated you in a way that suggests I do not want to be with you?” 

You smile at Thor lovingly. “No. Never. It’s my own insecurity that made this problem.” You explain, your free hand coming to cup Thor’s face. “You’ve been perfect for me.”

Thor’s lips twitch up. “I would very much like to call you my lover instead of friend. Is that alright with you?” Thor asks you, as if you’d ever think of refusing.

“Lover,” You mutter out, the word new on your lips. You smile. “I’d like that.”

Thor’s face turns bright with a smile before he’s leaning down again. His hand on your chin moves to cup your jaw, your own hand sliding from his jaw to his blond hair where it tangles in his locks. He stops right before taking your lips. You’re so desperate to taste them that you whimper, causing Thor to smirk down at you.

“Do you forgive me for the Poptart incident?”

You really don’t expect that question at all so you look at Thor like he has three heads. “Thor you burned my favorite shirt!” 

Thor chuckles and starts to move back.

“Ok! Yes, I forgive you, god!” You kick your legs in defiance. 

Thor smiles but then he’s kissing you and you can’t even think anymore. This time you hear the rolling thunder and strike of lightning but can’t really say you regret not seeing it.

His lips move with yours like they were made for each other, like he’s your missing puzzle piece. His beard scratches at your skin but you couldn’t care less about the inevitable beard burn when Thor’s lips are working yours open with ease. He slides his tongue over your bottom lip for consent. You open your mouth for him and he attacks you with his tongue. He’s dominant and stakes his claim through his kiss. His tongue explores every crevice in your mouth. He only pulls away when you pull on his hair in a desperate need for air. 

You both pant into each other’s faces, cheeks flushed. 

Thor is the first to break the silence. 

“You taste exquisite.” He mutters, licking his lips as if trying to taste you again. 

You let out a chuckle. “I’d tell you you do too but I think I need another kiss, just to be sure.” 

Thor smiles as he leans in again for another kiss. “As. The. Lady. Requests.” He punctuates in between kissing you. 

5.

You’re spitting out dirt from your mouth and your dazed eyes look around from the ground. You lay in the middle of fallen debris, plumes of dust and dirt flowing from the building that had collapsed next to you. Something heavy rests on your chest and when you look down you see a bomb strapped to your chest, counting down. Your wits come back to you like a punch to the jaw.

You had been fighting rebels of the Avengers. They had set up a, now obvious, trap with a civilian and you were the only one close enough to help. When you reached the civilian someone had knocked you out. 

You bring a hand to your com and open the line to your teammates. “Guys, I have a bomb strapped to my chest that has less than seven minutes.” You spit in a rush of words filled with frayed nerves. 

“Where are you?” Thor roars across the coms. 

You look around and give Thor your location. You know he is near because the clouds above you become thick and so dark they look black. 

He’s quick to land next to you and wraps you up in his arm before his hammer is pulling you both straight into the sky. You take shallow breaths as the wind whips through your hair and makes it harder to breathe properly with how fast you’re traveling. You look down and watch as the buildings become smaller. Then you break through the dark clouds and you’re gasping in astonishment. 

The black clouds are littered with lightning striking. Blue flashes ripple across the clouds below you. Thor is worried and his lightning is reacting appropriately. 

When you’re high enough Thor stops to rip the bomb from your chest then hurls it up into the sky with frenzied eyes. 

When you both start falling, your stomach jolts uncomfortably. You look up and watch as the bomb explodes. The clear sky is filled with flames and plumes of smoke in its aftermath of destruction.

You look at Thor when he takes your face into his hand. “Are you ok?” He asks over the rushing air as you both plummet down, back to Earth. You can’t find your voice so you nod your head. Thor gives a comforting smile and kisses your forehead. “Good.” He whispers into your ear before he’s using his hammer to fly you back to the dying fight. 

When you reach the ground you don’t have much time to consider you almost died. You busy yourself healing Shield agents and civilians littered across the small town the rebels had attacked. When the last rebel is caught and apprehended your job still isn’t done. 

You don’t even have time to speak with Thor again because he’s lifting heavy rubble to help trapped civilians with Tony. You stick to following them so you can heal anyone that was hurt in the collapsed buildings. 

It’s an exhausting few hours before the team is able to settle at an undamaged restaurant and sit there just breathing as you all wait for your celebratory meals. 

Thor sits so close to you he could practically be in your lap. You’re not going to complain because you’re realizing how close to death you were today. The only thing you can focus on is trying to not have a full on panic attack and Thor’s grounding weight as he switches between wrapping an arm around your shoulders or a hand resting on your thigh.

The team falls into multiple conversations when you’ve all caught your breath. Thor manages to see you don’t say much. 

“Are you ok?” He leans towards you to ask quietly. A concerned frown takes over his face. His concern deepens when you merely nod your head with a blank look. 

You watch him come to a decision and then he’s facing the team. “We are exhausted, could you perhaps get our meals to-go and bring them home for us later?” He asks Tony who nods. 

You stand with Thor, holding onto his hand tightly and nod your head at everyone in a silent goodbye. 

When you both reach outside Thor is quick to wrap his arm around your waist and lifts off with his hammer. You wrap your arms around him and hug him tight. 

When he lands you’re not at the tower. Instead, you’re standing on a clearing, surrounded by fir trees that overlook a cliff. You marvel at the beauty of the spot. 

Thor drops his hammer and hugs you with both of his arms now. “How are you? Do not lie.” 

You begin shaking in Thor’s arms. “I nearly died.” You get out in a wobbly voice.

Thor hugs you tighter. “I know.”

You try to let out a deep breath but it turns into a sob. You hide your face in Thor’s broad chest. His armor means it’s not nice and cozy but just having Thor there, holding you, helps to not make you completely fall apart. 

The exhaustion from the fight finally hits you like a freight train and your knees buckle. Thor drops to his knees with you. He makes shushing noises and brings a hand to hold your head to his chest, the other rubs soothing circles into your back. 

You let yourself cry but then you bottle it up and build yourself back up. When you can breathe without sobbing you pull away from Thor’s hold and wipe at your eyes. 

“I’m good, just got overwhelmed.” You let out a sad laugh. 

Thor sits back on his haunches and you follow. Little sniffles break the silence between the both of you. 

“I remember the first time I came near death,” Thor starts with a nostalgic smile. “I had been ignorant and dumb and only a mere few centuries old. I had told Loki I could face an adolescent bilgesnipe without my hammer and be victorious.” Thor laughs and shakes his head. “Loki tried to talk me out of it but I heeded him no mind, as was usual. I fought the beast and its horn penetrated my lung.”

You wince at that. 

“The only reason I survived is because Loki had been learning healing magic at the time and knew how to slow my bleeding down and prevented my lung from collapsing.” Thor looks at you with a distant look. “When I was released from the sick bay I broke down crying in my room. Loki found me in a mess of tears and snot as he helped change my dressings.”

Thor smiles at you. “Loki did not let me live it down for many years. Oh how the mighty Thor cried after defeat from a pubescent bilgesnipe.” Thor mimics his brother’s voice and shakes his head, making you giggle. He crawls to you and hugs you from the side. “I got payback in the form of karma when Loki screamed like a maiden at one of my pranks.” 

You lean into Thor’s hug and let your head rest on his shoulder. You let silence settle between you both and just enjoy how the cool evening air blows across your skin. The smell of fir trees is strong and there’s a hint of salt from the water that crashes at the bottom of the cliff you sit upon. 

Thor’s hand comes around and grabs your hand so he may hold it. When you peak up at him from your spot on his shoulder he smiles while staring at your hands. 

“Your hand is so small compared to mine.” Thor states. He flattens your hand and then puts his on top of it. You let out a little laugh when his hand practically engulfs yours. Thor then intertwines your fingers with his. “They are soft too, they do not have the callouses of a warrior yet I’m sure you’ve slain many a foe with these hands of yours.” Thor peaks down at you. You scrunch your nose up. 

“I take more pride in the fact that I’ve healed ten times more people than slain enemies.” 

Thor lets out a guffaw. “How about I take pride in enemies slain and you take pride in healing allies. We can be a team, would you enjoy that more?” 

You let your fingers caress Thor’s, your lips are split in a struck-silly smile. “Ya, we can be a team, what’s our team name?” You ask curious as you sit up so you can properly look at Thor. 

His eyes go wide, as if he didn’t expect to be given this choice, and he stumbles over his words. “W-well I, um, I suppose...the-the Revengers?” 

You sit there for a second just looking at Thor who smiles satisfyingly at his quick thinking. 

I love you. You can’t help but think. Now isn’t the time to say it though so you let a laugh bubble out from your lips and kiss the man instead. He is all too eager to have your lips on his once again. 

6.

It’s months later when you’re walking through Central Park to get to a dinner reservation Tony had set up for the team. The sky that’s normally filled with barely seen stars from light pollution is clouded over today making everything a little darker. 

You walk hand in hand with Thor, almost jogging to make sure you reach the place in time. You and Thor had gotten distracted by a tech store that was playing your favorite movie in the window as a way to show off their TVs. You had stopped when your favorite scene was playing. Thor had stopped because he was interested in anything that makes you happy. You had both stood outside the shop with wide eyes. When you gasped and pulled Thor’s hand to your mouth he responded by gasping too. “What has happened? Is she refusing his hand in marriage?” He asks in a hushed tone. 

You bite your lip and nod. 

“No! She cannot, they are practically soulmates!” He yells, his free hand coming up to wave in a way that said, are you stupid?

You laugh at how interested Thor is and when you turn to look at him you come back to Earth. 

“Thor.” You say, the god reluctantly takes his eyes off the TV to look at you curiously. “Thor, dinner reservation!” 

Thor frowns and looks from you to the TV, not quite ready to leave the movie. You laugh and tug on his hand so he’ll follow you. “We can watch it at home, I have the DVD. Come on, if we cut through Central Park we might make it in time.” 

So you both start walking briskly through the park. Thor is the first to let out an actual giggle. You throw a smile over your shoulder to your man. “What’s so funny?” 

“Who’s going to explain why we’re late?” Thor says, now laughing. It’s infectious and you start laughing too. 

“Well it was me that stopped but if I blame you nobody will even question it.” 

“Oh, so now we’re throwing each other under the bus, i understand your game now, you little minx.” 

