#if you do be shouting vine references

[whatarethooseshuri]

… so yesterday my sibling blew me up and I think I’m a demon now.

that’s ok, as long as you don’t destroy the world:)

[littlejuicebox]

Camping for beginners.

Written to sort of kill two birds with one stone. @coyote-mint this isn't Astarion soothing a baby, but it is Astarion giving Tav a break as she goes on a little, well-deserved vacation! @davenswitcher I also worked your storybook prompt in! Hope you two both like it; thanks for prompts! Special thanks to @chickywickers for helping me name the twins. :)

Summary: Tav/You are out of town and Astarion is full-time daddy duty without the nanny. In an effort to keep three children entertained, he decides upon camping in the backyard.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, parenthood, children, dadstarion, the mildest reference to sexual encounters, mildest reference to bg3 events and trauma

Word Count: 2.5K

*

Astarion is pitching a tent in the ground, cursing to himself every few moments as he goes about the task. Once upon a time, he’d had Tav or Karlach… or perhaps even an unenthusiastic Lae’zel or an overenthusiastic Wyll to assist him.

But now, it’s him and three little boys in the midsummer heat. Tav won’t be back until tomorrow morning, after a week away visiting Shadowheart and Lae’zel in the Dalelands. It’s a sunny Sunday, and Winifred, the nanny, has weekends off.

So it’s all up to papa for a day longer. He’s sweaty, tired, and pulling from deeply hidden reserves of patience he didn’t know he had until now.

Astarion thinks he has never missed his wife more in all their time together. One more day. He can do it, right?

“Gale, hold this for me,” The frustrated father directs, guiding his ever-obedient and sometimes now shockingly stoic six year old to one of the tent poles.

Gale nods and follows his father’s instructions as his little brothers scream and run around the orchard with toy swords, wreaking havoc as usual. The younger Ancunins are a tornado of scraped knees and sticky fingers at any given time. Their parents consider it a win if the twins make it an entire day without breaking something.

Evander and Finnick are naturally more wild and unruly than their older brother ever was. Astarion is painfully aware that the streak of disobedience in the duo comes entirely from him. The twins test his patience far more than Gale ever had, and in the absence of their mother, the two have become almost completely unhinged.

Tav is the twin wrangler; they are softer with her – but then, she’s always had a way with the more surly, roguish types. Her unique charm somehow soothes them into compliance. Astarion lacks the same skills and is, unfortunately, paying for it this weekend.

The younger boys are straying too far away for Astarion’s liking, and as he hammers a stake into the orchard’s fertile earth, he shouts at the twins, “Evan and Finn, you two had better get your little behinds back—“

He stops and sighs; the twins are too interested in their make-believe and paying absolutely no mind to their father and his chastisement. Astarion resumes his task and without even looking back up at his eldest asks, “Gale, will you please contain them for a moment until we finish this?”

A lazy wave of Gale’s hand, reminiscent of Astarion’s own flippant movements when he speaks, and vines spring from the earth. The tendrils wrap around Evander and Finnick, holding each of them by the torso. A second tendril springs to life from the soil and wraps around the brothers, pulling them into its embrace just as the first tendril recedes. This process continues in a domino effect until the twins are but a few feet from their father, struggling against the vines and expressing their displeasure with grunts and screams.

Astarion lifts his head from the stake and watches the scene in a mixture of amusement and amazement, and when the boys are sufficiently contained he turns to smile at his eldest, “You really are exceptionally talented, you know that, don’t you?”

Gale smiles and nods before he looks down at the ground, unable to meet his father’s proud gaze as he says, “I know, Papa.”

The eldest Ancunin boy struggled in school all last year. His fragile confidence took a huge tumble, which his parents were working to restore to the best of their ability. Gale always required softer hands in comparison to his brothers; Astarion was still learning how to navigate this difference.

“Let go!” The twins shout in unison, short limbs flailing against the vines gently containing their three year old bodies.

They look like mirror images of one another, down to the dark wavy hair parted in opposite directions and vitiligo patches splattered across opposing green eyes. Evander’s is on his left eye, Finnick’s is on his right. Together, they look like a Rorschach Test.

Astarion’s patience is gone; part of him considers leaving the duo trapped in the vines until Tav returns. He narrows his eyes at the youngest Ancunins, pointing accusingly at them with the hammer, “You two asked to camp outside, and after very insistent pleas, I agreed. So if you don’t want daddy to pack up this entire thing and take you both back into the house, you are to stand there. Quietly.”

Finnick, the younger of the twins by a few minutes, wrinkles his nose in displeasure at his father, “Mean, daddy.”

A slow, long exhale escapes Astarion as he stares at the surly three year old with furrowed brows.

“My child, you have no idea how mean I can be, now hush so that your brother and I can finish this,” Astarion instructs, and then returns to work pitching the tent, ignoring the frustrated whines and protests from the twins all the while.

*

Around the small campfire, the Ancunin boys roast marshmallows on sticks as Astarion reads a tale from one of their story books. Apple is, as almost always, curled up next to Gale. The eldest Ancunin boy sneaks the dog marshmallows and his father pretends not to notice.

If that’s the most rebellious Gale ever is, so be it. The twins are a different challenge, entirely.

The story is all about slaying dragons, knights in shining armor, damsels in distress… the usual. The topic is exceptionally boring to the father of three, given all he’s experienced, but he’s gotten used to pretending this ridiculous droll is highly entertaining and throwing his voice for his kids amusement. 

And, plus, if the twins are entertained, they aren’t causing mayhem, which is all Astarion can ask for tonight. Tav will be back in less than twelve hours, he reminds himself.

All hail his wife, Lady Ancunin, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, and the hero of this household. 

This weekend has Astarion regretting any moment he might have taken her for granted or not shown enough appreciation for her.

While the father of three continues to read, a sudden rustling at the edge of the orchard catches everyone’s attention. The three-year-old twins instantly cling to one another in fear and Apple’s head snaps up to peer towards the possible threat.

“Werewolf!” Evander shouts.

“Vampire!” Finnick continues.

Gale giggles and shakes his head, “No… it’s a raccoon. I can hear her. She smells the food.” 

Astarion’s nose wrinkles in distaste as his silver-haired son takes his plate of leftovers and meanders toward the edge of the property, but he chooses to remain silent and let his son feed the vile creature. With Gale around, it’s a wonder they aren’t overrun with vermin and rodents galore. Though, the feral cat colony the little boy single-handedly created is likely keeping the other animal population at bay.

Gale places the plate down, whispers something to the raccoon, and returns back to the campfire, nestling his head into Apple’s side as he settles back into the dirt.

“Papa… there aren’t really vampires and werewolves out in the woods… right?” Gale questions, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead in concern as he thinks.

“Perhaps not in the woods right here…” Astarion responds, trying to figure out how to be honest with his children without frightening them entirely, “But they do exist… I’ve killed a vampire before.” 

At this the two younger Ancunins gasp and Gale shoots back up to sitting, his green eyes widened in shock as he asks, “You’ve killed a vampire before?” 

Astarion chuckles. Sometimes he forgets how little his children truly know of his past. He shuts the storybook in his lap closed and nods, a small smile crossing his face, “I have. Your mother helped me. Would you three like to hear about it?”

“Yes!” The boys all shout in unison, all coming as close to their father as they possibly can.

“Very well,” Astarion agrees with a grin, and then he launches into the tale of fighting Cazador, mindful to keep everything as child-friendly as a gorey battle can possibly be and leaving his enslavement entirely out of the picture. The children will learn about that later, he thinks, but now is not the time.

The boys are wholly captivated by their father’s tale until the twins begin to drift off, slumped against one another. Gale is the only one still awake when his father finishes the story. There is a moment of quiet at the end as his eldest reflects upon all that was revealed to him.

“Were you scared, Papa?” He finally asks, his fingers threading into the curled fur on Apple’s back.

Astarion nods in response, “Of course, Gale. But… I think you cannot be brave if you don’t feel a bit scared, first.”

The eldest Ancunin boy sighs. He has feelings about this that he has not yet been able to put into words. Gale’s general kindness and gentleness is such a stark contrast to many of the kids at school; he’d gotten himself into more than one scuffle. He was perceived as an easy target, because he knew better than to use his powers on the other children. As a result, Gale often simply let the other children attack him, not ever wanting to hurt anyone, even if it was in his defense.

Astarion had, more than once this year, gone to the school and threatened to retract their donations if the issue was not resolved. One of the child’s parents had been hit with a lawsuit after Gale returned home with a black eye. But come the start of next term, there was a strong chance this behavior would continue.

He and Tav had both lost countless hours of sleep over this very topic.

“How do you know…” Gale starts, and then stops with another sigh, staring up at the stars as he tries to find his words, “How do you know when it’s time to fight back?”

There is a moment of silence as the older elf considers this question. How do you know?

“If someone doesn’t listen when you ask them to stop, that is how you know, Gale,” Astarion responds, finally, his hand coming to ruffle the curls upon his eldest’s head, “And if someone is hurting you or someone you care about, and they refuse to stop when you ask them the first time, that is all the permission you need. Your mother and I will always agree with you if you are protecting yourself or your brothers in defense, little prince.” 

The silver-haired six year old nods with a yawn, his fingers still curled in Apple’s fur.

“Now come on, let’s get you and your brothers inside the tent for the night,” Astarion directs, picking up one of the twins and holding the flap open for Gale. He gets the two boys settled before returning to retrieve the remaining one and calling for Apple to join all four Ancunins. 

The fire is left glowing its final embers as the men all drift off to sleep.

*

You find the tent in the orchard after returning to a house filled with only your regular employees. Winifred, the nanny, and Pascal, the steward, are both clueless as to where your children and husband are this morning. When you enter the backyard, a snuffed fire and Apple keeping guard outside the tent not more than ten feet from the manor signal you’ve found your family.

You crouch and open the tent flap, only to be greeted by an adorable image. Astarion is on his back, one twin clinging to each leg and Gale nestled into the crook of his arm. All four of the Ancunins are still sleeping, seemingly exhausted from the night before. 

“Good morning, my little loves,” You greet in a soft murmur.

Astarion is the first to open his eyes and smile at you as he sits up, expertly maneuvering himself around three sets of other limbs.

“Welcome back home, Tav. We missed you. I think that perhaps I missed you the most.” Astarion greets, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss upon your cheek and grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze.

“No, me!” Evander protests through a yawn as he scrambles to wrap his arm around your arm.

“No, me!” Finnick echos, sitting up and pushing a cluster of curls from his face to grin at you.

“I think it was me, mama.” Gale calls softly, his head still resting upon the pillow, eyes still shut.

You chuckle in response to this ridiculous argument before standing and lifting the tent flap entirely, “I missed you all, too. Alright everyone, let’s get inside for breakfast. I’m making pancakes.” 

A clamor of excitement from the Ancunin boys fills the orchard as your children exit the tent and begin the short journey back toward the house. Apple is running after them, her tail wagging excitedly because she knows she will get whatever leftovers the boys cannot finish.

As the children disappear into the house, Astarion grabs your hand with a mischievous grin, insistently pulling you into the tent with him.

“My love, the boys–” You begin to protest, but your husband cuts you off with a kiss pressed against your lips as his nimble fingers quickly shut the tent behind you.

“It’s Monday, surely Winifred is already in, hm?” Astarion questions, his mouth already trailing kisses along your neck, “She can handle the trio for… oh, twenty minutes?”

You gasp as the elf’s fingers slowly trail under your dress and up your thighs to grip at the flesh around your hips. And then you turn to meet your husband’s face as he pulls you into a kiss. Being in the tent reminds you of old times out on the road, all those years ago, and you quickly fall under the Astarion’s spell, just as you had back then.

Your husband breaks away from the kiss and begins to pull your dress over your head. He grins and roams his eyes over your body when you’re left in nothing but your underclothes, “And… not that it’s a competition, little love. But I maintain I missed you the most.” 

He doesn’t leave room for response as he pounces upon you, eager to show you just how much he missed you this past week. 

Less than twenty minutes later, the twins are back outside the tent, screaming impatiently for pancakes as an apologetic Winifred calls after them from the porch. Astarion groans and is forced to throw his trousers back on with a whispered, “We’ll finish this later tonight, hm?”

And then he’s climbing out of the tent, corralling the two younger Ancunin’s back into the house and buying you a moment to throw your dress back on before exiting yourself. 

When you enter the kitchen, Astarion has thrown his crumpled shirt back on and is already starting the pancake batter among a chatter of excited storytelling from the boys. Winifred is forcing the twins to wash their hands as they speak about the raccoon they thought was a monster and Gale asks you to confirm the two of you really killed a vampire.

At this last part you shoot Astarion a questioning look and he shrugs while flashing you an apologetic smile. He looks like the twins when they’ve been caught breaking something. You know you’ll have to follow up later, but for now, all you want to do is focus on your little loves.

They all missed you, and you missed them just as much. Perhaps more.

But it’s not a competition.

[yoongle--boongle--pie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 8

A/N: This one is lore heavy yall, unwind your red string, grab a notebook and a drink. I am trying to find a 'make-your-own' family tree website that works better on mobile for people to reference as we get DEEP into this stuff so if that's been an issue for yall-don't worry.

I'll see you on the other side~ Delyn

Chapter playlist- Youtube

Chapter Playlist- Spotify

Series Masterlist

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Jungkook turned to her and shouted something unintelligible, but pointed with his eyes at her body below them. The pounding on the door egged her on, as she crawled over herself to lay down in the same position. Even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to find her vines. They were weak, and spindly–but they were there. Persistent. Y/n latched herself onto their image and pulled herself towards the withering seedling with all she had left.

She must be drowning, she thought. The water poured from her mouth in heaving coughs, spilling out from her lungs and stomach. Each time she thought she had gotten it all, a violent wave would pummel her, knocking her out of focus and keeping her in a vice grip from where the back of her head was tethered in place. Something tugged on her skull from behind her eyes, leaving her entire body numb. There was no more water, and no more knocking. There was nothing.

Y/n lurched forward, barely missing a collision with Yoongi’s forehead.  

“Holy shit-” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Give her some space!”

Everyone was talking over one another, and Y/n couldn’t seem to focus in on any of them. Her vision was completely gone: Black and void like the day prior. She let herself be pushed backwards by three sets of hands against Yoongi’s thighs where she had just sprung from. Her deprivation of sense leaving her feeling more vulnerable than ever against who she had just escaped from.

“H-help p-please.” The words slurred out from Y/n’s mouth in a much more bumbling manner than she intended. It felt foreign already–moving her tongue and her jaw. She had to refamiliarize herself with what it took to move her actual body. Y/n left her eyes open and blinking. Unseeing. Every muscle in her body tensed at the fright inducing feeling of having to trust her friends to take care of her entirely–because she was as useful as a sack of flour at the moment. 

Jungkook brought their conjoined hands up to his cheek, and she felt the ghost of his lips brush across her knuckles as he murmured unintelligible words of reassurance against her skin. Yoongi kept his hands against her cheeks, smoothing over the skin with his thumbs. A cloud of warmth encased her head, and the familiar feeling of Yoongi’s sweaty forehead pressing against her own brought her senses down from their heightened state, their incessant buzzing in her head calming to a low hum. Long tresses of his hair tickled her skin, and she wrinkled her nose at them. After a few moments filled with a cacophony of their conjoined labored breathing, Yoongi lifted his head from where it had come to rest to check in on her current state. 

Light eroded at  the edges of her vision, blotching reality back into place. Out of focus images of her three friends huddled over her blurred into view, and she let her body go lax in Yoongi’s hold. Y/n waited for her vision to completely settle, the images coming into sharper focus with each passing second. Y/n couldn’t help it but let a sodden smile grace her features, her cheeks wet from where her real body must’ve imitated her spiritual tears.

 “Hi.”  She croaked, finding her voice again. 

“Fucking hell Y/n.” Yoongi ran a hand through his already tousled hair and brought it back down to rub pacifying circles against her cheeks. 

Y/n tried to pull herself upright, but barely made it six inches off the ground before collapsing backwards into them again. She mumbled out a few apologies, feeling ashamed at how helpless she seemed at the moment. Y/n moved to try again, lurching herself forwards with a grunt. Yoongi’s arms came around her shoulders and his hands clasped over her middle to keep her in place.

His words came out in pants. “Stop apologizing and just relax for a minute Goddamnit.” 

Y/n let herself be restrained. She didn’t have it in her to feel awkward or embarrassed about how close everyone was or how each of them insisted on touching some part of her skin: her hand still locked within Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s palm securely pressing onto the top of her thigh. If anything, Y/n didn’t want to admit just how much she relished in the feeling. The warmth of their touch being a tether to her unmoored mind, reassuring her without words that she was back in her body surrounded by the people she felt the safest with. Despite welcoming the moment of respite from the conflict she faced only moments prior, she couldn’t just lay here after what she had seen. It was her job to fill them in. 

“I saw…” Y/n swallowed one of her gasping breaths “so many of them. It was like I was just walking through the house but it was all smokey, and you guys felt like the ghosts while the ghosts felt like the real people. I saw my Oma–she helped me get away from them.” The tears sprang to her eyes from the memory of seeing her again, but she swallowed them down and out of reach. She needed to focus. 

“Get you away from whom?” Namjoon spoke first, sensing her turmoil and doing his best to guide their conversation forward.

“I don’t know. Not all of them anyways. There was this man who was absolutely heinous looking. Pretty much all muscle and bone.” Y/n closed her eyes to think of any signifiers to go off of, racking her brain of everything she could remember him saying. “He was stalking his brother–but the second brother didn’t sound anything like the first–he sounded like my Oma. Normal. Whereas the ugly one sounded like he had choked on the fumes from Hell’s gate.” 

“Did you recognize either of them?” Namjoon prodded further, ignoring her attempts at misplaced humor. 

Y/n shook her head, her breathing finally starting to find its normal rhythm. “No. The not demonic one spoke exclusively in German which makes me think maybe brothers from one of the first two generations. Yet he knew my name, which makes me think more recent.” 

“That doesn’t really matter in the spirit realm.” Yoongi’s voice scratched out from his vocal chords and into their discussion. “Every spirit on these grounds probably knows your name. There are people wandering these halls that have passed from this decade, intermingling with people from over a century ago. Family talks.” 

Y/n looked up at Yoongi as he spoke, his head bowed to look down at her with a clouded expression. He flicked the tip of his tongue to slide pensively across his lower lip as he weighed his next words on them. 

“Did you see anyone else?” Yoongi seemed to settle on that. 

“Patti, the other twin, and a shadow figure that crawled.” She held up a hand to tick them off. “They were who I was running from, and who had been–” Y/n jerked up with a gasp, making Yoongi recoil back with mutter profanities to avoid smashing into one another for the second time. 

Y/n let her eyes rake across the door in a frenzy. As if her brain was still computing that it wasn’t a dream, it dawned on her that only mere seconds had passed since her struggle with the ghosts. 

“Are they still there?” She squeezed Jungkook’s hand and jerked her chin in the direction of the door. 

Jungkook let his irises be consumed with black, and lowered his head to peek under the door frame. They waited with baited breath for him to make his assessment, with him even going as far as to inch towards the door to get a better look in the gap where the door hung above the floorboards. Jungkook funneled a breath from his nostrils and straightened his spine, returning to her side. Only this time he did not face her completely, keeping his body at angle to see both her and the door. 

“Yes.” 

Y/n and the two men next to her all felt the effects of his words: Namjoon’s fingers digging into the meat of her leg and Yoongi rolling off of his knees and to his feet in a low crouch. 

“What else did they say to you, Y/n? Did anything else stick out to you while you were in there?” Yoongi hurriedly poured through her brown paper bag, shoving it to the side when he had found what he was searching for and moving on to his left open chest. He was doing his best to retain a composed facade, but his set jaw and scrunched shoulders gave him away. 

Y/n didn’t take her eyes away from what any other day she would have taken as an unsuspecting door. “Oma said that he was coming for them, but shit hit the fan harder than it already had before she could tell me more.” 

Namjoon made a sound in the back of his throat. “He?” 

Their eyes met in mutual understanding. “Yes. Similar to what Heidi had said in the kitchen.” 

“Do you think it could be your dad? You had said you had thought he was the one she was referring to.” 

Y/n shrugged in Namjoon’s direction. “I don’t know. She had said ‘they first’. Maybe there is more than one person behind it.” Y/n sucked in a breath. “Maybe my mom is the other.” 

Yoongi stood abruptly, a handmade bundle gripped in his fist and a flashlight in the other. The sudden smell of citrus, rosemary, and frankincense invading her senses. He stomped to the door and without hesitation swung it open, turning on the flashlight and shining it in all directions out into the hallway from where he kept his feet planted within the room.

“No offense, but what does a flashlight do?” Namjoon gave a pointed eyebrow raise in Yoongi’s direction. 

“It’s working.” Jungkook answered for him, his brows furrowing and his eyes darting to follow things Y/n could no longer see. 

“Witchcraft doesn’t have to be complicated or traditional all of the time.” Yoongi huffed, and flickered the flashlight off. He made a point to spit out onto the hallway floor, and shoved the door back into place again. “It’s anointed. Works as a direct beam of warding when it would draw too much attention from the neighbors rather than dropping a smoke bomb and risking someone sticking their nose in our business. They can’t stand to be caught in the light from it.” 

“So it’s like a paranormal lightsaber?” Y/n felt a small smirk wiggle up onto her face. 

Yoongi slipped the flashlight into his pocket and returned to their huddle, shooting her a disapproving look. Despite the dry tone he spoke with, the corners of his mouth turned up in the slightest. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.” He sat down on the edge of his bed so she could look directly up at him. “We should make a game plan for tonight. Whoever was involved probably doesn’t have the energy to manifest themselves into our dimension anytime soon–but that doesn’t rule out the dozens of others.” 

“Whatever our game plan is, I vote that it should include each of us getting our own lightsaber.” Y/n leant back onto the hand that wasn’t still entrapped in Jungkook’s. 

“I second that.” Namjoon nodded in agreement. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “The two of you can’t even see anything to know where to point it. It totally wouldn’t make your mom suspicious if you both started lighting up like fireflies at the dinner table.” 

“Uh-actually I’ve seen plenty of ghosts now. It would be efficient if I’m ever caught off guard again when I’m alone.” Y/n held up a finger as she corrected him. 

Yoongi scoffed, his eyes filled with sass. “The thing about that is you won’t be alone anymore. Not unless you’re in your room. Especially not after tonight.”

“Ugh–not you too. I thought you had my back about being independent.” 

“I think it’d be good for us all to have something like that.” Jungkook cut in, his eyes having never left the flash light peeking from the pocket of Yoongi’s pants. His face was colored a shade akin to hope–wistful even.

Yoongi paused, taking his time to survey Jungkook’s expression. 

“Okay.” Yoongi relented, his voice softer than before. “I don’t have any more. We will have to get more flashlights so I can make them. We can go into town to get a set of pocket sized ones.” yoongi gained more confidence in his plan, decided on it without any further external input.  “Everyone will carry one on them, and keep one in their rooms.” He held his arm up to fiddle with the watch on his wrist. “Wanna go now?” 

The rest of the three traded looks of uncertainty. 

“Right now? It’s closing in on 10pm…” Namjoon couldn’t hide the incredulous look erupting on his features. 

“Walmart doesn’t care.” Yoongi shrugged. “And neither will the ghosts.” 

_________________________________________

Walmart was nearly empty with less than an hour left until close. The disgruntled stares of each employee they had passed since the entrance, and the hovering late teen electronics employee didn’t seem to phase Yoongi as he strutted ahead of them. To any onlookers they probably looked like a group of college seniors doing a midnight snack run: all of them donned in comfy clothes, scraggly and tired as they waddled through the isles towards the tools section. 

Yoongi was comparing flashlight specs with Namjoon, the two far too busy bickering about which one had the best battery life to notice when Y/n nudged Jungkook's side. He made a small noise of surprise, and tilted his head with rounded eyes to regard her in a silent question. Y/n gestured with her finger for him to bring his ear down closer to her mouth, and he did so without question. 

“You wanna come pick out a few snacks with me? My treat.” She whispered up to him and beamed innocently up in his direction. He didn’t verbally answer, yet didn’t resist when she slipped her hand into his to tug him in the direction of the cold foods. 

Y/n never felt the urge to drop his hand as they perused the novelty ice cream pints, the weight of his hand in hers becoming second nature. But alas, she had to let go in the name of ice cream. Y/n held two flavors in her hand, having trouble deciding which to go for. She spun around to face Jungkook, who was staring intently at an unknown flavor behind the frosty freezer doors. 

“Which do you think I should get? Cookie dough or white chocolate raspberry?” Y/n held both small containers up for him to see the brightly colored descriptions, his face impassive as he scanned the labels. He held up an inked finger and poked at the one in her right hand. 

 “Cookie dough. That’s your favorite.” 

Y/n hummed, placing the white chocolate flavor back into the freezer. “After all these years you still remember that.” She shook her head with a chuckle. He let out an offended scoff.

“Of course I do.” Jungkook stated matter-of-factly. “I remember everything about you.” 

Y/n let the freezer door slam closed on its own and moved onto the next door, hovering a hand over it. “Everything?” 

Jungkook nodded, and spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to him. 

“Everything.” 

Her breath hitched, and she left her hand clench and unclench on the freezer handle. His eyes were sincere, not a single cloud of doubt or humor speckling his russet irises. Y/n felt a flush creep up her neck, and her ears warm in conjunction to it. Jungkook cocked his head and one of his brows twitched in her direction. 

“Are you alright? Your face is turning red.” Even if they had made strides, he was still as blunt as ever. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a little tired, that's all.” She jerked the next freezer door open and pulled out another pint. “I think I might get two, actually.” 

Y/n emerged with a container so cold it made her fingertips numb, and held it up for him to see. She watched his eyes practically glaze over as they took in the picture, before jumping up to meet hers again. 

“You like mint ice cream now?” Shock made itself evident in his tone. 

She gave him a coy smile and shrugged her shoulders. “It grew on me once I learned the difference between mint species.”  

A grin bloomed across his face. “Finally- someone understands!” He took the container from her hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot in excitement. “It doesn’t taste like toothpaste. If it does the brand-”

“-Used the wrong kind of mint.” Y/n finished for him and pushed the freezer door shut with her hip. “Spearmint is toothpaste and gum. Peppermint is for desserts. It’s why candy canes and peppermint bark don’t burn my tongue like mouthwash or toothpaste. It’s smoother and sweeter.” 

Jungkook couldn’t hide his joy as he juggled the container from one hand to the other, sending her a lopsided grin that made her heart throb. “Mint ice cream is my favorite.” 

“I know. I remember stuff about you too.” Y/n started out of the cold aisle without checking if he was following. She didn’t feel like being called out on the flustered state he put her in again with something as effortless as a smile. 

Y/n heard the squeak of his sneakers on the tile behind her as he took to a casual jog to catch up. 

“Your cheeks are still red.” 

Of course she could never run from his observant eyes. Y/n quickened her pace and took a sharp turn into the snack aisle with him hot on her heels. They barely made it halfway down the chip section before Yoongi’s voice rang out from the end they had just entered from. 

“I look away for two seconds and you guys scurry off without so much as a word.” He reprimanded as he ambled down the aisle after them, Namjoon following in his footsteps with his hands in his pockets. 

“I wanted snacks. I just went through something traumatizing and deserve a special little treat.” Y/n pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Or am I not allowed to process my emotions in unhealthy ways anymore, Mr. Therapist?” 

Yoongi clicked his tongue.  “I didn’t say that. I would just like a heads up next time before you two lovebirds disappear on me.” 

Y/n blanched, and she could very well see steam evaporating from her face. “W-we’re not–It’s not-” She couldn’t stop tripping over her own tongue. An accusation like this had never bothered her before, as they had been anything but few and far between growing up. She didn’t understand why suddenly she felt the need to defend herself against them. 

“Okay dad. Will do.” Jungkook rolled his eyes with a tiny teasing smile, appearing to be unbothered by his comment. 

“Ugh–how can you eat that stuff?” Namjoon unknowingly saved Y/n from melting into an embarrassed puddle on the spot with his disgusted outburst. His face scrunched in on itself as he pointed to the tub of mint oreo ice cream in Jungkook’s hand. 

“Because it’s good.” Jungkook over-enunciated the last word and wagged his head in Namjoon’s direction. 

Namjoon choked on his own spit. “If you think eating toothpaste is appetizing.” 

“IT’S NOT SPEARMINT, JOON!” 

“It doesn’t taste like that!” 

Y/n and Jungkook’s voices overlapped in indignant fury, and Namjoon just about sucked his eyes into the back of his skull with how forcefully he rolled them. “Whatever.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your riveting debate, but you guys should finish up. The store closes soon and I still need to anoint these and head to bed before your dad takes to the catwalk tonight.” Yoongi brushed past the three of them, reaching up over Y/n’s head for a bag of flavored potato chips and continuing down the aisle. Namjoon followed suit, snatching a black bag of white cheddar popcorn on his way out. 

Y/n called after him, her voice dripping with sass. “How can you eat that stuff Joon? It tastes like spiced packing peanuts!” 

The man in question didn’t bother looking back, just held up a brief middle finger at her which she stuck her tongue at. Jungkook cackled next to her, making her heart swarm with butterflies that migrated into all of the nooks and crannies of her ribcage. All of these new feelings her friends were nurturing from within were making her head hurt, and left her feeling disoriented each time they made themselves known. Y/n would definitely have to get a handle on it asap.

Taking a moment to let his laughter die down, they returned to their grazing of the snack shelves; handpicking out a few different types of candy, and a few bags of chips to try. After making a brief pit stop at the chocolate milk and protein shake selection and loading up on anything that caught either of their eyes, they circled up to the self checkouts where Namjoon and Yoongi waited for them. They appeared to be discussing the new greenhouse set up when they approached, Namjoon describing the construction team’s reign of terror on his petunias and other assorted flowers they had yet to transplant. 

Yoongi gestured for the two younger arrivals to follow after him, still listening to Namjoon’s complaints as he scanned his items. When Y/n moved to step around him to the next open checkout, Yoongi waved a dismissive hand in her direction and plucked the items from their hands to add to his order. He held a hand up to shush each of her protests with a “I’m trying to listen”, and she knew to give up fighting. As the pile grew he made a few comments about them breaking his bank account, but the comments held no actual heat behind them if his pink tinted ears were anything to go by. She just tucked the thought of paying for their next outing into her back pocket as consolation. 

They all packed into the raised Jeep Wrangler with different levels of coordination: Yoongi hopped into the driver's seat with ease, and Jungkook took the elevated step up in stride.  Y/n managed to grunt her way into her seat but did much better than Namjoon had in comparison–him somehow managing to bump both his shin and his forehead on the vehicle’s exterior as he clambered into the passenger seat, earning a disbelieving stare from Yoongi and a bark of laughter from Y/n. 

