#imagine our group having to satisfy someone’s curiosity

[therovingstar]

I do wonder how Turali folks first reacted to Odzaya as an Au Ra, seeing as (far as I could deduce) there are no Au Ra on the continent. Do they think her scales and horns are a condition? Is she a Hyur with some Mamool Ja mixed in somewhere? Have they seen enough Auri sailors/travelers to know what she is, and her kind are just a rare sight, a la Eorzea?

Regardless, I like to think there’s been at least one exchange in which she was described, and folks got a little confused. “Blah blah blah Wuk Lamat’s party from across the salt blah blah skilled adventurer blah blah blah a fetching woman with pale horns and scales!”

The general Turali populace: “oh neat! Wait what?”

[dross-the-fish]

Colorized Hyde paced around the makeshift lab, wondering how Adam Frankenstein had assembled such a busy workshop without the aid of an assistant.  “Does Dr Watson know you have all this?” he asked, peering at an assortment of organs in flasks.

Adam shook his head, “He does not and I'd be grateful if you didn't reveal my secrets. I like Dr Watson and I know he won’t approve of my work,” he strode over to a large vat filled with liquid in the middle of the room, "If we bring Miss Morris back he may forgive me, if not I'll simply defy him. I accept no masters and though I owe him much he will not command me in this," he pulled a lever and sparks of electricity crackled down the wires connecting to the vat, charging the liquid. He waited a full minute, counting the seconds before he shut off the power.

Hyde nodded, he saw no reason to do Watson any favors or derail Frankenstein's projects so he found himself agreeable "Mum's the word, old chap, I don't see any reason why he should be in the loop,” He tapped the vat with his cane. "What's in here,"

"A compound of chemicals Victor used to submerge me in while he ran the current through my body. This, "Adam made a sweeping gesture over the vat, "Is the elixir that rejuvenates the dead cells and primes them for the electricity to do its work. it took me forever to figure out how to make it but thanks to Dr Watson granting me access to all of his medical tomes my methods may surpass even that of my maker’s," his even white teeth flashed sharply against the harshness of his black lips in a gruesome, self-satisfied grin. He imagined Victor would have been horrified to see his creation carrying on his work, but Adam had not time for guilt or self-reflection now, a life hung in the balance, waiting to be plucked back from the grave and restored.

He was almost giddy with anticipation. He had not disclosed to Hyde that the consciousness that awakened might not be that of their companion. He himself had no memories of a time before his birth and there was just as much likelihood that she too would return as a blank slate. That was not ideal, he admitted, but he could not think such a thing to be a total loss. To have another like himself would be adequate consolation for the loss of Ms Morris. Whatever was brought back, Adam swore to himself that he would not turn his back on his creation. He would do better by his progeny than his own father. Of that he was certain.

"You've resurrected people before?" Hyde's voice intruded as the small man wandered across the lab peering at the glimmering, viscous, liquids that funneled into the vat with interest.

"Not people, but I've brought back several frogs, two cats and a dog," said Adam, "It works and I think perhaps better for my access to the advancement in medicine since my makers time,” He turned to Hyde, "Now, before we begin, did you get the heart?"

Hyde drew a jar from his coat, a perfectly preserved human heart sealed within. Adam nodded in satisfaction, "Excellent, I'm not going to ask where you got it, frankly I do not care so long as it is in good condition and fresh."

"Oh it's fresh alright, and in excellent condition, I tested the donor's constitution myself before the harvest," Hyde chortled as he handed the jar over.

"Mmm, let's not tell Miss Morris that when we bring her back. I don't know how she'd take to finding out you killed someone to get a new heart for her," Adam pursed his lips, he was not legitimately displeased as fresher parts guaranteed a higher chance of success. He looked down at Hyde curiosity scrawled across his features, "Why are you so keen on helping me with this? I know you don't like Watson but this can't all be spite."

"It isn't," Hyde confirmed, "I am genuinely curious to see if this works. I am a scientist at heart after all. More to the point, I liked Miss Morris, she was the only one in our group who doesn't have a stick up her arse and she was good at cards. Besides if I’m stuck with no one but you, Watson and that sanctimonious little shit Harker then I’m going to make damn sure that you’re all as miserable with my company as I am yours. “

"You are, perhaps, the most hateful creature I have ever met...and I am myself, a vile devil," Adam remarked passively as he laid Selma's body on the table and handed Edward the scalpel, "This is your job. I could possibly do it but, I believe, you are an actual doctor and you have the learning and the experience that I lack. I trust you can transplant the heart?"

Edward frowned, "I can, though the task requires a certain level of detachment and patience. That was always Jekyll’s domain…I’ll do my best.”

Adam readied the apparatus that would bring Selma Morris back to life while Edward prepped himself for surgery. As he was washing his hands a small trickle of fear ran down his spine. Could he really do this? It was one thing to patch a small wound but a major surgery, even on a cadaver, required attentiveness and delicacy, those traits did not come easily to him without Henry’s temperance. His head swam, what if he made a mistake? What if he botched it up and they really lost her forever? He felt suddenly nauseous as he picked up the scalpel and prepared to make the first incision.  As the blade hovered over the corpse’s chest he froze, paralyzed by an overwhelming uncertainty. His anxiety built to a point that he found himself fighting the urge to slash into the body and start hacking away. Smash the lab, destroy it all and rip everything apart then burn it to the ground as long as he didn’t have to face the risk of failure.

Did he really want that? He didn’t know…that was the rub of it. Indecision held him pinned and he could feel his control begin to slip.

"Give me the scalpel, Edward," a calm voice in the back of his mind said firmly just as he was about to plunge the instrument into the dead woman’s chest, "you're too shaken up. Let me take over,"

"I'm not letting you out Henry, you tried to kill us and I haven't forgiven you! I know as soon as you're free you'll try to lock me away again!"

"No Edward, I won't. I'll transplant the heart and then I'll let you have control again. I give you my word."

"You mean that now but I know once you're out you'll be tempted! You’ll feel all of those things again that I keep at bay! Shame and sorrow will eat us if I let us be you again! We’ll want to die and we can't resist temptation no matter which of us we are!"

"Isn't Miss Morris worth the risk? I liked her too Edward. If she can be brought back then shouldn’t we try? Listen to me Edward, we don’t want to fail. We want to give this its best chance, let me have the scalpel."

Hyde resisted only briefly before he shuddered, closed his eyes and retreated. Jekyll took a moment to get his bearings, nod at Adam, who was staring at him in confusion, and then swiftly, cleanly, he made the first incision. .....

My players accidentally got an NPC killed and begged me to bring her back. This scene was the result.

[kajordi]

I Demand to See the Ambassador Story

I DEMAND TO SEE THE AMBASSADOR - read the sign written in beautiful Mkhedruli alphabet, the ancient characters of the Georgian language are delectable and readable to only around 4 million people worldwide. I deciphered the message in less than the 5 steps it took me to walk past it, thanks, in part, to my remarkable ability to read the English translation below it. The man and his two companions held the sign near the impenetrable US Embassy.  My usual curiosity compels me to engage them. What serious issue requires such a demand? My 10 minutes remaining lunch break prevents me from satisfying my inquisitive nature.

I wish people would stop and think about persuasive communication for a bit. Your wife surely loves you, right? How would it go if next time you need to talk about something important you begin with: Wife, I demand you listen to me! Wouldn’t, please give me a minute dear, be far more conducive? 

I enter my dad’s office as I would any other room at home. I announce myself and greet everyone with a hello and a smile. Then quietly sit down and wait on him. I get pacy then sleepy from waiting. My ass hurts after 45 minutes on the darn wooden bench, which, I'm convinced, dad chose brilliantly for the purpose of shortening meetings. I don’t mind waiting. My father is an important man with 900 people under his management. Well, he and the group of cousins. Not anyone has access to my dad. Had it been our trustworthy Olivio, it would have taken him a 5-hour trip to see him and probably an additional four waiting on him to go back feeling very grateful and accomplished in securing some medical treatment favor. I, on the other hand, have access to dad and I am his top priority.

I met the Ambassador the day before. I didn’t recognize her. She was so friendly and interested in me that I felt okay to casually sit by her and chat. The exchange was so delightful that I wanted to remember her name, so I asked someone nearby. That’s when I realized that I had spoken to someone powerful and important. 

I hear President Biden may go down in history as one of America’s great presidents. The complaints against him are rather of being far too personable and treating strangers like dear friends: He spoke too close to me, put his arms on my shoulders, kissed my forehead-type of grievances. I can easily imagine talking about my kids with him as I did with my honorable Ambassador. But this, I will not have the chance to. Biden is an important man. And while I have no doubt he would show interest in our chat, he has a crushing weight of responsibilities to attend to and not enough lifetimes to deal with them.

Pondering about access to powerful people I came to think about the Creator whom I affectionately call Heavenly Father. How many times have I demanded action from Him? He didn’t smack me for my impertinence as my own dad would have. At most, He ignored me a bit. Would it not be more favorable for me to try to be a little more persuasive? To humbly ask for an audience that I don’t deserve based on my bargaining power or merit and show some gratitude for it? 

Then I thought about my friend George, whom I had the pleasure of seeing recently after a couple of years. George says he no longer believes in God. It made me a bit sad. I doubt my sign holder thought about preparing a manifesto or communique to deliver to the Embassy. They would have taken it. I’m pleased my sign holder believes the Ambassador exists and has the power to do something about his situation. Whether my friend George believes in God or not, God can do something about his needs. Whether George notices it, or not, God is pulling strings to his benefit. Yet some people tend to find favor among men. They’ve figured something out. And a further yet, there are a few people that seem to find high levels of favor with God. It would be good for us to figure this one out.

[endlessbittersweetdreams]

"Broken & Beautiful" Chapter 27

WARNING: One moment of forced kissing.

My video chat experience with Jake was ... Well, it was interesting, to say the least. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as actually being with each other, in-person. Using our imagination was one thing. But at the end of our date, I just found myself craving physical contact even more. One thing is for certain: when he comes back from France, I’m going to throw him one Hell of a “welcome back,” celebration. And we’re going to be the only two people in attendance.

After Family Dinner, I join Cody behind the bar. We work in silence for a while, and I watch as Tess walks by. As I work on my task, I say to him “So, have you asked her out yet?”

Cody chuckles. “Naw. She’s cute. But she’s a little young for me. And besides, I thought you said she’s trouble.”

“She is. For someone who claims she doesn’t like drama, she sure does love to create it.”

“You don’t like her very much. Do you?”

I shrug. “It’s not like I hate her or anything. Like I said the other day, I think she means well. She has her good points, and I think she has a big heart. It’s just that she has a lot of curiosity, and sometimes that curiosity causes her to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. That tends to create a lot of drama. And like I said, Will is my best friend. She broke his heart. So ...”

“You have a protective streak, I take it.”

“You could say that. Will always says that I’m like the big sister of the group. Always trying to look out for everyone.”

Cody bends down to look under the bar, muttering “Where are the bar mops this time?”

I reach under the bar and grab hold of a bar mop, handing it to him. “Tip #1 for the day: always do a ‘grab and stash’ when it comes to bar mops. There are never enough, because Howard is too cheap to buy more. So if you see one, grab it and stash it before someone else does.”

 “Got it. Grab and stash.” Cody tucks his bar mop into his apron. “So, you hear from that boyfriend of yours?”

 I snicker to myself. “I’m 29, and he just turned 30. I think we’re a little too old to refer to each other as ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’.”

 “All right,” he begins with a grin. “Did you hear from your ...” He rolls his eyes upward, thinking. “ ... significant other?”

 “I did. And he’s enjoying his vacation. I mean, there’s a little drama with the person he went with. But other than that ...” I turn to face him. “He said something interesting, though. Mentioned that you two used to be roommates during your time at the Blue Star.”

 Cody stops what he’s doing, looking at me in surprise. “Wait. You’re dating Jake Holt?”

 I nod. “Yup. That’s the one.”

 He chuckles. “Well, this is a small world. What did he tell you?”

 “That you’re a good guy. Great bartender.”

 “But let me guess: not as good as him. Right?”

 “Yeah. Pretty much.” I fold my arms across my chest, tilting my head. “So, what was he like back then?”

 “Lookin’ for dirt on him already?” I chuckle, and he answers me. “Great bartender, for starters. It didn’t matter how rowdy things got. He knew how to handle the customers, and he was ready to throw down when necessary. I don’t know how many bar fights we were caught up in, but he always had my back. Does he still love to read?”

 “Yup. I think he loves books even more than I do. His book collection is ... Well, it’s impressive. What else can you tell me about him?”

 “I don’t know if I should tell you this. But the women loved him.”

 I laugh to myself. “That does not surprise me. Before we got together, he had quite a rep. I don’t know how many hostesses and servers he went through. All he had to do was give them what I call the ’Smirk and Smoulder’, and he’d draw them in.”

 “The ‘Smirk and Smoulder’?”

 “Oh, yeah! You know.” I do my best to demonstrate the look in question, and Cody laughs. “He even tried it on me a few times.” I gesture to the main doors. “In fact, I remember walking through those doors on my way to my interview with Howard. Jake was standing right here, behind this bar. And when I looked his way, he gave me the ‘Smirk and Smoulder’.”

 “Did it work?”

 “Then, at least. But the charm wore off when I was hired, and he had to train me. He wasn’t exactly ... easy to work with.”

 Cody shakes his head. ”That does not surprise me. But now, he’s with you. Six months. I never thought I’d see the day when Jake would stay with someone that long.”

 I shrug. “I’m just as surprised as you are. We worked together for two years before we became a couple. He helped me through a crisis, and we became friends. Then friendship became something more. I guess it helps that we both understand each other.” I don’t want to disclose too much more, not knowing what Cody knows about Jake’s past. “So, how many hearts did he break during the day?”

 “No idea. I didn’t keep track," he says with a chuckle. “There was one woman who showed up every now and then. She was older than him. Beautiful. Sophisticated. Never caught her name. But she’d spend a couple of days with him, get what she needed, and then take off again. You know, I think he actually cared for her.”

 “Why do you say that?”

 “He was always a mess after she left. It was like he was ... lost without her.”

 “You think she was his first love? The one that got away?” I know I shouldn’t feel jealous, but I do. It’s silly to think that I’m the only woman Jake has ever loved. And besides, he’s with me; not her.

 “No idea. It’s funny. Jake and I were roommates for a couple of years, but we didn’t know each other that well. But hey! Sounds like you managed to bring him out of his shell.”

 I smile. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Days later ...

 The days seem to fly by in a blur, and my anticipation grows as Jake’s return comes closer. Just one more day, and he’ll be here! I’m giddy like a schoolgirl, and it’s become noticeable to those around me.

 “You seem happier than usual,” Tess remarks as she shelves the wine glasses. “Jake coming home soon?”

 “Yup!” I confirm with a nod. “One more day to go. I can’t wait.”

 “You have any plans?”

 “Maybe,” I answer. “The plane is set to arrive tomorrow morning, and I’m meeting him at the airport. Simone had better be willing to take a separate cab back to her place, because I intend to spend some alone time with Jake. No if’s, and’s or but’s. I even took Sunday off, just so we can have extra time together.”

 “Nice!” Tess finishes putting the glasses away and then leans against the bar. “Hey. Did you know that Simone is a published author?”

 I shake my head. “No idea.”

 She furrows her brows in confusion. “Jake never mentioned it?”

 “Not one word. Believe it or not, Tess, we don’t talk about Simone that often. How’d you find out about it? Did Simone tell you? I know you two are close.”

 “No. One of the guests went to a book reading a few years ago, and Simone read one of her short stories. Something about a mermaid and a young boy.” This makes me pause for a moment. For some reason unknown to me, I start to wonder about Simone’s inspiration for this piece of fiction. “I guess she was planning on publishing a series of these stories in some quarterly. The Sewanee Review, I think. I’m going to the library on my day off to see if I can track them down.”

 I can’t explain it, but I feel uncomfortable with the idea of these stories. Is it simply another case of Simone-induced paranoia? Perhaps. Then again, you never know with her.

 “Did you ask Simone if you could read these stories, Tess?”

 “Yeah. And she said ‘no’,” she answers with a shrug. “But I figure that if they’re already published, why not?”

 “Because she said ‘no’, maybe?” I retort, turning to face her. My internal alarm bell is starting to go off, and I’m feeling annoyed. Tess seems taken aback by my tone, and I make an adjustment. “I’m sorry. It’s just ... I’m a writer, too. Granted, I write songs. I just know that if I told someone that they can’t read what I’ve written, I would want them to respect my wishes.”

 She seems to consider my reasoning for a moment. “You’re right,” she acknowledges. “I’m just ... going to get back to work.”

 I nod, watching as she steps out from behind the bar and leaves my line of vision. It’s a good thing her back is turned, because I’m glaring at her suspiciously. I wouldn’t put it past her to go ahead and read those stories. Her curiosity seems to know very few limits.

 At Home Bar, it’s busier than usual for a Friday night. It takes us a while, but we manage to find a booth that will accommodate all of us. Ari is already more than a little tipsy, thanks to a combination of Shift Drinks and her abandonment issues. As she drunkenly stumbles toward the bar, she announces with a slur “I’m buying the shots!”

 “Hey. Is your friend okay?” Cody asks, standing next to me at the bar.

 I let out a sigh and quietly answer “No. Not really. She does this every so often. Tonight’s going to be a rough one, and I can’t be there for her this time.”

 “Why not?”

 “I need my rest. Jake’s coming home tomorrow, and I’m meeting him at the airport,” I announce with a smile.

 “Just think. Come Monday, I’ll be out of your hair,” Cody remarks.

 “Nothin’ but a distant memory,” I say with a sarcastic grin. “Any plans for after this job is done?”

 He shrugs. “I handed in a few applications. Something will turn up. Something always does.”

 “This city is so big, I’m sure you’ll find a bar that’s in need of someone to tend it.” I raise my glass to him. “Hey. To new beginnings."

 He chuckles, raising his glass in return. “New beginnings.”

 We down our shots, and I set my glass down. “I’m just going to step outside for a while. Get some fresh air.” I hold up a pack of cigarettes. “Why don’t you go join the others? I’ll be back in a few.”