You laugh harder and come to a stop. Thor comes to rest in front of you with a gorgeous smile on his lips. He cups your jaw and brings his face down so he may eskimo kiss your nose. The moment is full of wholesomeness and just overwhelms your heart. You can’t help it when the words slip from your lips.

“I love you.” You laugh out. You freeze and Thor who had been rubbing his nose on yours freezes too with wide eyes. 

You jump into his arms with a squeal when the sky lights up, as if there are firecrackers going off right above you. The lightning that strikes fans across the sky. There is more than one strike, each louder than the last. For a good few seconds Central Park is blazing with light from the sky, flashing like a rave. You look around with awe at the lightning storm Thor created. 

When the lightning stops you look at Thor who has tears welled up in his eyes as he looks down at you. He is quick to kiss you but pulls back to mutter, “Say it again.” Across your lips. 

You smile. “I love you, Thor.” 

Thor kisses you with a newfound hunger. His hands cradling your head and your own hands grasping the lapels of his leather jacket. He pulls away to take in a deep breath, his forehead resting on yours. When he opens his eyes you see them filled with love. 

“I love you too.” He whispers. 

Tagging: Tag list: @justfangirlthingies @biancablack2474 @creeping156tin @high-functioning-lokipath  @wintersschildrenn​ 

[forbiddensoul562]

Contagion

I could have sworn I’d published this, but I found it in my draft folder this morning... So... I apologize that it hasn’t gone through a rigorous editing process, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

Two years ago I sat on a train in Taiwan, headed from Taipei to a small, remote place called (I think) Wufeng. As I sat there, I thought about a post-apocalyptic zombie Meronia fic I’d read somewhere on here. It was very good, but I had no luck tracking it down again, and I thought that was a damn shame.

So, I pulled out my notebook and wrote a test first chapter of my own version during the whole two hour train ride. 

It’s not much, and might not have much substance to it. But I’d love to get anyone’s thoughts on it’s start.

Working Title: Contagion

The moment they appeared their existence made national news… The world screeched to a halt, all attention on these things. Humans… turned diseased, feral, or perhaps something else entirely. No one knew for sure where they came from. It was as though one moment the world continued spinning like normal, and in the next… these things began flooding the streets. The initial confusion of news analysts and reporters slowly began to turn to fear. It took only an hour before the first bite was reported... The victim turned, becoming one of the diseased. 

That was the moment public fear began to turn to panic, catching like wildfire.

As Near watched, from secluded inside his high tower, he was acutely aware that he was witnessing the turning point of human history.

By the second hour after the first report had hit the news, Near had decided that what he was witnessing was potentially the unravelling of human society. He was a detective… trained to solve the world’s mysteries. But this… There was no training for this, and even if he wanted to act, the pandemic was spreading far too fast.

By hour three Near found himself trying to name these things based on their condition – should he refer to them as the Sick, infected initially by some kind of widespread contagion? The news began to report them as simply ‘undead,’ and while Near understood that such a title effectively, and most simply communicated to the general populace what these things were doing, based on common knowledge from mass media, Near could only roll his eyes at how unoriginal and unfitting the term appeared to be.

At the tenth hour, local news agencies began going off the air as it was too dangerous to stay and try to report. It made sense, they had themselves and their own families to think about. It was in that moment that fear suddenly began to take the place of Near’s previously more pragmatic thoughts. A new, chilling terror of encroaching total isolation the outside world seeped into his bones.

It was then that he decided it best to make the one call of utmost importance in the dying world, before cell towers began to completely fall off the grid.

Rester handed Near the phone and the detective listened to the ringing tone as he pressed it to his ear, an unspoken panic brewing in his center and he couldn’t decide if it was premised in his worry for lines of communication, or something much more morbid. ‘Pick up,’ He mentally pleaded, desperately. ‘Come on, answer your phone…’ Of all the times to be ignored…

But then, as if by command, finally the other end of the phone ceased the repetitive tone, replaced instead with a simple, abrupt, “What?”

“Mello.” A heavy breath was released that Near hadn’t realized he was holding, momentary relief taking its place. “You’ve seen the news?”

[More beneath a ‘keep reading’, just in case Tumblr isn’t showing it...]

There was a brief pause from the other end, and Near felt his heartrate quicken in response. Time was just too precious for delays of any kind. Every second that crucial information wasn’t being conveyed was another second that Near felt his panic increase, worried that the call might drop and he might never get to say what he needed to.

“It’s starting to be chaos here, too.” Mello’s tone was somber, quieter as though speaking any louder would make the events all the more real.

“I see.” Near reached for a strand of hair, though the repetitive twirling sensation was proving to do little to calm his nerves, as it once had. This was just becoming too big of a catastrophe for his simple rituals to pacify his worry. “The world is ending, Mello.”

“Strangely dramatic of you.” The older successor muttered, but was quick to add, “You think I don’t know that?” There was an irritated edge to his tone, yet still Near couldn’t help cracking a small smile at Mello’s underhanded, and perhaps unconscious, implication that they both truly were not above dramatics. Though, perhaps he was reading too far into it, searching for a sliver of normality in a world that was quickly falling crumbling.

“No, of course you would already be aware.” After all, Mello was much more heavily involved in the world, or at least connected to it on a far more personal level than Near was. “No doubt the grid will be going down at some point. Maybe in a few minutes, maybe in a few hours, or days… So to that effect I wanted to contact you first over anyone else.” Near’s motions in his hair stopped, the white strand unravelling around his index finger. His vision and even his attention to the rest of the room seemed to blur as he focused entirely upon his connection to the only other person of importance Near had, in a world that was falling apart. “If things continue as they are, to the best of my ability I plan on attempting to create a safe zone within my tower. Right now it has the resources to survive here for at least a year, but I aim to build on those.”

When Mello said nothing in response, Near continued, rambling still, but this time more to the point, “What is happening right now is far greater than you or I, Mello, and on our own I do not think we will make it long. You lack the resources and I lack the physicality. But together, we-”

“Near, don’t, I’m not-”

“Mello, please.” He could hear the pleading in his words, “Just listen to me a moment.”

This time, the blonde remained quiet on the other end.

“If you can make it from your present location in California to here in New York… I would greatly benefit from whatever you have to offer to survival efforts. Neither of us will make it if we’re split up. This is not like anything else we have ever dealt with, and because of that I don’t think it makes sense to hold onto lingering animosity. Think of your survival.”

Near shook his head. Logic wouldn’t work with Mello… So he added quieter, “I need your help, Mello.”

There was a long silence between them, then, the words and residual antipathy culminating between them into that one moment of silence which seemed to hold all the necessary potential to be both of their ruin, not to mention all the others Near had every intention of trying to help. Everything hinged on this single moment… of being able to put aside disputes, and endless history for a greater good. It had never worked before. Yet this time, Near held his breath.

Finally, “I’ll do what I can.” The words were vague, but of course both successors understood the weight and challenge associated with attempting to travel from one side of the country to the direct opposite in the current collapsing state of things. But if Mello was as willing and able as his words alluded to, then Near was willing to hold his breath a little while longer.

Near nodded, “I look forward to your arrival, then.”

The detective was ready to end the call while he had Mello’s agreement and thus his own sense of hope, but of course Mello broke in before he could, “Yeah, you say that, but you’re not the one having to go out and deal with this shit. It’s a risk, Near. At this rate, who knows what the country will do in response...”

Near could read between the lines: Mello thought he might not make it.

But Near had to stay positive, even if he was feigning it for both of them, now. The thought of being alone to go going through what was shaping up to be the apocalypse was troublesome at best, and truly terrifying at worst. “Getting into and climbing the ranks of the Mafia was a risk, too.”

There was a short, curt chuckle from the other end of the line. “Yeah, well… we’ll see. I’ll try.” The younger successor didn’t like the tone latent in his voice. He didn’t like hearing Mello be anything other than his loud, over-the-top self that exuded confidence. But then, nothing was good about this situation or provided any reason for the blonde to hold onto his normal demeanor… Still, it was jarring and was almost worse than seeing the reports on the news.

But Near forced himself to nod, “Right, I’ll see you soon, then.”

Yet another pause on the other end, followed by a simple, “Yeah.”

In that moment Near found himself reluctant to cut their connection. There were so many things he wanted to say to the blonde successor… just in case this was their last time ever speaking. Years of harbored words flooded his mouth like bile, yet burning his throat with the knowledge that no matter how much he wanted to let it all spill out, Mello wouldn’t stand such talk. Not now. Maybe not ever. Though, perhaps it was better this way. He didn’t want to say anything that might prove a distraction to Mello’s journey across the country to get to him.

So he instead swallowed it all back down, promising himself that he would make time to pour out all of these words to Mello when the older successor made it to him.

He could only bring himself to whisper, “Good luck. Be safe. Please.” It was the closest thing to a prayer Near thought he could ever formulate. 

“You too, Near.” Mello said much quieter. “Don’t... let anything happen before I can make it there, alright?”

“I won’t.” He shook his head. “I’ll be here waiting.” With that, he pulled the phone away and hung up.

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.9)

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You wait outside the nurse's office beside Jay in complete silence. You were both waiting for someone to burst out the door in front of you to rest assure Jungwon's condition.

"You can go to class, I'll stay and wait for Jungwon." Jay broke the noiseless lounge as his eyes laid flat on the grim grey floor. You were willing to stick around but realized  it would be better if you were to just leave. Jungwon probably wouldn't want to see you after the minor argument. You simply nodded your head and left without another word.

When you had arrived in your astronomy class you carefully explained yourself, explaining Jay would be gone for most of the afternoon. Your teacher listened intently and understood every word well. Sitting in your usual spot, a wave of frustration washes over you once you remember Sunghoon had stolen your book for the class. You could only hope the new interesting concept of the class would jog your mind off of things to which it did. However, as the class came to a close you couldn't help birdwatch Jay's desk. Jay's absence for the entire class continued to make you worry about Jungwon and his condition.

Sending yourself out of the class in a daze, you began to join the trail of the halls. You met Nana and Dahee walking out of their class at the same time to your surprise, "Oh! Y/N!" With an abrupt slide to slow down you let the two girls catch up to you, "Sorry we couldn't eat lunch with you and Hyesun, we went to track tryouts." Nana gleefully explained.