The wind from the open windows blew off any of the residual energy from her paranormal encounter out into the open air. The balance of chilled night air coupled with the warmed seats and soft piano music tinkling through the speakers made Y/n’s head begin to loll onto her folded arms that leant on the lip of her open window. Her eyelids drooped, her ears unable to make out any words from the hushed conversation batting in between the front seats. Her eyes briefly caught Yoongi’s from the rearview mirror, and he sent her a minute smile before her eyes finally gave up their fight to stay open. 

“Y/n–come on. You’re starting to get cold.” Y/n stirred from her slumped position, her eyes blinking open. An out of focus Jungkook blurred into her vision from where he stood outside of the car, her door propped open and a gray plastic bag hanging from his wrist.  

“What?” She bleated, her eyes languidly dragging in her surroundings. The car was still rumbling beneath her, but it was unmoving out front of the estate. The lights blared down at her from the ceiling, and the driver side door was left open. “Sorry…” Y/n moved at a snail's pace to slide from her seat, swaying slightly when her feet hit the gravel. 

One of Jungkook’s hands snapped up to her upper arm to steady her, and she smiled gratefully up at him in thanks. Namjoon was nowhere to be seen, but Yoongi was skipping down the stairs from over Jungkook’s shoulder with empty hands. Y/n guessed that he had dropped the rest of the goods in the kitchen and his room while he waited for her to wake from her nap. She took staggering steps towards the steps of the estate; her grogginess depleting her already low coordination levels. 

Jungkook kept in time with her, a supportive hold on her arm for each hike of her foot on the stone steps and through the propped open doors. He guided the two of them towards the kitchen, tiptoeing through the doors and towards the heap of plastic bags on the counter. Jungkook finished the trek towards the center island and dug through the bags with relaxed movements, yet Y/n’s steps lingered near the entrance. She couldn’t help but let her gaze wander over to the doors that separated them from the dining room. The image of the shredded man looming on the other side of the wood made goosebumps track across her skin–her brain still having trouble computing that what she had seen had been happening in real time, and wasn’t a separate place that didn’t have any true impact on her. That they were lurking around in the rooms at all times on the other side in an exact mirror to how she and her friends were. Any of them could be in here with us right now…she stilled, her muscles tightening their hold to lock her joints in place. 

“What’s wrong?” The sound of plastic bags rustling subsided, Jungkook’s voice taking their place. 

Y/n whirled to look at him with wide eyes, his voice startling her from her thoughts. “Nothing!” She took tentative steps towards the island and away from the door, but her eyes kept being tugged back to the dining room no matter how hard she tried to wrench them away. “I was just…Thinking. That’s all.” 

She finally managed to make it to the island and place her palms that were still warm from sleep onto its cool surface. Jungkook gave her a once over, his face an open book that’s title must have something to do with doubt or disbelief. He brushed past her and towards the dining room door. 

“Jungkook! Wait-” 

He didn’t listen to Y/n’s protests, swinging open the door and holding it in place to give him a perfect view of the dining room. Jungkook’s coal-like eyes did a full sweep from corner to corner, before backtracking into the kitchen and letting the door swing shut behind him. 

“Nothing in there to worry about.” He breezed past her and returned to putting away the snacks they had acquired. As he passed, she saw the glint of the edge of Yoongi’s flashlight sticking up from his pocket. The sight helped to soothe some of her racing thoughts. 

Y/n followed close behind him with her arms hugging around her middle, not keen on keeping much space between them at the moment. “Nothing to worry about as in ‘empty’ or as in ‘something is there but they don’t seem to want to kill me’?” 

Jungkook lifted the mint oreo container from the bag and onto the island top, grabbing the cookie dough pint out from the same spot and piling it into an already overflowing freezer. She thought for a minute that he was going to ignore her question–but to her surprise–his mouth opened the moment he bent to pull two spoons from the drawer at his hip. 

“Nothing that wants to kill you.” Jungkook held a spoon out for her to take; a rounded one that she had stolen from the Adelaide as a child and declared as her favorite when she was six. 

Y/n pinched the spoon from his fingers and fidgeted with the handle, content with watching him pop the lid off of the ice cream and drop it to the countertop below while she deliberated on his response in her mind. Jungkook glided to spoon across the flat top, the pale green treat curling up and over into the perfect glistening bite that he raised to wrap his lips around. He let the bite sit in his mouth, raising an eyebrow her way when she didn’t move to dig in after him. 

“Who is it? In the dining room I mean.” Y/n mimicked his previous action, the smooth mound of soft creamy peppermint melting on her tongue and leaving chewy pieces of chocolate cookie where it had once been. 

Jungkook took another spoonful, letting the spoon hang from his mouth before removing it with a ‘pop’. “I’m not completely sure. I see them in the dining room a lot.” He carved his spoon into the carton once more. “From their habits I’d guess one of the o.g Kim’s.” 

Y/n let out a small gasp around her spoon. “Really? Wouldn’t you be able to recognize them then from all the pictures?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened naturally as his lips pulled around the spoon, reminiscent of a younger and much lankier version of himself. He dragged out an ambivalent hum. 

“Not necessarily. I can’t always tell who I’m looking at if they don’t interact with me.” 

“Huh. I thought you could just see everyone all of the time?” Y/n held her spoon over the opening of the carton, waiting for him to finish his strip before making her own.

Jungkook shook his head once. “No. I can only see them in detail if I’ve interacted with them a lot, or if they outwardly tell me who they are in some way or another. Or if…” His voice trailed off temporarily, but with a quick twitch of his head he pushed onwards. “Or if I was around when they died.” He swallowed forcefully, avoiding her eyes to poke around for a bigger cookie piece. “Otherwise they just look like shadowy figures or blurry faces.” 

“Oh.” 

They took turns digging into the ice cream, Y/n taking her time to think up her next question. He seemed to be in a talkative mood, and she wanted to seize the opportunity while it lasted. Y/n’s next bite had been unexpectedly soft, dribbling onto her chin and her shirt.

“How can you tell it’s one of the Kim’s then?” Her spoon made a clinking sound when she lowered it to the counter top. She spun around to look for a paper towel or napkin to dab at the mess she had made, finding her search unsuccessful. Jungkook reached behind him, tearing one off of the roll and passing it to her before he answered. 

“There’s two of them. They sit at the table late at night or early in the morning, and even though I can’t see what they are holding, I can tell from how they are moving that they are drinking a cup of tea together.” He cleared his throat, having swallowed his bite too quickly, “Kind of like how Mr. Kim and his dad had done before he passed.” 

Y/n waited to respond until she was sure she had scraped away the spot from her chin. “Even if you can piece that together, you still can’t see them yet?” 

“No. Because they haven’t interacted with me yet. They don’t seem to interact with anyone.” 

“Huh. Residual maybe.” 

Jungkook shrugged, scooping more ice cream into his mouth. 

Y/n picked up her spoon for her next mouthful, but this time Jungkook paused his scooping just as she had done before. It took her a couple bites to register that he was staring at her, his expression taking on the same unreadable nature it had earlier that day. Y/n slowed her motions, releasing the spoon from her mouth and putting it back on the counter next to where his hand rested with his own utensil twiddling between his fingers. Y/n brought the back of her hand up to her face to rub at her cheeks and chin, worried she had missed a spot. 

“Do I still have ice cream on my face?” She felt around, but found nothing out of place. 

“No you’re fine.” His eyes flickered down to her chin and back up to hers. He tore his attention from her face and back down to the ice cream in front of him. He brought his spoon up into the air to make another stab into the half empty container, holding it aloft just before he touched its surface. 

“Y/n, can I ask you some-”

Both of their heads whipped to the right when Namjoon made his less than coordinated appearance through the swinging dining room door. He beelined straight to the cabinets behind the two of them to rummage for his bag of popcorn, bulldozing through three separate cabinets until he found his target. Jungkook closed himself off, retracting back into his shell at his interruption. 

The interruption in question didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, popping open the black bag and leaning his elbows on the counter at the spot next to Y/n. Completely ignorant to his intrusion. He shook the bag, tucking his chin down to peer down his nose at its contents and taking a small handful and pouring it into his mouth. Each handful he took was unnecessarily noisy, the bag somehow managing to get louder each time his hand slid in to pull out more.  After his fifth handful Y/n couldn’t hold back the twitch of her eye.  

“Joon. Seriously.” 

“What? I’m not judging you for your abomination of a snack choice.” A piece fell from where he cradled a few in his palm, and he swept it into a pile onto the counter with his other hand. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how ridiculously loud you’re being at the moment.” 

Namjoon scoffed, tossing in another bunch of popcorn into his mouth and reaching down to dust the white powder onto his pants. “It’s an aluminum bag. They crinkle.” He swallowed his bite, and swept the collection of dropped pieces into a cupped hand to walk it to the trash can. “What–was I interrupting something?” 

Y/n simply shook her head, and tossed her spoon into the sink with a sigh. 

“What?” He walked back over to where Y/n and Jungkook stood. 

“First you kicked me earlier today and now you attack my ears with the ungodly loud sound of your dishonorable taste.” 

Namjoon jerked his chin back, ignoring the jab at his preferences. “I didn’t kick you–what are you talking about?” 

“Yes you did,” Y/n faltered in her step towards the freezer, “at breakfast to keep me from  trying to follow Hoseok.” 

Namjoon knit his eyebrows together with a slow side to side motion of his head. 

“No I didn’t Y/n. I don’t care if you talk to him.” 

Y/n turned to Jungkook, narrowing her eyes in an accusation at him from around the open door to the freezer. “Was it you?” 

“No.” Jungkook’s tone was flat as he dropped his spoon next to hers.  

Y/n shut the freezer door and pinched her face together in thought. They were the only people sat across from her besides her brother. Well–the only people besides her brother and Jin. But what reason would Jin have to keep her from talking to Hoseok?

Y/n blew the thoughts away with a sharp exhale. The idea that Jin of all people would have any reason to keep them separated felt too out of left field. One of the men in front of her must be lying–and it probably was Jungkook. Tracking away from the fridge and back towards the kitchen island, she hoisted herself up onto the counter top to sit between them. 

“Whoever kicked me–uncalled for. Don’t do it again.” 

Both men on either side of her shared an unsure shrug, and Namjoon pulled out one of the stools with his foot and slid onto its cushioned surface. Jungkook settled for leaning back against the counter near the stove. The foot in the door she had had with him minutes before was now gone. They only had to endure a few more ear-splitting bites, their saving grace arriving in a pair of sweats and slightly out of breath.  

‘I see you all made yourselves comfortable while I had to hike uphill from the parking lot by myself.” Yoongi waddled over to the cabinet that Namjoon had pulled the popcorn from, snatching out his potato chips and sauntering back towards the hallway. “We need to move. On my trek back I saw your mom’s car pull in from up the hill–and even at my distance I could tell the energy in the car was all kinds of fucked up.” 

All of them came to life simultaneously, shuffling in a line along the banister and towards the steps. Y/n’s foot barely brushed the first step when an idea took hold of her, pulling her backwards for Namjoon to stumble into. 

“Y/n, what are you doing? Let's go.” Namjoon gave a gentle nudge of her shoulder’s forward, but she planted her feet and resisted with all of her strength. 

Then she heard it. A faint whisper called to her from the study, and she could’ve sworn she caught a glimpse of her grandmother’s eyes glinting at her through the miniscule crack of the pocket doors.

Y/n shoved past Namjoon and Jungkook, and slid open the wooden panels just enough for her to slide into. “You guys go ahead. I have something I want to do first.” 

“Like hell you’re doing anything by yourself.” Yoongi’s feet thundered down the steps after her, retreating the steps he had just made. He shoved his bag of chips into Jungkook’s chest and used his now free hand to stop the door from closing in his face. “Do you have a death wish?” 

“No.” Y/n pursed her lips, rethinking her statement. “Maybe–I’m going to eavesdrop on my mom. I just have a gut feeling.” Y/n disappeared into the dark study, surprising even herself with her sudden bravery when just in the kitchen she couldn’t bear the thought of being by herself. 

“Jesus fucking Christ–Joon: the flashlights are on your bed. In my chest I have the instructions for what I did to anoint them, just follow the steps exactly as they are written. Jungkook.” Yoongi turned to the youngest and held both hands up in front of his face. Jungkook seemed to understand the silent command, slipping the flashlight from his pocket and tossing it in a flying arch into Yoongi’s awaiting hands. 

“You both go do that. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.” Yoongi spat, running his fingers through his hair and slipping after her into the pitch black study before either of them could protest.

Yoongi and Y/n faced each other in a crouch, their shoulders brushing against the wooden doors and their eyes locked on each other's from across the gap Y/n had left for peeking; reminiscent of the way her and her grandmother had done only a couple hours prior. Yoongi’s eyes shined at her with a dangerous glint, but they both remained silent. 

Her mother barged through the front door, aggressively throwing her keys into the ceramic bowl near the door in a huff. Y/n heard the sound of her mother struggling to remove her jacket, the fabric flapping about frantically and catching on her elbows. Yoongi had the best view–the side he was on enabled him to spy on her through the gap in the door. His eyes paused their survey, something entrapping his focus. 

“Do you need any help?” 

Y/n’s eyes bugged out of her skull, Jin’s voice sounding from the other side of the door confirming any earlier suspicions she may have had about his whereabouts. 

“No.” Her mother snapped, and Y/n watched the shadow of her feet glide across the floor in the direction of the hall and into her restricted line of sight. Her mother stopped just after the dining room doors, shifting to regard Jin over her shoulder.

“I apologize for being short with you–I’ve had quite a draining day today. Make sure he gets to bed safely.” Her mother’s steps resumed their path towards the hall, the shadow vanishing with her exit. 

When the two figures passed the crack in the door, she was able to get a better picture. Y/n watched as not one, but two sets of feet followed the same direction, only this time she heard them start a slow trek up the steps towards the second floor landing. Y/n concealed her gasp with the palm of her hand when they passed in front of the gap for her to catch a glimpse of the way Jin was carrying almost the entirety of their friend’s body weight. Hoseok did not sound good, and how he looked wasn’t much better off. His air curling and sticking to the nape of his neck with sweat, an old t-shirt hanging off of thin shoulders that’s collar looked soaked all the way down to his shoulder blades. Did her mom do something to them? It couldn’t be a coincidence that her and her mother got into a spat that ended with fingers pointed in their direction, and for her to return home late with the said guilty parties in tow; not to mention one in poor condition. Y/n watched their ascending figures until she couldn’t, unable to take her eyes off of Hoseok’s etiolated slump of a body against Jin’s side. 

“Can I get you anything from the kitchen before we get you settled?” Jin’s voice was not above a murmur. 

“No.” Hoseok ground out through his teeth, his steps dragging out behind Jin’s. “Just let me lay down please.” 

They said nothing else, just a few ragged breaths from Hoseok and a couple muted grunts from Jin while they crept the way to the top of the stairs, dragging their feet through the landing.

“We should really head back up to get this all finished before she finds us together.” Yoongi hissed.

“No. I need to keep going.” 

Without warning, Y/n shoved through the gap in the door and kept her steps light to follow after her mother. Y/n made it just in time to see mother’s shadow dissipate beneath her father’s office door, the light pooling from beneath the door much too dim to be able to tell where abouts in the room she moved. Y/n melted into the wall, Yoongi sidling up next to her with the flashlight gripped tightly in his fist. They shuffled on their toes down towards the edge of the door frame, and Y/n held her breath as she leaned forward to listen in on the muffled voices from the other side.  Yoongi did the same, spinning on the balls of his feet to leap across the beam of light to stand on the opposite side of the frame to face each other once more. Their ears virtually pressed into the wooden border to help the sound waves reach them with less difficulty.

“I made a few calls today–it’s settled. We may have to shovel more money into their pockets but that can’t be helped. Whatever it takes to get him out of here is fine by me.” Her mothers heels clicked across the floor, and she heard the faint whistle of air releasing from the leather office chair behind her father’s desk and assumed she had seated herself in it. 

“Alright.” Her father’s voice slurred, tracking sideways from his mouth and tumbling out without control of where the sound went. 

Her mother heaved out a breath. “He will need to be packed up and off well before dinner. Please try and see him before he goes, will you? We have an image to keep up with.” 

Only silence followed. 

“In other news, If you’d like an update on your daughters–Amelia is enjoying her time in France–says she met a boy.” Y/n heard a smile seep through her mother’s words. 

Her father croaked out a disjointed hum. “Did she now?” 

“Mmmhmm. Says he’s ‘nothing special’, but a mother knows how to read her daughter like the back of her hand. I suspect there will be a new addition at the Christmas table this year.” Her mother let out a tinkling laugh, her father’s much quieter one wheezing out from his chest. There was a palpable lull in their conversation before her mother spoke up again. 

“Y/n is…adjusting.” 

Her father grunted out a reply, but it was too jumbled for Y/n to understand. 

“No–I’ve made sure of it.” 

Anselm's first words were of a whisper too quiet for the eavesdroppers to hear. But his next ones were loud and clear. A cry into the night. “Mother, please. Do not lie to me. He says this is the only way.”

 The office chair creaked, and the sound of her mother’s shoes traveled further into the office. 

“Anselm, stay with me.” Her voice cut itself off and Y/n heard the rug from near the fireplace rustle with movement. “Would you like to see pictures Amelia sent me today?” Y/n had never heard her mother sound so desperate and warbled. It almost made Y/n feel sorry for her. Almost. 

A rattling cough barked out from her father’s chest, making both Y/n and Yoongi jump a few inches off of the ground. His vocal chords rubbed against one another as if coated in shards of glass: scratchy and inhuman. 

“Y/n…Come to me please. I know you’re there.” He coughed once more, and she heard one staggering step reverberate through the floor. “I can see you, Entlein.”

Yoongi grabbed her wrist, tugging her back down the hall with haste. Y/n thanked the gods that they had both taken off their shoes, and for the carpet muffling the way their soles struck the ground with each push up the stairs. Yoongi didn’t stop pulling her forward until he was shoving her in front of him and into her own bedroom, skidding in behind her and locking the door behind them. 

“There’s no way he could’ve actually seen me right?” Y/n panted, whirling to face him. 

“I don’t know Y/n.” His tone was frantic, and he signaled for her to stay quiet while he listened out for any creak, hum or groan to signify that they had been followed.

“Were they talking about you? She wouldn’t do anything shady to get rid of you–right?”

“Y/n–I don’t know! Now shush so I can listen please!” Yoongi’s words were intended to be sharp, but missed their shot like an arrow released from a bow that was tied much too loose.  He held his flashlight at the ready, and kept his back pressed against the door with his feet dug into the ground in front of him. Once Yoongi decided the coast was clear he slumped against the back of her door and slid to the floor. 

“Your dad’s voice–did it sound familiar to you at all?” 

“I mean yeah, it was my dad.” Y/n fixed him with an incredulous look. 

The glare he gave her was unimpressed, his eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. She thought back to her father’s final utterance–the way his voice had shifted and the hairs on her arms that had stood up in response. She replayed the sound again, except this time it began to overlap with the man from the other side–with even Hadwin’s snarls making an appearance from the crevices of her mind–each of their phrases piling one on top of the other. She could practically see the way his skeletal jaw shook with each syllable.

 “How nice of you to join us, Entlein.”

“I will kill you where you stand, wretched bitch.”

“I can see you, Entlein.”

They sounded the same. 

Y/n pulled at the hair on her head. Her own voice doing little to drown out the memory of their echoing voices.

 “Shit.” 

After trading a debrief with Jungkook and Namjoon for two anointed flashlights, she had been left to her own devices in her room to avoid any run-in with her father. Y/n couldn’t get herself to sleep a wink that night. The events from that day fully caught up to her now that she had no friends and no pint of ice cream to fend them off with. That’s how she found herself in her current predicament: Her back pressed against her closet door and one of her flashlights crushed between her fingers. She waited–holding her breath when her father’s steps stopped outside her door with a finger pressing dangerously close to the on button but never putting enough pressure to turn it on. If she had thought she was scared of her father before, then the only word to describe how she felt about him being just on the precipice of her space was pure terror.

When her father turned his way back down the hallway, Y/n launched into action. Scraping her chair out from beneath her desk and scrambling for an empty journal. If they had still had time before bed, she would’ve made Yoongi or Jungkook escort her to the cellar and attic to go through her childhood belongings for her handmade family tree they had scrapbooked as a family when she was seven. Each sister making their own with printed out photos they had butchered with children’s scissor’s into choppy edged shapes to fit into the small frames of each designated member. 

But they hadn’t had the time. Which meant Y/n had to do what she did best: figure it out on her own. 

The main branches had come to her memory with ease–their names and basic stories tossed around with as much reverence as bible stories were discussed in church. The set up may not have been as perfect as the custom hand designed map they had been given as children to fill out, but it got the job done. Once she had their names, she started to add her own notes. Underneath Hadwin’s lopsided bubble, she scribbled down a quick ‘X’ to mark his current…unsightly circumstances. She did the same with the twins, Annelise, and Patti. Her pen hovered over her sister’s name, her shaky hand making the ink wiggle onto the paper as she drew another ‘x’ beneath it. 

Once she had finished up with that task, she pulled out another sheet of paper and tried to jot down as many names of the Kim, Jung, Jeon, and Min line as she could remember and tucked the paper beneath her makeshift family tree. She followed each slanted line with her pen, notating each set of brothers that could’ve possibly been whoever she had seen on the other side. If Y/n wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on, she would need to brush up on her history–and she had just the person to go to for help. 

_________________________________________

Y/n’s eyes blinked blearily at the sun that started to seep through her blinds and onto her indecipherable words that careened off the paper into unintentional stripes where her hand had continued trying to write even if her brain had succumbed to an hour of rest. The sound of shoes scuffling on the carpet outside of her door brought her eyes open further. She lifted her head from where it had fallen onto her desk and stared at the shadow of feet as they drifted to the side and down the hall. 

Despite having almost no sleep, Y/n could feel the buzz lingering beneath her skin that charged her forward like the world’s strongest cup of coffee. She pulled her clothes in a speed that could have won her a record, and pulled open her door expecting to find Jungkook leaning against the wall between Yoongi’s room and her own–but found no person waiting for her on the other side. What she did find was a neon sticky note stuck to her door. 

“Meet me in the ballroom at 1. ~Your second ex husband :)” 

Y/n’s heart thumped in her chest, and she fiddled with the paper between her fingers. An unstoppable smile slithered her lips upwards, but she felt it wobble when her mind conjured up the ashen image of him from the night before–reminding her what her purpose was for today. The recollection only gives fuel to her already ever-present tenacity forth tenfold.

She raced back into her room, grabbing the makeshift list and family tree and shoving them along with the sticky note into her pocket. Y/n pulled out her phone from her pocket to dial Jungkook when a few missed text messages had her attention derailed to read them.

New messages in ‘The Most Annoying and Toxic Coworkers’

[Jungkook]: Namjoon will have to pick you up today. Your mom is home. 

[Zoltar]: Home and in the way. The foyer is a wreck. 

[Zoltar]: You’re going to want to make a pitstop at your brother’s room–whether for better or for worse–It wasn’t me they were talking about paying to get rid of last night. 

As she was reading a new message appeared, shoving the rest further up her screen. 

[Joon 🌱]: I’m on my way to get you. Prepare yourself.

Y/n didn’t have time to ponder what he meant with his message–for he was already rounding the corner down her hall. Namjoon’s face was slightly gray from what seemed to now be a mutual lack of sleep and he had both hands shoved into his pockets with his head slightly bowed. He picked his head up when he was a few yards out from her room, and his neck flushed. He was either already lying or preparing himself to. 

“Y/n–” 

“How bad is it?”  Y/n demanded, leaving no room for his bumbling attempts at dishonesty. 

Namjoon puffed out his cheeks and sucked in a breath. “She’s having cameras put up, so I have no idea what this means for us. And your brother is being sent to boarding school early–or late–however you want to look at it.” 

Y/n was beside herself at the news. Her anger rose in waves, her mother’s magnetic pull never failing to elicit a high tide in Y/n’s emotional sea. She did her best to shove it down: if she blew up right now it wouldn’t help her case in her mother’s eyes.  

“Why would she even bother–he will just be home in barely two months anyways?” Y/n met Namjoon outside Yoongi’s door, and didn’t bother stopping her strides to chat. Namjoon immediately kept in step with her, spinning on his feet to follow. 

“Well that’s the thing–I don’t think he’s going to the same one you did.” 

“What makes you say that?” They reached the top of the stairs, and Namjoon’s answer was pulled from between his teeth by the label on passerby’s uniform.

 Brighten’s Center for Boys–Est 1978, NY

“I looked it up. They go year round with only short week-long breaks here and there.” Namjoon’s voice was tight. 

The man’s shirt was bunched up, and damp despite the weather not being a degree over 68. He had a large taped cardboard box balanced on his forearms with Roland’s name scrawled on the side in black marker. Y/n skittered down the steps, swinging on the banister as she turned down the hall. New York? Steam billowed from Y/n’s ears when she swallowed down scathing choice words for her mother. Did her mom even want any of them around anymore? She recounted the way her mother had sounded so relieved to have him gone, and spurred herself on faster. 

Y/n passed her father’s office, and headed straight down the hall where she could see one of the bedroom doors propped open by another mover leaned up against a moving cart. She could hear her mother shouting out orders from her distance, and almost bit her own tongue off to keep from stomping in with guns blazing. 

“This pile can go–thank you.” 

Y/n rounded the corner just behind the man that entered to grab the stack her mother had directed him to. Her brother’s room was in shambles: half packed and bed stripped. She tried to not let her eyes linger around for too long, the sight playing much too close to how it had looked the days following her sister’s death. Her mother’s eyes met hers from over the mover’s shoulder, and Y/n saw her composure crack if only momentarily. Then like she did best, her mother patched it back up with indifference. 

“What’s going on here?” Y/n could feel Namjoon’s astonishment at how well Y/n managed to disguise her rage in her question. 

Y/n’s mother must have also been expecting an explosion, because the muscles in her shoulders visibly uncoiled themselves beneath her sweater. 

“An opening came up at one of the boarding schools we were looking to enroll Ro in. We couldn’t pass it up and risk him not having a spot in the fall.” The older woman crouched onto her knees to commence the daunting task of piling all of her brother’s stuffed dogs into a box to her right. 

Lies. Y/n though, but kept her words within herself. 

Y/n put one hand into her back pocket, and leant up against Roland’s now empty dresser. “And the men outside?” 

Mariah avoided Y/n’s stare, looking far too interested than necessary at a plush dalmatian in her hands. 

“They are setting up cameras at all of the entrances. Your father and I determined that it was necessary again with the uptick in guests for this year’s events.” 

Y/n pursed her lips, her hand drumming on the dresser as she nodded in feigned disinterest. Roland stumbled from his bathroom, still clad in a set of dog themed pajamas, and her mother found her conversational escape. 

“Did you sort through all of your toiletries?” 

Her brother nodded, his eyes wide and unable to look at the spot Y/n stood near his door. 

“Good. I will run those out to one of the movers to put in our car for easy access.” Mariah dropped the stuffed animal she was holding and hustled into the bathroom her brother had just left. Y/n’s eyes followed her as she returned with a firetruck red duffle bag over her shoulder and set off in search of someone to take it off of her hands. 

Y/n waited for a moment to see if her mother would return, and when she didn’t she let her gaze fall on her brother. Roland still stood in the middle of his room like a deer in headlights, looking just out of place as she suspected he felt. 

“How are you feeling about school? Excited?”  Y/n tried to keep her voice light as to not scare him off. 

Roland shrugged and pulled at the sleeves of his shirt. “I guess so.” 

“I was nervous the first year I was sent off. You’ll get used to it after a while.” Y/n sent him a reassuring smile that he only saw part of with his wandering eyes. 

Roland inched over to his bed, and lowered himself onto the bare mattress. His eyes flickered to the door and then back at Y/n. His shoulders curled in on him, and he couldn’t keep his feet still. He was nervous to be around her. Another stab into Y/n’s heart that they were more distant than ever. 

“Hey, I bet you’ll do great.” She had to rip the next few words from the depths of her soul, every cell in her body screaming at her not to. “You’re the next big brave owner after all.” 

Even though Y/n’s words sounded uplifting, Roland seemed to find them uncomfortable. 

“Why did they send you to boarding school?” Roland asked his questions with his eyes still checking the doorway for their mother’s return. 

“Well…” Y/n pushed herself from the dresser and bounced down onto the mattress next to him. “They just thought it’d be best for me–and I bet it’s the same reason for you.” 

Roland shifted in his seat at her answer, his hands tugging harder at the edge of his shirt. His mouth opened to say something else, but rerouted to instead utter something far too quiet for Y/n to understand. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up bud–the world is going topsy turvy out in the halls.” Y/n jabbed at his arm lightly with her elbow in jest, but he didn’t smile. 

“Did you leave because of me?” 

Y/n’s brows knit at the sudden inquiry, not expecting him to ask her such a thing. But it dawned on Y/n as she watched him shimmy in his seat that he might have been too young to grasp what had truly happened that night. And she doubted her mother had run to Y/n’s defenses if it had been brought up before.

“What? No!” Y/n blinked down at him, her mouth opening and closing to find the right words. “Have you thought that this whole time?” 

Roland shrugged, his head bowing in shame. “A little. I started the fight.” 

“Well stop thinking that. It wasn’t your fault what happened–Mom and Dad are the ones who lied, not you. You didn’t know any better.” Y/n turned her body to face him, trying her best to meet his avoidant gaze. “I mean it, Küken. I’m not mad at you.” 

Roland shyly peaked up at her, his hands stilling at his sides. “You promise?” 

“Pinky promise.” She held her smallest finger up for his to take, and gave him the most convincing look she could muster. He linked his pinky with hers, and Y/n shook it slightly with finality. 

Roland checked the doorway for the umpteenth time, still finding no sign of their mom he leaned back in. “Can I tell you a secret then? That will stay just between us?” 

“Of course. Whatever you want to tell me. You know I love a good secret that Mom and Dad can’t know.” Y/n leant in closer as well, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously. “When you get a bit older I can tell you hundreds of my own.”

Roland let out a small giggle, and grabbed for Y/n’s pinky again. “I mean it. They can’t ever know.” 

“I get it, stop teasing and spill before mom comes back.” She feathered her fingers against his ribs, effectively pulling bubbles of laughter from his throat at the tickling onslaught. 

“Okay-Okay! Stop!” Y/n removed her hands, and let him have a few seconds to catch his breath. Roland turned to completely face her, pulling his legs towards his chest to sit crisscrossed on the mattress.

“I don’t want to own the hotel. I never wanted to. But mom says I don’t have a choice.” 

Y/n’s stomach did flips in her abdomen, and she was glad she hadn’t eaten anything yet for it to find and evict. 

“Did she say why?” Y/n’s voice had an edge to it even though she tried to dampen it. 

“She just said that it’s tradition. That I was the only one who could do it.” He rolled his eyes, oblivious to how much this confession affected Y/n. “But what I want is to be a firefighter or a dog trainer.” 

“Why even hire movers if I have to take things to the car myself?” Their mother scampered back into the room, flustered from whatever trek she had taken. “Is everything alright?” Her back straightened at the sight of them huddled together. 