 Cody nods, and I make my way through the crowd and out the door. I step into the alley, light a cigarette, and lean against the wall. Taking a drag and breathing out the smoke, I stare up at the night sky and smile to myself. Just a few more hours to go, and the man I love will be home.

 I finish off my cigarette, tossing what’s left of it to the ground and stomping it out with the sole of my leather boot. I step out of the alley and turn to the right, pausing when Cody walks out. “Hey! You going home?”

 “Yeah. I’m beat. Just waiting for my ride.”

 “It’s been great working with you. Good luck with lining up another job. I’ll tell Jake you said ‘Hello’,” I say, just before I start to walk by him.

 “Hey,” Cody says softly, and I turn back to look at him.

 He suddenly pounces on me, and I find myself pinned up against the wall with his lips pressed against mine. I let out a whimper of surprise, and I try not to panic. He ends the kiss but keeps my hands pinned, and my self-defense training kicks in. Right now, he’s not in a position where he can hurt me. And so, I relax my body. In one swift movement, I bring my knee up toward his groin. Acting on reflex, he moves his lower half away from me. With him distracted, I have the chance to rotate my arms down, toward his thumbs. This breaks his grip on me, and I maneuver myself so there’s more space between us.

 Cody takes a few steps toward me, and there’s a moment when I think he seems remorseful. But I don’t want him anywhere near me, and so I ball my hand up in a fist. When he’s within range, I haul back and deck him with all the strength I can muster. Though it’s not hard enough to send him to the ground, it is just enough to get my point across and inflict pain. He brings a hand up to his bloody nose, staring at me in confusion.

 Glaring at him, I snarl “Try that again, and I swear I’ll do that and more. Stay away from me.”

 Furious, I make my way back into the bar. I’m a little shaky, thanks to the adrenaline and the shock. And so, I order myself another drink and join my friends at the booth. I stick around for another hour, giving Cody enough time to get lost before I walk home.

 Though my mind is no longer racing, I can’t help but think about what happened with him. What could have possessed him to think that forcing a kiss on me would be acceptable? Why would he think that I’d want him to do that? Did he think I was giving him some sort of signal? Had he been planning it all along? Whatever the reason, I’m glad I’ll never have to see him again. He’s scheduled to work on Sunday, and then he’ll be gone by the time Jake and I come back to work on Monday.

 I think about it for a while, and I decide that it will be best if Jake doesn’t find out about what happened. It would just rile him up and lead him to do something stupid, and that’s the last thing we need. Telling Jake about it would only open up a can of worms, and I don’t want a dark cloud hanging over our reunion. Besides, I already handled it and made it abundantly clear that I want nothing to do with Cody. Maybe punching him was a bit of an overreaction, but at least I got my point across.

 My alarm goes off early Saturday morning, when the sun has yet to come up. Still buried under the blankets, I reach out and fumble for my phone. It takes me a few tries, but I grab hold of it and switch off the alarm. I groan into my pillow, tempted to pull the old “Just five more minutes, Mom!” routine. I didn’t get much sleep, thanks to last night’s events and my excitement over Jake’s return. Maybe my “Welcome Jake back with a bang,” plans will have to be put on hold for a while, because I have a feeling that we’ll both be too tired to do much after we return to my apartment.

 I stumble out of bed and head straight for the shower. I’m not dirty, but I need to stand under cold water for a little while just to wake myself up some more. It doesn’t take long, and I dry off in a hurry. Before I left for work yesterday, I laid out some clothes to wear to the airport. As tired as I still am, I want to look my best. Winter is over and done with, and so I don’t have to dress as warm as I did before. I have opted to wear a pretty, strapless floral dress under a white button-up sweater. A pair of cute sandals completes the outfit.

 After applying some makeup and putting on some jewelry, I enter the kitchen. While I wait for the cab to arrive, I drink a mug of coffee and scarf down a bowl of cereal. I have just enough time to wash the dishes before my cab arrives. I grab the items I’ll need, shut off the lights, and lock the door. I exchange a few words with one of my neighbors, and then I’m down the stairs and in the cab.

 It seems like an eternity, but I arrive at the airport. It takes me a while to find the place where I’m supposed to meet Jake, but I finally track it down. Thanks to the traffic, I’m late. I anxiously scan the crowd for Jake, wondering if he grew tired of waiting for me and decided to take a cab with Simone. I turn my head to the left, and I finally spot him.

 Unfortunately, I can’t say that the crowd instantly parts and that we have a moment when we lock eyes across the room. No, it doesn’t work that way. Instead, I have to work my way through a crowd of noisy travelers in a hurry. “Oof! ‘Scuse me. Pardon me. Ow! That’s my foot! Hey! Watch it, pal! Thanks for nearly running me over, jackass! Watch where you’re going!” I say as I’m jostled about by one person after the next.

 Frazzled and a little disheveled, I reach a spot that isn’t so crowded. Now, I have to scan the area again. Well, great! Where is he this time? I put my hands on my hips and let out a frustrated breath, frowning. This is just ridiculous! Serves me right for expecting a reunion like the ones you see in the movies. You know, where the man and the woman are searching for each other in a crowded airport and then BAM! They have that moment when they see each other and time seems to slow down, just before they rush toward each other and share a romantic embrace. Nooo! I had to have the moment when I wonder if I’m going to be squished to death by a crowd of cranky travelers, only to lose sight of the man I love.

 I run a hand through my hair and try to calm my rattled nerves. And then I hear it: a familiar voice, low and husky, saying “Morning, beautiful.”

 Startled, I turn around and find myself staring up at my love. There he is, standing right in front of me. Some stubble decorates his face and there are bags under his eyes, but he’s still as handsome as ever. The backpack that I loaned him is hanging off of one shoulder, and he’s giving me that smirk of his. I let out a happy squeal and practically throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around him as I relish the very real feeling of his body pressed against mine.

 “You’re here!” I say, my cheek pressed against the soft material of his hoodie.

 I can feel the vibration of his chuckle as he wraps his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “It’s good to see you, too.”

 I step back to look at him, beaming as he strokes my cheek with the pad of his thumb. He brings that hand up to the back of my neck, keeping the other hand on the small of my back as he draws me in for one of those kisses that leaves me weak in the knees.

 Okay. So we didn’t have that cheesy, rom-com movie reunion where I ran to him and jumped into his arms. But this reunion? This one is perfect.

@anastacia-lynn

@mypsychoticlove

[merchantofwhispers]

mischieftomake​:

Loki’s attention sharpened as Gemina took her drink from the waiter, tracking her movements with great interest. It was a level of attention he likely should have been paying anyway, knowing what he did about what she was capable of (and considering the amount he was sure he didn’t know she was capable of) but in his inebriated state, caution had slipped down his list of priorities somewhat.

There was nothing particularly interesting about the way Gemina raised the cup to her lips, even knowing what it was that left the momentary red stain on her lips, but Loki stared nonetheless, taking in every small movement. It was no great spectacle, but it was still undeniably interesting.

He took another sip of his own drink and allowed his gaze to drop to the amber liquid in his glass as he considered her question. He didn’t feel particularly inclined towards telling the truth- not that he ever did- particularly as the answer to her question was that he’d had no idea what exactly he’d expected to find in that crypt. Months of research had gained him little more than the knowledge that something extremely powerful was sealed down in those depths, and making his own way down there had been the only way to both satisfy his curiosity and claim that unspecified power for himself.

That the source of that power was both sentient and aggressive had been an unfortunate setback.

“You aren’t wrong in that assumption. Loose ends aside, as much as I would like to delegate the dirtier aspects of my work, I would far rather do things myself and see them done properly, even if I do find myself crawling through dirt far more often than I would like.” He frowned, brushing a little imaginary dust from his jacket as he spoke. “It hardly matters now what I thought I would find. Evidently, I did not find it. But given that I did find you, and subsequently this party and all the contacts you’ve helped me to make tonight, I think I would still term the expedition a success.”

He shot her a smug smile over the rim of his glass, and gestured vaguely to Gemina’s drink with his free hand.

“Do you drink that cold? Or do you have it warmed?”

Sneering at her glass in response to his little brag, she didn’t return his attention. Instead she continued to watch the crowd, his motions barely visible from the edge of her vision. “This is cold, unfortunately.” Gemina admitted while giving the glass a little swirl. “I prefer it warm and from the source, but this isn’t that type of party.” With a sharp inhale, she reached forward to rest the glass on the table just off to the side of her. “I will give you a steady warning, my dear Loki.” Her tone shifted then, lighter and showing much more of her exhaustion than before. “I imagine you can handle your own, but tread carefully amongst the people you’ve met here tonight. Even if not only for your sake. They’re an easily spooked bunch.” 

Finally, she shifted in her seat to turn and look at him. The deep-set frown of her expression was natural to sit there, a resting expression gained from years in her particular line of business. “I hardly know why someone like you would be interested in such a group beyond academics, but if that’s truly all you’re looking for then you’d be better off researching the more common of our types. The people in this room have a bloodlust that extends farther than their natural hunger and you, my sweet little magic man, smell far more delectable than you realize.” 

As she was talking someone had come up behind her, their shadow casting over her from the lights that moved above them. He was an older gentleman, his arms crossed over with that familiar black glass resting in in one of his hands. “I was worried when I didn’t see you mingling,” he said with a short smirk as he leaned down to her shoulder, “but I see you’ve found yourself company.” He grinned over at Loki, all the while Gemina’s expression seemed to soften into a barely-there smile. “Hello, Francis.” She said softly while turning her head slightly to catch his gaze. “You’re late.”

“Always.” He stood upright and moved to stand in front of the two of them, but it was clear he was more interested in the strange man accompanying his friend. “My, you’re a handsome young man.” He teased. “Careful with her, son, she’s mean if she gets hungry.” Sighing, Gemina rolled her eyes. Almost immediately the dynamic between the two was like a disgruntled child with their father. “Loki, meet Francis. Francis, Loki. He’s a-.. Business associate.”

[evelxtus]

Sorry if I didn’t do this correctly but characters: scara, childe(separately) basically reader is very quiet at first, like the first day or minutes they might think reader is mute or something, the reader is an introvert, maybe a little shy, and hates socializing with people they don’t know. But the more they spend time the more they socialize(can be spend time for work or anything) and after like a month the reader talks a lot. reader is the new 12fatui, gn, and end up being their s/o.

— ❛ Fᴀᴛᴜɪ·s ɴᴇᴡ ғᴀᴄᴇ !

pairing. . . scaramouche, childe x gn!fatui! reader.

warnings. . . use of gn reader, no pronouns mentioned, not proofread, scara's a meanie at first, insulting (scumbag), mention of violence (training fight), wounds, passing out.

a/n. . . hope you like it! now I wanna join the fatui 😭 but diluc would hate me-

⩩ SCARAMOUCHE.

You were going with the worst possible expectations, so despite being one of the most powerful fatuis, they didn't treat you as such. You were even the target of the taunts of Scaramouche, who would come to meet you to satisfy his curiosity about the new member or to see if you could be of any use, and he always left empty-handed and all his energy wasted in humiliating you in front of the the rest.

“You've been here two weeks and I still haven't heard your voice. Are you ashamed of how it sounds or were you just born without the ability to speak, hm?” Scaramouche comments, sitting to one side next to you, watching you deal with some unimportant papers.

You decided to ignore him, bad decision.

“I'm talking to you, scumbag. Just because you are one of us doesn't mean that I treat you as such, do you understand?” He spits out grabbing a handful of your clothes by the side of your throat, forcing you to face him.

It's okay that you were an introvert, even a little shy, but when someone crossed the line, you couldn't just cross your arms.

“I'll talk if I think it's necessary, 'Balladeer'” you replied, giving him a head butt that managed to free you from his grasp after hearing a groan of pain. “Now leave me alone.”

“Now I can imagine why you are between our lines. I guess it's fine. We will see each other again.”

And so weeks and months went by, and just as he promised, every now and then you would find Scaramouche in front of you. From thinking that you are completely useless, to trying to push your limits and finally getting you to snap, this is how he managed to show everybody your full potential.

This way, everyone began to respect you more, even Scaramouche himself. And it is that every day you interested him more, and it was already a matter of needs to meet you, in addition, you talked much more with him than the rest.

“We're planning a new mission.” Scaramouche commented sitting next to you, looking at you as usual as you focused on your own business. “And we will go in groups.”

All your attention left the papers to focus on your comrade. Your heart sank to hear that it would be in groups, because you hated having to socialize with other fatuis that wasn't him. “So? Who am I going with?”

“They decided to put you in Childe's group.” he answered bluntly. You sighed, in your mind getting the idea that you should put up with new conversations from people you haven't talked to yet. Scaramouche saw your worried face and hummed. “I haven't finished speaking. Quit that face.”

You stared at him expecting him to continue speaking, and the seconds passed slowly for you, while he enjoyed every moment of your uncertainty. Finally he stopped punishing you. “I managed to change the groups. You will go with me.”

Your eyes lit up, and you wanted to hug him, but you know how to contain yourself well. You were confused as hell tho. “Thanks... but why... would you bother?”

“You didn't think I was going to leave you alone with that idiot, did you?” A dark smirk appeared on his face as he stood up. “Come on, we must prepare.” he ends, patting you on the head before leaving.

And so, with little details like this, you spent more time together and enjoyable in each other's company. It was unbelievable how well you got along now for how bad you started, but you managed to pleasantly surprise Scaramouche everytime.

After time, Scara became a little more touchy, from time to time he would grab you by the arm so that you wouldn't deviate from his side, others would take you by the hand directly without meaning. He just wanted to feel that you were next to him, and that was a good gesture to check that you hadn't gone anywhere without him.

He wanted you by his side, and he truly loved you, no matter how hard it was to admit it.

⩩ CHILDE.

Unlike Scaramouche, Childe was the first to approach you to introduce himself and welcome you, although he did it in such a... cheerful and lively way that you couldn't help but think that he was doing it forcibly or with some kind of secret motive. Therefore, the only thing you did was a little nod.

“Oh well. Don't worry, you'll get used to being here pretty quickly, or so I hope. If you need a good opponent to practice, come to me. Well that's all, I'm looking foward to seeing your true power...”

And for various reasons, you ended up in front of him to challenge him to a training fight, which lit up his face with a big, challenging smile.

“I knew you would come. Get ready then! And don't hold back.”

When you finished, you ended up losing, but he didn't look good either. He was panting heavily, lying on the ground without energy, and you next to him, half unconscious. He might get carried away a little bit, but you definitely gave him a great show and a good time that he won't forget. Despite his wounds and pain, he stood up to heal your wounds.

“Feeling better? Sorry, I didn't know when to stop...” he said, putting behind your ears some locks of your hair. You looked up weakly to meet his eyes.

“Thank you... Next time... I'll win.” you coughed closing your eyes again, letting yourself be carried away by exhaustion. Childe smiled slightly.

“I could learn a thing or two from you. I really wish there was a next time, but now... let me take care of you.”

Time passed, and the training sessions between you became part of your routine, and of course the moment of rest after the fight became more and more... affectionate between you two.

Once, you managed to win the fight. Childe's bruised body fell to the ground, and you rushed to his side and knelt to check on him. “Childe. Hey, Childe.”

There was no reaction. With concern you began to shake him, putting his head on your lap as you kept moving him in search of answers from him.

“Oh no. Childe, please say something.” you put your hand over his mouth seeing if he breathed. With worry eating you whole, you reacted as the situation required. Placing his lips on the boy's to begin rescue breathing, you suddenly noticed his hand on your hair, moving his lips against yours gently.

Wait, what?

You get away with a big blush on your cheeks and anger boiling your blood. “Childe, what the hell are you doing? I thought you were dead.”

He chuckled, putting a hand on his chest. “I think I passed out for a few seconds... Your rescue breathing was so bad that when I woke up I thought you were kissing me... I'm sorry...”

“And why would you kiss me back?”

“What if... we treat our wounds a bit first...?” completely ignoring your question he tried to get up, only to fall again. It was true, there were priorities now, and it was for him to recover quickly. Although confusion still haunted your mind, and he noticed. “I think I'm happy I lost the fight, but... kiss me for real next time.”

You didn't know if he was joking or not but, oh, you wanted to repeat it.

[kaijime]

lights down low

pt. 2

includes. kuroo tetsurou, bokuto koutarou, tendou satori, sugawara koushi, tsukishima kei, tanaka ryunosuke, oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi, nishinoya yuu.

cw. fem reader, phone sex, masturbation, fingering, toys (vibrator, dildo), slight dom, squirting

a/n. Ok I’m really really sorry about this, I had an ask in my inbox and I think I accidentally deleted it or something, I don’t know what happened. its just not there but I’m gonna answer it anyways.Basically the ask was about making a fic out of this video, go watch it for a little bit of context (it is a little nsfw, you have been warned)

After that disastrous prank from the boys, you were left hot and needy. You gather your things from the couch, where previously there was a calm ambient of doing homework, now it was just an uncomfortable place because you were sweating buckets. On the way to your bed you left your notebooks and pencils on the desk and lay down on the bed. 

Looking back at those pictures, your imagination was left to run. What could those jim shorts be hiding? The thoughts of them around you, making you feel good in all the ways possible, made your mind wander-- and your hand too.

Sneaking a hand into your cute lacy panties, you imagine its someone else’s hand, any other hand but yours. Your finger touches your clit, rubbing small, light circles around it in a teasing motion.

“H-hah- I...” your hand quickly covers your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself. You take off the damp fabric from your heat, lifting your legs to slide it off and throw it into some unknown corner of the room. The room grows hot, as well as your insides, it know has a lust-like vibe. Your body sits straight taking off your shirt and bra, massaging your breast with your left hand while rubbing yourself with the other one.

A few minutes of this made you bored, reaching for the bottom drawer of your bedside table where you hid all the good things. Your breath hitched at the sigh of the familiar toys, the blue dildo and the small bullet vibrator. Taking your previous place on the bed you turn on the small vibrator on the lightest setting and rub it over your nipples, teasing them and leaving breathy moans to slip out of your mouth.

The feeling of the vibrating bullet on your sensitive nub made you go crazy, thinking about how good it would feel to have one of those sexy boys tease them while filling all of your holes. You dragged it through your entire body, from your upper stomach to where you needed it the most.