"It's fine, I had detention for half of lunch and then got caught up in something..." Your head going straight back to Jungwon, "We should all be apologizing to Hyesun right now..." Immediately you got reminded about what Hyesun had mentioned to you earlier, "Hey, Dahee... I actually really need to speak to you about something in private." You asked shamelessly.

Nana looked at you both suspiciously but ultimately respected the privacy you desired, "I'll get going to my last class then, girls." She tapped both of your shoulders before joining the flowing current of the hallway.

You went with Dahee to a more private space, under one of the stairwells of the school. "Dahee, Hyesun told me about you and Sunghoon..." You trailed off, hoping you didn't have to say much more as to what you were about to say.

"So you do like him?" Dahee gasped happily to your surprise, "Don't worry I'm not that into him yet... But you should've told us a long time ago!" She nudged you gently in the elbow.

"Yeah! Sorry about that..." You lied with deep despise. You now had to act like you liked Sunghoon and that was the worst feeling ever, "I'll tell you about it later then, you should get going!" You cut the conversation very short so Dahee could both get to her class in time.

"I will! See you!" She waved in a much brighter mood now that you told her you supposedly liked someone for the first time forever.

"Dear Lord, what am I getting myself into?" You muttered furiously. Were you really going the extra mile to protect your friends over some gut feelings? You were literally praying to God that you would receive some sort of reserved spot in heaven for the shadow work you were doing. That is until you were interrupted by a somberly slow clap and a couple of shoes that clacked against the stairs above you.

"Wasn't expecting such a plot twist..." Sunoo came into clear view after reaching the final step at the bottom of the staircase. This was now the second time you were caught being heard by people separate from your plan. "So you didn't like Jungwon, but Sunghoon?!" He giggled in interest and cheap pity. He seemed rather thrilled to overhear your bullshit.

"I..." You could not come up with a reply in fear of both outcomes. By telling the truth or carrying out the lie to people, you were putting yourself in a very sticky situation.

"Dahee and Sunghoon were hitting it off so well the other day, it's a shame you're in the way..." Sunoo made an overly exaggerated glum face to piss you off, "You don't actually like him now, do you?" Sunoo caught on to your intentions, circling around you, "You're just doing it to save her, yes?"

You remained silent, causing Sunoo to stop right behind you where you felt the heat of his body getting closer.

"You're a lot smarter than some girls... It's enticing really... Perhaps that's why the boys are so fond of you?" Sunoo snaked around his arm to have the dull edge of his nail touch the flesh of between your jaw and neck. Slowly he etched a line down until it was right against your throbbing pulse.

You pulled away in shock as to how scandalous the act was, "I need to go... I'm supposed to check on Jungwon." You stepped away to face Sunoo in an abrupt manner.

"I heard about Jungwon's situation from Jay," He held the sharpest part of his chin between his index and middle finger, "Jungwon will just continue to get sick. He's so malnourished."

"Malnourished?" You echoed Sunoo.

"He chose to end up like that." Sunoo walked toward you again but this time passing you, with his shoulder slightly bumping yours, "Don't pity him, darling."

You shuddered. Sunoo was the most mysterious with his hints. He was the hardest to read between the lines with. For some reason, only he out of the boys influenced your thinking pattern.

...

After school and a mediocre meal at dinner, you regretted not at least peeping your head by the nurse's office just once that afternoon. Jungwon had probably been released from health watch but you thought you could've come to terms with him that evening. It was unsatisfying as you didn't feel any closure between the war of words you had with him. What wasn't helping was the stress you also had from Sunghoon.

The daylight vanished rather quick in the colder season of the year and dusk approached rather faster than a candle blowout. Since Sunghoon didn't set a specific time, you just headed out with not a glance at the clock. Your guess was to sneak out as soon as the sun came falling down. Due to the hallway monitors of your school during the late evening, it suddenly became an obstacle you had not planned for. You were confused yourself as to how Sunghoon could sneak out at this time of day, surely sneaking out super late at night was possible but not in the evening. Eventually, you took a trip out of a window on the bottom floor of the dormitory to bypass one of the school monitors.

You were well aware of how idiotic you looked running down the concrete steps and toward the very back of your school where the shadows of the forest shined brightly. You didn't see Sunghoon at all insight which was making your heart thump in fear and anger. There was no way this guy was going to set you up like this? You bit around random parts on the inside parts of your mouth as the sky grew darker every few seconds. With no one around and nothing around to do as you waited for Sunghoon, you approached the line between the woods and open grass field. You began to get deja vu of Jungwon which made you nervous as you felt the same wispy grass tickle at your calves.

"You actually came?" Sunghoon's voice rang in the open air from behind you,  scaring the literal hell out of you.

"Y-yes I did." You sighed as to how close you were to exploring that forest, "Let's just get to the point." You turned your head back just for him to be in your personal space, you almost lost your balance trying to add some room.  

"Walk with me." He ignored your jump into things while crossing the boundary between the skylight of dusk and the darkness of the woods.  With hesitation and no clue as to what was about to go down, you followed him. "What did you want to hear from me again?" He asked carelessly with hands in his pockets as he guided you over a pile of soil and dead leaves.

"Kyungeun." You answered bluntly. "Why is she tied down to you?"

"That son of a bitch. She told you, huh?" He rolled his eyes in dear annoyance, "I guess you could say I have some information about her that would totally diminish her image." He kicked and crunched around a couple of leaves as he dragged his feet. You remembered Jaeyun had told you Kyungeun had secrets, perhaps that was it? Were you allowed to ask him about it?

Making a mental note to ask Kyungeun about it later you brisked forward to the next question, "Okay? But you said she'd be of no use to you when you get your hands on Dahee... What exactly did you mean?" Your heart thumped in loud eagerness as you move behind Sunghoon.

"She doesn't taste as good." Sunghoon paused to have you hear him clearly, "Her blood."

Your face heated up, a vibrant blush sparkling your face before the sickening realization hit you, "D-don't tell me..." The horror spreading like wildfire in your body from your head downwards. You were frozen to the very core as all the puzzle pieces came together. All the times including the gash on Kyungeun's neck, the warnings Sunoo gave, and Heeseung licking your hand... It wasn't just Sunghoon who was a vampire, it was all of the boys...

What Sunghoon faced you with a gentle eyes he withdrew the small book from inside his blazer, making your ankles shake. "I suppose you'll know why I took this now." He shook the book before throwing it in front of you with pity. You simply watched the book plop on the bed of dead leaves before your shoes in no ability to process or produce words. You didn't even feel like picking up the book as you were afraid of reading it's horrific contents.

"W-well you won't be getting your hands on Dahee any time soon." You tremble with a paralyzing fear as you tried to speak. You were regretting the bold comment, for fuck sakes the boy standing before you could kill you right then and there.

He stepped closer and closer to which you stepped further and further. "Well, then I guess I'll keep Kyungeun under my power until the day she dies." His scornful laugh made you shudder painfully. In full defeat, you were sincerely helpless. You felt you couldn't run nor report the boys, who would ever believe you? You began questioning how you even got in this position.

"Wh-why does it have to be them? Can't you just live without blood?!" You cried pathetically as you backed into a hard tree.

"And end up like Jungwon?" Delight crept onto Sunghoon's white face as yours grew in confusion, "He hasn't drunk blood in months, he's so weak to the point where he can't even stand sometimes..." Sunghoon went on to speak his mind, "Heeseung and I were convinced he was messing around you for your blood."

Your eyes shot wide open in disbelief, "Well he's clearly not like you if he's abstaining from blood."

"It's true... Something changed in him recently after he started talking to you. Perhaps he has fallen for a mortal?"

"Go to fucking hell." You muttered at a volume that wasn't loud enough for Sunghoon to hear.

"As soon as I sensed your presence that day in the library, I knew you would fall down this rabbit hole." He hummed while bending to have your eyes both at the same level. "Curiosity killed the cat."

You held your tongue with no desire to respond to Sunghoon as the closeness was now more than dangerous. But your muted self only gave Sunghoon the opportunity to proceeded to taunt you. He began caging you against the tree, causing you to press up against the rough wood where you couple feel every detail of the bark on your back.

"I remember Heeseung telling Jaeyun and I about just how good the blood from finger tasted... How about a deal?" He caught your attention as you met eyes with him. A full set of upper teeth being exposed between his rosy lips. If there was one thing you had been taught by the caregivers of your school, it was to never make deals with the devil. You knew exactly what kind of bargin Sunghoon had in store for you "I'll leave your friends in peace if you promise me this," He said with a small lean forward so that his chin rested on your collarbone earning a gasp from you,

"You'll give me your blood in exchange for theirs."

[shiversdownyerspine]

10. Douse

Still alive and kickin, I can’t be stopped!

18+

Expected to be set back on your feet as Axel reaches your screen door, you feel your face flush when you realize he fully intends to carry you out like this in front of his brothers.

At the sound of the handle turning with a creak, you promptly start flailing.

"Axel I can walk, you know I can walk! Let me down!"

Your cries falls on deaf ears. The relentless man releases the door handle to adjust his grip; the hand on your thigh slides higher, taking your dress with it, while his other grabs the back of your knee. Thrashing reduced to a much more controllable wiggling, he kicks the door open and steps into the sunlight.

Squirming and praying your rear is still covered, you try a different angle, "I will answer any questions you have about my Phase, I promise!"

That brings him to a stop. You brace your hands as close to his shoulders as you can and push off, shoving yourself backwards to his front.

With a gasp you slide down his chest as his hand cups your side to steady your quick descent. Your bare feet lightly pat atop the stone of the patio. The oh so cold wet stone.

Jolting at the chill, you look around the watery murder scene before turning your attention to the two culprits standing face to face like they're in some sort of showdown; Otto and Oscar, to their credit, have pristine feet. But at the cost of becoming drowned rats. 

You hold back laughter, but allow a wide smile. Their hair is an utter mess.

Otto and Oscar are ripped from their stalemate at the sound of your voice, "I'm sorry to say, but you're going to have to put your water war on pause. We should get this started before the weather takes a turn." 

Your next sentence you mutter just loud enough, "That and before a certain somebody gets impatient. And tries to carry people again."