“Just peachy. I was telling him about how great he’ll do up in New York. He just got a little nervous, that's all.” Y/n gave her a tight lipped smile, brushing her hands off on her pants and pulling herself to her feet. 

“O-okay.” Mariah stepped out of Y/n’s way, letting her pass back out into the hall without stopping her. 

“If you need help let me know. But I’m headed out for the day.” Y/n saluted the two of them and took off down the hall in search of her body guard for this morning. She found Namjoon propped against the all a few doors down to give her and Roland some privacy–and despite her promise to her brother to keep what he had disclosed between them–she couldn’t wait to seethe about what she had just been told to Namjoon the moment they were alone. 

“How is he-” 

“Follow me.” 

Namjoon paled, and he fell into step with her rapid footfalls. “Got it.” 

Her face must have betrayed how livid she was again. Old wounds were being ruthlessly sliced open, and her mom’s hands were the ones holding the blade. Y/n dodged a man swinging a ladder over his head to swoop down to kick her shoes on, Namjoon barely making it underneath the metal in time to do the same. 

Y/n led the way down the stairs, barreling straight down the path toward the hotel. Y/n forced deep breaths into her lungs all the way through the courtyard and into the upper lobby as a means to hold in what she wanted so desperately to word vomit all over Namjoon behind her. She skidded to a halt at the front desk, but Jin was nowhere to be found-a different employee taking his place. Before Y/n’s thoughts could take a dark turn, she reminded herself that Jin had shared he didn’t always work on Wednesdays and settled herself on that, not having the mental capacity to start theorizing about whatever her mother's schemes had to do with them. Y/n tapped on the bell, and the well-kept woman greeted her with a dazzling smile. 

“How can I help you today?” 

“Would you mind checking the tour schedule for me? I work here, and I’m trying to see if my friend is on the schedule today. We are supposed to meet up for lunch, but he never told me what time.” Y/n returned her smile, and kept her voice inconspicuous. 

“Oh–sure! Let me check here…Who are you looking for?” 

“Jimin Park.” 

The woman’s delicate hands lifted from the keyboard, not even bothering to look any further. “I’m afraid he’s not on the schedule today. He called out this morning.” 

“Huh, darn. I’ll see if I can find him around then.” Y/n skipped backwards towards the propped open front doors. “Thank you!” 

Y/n sped down the hotel’s front steps, her feet kicking up dust when they met the gravel driveway. Much to Namjoon’s displeasure, she kept up with this pace down the entirety of the long driveway. She had an inkling at where she could find Jimin: both from something he had said the day he had lent her a hand with her shelves; and from a small nibbling feeling in her gut that whispered the location up at her. 

The Historical Society. 

It was a ten-minute walk on foot to get there. Once at the end of the driveway, they had made a left-hand turn to follow the road roughly a quarter mile down to the clearing in the woods that stood as the residential parking area. Y/n glanced both ways up and down the winding road, and led their march across asphalt towards a stubby, yet ornately painted wooden sign signaling that they had made it to their destination. Trekking through the small parking lot that was shrouded with trees and shrubs, she approached the covered entrance to the Historical building. The outside was made of cream colored stone, with the main body of the building rising into a twisted dome. Y/n ducked under the velvet divider with a ‘no trespassing’ jangling from the chain when she jostled it. Her and Namjoon stood huddled under the stoop while Y/n rapped her knuckles against the door. She huffed out one more big breath to recenter her energy away from negativity–not wanting to seem irate as to off put Jimin when he opened the door. But There was no movement, and Y/n tapped her foot with pursed lips debating on whether to knock again. She caught sight of the small round doorbell button, and pressed it down with two fingers. 

“Maybe he’s not here Y/n. We can go wait for him back at the house.” Namjoon tried to reason with a hand on her elbow when she pressed the button two more times. 

“No.” Y/n shook her head resolutely. “He’s in here, I can feel it.” 

Y/n missed the quizzical look he shot her, because her attention was stolen by the sound of the lock clambering on the other side of the door. The door heaved open to reveal a slightly off put Jimin–his dirty blond hair disheveled and his white button down crumpled in a few spots. 

“Y/n?” 

The woman in question sighed in relief. “Sorry to bother you Jimin, but I have a few questions that I was hoping you could help me find the answers to.” 

“I–” Jimin remained apprehensive, even if his eyes lit up when they flickered between her and Namjoon. “Of course. Come on in.” 

“Namjoon, will you be joining or will you be headed back to the greenhouse?” She spun to the towering man next her to find him already looking back up the road towards the house. 

Namjoon shuffled from foot to foot, an uneasy look painting his features. “I do really need to get to work for the day–will you be alright?” 

“Yup. I’ll let you know when I’m finished up here. Hopefully I’ll still have time today to help you inspect how the perennials are regrowing.” Y/n was already treading through the door that Jimin held open for her, stopping to give Namjoon a small wave with her hand still in her sweater pocket. 

Namjoon grinned sweetly at her. “I’ll hold you to that.” Jimin had already headed back into the entry room, far enough for Namjoon to feel safe whispering to her. “You better promise to text one of us to come get you if he doesn’t walk you back. And I want updates on whatever has got you in such a tizzy today.” 

“Promise.” Without thinking, Y/n tipped herself forward to plant a quick peck on Namjoon’s cheek and traipsed through after Jimin without so much as a second glance at the bumbling mess she had left him in. “Thank you for the escort. See ya later, Joon!” 

Y/n’s late night endeavors must really be pushing her into a manic episode, because she felt almost no shame in what she had done. If anything, she had an extra pep in her step as she followed Jimin past the empty tour line and into the main hall. He pushed on the golden handle, gesturing with a hand for her to enter first. 

_________________________________________

The vaulted ceiling let the main hall be broken up into two separate floors connected by golden winding staircases with matching banisters. Lining the rounded walls were artifacts encased behind protective glass, labeled golden plaques with titles and dates of each item creating divots in the surface.  The vast first floor was dedicated to the Wörner’s, a rotating exhibit that the members of the historical department selected each year. Y/n could see that with this year being a major anniversary, they had gone the obvious route of displaying them through the generations. Her eyes caught the array of pressed and displayed military uniforms, and splayed out historical documents with rapt interest. The second floor was still dedicated to the other families involved with the hotel with each having their own designated section: The Kim’s, the Jeon’s, the Jung’s and the Min’s. Y/n decided it would do her good to ask Jimin for a tour of the current exhibits when he was feeling a bit better–she’d have to settle on just her questions for the time being. 

“We can talk in my office.” Jimin came up beside her, his hands clasped behind his back and his voice light. 

He led the way, cutting through the line of boxed displays and down another grand hallway, the same black and white tiled flooring spreading outwards beneath their feet. Y/n admired the artwork displayed along the column lined walls, each piece collected from local artists and swapped at the beginning of the month. It looked like this month's theme was nature Y/n noted, her eyes examining an impressionist style piece depicting a scene from the state forest up the road. 

“They are for sale, you know.” His placid tone called from down the hall, a patient smile shining her way at where she had unknowingly stopped to admire another smaller painting of a flowery field. Y/n blushed, and scurried after him. She didn’t want to keep him waiting longer than he needed to. She brushed against him with her shoulder when she squeezed through the threshold, the crackling sound of Bach welcoming her with open arms.

 It looked mostly well kept, with some papers strewn about and a stack of books piled neatly at the end of a bulky rectangular wooden table. Its grain was handmade, a checker pattern with plaques of solid color separating the table into three distinguished segments. His monstrous bookshelves had each section labeled in a straightforward organizational system, focusing on topic or genre. In front of the shelves were two red cushioned armchairs, and a matching love seat. Y/n spied a few gray boxes stacked on an empty chair, their white tacked on label reading ‘photos and albums’. 

“You can take a seat wherever you’d like.” Jimin shut his door after them, floating over to one of the empty wooden seats at the table and pulling it out for her as an offer. 

Y/n thanked him, and sank into her seat without hesitation. Which he just responded with a pleased hum, taking two wide steps over to drop into the one across from her. Y/n felt her nose twitch, catching a whiff of something familiar that she couldn’t place.

“So what can I help you with today?” He beamed across the table at her, prodding her with a gentle quirk of his brows. Y/n’s brushed aside her concerns with whatever wax melt he had probably chosen, and focused on her task at hand. 

“I was actually hoping that you’d help me with some family history questions.” Y/n patted at her pockets with her hands, feeling for the papers and unsheathing them from her pockets. 

Jimin seemed caught off guard, and leaned forward onto his elbows to get a better look at what she was spreading out onto the table.

“Don’t judge me for how they look–it was just me, a spiral notebook and some scotch tape last night.” Y/n fidgeted with one of the corners with an abashed laugh. 

Jimin stood to get a better look, one knee propped on the chair below him and both hands supporting his weight as he slanted forward. His eyes took in her sloppy writing and wonky circles, and circled back to meet hers. 

“What kind of questions?” 

“Well…” Y/n cleared her throat, the realization that she can’t just tell him what had happened becoming glaringly apparent to her in that moment. “I want to make a more comprehensive family tree. The last one I had made was well over a decade ago and was just names and pictures. My goal is to make one with more specifics.” 

Jimin tapped his fingers on the table's edge, his tongue coming out to poke at his lower lip. “What are these ‘X’s for?” Y/n followed the direction of his pointed finger, and she scrambled for a reasonable response. 

“Oh–Those are some of the people I don’t remember as much about.” Y/n covered the lie with a chuckle, and scratched the back of her head. 

“Uh huh.” Jimin’s eyes glinted with hubris, but he didn’t call her out on her obvious lie. Y/n flushed once more, realizing that the person he had pointed at was her own sister. He fell back into his chair with a sigh, his pointer finger and thumb rubbing at his chin pensively. 

“You want to make one?” He regarded her with a few drops of skepticism, his fingers coming to a slow stop against his face. 

“Yes.” she gestured to the shotty one in front of her with a smirk. “One that doesn’t look like it was made by a toddler.” 

Jimin chortled at her comment, and rose from his chair and towards the exit to his office. “I’ll do you one better–give me one moment please.” 

He glided back out into the hall, leaving her alone in his office with just the soft sound of the record he had on his antique victrola. She could hear the sound of his shoes ringing against the tile getting further and further away and with each echoing step her heart sank: she wasn’t supposed to be alone. Y/n shoved her hand into her back pocket where her “lightsaber” was tucked, and let herself hold it at the ready in her hands to turn on at any sign of danger. But none came.

Y/n held her breath until the sound of Jimin’s steps returning down the hall let her expel it from her chest, but she did not yet let go of the flashlight until she saw his sandy head pop through the door once more. When he turned back around to face her, he had a lengthy black leather tube almost half his height. He rounded the table and propped it up against the side closest to her. 

“This is my personal copy of the Wörner family tree that I’ve been working on. I can order a second one for you to keep if you'd like.” Jimin unlatched the top, and lifted a gargantuan scroll of paper that was about as thick around as her head with how hard it was fighting to unravel the moment it was removed from its confines. 

Jimin laid the scroll horizontally on the table and pushed on the edge with his palm. The paper rolled away from his reach, spanning almost as good as the entire table and revealing its contents for both of them to see. It was without a doubt, the most concise family tree she had seen of her family to date. Each member’s birthdate, death date, and photo was displayed proudly along their branches, and small QR codes printed next to each name. 

“If you scan the QR code next to their name, it brings you to a website portal I’ve been putting together myself with any detailed information or photos I’ve been able to procure and assign to them.” Jimin pulled his phone from his pocket, scanning the square closest to him. “It’s still a work in progress.” 

Y/n tried to hold in a gag as Inga’s face appeared on his phone screen, reminding her all too well of the little girl she had seen last night. At least this version of Inga still had her teeth and eyeballs attached to her. He passed the phone into her hands, and let her scroll through the information he had already listed. 

Inga Wörner was born (along with her twin sister Heidi) to parents Ernst and Philomena Wörner in the fall of 1895. According to written accounts, she enjoyed hosting tea parties with her sister, drawing, and spending time outdoors–with emphasis on spending the most time at the lake or along the trails with her sister. Unfortunately, she caught an unspecified respiratory infection that led to both her own, and eventually her twin’s untimely death in spring of 1903. 

The grainy photo of a small girl–probably taken not long before her illness had consumed her with how similar she looked to how Y/n recognized her–filled Y/n with an unexpected wave of sympathy. She clicked on the ‘show me more’ option that routed her two a few scanned children’s drawings: a lopsided drawing of a calico cat, and the front of the estate that was clearly done by a child’s hand with her name drawn in big loopy letters along the bottom. Y/n had to skip over the sketched out image of the lake, unable to bring herself to look at it for too long without her skin crawling.

 She had only been a child when she had died–close to her sister’s age even. Y/n thought back to how her sister had shown up in her dream as a completely different person to who she had once been, and felt guilty for blaming the twins for their predicament: they were as much of a victim to whatever was happening as much as her sister had been. What a shame their legacy is being tarnished by something vile. By something out of their control. 

Y/n backed out of her file, and back to the camera button. She looked to Jimin for approval, and he gestured with his hand and an inviting smile for her to continue. 

“Be my guest.” 

Y/n handed him back his phone, and scrambled for her own–so she would be able to take screenshots of anything she had found interesting. Y/n lost herself in the map, finding herself unable to pull herself away from the photos or the information that was present, feeling drawn to take a peek into Heidi’s as well. 

Heidi Wörner was born to Ernst and Philomena in the late fall of 1895, the technical eldest of the set of twins (as she makes sure to point out in her journal entries whenever the topic is discussed). Heidi wrote extensively about things she enjoyed in a collection of personal journals and diaries. Some of the most notable things she recorded were her love of horseback riding, the family cat Gus (Asparagus), and Neapolitan ice cream. Heidi could be noted as an avid writer, documenting the day-to-day life of her and her family. Her meticulous testimony gives us a unique point of view of the adults in her life.

Y/n flipped through the plethora of photos of faded journal entries, the handwriting improving with each swipe. She shook out the mixed bag of feelings within her chest, and moved onto the next person on the page. Jimin settled himself on one of the red armchairs, crossing one of his legs and propping a book open on his elevated knee. Y/n worked in silence, taking photos or writing notes on her own makeshift document. Jimin lost in his book and tapping his fingers rhythmically against the hardcover, and the record playing through it’s next orchestra piece. 

There were a few people Jimin seemed to have not filled in yet, and each time an empty square popped up she would move to the next. Y/n made sure she was taking screenshots of the ones that did have short or cut off descriptions. The blank spaces left her more intrigued than those whose sections were full. She began to find similarities to the ones left blank as time went on: the common denominator that they belonged almost exclusively to the women in the family. This Y/n had to remind herself of, could most likely be attributed to the time they had lived in not being well known for their kindness towards women historically. Even if it didn’t surprise her, it still left her feeling the void where their stories should also be. When she hovered her phone over Adelaide, she was taken aback: for her section was also blank. There should surely be something about her somewhere–she had a restaurant named after her!. Maybe Jimin just hadn’t gotten to that side of the family tree yet, she reasoned with herself. 

Jimin felt her moment of pause, looking over her shoulder at where her phone lingered over the photo of Adelaide. 

“I haven’t finished everything yet. There’s been…” Jimin trailed off, his fingers fiddling with the cuff of one of his sleeves as he stood from his seat. “A lot of setbacks.” He avoided meeting her eyes, keeping his tone airy even if tension tried to ease its way through.

“Oh. Like technical issues or lack of substantial material?” Y/n laid her phone on the table next to Adelaide’s photo and waited patiently for his response. 

“Trust me–there is no lack of material about any of these people. There’s hoards of it in the basement archives,” Jimin sassily flicked a stray lock of hair from his forehead, “It’s more so along the lines of I have to get things I wish to share approved by higher ups and some of that information is intentionally kept from prying eyes; if you can understand what I’m implying.” 

Y/n chewed at her lip, giving him a subtle nod. “Anything interesting that you can share?”   

“Hmmm.” Jimin ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, contemplating her question. “Not at the moment. But if I catch wind of anything that I think might interest you, I will be sure to reach out.” 

The record on his player clipped to a sudden stop with an ear splitting scratch, as if someone had taken their finger and pushed the needle to grate across the record. Y/n swiveled at the sudden interruption, but Jimin remained motionless with the corners of his lips twitching in cloaked displeasure. There was a muffled ‘tink’, and Y/n watched the arm land against the velvet lining on the box on its own accord. Nearly a full ten inches from where it had been tracking across the pressed record moments before. 

“Sorry about that–It’s so old–sometimes it just forgets how to act.”  Jimin’s voice was cloying, cutting through the tension the interruption had left hanging in the air. 

His shoes sounded sharp on the tiled floors careening straight for the large box and picking up the arm of the player. “If it keeps choosing to slip up, I will just have to turn it off and switch to a more modern approach.” He hovered the needle over the beginning of the vinyl, and dropped it into the grooves to restart it from the beginning. The music resounded through the space once more as if nothing had happened. 

“Much better.” Jimin purred, and floated back to her side. He placed his hands onto the edges of the massive sheet and tugged it towards him. The paper curled on command, rolling itself back up into a coiled cylinder for him to grasp in his hands. “I’m sure this must be boring you.” He gave her a syrupy smile–one that was borderline too sweet–and his voice lilted up an octave. “How about a tour of the exhibits? Or I can offer you something to read until someone comes to get you.”

Y/n didn’t try to fight it–she knew that he was too nice for his own good to tell her outright that he was upset by something–and she didn’t want to abuse that by forcing him further into whatever was bothering him. Y/n speculated that it had something to do with the record player most certainly not just being old.  

“A tour would be nice.” Y/n yielded to his intense smile he tossed her over the lid of the leather tube.

“Then you’re in luck, because that is my specialty~” He clapped his hands, his expression dwindling into something more playful. Jimin placed a hand on the small of her back, and herded her out of the office and into the hall. He tucked one hand into the pocket of his black slacks, and grasped one of hers in the other with a wink. 

Jimin set the pace, keeping Y/n’s normally rushed steps timed with the strings serenading them from the open door they had just left. They arrived at the ginormous circular room once more, and he steered them both towards the entrance to start them on the mapped out path that sprawled counter clockwise from the door and up to the second floor.

“We have it organized in timeline order for the most part: Over here being mostly about Matthäus and his sons.” Jimin gestured with his nose to a collage of black and white photographs of Matthäus, some of him as a child in Germany splattered between older photos of him in front of the hotel, and posing at the construction site with his family. 

They strolled forwards, a photo of his eldest son Friedrich standing next to Matthäus in a much less modernized version of the lobby. A newspaper clipping titled “WÖRNER SON TAKES OVER HOTEL DEEDS”. Jimin let her soak up the images on her own, only choosing to offer input where he saw fit. They traveled down from Friedrich’s section to his eldest son, Ernst.

 Y/n paused to take in the photo of him at the desk in the study, his pen scratching along a long piece of parchment with his signature pooling out from the ink. His brother stood next to him, in the process of clapping his brother on the back in revelry. But it wasn’t either of them she was drawn to. It wasn’t the proud faces of his father or the wrinkled face of Matthäus beaming towards his grandson. It was the blank and brooding stare of Adelaide Wörner from where she stood in the back corner. 

Adelaide’s hair was pulled up and out of her face, a few tight unruly curls falling onto her cheeks and across her forehead. They had the same shaped nose, Y/n observed with an upwards quirk of her mouth. She stood almost entirely concealed by both brother’s shoulders, but Y/n could feel the way her eyes bore into the parchment Ernst was hunched over. Y/n could feel her emotions–read her thoughts even. It took one scorned woman to know one.

Jimin pulled her forward, passed the family photos of Ernst and his older children and grandchildren playing in the first rendition of the concrete outdoor pool. Heidi and Inga were nowhere to be seen, having never got the chance to live long enough to see it. 

“Inga would have loved the pool.” Y/n couldn’t help but think of the young girl, her breath fogging up the glass as she leant up to get a better view of the photo. “If she loved swimming in the lake I can only imagine what she would’ve done with the pool.” 

Jimin shifted where he stood, but did not comment. Pulling her even further forward to Leon’s generation. One photo in particular struck her more than the rest. It captured Leon lounging on the front steps of the estate, his dress pants rolled up to his knees where his lower legs should be. Where they were was made apparent as she took in the rest of the photo. His two sons–Barret and Duane–each wielded a prosthetic as a makeshift sword with the shoes pointed at each other to commence their duel. On either side were a gaggle of boys in a line as if imitating a battle: Y/n recognized one of them to be Hoseok’s great grandfather Young-ho (they all had the same shaped smile that made them easy to recognize in any family photo), a stick poised in his hand to strike at the line of boys across from them, and pointed directly at one in particular across the line who looked uncannily like Jin.  Leon’s face was split in half with a grin at the spectacle, and their mother Magdelena sat huddled with a group of women, each with a baby in her arms and casting sideways glances at the boys. 

Y/n snorted, her finger coming up to point through the glass at Young-ho’s taunting sneer. “You could tell me that was Hoseok and Jin on the front lawn from fifteen years ago and I’d believe you.” 

Jimin leaned forward, and a full bellied laugh erupted from his soft lips. “Oh trust me, there’s more where that came from, it must be in their blood to get on each other's nerves. I’ll have to take you down to the archives to show you some of my favorites–these grounds have their fair share of guts and glory–but for each serious photo there were probably a dozen photos of each generation of children getting up to no good.” Jimin toed forward, leading her away from the photo to the next section with a teasing bite of his lower lip. “And you can bet that it always stemmed back to a Jung and a Wörner.” 

Y/n couldn’t contain her own shit eating grin, a hand coming up to clutch at imaginary pearls. “What? No. I  would have never guessed!.” 

Jimin rolled his eyes, and squeezed her hand between his own as his response. He piloted them into a sharp right hand turn, down another hallway that emitted a bright white light instead of completing the other half of the circle. This hallway was identical to the one leading to his office in build–but instead of paintings–this hallway was lined with rows of pristinely pressed military uniforms. 

“The families here have a lot of footholds in key moments in history.” Jimin started, pulling her closer to his side with their intertwined hands.  “You can trace their involvement in pivotal movements. The most obvious one being the civil war, starting with Matthäus, then trickling downwards.” They took slow steps past a well preserved Union Soldier Uniform, his musket and boots propped next to it. 

“These next two uniforms belonged to Ernst and Leon from their time serving in World War I. But note the difference in size.” Jimin pulled her to a stop, taking his pocketed hand out to gesture between the two outfits in front of them. 

Y/n did as directed, her eyes sweeping from one to the other. The one on the left hand side was of the normal size, decorated and proud with a nicked helmet dangling from the neck of the mannequin. But the other towards the right, Leon’s: was much shorter. Only just brushing on five feet–it couldn’t be any taller than her brother–with the lower legs torn and folded over themselves. 

“It’s so small…” Y/n’s finger’s traced buttons through the glass. 

“That’s because Leon served when he was barely twelve. A lot of young boys lied about their age to get into the world wars, but world war I had some notably young participants. It must be a Wörner thing to dive head first into trouble: because his sons did the same thing come the 1940’s.” Jimin barely gave Y/n time to gape at the uniform of the small boy, sliding forward to the next two uniforms. “Barrett and Duane both lied about their age to enlist. Though they were much closer to the allowed age then their father had been, it still stirred quite the uproar amongst the family when both potential heirs shipped themselves off to battle without telling anyone.” 

“Sounds like Bear.” Y/n snorted. 

Barret–or Bear/Bär–was one of her great great uncles she had actually been able to have her own experiences with. He was the one to start their tradition of animal nicknames, for his name is derived from the German name Baraold. This translates roughly to “brave as a bear” or “bear strength”. And what a fitting name for him it had been. She had only seen him a few times around the holidays during his last few years, but he was without fail a force to be reckoned with each time. Her most prominent memories of him consisted of his insistence to do things that his doctors definitely didn’t want him too: like eat copious amounts of twinkies and spam, and swipe alcoholic beverages from vacant seats as he rolled by with his walker. He had always been one to bend and play with rules, something she had to agree with Jimin must be a Wörner thing. 

They continued past the next two average sized suits, passing a  handful of other uniforms until they reached the end of the hall. “Then you have the Korean war, Vietnam…one of them was always doing something.” Jimin tutted, guiding her to a door at the end of the hall. “However, the parts of history I find the most interesting don’t always have to do with the big wars America loves to dwell on. I prefer learning about the people themselves, and what made them make the choices they did.” 

He unlocked the door with a badge from his pocket, and dragged Y/n in after him. This room was much darker, and almost completely void of anything on its walls. Jimin let out a dry and tired chuckle, and watched as Y/n turned to take in the empty space.

“It’s empty?” Y/n breathed out, regarding Jimin with a tilt of her head. 

“Unfortunately. It’s almost May when we really start to pick up steam, and this exhibit is empty.” Jimin left the door only barely cracked behind them, leaving the only light to be from within the empty glass cases and the distant echoes of Bach trailing after them. “I did have stuff in here–an entire exhibit planned. But your-” Jimin cut himself off, forcing a disheartened smile on his face. “-but I wasn’t able to get it approved. The problem is, I can’t seem to find anything else worth filling it with.” 

Jimin stepped impossibly closer to her, resting his chin on her shoulder from behind while she looked at the only two articles pinned to one of the walls. A photo taken of Ernst along with his two surviving daughters, and Adelaide in a crouch, sharing a hand written sign with a young Leon in a wheelchair. All of them taking to the streets of New York during the March for Women’s Suffrage dated spring of 1919. 

The article next to it, described Ernst and Friedrich filing a lawsuit against an ex contractor on the basis of discrimination against an active employee: a picture of Il-sung Kim- the first Kim hired on the property as a financial adviser-posing with both men on the front steps of a courthouse. A highlighted excerpt beneath the photo a quote from Ernst taken on those very front steps: 

“My father always said that many of the best things to come from The United States of America were from the people that came across its borders. For if my grandfather had been treated with any similarities to that which you choose to treat others that strike at your feeble minded sense of comfort, our hotel would have never been given the chance to exist. He came from overseas, fought for your freedoms with his own hands, and made it his mission to keep doing so for everyone and anyone who comes after. And that is our job as Wörners; lest you never forget that when you walk through our doors. You spew hatred in the name of our Lord, yet you forget where you come from yourself: most of us took the same path as this fine gentleman next to me. If you have a problem with our philosophy and who we choose to stand for, you may take it up with God–for he will be the one you see before your descent into hell for using his name in vain as a means to punish other good men on the basis of sameness.”

Y/n was still, frozen by the two images and marks they made within her. Never had these ever been shown to her, nor their stories shared across the dinner table with the same emphasis that they had been done with the tales of war heroes. Y/n realized as she looked at those two photos–that perhaps she didn’t even know them at all. That perhaps things had been shoved under the rug and avoided, for what reason she couldn’t guess. Maybe it was the fire their passions lit in her belly that made the knowledge dangerous: because if anything this would make her more insufferable to her mother.

Jimin shifted behind her, his next puff of air fanning across her exposed neck from where his chin rested on her shoulder. 

“Y/n–there’s so much about your family they choose not to tell. There’s true glory, and true darkness. But they avoid both for the sake of not creating enemies. But In my personal opinion: if doing the right thing makes one an enemy, then they were never a friend in the first place.” Jimin took small steps back, and Y/n felt a rush of cold air replace the warmth that his closeness had brought. When she turned back to find where he had gone, she could barely make out his outline in the dark room. His eyes reflected the light from the display case back at her from his spot by the door, and he held it open for her with a tight-lipped smile. 

Y/n was breathless, unable to piece together whatever riddle he was giving her this time. “What does that mean, Jimin?” 

He shrugged, holding a hand up in submission. “It’s just something I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about. With everything going on around the hotel and all.” 

Y/n followed, as if in a trance. The information overload left her hazy–something he seemed to have a knack for doing lately when he got lost in these cryptic moods. Before she could make it through the door, he stopped her with a feverish hand on her forearm. 

“Whatever you decide to add to your own family tree, I would take extra care to note where you find any…” Jimin’s eyes glanced down the hall with trepidation “...gaps. Sometimes empty spaces can say a lot about what the others around them expected from them. And always keep in mind who has been in charge of writing the story that they had been excluded from.”  

Jimin released his hold on her, letting her shuffle through the opening first. Y/n took a moment to find herself again from the strange aura that had taken over her while Jimin bolted the door behind them closed. She took in a few of the trees swaying outside of her windows and took a deep breath in time with their dancing, grounding herself back in the present from whatever limbo state she had been pulled into within the empty exhibit. When he turned back to face her again once, his face had done a complete one-eighty: His eyes were scrunched into crescents from where his friendly smile pushed his cheeks up into them, and he grabbed at her hand once more. 

“I think it would be lovely if you joined me for a treat at the cafe. I didn’t get to eat breakfast this morning with all of the household commotion, and I think my stomach might eat itself if I don’t get something in it.” Jimin’s voice took on a slight whine, and he hauled her past the uniforms and towards the building's exit. 

Weaving through the displays in the main room, Y/n registered that the record player had stopped again from within his office. The space in sound no longer taken up by music was filled with their echoing footfalls. Her eyes honed in on the image of Adelaide as they passed, and the fire in her burned brighter–whatever her and her friends were uncovering wasn’t just for Y/n’s own personal gain anymore–no. This went further back then Y/n. It had something to do with all of the blank sections on that family tree that someone had decided wasn’t worth filling. The empty exhibit. Inga and Heidi. Adelaide. Matilda. Every inch of Y/n’s skin felt like it was on fire with the embers of rage smoldering within her, and she had to stop herself from crushing Jimin’s hand to cope with how hot it burned.

Y/n wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, or if it was just the residual weird energy from the empty exhibit: but she could’ve sworn she counted three sets of shoes instead of two reflecting off of the glass they whizzed by. Her ears must’ve been playing tricks on her too. Because while waiting for Jimin to set up the locks on the front door, there was certainly another indented set of large boot prints that crunched at a low decibel behind them up the dirt path back up to the estate. She gripped the flashlight tightly from her sweater pocket, but whoever it was decided to stay otherwise unseen. 

And this she decided fell in their favor. For if they crossed her now, she would find a way to end them on the spot with her light if she could. 

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Previous chapter

Next Chapter

taglist: @rkive-joonie

[abigailovesz]

CHAPTER 5 ECHOES IN THE BONES

pairing: jj maybank x lara croft!reader

summary: after finding daylight, you and jj navigate deeper into the jungle, searching for the temple’s second entrance - and the artifact you believe is hidden within. but you both aren’t alone. jj is injured trying to protect her, forcing you to rely not just on your instincts, but your heart.

warnings: gun violence, Injury/blood, mild PTSD references.

chapters recent chapter next chapter

the jungle felt different after the catacombs.

too loud.

birds screamed overhead. Insects clung to the sweat on jj’s neck. the sun beat down through gaps in the canopy, blinding in bursts. and still, you walked ahead, tireless, your machete carving a path through vines and time itself.

jj followed, limping just slightly.

“you okay?” you asked without looking back.