You were lost in the pleasure, very lost in the pleasure. Still, you could never be lost enough to ignore the ringing of your phone. Your body jumped involuntarily at the scare, scrambling to find the source of the annoying sound that interrupted your session. That’s when you saw it.

Video call from the group chat.

Not just any group chat, the one with all the men you were just fantasizing about. Fuck. There’s no way you couldn’t join, they would think something is wrong with you, when really you’re just trying to get off. You throw on the shirt you had previously discarded.

“Hey hey hey! (Y/n)~ How are you feeling?~” Bokuto’s teasing, sing-song voice welcomed you into the call after you hit the green button on the screen. Even if the group chat was a big one, a few of them weren’t in the call. The ones who usually went to bed early were gone, so that means Kageyama, Akaashi and Asahi were not in the group call. Memories of the prank made you gush, your slick dripping onto your ass and eventually to the sheets, since you didn’t have enough time to throw on some panties, but that’s fine. It’s not like you’re gonna show them anything.

“I’m feeling good y’know, after being harassed with such lewd pictures I’m feeling just peachy!” the sarcastic tone really evident in your voice. A few of them laughed, some remained silent. You didn’t care, you  just wanted the call to be over so you could resume your previous actions. Then Kuroo spoke.

“Yeah here’s the thing (Y/n), if you weren’t reading the chat” which of course you were not, you were too busy trying to relieve the heat these boys had caused you. “We were actually gonna ask you if you could maybe send us something like that?”

“Wh-what?”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but if you did we would never send those pictures to anyone else” The thought of them, wanting to see you in a picture as provocative as theirs made you blush. Your face turned red at the thought, it all felt too good to be true...like a prank.

“Alright... very funny, yeah right” but the boys could not understand what you were saying, they genuinely meant what they said, so they were taken aback that you wouldn’t believe them. Then Tsukishima chipped in on the awkward silence.

“Does it look like were ki-”

“What’s that?” you heard Tendou question. That’s when you looked to your right and saw the dildo, in all its glory, completely visible to the camera. All this time you’ve been talking while all the boys could see the toy you used- or were planning on using.

You quickly cover it with your sheets and cover your own face with your other hand to hide your growing blush and the tears on the corner of your eyes, for one more embarrassing moment with these boys and you would snap.

“How lewd (Y/n)” Nishinoya spoke, his teasing tone not helping you at all.

“Hey come on guys, stop it” said Sugawara. And then there was an awkward silence once more, honestly, it would’ve been better to be endlessly teased than to be in the thoughts of everyone. You could tell they were all silently judging you by the way they stared at the camera. That’s when you broke down, not full on sobbing, just a few tears that trickled down your cheeks.

“Whoa, hey-- sweetie, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing its jut that I feel so bad, I was about to touch myself thinking about all those pictures you guys sent me a-”

“Wha- wait a second, you were going to touch yourself thinking about our pictures?” Tanaka asked, though you couldn’t tell if he was going to be judgy about it or if he genuinely had curiosity. “As in... put that thing inside yourself thinking about us?”

The nod of your head makes the whole group crazy. Just thinking about you, shoving that toy into your heat with your thoughts fixated on them, that made most of them hard, except for Ushi. He simply cleared his throat and said:

“Can you show us?”

“WHAT?!”

“If you feel uncomfortable doing it then don’t but I think everyone here is hard and we could all use the relief, including you soo...”. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. These men, some of them older than you, even, wanted to see you masturbate.

“Are you sure this isn’t a prank?”

“It’s not a prank (Y/n), we all want to see the same thing so if you feel like doing it, whenever you’re ready would be a good place to start” added Oikawa. You swallowed the saliva that had gathered up on your mouth, by this time, the sheets beneath you were soaked in your essence. Someone looking at this from an outside point of view might have described it as peer pressure, but when you set the camera on the end of your bed and spread your legs to show them how hot and bothered they had made your cute little cunny, well, you didn’t feel pressured at all. In fact it all felt so normal, as if this was something normal friends did.

“Oh my god” “Soo hot” “Spread them wide baby” and other praises could be heard from the phone. All the different voices worshiping you and ordering you around made you feel somewhat safe, like you had lost a bit of your control, but you had given it to the right people.

It should be noted that at this time everyone was hard, including Ushijima. You took off your shirt again and a few cheers from Tanaka and Nishinoya were heard. You then did what you would normally do in a horny night, except of course, with the exception that there was a phone with nine friends in front of you. 

“Touch yourself for daddy”

“Uh-huh, I’ll be a good girl for you daddy” pushing your fingers into your hole. “Your cocks are all so pretty” moaning at the sight of they’re long members on the camera, as they used their hands to relieve the hardness.

“You’re being so good for us sugar, put in another finger” Sugawara’s orders made you clench around your small finger, reminding you that it wouldn’t  be enough to satisfy you. A loud moan slips past your lips as you enter another finger into your wet heat. “Good girl, now put the vibrator to your clit, darling”

Doing as you’re told you moan at the sight of all of them jerking off to your sweating figure. Tanaka and Kuroo were in the same position as you were, sitting on your bed with their legs spread to get better access to their cocks, Ushijima, Bokuto and Tsukishima appeared to have their cameras right in front of their dicks, just so that you could get a good close look on how their hands were working on themselves. The rest of them were in different positions that you couldn’t make out because you drifted your gaze to the ceiling, searching for something to help you, to save you from the immense pleasure you were having. 

The little bullet making you shiver in ecstasy. The way your fingers couldn’t reach that special spot inside yourself made you feel sexually frustrated, but you kept fingering yourself, for the sake of all the hot men who were panting and moaning like crazy in front of you. Even if you couldn’t do exactly what you wanted to, you were feeling very good, and you were so close to your orgasm.

“Pull out your fingers and put in the toy” Nishinoya ordered. For a small boy he had some big balls, (metaphorically)

“But daddy! I-I’m sooo close...daddyyyyy”  And you came, your sweet juices seeping out of you as you rubbed yourself with your fingers to gather a bit of your slick. You take that same hand to your mouth, licking all the creamy substance off.

“Ugh, baby” and they moaned out lots of different nicknames, all of them making you clench around the emptiness in your hole. You grab the dildo once again from under the sheets and tease yourself with the tip at your entrance looking into the camera to give the group a good show. Keeping your eyes fixated on the camera you shove the toy into your abused hole. When you feel it reach your pelvis. 

“Daddy, y-...y-you’re so deep inside me-... h-hah” the pace you set is slow, as you realize, too slow, even for you. “Its so big d-daddy!”

“Shut up and take it like a good slut” Tsukishima exclaims, which makes you go harder and deeper into your cunt. You lift your head from where it was buried in the pillows and look at your pussy, the way its taking the big toy makes you clench around it, making it harder to pull it out and push it inside.

“(Y/n)- p-please keep going, I-I’m gonna cum” 

“I-I’m not-... I can’t-t stop” you say pushing the toy further inside and hitting your g-spot. The volume of your moans increases with each hit to that special spot inside you. “I’m go-...a-ah-ah! Daddy I’m cumming” 

“Cum, make a mess l-like the good girl you are d-darling” Suga said in between all his moans. Your insides threw out the blue toy and started spraying your clear essence. You take a hand to your clit to make it last longer. Gushing all over the place, on the bed sheets and even on the phone, which of course only brought the men closer to their climaxes as well. By the time you were finished and taking in what just happened, all of them had released and were just panting in the afterglow of their orgasms.

“Wow” “That was so hot” and other commentaries where made by them.

“We should do this more often”

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[chaozsilhouette]

Turbulent Beginnings

This forms the opening act to Macaque’s story, showing just how different his and Wukong’s early lives were and why he took Wukong’s disappearance so hard.

The idea Macaque was born from the wind was inspired by @animemoonprincess. And yes, I am a shameless fan of Macaque originally having white fur. The angst is just too perfect.

Brace yourselves, this isn’t going to be pretty. I am essentially shoving our boy through an emotional meat grinder.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On a remote island, a day’s travel from China’s eastern shore, a massive hurricane raged as it had since the beginning of this world. The surrounding storms fed into it as its winds carved stone. No life had dared blossom on its soil out of fear of a painful demise. The merciless storm drank deeply of the waters of the sea, draining all aspects of potential and life before casting it aside. Not even curious spirits were spared.

Various deities had wondered why such a storm existed or why the Jade Emperor allowed such a dangerous presence to continue unchecked. Most believed that since the hurricane was stationary and prove no threat to the established order of the world, it was not important.

One day the hurricane vanished. As though it had never existed. Or rather that it had been transformed into something else.

It was the night of a new moon and with the hurricane gone, the island experienced its first cloudless sky. The only one to witness the momentous occasion was a monkie with pure white fur and six ears. Minding his manners, the nameless monkie bowed to the four winds in greeting.

The newborn proceeded to spend his days searching the island for something. Some clue as to the reason behind his birth. He could hear strange voices and words he didn’t understand yet at the same time could. He knew he wasn’t the only creature alive, so why was he alone?

For food, he walked his way through a cave system towards the sea, where he enjoyed the fish that were drawn in through the whirlpools and the mussels that clung to the sharp rocks. He grew to savor the taste of life, even though there was a part of him that craved something different.

Almost forty years passed before he mustered the courage to leave everything he knew to seek out those voices. He gathered all the driftwood and rope that had drifted onshore over the decades, fashioned it into a makeshift raft, and sailed towards the closest source of voices.

His voyage was actually pretty boring once he cleared the whirlpools.

The only exciting part about it was when that strange fish tried to sink his raft. It was bigger than any fish he’d previously seen with a mouth to match. Didn’t mean it survived past the first blow. Taking a bite Macaque wasn’t sure if he liked this fish. The muscles were tough and the flesh was rough on his tongue. He didn’t particularly like the taste. But there was enough to feed him for a full day.

In the end, he chose to eat a third of the fish’s muscles along with its heart before tossing back into the water.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Docking on dry land was an experience that would haunt him for years.

At first, he was filled with wonder at the sight of buildings and new creatures riding rafts far bigger than his.

When he stepped onto shore the whispers began.

The creatures, who he later learned were called humans, were pointing out his ears. They acknowledged his obvious intelligence. He heard them grip wooden instruments tightly. It was as if they expected him to do something.

No one made a move against him. No one approached him, but he could tell he wasn’t wanted. Everywhere he turned he saw eyes that cursed his every existence.

He didn’t stay in that village for long. In his mind, satisfying his curiosity wasn’t worth being stared at as though he was the source of all evil.

Demon.

That is what they called him. Was that what he was?

He didn’t know, but he didn’t like it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He aimlessly wandered the countryside for far too long.

The first act of kindness he received was from a couple who could not have children of their own. He stumbled upon them by accident, but instead of the normal fearful expressions he’d come to expect they greeted him with genuine smiles and an offer to join them for dinner.

They took him in and treated him like family. He became the son they always wanted. They taught him how to properly speak and how to walk comfortably on two limbs. They blessed him with a name.

They were kind and nurturing. In another world, they may have been called bodhisattvas. But sadly, due to them being ordinary mortals, his time with them only lasted four decades.

He buried them with love but grew resentful of his weak emotions.

He learned what it was like to have someone welcome him home after a long day. He learned to savor the taste of a mother’s home-cooked meal. He enjoyed having a father figure who was willing to teach him old military tactics. He experienced friendly competitions to see who could paint the most accurate portrait of a flower they saw earlier that day. It was everything he never knew he craved and then it was gone. Leaving him with an empty home and a broken heart.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Nearly fifty years later he joined a band of traveling performers.

Their natural oddities allowed them to see who he really was and welcome him into their party. With their compassion, he was granted the opportunity to heal. He learned that despite the group’s large size, very few of them had any direct blood relations. What made them special was how they created their own family and turned what many called strange into something beautiful. Out of respect, he delved into the world of entertainment, found he had a natural talent for it.

When he took the stage people assumed he was in costume, but that didn’t matter. The applause of the audience was a gift he cherished. The sheer passion this family expressed through every second in life warmed his heart beyond words. They were just what he needed to bring him out of his depression.

Alas, it was not meant to stay.

One night their camp was ambushed by a group of demons. They were nothing special, hardly worth mentioning. But for him, back then, it was a fight he never imagined. He could easily handle human bandits, so could his family, but never had he traded blows with a small army of his fellow demons. With the rising of the sun, Macaque stared at the cruelly bright sky covered in blood. All around him bodies lay scattered, life essence soaking into the ground. Despite being tasked with fighting off nearly five dozen demonic opponents he managed to survive with barely a scratch, but he was alone. Again.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tried to change things by sticking to his fellow demons. At least they lived longer.

Somehow that ended up with him becoming the apprentice to a demon healer for almost a century. She was a cold-hearted bitch with a heart of gold. Meticulous in her work, masterful in deduction, and short-tempered with the foolish. She gave everything to her practice and expected the same from him. It was bitter work, but he found it fulfilling. The knowledge that he now possessed the ability to restore others to peak condition settled some unknown part of his soul.

Of course, they would have visitors who wished to take advantage of her skills or steal the medicine. Between the two of them, they protected their clinic, but they weren’t always together. While she may try to hide it, she wasn’t the strongest demon out there. Apparently, the entire reason she got into medicine was to uncover why she was so weak. Centuries of research turned up nothing, but it did make her incredibly skilled at using poisons with her knives to compensate.

One day after he returned from gathering ingredients, he pulled back the door to find the shop in disarray, five unknown bodies slowly dying of extensive blood poisoning, and his master bleeding out from her severed arms. She always said she had no intention of entering Naraka alone.

Guess she kept her word.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The cycle repeated itself over centuries. He would experience a brief window of happiness only for it to be savagely stolen from him, leaving him to mourn and curse his weak heart.

The small glimmers of kindness humanity showed him only made him curse their race even harder when he couldn’t walk into a village without being harassed. The humans who had proven stronger were sadly a rare breed. He was rare to encounter one a century and often they perished at the hands of their kind rather than by demons.

There were times when the ignorance had gotten so bad he’d taken to traveling with a constant glamour, disguising himself as an average human. Whenever he was in the presence of other demons, he allowed his true form to manifest, however, he made it look like he only had a single pair of ears. Standing out was the easiest way to wind up in a complicated situation he had no interest in trying to defuse.

That’s not to say his time was wasted.

Quite the contrary, he had learned much during his travels. He could hardly be compared to the happy young monkie, who was ignorant of the dangers and hardships this world held. In a sad attempt to fill the void, Macaque sought out wisdom and strength. He located masters of both the mystic and martial arts. He may have had to lie about his age, he was becoming quite the accomplished liar, but the results were more than worth it. With every stop, he found himself growing more certain of his strength and his identity.

Eventually, he discovered a strange monastery hidden in a cave in the face of a mountain.

He had never seen anything like it during his travels. But what truly drew his attention was the feeling the temple exuded, every stone exuded a strange aurora. Something powerful dwelled within, powerful yet there was an undeniably human quality to it all.

Hiding beneath his usual glamor, Macaque approached the temple with the desire to discover exactly what was being taught. Before he knew what was happening, he was speaking to the immortal sage who was running the joint. Master Subhuti welcomed him to his home and offered some tea. The disguised monkie was bombarded by dozens of questions, all of which he attempted to answer as though he was a normal human.

The master welcomed him as his newest disciple and showed him his new home. Later he learned the master could see through his disguise and sensed his potential. Apparently, the old immortal believed that the monkie would do well to learn his disciplines and he was fascinated by the monkie’s natural talent.Said something about how with proper guidance only the Buddha would be able to peer past his façade.

The monkie even received a new name to celebrate his rebirth. From that day forward he was Liu’Er Mihou, or the Six-Eared Macaque. He liked it. While he cherished the name his first family gifted him, he felt this was a good sign. A tribute to show that he was a changed monkie.

Regardless, he refused to drop his glamor. He had seen too many demons be cast out and attacked for getting sloppy. The other students were not thrilled about the newcomer showing them up and he wasn’t willing to give them a true reason to despise him. He learned quickly, more so than any other human disciple, but that put him at odds with those who were still struggling after years of training.

Macaque distanced himself from the others. They weren’t that interesting anyway. He didn’t care that they talked about him behind his back or were fully aware he could hear them. He couldn’t risk getting close so soon. He was determined to break the cycle. He didn’t care about immortality. He didn’t care about obtaining power. All he wanted was to end the pain. So far things had been working out in his favor.

Then heshowed up…

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

That trice damned monkie with peach-colored fur and markings like a golden mask. He was so naïve about the world. He treated everything as though it was some exciting game. His upbeat energy made Macaque sick. Some twisted part of him wanted to snap his neck just to end it, but a small part was fascinated by it. The other monkie reminded him of a time he had almost forgotten.

The Monkey King, or Sun Wukong, didn’t bother hiding his true appearance. Truthfully, Macaque wasn’t sure he knew how or that he should. He didn’t seem to notice how other students would keep their distance or how they kept their conversations as brief as possible without crossing the threshold into being considered rude.

He was so earnest and happy, it was painful. The new monkie pestered everyone about everything, it was like dealing with a newborn, but it seemed Macaque was his favorite to bother. The worst part was how he stared at Macaque as though he could peer past his glamour. Although Macaque wasn’t sure if that was truly possible. The Master could, but he dedicated centuries to refine his skills. Wait. How old was this annoyance? Perhaps he could smell he wasn’t like the other disciples.

Either way, he knew it was just a matter of time until the truth got out. He just didn’t expect it to be when he was changing.

Each student was offered a meager room for privacy. They were all the same size and offered little to no space for any customization, but the walls were enchanted to cut out sound whenever the doors were closed.

Behind those flimsy walls was the only time Macaque allowed his glamor to drop. While he valued being cautious, even he couldn’t keep up the glamour indefinitely, much less when he was asleep.

It was in that small space of safety that he discovered he wasn’t alone.

He had just allowed himself to relax when a smiling face covered in peach fuzz was shoved into his own.

“I knew it! You’re like me.” Sun Wukong happily exclaimed, stars practically dancing in his eyes.

“Shut up.” Macaque clamped his hand over the other’s mouth. Checking to ensure no one else was present and the door was shut, he faced the intruder. “Have you told anyone?” He hissed, while berating himself for failing to check the ceiling. You always look up when scanning a room, he knew that.