The hand still at your side gives a soft warning squeeze that has you quickly scurrying over in the direction of your patio furniture before he can grab you up. You're not going to take any chances, you'd like to keep your feet on the ground thank you very much.

The younger brothers glance up at the sky to see rain clouds on the horizon. They wander closer to the cottage as you check and make sure the flower bushes close to ground zero haven't been completely flooded. Otto rewraps the hose as Oscar tries to squeeze out as much water as he can from his sweater. After securing the coils back on the hook, Otto slumps down in one of your wooden chairs. Sliding the messy locks of his hair out of his face, he gives Oscar the stink eye as his brother flops even more gracelessly down in the matching chair next to him.

Oscar pauses, taking a closer look at what you're wearing, and smacks Otto's elbow with the back of his hand. Otto glares at his sibling before his attention is directed to you. Admiration lightly flushes the large man's cheeks as Oscar grins at his reaction. Your usual wear is adorable, but they would kill to see you in something light and flowy like this again...and judging from the possessive hand Axel has rested at your back after he makes his way to you, he approves as well.

Trying not to focus entirely on the warmth of the eldest brother's hand, you step carefully to the wooden bench sitting adjacent to the chairs. Taking a seat, your feet lift quickly from the chilly shallow lake below as Axel follows close behind you. 

Sitting beside you, the man pulls your knife from his pocket, and begins with a simple, "Explain this."

Your eyes flash stubbornly. Did he really think you were going to make this easy for him? After his earlier stunt? Right.

As innocently as you can, you reply, "Axel that's a paring knife. You cook, you should really know this."

Oscar chokes his laugh down as Otto clears his throat. Unbeknownst to the two of you, the younger brothers had actually been locked in water combat for only a short time; earlier on Otto had gotten distracted by you and Axel, and Oscar had noticed where his tallest brother's attention had been directed. You both have had a captive audience pretty much the entire time.

At least until Axel had made his way over to the screen door with you tossed over his shoulder. Oscar had immediately grabbed the hose and did what he had to do to hide any sign of their guilty observation and eavesdropping. Otto hadn't been amused, but he begrudgingly understood that they may have needed some sort of alibi.

Axel's nostrils flare, his eyes narrowing as he thumbs along the blade.

He drawls, "What do you do with it."

Keeping a straight face is becoming a bit difficult. He is making this too much fun for you.

With slight confusion you reply, "...It's...it's in the name."

The silence from Axel nearly breaks Oscar. Otto has his poker face on and appears unaffected by your antics, but the mirth in his eyes tells a different story.

As for Axel? He betrays almost nothing, maybe a mild frustration at best. But his brothers would bet money that their older sibling is resisting some rather...lustful urges right now. Your teasing bothers the eldest in the worst way...or maybe the best.

Your eyes fall to the knife in Axel's hand. Might as well get this show on the road.

"...But yes, I do use it differently. I use it as an aid for my ability. When I want to change into my Phase, that knife provides me with a method that gives me the most control. If I vary the depth of the cut, I can adjust the time I spend in my Phase."

Oscar glances at the little unassuming tool before asking, "Change for what?"

You shift on the bench, getting a little more comfortable.

"Well. When I first started living here, my forest and lake were in pretty poor condition. Garbage and filth had been left sitting for years, which meant the soil was being smothered by water that couldn't drain the way it needed to. Because of the waterlogging, many of the trees developed root rot."

Cocking your head to the side, you recall the information provided by your environment books. You had spent countless hours reading and notetaking, determined to restore your childhood home.

"Root rot isn't the most dangerous thing, but it can be tricky to identify in its early stages. A little less than half of the pines were infected, a good amount too far gone. Their root systems had basically been turned to mush."

You worried for a moment you were boring the three who may have been expecting something more thrilling, but they appeared to be listening quite intently. They had mentioned hunting and fishing in their lives, so you'd have to remember these three weren't just assassins, they were woodsmen. Maybe this was right up their alley?

"So! The biggest problem I had at the end of the day, was identifying pines in early stages of rot. Not to mention a lack of tools to do so. But I knew that my ability affected my senses, and thought maybe I could use that."

Otto murmurs, "Better senses?"

You pause, "...Yes and no. Um...take my eyesight for example, my night vision. My eyes are better at night but are more sensitive to light, kind of like..an owl's. So in that aspect, it's situational. Better at night, weaker in the day. If there is anything I can call 'better' outright, it'd be my hearing and balance. But not by much."

Fidgeting with the hem of your dress, you fight back bashfulness at talking about a part of your ability that is particularly...bestial.

"When I was in my forest in my Phase, I..was using smell. Normally you smell root rot from the soil, it'll be bad...swampy. But with time and practice, I could smell the rot itself. I can't really describe it other than it's very...heavy."

Decay in particular stood out to you; a combination of sharp and dark, old and new and lost. You count yourself very lucky that you had no urges to consume those types of things, given the peculiar animalness of your ability.

"So, that's what I use my knife for."

You lean against the side of the bench, folding your arms over your belly as you think. There was something else...

"Oh right! You wanted to know um...why I didn't attack you three the first time? To put it simply, instinct plays a part in what I choose to perceive as a threat when I'm in my Phase. It's...decently reliable."

Otto shifts, grimacing at the wet feel of his long johns sticking to his skin, before asking, "To you, not a threat?"

A soft sigh leaves your lips, "I haven't really been in many dangerous situations in my life. But uh...when you three caught me...there was no sinking, overpowering, awful sensation. It was quiet. I was really nervous, definitely, but it felt like...I could wait? So I did."

You smile a little, "Besides, my healing gives me a little more wiggle room in terms of patience."

Oscar shuffling in his seat draws your attention; he does not appear to be happily enduring the texture of his soaked turtleneck, and his frustration is mounting. Refusing to be trapped and uncomfortable any longer, he slips his suspenders off his shoulders and drags the article of clothing up and off his body.

With flushed cheeks, you watch him drop the sweater onto the arm of his chair and relax half-naked in his seat. You try to distract yourself from the handsome man, to rip your eyes away before you're caught.

You succeed, much to your relief. Only that relief is temporary as your eyes land on Otto, whose clinging long johns have been rendered nearly see-through and what were you talking about again?

When Oscar returns his attention to you to see you tense and cheeks practically glowing with your gaze riveted to your knees, he smirks. Oh sweetheart, you can look if you want, they won't bite.

Well. Not too hard at least.

Besides, they've all been looking at you for quite some time. Not to mention having some not very polite daydreams involving you. Do you think of them too? Of their hands and mouths on you, fingers and tongues inside of you, bodies pressed tight against yours?

Curiously, he looks to Axel, whose interest is still on the knife...except its not, not at all. He's watching you, eyes half-lidded with a wicked spark glimmering in their depths. He'd seen your reactions, and if Oscar had to guess, was having some more indecent thoughts of you right now.

You're trying to convince yourself that the burning gazes you feel are simply the brothers thinking of questions...but if that's all it is, why do you feel so naked?

You squirm; it's probably just in your head, but you can't bring yourself to look up and meet their eyes just yet. You need something to keep the ball rolling, before this silence stretches on for too long.

Well...there is something that's been on your mind lately...

"...If..If you don't mind me asking you all a question?"

That seems to break the trance they were in, curiosity pushing through.

Axel encourages, "Go on."

You approach the question gingerly, "Alright..so doing the work that you do...I'd imagine one of your stronger instincts would be protecting yourselves and each other. Avoid hesitation...shoot first ask questions later? And...well?.....you all saw some..weird...woman?..animal?!?..looking thing! With glowing eyes, like something out of a nightmare. Why did you let me live?"

The silence and quiet shifting of their bodies that follows your question is enough to draw your eyes up from your knees.

The brothers had their gazes fixed on you, but after they have processed your inquiry, they falter. Oscar and Otto look to Axel, to you, and to each other. You watch them under your lashes the entire time, a little surprised to see them so...unsure. Axel had settled against the back of the seat, thinking. He seemed far away, lost in old memory. 

Otto keeps his eyes trained on his hands where they rest...were his ears a bit red? 

He mutters something and his brothers look to him in mild surprise.

He clears his throat and tries again, carefully, "Not..night hag...dream? You are...story?"

Scowling with frustration, Otto sighs, "Jävla engelska."

Oscar elaborates, "From fairytale."

Their admission brings back bittersweet memories.

Content to reminisce, yet a little forlorn, your eyes fall to the water that has submerged the stone floor of your patio.

"You know. When I first discovered what I was..or..what I wasn't?..the very first thing I did was grab any fairytale books I could find. Folklore, myths and legends, anything. We didn't have a very good collection though, and many were basically the same stories, but I had to be sure. In the end, there wasn't anything really like me in them. Of course."

It had been disheartening. You had been so naive; you had thought that maybe you could have found some kind of answer or reason for being the way you were, some kind of history or even family. Myths and tales had to come from somewhere, right? Hold some speck of truth.

Wanting to do something about the soft, sad expression on your face, Oscar lightheartedly teases, "Werewolf?"

It works.

Biting your lip, a grin slips through with a giggle, "I considered maybe something like that, but since there was no..changing under a full moon, I crossed it off the list."

You fidget, a little sheepish as you admit, "I still read any new fairytale books I can find in town. I'm not exactly looking for anything anymore, but...well, habit is habit I suppose."

Every once in a while you'd pull a book from the small collection locked away in your bedroom to read as you were winding down for the night. That or to pass the time as your condition played Keep Away with your sleep.

Axel finally drifts out of the past to join in, "We were told stories in childhood. Women with tails, or hooves. Forest spirits."

Otto hums, "Skogsrå or Huldran."

Oscar grins, "Forest maiden."

When all three had laid eyes on you, they had to fight back the initial knee-jerk reaction that they had encountered a real mythical creature. After the three had retired to their guest room to regroup, a dazed Otto just sat on the bed and stared into nothing while Oscar had jokingly asked if they could keep you. 

Half-jokingly.

Their curiosity about you had been...exceptional, but they still had manners they needed to mind. Drowning you in personal questions for hours and hours on end was too boorish, their mother had taught them better. They wouldn't subject their polite little hostess to such disrespect.

With a smile you say, "No tails or hooves here, just feathers and scales. And claws."