“yeah, just miss being in a crypt full of bones,” he muttered. “this humidity’s giving me flashbacks to freshman gym class.”

you gave the tiniest hint of a smile.

but even through your humor, your eyes kept darting to the trees. listening. feeling.

you both were being watched.

you both reached a ridge by midday. It opened onto a valley choked with ruins - stone steps crumbling into the earth, broken statues overrun with moss. at the far edge, a temple. partially collapsed. half swallowed by the jungle.

you raised you binoculars. “that’s it.”

jj squinted. “looks like a pile of rocks.”

“It is,” you said. “but under the rocks is everything.”

he tilted his head. “you ever just wanna live a normal life, girly?”

She lowered the binoculars and spoke. “no,” you sighed. “not anymore.” he nodded, something settling in him.

then - a sharp whistle.

you froze.

“down!” you hissed.

the brush exploded.

gunfire ripped through the air, birds screaming into the sky. jj dove behind a fallen log as bullets chewed through leaves. you rolled into a hollow at the ridge’s edge, pistol already in your hand.

“militia,” you said, breathing ragged.

“I thought we lost them!”

“they dont never lose the scent.”

more gunfire.

jj grabbed his rifle from his pack and fired back, eyes scanning the shadows. two silhouettes moved behind a low wall - trained, fast. not scavengers. professionals.

“we gotta move!” you shouted.

you both bolted, weaving through brush and ruins, ducking under roots the size of rooftops. you led them through a narrow pass between two broken statues, where the path dropped sharply into stone steps.

jj followed - until the shot rang out.

pain bloomed through his side.

he staggered.

“jj!”

he gritted his teeth, pressing a hand to his ribcage. warm blood soaked his shirt. you were beside him in seconds, dragging him into the stone hollow of an overgrown corridor. “let me see,” you whispered, frantic.

he winced, lifting his shirt. “just a graze,” he tried to say, but the words came through clenched teeth.

you tore a strip of cloth from your sleeve and pressed it hard against the wound. your hands didn’t shake - but your voice did. “you stupid, reckless-”

“hey,” he said gently, his lip tugging despite the situation. “ya worried about me, croft?”

you stared at him and then something in you cracked. “I’ve buried too many people I care about,” you said. “I won’t do it again.”

jj’s breath caught. “then don’t bury me.”

for a second, you closed her eyes. let your forehead rest against his.

the jungle went quiet around you.

no gunfire. just heartbeats.

YOU BOTH waited until nightfall.

you built a makeshift bandage, tight and clean. you helped him walk, his arm around your shoulder, the path lit only by moonlight and fireflies. you found an abandoned hunting outpost tucked between ruins, just enough shelter to rest.

jj collapsed onto a faded cot.

you knelt beside him, checking the wound. “you’re lucky,” you murmured. “an inch deeper and it would’ve-”

“I know.”

you looked at him and for the first time, you didn’t hide your fear. “I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered. “let someone in.”

jj reached out, fingers brushing your wrist.

“then we’ll figure it out together, yeah?.”

"yeah."

taglist ! - @maybejj - @delayeddrabbles - @kittykatinc - @hotvampdragon -@bbyg4rl - @freyawhitexxx1 -

[via-l0ve]

Hi I want to request Spn boys dating someone who is a few years younger than them (They almost have to be in crowley and castiels case) and they sometimes use slang that they don't get at all. I loved the way your wrote Gabriel in latest work so could you add him.

I understood that reference! (SPN pref!) 🩷

A/n: hi anon! i love this idea!! i hope you enjoy :)

warnings: swearing, modern vine/tiktok references

Dean:

“no, y/n!! you don’t understand! this is important, you could’ve died back there!! you need to be more careful! i’m tired of-“

“no need to shout. no need to yell. shut your eyes, take a deep breath.”

“…”

“aww look! you’ve gone all quiet.”

“what the fuck was that?”

you take it to your advantage when he’s arguing and just slip in some vine references (idk if anyone understands that one but i love it.)

“y/n, you want avocados on your toast like a heathen?”

“it’s an avocado! yayyy!”

“are you having a stroke? it’s just an avocado.”

one time a demon came through and a fight broke out and the table broke

“the tables broken. i’ll have to go out and get a new one in the morn-“

“oh no!! our table! it’s broken!!”

“…i just said that.”

the poor man is SO confused

Sam:

side. eye.

he’s flabbergasted

let’s say he’s mad about something okay?

he’s ranting and ranting and then he turns to you

“woah. calm down there jamahl. don’t pull out the nine!”

he’s giggling tho

he thinks it’s entertaining how you just say things for fun and it confuses everyone in the room

also also also

he tells you the most depressing news about the world and you go

“oh. slay.”

“slay? i just told you 20 people died y/n are you okay? are you high?”

“i wish i was.”

“what.”

lmfao i’m sorry but imagine in the middle of a hunt you get punched in the face by a demon or something and he turns to you and

“you okay?”

“oh! oh! call an ambulance! call an ambulance! but not for me!!!”

and then you kill it.

he falls in love even more.

Castiel:

poor baby is so confused

“where are you going, y/n?”

“wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“w-what? weather boy? i’m an angel of the lord-“

it’s not even vine. if you use slang he is so confused

“she thought she ate that up.”

“ate what up? what was she eating y/n?”

“no… no she wasn’t eat-“

you do it just to mess with him lol

“cas, you’re such a snack.”

“huh?”

your humor makes him so confused

“cas! look at this video of a gerbil running up to the camera and it freezes right on his dumb face.”

“y/n you concern me.”

“i was laughing for ten minutes.”

crowley:

he is so confused

he thinks your dying

but he also just goes along with it

any vine references he giggles a little bit ngl

he thinks you’re so funny even if he dosent get it too much LMFAOO

he gives you the look every time you reference something.

“was that a vine thing?”

he says meme like sebastian stan

“mee-me.”

“was that a mee-me?”

“meme, crowley.”

“oh. meeh-me.”

“no🩷.”

i’m cackling

i feel like he sucks at texting bro.

“hey bestie how was ur day?” - you

“good bestie i am not your bestie i am crowley your lover”

“use punctuation.”

he dosent understand your new language but he tries to keep up.

[vampirevatican]

Haven’t finish shark bait and haven’t yet been plagued with thoughts BUT consider the shiver with a chronically online sacrifice. Always quoting some vine or TikTok or tumblr or so on. Like imagine about to be sliced and their finally words are “this might as well happen. Adult life is already so weird” and then they survive only to say “mother trucker dude that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick”

bestie, i've been thinking about this and the first thing on my mind was me recently making a habit of saying "my tummy is doing the 23 skiddo". anyway without further ado,

tiggy

he finds it extremely funny and i promise you he joins in

which causes you to do a crash course on human pop culture

and now he's reciting niche internet memes, vines, tiktoks, and youtubers

much to gw's annoyance at times, to lee's fascination so you also teach him, and rhin at best finds it endearing but other times he may agree with gw

my favorite. as posted, "i dont fight for my respect, bitch, i fight for dick." but also, "baby girl im finna rock yo shit!" and he'd be grinning while saying it, we know this

as for vines... "what up im tiggy, im 25, and i can't read" or "that was legitness"

gw

i feel like he'd look on in disbelief, awe, and then burst out laughing

like, wow.. pretty ballsy for a human, or shit... do we have another tiggy on our hands?

we all know he loves tigs, so when the sacrifice is just as calmy unhinged it interests him a bit

when you get tiggy in on it to tho he surely mutters about how you shouldn't have been posideon blessed... we know he doesn't mean it tho

all that to say there's a chance he can join in on the mess too, but it's very subtle and it's like an inside joke with you three

for the gw folks, "so no head?" and he just breaks some shit in his room or storms off to the barracks

"don choked me today, so im starting a fundraiser to kill the sea witch. the benefits of killing her is i'd get chokeheld way less."

NO WAIT SHOW HIM "my main goal is to blow up" AND HE IS LOOSING HIS SHIT, so is tiggy but i swear that's his favorite

rhin

hit him with the "im 27" when he celebrates yall's 1 year anniversary and i promise you he is caught between laughing and sighing

he's already the mom friend, the calm collected amidst the chaos, so meeting a human like this def doesn't put him off but he defo grows into finding it endearing

favorite, if he joins in, is him and gw arguing and he just yells "THAT'S MY OPINION"

because him and gw are foils in my mind, him shouting that mid fight is something that a. is already unexpected and b. is enough to make gw nearly laugh and settle down the argument into a conversation

he sees you do anything? "...wow"

another fave fitting him, "but imagine how tired we are. imagine how tired we are of it." and i swear he uses it in meetings.

lee

you have to teach him the references he will not shut up about them

unlike tiggy he doesn't use them at random but picks out favorites to memorize and starts from there.

as someone who likes leeneb, he totally tells neb about it and they start making references together and you couldn't be more proud

teching lee and the first thing you say together "do i give a fuck. no, not one. how many fucks do i give. zero. exactly, so therefore your comment is both of you snap your fingers irrelevant."

building his confidence in bdsm and him being on at least speaking terms with the doctor but also teasing him for not being fit for bdsm truly, "im sorry, not everybody fits in the bad bitch genre… its a genre… not everybody fits on the roster."

[clevercatchphrase]

Cheers to a decade

My blog is 10 years old today. I have some thoughts.

On Januray 22nd, 2015, I made this tumblr blog. I remember it being my second semester of my senior year in college and feeling lost and depressed in my dorm room. Despite being in the class of 2015, I had technically graduated the winter prior, having come in to college with enough AP credits from high school to be ahead a semester. I remember not being ready to become an "official" adult yet. Despite having a degree, I didn't feel like I had enough choices in my future, so I stayed an extra year (3 semesters) and got a second degree before finally just being too sick of college life to stay there any longer.

I made this blog to practice art, but in truth, I think it was to distract myself from existential dread of being bottle necked into an occupation I didn't want with little to no choice of upward movement. I can't remember my exact thoughts, but I have a strong feeling it was along the lines of "if I can't get a job I like with my entomology degree, then I will practice art and try my luck as a freelance artist!" Not that freelance is any easier than an hourly paid 9 to 5, but at least it let me feel like I had more options.

It's so surreal scrolling back to that very first year. I posted a lot more frequently and did a lot more doodles and sketches and figure drawings back then. I didn't care about scheduling or queuing posts. I saw a cool tutorial? Neat, I'm reblogging this right now. just pumped out a 2 minute doodle of an animal, and it's going up on the blog immediately. I did more art challenges. Heck, I made a 50 day art challenge for homestuck and DID it! I made my very first long form song comic less than a month after creating this blog. It was for kingdom hearts set to the song "king" by Lauren Aquilina (which was almost certainly inspired by the LoZ song comic made by caffeineandcarpaltunnel set to the same song 2 years prior. (and I don't even play loz, I just liked the song)). I can't help but question myself; "where did all this motivation go?" "Where did all that passion go?" "Now I only post one piece of art a week and queue all the other stuff in november only." (Well, I didn't start doing that last thing until 2022, so I guess I can always revert my neurotic habits). But then I have to remember that until the summer of 2016, I didn't have a job. I didn't have bills. I lived in dorm rooms and off of college loans that funded my meal plan. Any time I wasn't studying or hanging out with other Cepheids (shout out to the 3 of you who know what that means) I was undoubtedly on the internet, enjoying what the 2010's web had to offer.

Can you believe youtube hadn't officially been around for 10 years at that point? musical.ly hadn't merged with TikTok yet because TikTok hadn't even been created in 2015. Vine still existed. This blog is even older than Undertale's official release.

I can't help but think of my life in "chunks" or "eras", some based on where I lived at the time, some based on the state of the world at the time, but a majority of it based on the media I was obsessed with at that time. (For example, 1998 to 2002 I refer to as the "hawaii era" because my family was military and we were stationed in Hawaii.) Shorter eras can also exist within bigger eras, like 2016 to 2020 is my zoo era, because I was a part time zookeeper, but it exists within my undertale era, which is still ongoing (this hyperfixation has a choke hold on me). So whenever I am given a date, I cross-reference it with what era of my life it occurred in, comparing it to my mental state and what was happening with my life. This blog started in my homestuck era (which went from early 2011 to late 2015) and it fucking showsssssss.

Another example; some of the earliest art on this blog was for Kingdom Hearts, because I am a KH fan. KH3 released in 2019. My blog had just turned 4 years old THREE days prior in 2019. KH3 will be SIX years old three days from today. 2019 was before the pandemic. I was still at my zoo job. Ghost switch wasn't even 1 year old yet. It's this kind of mental math that I am constantly doing for everything all the time whenever I have a date to compare to. Why do I do this? I have no clue. To measure up progress or advancements? To contrast what I've accomplished in that same amount of time versus what others have achieved? I don't know, but I've always done it and I will never stop. The endless forward march of time bewitches me so in this way.

Looking at the years and dates, remembering how it overlapped with my time in college and the memes of the early 2010s, which reminds me of my college era (fall 2011 to spring 2016) which brings up a whole well of other memories, like the world ending in 2012, the let's players I'd watch because I didn't have a gaming console or tv in my dorm, the basketball concessions I'd volunteer at to pay for my ticket to go to the student-run convention in the spring, the libraries and computer labs and dining halls, and shitty dorm room thermostats in winter and it's blaring fire alarms that would go off at 3 am because people microwaved popcorn wrong, and the time it rained so hard on campus that the basement hangout zone flooded.

Man... this whole thing got melancholic. I thought it would be nostalgic, but now it feels like I'm doing an elephant walk for my own blog (again, shout out to the three of you who knows what that even means). I don't know if my past self would recognize or approve of who I am now. And yet, I also can't say i've changed all that much. I still live at home with my family because I can't afford a house of my own. I still keep up with the youtube channels I subscribed to in 2013. I still check in on the webcomics that went on indefinite hiatus in 2010. I still use the same deviantart account I made in 2007. I still log on to my neopets account that I made in 2004.

This blog has been with me through a third of my life.

I don't know what I'll do when I finish Ghost Switch. (which will still take me 6 more years to finish, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere soon). Maybe i'll go back to posting shitty little doodles that I drew quickly in 2 minutes to practice figure drawing. Maybe I'll finally learn to code and make that visual novel I've been brainstorming since 2017. Maybe I'll make more (shorter) webcomics with my own OCs. Maybe I'll sit down and actually seriously think about professionally editing and querying a few of those novel drafts I wrote for nanowrimo, which I've also done for 10 years now, too. Maybe I'll come out of the closet and finally embrace the fact that I am a furry and draw nothing but anthro wolves and dogs.

Last year, I pulled out 10 old composition notebooks that I used as diaries for the years 2005 to 2010. This covered the beginning of seventh grade for me, to the end of 11th grade. Rereading these journals was simultaneously the most hysterical things I've ever written as well as the most depressing shit I've ever written, but that's just middle and high school for ya, babe. Still, I bring it up because when I look back on the past, I never know what I will think or feel about the past in hindsight. Seeing so many informative and hilarious posts from those early years fills me with great joy and also great sorrow, because those times are gone now. The internet landscape has changed so much, tumblr included. I do wish I could go back, sometimes. To go back to being so care-free, to relive those highs fandoms gave me when everything was new and exciting and happening Right Now, to be less stressed out about the state of the world, to laugh at stupid nonsensical rage comic memes.

But I also want to stay right here. To be proud of how far I've come, to appreciate what I've accomplished so far, and to remind myself that Today is good, too. I don't want to waste all my time wishing to go back to the past, because in 10 years from now, I'm going to wish I could come back to Now.

Do I even think tumblr will still be around in 2035? Probably. We're kinda like a roach like that, and also i've got some posts queued for 2033 that i need to see go live for The Bit.

Anyway, to end this reflection on a more positive note, thanks for hanging around for so long. We're all stuck on this glue trap together, but I'm glad I'm with you. These last 10 years have been interesting and wild, both on and off the internet, and I hope the thrills don't stop anytime soon.

[yoongleboonglepie]

Pechsträhne Chapter 8

BTS x Reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter playlist-Youtube music

Chapter Playlist-Spotify

_________________________________________

A/N: This one is lore heavy yall, unwind your red string, grab a notebook and a drink. I am trying to find a 'make-your-own' family tree website that works better on mobile for people to reference as we get DEEP into this stuff so if that's been an issue for yall-don't worry.

I'll see you on the other side~ Delyn

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Jungkook turned to her and shouted something unintelligible, but pointed with his eyes at her body below them. The pounding on the door egged her on, as she crawled over herself to lay down in the same position. Even though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to find her vines. They were weak, and spindly–but they were there. Persistent. Y/n latched herself onto their image and pulled herself towards the withering seedling with all she had left.

She must be drowning, she thought. The water poured from her mouth in heaving coughs, spilling out from her lungs and stomach. Each time she thought she had gotten it all, a violent wave would pummel her, knocking her out of focus and keeping her in a vice grip from where the back of her head was tethered in place. Something tugged on her skull from behind her eyes, leaving her entire body numb. There was no more water, and no more knocking. There was nothing.

Y/n lurched forward, barely missing a collision with Yoongi’s forehead.  

“Holy shit-” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Give her some space!”

Everyone was talking over one another, and Y/n couldn’t seem to focus in on any of them. Her vision was completely gone: Black and void like the day prior. She let herself be pushed backwards by three sets of hands against Yoongi’s thighs where she had just sprung from. Her deprivation of sense leaving her feeling more vulnerable than ever against who she had just escaped from.

“H-help p-please.” The words slurred out from Y/n’s mouth in a much more bumbling manner than she intended. It felt foreign already–moving her tongue and her jaw. She had to refamiliarize herself with what it took to move her actual body. Y/n left her eyes open and blinking. Unseeing. Every muscle in her body tensed at the fright inducing feeling of having to trust her friends to take care of her entirely–because she was as useful as a sack of flour at the moment. 

Jungkook brought their conjoined hands up to his cheek, and she felt the ghost of his lips brush across her knuckles as he murmured unintelligible words of reassurance against her skin. Yoongi kept his hands against her cheeks, smoothing over the skin with his thumbs. A cloud of warmth encased her head, and the familiar feeling of Yoongi’s sweaty forehead pressing against her own brought her senses down from their heightened state, their incessant buzzing in her head calming to a low hum. Long tresses of his hair tickled her skin, and she wrinkled her nose at them. After a few moments filled with a cacophony of their conjoined labored breathing, Yoongi lifted his head from where it had come to rest to check in on her current state. 

Light eroded at  the edges of her vision, blotching reality back into place. Out of focus images of her three friends huddled over her blurred into view, and she let her body go lax in Yoongi’s hold. Y/n waited for her vision to completely settle, the images coming into sharper focus with each passing second. Y/n couldn’t help it but let a sodden smile grace her features, her cheeks wet from where her real body must’ve imitated her spiritual tears.

 “Hi.”  She croaked, finding her voice again. 

“Fucking hell Y/n.” Yoongi ran a hand through his already tousled hair and brought it back down to rub pacifying circles against her cheeks. 

Y/n tried to pull herself upright, but barely made it six inches off the ground before collapsing backwards into them again. She mumbled out a few apologies, feeling ashamed at how helpless she seemed at the moment. Y/n moved to try again, lurching herself forwards with a grunt. Yoongi’s arms came around her shoulders and his hands clasped over her middle to keep her in place.

His words came out in pants. “Stop apologizing and just relax for a minute Goddamnit.” 

Y/n let herself be restrained. She didn’t have it in her to feel awkward or embarrassed about how close everyone was or how each of them insisted on touching some part of her skin: her hand still locked within Jungkook’s and Namjoon’s palm securely pressing onto the top of her thigh. If anything, Y/n didn’t want to admit just how much she relished in the feeling. The warmth of their touch being a tether to her unmoored mind, reassuring her without words that she was back in her body surrounded by the people she felt the safest with. Despite welcoming the moment of respite from the conflict she faced only moments prior, she couldn’t just lay here after what she had seen. It was her job to fill them in. 

“I saw…” Y/n swallowed one of her gasping breaths “so many of them. It was like I was just walking through the house but it was all smokey, and you guys felt like the ghosts while the ghosts felt like the real people. I saw my Oma–she helped me get away from them.” The tears sprang to her eyes from the memory of seeing her again, but she swallowed them down and out of reach. She needed to focus. 

“Get you away from whom?” Namjoon spoke first, sensing her turmoil and doing his best to guide their conversation forward.

“I don’t know. Not all of them anyways. There was this man who was absolutely heinous looking. Pretty much all muscle and bone.” Y/n closed her eyes to think of any signifiers to go off of, racking her brain of everything she could remember him saying. “He was stalking his brother–but the second brother didn’t sound anything like the first–he sounded like my Oma. Normal. Whereas the ugly one sounded like he had choked on the fumes from Hell’s gate.” 

“Did you recognize either of them?” Namjoon prodded further, ignoring her attempts at misplaced humor. 

Y/n shook her head, her breathing finally starting to find its normal rhythm. “No. The not demonic one spoke exclusively in German which makes me think maybe brothers from one of the first two generations. Yet he knew my name, which makes me think more recent.” 

“That doesn’t really matter in the spirit realm.” Yoongi’s voice scratched out from his vocal chords and into their discussion. “Every spirit on these grounds probably knows your name. There are people wandering these halls that have passed from this decade, intermingling with people from over a century ago. Family talks.” 

Y/n looked up at Yoongi as he spoke, his head bowed to look down at her with a clouded expression. He flicked the tip of his tongue to slide pensively across his lower lip as he weighed his next words on them. 

“Did you see anyone else?” Yoongi seemed to settle on that. 

“Patti, the other twin, and a shadow figure that crawled.” She held up a hand to tick them off. “They were who I was running from, and who had been–” Y/n jerked up with a gasp, making Yoongi recoil back with mutter profanities to avoid smashing into one another for the second time. 

Y/n let her eyes rake across the door in a frenzy. As if her brain was still computing that it wasn’t a dream, it dawned on her that only mere seconds had passed since her struggle with the ghosts. 

“Are they still there?” She squeezed Jungkook’s hand and jerked her chin in the direction of the door. 

Jungkook let his irises be consumed with black, and lowered his head to peek under the door frame. They waited with baited breath for him to make his assessment, with him even going as far as to inch towards the door to get a better look in the gap where the door hung above the floorboards. Jungkook funneled a breath from his nostrils and straightened his spine, returning to her side. Only this time he did not face her completely, keeping his body at angle to see both her and the door. 

“Yes.” 

Y/n and the two men next to her all felt the effects of his words: Namjoon’s fingers digging into the meat of her leg and Yoongi rolling off of his knees and to his feet in a low crouch. 

“What else did they say to you, Y/n? Did anything else stick out to you while you were in there?” Yoongi hurriedly poured through her brown paper bag, shoving it to the side when he had found what he was searching for and moving on to his left open chest. He was doing his best to retain a composed facade, but his set jaw and scrunched shoulders gave him away. 

Y/n didn’t take her eyes away from what any other day she would have taken as an unsuspecting door. “Oma said that he was coming for them, but shit hit the fan harder than it already had before she could tell me more.” 

Namjoon made a sound in the back of his throat. “He?” 

Their eyes met in mutual understanding. “Yes. Similar to what Heidi had said in the kitchen.” 

“Do you think it could be your dad? You had said you had thought he was the one she was referring to.” 

Y/n shrugged in Namjoon’s direction. “I don’t know. She had said ‘they first’. Maybe there is more than one person behind it.” Y/n sucked in a breath. “Maybe my mom is the other.” 

Yoongi stood abruptly, a handmade bundle gripped in his fist and a flashlight in the other. The sudden smell of citrus, rosemary, and frankincense invading her senses. He stomped to the door and without hesitation swung it open, turning on the flashlight and shining it in all directions out into the hallway from where he kept his feet planted within the room.

“No offense, but what does a flashlight do?” Namjoon gave a pointed eyebrow raise in Yoongi’s direction. 

“It’s working.” Jungkook answered for him, his brows furrowing and his eyes darting to follow things Y/n could no longer see. 

“Witchcraft doesn’t have to be complicated or traditional all of the time.” Yoongi huffed, and flickered the flashlight off. He made a point to spit out onto the hallway floor, and shoved the door back into place again. “It’s anointed. Works as a direct beam of warding when it would draw too much attention from the neighbors rather than dropping a smoke bomb and risking someone sticking their nose in our business. They can’t stand to be caught in the light from it.” 

“So it’s like a paranormal lightsaber?” Y/n felt a small smirk wiggle up onto her face. 

Yoongi slipped the flashlight into his pocket and returned to their huddle, shooting her a disapproving look. Despite the dry tone he spoke with, the corners of his mouth turned up in the slightest. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.” He sat down on the edge of his bed so she could look directly up at him. “We should make a game plan for tonight. Whoever was involved probably doesn’t have the energy to manifest themselves into our dimension anytime soon–but that doesn’t rule out the dozens of others.” 

“Whatever our game plan is, I vote that it should include each of us getting our own lightsaber.” Y/n leant back onto the hand that wasn’t still entrapped in Jungkook’s. 

“I second that.” Namjoon nodded in agreement. 

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “The two of you can’t even see anything to know where to point it. It totally wouldn’t make your mom suspicious if you both started lighting up like fireflies at the dinner table.” 

“Uh-actually I’ve seen plenty of ghosts now. It would be efficient if I’m ever caught off guard again when I’m alone.” Y/n held up a finger as she corrected him. 

Yoongi scoffed, his eyes filled with sass. “The thing about that is you won’t be alone anymore. Not unless you’re in your room. Especially not after tonight.”

“Ugh–not you too. I thought you had my back about being independent.” 

“I think it’d be good for us all to have something like that.” Jungkook cut in, his eyes having never left the flash light peeking from the pocket of Yoongi’s pants. His face was colored a shade akin to hope–wistful even.

Yoongi paused, taking his time to survey Jungkook’s expression. 

“Okay.” Yoongi relented, his voice softer than before. “I don’t have any more. We will have to get more flashlights so I can make them. We can go into town to get a set of pocket sized ones.” yoongi gained more confidence in his plan, decided on it without any further external input.  “Everyone will carry one on them, and keep one in their rooms.” He held his arm up to fiddle with the watch on his wrist. “Wanna go now?” 

The rest of the three traded looks of uncertainty. 

“Right now? It’s closing in on 10pm…” Namjoon couldn’t hide the incredulous look erupting on his features. 

“Walmart doesn’t care.” Yoongi shrugged. “And neither will the ghosts.” 

_________________________________________

Walmart was nearly empty with less than an hour left until close. The disgruntled stares of each employee they had passed since the entrance, and the hovering late teen electronics employee didn’t seem to phase Yoongi as he strutted ahead of them. To any onlookers they probably looked like a group of college seniors doing a midnight snack run: all of them donned in comfy clothes, scraggly and tired as they waddled through the isles towards the tools section. 

Yoongi was comparing flashlight specs with Namjoon, the two far too busy bickering about which one had the best battery life to notice when Y/n nudged Jungkook's side. He made a small noise of surprise, and tilted his head with rounded eyes to regard her in a silent question. Y/n gestured with her finger for him to bring his ear down closer to her mouth, and he did so without question. 

“You wanna come pick out a few snacks with me? My treat.” She whispered up to him and beamed innocently up in his direction. He didn’t verbally answer, yet didn’t resist when she slipped her hand into his to tug him in the direction of the cold foods. 

Y/n never felt the urge to drop his hand as they perused the novelty ice cream pints, the weight of his hand in hers becoming second nature. But alas, she had to let go in the name of ice cream. Y/n held two flavors in her hand, having trouble deciding which to go for. She spun around to face Jungkook, who was staring intently at an unknown flavor behind the frosty freezer doors. 

“Which do you think I should get? Cookie dough or white chocolate raspberry?” Y/n held both small containers up for him to see the brightly colored descriptions, his face impassive as he scanned the labels. He held up an inked finger and poked at the one in her right hand. 

 “Cookie dough. That’s your favorite.” 

Y/n hummed, placing the white chocolate flavor back into the freezer. “After all these years you still remember that.” She shook her head with a chuckle. He let out an offended scoff.

“Of course I do.” Jungkook stated matter-of-factly. “I remember everything about you.” 

Y/n let the freezer door slam closed on its own and moved onto the next door, hovering a hand over it. “Everything?” 

Jungkook nodded, and spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to him. 

“Everything.” 

Her breath hitched, and she left her hand clench and unclench on the freezer handle. His eyes were sincere, not a single cloud of doubt or humor speckling his russet irises. Y/n felt a flush creep up her neck, and her ears warm in conjunction to it. Jungkook cocked his head and one of his brows twitched in her direction. 

“Are you alright? Your face is turning red.” Even if they had made strides, he was still as blunt as ever. 

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a little tired, that's all.” She jerked the next freezer door open and pulled out another pint. “I think I might get two, actually.” 

Y/n emerged with a container so cold it made her fingertips numb, and held it up for him to see. She watched his eyes practically glaze over as they took in the picture, before jumping up to meet hers again. 

“You like mint ice cream now?” Shock made itself evident in his tone. 

She gave him a coy smile and shrugged her shoulders. “It grew on me once I learned the difference between mint species.”  

A grin bloomed across his face. “Finally- someone understands!” He took the container from her hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot in excitement. “It doesn’t taste like toothpaste. If it does the brand-”

“-Used the wrong kind of mint.” Y/n finished for him and pushed the freezer door shut with her hip. “Spearmint is toothpaste and gum. Peppermint is for desserts. It’s why candy canes and peppermint bark don’t burn my tongue like mouthwash or toothpaste. It’s smoother and sweeter.” 

Jungkook couldn’t hide his joy as he juggled the container from one hand to the other, sending her a lopsided grin that made her heart throb. “Mint ice cream is my favorite.” 

“I know. I remember stuff about you too.” Y/n started out of the cold aisle without checking if he was following. She didn’t feel like being called out on the flustered state he put her in again with something as effortless as a smile. 

Y/n heard the squeak of his sneakers on the tile behind her as he took to a casual jog to catch up. 

“Your cheeks are still red.” 

Of course she could never run from his observant eyes. Y/n quickened her pace and took a sharp turn into the snack aisle with him hot on her heels. They barely made it halfway down the chip section before Yoongi’s voice rang out from the end they had just entered from. 

“I look away for two seconds and you guys scurry off without so much as a word.” He reprimanded as he ambled down the aisle after them, Namjoon following in his footsteps with his hands in his pockets. 

“I wanted snacks. I just went through something traumatizing and deserve a special little treat.” Y/n pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Or am I not allowed to process my emotions in unhealthy ways anymore, Mr. Therapist?” 

Yoongi clicked his tongue.  “I didn’t say that. I would just like a heads up next time before you two lovebirds disappear on me.” 

Y/n blanched, and she could very well see steam evaporating from her face. “W-we’re not–It’s not-” She couldn’t stop tripping over her own tongue. An accusation like this had never bothered her before, as they had been anything but few and far between growing up. She didn’t understand why suddenly she felt the need to defend herself against them. 

“Okay dad. Will do.” Jungkook rolled his eyes with a tiny teasing smile, appearing to be unbothered by his comment. 