“Nope. Why are you hiding? You’re beautiful.” The cheerful demon spoke as though they were old friends. His golden eyes took in every hair of his fellow monkie’s true appearance.

“I’m a demon. And there is nothing beautiful about me.” Macaque growled.

“Yes, there is.” Wukong insisted. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you hiding? The Master let me in, I wager he knows about you, so why?”

Sighing, Macaque massaged the bridge of his nose. “I have been hurt enough times to know keeping a low profile is optimal in survival. It is better to keep one’s head down than risk getting called out.” From observation, he knew the newer student wouldn’t leave until he received answers, so the best option was to just give him what he wanted and pray he knew enough to leave.

“That’s no fun.” Wukong stuck his tongue out in distaste. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are. We were born this way.” He jumped high into the air only to catch himself on his tail with a cheeky grin. “So, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Cute speech. But my answer is no. Now leave.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that attitude right up.” Thankfully Wukong left, but not before sending a smile laced with mischief his way. “See you tomorrow.”

Macaque prayed to every deity that would be the end of it. But even he knew it was a futile attempt.

“Do you have a tribe?” Wukong asked, hanging by his tail from Macaque’s favorite tree.

A startled Macaque blinked at the random question. “A what?”

“A tribe. A family. A place to call home?” Wukong asked smoothly even if he wasn’t familiar with the term family until recently he knew it was important.

“Not anymore.” Glaring Macaque returned his focus to his meal.

“Aw.” Wukong knew that look. He had seen plenty of monkeys wear that arura after watching other tribe members die. “Then you should come with me!”

“What?”

“Yeah. You can join my tribe. There are dozens of us back home. Plenty of food and water, you’ll constantly be surrounded by others like us.”

“Other demons?”

“No.” Wukong smiled as though he told a funny joke. “Other monkeys.”

“There is no reason for me to join you.” Macaque stated, wishing he could finish his lunch in peace.

But Wukong wasn’t letting him go that easily. “And there’s no reason for you to refuse.” He stated, ignoring any and all social cues or common sense for respecting personal space.

It went on like that for years. Every day Macaque would awake to find gold eyes staring at him, waiting for his answer to change. Breaks were spent dodging the hyperactive monkie as he tried to eat alone. Training sessions soon found him sparring with the same partner.

The monkie was stubborn no doubt and Macaque feared his actions were slowly breaking down his walls. The pale furred monkie missed having a connection. He adored being able to talk to others, but whenever he opened up he only got hurt.

But maybe, maybe this time could be different…

Wukong was training to obtain immortality. He had already proven to be stronger and more clever than anyone he’d known. The simian showed that he wanted to know him better. He constantly tried to touch his fur, something he called grooming, which felt pretty nice.

Maybe…maybe this time he could truly have a home.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

A streak of light accompanied by a sharp whistle pierced the night sky. For a brief moment, it vanished before exploding in a beautiful display of color and light.

On the monastery’s rooftop, Wukong backflipped in joy at the sight, his golden eyes wide. “Happy New Year!” The monkie cried. In the village below, he could make out dozens of voices echoing the greeting.

It didn’t matter how many times he saw them, fireworks were a sight he always adored. “This has got to be mankind’s greatest invention!” The flowers of fire were simply too beautiful. So unique. Nothing on Flower Fruit Mountain compared to such beauty, it made him thankful he decided to leave.

From the corner of his eye, Wukong noticed that his companion was clutched his ears wincing with every detonation. “You okay, bud?”

“I’m fine. Just loud.” Macaque said. He was truly questioning his sanity by joining Wukong on the roof. Normally he barricaded himself in his room, but his friend was so thrilled about sharing their first New Year together he couldn’t say no.

“Oh.” Somehow the new set of fireworks didn’t look that attractive. “We can go inside if you want.” They were beautiful, but nothing was worth feeling helpless as his friend curled up in pain.

“I’ll be fine. I’m adjusting to the volume. No different than punches that break the sound barrier, right?” Macaque tried flashing a confident grin to varying success.

Wukong suspected that Macaque was lying, but learned enough to know further prying would just cause the other monkie to simply shut out the world. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“You made a persuasive argument.” Anyone who could harass him for nearly five years straight proved their determination.

Wukong playfully stuck his tongue out. “Hehe…Seriously though, I’m happy you chose to be part of my tribe. No one should be alone.”

“Then why have I been for so long.”

“I doubt even Master knows. But you won’t be able to say that anymore.” Wukong wrapped his arms around his best friend. Pulling him close, Wukong faced the fireworks, unconsciously grooming Macaque as he savored every pop of color.

Beneath those gentle digits, Macaque steadied himself against the soothing heartbeat of the one he slowly learned to trust. As the display continued, the pale monkie learned to appreciate the human’s creations. Turns out they weren’t so bad so long as you have the right company.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

“I’m sorry. You’re what?!” Macaque’s response was perfectly justified. There was no way he just heard what he thought he heard.

Wukong flashed a blinding grin. “I’m heading to the Celestial realm. I’ve been given a position in Celestial Bureaucracy.” Not seeing any problems whatsoever.

“Why?” Just why? From everything he heard about those stuck-up deities, they would never hand over a position to anyone without requiring the completion of an impossible task, much less to a demon. Least of all a demon who has done nothing but terrorize others and unleash chaos whenever he went.

“Don’t know. But I got to go right now.” Wukong shrugged as he finished packing. The Gold Star of Venus was waiting just outside the waterfall.

“But what about Flower Fruit Mountain? What about your subjects? What am I supposed to do? How long are you going to be gone?” Macaque fired off a rapid stream of questions. Panic was beginning to take hold.

Wukong, however, was as calm and confident as ever. “Stop worrying so much. Look I’ll be back as soon as I can. Until then you’re in charge.” He finished as though it was obvious.

“Me!” A white tail nearly burst into twice its normal size in shock. “But I have no idea how to run a Court!”

“Neither do I. Not in the traditional sense at least. Look just keep an eye on things. Protect the monkeys from hunters and malicious demons. Sometimes one of the allied demon kings will ask for some help. It’s nothing you haven’t helped me with before. I’ll be back before you know it. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle things until I get back.”

Seeing his companion and good friend growing even more lost, Wukong closed the distance and took his face in both hands. “This is a good thing. If I can make this work, none of us will ever have to worry about being hunted or not having enough food ever again.”

In a snap, Macaque grabbed the king’s arms. “What if I don’t care about any of that? What if I just want you to stay?”

For the first time in their conversation, Wukong’s cocky attitude vanished replaced with a loving smile. Gently prying Macaque’s claws off his shirt, Wukong placed his cheek on a palm as he kissed the knuckles of another. “I can’t. This is too good an opportunity to pass up. This isn’t goodbye. I’ll keep in touch. The time will fly. We’ll make this work. Trust me.”

“Alright, Wukong. I trust you.” Macaque said, ignoring every fiber of his being that screamed this would end poorly.

“If things go wrong, remember I’m just a telepathic call away.” Summoning his cloud, Wukong back flipped onto it with his bag. “Monkey King, out!”

One sonic boom later and he was gone, along with a good chunk of the cave walls.

“Hpmh. That’s my idiot.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

How did this happen? How did this happen?!

One moment they were fighting for their lives against the army of the Celestial Realm and the next Macaque bore witness to Wukong being carted away in a diamond snare.

Now as he stared at the charred remains of what once was a growing village of monkeys, Macaque felt something within him change.

For almost two months he had burned in celestial fires. The sounds of the dead and dying rang out, making his namesake almost bleed. He choked on the ashes of the mortal monkeys. The air had a strangely sweet and bitter taste to it.

Macaque lost count of all the times he charged back into the fires to save as many heartbeats as he could. He wasn’t sure but he suspected he blacked out more than once. With every heartbeat that stilled before he could reach them, a part of him followed them into Yama’s realm.

Finally, the fires had died down. They didn’t have anything left to burn.

All around him he saw the pitiful leftovers of what was once a thriving community. He had treated the survivors the best he could, but he lost his medical equipment in the blaze. The only ones he didn’t have to worry about were the monkeys Wukong made immortal, but he did what he could to ease the pain.

But still, he wondered why…why were they staring at him as though they were confused?

Maybe he was overthinking everything. He just worked through 49 days without any sleep. Everything was stable for now. The best course of action was to wash off the ash and get some much-deserved rest.

There was nothing the Celestial Realm could do to Wukong that he couldn’t handle. Besides Macaque didn’t even know how to get there even if he was at full strength. Wukong couldn’t die so it was only a matter of time before someone tripped up allowing him to return home.

He just had to be patient.

Stepping into the clear river, Macaque’s jaw almost dropped as the water around him immediately turned gray. He didn’t realize he was that filthy.

He started scrubbing himself, ducking under the water to ensure he didn’t miss a spot. He had to move a few times due to the sheer amount of shoot and ash that clung to him. The entire cleaning process took a full hour before the water ran clear.

Stepping out, Macaque felt more refreshed than he ever remembered. Shaking to remove as much access water as possible, all the towels were soot so he had to make do, he paused by the waterside to see how much fur he lost. But what he saw met none of his expectations.

Instead of fur that invoked images of the moon, he was cloaked in the color of the darkest ink.

“What happened to me?”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Five hundred years.

Five hundred years he searched, for any trace of the legendary Five-Fingered Moutain Buddha used to trap Sun Wukong only to find nothing. Macaque scoured far and wide. Neither the winds nor the shadows could lead him towards his friend.

He picked fights with countless demons who claimed to witness the great Monkey King brought low. It barely took two punches before they broke down crying how it had been nothing but a lie, how they only repeated rumors.

He bargained for any information he could find, but all accounts claimed the mountain didn’t exist. Many refused to answer him on principle of not interfering with the Celestial Realm’s issues. Their last mistake. Others took Wukoong’s punishment as a sign to amass as much power as possible out of fear that they would be targeted next.

Macaque had witnessed the formation of more alliances and territory grabs in the past century than had been recorded in the last thousand years. Demons were becoming more power-hungry and suspicious, which meant even more trouble for the humans. Things were becoming so chaotic, Macaque had to wonder if it was planned.

But he couldn’t dwell on that.

He hadn’t visited Flower Fruit Moutain in years. His clones kept guard, but slowly he was losing the drive to keep replenishing them. The only reason he called that mountain home was because of Wukong. It wasn’t home without him.

But he had to keep looking. Had to keep trying. He would find his friend.

Somehow.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

He tricked himself into thinking this would be different. That he would no longer be alone. That finally he had found a family he could keep.

He was an idiot!

The truth was he was no different than anyone else. The world was Sun Wukong’s toy chest and Macaque was merely a shiny new trinket to bat around until he grew bored. Seeing him with that group, knowing that he chose them over their past, was too much.

He was sick of being left behind. He had been left alone so many times. What made him think he couldn’t be replaced?

He could have attacked, ripped their precious monk to pieces, he could have...should have...but he was tired.

Returning to Flower Fruit Mountain was a chore, but one he swore he would never complete again. The monkeys questioned his return, asking where their king was and if he’d return soon. Macaque ignored them all. He simply walked to the part of the manor he and Wukong had shared for years, where he had been waiting for his return.

Staring at all the knickknacks and souvenirs they had collected from their adventures, Macaque made up his mind. Grabbing a large sturdy bag, he swiftly packed his essentials. In another, he packed non-perishable goods and water containers.

Stepping out, a flash of something peach-colored caught his eye. Spinning around, hope burning a hole in his chest but his dreams once more were proved false. It was just the special peach tree Wukong had planted from the leftover pit he had saved from his time in the Celestial Realm. Apparently, it had reached maturity and was proudly bearing the first fruit Macaque had seen despite having been planted nearly half a millennia ago.

Macaque wasn’t sure why it was so special, Wukong just winked and said it was a surprise for when they could share a fresh one. Feeling something wet on his arm, Macaque looked down to see his hand stretched towards the tree and the memories he held. Feeling his cheeks, he realized he was crying, which was strange as he didn’t think he had any tears left.

Spurred by longing and spite, Macaque plucked six peaches from the tree and stuffed them into his bag. It wasn’t like Wukong was going to miss them. And he needed the food.

[dross-the-fish]

Hyde paced around the makeshift lab, wondering how Adam Frankenstein had assembled such a busy workshop without the aid of an assistant.  “Does Dr Watson know you have all this?” he asked, peering at an assortment of organs in flasks.

Adam shook his head, “He does not and I'd be grateful if you didn't reveal my secrets. I like Dr Watson and I know he won’t approve of my work,” he strode over to a large vat filled with liquid in the middle of the room, "If we bring Miss Morris back he may forgive me, if not I'll simply defy him. I accept no masters and though I owe him much he will not command me in this," he pulled a lever and sparks of electricity crackled down the wires connecting to the vat, charging the liquid. He waited a full minute, counting the seconds before he shut off the power.

Hyde nodded, he saw no reason to do Watson any favors or derail Frankenstein's projects so he found himself agreeable "Mum's the word, old chap, I don't see any reason why he should be in the loop,” He tapped the vat with his cane. "What's in here,"

"A compound of chemicals Victor used to submerge me in while he ran the current through my body. This, "Adam made a sweeping gesture over the vat, "Is the elixir that rejuvenates the dead cells and primes them for the electricity to do its work. it took me forever to figure out how to make it but thanks to Dr Watson granting me access to all of his medical tomes my methods may surpass even that of my maker’s," his even white teeth flashed sharply against the harshness of his black lips in a gruesome, self-satisfied grin. He imagined Victor would have been horrified to see his creation carrying on his work, but Adam had not time for guilt or self-reflection now, a life hung in the balance, waiting to be plucked back from the grave and restored.

He was almost giddy with anticipation. He had not disclosed to Hyde that the consciousness that awakened might not be that of their companion. He himself had no memories of a time before his birth and there was just as much likelihood that she too would return as a blank slate. That was not ideal, he admitted, but he could not think such a thing to be a total loss. To have another like himself would be adequate consolation for the loss of Ms Morris. Whatever was brought back, Adam swore to himself that he would not turn his back on his creation. He would do better by his progeny than his own father. Of that he was certain.

"You've resurrected people before?" Hyde's voice intruded as the small man wandered across the lab peering at the glimmering, viscous, liquids that funneled into the vat with interest.

"Not people, but I've brought back several frogs, two cats and a dog," said Adam, "It works and I think perhaps better for my access to the advancement in medicine since my makers time,” He turned to Hyde, "Now, before we begin, did you get the heart?"

Hyde drew a jar from his coat, a perfectly preserved human heart sealed within. Adam nodded in satisfaction, "Excellent, I'm not going to ask where you got it, frankly I do not care so long as it is in good condition and fresh."

"Oh it's fresh alright, and in excellent condition, I tested the donor's constitution myself before the harvest," Hyde chortled as he handed the jar over.

"Mmm, let's not tell Miss Morris that when we bring her back. I don't know how she'd take to finding out you killed someone to get a new heart for her," Adam pursed his lips, he was not legitimately displeased as fresher parts guaranteed a higher chance of success. He looked down at Hyde curiosity scrawled across his features, "Why are you so keen on helping me with this? I know you don't like Watson but this can't all be spite."

"It isn't," Hyde confirmed, "I am genuinely curious to see if this works. I am a scientist at heart after all. More to the point, I liked Miss Morris, she was the only one in our group who doesn't have a stick up her arse and she was good at cards. Besides if I’m stuck with no one but you, Watson and that sanctimonious little shit Harker then I’m going to make damn sure that you’re all as miserable with my company as I am yours. “

"You are, perhaps, the most hateful creature I have ever met...and I am myself, a vile devil," Adam remarked passively as he laid Selma's body on the table and handed Edward the scalpel, "This is your job. I could possibly do it but, I believe, you are an actual doctor and you have the learning and the experience that I lack. I trust you can transplant the heart?"

Edward frowned, "I can, though the task requires a certain level of detachment and patience. That was always Jekyll’s domain…I’ll do my best.”

As Adam readied the apparatus that would bring Selma Morris back to life Edward prepped himself for surgery. As he was washing his hands a small trickle of fear ran down his spine. Could he really do this? It was one thing to patch a small wound but a major surgery, even on a cadaver, required attentiveness and delicacy, those traits did not come easily to him without Henry’s temperance. His head swam, what if he made a mistake? What if he botched it up and they really lost her forever? He felt suddenly nauseous as he picked up the scalpel and prepared to make the first incision.  As the blade hovered over the corpse’s chest he froze, paralyzed by an overwhelming uncertainty. As his anxiety built, he found himself fighting the urge to slash into the body and start hacking away. Smash the lab, destroy it all and rip everything apart then burn it to the ground as long as he didn’t have to face the risk of failure. Did he really want that? He didn’t know…that was the rub of it. Indecision held him pinned and he could feel his control begin to slip.

"Give me the scalpel, Edward," a calm voice in the back of his mind said firmly just as he was about to plunge the instrument into the dead woman’s chest, "you're too shaken up. Let me take over,"

"I'm not letting you out Henry, you tried to kill us and I haven't forgiven you! I know as soon as you're free you'll try to lock me away again!"

"No Edward, I won't. I'll transplant the heart and then I'll let you have control again. I give you my word."

"You mean that now but I know once you're out you'll be tempted! You’ll feel all of those things again that I keep at bay! Shame and sorrow will eat us if I let us be you again! We’ll want to die and we can't resist temptation no matter which of us we are!"

"Isn't Miss Morris worth the risk? I liked her too Edward. If she can be brought back then shouldn’t we try? Listen to me Edward, we don’t want to fail. We want to give this its best chance, let me have the scalpel."

Hyde resisted only briefly before he shuddered, closed his eyes and retreated. Jekyll took a moment to get his bearings, nod at Adam, who was staring at him in confusion, and then swiftly, cleanly, he made the first incision. ..... My players accidentally got an NPC killed and begged me to bring her back. This scene was the result.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Wings

Daryl Dixon x Reader [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]

Babysitting Judith was amazing, not that she needed a babysitter but Michonne preferred if someone was with her while she herself couldn’t be there.