A ripple breaking the calm surface of water surrounding the bench has you peering up to an overcast sky. Maybe it would have been better to stay inside after all, but a light drizzle never hurt anyone. You can count yourself lucky that cold water doesn't bother your condition all that much...unless it's a cold season downpour.

The brothers look to your hands, recalling the new information you had revealed to Otto about your victim. 

Axel leans in, "Tell us about claws."

You hesitate, considering your response, "Well...they're...basically made of keratin. I think. Like fingernails but stronger. They're not that long, so they can't really be called talons, but they help me grip and climb."

Otto questions, "Not fight?"

Flexing your fingers against the material of your dress, you speculate, "That's...I mean, if I took a swipe at someone I would probably leave a bit of a cut. Although if I went for the eyes that'd be a different story..."

Confusion crosses the brothers' faces. How exactly did you kill the man, then? Was it the adrenaline?

Axel asks what's on their minds, "Can't kill?"

You figured after everything you said to Otto that this would be coming.

"...I know what you're getting at. You want to know how I did..what I did."

You lock eyes with the eldest, bold as you simply state, "I won't be answering questions about that today."

Determination sets the oldest Swede's jaw, "You made a promise to tell everything. Was this a lie?"

Unsettled, you speak before you can think, "Everything about my First Phase, yes! I haven't lied!"

You clap your hands over your traitorous mouth.

Axel blinks, and then slowly, surely, his expression slides into something sly and victorious; you've revealed something quite interesting. Only for a moment do you bear witness to the brothers' growing intrigue before you cover your eyes, head bowing to hide your face in your hands in pure frustration.

Oscar's voice drifts into your ears, "First Phase? More than one?"

You groan, "See, this is my problem. I like you three too much and it makes me slip up in such stupid ways. Fudge muffins."

The three assassins perk up at the additional reveal of your fondness for them, carefully storing that particular little nugget of information away to be closely inspected at a later time. For now, their focus is elsewhere.

Before they can push for a little more clarification from you, a flash of lightning interrupts the conversation. Worried, you turn to the men with a frown.

"We should move this inside, Pumpkin really doesn't like thunderstorms. Not to mention the kittens will probably be scared too."

Oscar is the first to react to the information; leaning far to the side in his chair to peer at the screen door, he can make out a little ball of orange fluff curled tight against the door in misery. You stand, the brothers quick to follow in your lead.

As you head towards the door peering this way and that at your arms and legs, you mention, "Don't forget to check for spiders before heading in. It's been a while."

Otto grunts and the trio do a quick once-over as you pause by the hose to rinse your feet, watching Axel out of the corner of your eye.

Hm. He really didn't check all that carefully...you eye the hose, weighing the risk. Really though, don't you deserve a little revenge?

Yes, yes you do.

Instrument of justice in hand, you take aim and blast him with what water was left in the hose before you have the chance to talk some sense into yourself.

Surprisingly, all the man does is tense up, still like a statue. There's no grunt or bark of surprise, though maybe you heard a sharp intake of breath from him?

Hair disheveled and wide-eyed as water drips from his skin and clothes, he stares at you. His younger brothers mirror his disbelieving expression and you can't help but take pride in the thought that you've successfully surprised all three of them.

You offer him a simple explanation for the impromptu shower, backing slowly away from the hose towards the door to the cottage all the while.

"...You missed a spot."

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

Jävla engelska-   Fucking English

[lilacorgi]

Twisted Wonderland Overblot Part 2

Previous Part: https://lilacorgi.tumblr.com/post/624742668880281600/twisted-wonderland-overblots

“You need to run Mr. Crowley,” Grim said. “Or I’ll burn ya,”

Crowley didn’t move, he was aware of his dire situation and consequences because of his actions.

“Why should I… control it?” Yuu asks.

“You will do things that you will regret,” Crowley replied. They thought for a moment and realized what he meant.

“Principal… can you kill me?” They pleaded.

“Yuu… I’m not going to kill you,” Crowley answered.

“I know. That’s why you lied and gave me false hope,” Yuu cried black tears. “Why didn’t you do anything to stop this?”

“This is all inevitable,” he stated.

“You couldn’t have stopped it no matter what you did,”

“So all the things Grim went through was for nothing?” They ask. Grim didn’t react even to his name. He was only focused on one particular bird.

“No, it’s why we can talk like this,” Crowley said.

“You’re running out of time," Crowley’s statement made Yuu grit their teeth.

“Who cares what happens to me? My friends are going to die!” They cried.

“This is my punishment for failing to save them,” Yuu stared at the black stain on their hand. They could feel the darkness trying to escape.

“Yuu,” he kneels to them and looks at them in the eyes. “I promise you, I will tell you everything,”

“And why should I believe you? You were lying to me for an entire year,” Yuu questioned.

He takes off his mask, revealing his golden eyes underneath.

“Because I am very kind,” he says.

Grim jumps out of Yuu’s arms and runs to the wall, growling. He shrieks, his body distorts, growing larger, and transforms into a beast.

Yuu and Crowley were taken back by the monstrous form then Grim blows fire at the principal. Yuu steps back, shocked by Grim’s attack.

Crowley was nowhere to be seen, only leaving behind his coat.

Yuu breathes and their eye becomes entirely back. They cover their eye as they fall on their knees. Grim walks to them and nuzzles their head.

“It’s okay, Grim,” they stroke his cheek. “Why don’t you try out those wings of yours?” They tell him. He spreads out his wings and teleports in a cloud of black smoke.

Yuu saw something shining at the edge of the room. They walk over to see a broken necklace of Grim’s magic gem. It was in a good condition despite Grim’s transformation.

Yuu’s phone dings from a text and they pick up their cracked phone off the ground. It was a text from Malleus, making their face slightly brighten.

“It’s finally the end of the year, what are your plans for the future?” He asks.

“Future?” They thought. “I don’t have one anymore,”

“I need to answer him,” they type in their reply.

“Yuu!” Deuce calls out. The first years burst into the room, making their eyes widen.

“You’re all here,” they said, pulling their hood down.

“Of course! We were all startled by that loud explosion!” Sebak hollered.

“Are you alright? What happened to Grim and the mirror?” Ace asks.

“Grim has become a beast from eating the black rocks,” they answer.

“In other words … he overblotted?” Jack asks.

“Yes, except he has the power of all the dorm leaders,”

“We’ll have to gather all of them and fight him together,” Ace said.

“No… you’ll have to do it without me,” they asserted.

“Why?” Epel asks.

Yuu takes off their hood and they show their eye that was entirely black.

They were all speechless.

“I’m running out of time,” Yuu said.

“No… That can’t …” Ace denied.

“So this is what overblot feels like… what a terrible feeling,” they choked out. “It feels like there’s a monster inside me trying to claw its way out,”

“Yuu…” Jack muttered.

“Could you guys do me a favor?” Yuu asks.

“Anything,” The first years said.

“I need a…” they were cut off when they all give them a tight hug.

Yuu didn’t need to say anything, their friends knew they wanted a hug. They had clear tears running down their cheeks and gently pushed them away.

“Go, I don’t know how long I can hold it back,” they warned.

“We’ll kick your ass!” Epel cries and Yuu smiles, watching them leave.

“Sebak… wait…” He halts and turns to them. Yuu sends their text on the phone and lends it to him.

“Give this to Malleus,” they requested.

“Yuu… Young Master’s worst fear is losing the ones he holds most dear,” Sebak told them.

“Am I really that precious to him?” Yuu asks.

“…More than you can comprehend,” he says with tears running down his cheeks. He wipes his tears away and Yuu grabs his collar with their hands.

“Yuu?” They grit their teeth as they throw him out of the mirror chambers. He manages to get back up on his feet.

“Run Sebak! Runaway from here as fast as you can!” Yuu cried. He does what he was told with tears running down his cheeks.

They whimper as something shakes, making a rattling noise, and it breaks. Their eyes widen and they take shaken deep breaths.

Each breath they took, the more fear and pain it was filled.

Screeching quietly, they wondered, “Is it this painful to overblot?”

A coffin bursts open and darkness floods out.

The first years rush to the hall of mirrors. Epel is wiping tears away, while the others are trying their best to hold it in but failing.

“Where did Sebak go?” Ace asks.

“He went to get Malleus,” Jack answers.

The ground suddenly shakes and comes to a halt.

“Was that Grim?” Deuce asks.

“Probably,” Ace answers.

When they arrive, they see Crowley without his jacket sitting on the ground, texting someone.

“Principal, something-“Jack asks.

“I know. I have evacuated all students to their dorms. You tell your dorm leaders, I have already summoned the rest,” the principal orders.

“Why do they need to handle it when you can?” Ace asks.

“Yuu told me that you’ve been lying to them. You finally tell them the truth and they overblotted,”

”Mr. Trappola, you don’t know the full story and neither does Yuu. I would prefer to explain to Yuu first before anyone else,” Crowley said.

”Fine,” Ace turns to the Heartslabyul mirror and goes to his dormitory with Deuce following.

Jack and Epel give each other a look then go to their dorms to tell their leaders.

Malleus was standing by a gargoyle in the forest. He was reading a text from Yuu over and over.

“I’m planning to stay by your side, Malleus,” they said. He loved the thought of that, Yuu standing by his throne as his advisor.

How he yearned for that future so badly… to the point where he overblotted and put a sleeping curse on them.

Despite that, Yuu’s smiling face was the first thing he saw after he overblotted.

He had already come to terms with it that eventually, they will leave him.

“Why did Yuu say that when they will be leaving?” He thought, concerned.

“Young Master!” Sebak hollers. He was crying, not tears of joy, but sadness, a rare sight to see.

“What’s wrong?” Malleus asks.

He holds out Yuu’s cracked phone to Malleus.

It makes his eyes widen, his worst fear… is going to become reality… losing Yuu.

The dark clouds quickly turned to a thunderstorm, and the sky roared.

“What’s in your hands?” Malleus asks.

“Their phone. Yuu wanted to give this to you before they overblotted,” Sebak answers “They need you,”

"I know," Malleus said.

“You have done it again, Yuu. You brought them together to fight the same opponent,” Malleus thought.

“Who could have thought that it would be you?”

[richincolor]

New Releases for the Week of May 3, 2021

It's great to see so many new books hitting the shelves this week. I know I've been waiting for several of these and am happy to be able to finally read them. 