“Ugh–how can you eat that stuff?” Namjoon unknowingly saved Y/n from melting into an embarrassed puddle on the spot with his disgusted outburst. His face scrunched in on itself as he pointed to the tub of mint oreo ice cream in Jungkook’s hand. 

“Because it’s good.” Jungkook over-enunciated the last word and wagged his head in Namjoon’s direction. 

Namjoon choked on his own spit. “If you think eating toothpaste is appetizing.” 

“IT’S NOT SPEARMINT, JOON!” 

“It doesn’t taste like that!” 

Y/n and Jungkook’s voices overlapped in indignant fury, and Namjoon just about sucked his eyes into the back of his skull with how forcefully he rolled them. “Whatever.” 

“Sorry to interrupt your riveting debate, but you guys should finish up. The store closes soon and I still need to anoint these and head to bed before your dad takes to the catwalk tonight.” Yoongi brushed past the three of them, reaching up over Y/n’s head for a bag of flavored potato chips and continuing down the aisle. Namjoon followed suit, snatching a black bag of white cheddar popcorn on his way out. 

Y/n called after him, her voice dripping with sass. “How can you eat that stuff Joon? It tastes like spiced packing peanuts!” 

The man in question didn’t bother looking back, just held up a brief middle finger at her which she stuck her tongue at. Jungkook cackled next to her, making her heart swarm with butterflies that migrated into all of the nooks and crannies of her ribcage. All of these new feelings her friends were nurturing from within were making her head hurt, and left her feeling disoriented each time they made themselves known. Y/n would definitely have to get a handle on it asap.

Taking a moment to let his laughter die down, they returned to their grazing of the snack shelves; handpicking out a few different types of candy, and a few bags of chips to try. After making a brief pit stop at the chocolate milk and protein shake selection and loading up on anything that caught either of their eyes, they circled up to the self checkouts where Namjoon and Yoongi waited for them. They appeared to be discussing the new greenhouse set up when they approached, Namjoon describing the construction team’s reign of terror on his petunias and other assorted flowers they had yet to transplant. 

Yoongi gestured for the two younger arrivals to follow after him, still listening to Namjoon’s complaints as he scanned his items. When Y/n moved to step around him to the next open checkout, Yoongi waved a dismissive hand in her direction and plucked the items from their hands to add to his order. He held a hand up to shush each of her protests with a “I’m trying to listen”, and she knew to give up fighting. As the pile grew he made a few comments about them breaking his bank account, but the comments held no actual heat behind them if his pink tinted ears were anything to go by. She just tucked the thought of paying for their next outing into her back pocket as consolation. 

They all packed into the raised Jeep Wrangler with different levels of coordination: Yoongi hopped into the driver's seat with ease, and Jungkook took the elevated step up in stride.  Y/n managed to grunt her way into her seat but did much better than Namjoon had in comparison–him somehow managing to bump both his shin and his forehead on the vehicle’s exterior as he clambered into the passenger seat, earning a disbelieving stare from Yoongi and a bark of laughter from Y/n. 

The wind from the open windows blew off any of the residual energy from her paranormal encounter out into the open air. The balance of chilled night air coupled with the warmed seats and soft piano music tinkling through the speakers made Y/n’s head begin to loll onto her folded arms that leant on the lip of her open window. Her eyelids drooped, her ears unable to make out any words from the hushed conversation batting in between the front seats. Her eyes briefly caught Yoongi’s from the rearview mirror, and he sent her a minute smile before her eyes finally gave up their fight to stay open. 

“Y/n–come on. You’re starting to get cold.” Y/n stirred from her slumped position, her eyes blinking open. An out of focus Jungkook blurred into her vision from where he stood outside of the car, her door propped open and a gray plastic bag hanging from his wrist.  

“What?” She bleated, her eyes languidly dragging in her surroundings. The car was still rumbling beneath her, but it was unmoving out front of the estate. The lights blared down at her from the ceiling, and the driver side door was left open. “Sorry…” Y/n moved at a snail's pace to slide from her seat, swaying slightly when her feet hit the gravel. 

One of Jungkook’s hands snapped up to her upper arm to steady her, and she smiled gratefully up at him in thanks. Namjoon was nowhere to be seen, but Yoongi was skipping down the stairs from over Jungkook’s shoulder with empty hands. Y/n guessed that he had dropped the rest of the goods in the kitchen and his room while he waited for her to wake from her nap. She took staggering steps towards the steps of the estate; her grogginess depleting her already low coordination levels. 

Jungkook kept in time with her, a supportive hold on her arm for each hike of her foot on the stone steps and through the propped open doors. He guided the two of them towards the kitchen, tiptoeing through the doors and towards the heap of plastic bags on the counter. Jungkook finished the trek towards the center island and dug through the bags with relaxed movements, yet Y/n’s steps lingered near the entrance. She couldn’t help but let her gaze wander over to the doors that separated them from the dining room. The image of the shredded man looming on the other side of the wood made goosebumps track across her skin–her brain still having trouble computing that what she had seen had been happening in real time, and wasn’t a separate place that didn’t have any true impact on her. That they were lurking around in the rooms at all times on the other side in an exact mirror to how she and her friends were. Any of them could be in here with us right now…she stilled, her muscles tightening their hold to lock her joints in place. 

“What’s wrong?” The sound of plastic bags rustling subsided, Jungkook’s voice taking their place. 

Y/n whirled to look at him with wide eyes, his voice startling her from her thoughts. “Nothing!” She took tentative steps towards the island and away from the door, but her eyes kept being tugged back to the dining room no matter how hard she tried to wrench them away. “I was just…Thinking. That’s all.” 

She finally managed to make it to the island and place her palms that were still warm from sleep onto its cool surface. Jungkook gave her a once over, his face an open book that’s title must have something to do with doubt or disbelief. He brushed past her and towards the dining room door. 

“Jungkook! Wait-” 

He didn’t listen to Y/n’s protests, swinging open the door and holding it in place to give him a perfect view of the dining room. Jungkook’s coal-like eyes did a full sweep from corner to corner, before backtracking into the kitchen and letting the door swing shut behind him. 

“Nothing in there to worry about.” He breezed past her and returned to putting away the snacks they had acquired. As he passed, she saw the glint of the edge of Yoongi’s flashlight sticking up from his pocket. The sight helped to soothe some of her racing thoughts. 

Y/n followed close behind him with her arms hugging around her middle, not keen on keeping much space between them at the moment. “Nothing to worry about as in ‘empty’ or as in ‘something is there but they don’t seem to want to kill me’?” 

Jungkook lifted the mint oreo container from the bag and onto the island top, grabbing the cookie dough pint out from the same spot and piling it into an already overflowing freezer. She thought for a minute that he was going to ignore her question–but to her surprise–his mouth opened the moment he bent to pull two spoons from the drawer at his hip. 

“Nothing that wants to kill you.” Jungkook held a spoon out for her to take; a rounded one that she had stolen from the Adelaide as a child and declared as her favorite when she was six. 

Y/n pinched the spoon from his fingers and fidgeted with the handle, content with watching him pop the lid off of the ice cream and drop it to the countertop below while she deliberated on his response in her mind. Jungkook glided to spoon across the flat top, the pale green treat curling up and over into the perfect glistening bite that he raised to wrap his lips around. He let the bite sit in his mouth, raising an eyebrow her way when she didn’t move to dig in after him. 

“Who is it? In the dining room I mean.” Y/n mimicked his previous action, the smooth mound of soft creamy peppermint melting on her tongue and leaving chewy pieces of chocolate cookie where it had once been. 

Jungkook took another spoonful, letting the spoon hang from his mouth before removing it with a ‘pop’. “I’m not completely sure. I see them in the dining room a lot.” He carved his spoon into the carton once more. “From their habits I’d guess one of the o.g Kim’s.” 

Y/n let out a small gasp around her spoon. “Really? Wouldn’t you be able to recognize them then from all the pictures?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened naturally as his lips pulled around the spoon, reminiscent of a younger and much lankier version of himself. He dragged out an ambivalent hum. 

“Not necessarily. I can’t always tell who I’m looking at if they don’t interact with me.” 

“Huh. I thought you could just see everyone all of the time?” Y/n held her spoon over the opening of the carton, waiting for him to finish his strip before making her own.

Jungkook shook his head once. “No. I can only see them in detail if I’ve interacted with them a lot, or if they outwardly tell me who they are in some way or another. Or if…” His voice trailed off temporarily, but with a quick twitch of his head he pushed onwards. “Or if I was around when they died.” He swallowed forcefully, avoiding her eyes to poke around for a bigger cookie piece. “Otherwise they just look like shadowy figures or blurry faces.” 

“Oh.” 

They took turns digging into the ice cream, Y/n taking her time to think up her next question. He seemed to be in a talkative mood, and she wanted to seize the opportunity while it lasted. Y/n’s next bite had been unexpectedly soft, dribbling onto her chin and her shirt.

“How can you tell it’s one of the Kim’s then?” Her spoon made a clinking sound when she lowered it to the counter top. She spun around to look for a paper towel or napkin to dab at the mess she had made, finding her search unsuccessful. Jungkook reached behind him, tearing one off of the roll and passing it to her before he answered. 

“There’s two of them. They sit at the table late at night or early in the morning, and even though I can’t see what they are holding, I can tell from how they are moving that they are drinking a cup of tea together.” He cleared his throat, having swallowed his bite too quickly, “Kind of like how Mr. Kim and his dad had done before he passed.” 

Y/n waited to respond until she was sure she had scraped away the spot from her chin. “Even if you can piece that together, you still can’t see them yet?” 

“No. Because they haven’t interacted with me yet. They don’t seem to interact with anyone.” 

“Huh. Residual maybe.” 

Jungkook shrugged, scooping more ice cream into his mouth. 

Y/n picked up her spoon for her next mouthful, but this time Jungkook paused his scooping just as she had done before. It took her a couple bites to register that he was staring at her, his expression taking on the same unreadable nature it had earlier that day. Y/n slowed her motions, releasing the spoon from her mouth and putting it back on the counter next to where his hand rested with his own utensil twiddling between his fingers. Y/n brought the back of her hand up to her face to rub at her cheeks and chin, worried she had missed a spot. 

“Do I still have ice cream on my face?” She felt around, but found nothing out of place. 

“No you’re fine.” His eyes flickered down to her chin and back up to hers. He tore his attention from her face and back down to the ice cream in front of him. He brought his spoon up into the air to make another stab into the half empty container, holding it aloft just before he touched its surface. 

“Y/n, can I ask you some-”

Both of their heads whipped to the right when Namjoon made his less than coordinated appearance through the swinging dining room door. He beelined straight to the cabinets behind the two of them to rummage for his bag of popcorn, bulldozing through three separate cabinets until he found his target. Jungkook closed himself off, retracting back into his shell at his interruption. 

The interruption in question didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, popping open the black bag and leaning his elbows on the counter at the spot next to Y/n. Completely ignorant to his intrusion. He shook the bag, tucking his chin down to peer down his nose at its contents and taking a small handful and pouring it into his mouth. Each handful he took was unnecessarily noisy, the bag somehow managing to get louder each time his hand slid in to pull out more.  After his fifth handful Y/n couldn’t hold back the twitch of her eye.  

“Joon. Seriously.” 

“What? I’m not judging you for your abomination of a snack choice.” A piece fell from where he cradled a few in his palm, and he swept it into a pile onto the counter with his other hand. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how ridiculously loud you’re being at the moment.” 

Namjoon scoffed, tossing in another bunch of popcorn into his mouth and reaching down to dust the white powder onto his pants. “It’s an aluminum bag. They crinkle.” He swallowed his bite, and swept the collection of dropped pieces into a cupped hand to walk it to the trash can. “What–was I interrupting something?” 

Y/n simply shook her head, and tossed her spoon into the sink with a sigh. 

“What?” He walked back over to where Y/n and Jungkook stood. 

“First you kicked me earlier today and now you attack my ears with the ungodly loud sound of your dishonorable taste.” 

Namjoon jerked his chin back, ignoring the jab at his preferences. “I didn’t kick you–what are you talking about?” 

“Yes you did,” Y/n faltered in her step towards the freezer, “at breakfast to keep me from  trying to follow Hoseok.” 

Namjoon knit his eyebrows together with a slow side to side motion of his head. 

“No I didn’t Y/n. I don’t care if you talk to him.” 

Y/n turned to Jungkook, narrowing her eyes in an accusation at him from around the open door to the freezer. “Was it you?” 

“No.” Jungkook’s tone was flat as he dropped his spoon next to hers.  

Y/n shut the freezer door and pinched her face together in thought. They were the only people sat across from her besides her brother. Well–the only people besides her brother and Jin. But what reason would Jin have to keep her from talking to Hoseok?

Y/n blew the thoughts away with a sharp exhale. The idea that Jin of all people would have any reason to keep them separated felt too out of left field. One of the men in front of her must be lying–and it probably was Jungkook. Tracking away from the fridge and back towards the kitchen island, she hoisted herself up onto the counter top to sit between them. 

“Whoever kicked me–uncalled for. Don’t do it again.” 

Both men on either side of her shared an unsure shrug, and Namjoon pulled out one of the stools with his foot and slid onto its cushioned surface. Jungkook settled for leaning back against the counter near the stove. The foot in the door she had had with him minutes before was now gone. They only had to endure a few more ear-splitting bites, their saving grace arriving in a pair of sweats and slightly out of breath.  

‘I see you all made yourselves comfortable while I had to hike uphill from the parking lot by myself.” Yoongi waddled over to the cabinet that Namjoon had pulled the popcorn from, snatching out his potato chips and sauntering back towards the hallway. “We need to move. On my trek back I saw your mom’s car pull in from up the hill–and even at my distance I could tell the energy in the car was all kinds of fucked up.” 

All of them came to life simultaneously, shuffling in a line along the banister and towards the steps. Y/n’s foot barely brushed the first step when an idea took hold of her, pulling her backwards for Namjoon to stumble into. 

“Y/n, what are you doing? Let's go.” Namjoon gave a gentle nudge of her shoulder’s forward, but she planted her feet and resisted with all of her strength. 

Then she heard it. A faint whisper called to her from the study, and she could’ve sworn she caught a glimpse of her grandmother’s eyes glinting at her through the miniscule crack of the pocket doors.

Y/n shoved past Namjoon and Jungkook, and slid open the wooden panels just enough for her to slide into. “You guys go ahead. I have something I want to do first.” 

“Like hell you’re doing anything by yourself.” Yoongi’s feet thundered down the steps after her, retreating the steps he had just made. He shoved his bag of chips into Jungkook’s chest and used his now free hand to stop the door from closing in his face. “Do you have a death wish?” 

“No.” Y/n pursed her lips, rethinking her statement. “Maybe–I’m going to eavesdrop on my mom. I just have a gut feeling.” Y/n disappeared into the dark study, surprising even herself with her sudden bravery when just in the kitchen she couldn’t bear the thought of being by herself. 

“Jesus fucking Christ–Joon: the flashlights are on your bed. In my chest I have the instructions for what I did to anoint them, just follow the steps exactly as they are written. Jungkook.” Yoongi turned to the youngest and held both hands up in front of his face. Jungkook seemed to understand the silent command, slipping the flashlight from his pocket and tossing it in a flying arch into Yoongi’s awaiting hands. 

“You both go do that. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.” Yoongi spat, running his fingers through his hair and slipping after her into the pitch black study before either of them could protest.

Yoongi and Y/n faced each other in a crouch, their shoulders brushing against the wooden doors and their eyes locked on each other's from across the gap Y/n had left for peeking; reminiscent of the way her and her grandmother had done only a couple hours prior. Yoongi’s eyes shined at her with a dangerous glint, but they both remained silent. 

Her mother barged through the front door, aggressively throwing her keys into the ceramic bowl near the door in a huff. Y/n heard the sound of her mother struggling to remove her jacket, the fabric flapping about frantically and catching on her elbows. Yoongi had the best view–the side he was on enabled him to spy on her through the gap in the door. His eyes paused their survey, something entrapping his focus. 

“Do you need any help?” 

Y/n’s eyes bugged out of her skull, Jin’s voice sounding from the other side of the door confirming any earlier suspicions she may have had about his whereabouts. 

“No.” Her mother snapped, and Y/n watched the shadow of her feet glide across the floor in the direction of the hall and into her restricted line of sight. Her mother stopped just after the dining room doors, shifting to regard Jin over her shoulder.

“I apologize for being short with you–I’ve had quite a draining day today. Make sure he gets to bed safely.” Her mother’s steps resumed their path towards the hall, the shadow vanishing with her exit. 

When the two figures passed the crack in the door, she was able to get a better picture. Y/n watched as not one, but two sets of feet followed the same direction, only this time she heard them start a slow trek up the steps towards the second floor landing. Y/n concealed her gasp with the palm of her hand when they passed in front of the gap for her to catch a glimpse of the way Jin was carrying almost the entirety of their friend’s body weight. Hoseok did not sound good, and how he looked wasn’t much better off. His air curling and sticking to the nape of his neck with sweat, an old t-shirt hanging off of thin shoulders that’s collar looked soaked all the way down to his shoulder blades. Did her mom do something to them? It couldn’t be a coincidence that her and her mother got into a spat that ended with fingers pointed in their direction, and for her to return home late with the said guilty parties in tow; not to mention one in poor condition. Y/n watched their ascending figures until she couldn’t, unable to take her eyes off of Hoseok’s etiolated slump of a body against Jin’s side. 

“Can I get you anything from the kitchen before we get you settled?” Jin’s voice was not above a murmur. 

“No.” Hoseok ground out through his teeth, his steps dragging out behind Jin’s. “Just let me lay down please.” 

They said nothing else, just a few ragged breaths from Hoseok and a couple muted grunts from Jin while they crept the way to the top of the stairs, dragging their feet through the landing.

“We should really head back up to get this all finished before she finds us together.” Yoongi hissed.

“No. I need to keep going.” 

Without warning, Y/n shoved through the gap in the door and kept her steps light to follow after her mother. Y/n made it just in time to see mother’s shadow dissipate beneath her father’s office door, the light pooling from beneath the door much too dim to be able to tell where abouts in the room she moved. Y/n melted into the wall, Yoongi sidling up next to her with the flashlight gripped tightly in his fist. They shuffled on their toes down towards the edge of the door frame, and Y/n held her breath as she leaned forward to listen in on the muffled voices from the other side.  Yoongi did the same, spinning on the balls of his feet to leap across the beam of light to stand on the opposite side of the frame to face each other once more. Their ears virtually pressed into the wooden border to help the sound waves reach them with less difficulty.

“I made a few calls today–it’s settled. We may have to shovel more money into their pockets but that can’t be helped. Whatever it takes to get him out of here is fine by me.” Her mothers heels clicked across the floor, and she heard the faint whistle of air releasing from the leather office chair behind her father’s desk and assumed she had seated herself in it. 

“Alright.” Her father’s voice slurred, tracking sideways from his mouth and tumbling out without control of where the sound went. 

Her mother heaved out a breath. “He will need to be packed up and off well before dinner. Please try and see him before he goes, will you? We have an image to keep up with.” 

Only silence followed. 

“In other news, If you’d like an update on your daughters–Amelia is enjoying her time in France–says she met a boy.” Y/n heard a smile seep through her mother’s words. 

Her father croaked out a disjointed hum. “Did she now?” 

“Mmmhmm. Says he’s ‘nothing special’, but a mother knows how to read her daughter like the back of her hand. I suspect there will be a new addition at the Christmas table this year.” Her mother let out a tinkling laugh, her father’s much quieter one wheezing out from his chest. There was a palpable lull in their conversation before her mother spoke up again. 

“Y/n is…adjusting.” 

Her father grunted out a reply, but it was too jumbled for Y/n to understand. 

“No–I’ve made sure of it.” 

Anselm's first words were of a whisper too quiet for the eavesdroppers to hear. But his next ones were loud and clear. A cry into the night. “Mother, please. Do not lie to me. He says this is the only way.”

 The office chair creaked, and the sound of her mother’s shoes traveled further into the office. 

“Anselm, stay with me.” Her voice cut itself off and Y/n heard the rug from near the fireplace rustle with movement. “Would you like to see pictures Amelia sent me today?” Y/n had never heard her mother sound so desperate and warbled. It almost made Y/n feel sorry for her. Almost. 

A rattling cough barked out from her father’s chest, making both Y/n and Yoongi jump a few inches off of the ground. His vocal chords rubbed against one another as if coated in shards of glass: scratchy and inhuman. 

“Y/n…Come to me please. I know you’re there.” He coughed once more, and she heard one staggering step reverberate through the floor. “I can see you, Entlein.”

Yoongi grabbed her wrist, tugging her back down the hall with haste. Y/n thanked the gods that they had both taken off their shoes, and for the carpet muffling the way their soles struck the ground with each push up the stairs. Yoongi didn’t stop pulling her forward until he was shoving her in front of him and into her own bedroom, skidding in behind her and locking the door behind them. 

“There’s no way he could’ve actually seen me right?” Y/n panted, whirling to face him. 

“I don’t know Y/n.” His tone was frantic, and he signaled for her to stay quiet while he listened out for any creak, hum or groan to signify that they had been followed.

“Were they talking about you? She wouldn’t do anything shady to get rid of you–right?”

“Y/n–I don’t know! Now shush so I can listen please!” Yoongi’s words were intended to be sharp, but missed their shot like an arrow released from a bow that was tied much too loose.  He held his flashlight at the ready, and kept his back pressed against the door with his feet dug into the ground in front of him. Once Yoongi decided the coast was clear he slumped against the back of her door and slid to the floor. 

“Your dad’s voice–did it sound familiar to you at all?” 

“I mean yeah, it was my dad.” Y/n fixed him with an incredulous look. 

The glare he gave her was unimpressed, his eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. She thought back to her father’s final utterance–the way his voice had shifted and the hairs on her arms that had stood up in response. She replayed the sound again, except this time it began to overlap with the man from the other side–with even Hadwin’s snarls making an appearance from the crevices of her mind–each of their phrases piling one on top of the other. She could practically see the way his skeletal jaw shook with each syllable.

 “How nice of you to join us, Entlein.”

“I will kill you where you stand, wretched bitch.”

“I can see you, Entlein.”

They sounded the same. 

Y/n pulled at the hair on her head. Her own voice doing little to drown out the memory of their echoing voices.

 “Shit.” 

After trading a debrief with Jungkook and Namjoon for two anointed flashlights, she had been left to her own devices in her room to avoid any run-in with her father. Y/n couldn’t get herself to sleep a wink that night. The events from that day fully caught up to her now that she had no friends and no pint of ice cream to fend them off with. That’s how she found herself in her current predicament: Her back pressed against her closet door and one of her flashlights crushed between her fingers. She waited–holding her breath when her father’s steps stopped outside her door with a finger pressing dangerously close to the on button but never putting enough pressure to turn it on. If she had thought she was scared of her father before, then the only word to describe how she felt about him being just on the precipice of her space was pure terror.

When her father turned his way back down the hallway, Y/n launched into action. Scraping her chair out from beneath her desk and scrambling for an empty journal. If they had still had time before bed, she would’ve made Yoongi or Jungkook escort her to the cellar and attic to go through her childhood belongings for her handmade family tree they had scrapbooked as a family when she was seven. Each sister making their own with printed out photos they had butchered with children’s scissor’s into choppy edged shapes to fit into the small frames of each designated member. 

But they hadn’t had the time. Which meant Y/n had to do what she did best: figure it out on her own. 

The main branches had come to her memory with ease–their names and basic stories tossed around with as much reverence as bible stories were discussed in church. The set up may not have been as perfect as the custom hand designed map they had been given as children to fill out, but it got the job done. Once she had their names, she started to add her own notes. Underneath Hadwin’s lopsided bubble, she scribbled down a quick ‘X’ to mark his current…unsightly circumstances. She did the same with the twins, Annelise, and Patti. Her pen hovered over her sister’s name, her shaky hand making the ink wiggle onto the paper as she drew another ‘x’ beneath it. 

Once she had finished up with that task, she pulled out another sheet of paper and tried to jot down as many names of the Kim, Jung, Jeon, and Min line as she could remember and tucked the paper beneath her makeshift family tree. She followed each slanted line with her pen, notating each set of brothers that could’ve possibly been whoever she had seen on the other side. If Y/n wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on, she would need to brush up on her history–and she had just the person to go to for help. 

_________________________________________

Y/n’s eyes blinked blearily at the sun that started to seep through her blinds and onto her indecipherable words that careened off the paper into unintentional stripes where her hand had continued trying to write even if her brain had succumbed to an hour of rest. The sound of shoes scuffling on the carpet outside of her door brought her eyes open further. She lifted her head from where it had fallen onto her desk and stared at the shadow of feet as they drifted to the side and down the hall. 

Despite having almost no sleep, Y/n could feel the buzz lingering beneath her skin that charged her forward like the world’s strongest cup of coffee. She pulled her clothes in a speed that could have won her a record, and pulled open her door expecting to find Jungkook leaning against the wall between Yoongi’s room and her own–but found no person waiting for her on the other side. What she did find was a neon sticky note stuck to her door. 

“Meet me in the ballroom at 1. ~Your second ex husband :)” 

Y/n’s heart thumped in her chest, and she fiddled with the paper between her fingers. An unstoppable smile slithered her lips upwards, but she felt it wobble when her mind conjured up the ashen image of him from the night before–reminding her what her purpose was for today. The recollection only gives fuel to her already ever-present tenacity forth tenfold.

She raced back into her room, grabbing the makeshift list and family tree and shoving them along with the sticky note into her pocket. Y/n pulled out her phone from her pocket to dial Jungkook when a few missed text messages had her attention derailed to read them.

New messages in ‘The Most Annoying and Toxic Coworkers’

[Jungkook]: Namjoon will have to pick you up today. Your mom is home. 

[Zoltar]: Home and in the way. The foyer is a wreck. 

[Zoltar]: You’re going to want to make a pitstop at your brother’s room–whether for better or for worse–It wasn’t me they were talking about paying to get rid of last night. 

As she was reading a new message appeared, shoving the rest further up her screen. 

[Joon 🌱]: I’m on my way to get you. Prepare yourself.

Y/n didn’t have time to ponder what he meant with his message–for he was already rounding the corner down her hall. Namjoon’s face was slightly gray from what seemed to now be a mutual lack of sleep and he had both hands shoved into his pockets with his head slightly bowed. He picked his head up when he was a few yards out from her room, and his neck flushed. He was either already lying or preparing himself to. 

“Y/n–” 

“How bad is it?”  Y/n demanded, leaving no room for his bumbling attempts at dishonesty. 

Namjoon puffed out his cheeks and sucked in a breath. “She’s having cameras put up, so I have no idea what this means for us. And your brother is being sent to boarding school early–or late–however you want to look at it.” 

Y/n was beside herself at the news. Her anger rose in waves, her mother’s magnetic pull never failing to elicit a high tide in Y/n’s emotional sea. She did her best to shove it down: if she blew up right now it wouldn’t help her case in her mother’s eyes.  

“Why would she even bother–he will just be home in barely two months anyways?” Y/n met Namjoon outside Yoongi’s door, and didn’t bother stopping her strides to chat. Namjoon immediately kept in step with her, spinning on his feet to follow. 

“Well that’s the thing–I don’t think he’s going to the same one you did.” 

“What makes you say that?” They reached the top of the stairs, and Namjoon’s answer was pulled from between his teeth by the label on passerby’s uniform.

 Brighten’s Center for Boys–Est 1978, NY

“I looked it up. They go year round with only short week-long breaks here and there.” Namjoon’s voice was tight. 

The man’s shirt was bunched up, and damp despite the weather not being a degree over 68. He had a large taped cardboard box balanced on his forearms with Roland’s name scrawled on the side in black marker. Y/n skittered down the steps, swinging on the banister as she turned down the hall. New York? Steam billowed from Y/n’s ears when she swallowed down scathing choice words for her mother. Did her mom even want any of them around anymore? She recounted the way her mother had sounded so relieved to have him gone, and spurred herself on faster. 

Y/n passed her father’s office, and headed straight down the hall where she could see one of the bedroom doors propped open by another mover leaned up against a moving cart. She could hear her mother shouting out orders from her distance, and almost bit her own tongue off to keep from stomping in with guns blazing. 

“This pile can go–thank you.” 

Y/n rounded the corner just behind the man that entered to grab the stack her mother had directed him to. Her brother’s room was in shambles: half packed and bed stripped. She tried to not let her eyes linger around for too long, the sight playing much too close to how it had looked the days following her sister’s death. Her mother’s eyes met hers from over the mover’s shoulder, and Y/n saw her composure crack if only momentarily. Then like she did best, her mother patched it back up with indifference. 

“What’s going on here?” Y/n could feel Namjoon’s astonishment at how well Y/n managed to disguise her rage in her question. 

Y/n’s mother must have also been expecting an explosion, because the muscles in her shoulders visibly uncoiled themselves beneath her sweater. 

“An opening came up at one of the boarding schools we were looking to enroll Ro in. We couldn’t pass it up and risk him not having a spot in the fall.” The older woman crouched onto her knees to commence the daunting task of piling all of her brother’s stuffed dogs into a box to her right. 

Lies. Y/n though, but kept her words within herself. 

Y/n put one hand into her back pocket, and leant up against Roland’s now empty dresser. “And the men outside?” 

Mariah avoided Y/n’s stare, looking far too interested than necessary at a plush dalmatian in her hands. 

“They are setting up cameras at all of the entrances. Your father and I determined that it was necessary again with the uptick in guests for this year’s events.” 

Y/n pursed her lips, her hand drumming on the dresser as she nodded in feigned disinterest. Roland stumbled from his bathroom, still clad in a set of dog themed pajamas, and her mother found her conversational escape. 

“Did you sort through all of your toiletries?” 

Her brother nodded, his eyes wide and unable to look at the spot Y/n stood near his door. 

“Good. I will run those out to one of the movers to put in our car for easy access.” Mariah dropped the stuffed animal she was holding and hustled into the bathroom her brother had just left. Y/n’s eyes followed her as she returned with a firetruck red duffle bag over her shoulder and set off in search of someone to take it off of her hands. 

Y/n waited for a moment to see if her mother would return, and when she didn’t she let her gaze fall on her brother. Roland still stood in the middle of his room like a deer in headlights, looking just out of place as she suspected he felt. 

“How are you feeling about school? Excited?”  Y/n tried to keep her voice light as to not scare him off. 

Roland shrugged and pulled at the sleeves of his shirt. “I guess so.” 

“I was nervous the first year I was sent off. You’ll get used to it after a while.” Y/n sent him a reassuring smile that he only saw part of with his wandering eyes. 

Roland inched over to his bed, and lowered himself onto the bare mattress. His eyes flickered to the door and then back at Y/n. His shoulders curled in on him, and he couldn’t keep his feet still. He was nervous to be around her. Another stab into Y/n’s heart that they were more distant than ever. 

“Hey, I bet you’ll do great.” She had to rip the next few words from the depths of her soul, every cell in her body screaming at her not to. “You’re the next big brave owner after all.” 