“Come on Jude, time for bed!” You called out, chasing after her, trying to g her ready to sleep and hoping she’d lose some of that typical child energy by chasing her around the house or longer than was honestly needed. You’d never mind it all, it was great to only have to worry about a little kid’s bed time for once in a while. The only worries being the ones between the four walls you were currently sharing with probably the happiest resident of Alexandria. After running up and down the stairs countless times the little one finally started slowing down. “Oh noooo you’re catching meee!” She whined when you eventually picked her up and carried her to her room. “Yeah I did, you sleepyhead, you got to tired to run away. That means ya gotta sleep.” You carefully tucked her in and gave her a small kiss on her head. “Goodnight, kid.”  You id softly as you left the bedroom. Before you could close the door completely, you heard a small ‘Goodnight’ and smiled to yourself as you closed the door and went back downstairs to drop yourself onto the couch.

You had been staying at this place for two days now and were currently deep in conversation with Kelly, who decided you needed some company after Judith’s bedtime. And of course none of your friend’s evening visits would be complete without a skillfully stolen bottle of alcohol and the two of you were deeply indulged in tipsy talk of boys, girls and anything that was not meant for children's ears.

“No, really. You wouldn’t even be able to imagine what I’d let that guy do to me..” You rambled on and on about your secret, not so little crush. “I wanna have his babies, oh my god.”

Kelly was practically crying in her seat from laughing too much, trying to hush herself to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally wake up Judith. “I never thought you were the one for kids, though?” She questioned into the room. “Especially now with the world gone to shit and all.”

You just kept blabbing on about how in love you were and how there was finally some hope once their group came into Alexandria and Kelly only fed you more questions to answer without an ounce of shame, all he way until the bottle was empty and your heart had spilled enough to satisfy her curiosity and you were close to falling asleep on the couch.

After Kelly left it wasn’t long before you passed out and slept peacefully until morning, when you were woken up by Michonne who had arrived home earlier than you expected. Your first instinct was to glance over the coffee table and lucky for you Kelly had thought to take the empty bottle back with her when she left. “G’morning, you.” You muttered, still half asleep. Looking further across the room you saw Judith quietly sitting at the dinner table, doodling something and making sure she wouldn’t wake you up while you still slept. “Good morning!” She happily called from the table, to which you lazily waved hello back while slowly getting up, praising whoever was listening to bless you with a morning without a hangover after drinking as much as you did yesterday.

“thank you so much for watching her again.” Michonne spoke as she gave you a goodbye hug at the front door after you shared breakfast and packed your things to head back home. “If you ever need the favor returned, let me know alright” She called after you with a mischievous smile and a happy wave before closing the door again.

You made your way back home and took a quick shower before going off to find Daryl who was supposed to come over yesterday to talk about that run you two were going on tomorrow, but he never showed up and you were curious to find out why.

Daryl was making his way over to Michonne’s place where he was meeting y/n to discuss their run, but before he knocked on the front door he heard laughter coming from the living room and checked through the window and spotted Kelly and her sharing a drink and laughing, listening in to their conversation he quickly decided he wasn’t gonna be a part of all that and went back home. The words he heard her speak mulling around in his head throughout the whole night and into the morning.

It wasn’t long before you found Daryl. After checking his place and finding empty, you saw Aaron’s garage door open and peeked in to see Daryl working on his bike. “Hey, good morning!” You called from outside the garage. You received  a Hey back without him looking away from his bike. “Can I interrupt or are you dropping by my place when you’re done?” You asked, still from your safe distance. No one was allowed too close to his bike whenever he was working on it, not even Judith dared to get close to uncle Daryl’s garage when he was working. “S’alright. Lemme finish up here first.” He still hadn’t taken a single glance away from his bike and you took it as your sign to leave him alone and wait back at your place.

After sitting in the living room for what felt like way too long you started wandering around the house, picking up one item after the other and see if it was useful enough to pack for your run. You remembered Daryl telling you to only pack what was necessary, but you found so many things useful with your what-if way of thinking that you always carried an already full bag from the start of the run and having Daryl carry more than he was planning to because of your, according to him, bad habits.

Eventually there was a knock on your door and you almost threw yourself down the stairs to open the door and allow Daryl to come in and finally sit down to work out a plan.

“Hey! Good to finally see you.” You invited him into your home that was still a mess of items never put back after runs, blankets and pillows  thrown around the couch and that was only the living room. There was more silence from him as he paced around, trying to find a spot that wouldn’t be right next to you on the couch. Questions were all over your mind, but you had to get to the point. Your biggest problem now was not being able to focus at all on the important run you were gonna go on, before going over why he hadn’t shown up and had been so weirdly quiet and distant.

“Were you working on our bike all night again? you didn’t drop by yesterday like you said you would.” You were sounding more worried than you wanted to let on, you knew that there was something wrong if Daryl spent all day tinkering away at his bike. He was still looking around at all of the stuff scattered throughout your place, mulling over the multiple ways he could answer. ‘You were drinking’ was one of them. ‘Ya were havin’ fun’ was another one, he’d never want to end your enjoyable night with a friend by coming over to talk about work. ‘Didn’t wanna hear more about the guy ya wanted to bone ya.’ Or more likely, not wanting to find out which pretty young guy she was so happily talking about.

“Came by,  heard ya talk about guys with Kelly.” He said carefully, still avoiding your gaze. “Okay, so? You know we would have stopped as soon as you walked in, right? This is way more important than my tips rambling.” You had noticed him staring around and you felt guilty for not even cleaning up a little bit, knowing he’d drop by today. You had started with grabbing the pillows and tossing them into your basket an folding the blankets on top of it to at least make some space on the couch for Daryl to come and sit while you sat back down in the chair next to it.

“Or is there something else you want to talk about? there’s clearly something bothering you.” You didn’t feel safe going on this run tomorrow if this wasn’t talked about and properly dealt with.

Daryl knew this as well, if you two were going to go on a run without your heads on straight, either of you could end up getting hurt or worse and thinking about that idea had Daryl close to panicking earlier last night on top of those thoughts of what you talked about. He knew this was something he needed to share today and it was stressing him out.

“S’what ya said to Kelly. Heard something I should forget about. Tha’s all.” He sighed as he dumped himself on your couch, unsure if he chose the right words and afraid of the confrontation he was gonna have and couldn’t simply run away from.

“So you heard me talk to Kelly about,” You sighed, thinking back to your conversation, going from topic to topic, crossing out everything that wouldn’t have affected him like this and ended up on hat moment where you were shamelessly telling her what you’d want Daryl to do to you, but you couldn’t remember if you’d even used his name at all. “We talked about boys, so what?” You never mentioned his name in the part that he heard, or what you thought he had and now you had to decide wether you were telling him who all of that was about and confess, or let him imagine who you might have been talking about and get it wrong every time.

“Why’d ya want a guy to do that to ya in this world?” Daryl asked just loud enough for you to catch it before you could say anything else, and now you had to think of an answer. You thought about how much easier this was to answer if Kelly had been the one asking the question. Realizing what your head just told you, you knew how to answer him. Just tell him what you’d tell Kelly that was the truth and it should be said out loud before you could come up with a shitty excuse. Not daring to look him in the eyes, you were twiddling your fingers in your lap, gathering the courage to speak your thoughts out loud. Taking a deep breath you had to go for it. “All that was about you. We were talking about you. We both think you’re amazing. Her only as friends of course but I’ve been feeling more for quite a while and I’m sorry you heard all that. We drank too much and I wasn’t thinking.”  Rambling on you almost went into an over-explaining fit because of how nervous you were and honestly you just wanted to disappear.

The silence wasn’t helping at all either, making your doubts ring even louder in your head. “Ya crazy, kid. But a good crazy.” You carefully looked his way after being dragged out of your head by his voice. “I don’t get it, really. Jus’ happy ya ain’t after one of them Alexandrian boys.” This had you giggle as Kelly gave you the exact same answer when she asked if you were interested in someone and found out it was Daryl.

“Is that all you’re gonna say? You don’t get it but what? You’re okay with it? You just don’t feel the same? Or you do but you don’t know how to say it.” You weren’t sure why you were asking so much, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know the answers.

“Can’t say I slept well after what ya said an’ thinkin’ it was about one of them other boys.” He was talking around the point and while you just wanted him to say what he was thinking, you knew it was difficult for him too. “So, what now? We just pretend this never happened, go on before?”

Daryl thought about it for a bit, pacing around the room rummaging in his pocket and pulling outa pack of cigarettes, holding them up for you to see. “You can smoke inside, there’s an ashtray in the kitchen.” You motioned towards the kitchen counter, understanding he needed a smoke after such a difficult talk. You saw him visibly relax as he took a few drags and sat back down with the ashtray balanced on his leg. Rethinking his plan he placed the ashtray back on the coffee table and placed his cigarette in it before leaning back in the chair and patting his leg, motioning for you to come over. “Yer gonna have ta help me with this.” He said and picked up his cigarette again as you hadn’t moved yet. “I do like ya a lot. But I wanna go on that run before we talk about all of this.”

[blu-eh]

after school summons

[AO3] 

or: Danny gets summoned. He doesn’t like it.

It starts with a tugging feeling in his very core.

Danny Fenton pauses. If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last year, it is not to ignore random things that are definitely ghostly in origin. He has just enough time to place his pencil on the desk from where he had dutifully been doing his homework—for the first time in two weeks, mind you—before his vision goes white, he hears a snap, and suddenly he’s not in his room anymore.

For a moment he’s weightless, lost in the feeling of falling. Then, his body jerks and he has just enough time to think, oh fuck—before he’s slammed to the ground hard.  His knees buckle under the unexpected weight and he goes down, clumsily, and trying not to throw up what little he’d managed to eat between homework packets.

“Ow,” Danny says.

He lies there, just for a moment, taking in the cool concrete underneath him. He tries to steady his breathing just enough so his mind can process what the hell just happened in the last thirty seconds. He’s still blinking stars from his eyes when he hears the hushed whispers echo around him and a heavy pair of footsteps approaching him. All in all, very bad signs when mysterious (and somewhat painful) things happen to you suddenly.

A gruff, questioning voice asks, “A child?”

“Oh, man,” Danny says, because that definitely does not sound good. Then he forces himself to his knees and looks up.

The first and foremost thing Danny notices is that he’s not alone. He’s on some sort of altar or platform, elevated a foot or so above the ground. A couple feet away, a group of no more than a dozen people surround him in a semi-circle, faces all covered by tattered cloaks. Another cloaked figure, dressed in much more formal robes with gold trimming, stands on the platform a mere couple feet from where Danny is. They all seem to be staring at him, waiting.

Danny hastily gets to his feet. He shifts a little into a sloppy fighting stance, just in case things were to get messy.

The dimly-lit warehouse room and the head covers don’t give him much to work with in the facial feature department, but he’s pretty confident that none of them are ghosts. Mostly from the fact that none of them are glowing and/or ranting about how much of a pain in the ass he is, but it still pays to be wary. Especially when Danny’s situations tend to quickly dissolve from bad to oh my god there are ghosts lose in Amity Park and also he maybe-sort of-possibly died in the process.  

Which brings him back to his next brilliant deduction; he’s definitely in ghost form. He definitely was not in ghost form before this. His ghost form is rather obvious considering he sticks out like a glow stick in darkness of the warehouse. He doesn’t even feel the need to check his hair color, this time, but that’s more due to the fact that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the weird people who managed to summon him from his bedroom and forced him to change into his ghost form.

(He desperately hopes that they hadn’t seen him change—weird warehouse people are not people that Danny generally associates with secret keeping.)

“Is this a cult thing?” Danny asks before any of them can speak. He takes in white line that surrounds him, and the red liquid (which he very much hopes is not blood) used to paint runes and symbols that circle him, and their weird cloak-like robes, and says, “This is definitely a cult thing. Oh my god, did you summon me? Seriously—”

Before this, he hadn't even known he could be summoned. It's just the little ghostly things learned via accident, sometimes, that truly take the icing on the cake.

There’s a tiny spark of anxiety in his gut, but honestly there’s a large difference between humans threatening him and ghosts threatening him. On one hand, he’d take weird cultist over Skulker’s lair any day. On the other hand, pure white walls and experimentation tables aren’t super high on his to visit list either. Worst comes to worst—before they sacrifice him to some ancient gods, more likely—he puts on his scary face (and maybe adds a couple of explosions) and slips out before they even notice he’s missing.

“Silence, creature,” the robed man snaps. Danny zeros in on him and immediately deduces him to be leader from vibes alone. Also the gold trimming on his robe, which very much screams leader of weird cult that summons ghost kids.

“I—okay, you know what? That was just rude,” Danny says. He points to the white line that surrounds him, “Is that cocaine?”

Danny has a feeling he doesn’t want to know the answer to the mysterious red liquid and painted symbols, so he doesn’t ask.

“It’s salt,” one of the other cloaked figures answers, like it should be obvious.

(It’s not actually obvious, and actually leaves Danny with more questions than he started with. Mostly in the realm of how did a group of cultists summon him with salt. He knows salt is supposedly an anti-ghost measure, but Danny is pretty convinced it has little to no effect on him considering the amount of Nasty Burger fries he’s consumed haven’t taken him out yet.)

“Salt,” Danny repeats. He pauses, then awkwardly tags on, “That’s good, I guess, because drugs are bad. Uh, don’t do drugs.”

A cultist quietly, and a little slowly, answers back, “We, uh, don’t.”

“Right,” Danny says. His eyes catch another section of weird in this already weird, cultist warehouse. At the base of the platform sits a variety of bones, so fresh that some of the muscle still clings to them. “Are those bones? Oh my god, did you sacrifice someone? That’s not cool! Murder isn’t cool!”

“Those are goat bones,” another follower says.

“Oh,” Danny says. “Well, I mean, that’s still fucked up on a variety of levels, but I guess that’s better than murder. Unless it's considered goat murder? Uh.”

For a second, there’s silence. The nature of the interaction is so awkward and oppressing that he almost goes invisible just to save himself the scrutiny of these random people and get the hell out of dodge. His curiosity is the only thing that holds him back—that, and the fact that he’s not quite sure if any of these people are secretly hiding ecto-weapons.

Danny very much does not want to be shot tonight.

He looks around the room, eyes taking in every inch of the sparsely decorated warehouse. There’s nothing that immediately grabs his attention, nor anything that really screams danger but it pays to be suspicious of his surroundings in his line of work. A few of the cultists notice this, and start shifting awkwardly as Danny looks over them as well.

Then, Danny’s eyes flicks back to the lead cultist and he says, “I’m going to be real honest here and say that I have no idea what the heck is going on.”

The leader makes no inclination that he acknowledges any word that comes from Danny’s mouth. Instead, he brings an old, wrinkled hand up to his face, like he’s thinking about some complex problem. The leader circles Danny once, then again, and Danny feels something inside him defensively coil like a spring.

He tries not to be bothered when people treat him as something lesser—it’s not, exactly, uncommon for him to encounter. He dealt with being shoved into lockers long before he died, anyways. It doesn’t stop his shoulders from tensing just the barest amount.

Instead of showing this, he brings his feet up to his chest and crosses them mid-air, and fakes a yawn for good measure. A few of the other cultists gasp in wonder and fear. The leader simply stops his prowling and turns to face Danny.

“So this is the fabled Ghost King,” the man says, like he expected better.

Danny feels he should almost be offended if it isn’t for the tiny detail that these cultists—who summoned him by using salt and goat bones—assume he is the ghost king. “…Did you seriously confuse me with Pariah Dark?”

The man pauses, and asks, “Pariah Dark?”

“Yes! He’s like fifteen feet tall, has a huge sword, is a pain in the ass, and has, like, an entire ghost army. I have, I dunno, pre-calc homework in my bag. We are not the same.”

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. Danny bares his teeth in their direction, just to see them squirm. A couple take worried steps back and Danny fights off a satisfied grin.

Hey, poke a bull and get the horns. In this case, summon a ghost-teenager and get the ecto-powers.

(He’s slowly becoming more and more aware that these people have no idea what they’re doing.)

“I see,” the leader says. From his tone, he definitely does not see. “It doesn’t matter. Our book summoned the King of Ghosts and that is you, so you will do as we tell you and your pain will be lessened.”

“I am still not the Ghost King,” Danny tells him. “And no thanks. I’ve already used my yearly cult sign up and I can’t say I’m thrilled to join another. If you’re going to hold an initiation ceremony, at least decorate a bit first. Uh, not counting the goat bones and salt, of course.”

“You have no choice,” the leader snaps and steps a bit closer to him. Danny merely raises an eyebrow. “We are the Followers of Infernal. We have summoned you to serve us. You are bound to our will and bound to our grace, as the book foretold. Now bow, demon, for we are your new masters.”

There’s a very large portion of Danny Fenton that is convinced any good karma he held in life did not pass with him during his death a mere year ago. An even larger portion of him is convinced that these guys are no more serious than the GIW is. Danny does not tell the cultists this.

Instead, he squints and says, “Alright. I definitely failed US Government, but I’m pretty sure that’s not legal. Don’t you guys need like, a permit to summon undead beings of mass power?”

“It thinks it’s funny.” The leader’s face is mostly hidden by his robe, but Danny can imagine the sneer there from his tone alone.

“Trust me, I’m not the one who’s a joke right now,” Danny says. He looks back over at the dozen or so followers and grins at them. They don’t seem too keen that he’s not following their master’s orders and bending to their will. He turns back to the leader. “What’s in it for me?”

“What?”

“If I follow you and stuff, what’s in it for me?”

The leader pauses, then says, “You will be spared of punishment.”

“Hmm, that’s not good enough,” Danny says. He angles his body so he's once again looking at the followers and points at one in the middle. “Hey, you! With the cloak. No, not you, the other dude. To the left. Yeah! You. What do you have to offer me?”

The follower looks so startled that he cowers for a second. Then, seeing as he hadn’t been reduced to a pile of ashes from Danny’s gaze alone, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small and silver. “Uh, I have a paper clip, your ghostliness.”

“A paper clip,” Danny repeats. “Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. That sounds neat.”

“You’ll submit to us?” the man sounds so hopeful that Danny almost feels bad for being a jerk. Then, he remembers that they summoned him out of his nice, warm bedroom at ass-o’clock in the night and feels significantly less amounts of pity.