The Ones We’re Meant to Find by Joan He Roaring Brook

Cee has been trapped on an abandoned island for three years without any recollection of how she arrived, or memories from her life prior. All she knows is that somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, she has a sister named Kay. Determined to find her, Cee devotes her days to building a boat from junk parts scavenged inland, doing everything in her power to survive until the day she gets off the island and reunites with her sister.

In a world apart, 16-year-old STEM prodigy Kasey Mizuhara is also living a life of isolation. The eco-city she calls home is one of eight levitating around the world, built for people who protected the planet―and now need protecting from it. With natural disasters on the rise due to climate change, eco-cities provide clean air, water, and shelter. Their residents, in exchange, must spend at least a third of their time in stasis pods, conducting business virtually whenever possible to reduce their environmental footprint. While Kasey, an introvert and loner, doesn’t mind the lifestyle, her sister Celia hated it. Popular and lovable, Celia much preferred the outside world. But no one could have predicted that Celia would take a boat out to sea, never to return.

Now it’s been three months since Celia’s disappearance, and Kasey has given up hope. Logic says that her sister must be dead. But as the public decries her stance, she starts to second guess herself and decides to retrace Celia’s last steps. Where they’ll lead her, she does not know. Her sister was full of secrets. But Kasey has a secret of her own. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee Quill Tree Books

Noah Ramirez thinks he’s an expert on romance. He has to be for his popular blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem—all the stories are fake. What started as the fantasies of a trans boy afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe.

When a troll exposes the blog as fiction, Noah’s world unravels. The only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. Then Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place: Drew is willing to fake-date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realizes that dating in real life isn’t quite the same as finding love on the page.

In this charming novel by Emery Lee, Noah will have to choose between following his own rules for love or discovering that the most romantic endings are the ones that go off script. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

They Better Call Me Sugar: My Journey from the Hood to the Hardwood by Sugar Rodgers Black Sheep

Growing up in dire poverty in Suffolk, Virginia, Sugar (born Ta’Shauna) Rodgers never imagined that she would become an all-star player in the WNBA (Women’s National Basketball Association). Both of her siblings were in and out of prison throughout much of her childhood and shootings in her neighborhood were commonplace. For Sugar this was just a fact of life.

While academics wasn’t a high priority for Sugar and many of her friends, athletics always played a prominent role. She mastered her three-point shot on a net her brother put up just outside their home, eventually becoming so good that she could hustle local drug dealers out of money in one-on-one contests.

With the love and support of her family and friends, Sugar’s performance on her high school basketball team led to her recruitment by the Georgetown Hoyas, and her eventual draft into the WNBA in 2013 by the Minnesota Lynx (who won the WNBA Finals in Sugar’s first year). The first of her family to attend college, Sugar speaks of her struggles both academically and as an athlete with raw honesty.

Sugar’s road to a successful career as a professional basketball player is fraught with sadness and death–including her mother’s death when she’s fourteen, which leaves Sugar essentially homeless. Throughout it all, Sugar clings to basketball as a way to keep herself focused and sane.

And now Sugar shares her story as a message of hope and inspiration for young girls and boys everywhere, but especially those growing up in economically challenging conditions. Never sugarcoating her life experiences, she delivers a powerful message of discipline, perseverance, and always believing in oneself. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry by Joya Goffney HarperTeen

Quinn keeps lists of everything—from the days she’s ugly cried, to “Things That I Would Never Admit Out Loud,” to all the boys she’d like to kiss. Her lists keep her sane. By writing her fears on paper, she never has to face them in real life. That is, until her journal goes missing…

An anonymous account posts one of her lists on Instagram for the whole school to see and blackmails her into facing seven of her greatest fears, or else her entire journal will go public. Quinn doesn’t know who to trust. Desperate, she teams up with Carter Bennett—the last known person to have her journal—in a race against time to track down the blackmailer.

Together, they journey through everything Quinn’s been too afraid to face, and along the way, Quinn finds the courage to be honest, to live in the moment, and to fall in love. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Hurricane Summer by Asha Bromfield Wednesday Books

Tilla has spent her entire life trying to make her father love her. But every six months, he leaves their family and returns to his true home: the island of Jamaica.

When Tilla’s mother tells her she’ll be spending the summer on the island, Tilla dreads the idea of seeing him again, but longs to discover what life in Jamaica has always held for him.

In an unexpected turn of events, Tilla is forced to face the storm that unravels in her own life as she learns about the dark secrets that lie beyond the veil of paradise—all in the midst of an impending hurricane.

Hurricane Summer is a powerful coming of age story that deals with colorism, classism, young love, the father-daughter dynamic—and what it means to discover your own voice in the center of complete destruction. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Indivisible by Daniel Aleman Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

There is a word Mateo Garcia and his younger sister Sophie have been taught to fear for as long as they can remember: deportation. Over the past few years, however, the fear that their undocumented immigrant parents could be sent back to Mexico has started to fade to the back of their minds. And why wouldn’t it, when their Ma and Pa have been in the United States for so long, they have American-born children, and they’re hard workers and good neighbors?

When two ICE agents come asking for Pa, the Garcia family realizes that the lives they’ve built are about to come crumbling down. And when Mateo returns from school one day to find that his parents have been taken, he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that his family’s worst nightmare has become a reality.

With his Ma and Pa being held in separate detention centers, Mateo must learn how to look after his sister and himself. The choices Mateo makes, and the people he turns to for help, might reunite his family… or tear them apart for good. With his parents’ fate and his own future hanging in the balance, Mateo must figure out who he is and what he is capable of, even as he’s forced to question what it means to be an American teenager in a country that rejects his own mom and dad. — Cover art and summary via Goodreads

Counting Down with You by Tashie Bhuiyan Inkyard Press

Karina Ahmed has a plan. Keep her head down, get through high school without a fuss, and follow her parents’ rules—even if it means sacrificing her dreams. When her parents go abroad to Bangladesh for four weeks, Karina expects some peace and quiet. Instead, one simple lie unravels everything.

Karina is my girlfriend.

Tutoring the school’s resident bad boy was already crossing a line. Pretending to date him? Out of the question. But Ace Clyde does everything right—he brings her coffee in the mornings, impresses her friends without trying, and even promises to buy her a dozen books (a week) if she goes along with his fake-dating facade. Though Karina agrees, she can’t help but start counting down the days until her parents come back.

T-minus twenty-eight days until everything returns to normal—but what if Karina no longer wants it to? — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

All Kinds of Other by James Sie Quill Tree Books

In this tender, nuanced coming-of-age love story, two boys—one who is cis and one who is trans—have been guarding their hearts to protect themselves, until their feelings for each other give them a reason to stand up to their fears.

Two boys are starting at a new school.

Jules is just figuring out what it means to be gay and hasn’t totally decided whether he wants to be out at his new school. His parents and friends have all kinds of opinions, but for his part, Jules just wants to make the basketball team and keep his head down.

Jack is trying to start over after a best friend break-up. He followed his actor father clear across the country to LA, but he’s also totally ready to leave his past behind. Maybe this new school where no one knows him is exactly what he needs.

When the two boys meet, the sparks are undeniable. But then a video surfaces linking Jack to a pair of popular transgender vloggers, and the revelations about Jack’s past thrust both Jack and Jules into the spotlight they’ve been trying to avoid. Suddenly both boys have a choice to make—between lying low where it’s easier or following their hearts. — Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Luck of the Titanic by Stacey Lee G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Southampton, 1912: Seventeen-year-old British-Chinese Valora Luck has quit her job and smuggled herself aboard the Titanic with two goals in mind: to reunite with her twin brother Jamie--her only family now that both their parents are dead--and to convince a part-owner of the Ringling Brothers Circus to take the twins on as acrobats. Quick-thinking Val talks her way into opulent firstclass accommodations and finds Jamie with a group of fellow Chinese laborers in third class. But in the rigidly stratified world of the luxury liner, Val's ruse can only last so long, and after two long years apart, it's unclear if Jamie even wants the life Val proposes. Then, one moonless night in the North Atlantic, the unthinkable happens--the supposedly unsinkable ship is dealt a fatal blow--and Val and her companions suddenly find themselves in a race to survive.

Stacey Lee, master of historical fiction, brings a fresh perspective to an infamous tragedy, loosely inspired by the recently uncovered account of six Titanic survivors of Chinese descent.

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Cauldron Blooms

CR 15

Neutral Colossal Plant

Adventure Path: Tyrant’s Grasp: Gardens of Gallowspire, pg. 86~87

These immense, startlingly intelligent, subterranean plants can lay quietly for hours before suddenly bursting to the surface in a flurry of terrifying activity, swallowing up entire herds in a single go..The immense magical power inside of a Cauldron Bloom needs a consistent supply of fresh blood to maintain, meaning these creatures are hunting almost constantly for their next meal even as their stomachs fill to capacity. Their senses highly attuned to the movement of potential prey--their Tremorsense is a mile wide--Cauldron Blooms carefully track their meals and choose the perfect time to strike, often allowing their food to come right up to their hiding spot to save the most energy. They can move with surprising stealth for such immense beings, but their stealth comes at a cost of a movement speed that’s barely above standing still; the Blooms can only shuffle 10ft in a single round.

But this slow movement speed masks their true danger. Their glacial pace is no hindrance for a feeding Cauldron Bloom, and I’m not just talking about how they wield their 30ft reaching vines. They have a truly novel way of catching and feeding on prey, one that can spell death for even flying beasts or adventurers who are prepared for their massive reach: their Warping Field. Manifesting as invisible “strands” of Conjuration magic that quickly lace around any creature within an impressive distance, the Bloom can pull these strands taut in an instant, teleporting any creature caught by them directly into its stomach. The Bloom can choose to either ‘diffuse’ these strands as a swift action, targeting every creature within 120ft of it, or focus their mass at a single creature within 360ft to pull them in like an expert angler. In either case, a DC 23 save is needed to avoid this hostile teleportation (Reflex for diffusion, Fortitude for targeted), but in a rare and amusing case of slapping yourself with a debuff being the right thing to do, using Dimensional Lock or similar prevents the teleportation altogether.