Even though Y/n’s words sounded uplifting, Roland seemed to find them uncomfortable. 

“Why did they send you to boarding school?” Roland asked his questions with his eyes still checking the doorway for their mother’s return. 

“Well…” Y/n pushed herself from the dresser and bounced down onto the mattress next to him. “They just thought it’d be best for me–and I bet it’s the same reason for you.” 

Roland shifted in his seat at her answer, his hands tugging harder at the edge of his shirt. His mouth opened to say something else, but rerouted to instead utter something far too quiet for Y/n to understand. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up bud–the world is going topsy turvy out in the halls.” Y/n jabbed at his arm lightly with her elbow in jest, but he didn’t smile. 

“Did you leave because of me?” 

Y/n’s brows knit at the sudden inquiry, not expecting him to ask her such a thing. But it dawned on Y/n as she watched him shimmy in his seat that he might have been too young to grasp what had truly happened that night. And she doubted her mother had run to Y/n’s defenses if it had been brought up before.

“What? No!” Y/n blinked down at him, her mouth opening and closing to find the right words. “Have you thought that this whole time?” 

Roland shrugged, his head bowing in shame. “A little. I started the fight.” 

“Well stop thinking that. It wasn’t your fault what happened–Mom and Dad are the ones who lied, not you. You didn’t know any better.” Y/n turned her body to face him, trying her best to meet his avoidant gaze. “I mean it, Küken. I’m not mad at you.” 

Roland shyly peaked up at her, his hands stilling at his sides. “You promise?” 

“Pinky promise.” She held her smallest finger up for his to take, and gave him the most convincing look she could muster. He linked his pinky with hers, and Y/n shook it slightly with finality. 

Roland checked the doorway for the umpteenth time, still finding no sign of their mom he leaned back in. “Can I tell you a secret then? That will stay just between us?” 

“Of course. Whatever you want to tell me. You know I love a good secret that Mom and Dad can’t know.” Y/n leant in closer as well, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously. “When you get a bit older I can tell you hundreds of my own.”

Roland let out a small giggle, and grabbed for Y/n’s pinky again. “I mean it. They can’t ever know.” 

“I get it, stop teasing and spill before mom comes back.” She feathered her fingers against his ribs, effectively pulling bubbles of laughter from his throat at the tickling onslaught. 

“Okay-Okay! Stop!” Y/n removed her hands, and let him have a few seconds to catch his breath. Roland turned to completely face her, pulling his legs towards his chest to sit crisscrossed on the mattress.

“I don’t want to own the hotel. I never wanted to. But mom says I don’t have a choice.” 

Y/n’s stomach did flips in her abdomen, and she was glad she hadn’t eaten anything yet for it to find and evict. 

“Did she say why?” Y/n’s voice had an edge to it even though she tried to dampen it. 

“She just said that it’s tradition. That I was the only one who could do it.” He rolled his eyes, oblivious to how much this confession affected Y/n. “But what I want is to be a firefighter or a dog trainer.” 

“Why even hire movers if I have to take things to the car myself?” Their mother scampered back into the room, flustered from whatever trek she had taken. “Is everything alright?” Her back straightened at the sight of them huddled together. 

“Just peachy. I was telling him about how great he’ll do up in New York. He just got a little nervous, that's all.” Y/n gave her a tight lipped smile, brushing her hands off on her pants and pulling herself to her feet. 

“O-okay.” Mariah stepped out of Y/n’s way, letting her pass back out into the hall without stopping her. 

“If you need help let me know. But I’m headed out for the day.” Y/n saluted the two of them and took off down the hall in search of her body guard for this morning. She found Namjoon propped against the all a few doors down to give her and Roland some privacy–and despite her promise to her brother to keep what he had disclosed between them–she couldn’t wait to seethe about what she had just been told to Namjoon the moment they were alone. 

“How is he-” 

“Follow me.” 

Namjoon paled, and he fell into step with her rapid footfalls. “Got it.” 

Her face must have betrayed how livid she was again. Old wounds were being ruthlessly sliced open, and her mom’s hands were the ones holding the blade. Y/n dodged a man swinging a ladder over his head to swoop down to kick her shoes on, Namjoon barely making it underneath the metal in time to do the same. 

Y/n led the way down the stairs, barreling straight down the path toward the hotel. Y/n forced deep breaths into her lungs all the way through the courtyard and into the upper lobby as a means to hold in what she wanted so desperately to word vomit all over Namjoon behind her. She skidded to a halt at the front desk, but Jin was nowhere to be found-a different employee taking his place. Before Y/n’s thoughts could take a dark turn, she reminded herself that Jin had shared he didn’t always work on Wednesdays and settled herself on that, not having the mental capacity to start theorizing about whatever her mother's schemes had to do with them. Y/n tapped on the bell, and the well-kept woman greeted her with a dazzling smile. 

“How can I help you today?” 

“Would you mind checking the tour schedule for me? I work here, and I’m trying to see if my friend is on the schedule today. We are supposed to meet up for lunch, but he never told me what time.” Y/n returned her smile, and kept her voice inconspicuous. 

“Oh–sure! Let me check here…Who are you looking for?” 

“Jimin Park.” 

The woman’s delicate hands lifted from the keyboard, not even bothering to look any further. “I’m afraid he’s not on the schedule today. He called out this morning.” 

“Huh, darn. I’ll see if I can find him around then.” Y/n skipped backwards towards the propped open front doors. “Thank you!” 

Y/n sped down the hotel’s front steps, her feet kicking up dust when they met the gravel driveway. Much to Namjoon’s displeasure, she kept up with this pace down the entirety of the long driveway. She had an inkling at where she could find Jimin: both from something he had said the day he had lent her a hand with her shelves; and from a small nibbling feeling in her gut that whispered the location up at her. 

The Historical Society. 

It was a ten-minute walk on foot to get there. Once at the end of the driveway, they had made a left-hand turn to follow the road roughly a quarter mile down to the clearing in the woods that stood as the residential parking area. Y/n glanced both ways up and down the winding road, and led their march across asphalt towards a stubby, yet ornately painted wooden sign signaling that they had made it to their destination. Trekking through the small parking lot that was shrouded with trees and shrubs, she approached the covered entrance to the Historical building. The outside was made of cream colored stone, with the main body of the building rising into a twisted dome. Y/n ducked under the velvet divider with a ‘no trespassing’ jangling from the chain when she jostled it. Her and Namjoon stood huddled under the stoop while Y/n rapped her knuckles against the door. She huffed out one more big breath to recenter her energy away from negativity–not wanting to seem irate as to off put Jimin when he opened the door. But There was no movement, and Y/n tapped her foot with pursed lips debating on whether to knock again. She caught sight of the small round doorbell button, and pressed it down with two fingers. 

“Maybe he’s not here Y/n. We can go wait for him back at the house.” Namjoon tried to reason with a hand on her elbow when she pressed the button two more times. 

“No.” Y/n shook her head resolutely. “He’s in here, I can feel it.” 

Y/n missed the quizzical look he shot her, because her attention was stolen by the sound of the lock clambering on the other side of the door. The door heaved open to reveal a slightly off put Jimin–his dirty blond hair disheveled and his white button down crumpled in a few spots. 

“Y/n?” 

The woman in question sighed in relief. “Sorry to bother you Jimin, but I have a few questions that I was hoping you could help me find the answers to.” 

“I–” Jimin remained apprehensive, even if his eyes lit up when they flickered between her and Namjoon. “Of course. Come on in.” 

“Namjoon, will you be joining or will you be headed back to the greenhouse?” She spun to the towering man next her to find him already looking back up the road towards the house. 

Namjoon shuffled from foot to foot, an uneasy look painting his features. “I do really need to get to work for the day–will you be alright?” 

“Yup. I’ll let you know when I’m finished up here. Hopefully I’ll still have time today to help you inspect how the perennials are regrowing.” Y/n was already treading through the door that Jimin held open for her, stopping to give Namjoon a small wave with her hand still in her sweater pocket. 

Namjoon grinned sweetly at her. “I’ll hold you to that.” Jimin had already headed back into the entry room, far enough for Namjoon to feel safe whispering to her. “You better promise to text one of us to come get you if he doesn’t walk you back. And I want updates on whatever has got you in such a tizzy today.” 

“Promise.” Without thinking, Y/n tipped herself forward to plant a quick peck on Namjoon’s cheek and traipsed through after Jimin without so much as a second glance at the bumbling mess she had left him in. “Thank you for the escort. See ya later, Joon!” 

Y/n’s late night endeavors must really be pushing her into a manic episode, because she felt almost no shame in what she had done. If anything, she had an extra pep in her step as she followed Jimin past the empty tour line and into the main hall. He pushed on the golden handle, gesturing with a hand for her to enter first. 

_________________________________________

The vaulted ceiling let the main hall be broken up into two separate floors connected by golden winding staircases with matching banisters. Lining the rounded walls were artifacts encased behind protective glass, labeled golden plaques with titles and dates of each item creating divots in the surface.  The vast first floor was dedicated to the Wörner’s, a rotating exhibit that the members of the historical department selected each year. Y/n could see that with this year being a major anniversary, they had gone the obvious route of displaying them through the generations. Her eyes caught the array of pressed and displayed military uniforms, and splayed out historical documents with rapt interest. The second floor was still dedicated to the other families involved with the hotel with each having their own designated section: The Kim’s, the Jeon’s, the Jung’s and the Min’s. Y/n decided it would do her good to ask Jimin for a tour of the current exhibits when he was feeling a bit better–she’d have to settle on just her questions for the time being. 

“We can talk in my office.” Jimin came up beside her, his hands clasped behind his back and his voice light. 

He led the way, cutting through the line of boxed displays and down another grand hallway, the same black and white tiled flooring spreading outwards beneath their feet. Y/n admired the artwork displayed along the column lined walls, each piece collected from local artists and swapped at the beginning of the month. It looked like this month's theme was nature Y/n noted, her eyes examining an impressionist style piece depicting a scene from the state forest up the road. 

“They are for sale, you know.” His placid tone called from down the hall, a patient smile shining her way at where she had unknowingly stopped to admire another smaller painting of a flowery field. Y/n blushed, and scurried after him. She didn’t want to keep him waiting longer than he needed to. She brushed against him with her shoulder when she squeezed through the threshold, the crackling sound of Bach welcoming her with open arms.

 It looked mostly well kept, with some papers strewn about and a stack of books piled neatly at the end of a bulky rectangular wooden table. Its grain was handmade, a checker pattern with plaques of solid color separating the table into three distinguished segments. His monstrous bookshelves had each section labeled in a straightforward organizational system, focusing on topic or genre. In front of the shelves were two red cushioned armchairs, and a matching love seat. Y/n spied a few gray boxes stacked on an empty chair, their white tacked on label reading ‘photos and albums’. 

“You can take a seat wherever you’d like.” Jimin shut his door after them, floating over to one of the empty wooden seats at the table and pulling it out for her as an offer. 

Y/n thanked him, and sank into her seat without hesitation. Which he just responded with a pleased hum, taking two wide steps over to drop into the one across from her. Y/n felt her nose twitch, catching a whiff of something familiar that she couldn’t place.

“So what can I help you with today?” He beamed across the table at her, prodding her with a gentle quirk of his brows. Y/n’s brushed aside her concerns with whatever wax melt he had probably chosen, and focused on her task at hand. 

“I was actually hoping that you’d help me with some family history questions.” Y/n patted at her pockets with her hands, feeling for the papers and unsheathing them from her pockets. 

Jimin seemed caught off guard, and leaned forward onto his elbows to get a better look at what she was spreading out onto the table.

“Don’t judge me for how they look–it was just me, a spiral notebook and some scotch tape last night.” Y/n fidgeted with one of the corners with an abashed laugh. 

Jimin stood to get a better look, one knee propped on the chair below him and both hands supporting his weight as he slanted forward. His eyes took in her sloppy writing and wonky circles, and circled back to meet hers. 

“What kind of questions?” 

“Well…” Y/n cleared her throat, the realization that she can’t just tell him what had happened becoming glaringly apparent to her in that moment. “I want to make a more comprehensive family tree. The last one I had made was well over a decade ago and was just names and pictures. My goal is to make one with more specifics.” 

Jimin tapped his fingers on the table's edge, his tongue coming out to poke at his lower lip. “What are these ‘X’s for?” Y/n followed the direction of his pointed finger, and she scrambled for a reasonable response. 

“Oh–Those are some of the people I don’t remember as much about.” Y/n covered the lie with a chuckle, and scratched the back of her head. 

“Uh huh.” Jimin’s eyes glinted with hubris, but he didn’t call her out on her obvious lie. Y/n flushed once more, realizing that the person he had pointed at was her own sister. He fell back into his chair with a sigh, his pointer finger and thumb rubbing at his chin pensively. 

“You want to make one?” He regarded her with a few drops of skepticism, his fingers coming to a slow stop against his face. 

“Yes.” she gestured to the shotty one in front of her with a smirk. “One that doesn’t look like it was made by a toddler.” 

Jimin chortled at her comment, and rose from his chair and towards the exit to his office. “I’ll do you one better–give me one moment please.” 

He glided back out into the hall, leaving her alone in his office with just the soft sound of the record he had on his antique victrola. She could hear the sound of his shoes ringing against the tile getting further and further away and with each echoing step her heart sank: she wasn’t supposed to be alone. Y/n shoved her hand into her back pocket where her “lightsaber” was tucked, and let herself hold it at the ready in her hands to turn on at any sign of danger. But none came.

Y/n held her breath until the sound of Jimin’s steps returning down the hall let her expel it from her chest, but she did not yet let go of the flashlight until she saw his sandy head pop through the door once more. When he turned back around to face her, he had a lengthy black leather tube almost half his height. He rounded the table and propped it up against the side closest to her. 

“This is my personal copy of the Wörner family tree that I’ve been working on. I can order a second one for you to keep if you'd like.” Jimin unlatched the top, and lifted a gargantuan scroll of paper that was about as thick around as her head with how hard it was fighting to unravel the moment it was removed from its confines. 

Jimin laid the scroll horizontally on the table and pushed on the edge with his palm. The paper rolled away from his reach, spanning almost as good as the entire table and revealing its contents for both of them to see. It was without a doubt, the most concise family tree she had seen of her family to date. Each member’s birthdate, death date, and photo was displayed proudly along their branches, and small QR codes printed next to each name. 

“If you scan the QR code next to their name, it brings you to a website portal I’ve been putting together myself with any detailed information or photos I’ve been able to procure and assign to them.” Jimin pulled his phone from his pocket, scanning the square closest to him. “It’s still a work in progress.” 

Y/n tried to hold in a gag as Inga’s face appeared on his phone screen, reminding her all too well of the little girl she had seen last night. At least this version of Inga still had her teeth and eyeballs attached to her. He passed the phone into her hands, and let her scroll through the information he had already listed. 

Inga Wörner was born (along with her twin sister Heidi) to parents Ernst and Philomena Wörner in the fall of 1895. According to written accounts, she enjoyed hosting tea parties with her sister, drawing, and spending time outdoors–with emphasis on spending the most time at the lake or along the trails with her sister. Unfortunately, she caught an unspecified respiratory infection that led to both her own, and eventually her twin’s untimely death in spring of 1903. 

The grainy photo of a small girl–probably taken not long before her illness had consumed her with how similar she looked to how Y/n recognized her–filled Y/n with an unexpected wave of sympathy. She clicked on the ‘show me more’ option that routed her two a few scanned children’s drawings: a lopsided drawing of a calico cat, and the front of the estate that was clearly done by a child’s hand with her name drawn in big loopy letters along the bottom. Y/n had to skip over the sketched out image of the lake, unable to bring herself to look at it for too long without her skin crawling.

 She had only been a child when she had died–close to her sister’s age even. Y/n thought back to how her sister had shown up in her dream as a completely different person to who she had once been, and felt guilty for blaming the twins for their predicament: they were as much of a victim to whatever was happening as much as her sister had been. What a shame their legacy is being tarnished by something vile. By something out of their control. 

Y/n backed out of her file, and back to the camera button. She looked to Jimin for approval, and he gestured with his hand and an inviting smile for her to continue. 

“Be my guest.” 

Y/n handed him back his phone, and scrambled for her own–so she would be able to take screenshots of anything she had found interesting. Y/n lost herself in the map, finding herself unable to pull herself away from the photos or the information that was present, feeling drawn to take a peek into Heidi’s as well. 

Heidi Wörner was born to Ernst and Philomena in the late fall of 1895, the technical eldest of the set of twins (as she makes sure to point out in her journal entries whenever the topic is discussed). Heidi wrote extensively about things she enjoyed in a collection of personal journals and diaries. Some of the most notable things she recorded were her love of horseback riding, the family cat Gus (Asparagus), and Neapolitan ice cream. Heidi could be noted as an avid writer, documenting the day-to-day life of her and her family. Her meticulous testimony gives us a unique point of view of the adults in her life.

Y/n flipped through the plethora of photos of faded journal entries, the handwriting improving with each swipe. She shook out the mixed bag of feelings within her chest, and moved onto the next person on the page. Jimin settled himself on one of the red armchairs, crossing one of his legs and propping a book open on his elevated knee. Y/n worked in silence, taking photos or writing notes on her own makeshift document. Jimin lost in his book and tapping his fingers rhythmically against the hardcover, and the record playing through it’s next orchestra piece. 

There were a few people Jimin seemed to have not filled in yet, and each time an empty square popped up she would move to the next. Y/n made sure she was taking screenshots of the ones that did have short or cut off descriptions. The blank spaces left her more intrigued than those whose sections were full. She began to find similarities to the ones left blank as time went on: the common denominator that they belonged almost exclusively to the women in the family. This Y/n had to remind herself of, could most likely be attributed to the time they had lived in not being well known for their kindness towards women historically. Even if it didn’t surprise her, it still left her feeling the void where their stories should also be. When she hovered her phone over Adelaide, she was taken aback: for her section was also blank. There should surely be something about her somewhere–she had a restaurant named after her!. Maybe Jimin just hadn’t gotten to that side of the family tree yet, she reasoned with herself. 

Jimin felt her moment of pause, looking over her shoulder at where her phone lingered over the photo of Adelaide. 

“I haven’t finished everything yet. There’s been…” Jimin trailed off, his fingers fiddling with the cuff of one of his sleeves as he stood from his seat. “A lot of setbacks.” He avoided meeting her eyes, keeping his tone airy even if tension tried to ease its way through.

“Oh. Like technical issues or lack of substantial material?” Y/n laid her phone on the table next to Adelaide’s photo and waited patiently for his response. 

“Trust me–there is no lack of material about any of these people. There’s hoards of it in the basement archives,” Jimin sassily flicked a stray lock of hair from his forehead, “It’s more so along the lines of I have to get things I wish to share approved by higher ups and some of that information is intentionally kept from prying eyes; if you can understand what I’m implying.” 

Y/n chewed at her lip, giving him a subtle nod. “Anything interesting that you can share?”   

“Hmmm.” Jimin ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth, contemplating her question. “Not at the moment. But if I catch wind of anything that I think might interest you, I will be sure to reach out.” 

The record on his player clipped to a sudden stop with an ear splitting scratch, as if someone had taken their finger and pushed the needle to grate across the record. Y/n swiveled at the sudden interruption, but Jimin remained motionless with the corners of his lips twitching in cloaked displeasure. There was a muffled ‘tink’, and Y/n watched the arm land against the velvet lining on the box on its own accord. Nearly a full ten inches from where it had been tracking across the pressed record moments before. 

“Sorry about that–It’s so old–sometimes it just forgets how to act.”  Jimin’s voice was cloying, cutting through the tension the interruption had left hanging in the air. 

His shoes sounded sharp on the tiled floors careening straight for the large box and picking up the arm of the player. “If it keeps choosing to slip up, I will just have to turn it off and switch to a more modern approach.” He hovered the needle over the beginning of the vinyl, and dropped it into the grooves to restart it from the beginning. The music resounded through the space once more as if nothing had happened. 

“Much better.” Jimin purred, and floated back to her side. He placed his hands onto the edges of the massive sheet and tugged it towards him. The paper curled on command, rolling itself back up into a coiled cylinder for him to grasp in his hands. “I’m sure this must be boring you.” He gave her a syrupy smile–one that was borderline too sweet–and his voice lilted up an octave. “How about a tour of the exhibits? Or I can offer you something to read until someone comes to get you.”

Y/n didn’t try to fight it–she knew that he was too nice for his own good to tell her outright that he was upset by something–and she didn’t want to abuse that by forcing him further into whatever was bothering him. Y/n speculated that it had something to do with the record player most certainly not just being old.  

“A tour would be nice.” Y/n yielded to his intense smile he tossed her over the lid of the leather tube.

“Then you’re in luck, because that is my specialty~” He clapped his hands, his expression dwindling into something more playful. Jimin placed a hand on the small of her back, and herded her out of the office and into the hall. He tucked one hand into the pocket of his black slacks, and grasped one of hers in the other with a wink. 

Jimin set the pace, keeping Y/n’s normally rushed steps timed with the strings serenading them from the open door they had just left. They arrived at the ginormous circular room once more, and he steered them both towards the entrance to start them on the mapped out path that sprawled counter clockwise from the door and up to the second floor.

“We have it organized in timeline order for the most part: Over here being mostly about Matthäus and his sons.” Jimin gestured with his nose to a collage of black and white photographs of Matthäus, some of him as a child in Germany splattered between older photos of him in front of the hotel, and posing at the construction site with his family. 

They strolled forwards, a photo of his eldest son Friedrich standing next to Matthäus in a much less modernized version of the lobby. A newspaper clipping titled “WÖRNER SON TAKES OVER HOTEL DEEDS”. Jimin let her soak up the images on her own, only choosing to offer input where he saw fit. They traveled down from Friedrich’s section to his eldest son, Ernst.

 Y/n paused to take in the photo of him at the desk in the study, his pen scratching along a long piece of parchment with his signature pooling out from the ink. His brother stood next to him, in the process of clapping his brother on the back in revelry. But it wasn’t either of them she was drawn to. It wasn’t the proud faces of his father or the wrinkled face of Matthäus beaming towards his grandson. It was the blank and brooding stare of Adelaide Wörner from where she stood in the back corner. 

Adelaide’s hair was pulled up and out of her face, a few tight unruly curls falling onto her cheeks and across her forehead. They had the same shaped nose, Y/n observed with an upwards quirk of her mouth. She stood almost entirely concealed by both brother’s shoulders, but Y/n could feel the way her eyes bore into the parchment Ernst was hunched over. Y/n could feel her emotions–read her thoughts even. It took one scorned woman to know one.

Jimin pulled her forward, passed the family photos of Ernst and his older children and grandchildren playing in the first rendition of the concrete outdoor pool. Heidi and Inga were nowhere to be seen, having never got the chance to live long enough to see it. 

“Inga would have loved the pool.” Y/n couldn’t help but think of the young girl, her breath fogging up the glass as she leant up to get a better view of the photo. “If she loved swimming in the lake I can only imagine what she would’ve done with the pool.” 

Jimin shifted where he stood, but did not comment. Pulling her even further forward to Leon’s generation. One photo in particular struck her more than the rest. It captured Leon lounging on the front steps of the estate, his dress pants rolled up to his knees where his lower legs should be. Where they were was made apparent as she took in the rest of the photo. His two sons–Barret and Duane–each wielded a prosthetic as a makeshift sword with the shoes pointed at each other to commence their duel. On either side were a gaggle of boys in a line as if imitating a battle: Y/n recognized one of them to be Hoseok’s great grandfather Young-ho (they all had the same shaped smile that made them easy to recognize in any family photo), a stick poised in his hand to strike at the line of boys across from them, and pointed directly at one in particular across the line who looked uncannily like Jin.  Leon’s face was split in half with a grin at the spectacle, and their mother Magdelena sat huddled with a group of women, each with a baby in her arms and casting sideways glances at the boys. 

Y/n snorted, her finger coming up to point through the glass at Young-ho’s taunting sneer. “You could tell me that was Hoseok and Jin on the front lawn from fifteen years ago and I’d believe you.” 

Jimin leaned forward, and a full bellied laugh erupted from his soft lips. “Oh trust me, there’s more where that came from, it must be in their blood to get on each other's nerves. I’ll have to take you down to the archives to show you some of my favorites–these grounds have their fair share of guts and glory–but for each serious photo there were probably a dozen photos of each generation of children getting up to no good.” Jimin toed forward, leading her away from the photo to the next section with a teasing bite of his lower lip. “And you can bet that it always stemmed back to a Jung and a Wörner.” 

Y/n couldn’t contain her own shit eating grin, a hand coming up to clutch at imaginary pearls. “What? No. I  would have never guessed!.” 

Jimin rolled his eyes, and squeezed her hand between his own as his response. He piloted them into a sharp right hand turn, down another hallway that emitted a bright white light instead of completing the other half of the circle. This hallway was identical to the one leading to his office in build–but instead of paintings–this hallway was lined with rows of pristinely pressed military uniforms. 

“The families here have a lot of footholds in key moments in history.” Jimin started, pulling her closer to his side with their intertwined hands.  “You can trace their involvement in pivotal movements. The most obvious one being the civil war, starting with Matthäus, then trickling downwards.” They took slow steps past a well preserved Union Soldier Uniform, his musket and boots propped next to it. 

“These next two uniforms belonged to Ernst and Leon from their time serving in World War I. But note the difference in size.” Jimin pulled her to a stop, taking his pocketed hand out to gesture between the two outfits in front of them. 

Y/n did as directed, her eyes sweeping from one to the other. The one on the left hand side was of the normal size, decorated and proud with a nicked helmet dangling from the neck of the mannequin. But the other towards the right, Leon’s: was much shorter. Only just brushing on five feet–it couldn’t be any taller than her brother–with the lower legs torn and folded over themselves. 

“It’s so small…” Y/n’s finger’s traced buttons through the glass. 

“That’s because Leon served when he was barely twelve. A lot of young boys lied about their age to get into the world wars, but world war I had some notably young participants. It must be a Wörner thing to dive head first into trouble: because his sons did the same thing come the 1940’s.” Jimin barely gave Y/n time to gape at the uniform of the small boy, sliding forward to the next two uniforms. “Barrett and Duane both lied about their age to enlist. Though they were much closer to the allowed age then their father had been, it still stirred quite the uproar amongst the family when both potential heirs shipped themselves off to battle without telling anyone.” 

“Sounds like Bear.” Y/n snorted. 

Barret–or Bear/Bär–was one of her great great uncles she had actually been able to have her own experiences with. He was the one to start their tradition of animal nicknames, for his name is derived from the German name Baraold. This translates roughly to “brave as a bear” or “bear strength”. And what a fitting name for him it had been. She had only seen him a few times around the holidays during his last few years, but he was without fail a force to be reckoned with each time. Her most prominent memories of him consisted of his insistence to do things that his doctors definitely didn’t want him too: like eat copious amounts of twinkies and spam, and swipe alcoholic beverages from vacant seats as he rolled by with his walker. He had always been one to bend and play with rules, something she had to agree with Jimin must be a Wörner thing. 

They continued past the next two average sized suits, passing a  handful of other uniforms until they reached the end of the hall. “Then you have the Korean war, Vietnam…one of them was always doing something.” Jimin tutted, guiding her to a door at the end of the hall. “However, the parts of history I find the most interesting don’t always have to do with the big wars America loves to dwell on. I prefer learning about the people themselves, and what made them make the choices they did.” 

He unlocked the door with a badge from his pocket, and dragged Y/n in after him. This room was much darker, and almost completely void of anything on its walls. Jimin let out a dry and tired chuckle, and watched as Y/n turned to take in the empty space.

“It’s empty?” Y/n breathed out, regarding Jimin with a tilt of her head. 

“Unfortunately. It’s almost May when we really start to pick up steam, and this exhibit is empty.” Jimin left the door only barely cracked behind them, leaving the only light to be from within the empty glass cases and the distant echoes of Bach trailing after them. “I did have stuff in here–an entire exhibit planned. But your-” Jimin cut himself off, forcing a disheartened smile on his face. “-but I wasn’t able to get it approved. The problem is, I can’t seem to find anything else worth filling it with.” 

Jimin stepped impossibly closer to her, resting his chin on her shoulder from behind while she looked at the only two articles pinned to one of the walls. A photo taken of Ernst along with his two surviving daughters, and Adelaide in a crouch, sharing a hand written sign with a young Leon in a wheelchair. All of them taking to the streets of New York during the March for Women’s Suffrage dated spring of 1919. 

The article next to it, described Ernst and Friedrich filing a lawsuit against an ex contractor on the basis of discrimination against an active employee: a picture of Il-sung Kim- the first Kim hired on the property as a financial adviser-posing with both men on the front steps of a courthouse. A highlighted excerpt beneath the photo a quote from Ernst taken on those very front steps: 

“My father always said that many of the best things to come from The United States of America were from the people that came across its borders. For if my grandfather had been treated with any similarities to that which you choose to treat others that strike at your feeble minded sense of comfort, our hotel would have never been given the chance to exist. He came from overseas, fought for your freedoms with his own hands, and made it his mission to keep doing so for everyone and anyone who comes after. And that is our job as Wörners; lest you never forget that when you walk through our doors. You spew hatred in the name of our Lord, yet you forget where you come from yourself: most of us took the same path as this fine gentleman next to me. If you have a problem with our philosophy and who we choose to stand for, you may take it up with God–for he will be the one you see before your descent into hell for using his name in vain as a means to punish other good men on the basis of sameness.”

Y/n was still, frozen by the two images and marks they made within her. Never had these ever been shown to her, nor their stories shared across the dinner table with the same emphasis that they had been done with the tales of war heroes. Y/n realized as she looked at those two photos–that perhaps she didn’t even know them at all. That perhaps things had been shoved under the rug and avoided, for what reason she couldn’t guess. Maybe it was the fire their passions lit in her belly that made the knowledge dangerous: because if anything this would make her more insufferable to her mother.

Jimin shifted behind her, his next puff of air fanning across her exposed neck from where his chin rested on her shoulder. 

“Y/n–there’s so much about your family they choose not to tell. There’s true glory, and true darkness. But they avoid both for the sake of not creating enemies. But In my personal opinion: if doing the right thing makes one an enemy, then they were never a friend in the first place.” Jimin took small steps back, and Y/n felt a rush of cold air replace the warmth that his closeness had brought. When she turned back to find where he had gone, she could barely make out his outline in the dark room. His eyes reflected the light from the display case back at her from his spot by the door, and he held it open for her with a tight-lipped smile. 

Y/n was breathless, unable to piece together whatever riddle he was giving her this time. “What does that mean, Jimin?” 

He shrugged, holding a hand up in submission. “It’s just something I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about. With everything going on around the hotel and all.” 

Y/n followed, as if in a trance. The information overload left her hazy–something he seemed to have a knack for doing lately when he got lost in these cryptic moods. Before she could make it through the door, he stopped her with a feverish hand on her forearm. 