“No, dude, I’m not being your sack of potatoes for a paper clip. Man, you guys are stupid.” Danny rolls his eyes and floats just a bit higher. The other followers shuffle around again, uncomfortable. In front of him, the leader remains impassive as ever. “Where even am I?”

“The lair which you will spend the rest of your afterlife,” the leader says.

“Okay, this is definitely a warehouse, firstly. And secondly, dude, I meant what state.”

“…Wisconsin,” the man allows because of course everything terrible happens in Wisconsin.

“You chose the worst state to have your crappy lair,” Danny tells them. Now he has to fly a couple hundred miles home and hope he gets there by morning, all the while avoiding his creepy, obsessed arch-nemesis. He wonders if Vlad is even aware there’s a ghost-obsessed cult in his home state. Probably not. “Nothing good ever comes from Wisconsin. You can take that as, like, ghostly wisdom or something.”

“Hey,” one of the cultists says, offended. “The Packers are in Wisconsin.”

“Nothing good,” Danny repeats, firmly.

“Enough of this nonsense,” the leader says. “It’s trying to distract you because it fears control. Briar, bring me the orb.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them says.

The followers mutter to themselves and teeter around in their positions. The woman who spoke, on the end, bows and scurries off. Danny watches as she runs through the darkness of the warehouse, footsteps echoing around them, until he can no longer see her among the darkness.  

“Hey, if they already listen to you then why do you need me?” Danny asks. The leader doesn’t answer, so Danny floats a bit on his side and puts his arms behind his head. “What kind of orb are we talking about, anyways? Like one of those Spirit Halloween ones? Or is it more like orbeeze? I can’t saw I’m super excited from your ominous it fears control statement, but—"

“Silence, beast,” the leader says.

Danny huffs. “I’m just asking. No need to be so snippy.”  

The man ignores him which, rude. Danny’s just about to see how far he can test this guy’s patience when Briar comes back, just as quickly as she had disappeared. She jogs through the warehouse and up the steps of the platform. Danny can’t see her face, but from the way her hood moves to glace at him every so often, he figures that she’s probably nervous. Specifically about him lounging around in a circle full of salt.

“Father Johnathan,” Briar says and bows. In her hands is a glowing, silver orb. It really did look like a generic orb one would find in a Spirit Halloween. “The orb.”

“Your name is Father Johnathan?” Danny asks. He eyes the orb for a second, but doesn’t feel the tingle of ghostly energy from it, so he ignores it. He turns right back to the leader, not able to keep the grin off his face. “Your name is really Father Johnathan?”

Father Johnathan gently takes the orb in his hands as Briar scurries off towards the rest of the followers. Then, he sighs and says, “Yes, creature, my name is Father Johnathan and I shall be your new master.”

“Oh my god,” Danny says, positively gleeful. “I meet real life Papa John and he summons me with salt and threatens me with a Spirit Halloween orb.”

“Laugh all you want,” Papa John says. The nervous air shifts into something a bit more predatory. “You will not be laughing much longer.”

The cultists break into applause and talk amongst themselves loudly. They shift forward, eagerly, as if they want to watch the spectacle up close. They’re only a foot or so away from the platform when Papa John waves at them to halt.

Papa John holds up the orb. It swirls, the silver fog inside consolidating and then dissipating. Something inside it starts to glow the barest amount.

Danny pauses, just for a second, and watches it. There's still no tingle of ghostly energy coming from it. If he hadn’t already thought these guys are a joke, he definitely would’ve been a tad more nervous. As it stands, he thinks nothing of it—no ghostly energy means no control over ghosts.

(Unfortunately, he knows the feeling of ghost-controlling objects quite well. It’s not an experience he’s eager to repeat.)

The orb glows brighter, and brighter, swirling more furiously. The chatter of the cultists picks up to the point where they’re almost shouting, jeering at him. Papa John draws closer and closer, orb outstretched. He holds it through the salt line and touches it to Danny’s chest. The shouting from his followers almost becomes unbearable.

And then….nothing. The orb stops glowing. The fog inside stops swirling. It simply dies in Papa John’s hand.

“Was that supposed to do something?” Danny asks.

Papa John touches him with the orb again, a tad more forceful, so Danny assumes it was supposed to do something. From the panicked whispers around him, it definitely was supposed to do something to him. Danny’s honestly not sure if the outcome is due to him being a halfa or these guys being a joke.

(He’s willing to bet it’s the latter.)

“I think your LED batteries died,” Danny tells him. “Or maybe you mixed up your Spirit Halloween orbs. Better luck next time.”

Papa John stops furiously pressing the orb to his chest and if Danny could see his face, he has no doubts that Papa John’s expression would be livid.

“You will obey us,” Papa John says.

“No,” Danny says. “I won’t.”

“You will—”

Danny swings his feet down so hard that he cracks the very ground he now stands on. Dust kicks up around him as he stands tall, even though Danny’s at least two feet shorter than the leader in front of him. His eyes burn a brilliant green and he crosses his hands over his chest in an effort to look intimidating. The cult thing is interesting and all, but it's late, he still has homework to do, and Jazz has definitely noticed him missing by now so it's probably better to end this before they can get another object from a Spirit Halloween and try that instead.

It works, if the half-step back from Papa John is anything to go by.

“Listen,” Danny says, flatly. “Get a hobby and leave me alone or else you won’t like what I’m going to do.”

He makes his form flicker and the temperature drop in the room, just for dramatic effect.

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. A couple take panicked steps back. More than a few look ready to bolt for the door and leave this cult business behind forever.

Danny takes notice and stares at them, smiling wide enough that they could see his slightly-toothy grin. He makes sure his eyes flare, just a touch, and says loudly, “Boo.”

To say the cultists are startled would be an understatement. More than a few stumble back, a couple falling onto their asses. One trips on their robe and is sent tumbling. Another one yells and cowers. Papa John has no time to reign in the situation before two scatter completely.

“Peace!” Papa John shouts over the chaos of a dozen panicking followers. Those that remain do settle down enough to hear his words. “Stand down, there is nothing to fear. It is only trying to scare you into letting it free. It is trapped whilst it remains in the circle.”

Danny snorts. “I can leave any time I want.”

“You cannot leave here, demon—”

Danny raises one single eyebrow and dutifully steps out of the summoning circle.

The warehouse erupts into chaos.

The cultists are yelling now, but this time there’s only because of fear. They scatter over each other, running and tripping over their obnoxiously long cloaks. A couple trample the goat bones to the point where several loud snaps are heard over the pandemonium. It only adds more fuel to the fire as less than a dozen people scramble to get as far away from the platform—and subsequently the ghost-kid—as possible.

“Do better than a paperclip, next time!” Danny calls out to them. They only seem to run faster at the sound of his voice.

Papa John is the only one who doesn’t run. He had stumbled off the platform and away from Danny the second that Danny made it over the salt line. However, in the disarray, he had been knocked to the ground, his orb lay broken at his feet, and his robe’s hood had been yanked off and left on the ground beside him. He sits, frozen, but Danny doesn’t know if it’s from shock or from fear.

Danny takes a step closer to him.

“How…?” Papa John whispers. He’s not looking at Danny—only his old, wrinkled hands. He’s bald, with brown eyes. He looks like nothing more than any generic old man that Danny would see at a grocery store on Sunday afternoon. “We followed the book. We…we took every precaution the book said. We were supposed to have the perfect slave, bound to our every word. We…”

“That didn’t work out too well for you, huh?” Danny says and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s ‘cause you forgot the dunce cap when you decided to be the class clown.”

“Please,” Papa John says. “Spare me.”

There’s something wrong about this—seeing a human beg for his life at Danny’s feet. Danny doesn’t want to be feared. He never has wanted to be feared.

He presses his lips together and takes a single step back. Some part of him, though, knows that he desperately needs to make his point clear to avoid another situation like this (likely with more weapons, next time).

“I warned you,” Danny says softly. His voice echoes around the warehouse. The man below him shivers in terror. “Do not summon me again, or I won’t be so nice next time.” He pauses, just for a second and can't help but tag on, "Papa John."

He lets his threat linger and hopes the man takes it seriously enough that he won’t get summoned again. Then, the cool strings of invisibility wrap around his body and he disappears from sight. Danny takes one look at the man left on the floor before he shakes his head and shoots up into the Wisconsin night sky. He doesn't hear the shouted response of it's Father Johnathan from several hundred feet below him on the warehouse floor.

Danny waits about all of thirty seconds before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"Jazz? Hey, yeah, I'm fine. Yes, seriously, I'm fine but you are not going to believe what I just went through—"

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Nine: Lost In Japan

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): chest pain, health problems, getting lost

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

When you landed in Japan, your phone was already blowing up with notifications. 

"Jang Sumi Seen With Min Yoongi's Bodyguard"

"Jang Sumi Joining BTS In Japan For Promotions"

The cameras already waited when you stepped into the airport. You were in the middle of the members, and instead of stopping for pictures like normal, bodyguards flanked in between the eight of you and the cameras. 

You felt as Yoongi reached down and softly took your hand. You looked back at him with a confused look and he just shrugged. 

"They all have their assumptions anyway," he said. "Just keep going. They'll try to get in our way, but just keep going. They won't bother you if you're with me."

You moved through the crowd with Yoongi's hand as your anchor. You heard the various fans gasping and screaming and the paparazzi asking questions and trying to provoke you and the members into a response, but before you knew it, you were in the back of a van and fastening your seatbelt. The satisfying click making you smile. You made it.

Yoongi was beside you. He still held your hand and you wondered if he noticed. His thumb rubbed lightly over your knuckles in a quick, sweeping motion. You didn't necessarily mind him holding your hand, it was just that there was no use for it now.

The van door shut as Jimin got in and plopped down beside you. A few seconds later, the van was moving.

"My phone blew up when we landed," you said. "Apparently, the bodyguard who helped me through the airport was your bodyguard?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, shrugging his shoulders. 

"What did you do then?" 

"Eh, we had plenty of bodyguards," he said. "Since we were in a group, it was unnecessary to have mine." 

"But, Yoongi, I know things have happened to you in airports before. You're an idol. You're a bigger risk." 

"Sumi, I lent him to you and something still happened," Yoongi said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again, but slower this time.

"You really don't have to worry about us, Sumi," Jimin said. His eyes were closed and you'd honestly thought he was asleep. "We have enough bodyguards and we have Jungkook." Jimin kicked the back of the youngest's seat, who sat in front of him. 

You laughed and dropped the subject and instead gazed out the window at Tokyo. You'd only truly been to the city once when you were a kid, although you'd had many layovers in the Tokyo airport on your flight to and from the US. 

---  

"There's a problem with the hotel," Se-jin said, coming back out to the van. Most of the members were barely awake due to their busy schedules and how they'd gotten used to sleeping on most forms of transportation. "A fire sprinkler in Sumi's room burst and it flooded the whole room. The flooding is contained in her room due to the staff. Are you okay sharing a room, Sumi?"

You nodded. "Yeah," you said. "That's fine." 

"All right, does anyone--"

"I will!" All of the members shouted at once. You were amazed that despite their perceived states of sleep, they all appeared to be awake and fully listening. You laughed.

"She'll stay with me," Yoongi said. 

You turned to look at him surprised. "But, what about the rumors?"

"They know we're soulmates at this point. And, if you got caught staying with one of the other members, what do you think they would think?" 

Your brow furrowed. They already thought you had cheated on Minki with Yoongi, but if the media began circulating that you were cheating on Yoongi, you could only imagine the backlash you would receive. 

"Yeah, okay," you said. "I'll stay with Yoongi." Se-jin nodded and closed the van door as he went back into the hotel to finish checking in. 

"We've rented out the whole floor, so there should be no way anyone will find out," Yoongi said, giving you a small smile. 

"Then, why couldn't I stay with one of the other boys?" you asked, your lips curving into a smirk. 

Yoongi's ears turned red and he looked between you and the other members who watched in loving amusement.

"Just in case."

---

By the time you all got checked in and everything unloaded, the sun was beginning to set. You saw no point in unpacking your suitcase completely when you were only staying for four days. However, you unpacked your toiletries and headed to the bathroom. 

"Do you need to shower--?" you ask, but the words are left in the air as you notice Yoongi dropping the extra pillows and blankets from the closet onto the couch. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up my bed." He smoothed out the blankets and placed the pillow on one end of the couch. 

"You don't have to sleep on the couch. I trust you. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

"It's not that," Yoongi said. "I don't trust the urges. We've only had one, but I'm afraid if we lay together in bed. It would just trigger something." 

You nodded. "You're right. But, I'll sleep on the couch. This is your room." 

Yoongi shrugged and shook his head before falling back onto the couch and crossing his hands over his stomach. "Go take your shower." 

You sighed and went into the bathroom and took the shower you'd been long awaiting. Despite the coffee having been spilled on you hours before and changing into Yoongi's shirt, you could still feel the sticky cream-filled coffee on your skin. You undressed and folded Yoongi's shirt and placed it on the counter so that it wouldn't get wet and continued to undress. Only when you had finished did you realize that you'd forgotten to bring your pajamas with you. 

---

"Yoongi?" you asked, peeking your head out the bathroom. "Are you awake?"

Yoongi chose not to respond as you emerged from the bathroom in one of the hotel's white bathrobes. He didn't respond because he wanted you to strip in front of him, but rather, he was hoping to be asleep within a few minutes anyway.

As he heard you shuffle back towards the bed, he heard a small scuffle and you curse under your breath. He opened his eyes to see you standing by the bed as nothing happened. You unfastened the robe and allowed it to fall. 

Yoongi only caught a glance of your bare back before he shut his eyes again, although he felt a stirring in his stomach. He could only curse in his head as he attempted to focus on anything else. He didn't catch a glimpse of anything super sexual, but it didn't matter. Yoongi hoped this wouldn't lead to another urge. While he wanted nothing more than to pull you into him and kiss you up and down your body, he knew he couldn't for the sake of severing the soulmate bond. 

There were a few seconds of silence. He figured you'd finished getting dressed, but the light was still on and he hadn't heard you climb into the bed. He opened his eyes only to be met with a pillow to the face. 

"I knew you weren't asleep!" you said, holding the pillow above your head to bring back down upon him. Yoongi acted quickly and sat up and grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the side. 

You were dumbfounded for a second until you heard Yoongi laugh. "What was your plan exactly?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I just wanted to prove you were being a creep." You wiggled your eyebrows as a smirk came over your face. 

"Hey! I didn't see anything. I kept my eyes closed."

"Mmm," you said. "I don't believe you." 

Before Yoongi could respond, a silence came over the two of you as you both simultaneously realized that you were straddling his lap and you could feel him pressing into you. 

"Sorry," he whispered as you climbed off of him. 

You shook your head. "No, it's okay. You didn't mean to. Let's, uh, let's go to bed."

"Wait, Sumi, what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"I just plan on going out and exploring a bit. I've never got to explore the city. Probably do some shopping, visit temples." Your eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Why?"

"I'll be working," he said. "Just make sure to get back here before me so we don't risk anything. I'm supposed to be done with the fan sign at five." 

You nodded. "You don't think being away from each other in general will cause anything?" 

It was only then that Yoongi realized that you hadn't been away from each other for nearly two weeks. While you might not be physically together, you were always within the same building or space. "I think it's been enough time." 

You nodded as you climbed under the covers of the bed and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. Even in the dark, Yoongi could make out as you pulled the covers up to your chin and turned on your side. It made him smile. 

"Goodnight, Yoongi."

"Goodnight."

---

Your knees ached by midday, but your day alone in the city had been one of the best you'd had in years. You hadn't been truly alone for what felt like months. Sure, you slept alone and you could easily duck in the bathroom for five minutes of peace, but this was freedom you didn't think you'd have after the whole soulmate thing happened.

Yoongi was gone when you'd woke up that morning, the blanket tossed to one side of the couch. Not neat, but not exactly messy. It was odd, not feeling the aching in his chest when he was gone. You knew there were exceptions for when you were obligated to be apart, but since Yoongi worked so much, maybe it wouldn't be so horrible.

Your mind had still wandered to Yoongi throughout the day. Occasionally, you'd see a BTS ad campaign or someone wearing merch, but what really caught your attention was a small Kumamon figure. It was clearly meant to act as a paperweight or just to decorate a desk. You'd noticed that Yoongi seemed to like the character and after a quick Google search, it was confirmed. You bought the figure and tossed it into your purse.

With shopping bags in your hands and your camera in your hand, you managed to use your one free hand to pull out enough money to buy a taiyaki. You thanked the woman who handed it to you in your best rudimental Japanese. 

You were a few blocks away and halfway through your taiyaki when you thought to check the time. You nearly dropped the sweet bun when you realized it was 4:50 pm. Yoongi was due to be done in ten minutes and you were at least a half hour walk from the hotel--if not more. 

You rush out to the side of the road and attempt to hail a taxi. The first few passed you, but eventually one stopped and you frantically told the driver the name of the hotel. 

Within five minutes, the driver only managed to get a few blocks because of rush hour traffic. With nowhere to go, you were stranded. You'd gone the whole day without making a scene or being recognized (although maybe because you wore a baseball cap and mask), despite your face on the cover of magazine articles everywhere. And, you were afraid that you were going to have to end up on more of them to get out of this. 

You waited another five minutes before handing the driver a wad of cash that was definitely too much and apologizing as you got out of the cab. Carrying your bags and purse on your arm, you ran across the stopped lanes of traffic and tried to ignore the car horns and confused shouts. You checked the time. 5:01 pm. You ran and pulled up the GPS on your phone and entered the hotel address. 

Your vision blurred and you felt a small pull in your chest. It was warning you.

---

Something felt off as the van pulled up to the back door of the hotel. His palms begin to sweat and his heart beat against his chest as if he were sprinting. The door to the van opened and Yoongi didn't even remember it stopping or the rest of the members climbing out. 

"Yoongi?" one of the members called. 

Yoongi managed to his feet and out of the van but nearly collapsed against Jin, who grabbed him by the shoulder to stabilize him. He doesn't get far before he collapses against the wall of the hotel, his neck lulling back. 

"Yoongi, what's wrong?"

"Sumi...she must not be back yet..." 

Yoongi hears some talking and shuffling, but barely understands anything as two of the boys lift him up and inside the hotel. 