Anyone inside the Cauldron Bloom isn’t melted by acid or boiled by some strange heated mixture, no; I mentioned that both its method of getting food and actually eating it were novel, and I meant it. The interior of a Bloom is a whirling maelstrom of arcane energy, spinning everything inside of it around in a Sanguine Centrifuge. Anyone exposed to the terrifying conditions within is swung around with such ferocity that their skin begins to tear and their blood flies from their body into the walls, taking 2d8+16 damage and bleeding for 3d6 further damage each round, the spinning so violent that they have to make a DC 23 Reflex save each round to actually maintain any semblance of control. Anyone who fails is nauseated for one round by the motion, meaning at least one more round in the world’s worst tilt-a-whirl ride. Even Freedom of Movement is no real help here, as there is no physical or magical binding; it’s just pure, constant motion from which the only escape is death or teleportation (yes you can cut your way out, but the Bloom will likely just swallow you again next round with a swift action). Rather interestingly, the book notes that the Centrifuge is often made even more dangerous by the presence of past meals within the gut; flesh and bone are destroyed by the force, disintegrated to harmless ash (which happens to anyone that reaches 0 HP inside the thing), but armor, stones, weapons, gems, coins, and other valuables inside are swung around like debris in a hurricane to form lethal clouds of shrapnel (and troves of treasure to be gathered if the Bloom is defeated) to act as extra dangers if the DM is feeling wicked enough.

A Cauldron Bloom who cannot teleport prey into itself (either because it’s full or because its targets are warded against teleportation) is forced to rely on its trio of slamming vines, which deal a decent 2d8+16 damage each. Against such prey, though, the intelligent Bloom may simply elect to leave and seek an easier meal, either burrowing away or using its Terraforming Teleport. Able to relocate its entire mass along with every creature in its belly to any point within 1 mile, the only restriction for its destination is that the spot the Bloom flees to must contain enough sand, stone, or soil to completely conceal it underground, with the clump of dirt forming the ‘target.’ It doesn’t so much truly ‘teleport’ itself as it swaps itself out for its target, creating a perfect replica of itself from the targeted material in the spot it used to be in. The book notes that Bloom territory is often pockmarked by these semi-statues, with some enterprising travelers even building small settlements on the massive stone flowers left behind when the Blooms teleport from soil or swamp into solid rock, but I’m just thinking of the horror experienced by a party who has no idea about this quirk thinking they’ve “killed” the beast only to watch it “dissolve” into mud, crumble to sand, or petrify to solid stone, taking with it everyone it ate.

With an Int of 14, Blooms are smart enough to know when they’re beaten, and many may be tricky enough to pull off that very prank. They are, in fact, smart enough to practice animal husbandry and gardening, with some ancient and powerful Blooms going so far as to create small, safe habitats for their favorite prey to assure a long-term food supply! Adorably, the Bloom in the book even has ranks in Perform (Percussion), leading me to envision Blooms drumming loud melodies on the soil that are unheard and unappreciated by anything without tremorsense.

Yet another bit of wonderful weirdness on the world of Golarion!

You can read more about them here.

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

Something Wonderful (or Jamie and Owen compete to see who’s the better boyfriend and cause general exasperation)

The world’s best boyfriend contest started one Wednesday evening and went on for two weeks, resulting in about five trashcans full of wrapping paper, a completely exasperated au pair, a bemused housekeeper, one disgruntled cat, and a small fire.

(Don’t ask about the fire, okay? Just — don’t)

Now why Jamie had been participating in a best boyfriend contest, was frankly beyond Dani’s imagination. She had pondered it, turning it over and over in her head until all the incredulous question marks were just swirling around like balloons, had even asked her girlfriend this and been kissed into distraction until all the question marks had molded themselves into little malleable hearts that beat in time to every movement of Jamie’s lips against her own, but the question remained – Why was Jamie trying to be the best boyfriend when she was, in fact, a girl?

“A woman,” Jamie informs her, dignified. “Don’t infantilize me, Dani.”

“I’m sorry,” Dani replies. “Guess I must have been thinking of last night when you asked me to call you baby, like, ten times and then kiss your face all over until you were giggling.”

“Dani!” Jamie’s voice is muffled from where it’s coming to Dani from three inches of pillow fluff, drawn out so long that she can both hear and feel the embarrassment in those two syllables. “You know that was because you never kiss my face!”

Dani hums.

“You should kiss my face more often,” Jamie continues, and now Dani can hear the added pout. It is so cute that it’s an effort not to lean over, pull Jamie up until they’re facing each other, and kiss her until they’re both lightheaded.

(Nobody said having the most adorable girlfriend in the world would be easy)

(Nobody has said it, actually. Dani checked. They should’ve. Because it’s true)

Dani falls sideways until her head is next to the pillow, and consequently, Jamie’s head. She moves closer until her nose is pressing at Jamie’s temple, and presses two quick butterfly kisses high up on her cheek. Jamie whines.

“What? You told me to kiss you.”

“Yes, but now I’m embarrassed so I can’t look at you.”

Dani rolls her eyes, tamps down the urge to just grab at her girlfriend’s beautiful face and turn it towards her. Consent is sexy and all that. Also because she is sure that if Jamie looks at her now, all red and her brows furrowed, and lips curled up in a pout, Dani will pass out from sheer adoration.

“But I want to look at the winner of the best boyfriend contest in the world.”

This makes Jamie finally emerge from her self-made cocoon. “I know you’re joking, but it is something that I’m very proud of.”

“May I remind you that you didn’t actually win? And that you’re a girlfriend.”

“That’s because Hannah threatened to call Rebecca over and have her recite the terms and conditions documentation for her latest client to both of us,” Jamie tells her. “And also, it’s the principle of the thing.”

(Dani’s theory on dealing with idiot girlfriends, a gradually growing list states that when your girlfriend is being ridiculous, it is best to just go along with her shenanigans)

Dani just mhms.

*****

The entire thing starts because of Jamie.

(Oh, Jamie disagrees. But Dani knows, just knows that her sweet, if somewhat idiotic girlfriend, was the trigger that released the stupid bullet out of the gun. It’s not that she herself isn’t partly responsible but then again, try having a girlfriend who can widen her eyes and twirl a strand of her curly hair around her finger and mesmerize you into doing basically anything for her.)

There they are, sitting in the greenhouse, when they hear Owen and Hannah come strolling in and then Jamie gets that glint in her eye, the one that reads ‘I’m the cutest motherfucker and I will fuck things up simply because chaos intrigues me’.

(Dani may be paraphrasing a bit)

The point is, Jamie winks at her, and then immediately gets down on one knee, holds her hand, and says in a most terrible interpretation of Owen’s deep, gruff voice - “Hannah, my love, my absolute darling! Would you do me the honor of giving me company as I go about my every single task in this household? It’s just that I am completely whipped and cannot bear to be away from you for even one second!”

(Dani thinks it’s a little sanctimonious, since it was only yesterday that Jamie had driven back from the village in the middle of the night because she claimed to have been missing Dani too much, but stays quiet. She is the number one expert on dealing with ridiculous girlfriends, after all)

Owen rolls his eyes. Hannah just sighs in Dani’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah,” he drawls. “I love my partner, so sue me.”

“Ooh, Dani, look who’s being an adult now!” Jamie crows, and Dani would be annoyed if she weren’t completely smitten by her girlfriend’s amusement. “We have girlfriends, Owen here has a partner!”

“That one’s actually on me,” Hannah says mildly, taking a seat beside them on the bench. “I am too respectable and mature to be someone’s girlfriend.”

Dani would make fun of the completely besotted look on Owen’s face, if she weren’t sure that she had the same expression plastered on hers most of the time while she was around Jamie.

“You’re just jealous,” he says.

“Jealous of what? You don’t see my ravishing girlfriend sitting right here?”

“Oh, not of that,” Owen waves a hand in the air. “You’re just jealous because I’m a better boyfriend than you are.”

“Wha — I — how dare you?”

Dani opens her mouth, then shuts it again. No point.

He smirks. “You’re only pissed because you know it’s true.”

Jamie rises to her feet, faces him. “I do not pick out flowers for Dani — every day — in the color of whatever she is wearing just for you to turn around and call me mediocre.”

“Oh so that’s why you give me flowers every day,” she mumbles under her breath, loud enough for only Hannah to hear and chuckle at.

“Well,” Owen retorts. “I invent pastries for Hannah. And name them after her!”

(It’s true. His little bakery down at the village now features specials such as “Hannah”, “Hannah Returns”, “Han-nah Han-yes”, “Hannah Chocolate Banana”, and one notable donut that’s now just referred to by everyone as “Generic pun involving the name Hannah”)

Seemingly at an impasse, they turn to where Hannah and Dani are sitting, but right before they can say anything, Hannah holds up a hand, says – No, and glides out of the scene, gracefully.

Dani guesses that’s one way to end a discussion.

*****

“Miss Clayton,” Miles asks her, sounding supremely curious as he peers into the window, “Have Owen and Jamie started working out?”

Distracted, she frowns. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just that they’ve been racing around the grounds with something in their hands for the past fifteen minutes now.”

Dani walks over to the window, picks Flora up so she can stand on the desk to see better. Two figures are indeed running around the grounds, with what looks suspiciously like signboards held in their hands.

“Miles,” she says. “Do you still have those binoculars your uncle sent over for your birthday?”

He scampers away and is back in a flash, looking through them. And then he starts laughing.

“What?”

He’s still chortling, as he hands it over, unable to speak. “Just — just look.”

It takes her a while to focus as they’re constantly running. Now magnified, she can see, very clearly the look of sheer exhaustion on both of their faces. Sheer exhaustion mingled with utter obstinacy. And then she directs it a little upwards and what she sees makes her genuinely consider banging her head against the wall until she bleeds.

Owen’s sign reads – I’m the best boyfriend in the world.

Jamie’s reads – No, he’s not.

Dani lowers the contraption and starts thinking of ways to kill Jamie.

(“Baby, you’re killing me!”

“I literally just said I’m not going to kiss you for two days.”

Jamie throws up her hands, repeats - “Baby, you’re killing me!”)

*****

“Okay, so here’s an idea, okay?” Jamie says excitedly, as they’re walking in the woods in the moonlight. “Tomorrow, you can talk about how I took you to a candlelight dinner, and we had champagne, and we danced in the moonlight to a very romantic jazz song.”