“Whatever you decide to add to your own family tree, I would take extra care to note where you find any…” Jimin’s eyes glanced down the hall with trepidation “...gaps. Sometimes empty spaces can say a lot about what the others around them expected from them. And always keep in mind who has been in charge of writing the story that they had been excluded from.”  

Jimin released his hold on her, letting her shuffle through the opening first. Y/n took a moment to find herself again from the strange aura that had taken over her while Jimin bolted the door behind them closed. She took in a few of the trees swaying outside of her windows and took a deep breath in time with their dancing, grounding herself back in the present from whatever limbo state she had been pulled into within the empty exhibit. When he turned back to face her again once, his face had done a complete one-eighty: His eyes were scrunched into crescents from where his friendly smile pushed his cheeks up into them, and he grabbed at her hand once more. 

“I think it would be lovely if you joined me for a treat at the cafe. I didn’t get to eat breakfast this morning with all of the household commotion, and I think my stomach might eat itself if I don’t get something in it.” Jimin’s voice took on a slight whine, and he hauled her past the uniforms and towards the building's exit. 

Weaving through the displays in the main room, Y/n registered that the record player had stopped again from within his office. The space in sound no longer taken up by music was filled with their echoing footfalls. Her eyes honed in on the image of Adelaide as they passed, and the fire in her burned brighter–whatever her and her friends were uncovering wasn’t just for Y/n’s own personal gain anymore–no. This went further back then Y/n. It had something to do with all of the blank sections on that family tree that someone had decided wasn’t worth filling. The empty exhibit. Inga and Heidi. Adelaide. Matilda. Every inch of Y/n’s skin felt like it was on fire with the embers of rage smoldering within her, and she had to stop herself from crushing Jimin’s hand to cope with how hot it burned.

Y/n wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, or if it was just the residual weird energy from the empty exhibit: but she could’ve sworn she counted three sets of shoes instead of two reflecting off of the glass they whizzed by. Her ears must’ve been playing tricks on her too. Because while waiting for Jimin to set up the locks on the front door, there was certainly another indented set of large boot prints that crunched at a low decibel behind them up the dirt path back up to the estate. She gripped the flashlight tightly from her sweater pocket, but whoever it was decided to stay otherwise unseen. 

And this she decided fell in their favor. For if they crossed her now, she would find a way to end them on the spot with her light if she could. 

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Previous chapter

Next Chapter

[5kby5may]

5K by 5 May 2025 Masterlist

5K by 5 May: the fic event with a MAXIMUM word count. The rules are simple: write a Supernatural fic between 1,500 and 5,000 words, and post it to AO3 on the 5th of May. No content restrictions, no required theme, no claims!

The 2025 round has concluded with a lovely batch of fic! This year the mods purposely went light on the advertising--it seemed like fandom was pretty overbooked--and to get this many responses despite that is so heartening. Please browse the masterlist below and give these authors some love!

You can also browse these fic in the AO3 collection: 5K by 5 May 2025

And they were roommates

Author: saudade Word Count: 2000 Major Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: General Audiences Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, mentioned Charlie Bradbury/Stevie, implied past Crowley/Bobby Singer, implied Bobby Singer/Rufus Turner

Tags: Alternate Universe, 5+1 Things, Vine References, Crack Treated Seriously, Outsider Perspectives

Summary

The residents of Kim Manor watch as two of their own, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak, evolve from hesitant neighbors to enamored roommates.

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Couple’s Massage

Author: @crowleysmistress Word Count: 3840 Major Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Rating: Mature Pairing: Sam Winchester/Amelia, Sam & Lucifer, Sam/Michael

Tags: Sam remembers Lucifer’s Cage, Wing Kink, Past Torture, Angel Wing Grooming, Massage

Summary

Memories of the Cage surface when Sam and Amelia go for a couples massage. The experience is too similar of when he had to provide wing grooming for the Archangels. Sam struggles to regain his footing in reality?

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Fear Of Sleep

Author: @junesirius Word Count: 4228 Major Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: General Audiences Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Caring Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester uses Actual Words, Fluff

Summary

Sleeping has always been a human thing. Angels don’t need to sleep, but they can, if they want. Dean knows that, so does Cas.

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Show Yourself (To Me)

Author: gay_dinosaur_1701 Word Count: 2501 Major Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Explicit Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Canon Universe, Getting Together, First Time, Blow Jobs

Summary

Dean is alone in the bunker, cleaning and dancing to the music. Wrapped up in what he’s doing, he doesn’t notice at first when Cas comes back and sees him, scantily clothed and shaking his body to the beat of the music. Cas tries to hide how it affects him, but Dean isn’t about to just let him leave…

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Exit Music: A Dean Man’s Lullaby

Author: @hiighlighterr Word Count: 5000 Major Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: General Audiences Pairing: Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester

Tags: Childhood Trauma, POV Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Episode: s02e20 What Is and What Should Never Be (Supernatural)

Summary

The allure in a Djinn, the thing that makes them so lethal, is that they take away the hurt. Oh, they let you feel it first, don’t mistake that— they’ll let you stew in that confusion, they’ll let you fight it at first, let you wander around and shout and scream like it’ll break the spell they’ve got you trapped under. —Dean’s past wielded by a Djinn.

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Hannah and Her Hellhounds

Author: Raven_Fuchs Word Count: 3892 Major Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Crowley/Hannah; background Destiel

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Hellhounds, Uprising in Hell, Crowley is married to an angel, Hannah is still part of the Host

Summary

After the King of Hell, Crowley, wed the angel Hannah, not everyone in Hell was pleased. In fact some saw it as a sign of weakness. Crowley and Hannah approach the running of Hell the same way they do their marriage - as equals. While Crowley confronts the uprising, Hannah shores up the defenses of the compound and watches over the Hellhounds. Juliet, Crowley’s beloved Hellhound, presents Hannah with a powerful gift that also is symbolic of the unique bond between angel and demon.

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Forgotten

Author: Tickette Word Count: 1574 Major Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Castiel/Dean

Tags: AU - No Monsters; alpha!Dean;omega!Cas; loneliness; pregnant Cas; college student!Dean

Summary

High School sweethearts find out they are expecting. After insisting Dean not lose his scholarship, Cas is abandoned by his family. Dean promises to switch to a local college so he can be closer and support his omega. Pregnant Cas struggles to make ends meet.

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Desert Neon

Author: @mbqnoyolo Word Count: 1594 Major Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Mature Pairing: Lee Webb/Dean Winchester

Tags: Stanford era, young dean, desert, chupacabra, john as a dad

Summary

At 19, John finally sets Dean free in the desert…with a proven hunter as a chaperone. Lee Webb may only be three years older than him, but he’s already cut his teeth in the world of hunters and, miraculously, earned the respect of John Winchester. Without Sam, Dean has been stuck in the lulls of loneliness, but a couple nights in the desert with Lee will forever change what he thought about himself and settle him on a path for the rest of his life.

Link to Fic | Link to Promo

Once again linking the AO3 collection for easy access: 5K by 5 May 2025

Don't forget to leave kudos and comments!

[atsucry]

Beyond the Thorn Vines

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐈𝐈

Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

warnings: Incredibly boring. Actually this chap is jst like PURELY info dump so like if ch. 4 is out you can like siim over this and move on. COUGH COUGH this was made on a deadline.

content warning: none

3:12 pm, Royal Sword Academy. Dorm room

"Could you stop it with that?!" You reprimanded your friend, balling your fist and slamming it down on the bed by the side of your lap. As you read, Che'nya has been swishing his tail back and forth nonstop over the book and flipping the pages.

He laid floating above your canopy bed, enjoying the elevation over ground. And when he bent backwards to face you; it was an uncanny sight.

"You've been analysing that for a while now, don't tell me you have trouble with comprehending the material!" The cat snickered.

"Ya know…you could ask for my help," he suggested. "If you want!"

You slouched back into your pillow, holding the book open over your stomach. "Oh please, you'd word it as more complicated than it already is." You hadn’t noticed, but your eyebrow started slightly twitching.

Taking a double look at the page, you found that you still hadn't understood it, not one bit! It had messed with your head all morning, that or it was just Che'nya's interruptions.

The feline flipped over on his stomach and looked at you with owlish eyes, resting his head in folded arms. "Hm, Tomorrow's Magi-shift against NRC. You comin' to watch or are ya just gonna watch from the sidelines?"

"Ugh," you let your head drop to the side. "but the headaches…" You grumbled in displeasure. It was one of those headaches that would feel like knives that stabbed into your cranium. An awful one Indeed. You swear that one of these days you would pass out from the severity, though, hopefully not sooner or later.

"I'll get ya headphones if the whole stadium is too loud—!"

"It's not the noise!" You shouted in a whisper. Somehow you could never watch past anything near the championship round, so you never really saw who the winners were. Though you were certain that it was always RSA. NRC hasn't won against you all for 99 years.

Your friend grinned from ear to ear, a bemused noise left him and nodded his head from side to side akin to a bobble-head figure. "By-the-bye," he interrupted. "If you want to get rid of that 'awful headache' as you say…" Che'nya had always been the type of friend who you could never anticipate what action they might pull off next. But you could always tell If it leaned on more mischief or genuine goodwill.

"You should try seeking someone."

What he said was so stupidly blatant that it might've been a bigger, mind crushing headache than the ones you got occasionally.

"I've already tried that! I mean—of course I'd go to a doctor for migraines that won't go away. Who wouldn't—"

"That's not what I was referring to, silly," He chuckled, pressing his fingertips against his lips to…attempt to conceal the mockery. "But take it as ya will."

You raised your brow, He looked at you knowingly. His intentions weren't quite clear to you, but you could only hope for it to be rational, but what were you kidding?

"...Are you withholding information from me? Or what?"

"Aha! no no! not at all! I'm only suggesting, as any good friend does," He said with a dismissive hand wave, ascending down slowly at the foot of your bed to lay down, stretching his arms before flipping to face you.

"...You sure do love messing with me, don't you?" Your friend only responded in an amused shrug. "Well, I'll be off. Knowing you, this conversation won't go ANYWHERE till you turn over every rock. Buh-bye!" Che'nya's laugh resonated throughout him, trembling. He disappeared starting from his tail, his body followed. His legs were next and then his head—leaving behind a grin before it poofed away too. He frequently crashed at the Heartslabyul dorm to meet up with his childhood friends, his ability to turn invisible helped him stay low.

"Oh..that cat…" You wondered if Che'nya's teasing had a grain of truth to it—was there something more to what you were seeking, something you hadn't yet realised? The idea nagged at you, even as you tried to push it aside.

You managed to push yourself off the bed, tidying the sheets and led yourself to the front of your door, turning the knob to head for somewhere, anywhere. Though, no clear intention really presented itself to you. 'What to do with myself…I suppose a change of scenery could do me some good. For once. Not that I had anything else to do.' You thought to yourself.

After a few minutes well into aimlessly wandering, you stood at the threshold before walking inside, the mouth of the library engulfing you and its doors magically closing on their own—crashing in with a loud thud. The smell of old parchment welcomed you.

It seemed to only be you here. And the librarian.

You made a beeline for the literature section, the bookshelf was curtained in dust. Most thought of old things as borish, so it's to no one's wonder that it hadn't been touched.

You pulled out a book from the fourth shelf using a ladder, a book of turquoise leather binding and a golden spine. The cover had an engravement of a simple rose, peculiarly, its centre spiralled inwards and sometimes shone at you. You read the title: 'The whispers from no end, the collection.' It was a small thing. No bigger than your hands by 2 inches. The cover was still intact and wasn't actively rotting away in your hand…deducting that you were its first reader in ages. Atleast that's how you thought it worked.

Its charming cover attracted you, almost as if handing itself over to you. you slid down the ladder to make your way to one of the desks as you already began flipping through the pages.

You settled for a random page and began reading.

And when shadows swirled

around a solitary candlelight,

aware that it was seen

only by virtue of its glow.

At an opportunity to take leave

it scampered toward the exit,

yet with every step,

a cold breeze pushed it back.

In a moment of realisation,

it retreated into the depths

of the desolate manor,

unfurnished and shrouded in darkness.

You murmured the lines to yourself, jotting down notes for dissecting later. The notes didn't necessarily have to be done neatly, but just legible enough for you to understand.

From the right of you, you heard a sudden crack. Your eyelids burst open as you picked up the sound of glass shattering, but the windows in front of you seemed intact—The mystery of it confounded you.

Your eyes landed on the book you had just picked up, bringing it up close to your face once more to inspect it. It shone yet again in your eye, forcing you to jar your head and avoid the ray. At once, you picked up on a glass bead at the centre of the spiralled rose.

A crack ran along the delicate glass, atypically managing to break itself with no external force, that's what you thought, anyhow.

Your attention was engaged to the peculiar object, it almost lured you in. "...What could've possibly happened to you?" despite being something inanimate, you spoke to it as if you were referring to something that was animate. People would wonder why they'd always catch you doing this.

Your fingers ran along the fissure, untill it cut the tip of it. Pulling your hand back to your body, pinching the fingertip and swiping away the droplet of blood. Your blood seeped into the glass. Dropping the book and leaving it open.

It was that awful jabbing headache again. You've had almost enough of this tantalizing torture. But there was little to nothing you could do. "And if I had sought medical help, I'd have to down another useless pill."

Knowing that practically every item in here was laced with magic, you knew that you must have managed to involuntarily trigger something. And with such an anomalous appearing cover nonetheless.

"Agh…No, wait! Ack! I already have a curse on me—! I don't need another!"

With the senses that you had left, you managed to clasp the book shut with a loud slam—the pressure and force could've compressed the pages back into its former crisp and straight state. And by luck, your troubles were gone—and it only puzzled you even more so than answering anything.

Even the library seemed to hold its breath, anticipating another sudden outburst to happen. But nothing came after. And this became your telltale sign that it was time to leave.

Cautiously picking the book back up, you checked to see if it would come back alive, which it didn't—fortunately. You didn't bother to ask the librarian if you could borrow it—not wanting to show that you have…broken it.

By then, the hallways were painted in orange hues that reflected off of the pristine marble pillars and floors, your heels clicked against the tiles and echoed throughout. You eventually made it to the grand staircase that led up into the dorm rooms, though quite a hassle to walk up—since by every stop you'd have to catch your breath—it was gorgeous nonetheless.

You stumbled a bit on the way, but you ultimately made it back to your room safe and sound, removing your shoes— lugging the book onto your desk and crashing into your bed—Allowing yourself to melt into the sheets. Inward and outwardly exhausted.

"I can't exactly sit here and do nothing…can I…? Haha…" You chuckled to yourself. picking yourself up and sitting down at the edge of the bed, swinging one leg over the other. "'Go seek someone' He says! I've already gone to a doctor before, and if it did work, I wouldn't be complaining now!" You sighed into the palm of your hand.

“Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, it’s like I hit a wall. What am I even missing?”

“Well, at least the day's winding down,” you said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Maybe a break will do me some good. It’s not like I’m making any progress here.” With a resigned sigh, you pushed the thoughts aside, resolved to get some rest. You lay back on your bed, letting the soft mattress calm you.

As you closed your eyes, the room fell silent, save for the faint echoes of your own thoughts drifting into the night.

Note: HEYEYEY srry for the lobg update i was dealinf with problems, my bad gng🙏 APOLOGIES FOR ANY WRITING ERRORS😊

[t3ddyd0ll]

wyatt and emil with a negative rizz darling. Has no idea how to ask for attention it love other than shouting “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PELASE PELASE.” Chronically online darling with severe brain rot, constant mentioning stupid tiktok, old vines, newer trends. Darling thats tries to tell a lame joke or pickup line and stutters through it all. Completely fucks up the wording. You feel me??(( WDJEJWOSKIW

yesssss hehe

wyatt would find this so so entertaining. they also are chronically online so they could truly keep up with darling!! would love to snuggle up together and waste time on tik tok or youtube, love to reference things and find new things to talk about on what's happening in the digital world!!

and their calls for attention and flirting would be sooooooooo endearing. wyatt would get such a kick out of this and tease darling about it a LOT.

emil would be confused on a lot of the references but would do his best to keep up. he'd think it's kinda interesting that darling has so much knowledge on this other side of things that he doesn't, and would enjoy stalking their accounts to find out more of their tastes and secrets :)!

with the attention seeking and jokes/flirting, emil would also find this very entertaining. he'd do things to make darling trip up even more, and would tease darling about it WAY worse than wyatt would. wants to see darling blush and try again and again to get it right

[hurtfortea]

Was doing some writing exercises and...

So, I decided to use a three random word generator to get, well, three random words to create scenes from. Strangely, they all turned out kind of whumpy! Perhaps this is just a sign that I am a very dark minded person, but hey-

Figured I'd share.

Prompt #1: bulb, offender, proposal

"Stop! You have nowhere left to run. Put your hands on your head!" She shouts, coming to a stop a couple paces behind him. He freezes at the end of the hall, slowly lifting his hands. They link together behind his head as he stares at the concrete wall in front of him. "Get down on your knees!" She demands. He turns to face her instead, looking strangely relaxed, despite having a gun pointed at him. "I said get down!"

He sighs. "I want to make you an offer."

"You don't have anything I want." She snaps, eyes narrowing.

"Oh yeah? How about your life? Look down."

Inexplicably, her throat tightens, and her eyes slowly trail from him to the ground around her feet. She keeps her gun pointed ahead, though. There are vines all over the floor, some sprouting strange little buds. One, with its stem crushed under her foot, is pointed up at her, its little pedals parted slightly. There's a bit of, barely visible, green gas seeping from it. Slowly, she lowers her gun.

"What's your offer?"

Prompt #2: error, whisper, analysis

"No, no, no," she says, watching the monitor freeze, an error warning popping up at the center.

"It was never going to work," a voice whispers in her ear, and she whips around, but there's no one there. Slowly, she turns back to the computer, running her fingers through her greasy, unkempt hair.

"I'll figure it out. I have to."

Prompt #3: refer, urgency, steep

"My doctor told me to come to you, please, you're the only one who can help us!"

The man frowns, his wrinkles accentuated by the expression. "The operation won't be easy. I'll need proper payment."

"I'll give you anything you want! Anything!"

He leans closer, his eyes lighting up a sickly yellow. "Even yourself?"

Prompt #4: compensation, pain, poll

He curls further in on himself, clutching his broken body.

"We need to decide on what to do with him." One of the men standing over him say.

"Ah, we seen dis shit before. No one ever gets away with the cover up. The secret will come out eventually, ya?" Another asks.

"You've been watching too many movies, Lonnie."

"Nah, he's got a point. How 'bout we take this guy to the nearest hospital, and he can agree to keep his trap shut. Eh? Right, buddy?" The man prods him with a foot, and he groans, nodding slightly. Anything, if they'll just get him some medical attention.

"Pah, if you haven't fucking noticed, there's a reason we're driving on the back roads! If we go out to town, someone's gonna notice none of us are fuckin sober!" At this point, he can hardly tell which of them is speaking.

"Alright, you've got a point. How about we just call someone then?"

"What's to say he doesn't talk?"

"Screw it, how about we just pay him? What do ya say, kid? Wanna make some cash?" They nudge him again, and he releases a low whine.

"Let's vote on it, ey, lads? Everyone for doin nothin?"

It's an excruciating couple of minutes before they come to a decision, and he flinches when something drops on his face. It feels like paper. His eyes open to see bills. Dollar bills.

"Dere ya go, bud, that should cheer ya up."

"Good luck, pal!"

"Don't go yapping."

With that, they leave him. He listens to the sound of their car as it starts and then speeds away. The crickets sound loudly in the forest around him, the sky near black. He wonders if they called anyone.

[eravicis]

Solo Leveling // Legends Never Die

Title: Chapter 10 - Grind Series: Solo Leveling ( I Alone Level Up ) Pairing: Sung Jin-woo/Original Female Character Rating: Mature Chapters: 10/? Word Count: ~6304 A/N: It only took… three years… haha… did you miss me? ;; It's been so long that I wonder if people will like this chapter… hope you like it! ><;

Again, I will tag the appropriate tags at the beginning of each chapter to avoid general spoilers.

*agasshi (아가씨) - miss *halmeoni - granny/grandmother *eomma - a casual reference to mother/mom

I tried adding some introspection, but I think that's hard to do in that situation.

Summary: Jinwoo is faced with an ultimatum, and Yoona stumbles her way into an "easy" way of grinding through the system.

—  x  —

AO3

Lizards.

It's a slang term that refers to the people who betray other party members, saving their own skin and leaving them behind. It's not the same as the situation with Jinwoo or Yoona in the Double Dungeon since they had volunteered to be left behind so as not to drag down the party in their escape. These people, however, save themselves for their own personal gain.

Jinwoo recollects a conversation he had with another Hunter named Oh. He clarifies that because being a Hunter is dangerous, it's expected that risk and injuries come with the job. However, the problem with the job is that their current electrical technology loses its functions once it enters the Gate. Or rather, it's more like there is no technology that's able to connect to the other side of the gate. Thus, people cannot watch what's happening inside the Gate from the outside. (It's been said that humans and hunters have yet to develop the necessary tech to withstand the transport through the portal due to the high mana density.)

This makes it very difficult to prove a crime has been committed inside the dungeon. Without the security of technology to monitor inside the dungeons, there is no way to stop a hunter from committing any sort of crime. So the weaker someone is, the more expendable they become. However, if someone is strong, people seek that strength and will cling to them.

But, if a hunter says that they're useless or even get in the way, then, like a lizard leaving its tail behind, a person can end up being cut in more than one way.

And it's this specific warning that repeats itself in Jinwoo's mind as Jinho panics, watching their exit disappear. Even if they tried to stop them from trapping them within the boss room, the attack force was ready to strike them down if anything changed.

Paying attention to details wasn't needed, hm? Jinwoo suddenly understands what Hwang Dongsuk means. 

Dropping the bags onto the ground, he muses that this giant spider monster, the boss, is nothing like his traumatizing experience in the Double Dungeon. In fact, there's a feeling that perhaps this is fate that he gets this opportunity to test his current abilities on a C-Rank dungeon boss.

"That's mine," he says, his dagger summoned to his hand as he prepares for combat.

And for the first time, he smiles with confidence.

—  x  —

The destruction where the Gate opened is disastrous.

There's shouting in the distance, but what remains of the park is gone and, instead, is littered with debris and wounds on the earth from the blasts in the ensuing battle. What people could be saved are pulled off the field and the only people left are some Hunters trying to fend off the boss.

Yoona runs as fast as she is able to get closer. But from a distance, she could only watch who she could assume to be the healer dropping to the ground from mana exhaustion. The only person left standing appears to be a tank, holding his shield up. In front of him is a plant-like creature, tall and massive, that stands easily four stories tall, wood and vines making up its form between its bark. It stands in front of the blue portal, wavering and threatening to allow more creatures to escape the dungeon. Its build is very similar to that of a stocky golem, a four-legged creature with a tree trunk for its face. Glowing green eyes gleam from between its bark as its front arm lifts and quickly drops it.

But the back of the head of the tank bracing for impact is familiar, someone she didn't expect to see so soon on the frontlines.

"Adrien!"

His head doesn't turn, bringing up his shield to block an incoming attack from the large plant-like golem.

Yoona doesn't want to assume, but it looks like she has caught them between waves. This also means that they don't have much time for Adrien to catch her up on what's happened thus far. This creature looks like they're the last one of the group that's managed to escape the dungeon's gate.

The healer passed out, exhausted, with her health low to the point that it's in danger. Yoona sees both of their health bars above their heads, like a video game, and the corners of her mouth twitch. Honestly, how much is the System making her see this as a video game instead of a life-or-death situation?

Clearly, someone has a terrible sense of humor.

She doesn't even think when she utters a healing spell with the wave of her hand, the sparkling glow that comes from her fingers shimmering over Adrien, who's about to take another blow to his shield. He manages to brace it in time as he is enveloped in the healing glow of her healing magic. He sinks into the earth under its forceful weight, cracking and breaking the earth around him, a grunt before he changes it into a yell to shove the creature off his shield.

Yoona slides into place beside the healer, looking over the healer's condition. She's weak, dripping in cold sweat, and exhausted from mana exhaustion, on top of the low health. She waves a hand over her face and utters a heal to watch most of their injuries disappear and finally breathe without the distress.

The creature shudders, stumbling back from how Adrien threw it off-balance.

He spares her a glance back with a small grin. "Much thanks for the assist."

"Of course," she responds with a grin, happy to see her friend again. But this isn't the time to play catch-up.

The creature slams its large hoof-like feet down on Adrien's shield again and he gets shoved deeper into the earth.

"Need help?"

"A little," he grunts and shoves the creature with more strength again once Yoona has finished healing him to full.

Huh, finished healing him. Is there something he should be aware of? Above all else, healed him to full? This is Yoona that came to his aid, right? But, she has… white hair?

The idle thoughts disappear when the golem drops its foot back down on the shield in a rushing force that Adrien gets pummeled, disappearing into the earth under his buckler like a hammer hammering a nail into the ground.

Setting the healer away from the battle, Yoona pulls her staff out from her inventory in a shimmer of electrical golden light and it swirls around her in anticipation of what's to come. With a grin, Yoona twirls the staff in her hand. No longer does she feel intimidated by such a daunting and seemingly overwhelming creature from the Gate, but Yoona is excited to test out just how powerful this new staff of hers is.

—————  x  —————

(!) 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 [POISON] is ineffective against TREE GOLEM!

—————  x  —————

A pity, Yoona thinks. But it confirms that it's a golem rather than a living creature. She had a feeling that the area-of-effect poison would be ineffective against it. Idly, if she was a fire mage, she could probably do some really intense damage. Well, if this were a video game that's based off of elemental properties like a certain little pocket monster series.

Still, she casts a buff spell on herself, which buffs all of her physical and defensive stats temporarily, and takes off running.

The golem notices her and turns in her direction.

It's too slow to respond when Yoona runs until she's just in front of it, and then jumps straight up. With more strength than she realizes she has when she becomes level with its face, Yoona takes this opportunity to stab the golem in its eyes with her spear.

With a roar, it pulls its head away from the offending weapon.

With the strength she now has, thanks to her recent level gain, she pulls back and her staff-turned-spear cleaves clean the head of the golem off of its trunk body. And in nanoseconds, Yoona watches as its vines move swiftly to grab for its head. 

In the same momentum, Yoona doesn't give it a chance to recover, and she twirls in mid-air, grabs an ax from her inventory, and drops its blade down into the center of the trunk where its head once was. With how much force she applies to the ax, she continues the motion with several strikes from her left to her right and back again before the ax breaks from fighting against the golem's trunk.

As it shatters, it disappears into the air in a fit of blue light and sparkles when she releases it.

With its trunk cleanly cut open from her ax, it exposes its center, the core. Different from the monster's magic cores that drop from a monster's defeat, this one is what controls this creature. From somewhere else, its monster magical core will appear.

Dropping down onto the staggering headless body, Yoona lifts her spear and points the sharp blade at the core. Without pause, she brings it down and breaks the jewel-like blue orb, breaking it into near halves.

With a broken groan of wood grinding, it stumbles and drops to its knees, shaking the earth.

—————  x  —————

(!) 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 You have leveled up!

—————  x  —————

She blinks at the notification. Really? How easy is it really to level up like this? Still, she's not going to complain if it means she's leveling up. However, she wishes with every level up, she has something more than that to allot more points into her stats.

Maybe she's going about this wrong. Idly, she makes a mental note to look over the interface again later.

Canceling the effect of her buff spell, Yoona jumps down to the ground where Adrien is busy digging himself out of the hole. He blinks when he realizes the golem is down. His head swivels, blinking repeatedly when his gaze lands on Yoona.

She twirls the staff and replaces it back inside her inventory in a flash of light, making her way over to him. Her gaze subtly narrows when the hairs on the back of her neck lift and she tries to resist the urge to look around, aware that she's being watched. Yoona needs to feign ignorance or else, it's possible that those watching would figure out she's been Reawakened.

"Need a hand?" she asks again. It's amusing considering he's about halfway out of the hole and is still waist-deep inside it.

"Yeah," he says, holding his hand up from the hole. She braces his wrist and pulls him out with surprising ease.

Yoona lets him go as Adrien blinks, looking her over and dusting himself off while she looks at her hand and flexes her fingers. How curious; normally, Adrien is considerably heavier than he looks because he's muscular. Plus, equipped with the gear, he's a size that someone of her frame would have trouble moving. 

"Yoona?"

The incredulous tone comes when comprehension dawns on him.

She turns her head to face him, giving him a small smile.

"No, wait," he says, shaking his head in disbelief and lifting a hand to her and the other to his head, "you can't be her—last I checked, she had black hair and her healing spells literally couldn't heal me to half health, let alone to full." He drops his hand and crosses his arms across his chest with a scrutinizing stare.

"Who are you?"

"Haha." Yoona averts her gaze and nervously forces a laugh, wondering how she's going to explain to Adrien that she experienced a Reawakening and is capable of getting stronger? Hell, she wonders if he would even believe her. Much less believe her about her ability to see now an interface that she calls her own personal video game. Even if the consequences of said video game mean the end of people's lives.

Adrien arches a brow.

"A-ny-way, we should head inside the gate and kill the boss before any more of those creatures respawn," Yoona says, holding her hand to her eyes to peer at their surroundings when there seem to be no more creatures around that have otherwise escaped. However, in doing so, she can't seem to see who it is that's watching her, but she can sense that there are two B-Rank Hunters nearby. They weren't there earlier when she took down the golem, but definitely after.

Maybe if she really tried, she could probably throw a dagger in the direction just to scare the living daylights out of them.

He squints and then stares at her for a moment longer before hefting a heavy sigh. "Alright, I'll let it slide this time but—!"

"—… But what?" She looks hesitantly in his direction. Honestly, lying has never been her forte.

"You owe me some kind of explanation other than what I can only assume is… whatever I think it is."

This time, Yoona's wariness drops and she's left surprised. Taken aback by his vague wording, her brows quickly furrow when her thoughts start running. Assumptions like he's on the radio with the UK Hunters Association or perhaps, the people that she senses that are nearby might have something to do with it.

There's a sharp look in his eye that warns her to leave it at that and radios that all is clear and that he's heading into the Gate.

He gestures with his head for them to head inside and with one final cursory glance around, Yoona follows.

Inside the Gate, a forest with high temple walls greets her with tall trees and high underbrush. They stand in a clearing in the middle of a forest where its canopy shrouds the floor of the forest in shifting shadows. The temple walls make it feel like a maze and the canopy of the trees is the ceiling.

"Damn," Adrien swears.

Yoona has seen her fair share of Gates and sometimes there are new ones to explore. This one is a meld of the typical forest dungeons often found through a Red Gate—a dungeon that locks its Hunters inside until all of the hunters have died or it's cleared—and a typical dungeon. Generally, each one specifically has limitations, much like typical dungeons where there is a direct or a maze-like path to be explored upon entry.

"What? This dungeon isn't to your liking?" Yoona asks, somewhat amused.

"It's fine," he shrugs weakly. "But, I just realized, how are we going to clear the dungeon and beat the dungeon boss by ourselves? We're not exactly high-ranking Hunters."

Yoona feels it's probably safe now to tell him about her recent changes.