"They're going to look for her, Yoongi. It will be okay."

---

You'd made it a few more blocks, although you could barely tell. You were running, even though your vision was so blurred you could barely see. You used the buildings on the side as your guide and hoped you wouldn't bump into anyone. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest and you honestly couldn't tell if it was because of the running or that Yoongi was back at the hotel. You felt lightheaded and even with your headphones in you could barely hear the directions your GPS was telling you.

The edges of your vision begin going black and you feel your knees hit the pavement. This was it. You hoped a passerby would stop and at least call an ambulance. 

"Sumi!" someone a short distance away shouted.

You couldn't make out their faces, but you could see figures running through the crowd towards you. As you slumped against the nearest wall, you felt yourself being scooped up. 

"Sumi, Sumi, it's okay. We're not too far away. Come on, stay awake." 

You recognized Jungkook's face and allowed your face to fall against his T-shirt. It felt warm, but as you neared the hotel, your senses clearing a tiny bit, you realized it was a little too warm. You remembered back to the day before when you'd accidentally burned Tae's hand. 

"I-I'm sorry," you said. "It doesn't hurt does it?"

"It was just the T-shirt. Don't worry about it, Sumi."

His voice is soft and you can barely hear him over the commotion you're approaching. You can already hear the slew of photographers who are inside the lobby of the hotel and outside on the sidewalk. They haven't seemed to notice you yet, as their camera flashes and yells are aimed elsewhere.

"Jungkook! Jimin!" Se-jin called from the alleyway where he held open a service door normally only used for employees. While your vision had cleared, you still felt out of breath and your heart still convulsed in your chest. 

Jungkook ran towards the door and immediately into a service elevator. He didn't drop you back on your feet like you had expected him to. His arms were slung under your knees and around your shoulders. You wondered why you weren't burning his arms. Maybe because he wasn't touching your skin? Maybe the soulmate curse somehow recognized that he was helping you get closer to Yoongi? Whatever it was, you were thankful that beyond burning a small black hole in his T-shirt, you hadn't hurt him. 

The elevator dinged and Jungkook rushed you into your hotel room. Yoongi was already on the bed, a cloth on his forehead. He was sweaty, his shirt pulled up, exposing his stomach and his hair pushed back. 

Jungkook plopped you down on the bed beside Yoongi. Your breath evened out and your muscles relaxed, but the dull ache in your chest remained.

"Do you guys need anything?"

"Just some water." 

Jungkook went to the sink and filled a glass with water and set it on the bedside table beside you. "Just text or call one of us if you need anything." 

You nodded and Jungkook left the room. As soon as the door shut, Yoongi's arms around you and your face in his chest. His lips came to your forehead and you released a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

"I lost track of time," you said. "I tried to take a taxi, but it was rush hour." 

"It's okay. It's not your fault. It was harder than we thought it would be." 

"Do you think we'll ever break it?" you asked. "If this was so difficult, if we can't even be apart due to a simple mistake, even if we were in love, how would we fix this?"

"I don't know. But, you should get some sleep."

"You too." 

You rested your head on Yoongi's shoulder, his arm slung around you comfortably, fitting perfectly against your waist and in the swell of your hips. It was the only place your body would allow you to be, but even if it was just the soulmate curse, even if you didn't love Yoongi, you knew there was no other place you wanted to be than his arms.

---

You fell asleep long before Yoongi did. Your small breaths tickling the skin on his neck and you were so still in his arms, only the way your chest moved slowly up and down indicated that you were still alive.

He'd never tell you, but he loved the way you looked when you slept. You scrunched your face up like a fussy baby and sometimes you'd make small moans in reactions to whatever happened in your dreams. 

It was nearly 1 am and Yoongi couldn't sleep. There were still pangs in his chest, but he wasn't sure if it was due to the earlier ordeal, or something else. He looked down at your sleeping form and carefully tucked stray hairs behind your ear. The ends of your hair were still a little damp with sweat, but he didn't care. 

You smiled at his touch and burrowed deeper into him. So deep, in fact, Yoongi wasn't sure you'd ever come out.

[ckret2]

skelien scene 2

Does your executive ever dysfunction so hard that you casually start a novel

###

The skeleton wasn't sure how much time had passed between collapsing into the hammock to get lost in a trivial stream of data, and the sound of someone quietly picking the deadbolt lock. Rolling over to swing its gaze from the blank wall to the nearest window rocked the hammock so violently it almost fell out. Still dark. Or dark again. Hard to tell. Head too fuzzy to find a clock to check.

It reached down to grab up a mask off the floor as it called to the would-be intruder at the door, "It's unlocked."

The quiet scratching stopped. The door didn't open.

Fuck's sake. It rolled out of the hammock gracelessly, tripped over a box of old spelunking gear, and managed to stumble to a vertical position as it clattered toward the door. "I said it's unlocked. That's an implicit invitation, see, it means I want you to come in. Why are you less likely to come in when I actually want you to? Is it only satisfying if you know you're not wanted, is that it?"

The skeleton opened the door. The hall was empty.

"Come on," it griped loudly, unconcerned about how many neighbors it was about to annoy. "What are you here for? Were you here to rob me? Rough me up for somebody I hit? You can come back! I'm fine with that! I've got too much shit anyway! Talk to me about your business model, I'm behind the times on the burglary industry! Seriously"—there was an edge of desperation to its voice—"you've got no idea what a favor you'd be doing me. I'm about to starve to death from boredom. I'm not even offended. Come back?"

The hall was silent.

It considered fighting through its mental haze to try to hunt down the almost-intruder—bolt for the fireproof stairwell and jump the railings to race them down to the first floor—but no, it decided tiredly, there were too many ways it could miss the intruder—what if they went up to the roof, what if they lived in the complex and had gone home, what if it was waiting in the lobby while they were already out on the streets or what if they made it down to the lobby slowly while it was already out on the streets searching—and wandering the over-familiar streets in a fever of boredom didn't seem likely to do anything to clear the haze from their mind or chase the itch from their marrow. It might as well stay here where it was comfortable.

It groaned, let its joints go loose, and collapsed backward on the floor. It lifted one foot to press its calcaneus against the edge of the door and shove it closed.

A shadow moved behind it.

It rolled over with a clatter, grabbed the first object its phalanges brushed—a set of binoculars—and hopped to its feet with the binoculars raised in preparation to use them as an impromptu bludgeoning weapon. Under its breath, it muttered, "Thank fuck."

The figure was silhouetted black in the window, their edges smooth and formless—wearing some kind of robe. Their round goggles reflected all the tiny electronic lights in the room, looking like glittering bug eyes or a multicolored starry sky. It could think of several religious orders that called for robes like that, but no groups with a reputation for sneaking into people's apartments, and none that also mandated goggles like that. Not a uniform, then, but some individual's idea of a stealthy outfit. This could be anybody, sent by anybody.

"Are you here to kill me or hire me?" it asked.

The vague shape didn't move or answer.

"Great. A job." Without turning away, it leaned back to click the deadbolt on its door shut. "Let's lay out some ground rules here. First, I don't intimidate easy. I'm nearly as old as god, I've seen it all, I've done it all, and no matter how mysterious you get, I'm not going to forget that you're either just another person with a home life and interior thoughts or else you're a clever machine built by one. Pull the whole silent-and-inscrutable routine, and I have two emotional reactions: curious or bored. I spend more time than you could possibly imagine bored, so if you keep this up long enough that I run out of curiosity, I kick you out of my window, and you're the one who's going to have to recover from a bad first impression if you still want to hire me. We clear?"

The vague shape remained silent.

"Terrific." It hung its binoculars' strap around its neck and started circling around the shape, half heartedly attempting to clean the room to give its guest an easier walking path and perhaps somewhere to sit. The clutter of hobbies past shifted like sand dunes, opening a vague trail toward a desk whose chair was piled high with calligraphy materials. "Second: if you want me to shut up, give me a reason to. Threats don't count. Either give me something more interesting to do than talk or something more interesting than myself to listen to. It's easier than it sounds. You could start by talking." It looked around for somewhere to set its pile of nice paper and pen boxes, used an elbow to shove a toolkit on the edge of the desk closer to the center, and plopped the papers down where the toolkit had been. "Three—this isn't a rule, but I'm going to forget it if I don't say it now—" It plopped down in the desk chair and fixed its guest with a keen look. "I'm very interested in that little trick you pulled—getting past me without me seeing. How did you pull that off?" It realized it had taken the seat it had been clearing off for its guest, hopped up, and gestured invitingly to it. "Some kind of invisibility tech? An accomplice at the door to distract me while you sneak in the window? Are you a little drone in a big cloak that shuffled across the floor like a pile of moving laundry while I was looking down the hall?"

The shape didn't answer; but after a moment, they swept across the floor to claim the empty seat. They cut a smooth path across the cluttered floor, no lurching or zigzagging to dodge the many items underfoot; and the skeleton didn't feel the air stir as they passed.

"A drone," it concluded. "Not wearing laundry, though. A hologram projector?" Guessing, it added, "Shoved in through the keyhole?"

"Clever." The shape's voice emanated from behind its goggles and was slightly tinny, as if coming through a cheap earbud, and sounded just on the masculine side of androgyny. "It's not what we need you for, though."

"That's what you think." The skeleton danced through its clutter like navigating an obstacle course, tripped again over the spelunking supplies, and heaved itself into its hammock. "But go on, you've got my attention. Undivided, even. What's the job, Mr. Googly Eyes?" It tilted its head. "Mister? Miss? Other?"

"Mister is fine," Googly Eyes said. "We believe we've identified a grave threat to our nation's government. We think you're well-qualified to deal with it."

"You sound like a conspiracy nut. That's not a dealbreaker, conspiracy nuts are fun, but I thought you should know," the skeleton said. "You say 'we've identified,' who's 'we'?"

"The government."

"You sound a little less like a conspiracy nut. Can you prove it?"

"Through a hologram messenger in the middle of the night? No."

"Fair. What kind of threat to the government?"

"I can't discuss the details—"

"No no, just a broad overview," the skeleton said. "Just this much: religious or secular?"

Googly Eyes was silent, head turning to the side as if glancing back over his shoulder at the wall. The skeleton could imagine him covering his microphone as he whispered a hasty question to some supervisor.

But after a moment he faced the skeleton again. "Secular."

"All right. I'm in."

Sounding faintly amused, he said, "Only knowing that much?"

"You know how easily bored I get, don't you?"

"It's mentioned in your file, yes."

"Does it mention the kind of things I do when I'm very bored?"

Googly Eyes stayed silent.

The skeleton leaned forward, so far it threatened to tumble out of its hammock. "Right now, I am very bored," it said. "I'm in."

[bloodycassian]

rhys x (no gender) reader - sword of all

Rhys was sure of only a few things in the world. The main one was that he was sure he would never know what the Cauldron threw at him.

  When a bleeding Fae showed up on his dock, covered in black blood and wounded... he was only mildly surprised. The more interesting part of the situation was that the Fae carried a mighty sword that only Amren could identify.

"That weapon is a sign from the cauldron itself Rhysand. If you do not listen now you're a fool." She had hissed outside the door of the infirmary. Rhys had refused to let you be tortured for information on the sword that refused to leave your hand. "Interesting..." Madja had muttered at the sight of such a bond. It wasn't attached, it simply just... refused to move from your hand.

  "That is the Mother telling you! What else does she have to do? Write it in the clouds while you're flying?" Amren continued, her eyes burning with ferocity. Her desire for Rhys to be king of all Prythian had worn off months ago, unless provoked. Unless a stranger with The Sword of All was miraculously shipped directly to Velaris.

  "We know nothing of them. It could be a trap." Cassian intervened from the small couch outside the healers room. The infirmary was crowded, but in a homey way. Plants and vines creeped over the climbable areas, darkening the small windows and making the room feel like a rainforest.

  "Where is my spymaster, Cassian?" Rhys asked, still staring down Amren as brooded at him.

  "I uh..." he stammered, "See.. he - He'll be here any-" Azriel appeared in the doorway, his shadows filling the room. The plants inside seemed to shrink away. He held an ice pack to his ribs and glared at Cassian while limping forward.

  "It seems you pissed off your mate last night." Azriel said, then leaned down slowly to say softly "Next time you suggest she train with me, it will end poorly for you."

  Rhys smiled at that. but it was quickly tainted by Amren's growl. "This is serious, you grown bats. Rask hasn't seen this sword in over five millenia. If they find out we have it there will be an army at our doorstep."

  "The sword-" Azriel groaned lightly as he sat down next to Cassian. "doesnt exist. It was lost with the rebellion. We make sure it stays that way."

"I have three groups of Illyrians flying over the west sea looking for anyone who may have seen the boat carrying them and the sword. If they find anything it will be handled." Cassian promised.

  Amren looked to them, finally unlocking her glare from Rhys. She seemed satisfied enough. "I hope to be hearing from you... with that sword in your hand." She raised her chin and left without another word.

  Azriel seemed to be listening to the Madja in the next room. His shadows curling and whispering to him over his shoulders. "Barely injured.. with that much blood?" He looked to Rhys with curiosity.

  "I would not want to be on the receiving end of that sword." Rhys replied, then turned to oversee the healer's attempt to remove the weapon from your grasp. + You awoke with a searing pain in your palm. You sat up, and were instantly overtaken by a dizziness that pulled you to lean against the dark colored leather couch. 

"I must say, trying to transport someone who has a sword attached to them is more difficult than it sounds." The dark haired figure said, his slim yet strong body turning to face you. His eyes were dark, even against his darker skin. The all black outfit mixed with those eyes told you exactly who he was.

"High lord." You greeted, nodding as much as you could.

  "It's not every day I have visitors washing up on my shores. Even my spymaster failed to detect you." He paced from the end of the couch to the fireplace in the small living area. The house was dark, but not overtly so. A surprisingly cozy home compared to what you were expecting of Velaris. "With that being said you could imagine that my court has a few...questions." He held out a hand and a glass of amber liquid appeared. You felt your stomach roll at the sight of it.

 Rhysand shrugged. "If you're feeling well enough.. our healer said you should be fine within a few days."

  You straightened, weary of his kindness. You didnt feel threatened by his presence but the High Fae you had imagined ruling the night court did not match the person in front of you. "They paid me. Then they killed half my village." You said plainly, holding the sword in both hands. A look of shock flashed across Rhysand's face. The room seemed to darken with it.

  "The queens? Why would they-"

  "Not the queens." You corrected, reaching for the glass of liquor he had placed on the solid oak table in front of you. "Something far more...deadly. They were like ghosts, they were people but...illusions. They bound me and the sword by a spell, they spoke a language I did not recognize. Then I woke up to that creature carrying me."

  "You..." He smiled and looked to his feet in amusement, trying to hide the laugh. A shiver of delight ran through you at at the sight of his grin. You wanted to see it more.

 "You mean Mor- she's fierce but can be nice when she decides to." He sat on the arm chair next to you.

  "That's.. no. I mean-" You stammered, unable to explain. "She is light.. shes- do you not see it? She is made of light. It seeps through her bones." You recalled the bright figure cradling you out of the small boat before you passed out again.

  Rhys looked bewildered. He opened his mouth to speak but instead shook his head and got up. "I'll be back- I need to speak to someone. There are two Wraiths that keep the house functioning, feel free to call upon them if you need anything." His face was shrouded in darkness as he frowned, walked to the hall and out the front door. 

You got up after him as best you could, still dizzy from whatever medicaiton they had given you. He stood on the front step only a few seconds before darkness enveloped his entire body. And you swore you saw a darker wall of wings envelope him before he was full shrouded.

  without a glance back he disappeared into a black shadow. Worry tugged at your stomach.

[nikarmy]

Equilibration ~ Prologue

Masterlist

Pairing: Waterbender! Jungkook x fem!Firebender Reader feat platonic!Bts

Genre: The Last Airbender Au, fluff, angst, kinda slowburn, s2l

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: judgemental stares in public, cursing, slight inner aggressiveness (how do you call that?), self hatred, mentions and descriptions of war,   childhood trauma, flashbacks, reader is insecure af, mentions of killed people and humans screaming out of fear,

The looks from the passengers started to intimidate you.

How should one react to unwanted attention? Stare back, insult them, ask them what's wrong, or put their powers to good use and knock them down? Fuck no. That's not the right thing to do.

But the old lady in the olive robe has been fixating her gaze on you since she entered the train, only stopping her inspection when a young man offered his seat to her 5 minutes ago. Unfortunately, as soon as she made herself comfortable on the metal bench, she restarted her action.

Her face looks remarkably punchable to you right now.

Red was never your favourite colour.

In fact, you despise it, even though it perfectly described you.

Anger, Aggressiveness and Harshness. Perhaps that's why you've been considered as a prodigy and as one of the most gifted trainees back in the fire nation. You are basically the embodiment of the hot flames, symbolizing destruction and war.

You hate it. And now your red attire made you hate the colour even more, as the result was having judging looks on you all the time.

Teachers, parents and elders of the fire nation always tell stories and legends about the benders of their kind, emphasizing their heroic actions, and everyone listens to them attentively.

Although you know these stories by heart, you longed for more, for a view outside of the borders that separate your people from the other elements.

You read folk stories of waterbenders, earthbenders and airbenders, satisfying your curiosity by practically studying their culture.

But the more you learned about the peaceful water tribe, the disciplined people of the earth kingdom and the imaginative

air nomads, the more you felt ashamed about the fire nation, about yourself.

The insecurities grew as your father forced you to join the military as a soon – to – be soldier at the tender age of 8. He wanted to “use your abilities to good use”, so you just went with the flow and trained along with other talented students, destined to end the war in a brutal way and make their parents proud.

Years went by, and not too long ago, marking a week now to be exact, you went on your first “mission” to a city of the earth kingdom, whose name you don't even know, to occupy them and take over their land in a brutal way.

The pictures of killed people and destroyed houses are engraved to your brain, highlighted by the destructive flames surrounding a once peaceful town. You'll never forget the children screaming on top of their lungs and the parents begging for their lives.

The next sleepless nights you sat at your desk and started making plans on how to escape the fire nation, whilst writing a goodbye note to your family and trying to persuade them to not search after you.