“Or,” Dani proposes, index finger in the air, “and this is just an idea but hear me out — you could actually take me to one of these fancy dates and then I wouldn’t have to lie so you can win an imaginary contest that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things?”

Jamie pouts.

Dani bites her lip.

Jamie pouts harder.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, Poppins,” Jamie says, wrapping her arms around her from behind, and maneuvering her until she’s facing what looks like a blanket spread out in the clearing, held down by a picnic basket, a portable stereo set and bottle of—

“Is that—”

“No,” Jamie cuts in, “that is port wine. That’s what you get when you date the gardener instead of someone way, way more accomplished.”

Dani turns around, kisses Jamie until light brighter than the moon bursts beneath her eyelids, until the world shrinks to just the two of them — to two women wrapped around, into each other, to the texture of Jamie’s hair between her fingertips, the satin feel of her lips sliding against hers and the sound of her heavy breathing in the night air. Her heart skips in her chest, light as a petal floating in the wind, and she imagines it landing, very gently, in the palm of Jamie’s hand.

“I couldn’t date anyone more accomplished than the world’s best girlfriend.”

Jamie’s smile is gradual and the most enchanting thing she has ever seen.

*****

“Say what you want, but at least Hannah and I give each other distance and space.”

“Hey!” Jamie protests. “We have a very healthy relationship. We give each other loads of space.”

“You’re literally sitting on her lap.”

“While I could be making out with her,” Jamie says, like that makes it any better. “You’ll find that this is plenty space.”

Hannah sighs.

*****

The gifts are of various sizes, an everyday testament to the lengths people are willing to go to just to prove a point. They slowly take over the house, until one can’t run around a corner for fear of bumping into a large gift-wrapped box waiting to be opened by either of the two women. Flora takes it in stride, calling everyone to wherever she finds a gift lying in stealth. It’s come to a point where Dani isn’t even carefully opening the wrapping paper, like she’s been doing her entire life; she just rips it over and prepares to behold the magic.

(She will say this, though: all the gifts are things she wants, or needs. Jamie might be ridiculous, but she knows her)  

All in all, it is with resignation that Dani walks to the front hall when Miles starts screaming about how everyone in the house is out to get his toe.

Owen stands beside Hannah as she kneels to pick up a tiny, but heavy looking box.

“Open it—”

“am opening it—”

“-quicker!”

“Owen!”

She gasps when she opens it, though, and Dani walks forward for a closer look at the beautiful necklace that nestles inside the velvet box.

“Owen,” Hannah sighs, her fingers hovering over the pendant like she’s afraid of touching it. “You shouldn’t have.”

He kisses her cheek. “Only the best for you, my love.”

Dani leaves them looking into each other’s eyes, only for her attention to immediately go to the door, where Jamie’s just walked in, holding a large cardboard box.

“Oh?” she smiles, arms still juggling the box. “What have we got here?”

Owen takes a deep breath, shoots the box a suspicious look. “What’s in that?”

“Oh, this?” Jamie asks, faux casually. “It’s — ah, nothing. Nothing really. Just a little thing for Dani here.”

Dani thinks Oh dear.

“You should open it,” he says.

“Eh,” Jamie replies, and Dani can see she’s trying very, very hard to not laugh out loud. “It’s really—”

“—open it—”

“—no, really—”

“Jamie!”

Jamie keeps it down, looks at all of them triumphantly. “I mean, alright. If you insist.”

Dani sits in front of the box and examines it suspiciously.

“It can hardly punch you in the face, dear,” Hannah says.

The box isn’t closed tightly, the top flaps just placed on top of each other. She opens them, rises up on her knees to look inside—

—and then Flora, who’s also been curiously looking, squeals. “It’s a kitten!”

And so it is. A tiny black thing, it had been snoozing on top of a cushion placed inside the box, and now unceremoniously woken up by noise, looks up at her, and meows indignantly.

(It would not be an exaggeration to say that Dani falls in love at first sight)

She picks it (a her, upon closer examination) up from the makeshift bed, and holds her up at eyelevel. “Baby,” she says, “I adore you.”

“Why, thank you,” she hears Jamie’s voice from behind her somewhere.

“Pretty sure she was talking to the cat.”

“Miles, you little shit.”

She leans in, nuzzles its soft fur for a second, then looks back up at Jamie. “Thank you,” she says.

Jamie’s eyes are soft. “Anytime, darling.”

*****

“We’ve never seen Jamie like this, you know?” Hannah says one night, out of the blue, as she’s cleaning up after dinner. Dani sits at the dining table, having been expressly forbidden from touching any instrument that might result in her contaminating the food. Owen and Jaime are outside getting drunk by the campfire. She looks up sharply when Hannah starts talking.

“You mean super competitive?” she asks, dryly, even though she knows what Hannah’s talking about.

“You know what I mean,” Hannah smiles. “She’s…. smitten. Charmed. Enchanted. Other adjectives I can’t quite think of right now.”

“I am all of those things,” she gushes, burying her head in her hands like an embarrassed schoolgirl. “I am…. smitten and charmed and enamored and other adjectives that I can’t think of right now.”

Hannah smiles indulgently when she finally looks at her through the gaps between her fingers.  

“She’s better with you too,” she continues. “She’s dated before, of course she has but, oh, I don’t know how to say it.”

Dani rests her face on her palm, listens quietly.

“She’s not proud of who she’s been,” Hannah continues. “I think — finally, she likes who she is when she’s with you. And it is such a glory to see. She’s—”

“Content?”

“Happy.”

That’s all Dani wants, really. For Jamie to be happy. For however long she can love her, for however long she can take care of her, she wants Jaime to be perfectly, dazzlingly happy. That’s an overwhelming need that rises in her every time she witnesses her girlfriend in a quiet moment, trimming the hedges, watering the lawn or simply just lost in thought — that no matter what happens tomorrow, she wants her to be happy for that one moment in time.  

(Part of her knows that she keeps focusing on the end because things tend to go wrong around her so often that it’s never been safe to rest and breathe easy, to think Yes, this is it, this is where I was supposed to end up. But she wants. She wants to believe, so badly, that this will last forever, that thirty years down the line, she would still be talking to Hannah about how crazy Jamie drives her every day.)

And she would do anything to make that happen.

“Is,” she wonders out loud, hesitates a bit, “is this what love is?”

Hannah passes behind her to pat her head, and Dani doesn’t even need the answer to her own question.

*****

She hears them from quite a distance away.

(Then again, she supposes it is impossible to not hear a man and a woman, both grown, both employed in respectable professions when they’re yelling about how much they love their respective girlfriends at a roaring fire)

She stops when she almost reaches them, curious to hear what they’ve been talking about.

“I love her,” she hears Owen announce as he raises his bottle in the air to emphasize the point.

“I know you do,” Jamie reassures him, equally as loud and passionate. “You love her like I love—”

“—Dani—”

“—yes! Dani is her name. The most perfect name in the world.”

Owen laughs in response.

“It’s true!” Jamie pokes a finger into his shoulder. “Like her mother’s a bitch but she did one thing right. She gave her daughter the prettiest name in the world.”

“You just think the name is pretty because you think the daughter is pretty,” Owen informs her.

“Oh.”

Jamie falls silent for a while, apparently contemplating the meaning of life, and Dani wants to laugh, but there’s another pressing need to hug her girlfriend that’s stronger.

“You wanna see something?” Owen asks, after a while of silence, then digs in his pocket when Jaime nods.

Dani cannot make it out from this far, but the way his hand moves, she does have an inkling of what it is.

Jamie gasps, nearly dropping her bottle. “When?”

“I don’t know!” he groans. “I’m — waiting.”

“My buddy’s getting married!” Jamie shouts, and is immediately shushed by her companion, both of them subsequently dissolving into giggles. “I’m so happy. I’m so — just — so—”

“Wha — why are you crying!”

“Because you’re getting married!” Jamie says, and yeah, Dani can hear the tears in her voice. “And because—”

“What?”

“—because that makes you the best boyfriend now!”

Dani releases the longest sigh.

*****

“Shush!” Dani warns. “You’ll wake the cat.”

Jaime blinks wide at her, and nods rapidly. “I don’t wanna wake the cat,” she says, very seriously. And then looks quickly over to where Banana is sleeping by the window and her face melts into what Dani can only describe as sheer devotion.

“She’s so cute!”

Dani gently nudges her in the direction of the bed, makes her sit down.

“You’re so cute!” Jaime says again, now looking right at her. “Almost as cute as the cat.”

“Thank you,” Dani says, enormously cheered up by this version of her girlfriend. Drunk Jamie is a riot.

“I mean it!” Jaime allows her shirt to be pulled off her frame and then lets Dani maneuver her into a more comfortable one. “Dani. Dani. Dani. Dan—”

“Yes, baby?”

“Dani,” Jaime blinks at her, solemnly. “We should bang.”

(Even Dani, who’s the self-proclaimed expert in ridiculous girlfriend shenanigans, has no response to this)

Dani cannot help the laugh that escapes her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Bang. We should bang.”

“Maybe not now.”

“Yes, now!”

She pushes Jaime until she’s lying down, and staring up at her.  

“You should kiss me,” Jaime starts whining again, once her legs are aligned and she’s clearly found more pressing concerns.

Dani bends over her, kisses her forehead. Then on her closed eyelids, on both her cheeks and plants a final one on her nose.

“That okay?”

Jaime nods with her eyes still closed, and lips curled up in the widest smile. Dani brushes some hair off o her forehead, and prepares to get off the bed to change into something comfortable.

“Wait,” Jaime says, her hand fisted into Dani’s shirt. “Why are you leaving me?”

The words find their way into Dani’s heart via the hands fisted into her shirt just above her chest, wrap their arms around her heart, and press. Words are strange animals, aren’t they? Hurting and pulling and pushing and twisting until their owners are almost as battered and bruised as they themselves are. Dani searches for the right ones.

“I’m right here.”

“Sure?”

She kicks off her shoes, awkwardly, brings up her arm until she’s holding Jamie. “Yes, sweetheart.”

A minute later, Jamie will ruin the moment by sleepily declaring that she is, in fact, the winner of the best boyfriend contest. Dani will let it pass. You can’t have everything, after all.