"But!" Adrien takes a few steps forward, casting a glance in Yoona's direction with an arched brow. "Something tells me that something happened to you after we left that hell of a place." He steps close to her, relieved and with bright eyes.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gives her a watery smile. "You made it and—" he squeezes her shoulder, "—I'm really glad you did."

Yoona smiles, nodding, and placing a hand on his to give him a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah," she says, feeling a strange lump forming in her throat. "A lot happened."

Adrien quirks a crooked smile, pulling Yoona in for a tight hug. Yoona forces the lump down her throat, appreciative of his genuine care for her welfare. It's been far and few between since people often wanted something from her or found her more of an inconvenience. But Adrien has always been a friend first and foremost, even after they found out their ranks as Hunters.

So when he pulls away, he clears his throat and straightens, giving her another look over.

"Hm."

He glances around the dungeon. Scratching his head, he crosses his arms across his chest and arches a brow. He returns his attention back to Yoona.

"So," he begins, giving her an expectant look.

Nervously, Yoona laughs and averts her gaze.

"You took down that golem with no problem—you wanna share something with the class? Or namely, I don't know, me? Cause I feel like I need to know something before we die trying to clear this dungeon." And then he arches a brow. "And weren't you… hm, I dunno, shorter?"

He makes a gesture hovering over her head and to where she comes up to his shoulder.

Lifting her gaze up to the taller, Yoona clears her throat and places a hand on her hip. She tries not to think about how her height correlates to Adrien. (But, she was definitely up to his chest before, no, wait, smaller? And now, she comes to his shoulder?) "Well, remember the double dungeon?"

The sound of the forest rustles in the back and the humidity is palpable that Yoona wipes at her brow. Even Adrien adjusts the armor he wears as he readies his equipment, sensing the change in the atmosphere. Again, Yoona pulls out her staff with a shimmer of light.

He twirls his sword in his hand before raising his buckler, moving ahead of her as they start venturing into the dungeon. "Is this a rhetorical question?"

Ah, right, stupid question but she honestly blames nerves. She isn't sure how he'd take the news, but she feels like she owes him that much, having been one of the few people who experienced the double dungeon. Adrien is one of the few people that's stuck with her since she started working as a Hunter.

"Wait." He turns his head to give her another look over and looks dumbfounded. "Did you get a Reawakening?"

"Focus, Adrien!" 

He shakes his head. "Talk and cover for me—surely, you can do that, can't you?"

Yoona makes a face but moves after him, positioned behind him for any attacks that would come from the front. She supposes old habits die hard and follows as she sighs, finding she isn't nervous about the dungeon, but rather how he'd react to her news. After all, she hasn't even told Jinwoo about it yet. Maybe it's just easier to tell Adrien since he was there—at least, he was there before she "died."

"There's not much to tell you except I might've Reawakened."

She resists the urge to grimace and slap herself on the forehead.

"'Might've? Might've? ' So you're telling me that your white hair has nothing to do with your highly probable Reawakening?"

Ah, she really can't fool him, can she? Foolishly, Yoona thought she could back out of telling him the truth, but she's come this far. The guilt that Adrien knows before Jinwoo manifests itself in her chest, clawing at her, but at the very least, she owes Adrien. He was there and it's not fair of her to keep this from him when it's all too obvious that he can see the changes.

She scratches her head and sighs. "Alright, so I—sort of, yeah—had a Reawakening, but when I got tested by the Monitoring Division, there was no change in my evaluation."

This is the truth, despite Adrien sparing her an scrutinizing look, opting in lieu of investigating around the corner of the dungeon. Somehow, she has a feeling he doesn't believe her. This is proven true when they clear a couple of floors of the dungeon, most of it emptied when the Gate opened earlier and let them roam outside in their world, and all Adrien does is sigh in the most exaggerated manner.

Dramatic, really.

"I'm serious!" Yoona decides to emphasize. "I was evaluated to still be an E-Rank when they came to the same conclusion you did. They were there when I woke up."

Adrien, again, remains skeptical, but decides after a moment more that he seems to believe her.

Their investigation through the dungeon is anti-climatic, finding that most of the monsters have already left the gate, leaving only the boss deep inside the dungeon. However, there's an odd tingle down her spine at the feeling when she approaches it. Nerves? Anxiety? No, it's probably something like excitement? Oh, yes, that's it.

It's been awhile since she got to test out the limits of her newfound abilities that she's excited about fighting this dungeon boss.

The boss, in the end, is at a higher level than the previous bosses she's fought before.

No, she's wrong.

There's more than one boss at the end, and she's positively giddy.

"But, something did happen while I was down there, and I don't know if you'll believe me," Yoona starts, wondering if this is okay. Telling Adrien before she's telling Jinwoo feels somehow wrong and her grip tightens on her staff before she relaxes again.

But Jinwoo wasn't there.

Would he understand?

"You won't know until you try and tell me, right?" Adrien shrugs. He relaxes now that they've cleared the dungeon. It seems the Gate has already released every creature from the dungeon out into the world. He sheathes his blade and continues to navigate the maze. "And at this point, I can almost believe anything can happen. If we can stumble upon a rare double dungeon that has S-Gate monsters inside it, then anything is possible."

"You think there's more than that out there?" Yoona blinks, incredulous. "And do you think our luck is really that bad?"

"Why not? These Gates only started showing up ten years ago and we still don't know everything about them or why they started showing up. Plus," Adrien pauses briefly to give her another glance, "anything's possible now. I really hope that we're really not that—" he grimaces, "—'lucky' to encounter another one of those dungeons."

Yoona presses her lips into a thin line, furrowing her brows. It's like a conspiracy theory, one that seems common on the internet. She can only imagine why they would come to this conclusion.

Especially when their theory holds true: at the end of this dungeon are two large creatures that she could guess as two boss monsters.

She senses it before she sees it in the next room over. They enter a cavernous room with large trees encompassing the sides and their long branches filling the ceiling and covering the sky. Large tiles and building pieces of an ancient civilization are littered into pieces on the sides, giving the impression the ceiling caved in and its debris is left in the middle of the room.

Movement in the corner catches their attention that Adrien barely lifts his shield in time to brace for impact.

"Adrien!"

It's an explosion of energy and debris that shoves Adrien from where he once stood, his feet sliding along the ground as he explodes into the wall of the temple. Smoke covers him that Yoona can't see whether or not—

Another movement on her other side that she barely lifts her staff in time to brace for impact and she's sent flying into the other wall in her own explosion of debris.

She coughs out, surprised, and barely moves in time when another movement in the smoke catches her off guard that she drops, crouches, and then lunges with her staff.

It barely nicks whatever is attacking her, taking advantage of the brief smoke to hide itself from her view.

But it's strong, sturdy, and she knows she hit it.

It takes a moment more that she dodges the next impact, jumping forward to duck into a roll that takes her a few steps closer back to the center of the boss room.

"Adrien! You doing okay?!"

"Oh, never better! Ugh," he groans as he manages to pull himself from being pummeled by whatever it is that is attacking them.

What on earth is this boss?

No, Yoona sensed two earlier—

The smoke finally clears as she hears the growling, low and deep, that she makes the connection that it's what she had speculated—two bosses.

Well, she speculated one mini-boss and the actual boss but watching as the two jaguar-like creatures circle them told her otherwise. One is slightly smaller than the other with both sporting inky black coats and four large black wings along their back. While they don't have paws, they have talons, moving with surprising dexterity and quiet that Yoona swears they probably also had some kind of paw pad.

And they're both triple her height.

They circle her now as Adrien comes to the center of the arena. Yoona couldn't help the small smile she makes, an excitement she didn't know she could have in the face of danger manifesting in the face of a new challenge. Her grip on her staff tightens and then relaxes again, ready to move in the next moment she's ready.

Now, it'll be a little odd working with Adrien since she's Reawakened, but it can't be helped.

"Adrien, we're going to work together to take them down, right?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only one here that can help, so yeah!"

Even though she's not looking at him as they have their backs to one another, she can practically hear his eyes roll at her rhetorical question.

But she doesn't get to explain her plan when both of the jaguar-like creatures lunge and it takes all of what strength she has to take the weight of its force against the staff. It's heavy and she barely manages to brace for it. But feline creatures move just as fast as she's able to manage and the second paw comes that she barely manages to angle the staff just enough to block the paw.

However, she isn't quite right and its claws manage to just cut through her clothes that it draws blood.

Yoona winces and thinks of the buff skill that shrouds herself in a brief aura of red.

—————  x  —————

[SPELL: 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 has been activated.]

[Your SPEED and STRENGTH have increased by 30%.]

—————  x  —————

It's a little soon but she wants to take care of this quickly and before her [Fatigue] becomes a problem.

—————  x  —————

[EFFECT: "𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐙𝐄": The opponent will be paralyzed at a certain rate.]

[EFFECT: "𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍": Whenever a spell is cast, foes within 25 ft. of the caster will lose 1% of their health per second.]

—————  x  —————

She pushes back, sending the creature back that it's surprised, unable to find ground at the accelerated speed that comes from [Burn Booster.] The tip of the spear slices through one of its front legs that it cries when it's sent flying into the wall. And in one fluid motion, Yoona turns on her heel with the ease of a dancer to skewer the other that's digging its claws into Adrien's shield, right into its chest.

It reels back with a screech, realizing that this one is the mini-boss when she pulls her spear free to find that there's a red jewel adorning its neck.

"Cover me!"

Adrien tries to read what Yoona commands when she ducks, the other one coming forward from behind her once more with another lunge. He grunts from exertion at the weighted momentum when his shield barely manages to connect with the attacking Alpha. And while he's distracted, Yoona turns to spear the boss creature right into its breast. But it misses the mark of its heart and she braces herself.

Just like its partner did, it rears back with another screech and she pulls her spear back.

—————  x  —————

[EFFECT: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐙𝐄 has been activated.] [EFFECT: 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 has been activated.]

[The foe's resistance was too high. The effect(s) was canceled.]

[Fatigue: 39]

—————  x  —————

Damnit!

Yoona watches as Adrien falters, thinking victory is at hand when the other jaguar creature manifests and pounces. He barely manages to raise his shield in time as he's sent to the ground, barely able to withstand fang and claw as he's pummeled. His health bar rapidly falls when Yoona utters another [Heal].

—————  x  —————

[EFFECT: 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 has been activated.]

[The foes' resistance was too high. The effect(s) was canceled.]

—————  x  —————

This immediately draws both of the jaguar creatures attention to her.

Damnit!

Sparing a glance back at Adrien, she finds him knocked out, but alive and breathing with his health in the clear. With his shield resting on his chest, at least, he's mostly protected for the moment that she diverts her attention back to the prowling jaguars.

How did Adrien get knocked out when she healed him to full? What's more, wasn't he just fine moments ago?

Yoona backs away from the two approaching prowling predators as both of their wings shimmer. The hairs on the back of her neck tell her that they're only going to get faster. There's no way that their only attacks as boss creatures are fangs and lunging claws.

She twirls the staff in her hands, making sure they both can see it, but she's vastly outnumbered. 

Just as she guessed, their wings shimmer and they both seem to take turns lunging as they begin to bounce off the walls. They become faster and faster and she's not able to block each of their attacks. Each one becomes heavier and heavier that she has a hard time keeping up until she's getting hurt. She can hear her health plummeting.

—————  x  —————

[EFFECT: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐙𝐄 has been activated.]

[The foes' resistance was too high. The effect(s) was canceled.]

[Fatigue: 58]

—————  x  —————

Yoona isn't built to directly take hit after hit like this. And she's getting incredibly tired taking such heavy blows that she can tell if she tried taking any more of a beating, she won't make it. Why are they so fast and somehow, hitting her so goddamn hard ?!

And then, she sees it: her opportunity to break through.

—————  x  —————

[SKILL: 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐃 has been activated.]

[Your SPEED has increased by 30%.]

—————  x  —————

They both jump at the same time and she jumps up higher the moment they cross over one another. With one flick of her wrist, she swings the spear clear across the backs of their neck to the bone of where their spine connects their skulls. Instead, she meets resistance as she slices through the fanciful accessories adorning their necks.

But, it's deep enough to cause serious damage that their cries are enough to make her wince. She lands with another flick of the staff-turned-spear and braces herself, not wanting to give the jaguars any room to breathe. Yoona lunges, going after the jaguar on the right as it falters.

"Heal!"

—————  x  —————

[EFFECT: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐙𝐄 has been activated.]

[𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒(𝐄𝐒) are paralyzed.]

[EFFECT: 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 has been activated.]

[The opponent will lose 1% health per second.]

—————  x  —————

Rejuvenation floods her, relieving her of the built up fatigue as she begins to flick through her weapons repertoire to slice through the first winged jaguar. She summons forth an ax and slices through the tendons of their legs; summons a sword to finish the job as she cleanly beheads it; and, summons a claymore to double tap as she downward slices through its heart.

Taking that same claymore, she swings with a force the other winged jaguar isn't prepared for. It isn't able to move as it takes the blade straight through its heart. She sheathes the blade back into her inventory and summons the sword once more to behead the jaguar.

She drops to a knee, dropping the sword down to the ground as she hears pings going off once more.

Finally taking a breath, Yoona returns to standing as she swings her braid back and wipes her brow. She picks up the sword and returns it back into her inventory to draw out a dagger. Yoona is going to earn some money for all of her efforts, otherwise; there's no point in being a hunter. And plus, no one else is here, right?

Well, except Adrien and she pauses before going to the corpses of the creatures.

She makes her way over to Adrien, kneeling beside him to check both his pulse and his breathing. Thankfully, her initial glance at both the health bar and mana bar seem fine and he's not in any danger. But she does feel a small bump at the back of his head that matches the small little icon next to his health bar. Ah, did he fall in a bad way that either conveniently or inconveniently knocked him out?

Yoona isn't sure whether or not she's lucky or not that he didn't see how she took out the dungeon's boss. With a sigh, she decides to leave him be for the moment so she can go ahead and extract the mana crystals. The faster she does this, the sooner they can leave.

Using the knife with the precision and training Yoona gained from med school, she cuts out the crystals and stows them in her inventory. As she does so, all she can think about is how this will finally pay for her schooling and finally, start to get herself out of the negatives. Maybe if there's any extra, she can send some to Jinwoo…

At the thought, she hopes he's doing okay, lifting her gaze up at the sky as though her thoughts would reach him.

—  x  —

"Of course you'd betray me; I'm weak."

Jinwoo expects this, but color him surprised when Jinho decides to take his side. It didn't take very long for the words he knew were coming from Dongsuk. Is this really how these people are going to do this?

"Have you… ever killed someone before?" Their eyes gleam menacingly as they stalk toward Jinwoo and Jinho.

Jinwoo doesn't even get the chance to properly think of a reaction when the System seems to do it for him as it pings.

—————  x  —————

[An urgent quest has arrived.]

—————  x  —————

He flinches, at first, thinking the System is simply acting up, but then he gets blasted into the wall behind him.

That's not what really hurts, but rather the reminder of the anger and disappointment he felt back in the Double Dungeon. The Quest Info screen fizzles, like it's losing signal in comparison to where his mind has gone. Disappointment claws at him, irritated that he forgot. Anger burns inside of him until he feels like yelling at the world.

How?

Somehow, he remembers what Yoona told him before.

" To stay angry? I think you can stay as angry as long as you want ."

" Look, anger is okay, grief is okay, spite is okay ."

How? How? How? How?

HOW? 

HOW?

The simple question buries him, enraging him that he's this foolish, this weak STILL to think that he had any kind of trust in another person. He wants to scream, wants to yell, seething in the frustration and helplessness he once had. After all, at the end of all of this, he's at fault.

How could he have…

Forgotten what kind of place this is?

That this place is governed by the strongest, by the "Survival of the Fittest" principle?

His hand grasps hold of the stones next to him, slowly pulling himself out of the rubble as a cool fury washes over him. Jinwoo hasn't been thinking clearly until just now, but he's clear now. After all, time and time again, in all of these dungeons, he's overcome death that he could almost consider it a friend. And yet, he's recovered each time. Going back in despite the possible dangers, he's mistaken that these places were safe.

He was wrong.

The System is telling him, forcing him to commit murder.

They're a THREAT.

Steel steadies his hands when he found that the answer was easy, almost surprised at himself at just how easily he accepted what he's about to do. It's asking him to either kill them or die. Why would it give such an ultimatum if it didn't have something else in store for him? Or perhaps, the system would become complicated if he were to die because he refused to take a life.

This is neither a coincidence nor an act of goodwill and it's obvious now: the System needs him. And what it needs is for him to become strong, to steel himself against all possible foes that he may face in the future. It needs him to be strong.

Jinwoo lifts himself out of the rubble despite the blood covering part of his vision. A cursory glance at his health tells him that they took out just a little under half damage of his total health. That's plenty for what he's going to do now.

Ultimately, the System isn't trying to make him stronger, but rather, he can tell that it simply wants a more powerful version of himself.

Ah, now that he knows what it wants… if the System is going to use him, then he's going to use the System.

He stands and begins walking over toward the murderers.

"Since you guys are playing around with people's lives, I'm assuming that you're also prepared to face the consequences." Jinwoo cracks his knuckles at his sides, energy sparking across his frame in his silent fury. The System is forcing him to quickly accept the fact that these people aren't worth his time, worth the effort of keeping them alive.

"What is this idiot going on about?" asks the one Hunter with a buzzcut.

"Since you call yourselves hunters, I'm asking if you're prepared to become the hunted."

"Dongsuk, I'll take care of him," says a brown haired hunter that has his hair pulled into a ponytail. He approaches Jinwoo with a confident swagger that he even has the nerve of putting his arm around Jinwoo's shoulders.

"Look, man, it seems like you still don't fully understand the situation at hand."

In Jinwoo's right hand, electrical blue lightning flickers as he resummons his dagger.

For one single moment, he thinks of Yoona. Jinwoo thinks of Yoona, a healer, who tries her best to save lives . Yoona, who's becoming a doctor.

And Jinwoo takes his first life with a single flick of his hand.

[hugemilkshake]

Yet this is a part 3 to my developing story about my Parton OCs and the powdered basil torment officially starts now so have fun!

The Watchful Witch

-Platonic-

Part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5, part 6

“Powdered Basil, and Travelers you should all meet the witch! Or well the witches little helper and their helper! Oh Powdered Basil your going to love Y/N Cookies assistant!” Bubbling Oil Cookie took Powdered Basils hand and started to drag him along. The group followed suit afterwards

The street had cookies of various kinds wondering around, some were normal, some were faeries and then others looked like something the group had never seen before.

After a minute two cookies came into view, one was taller with a big witch hat on and the shorter cookie with a puffy jacket on.

Bubbling Oil practically dashed over, dragging poor Powdered Basil along. “Y/N Cookieee!” Bubbling Oil cheered.

Y/N Cookie turned around and greeted them, the cookie next to them also turned around. “I see you dragged the wolf back in” “Well the only reason why the wolf is even here is because we have travelers!” “Can you not call me a wolf-”Powdered Basil was cut off by Y/N Cookie

“Well greetings travelers, I am Y/N Cookie, and this is my helper Adele Penguin Cookie” Adele Penguin grinned before rummaging through a pocket and pulling out a pretty dull rock. Before walking over to Powdered Basil and Giving it to him.

“It’s very nice to meet you Mr Basil! I’ve heard a lot about you!” Adele Penguin smiled. Powdered Basil took the rock and he looked… confused…?

“What.. is this?” “It’s a rock! Its a sign of respect” “…I… see…” Powdered Basil sounded a little… put off. A bird soon flew down and landed on his shoulder chirping a few things.

“I’m terribly sorry to cut this meeting short but there’s something going on with the woodland critters” Everyone looks at him “Awwww your leaving so soon? Oh well… I guess you have to do your duties… well it was nice to see you again” Bubbling Oil pouted

Powdered Basil soon walked away in a hurry leaving the group with the three other cookies. “Well travelers, you should follow me, you should meet the other patrons. They are quite lovely to be around” Y/N Cookie spoke. The group soon walked down, closer to the town center.

Wizard Cookie soon asked a question “Y/N Cookie, I heard you were a witch… is that true?” “In some form, yes it is. I was baked by a witch to watch over the patrons and make sure their souls don’t become tainted by darkness.” Everyone collectively nodded. Soon put group of cookies started to ask questions about the patrons and the kingdom itself as they started to approach the town center

Here’s an Adele Penguin reference for you :3

……

…..

….

…

..

.

Woodland critters scattered about as Powdered Basil walked through some vines that hid a little clearing of Little trinkets

“…why… why did he give me this…? I’m… I’m Not supposed to get things… but… the others get things when they help people…” Powdered Basil looked at the rock in his hand

“…it… it… IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!” He shouted as he threw the rock at a glass vase, shattering it instantly.

[cookieeks-art]

Here’s a little project I worked on last year, but kinda, forgot to post? It’s a fake Red shoes art book spread for Edda! The composition, and art styles used, is mainly based on Snow White first page, and Arthur's second page from the actual art book, including of course the artist featured in them (aka Jeon Mi-jin (전미진) who drew the art that the art on the first page and the drawing to the top right on the second page is based on, Kim Sang-jin (김상진) aka Jin Kim who drew the art that the first drawing and the four lower drawings in the second page are based on, and Choi Minjeong (최민정) who drew the the art that the top middle drawing on the second page is based on.) (I had to use Google translate to get the names in the Latin alphabet, so I apologise if there’s any mistakes, I tried to keep the Korean name order for all the names, with the exception of Jin Kim.) [EDIT: I took a closer look Arthur’s first page today and realised that it served as a bigger inspiration for the first page that I drew then I remembered when first posting this, so shout out to that page as well which have two drawings made by Jeon Mi-jin and Choi Minjeong respectively.]

If you’ve been around for a bit you might also notice that two of the drawings on the second page are redraws of older sketches, which I mostly did as a fun treat for myself, since I find redrawing old art pretty fun. I also took this opportunity to give Harriet’s clothes a small makeover, taking some inspiration from Snow herself, a bit from the shapes of Drottning Kristinas gowns (like the drape around her shoulders and how puffy their arms are, and the general shape of the collar), and most likely from looking at details of other dresses I can’t recall at the moment (I do specifically remember looking up images of historical lace collars to get an idea of how they could look, but I don’t remember if I looked at a specific site or what sites I could have looked at in that case). I tried to keep it relatively simple with some spots for details, but looking at it now I’m not entirely sure how well it would fit the movies vine fashion wise (both Regina’s and Snow’s dresses both feel pretty modern to my amateur eyes looking at the cuts and shapes), then again I guess I can always say that the fashion is different kingdom to kingdom I suppose.

Also small shout out to Kay @the-moonlightknight who was someone who helped years ago to actually put words to Eddas personality back when I had to make a reference sheet for a discords event, which is the reference I went back to and used small parts of when writing the text for the first page.

(ID in alt and under the cut)

[ID:

Two fake Red shoes art-book pages depicting my oc Edda and Harriet (A pale chubby woman, with deep eyebags, brown hair and grey eyes).

The first shows Harriet, dressed in a blue dress with lace and snowflake themed embroidery, wearing a crown and matching necklace, with her hair up in a ponytail, is looking forlornly at the viewer, her hands held before her. Edda, dressed in her casual while fluffy shirt, dark muddy red skirt and bodice, and brown leather boots, is looking to the side with a lopsided smile and holding out her knife. Cookieek is written under both of them. Behind them is a wavy dark red graphic with a pattern of thin leaves. In the bottom right corner is two patterns running side by side, one of simple tight stitches, and a more detailed snowflake inspired embroidery pattern. To the upper right of the page is a block of text titled “Edda & Harriet”, and reading: “Edda is a wise woman in the woods that Arthur stumbles upon after entering Frode kingdom to search for it’s missing princess. Edda is also the identity taken on by said missing Princess Harriet after she was able to leave the castle behind. Her life as a mistreated princess has left her jaded and with a distain for nobility and royalty, but her escape has given her hope for a better life. In leaving the identity as Harriet Edda has made a big change in her way of dress, as well as letting the mask she’d been forced into as a royal slip. She’s determined, eccentric, and considerate, with a hunger for magic knowledge. At first she doesn’t realise she’s falling for Arthur, taken in by his ridiculous yet sensitive personality and his way of smiling, but when she does she’s sure she can’t tell him at risk of making things uncomfortable between them. She doesn’t realise that a lot of the ridiculous things Arthur has done has been to show love for her, and that they are both just as willing to sacrifice themselves for the other.”

The second is a page with drawings of Edda and Harriet. The first is a grey scale drawing Harriet looking mentally exhausted, with a thousand yard stare in a profile view. Second is a head shot of Harriet crying in a blue frilly nightgown as pale hands with long nails grip the sides of her face, tips of light brown hair hovering above her. Third is a drawing of Edda sitting and talking to someone while smiling as if she’s about to laugh. Fourth is a collection of greyscale drawings of Edda making a few expressions, such as: 1, looking intrigued while grinning sinisterly with a shadow over her eyes as she holds her chin, 2, looking in awe of something with shine in her eyes, her hands hovering in front of her, 3, looking embarrassed and startled, a blush across her face and her fist held to her chest, 4, scowling deeply with a dark shadow over her eyes. Cookieek is written under all of the images.

End of ID]

[penumbramewtwos]

Short story around the time of Unova's capture, and of Okita's origins.

PLEASE READ THE TW TAGS BEFORE READING!!!

Hearing nothing but echoing corridors, Gary Oak was sure he was done for after his trip into an infamous Aunuran desert Trapinch hole. With his head bound, he knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet. He hears a familiar craggy voice address him as he's pushed onto a chair and bound in an unknown room.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Said the unknown voice, Gary's ears piped up as the man continued.

"Just as nosy as your grandfather in the pursuit of knowledge, rest assured your nosiness ends here."

After the statement from the unknown man, Gary's head covering had been lifted off, revealing a dark room with a spotlight upon himself. He knows this man… Not only from the Kanto region, but as the head of Rocket industries in Aunura, Giovanni.

"tch, well well, I knew that old man stink was bound to be you. This whole place smells of retirement home and failed yakuza." Gary quipped.

Giovanni, looking the same as he did back in the mid 2000's aside from the hair dye running down his face, leaned in from his wheelchair towards Gary to offer a deal out of this place alive. "I know what you've been digging up… Our team has taken the liberty of confiscating your 'findings'. Rest assured, you won't be publishing any of them; in fact, you'll do as I say or you'll end up more dismembered than that arm you collected."

Giovanni leaned back in his wheelchair, with a large grin on his face creasing his crows feet even more. Gary was unphased by the threat and smirked back at the acquaintance as he spoke back in a nonchalant manner, "I heard on the grape-vine you're getting back into the genetics commissioning game, and had to check it out for myself! Seems like whichever geneticist you hired this time can't even get one of those creatures to form properl-"

"Enough talk!" shouted Giovanni. "There's one more thing, seeing as you're so interested in our development"

Giovanni leant forward once more with a stern look on his face, as Gary remained stonewalled. "Your skills will be needed here one day, 'Professor Oak', I know you've been collecting and studying Arceus plates for medical research for some time now."

Gary's eyes shuddered in anger, "WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I W-"

"You despise the thought of pokemon in pain, and I'm giving you an opportunity to t-"

"Yeah yeah… So you'll put them in pain so I can take them out of it… Sounds completely ethical to do that to an innocent creature, Artificial or not…"

Giovanni paused and smirked as he leant back in his wheelchair. "So you know of the pokemon Mewtwo, and it's origins"

Gary Squirmed within his bound state in a fit of fury, "Why are you making so many!??! Some of them are still alive out there! The ones your disgusting cronies buried and chopped!"

"It doesn't matter, those ones are merely unable to form, as you put it yourself, Gary… We're nearly there, and I will have one obey my commands if it's the last thing I do on this Earth!" Givovanni coughed loud and hoarsely at the end of his statement. No one would tell if it was just his talking or the musty dark room that caused it.

Just as Gary was squirming around in his bindings, he'd been slowly able to get a pokeball to finally drop from his pants pocket, unleashing his Arcanine. "Grrrrwaarrh!!!"

In what felt like a flash, Arcanine chomped it's way through Gary's bindings and shoved Giovanni backwards into the wall with it's hind legs with no hesitation. Gary grabbed a hold of his Arcanine before using a teleportation device he refers to as 'Escape rope'.

Two Team rocket grunts charge into the room to assist the frail Giovanni as his phone rang, "Sir you need to see the medic! You shouldn't take thuds like tha-"

"I'M NOT AS DECREPID AS YOU ALL THINK!? Nghhh…"

Groaning from the incident, Giovanni reaches into his inner jacket pocket and pulls out a black rotom phone, answering it in a huff. "This better be good news! Have you found more DNA from the Unovan experiment, Drake!?"

Through the video call is a bright, curly haired woman with a piercingly defiant voice. Some of the team rocket grunts refer to her as 'the clown', as a smile has barely ever wiped off her face. Except for those few who tell tales of a grim reality behind the mask… "It's always good news! You just don't know how to take progress, ahahaha!!!"

Giovanni stared blankly into the phone's camera as she cackled, before continuing, "ahah… Well, not only did we get the rest of the samples, but we got the main cretin themselves here! Well, we let it go after we t-"

"YOU LET IT GO!?!?!? THAT WAS OUR CHANCE TO CLONE HUNDREDS OR THOUSANDS OF THEM, YOU FUCKING IMBI- what!?" As Giovanni began to unleash his tirade, the clown, known formally as Professor Kana Drake, showed him a fogged up glass and metal chamber with what appeared to be a nearly complete foetus of a mewtwo.

"I hope you're read to listen or you wont get your kitty cats!" She widely grinned and giggled through her words.

"We let her go, as we still don't know how she even got pregnant in the first place"

"P-Pregnant!?" Giovanni spluttered, "They're pokemon? They are meant to have"

"Yes, Eggs! Ahahaha! We thought it best to let her go and hope that she is found again with another baby just for us, Gio!"

She laughed more and more maniacally before continuing "This one will be a sure thing, fuse it with a docile psychic pokemon or psychically gifted human and it'll be too indecisive to think for itself!"

Giovanni grumbled with reluctance, putting more faith in the eccentric genetisist. "Drake… Once you bring it back here, I'll take care of the other component…"

"Hahahaha!! Of course sir! I knew you'd understa-"

Giovanni had hung up before she even had a chance to finish. He leans forward again, almost lost in thought. A grunt goes to ask about his condition before they're cut off by Giovanni. "Have the Gym leaders of Symphony come to their senses yet?"

The grunt blankly stares at him before checking his watch in a hurry "a-ahh! sorry sir, right away! … … Their last email reads… uh…'Get fucked, we own the gym by law, no 'protection' money will be paid… Sincerely, Ai and Amare Spes… P S … How do you plan on forcing it from us? Your pokemon are undertrained and undervalued'."

Giovanni must have been infected with the clown's disposition as his smile widened, wrinkling his elderly face as he looked at an email on his rotom phone.

"Well, how about that… According to my intelligence division, they've frozen an embryo in recent days… How lucky for us".