And now, days later, you are standing in a train to Ba Sing Se, not even having a clue on what to do next. Your backpack consists of a bottle of water, some sparing clothes (but still not much), your toothbrush and money.

Finally you hear the male voice on the speaker say the awaited words: “Ba Sing Se Central Station”. You leave out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding, glad to be at your destiny and also glad to get out of the stinking train with the rude old lady.

During your targetless walk through the city, you notice a lot of eyes on you, and to be honest, you don't blame them, you hate firebenders too.

So you guess a new start also means a new appearance, right? Luckily you walk past a thrift shop. Its appearance is very pretty, the building is made out of wood and warm tones, the curtains which could be seen behind the big windows were a light shade of green, above the small door you could see golden calligraphy spelling “Kim's Thrift Shop” in all it's pride. It's not modern, but it looks comfortable.

At exactly that moment you choose to enter and change your black and red attire to search for one with a colour that is much less hated, like blue, yellow or green.

Entering the shop you immediately face a young man behind the counter, and you swear you've never seen a more handsome human being before.

He had perfect features, his broad shoulders and his tall figure instantly catching your attention. His raven black hair was voluminous. He could easily pass as a prince.

As much as you drooled over him as a result of his striking lineaments, he looked at you, well, weirdly. That wouldn't surprise you if he looked at you like you were his enemy, just like the other people here, but he stared at you, like you were some kind of god. Like he is genuinely happy that you entered the store. His eyes light up with hope.

“FUCKING FINALLY! NAMJOON LOCK THE DOORS!”

What. The. Hell.

Never in your life have you been so confused. Does he want to kidnap you? Oh fuck he wants to kill you.

The only logical thing to do right now is turning around and leave the shop. And you do just that.

But as soon as you can grab the door knob with your right hand, another one holds it, preventing you from fleeing.

You look who this hand belongs to, and next to you stands a man with blue hair and tan skin. His biceps and height frighten you and you realize that you're in big trouble. He has a tight hold on your forearm and leads you to the backroom of the shop in a quick pace, behind you the black haired cashier.

The backroom looked comfortable, the carpeted floor creating a cozy feeling. But the atmosphere was the complete opposite.

Here you stand, surrounded by five boys. You inspect each other and you realize that two of them are airbenders.

There stands the cashier, then your eyes land on the guy who held your forearm as if his life depended on it, and a third guy who sat on the sofa. His appearance was remarkably charming, full lips, blond hair, round face and soft features, he was quite short compared to the others. All three of them have green clothing on, so you assume that they are earthbenders.

But what really catches your attention are the last two guys. They wear yellow and red robes, both of them having a blue arrow drawn through the middle of their foreheads.

You've never seen an airbender before.

“So umm sorry if we scared you back there” the blue haired guy interrupts your thoughts. “But we are really desperate for someone like you right now”

“Someone like... me?” You curiously ask.

“Yes. The guy there..”

he points to one of the airbenders. The boy has wavy dark hair and as soon the blue guy mentions him he flashes you a cute boxy smile.

“This is Tae. Short for Taehyung. He is someone special. You see, for how long has the last avatar died?”

“70 years ago.” you reply. It's true, Avatar Aang died many years ago, and that at the time the world needed him the most. If he was still here, the war could have been prevented before it even escalated.

“Yeah” he answered “Tae is the next one”.

You gasp lightly and feel your eyes coming out of their sockets from having them wide open in shock.

The avatar is standing right  in front of you.

“And we are searching for different benders who can teach him in all the elements. See, we kind of established a secret alliance against the Fire Lord, to end the war. He already knows that the avatar came back and is searching for Tae like crazy, we had to move out of our hidings four times now because he always managed to find us. Now we have to find teachers quickly, the sooner the better. Tae has to learn to be a great avatar so he can fight against the Lord. We thought we would never find someone from the Fire Nation, but then you came. Are you a firebender?”

“Yes?”

“Perfect, you're exactly who we're looking for. We'll cut you a deal. Since we assume you're not a spy, we ask you to be Taes teacher in mastering the art of firebending. In return, you'll get to live with us and we'll give you food for free. Jin is a great cook. I know this is a lot of information to handle right now, but what do you think?”

You didn't even think twice about it. Even though you don't know these guys, what do you have to loose? It's not like you had plans anyway. And stopping the fire nation seems to be just the right thing for you right now. And finally you can use your skills to good use, not for war.

“I'm in.”

Later you get introduced to all of them. The Avatar, Taehyung, is an airbender, and you swear you've never seen someone who behaves this childish before. But it's not a bad childish, in fact, it makes you feel jubilant. Maybe because his bright ambience makes up for the childhood you never had, the childhood you spent in training and learning that brutality is the way to power, and power is everything.

The guy with the blue hair is Namjoon, an earthbender and Taes teacher in that field. He seems like the leader of the group, always explaining and answering your questions.

The black haired handsome guy is Jin, a nonbender. He felt very excited when you said yes to joining them.

The other airbender is Hobi and also Taes teacher, the first thing you realize about him is his very contagious smile.

The blond dude is Jimin, a nonbender who is from an earth kingdom village.One day he knocked on their door of the shop and wanted to thrift there. But instead of finding clothes, he started talking to Tae who sat behind the counter. The Avatar liked him so much that he insisted on having him join the “Gang”.

The thrift shop actually belongs to Jins aunt, and sometimes, when he's in Ba Sing Se, he has to work here. It's also a good place to hide from the Fire Lord.

“So we need a waterbender too?” you examined.

“Yes” Namjoon was the only one to answer again “We have to travel to one of the tribes to find one. It won't be that hard.”

a/n: Thanks for reading! I would like to apologize if it’s bad, I’m not very content with my writing style, but I am working on it, since it’s my first fic and I have a long way to go:) What do you think?

[bluescluelessly]

Can we see Obi-wan getting the hugs he deserves? (preferably gen)

[Rating: T] || [tw: slavery mention]

For once in his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi is eager to get to a medbay. As Ahsoka breaks off to speak with the Togrutan Governor, he splits off with Plo and Anakin's group, following them as his former padawan and his fellow council member discuss the reconstruction and relief efforts the Republic will be making.

He keeps a smile on his face, his shoulders up, back straight, and barely listens. He gives his input where it's asked for, nods approvingly at what they say, and then at the first break in conversation, he begs off. "Ah- you two certainly have things handled from here. I think Helix might kill me if I don't have have my shoulder looked at, so if it's all the same, I'll leave you to it."

He gives them both a quick nod and farewell, then follows the steady stream of clone troopers and (former) Togrutan slaves towards the medbay on Plo Koon's flagship. As he walks, he recognises several refugees who were direct victims of his attempts to 'help'. He averts his eyes after that, unable to bear the weight of the guilt he feels for their suffering.

At least no more will suffer for his attempts to make things better. But that isn't true, is it? The great and terrible General Kenobi, bringing peace to world after world by force. He goes where the war does... or perhaps war follows hot on his heels.

No. Focus. Mind clear, eyes ahead.

His posture goes rigid, eyes fixating forward and catching on the nearest Togrutan victim. She's limping, clearly struggling to walk...

She needs help. He could go up to her, offer her his good shoulder to lean on--

The ghostly buzzing of an elecrowhip stings his ears, and he flinches irrationally.

He has to duck into an empty hallway for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning against a wall. The cold durasteel against his forehead helps, mostly.

He must get ahold of himself.

Why can't he move past these feelings? Why won't the Force accept his guilt, let him release it. Why is it so different from last time?

He's been a slave before... he remembers it, if only vaguely. A month spent on bandomeer, an explosive collar 'round the slight neck of his 13 year old self.

It hadn't hurt so much, then.

What makes this encounter so different? What-- no, don't think about it, don't think don't thinkdon'tthink---

Obi-Wan stays there for a moment, frozen as he's torn between trying not to think and trying to force himself to move past this moment. He still needs to get to the medbay.

It takes longer than he would like to admit to collect himself. Once he has, Obi-Wan leaves the hallway, rejoining the procession to the medbay. Meditation and rest, that's what he needs. He'll be fine once he has that.

Meditation and rest, that's all. Right foot, left foot. Keep going, down the hall.

He almost doesn't notice when he reaches his destination, eyes downcast. He's just become part of the flow of people around him, head down, feet dragging as exhaustion creeps in on him.

The only tell that he's entered the medbay is the sight of the threshold as he crosses it, and the sound of gruff clone voices guiding people where they need to be.

Finally, his head lifts, and he takes in the sights around him.

Dozens of Togruta are scattered around the room in varying degrees of distress. He feels tears begin to sting his eyes as he sees a man laid face down, still as death while a medic cleans the electrolash wounds on his back and lekku. The wounds must hurt terribly to be touched, but the elderly Togrutan simply doesn't have the energy to flinch as each lashing is sterilized and then covered with a bacta strip.

His eyes fixate on that one man, frozen to the spot. He doesn't move, not until he feels a hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch from the suddenness of it.

The clone who touched him immediately lets go, seeming shocked by his reaction. "General Kenobi, sir," the man says, and Obi-Wan belatedly recognizes him as Wolffe, Plo's Commander. "Are you here for medical assistance?"

It takes Obi-Wan's brain a second to catch up to the present. "I- er. Yes. My shoulder--" he cuts off, which he knows is unlike him. Glancing around the room, he hedges slightly. "It can wait. You have more pressing injuries to tend to."

"Nonsense, sir." Wolffe says, jerking his head to indicate that Obi-Wan should follow him before he walks along the medbay. "We have plenty of beds and hands to go 'round. I'll get you settled and a medic will take a look at your shoulder. Anyways, I know Helix would have my head if I let you sneak away the one time you voluntarily come to a medbay, sir."

The point makes a tense smile crack across his face. Clearly, his medical officer has a reputation even outside of the 212th and 501st. "Commander, don't tell me you're scared of Helix," he manages to tease.

"Scared?" Wolffe asks, the brow of his blinded eye arching judgementally. "That maniac took down half a dozen droids with just his medkit once. I'm terrified, and frankly, sir, you'd be wise to fear him too."

Obi-Wan remembers that. The infirmary tent was ambushed, and by the time Obi-Wan got back to assist, those in the tent had it handled already. Between Helix and those troopers who were still conscious and able to shoot, the ambush was soundly reduced to scrap metal.

Hm. Perhaps he should be more wary of igniting his medic's ire.

"... point taken, Commander Wolffe." Obi-Wan responds, letting himself be led to an empty bed.

There are still plenty more open, so as Wolffe said, his worries of taking up someone else's space are unfounded. Obi-Wan winces as he pulls himself onto the bed, making his shoulder light up with pain. He brushes off any offer of help however, his heartbeat jumping irrationally at the prospect.

Once he's settled on his bed, Wolffe calls over a free medic, and then bids him farewell, moving on to the next person in need of help.

His wounds (far more extensive than just the shoulder, but nothing critical) are quickly cataloged by the junior medic, then he is given some water and told to relax.

He doesn't, not quite.

It's downright impossible for him to really calm his mind, but he is exhausted. After several stretches of time spent staring listlessly at the ceiling and not thinking, Obi-Wan manages to fall into a restless sleep. (... With the aid of the water and a couple pills left as an option to him.)

°|●*.•

When he wakes again, there is a hand on his back, shaking him.

Obi-Wan jolts, involuntarily shuddering at the touch before he forces himself to be more awake. He's still in the medbay, the smell of bacta and sterilizer gives that away. His face is wet, though. Did they need to put bacta on--

Oh, no, those are his tears.

"Obi-Wan," a voice he recognizes as Anakin's cuts through the fog of his sleep-addled mind.

He manages a grunt, then rolls on his back and props himself up using his good shoulder. His other still hasn't been tended to, so he can't have been here that long.

"Anakin?" He greets, quickly wiping the tears from his face. He must have been crying in his sleep-- nothing new, at least in recent times. He's not sure exactly what it was for, but it isn't hard to imagine. There are plenty of tearworthy tragedies in this room alone.

There's a little bit of awkwardness as Anakin appears to have difficulty finding something to say, so Obi-Wan helps. "I thought you'd be busy still. I know there's still so much to do... I apologize for slacking."

Anakin shakes his head quickly, looking like he wants to reach out before thinking better of it, given how Obi-Wan flinched as he woke. "There's not much, really. Our part is pretty much over, we're just supposed to rest and recover." He pauses, unsure. "Are you okay? You were crying."

The older Jedi's shoulder begins to ache, so he pulls himself up to sit properly and lean against the headboard. He hasn't had a chance to change-- his clothing is still torn, and smells of the filthy mineshaft, and smoke.

"I'll be fine," he promises, eyes downcast as he prays it will be true. "There is so much pain in the force, I can't quite help a few tears." That is far from the true reason, but he hopes it is enough to satisfy Anakin's curiosity.

“A few tears,” Anakin repeats, voice oddly flat. His shoulder twitches in another aborted attempt to reach out. “Obi-Wan... you were sobbing.” The elder Jedi’s gut drops as he listens. “You wouldn’t wake up, they called me here to see if I could help.”

It’s only then that Obi-Wan notices the pair of medics hovering nearby. He feels a sudden flush of embarrassment. Stupid. How could he be so idiotic as to sleep in such a public place, knowing he would have nightmares?

He should have gone back to his quarters first...

Only, the 212th is still several hours away, and he was so exhausted...

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, fighting the ridiculous urge to hug himself. He is a Jedi Master, a Council member.

Anakin is shaking his head. “What? Why? Obi-Wan, are you sure you’re okay?”

He isn’t. “You shouldn't have needed to cone down here to wake me up. I... I'm alright. It was just a nightmare."

"Master," Anakin starts firmly, and moves a little closer, feeling bold. "First of all, I was gonna come see you anyways, so you didn't... inconvenience me, or whatever ridiculous thing you're thinking. Second, if you're hurting, I don't care what work I have, I'm gonna come to help you."

Obi-Wan's knee-jerk reaction is to think about how very against the code that is. Worryingly so. But that thought is quickly overridden by the warmth he feels upon Anakin's declaration of loyalty, of unconditional friendship.

What did he ever do to deserve a padawan with such a gentle heart?

Obi-Wan relaxes a bit, for the first time in days. "... thank you, Anakin." He finally responds, letting out a breath he feels he's been holding for weeks.

"I mean it," Anakin insists. "No thanks needed." He pauses, and Obi-Wan thinks he can sense a faint buzzing from Anakin's mind.

He can tell his former Padawan is trying to send him reassuring, comforting feelings through the force... he's radiating protective warmth like an emotional space heater. If Obi-Wan felt ready to share the state of his own mind, he would be basking in it.

As it is, he keeps his mind and force signature firmly closed off.

No need to show Anakin the horrors within.

As Obi-Wan struggles to think of something to say, Anakin appears to grow impatient. He clearly has questions, and he's never quite been the type to hold off on them, regardless of timing.

"Master... I don't..." he stops, having difficulty phrasing his question. "I mean. You don't cry... ever. What happened? What was your nightmare about? If... if you're okay with talking about it."

Obi-Wan almost laughs, but the sound sticks in his throat, becoming a choked noise.

What was he crying about? Look around, Anakin. The answer should be obvious, he wants to say.

He doesn't, though. He knows they've been in similar situations before, rescuing the citizens of Ryloth, for one. He didn't cry then, so why would now be any different?

Anakin's last concession sticks in his mind, though. Is he ready to talk about it? Can he bring himself to?

No.

Force, no. He can't even think about it.

His hand flutters awkardly as he struggles to find a place for it, resisting his urge to hug himself. "I... not right now, Anakin."

It's not a never, though. Obi-Wan knows... intellectually he knows that Anakin would understand. That, of everyone he knows, Anakin, a former slave and fellow Jedi, would understand the damage done to him. He may even have suggestions for how to help.

"Okay," Anakin hides his disappointment to the best of his ability. Obi-Wan appreciates the attempt, even if he sees through it. "... when you're ready, Obi-Wan. I'll be here, whenever you need me to listen."

The assurance brings a wan smile to Obi-Wan's face. "... I'll find you when I am, dear one."

No one can make Obi-Wan feel quite as safe and at ease as Anakin does.

The younger Jedi beams at the promise, moving a little closer. "Since you're not in a talking mood, want me to tell you how my part of the mission went, Master?"

The change of subject is a releif. Obi-Wan nods readily, happy to listen to Anakin's impromptu and likely dramaticized mission report.

He listens with rapt attention as Anakin goes through all of what he considers were 'the fun parts', making jokes and blowing quite a few details out of proportion.

It takes Obi-Wan's mind off his own experience, and he finds himself smiling along as Anakin finishes his story. By the end of it, Anakin is sitting on the edge of his bed, his thigh pressed along Obi-Wan's through the sterile sheets.

"Hey, Master?"

The epithet draws Obi-Wan's attention, and he nods to indicate Anakin shoukd go on.

Anakin is... a little hesitant. "Is it okay if I touch you? I wanna give you a hug, but not if it'll make you uncomfortable."

The question makes Obi-Wan's heart swell, and he finds himself nodding even before he consciously decides. "Anakin... yes, of course. I think we both could use one, after this mission."

Once again, Anakin beams, his force signature liked a supernova of happiness as he surges forward, wrapping his arms tight around Obi-Wan. "Yeah. And good, because I'm not letting go anytime soon, old man."

Obi-Wan ignores the pain in his shoulder. It's nothing compared to the warmth and security he feels right now in Anakin's embrace. He feels... cared for, loved, appreciated. All of the things that slave camp stripped from him.

It's gonna be okay, he realizes. This will pass, because he has Anakin here to help him make things right. When they're together, no challenge is too great, no problem is unsolvable.

Just as he's relaxing into the hug, getting comfortable for the duration, he hears quick footsteps and a gasp.

"Masters!" Ahsoka greets them cheerfully. "I just came to see how you're doing-- I didn't know it was hug Master Obi-Wan day! Can I have one too?"

"Get in here, snips," Anakin says, lifting an arm to make space for her.

"Always room for one more," Obi-Wan agrees more mildly, also making space to accommodate their padawan.

Ahsoka doesn't need to be told a third time; she squishes herself tight into the embrace, hugging both her teachers with all the strength in her limbs.

"We should hug more often," she says decisively.

"Definitely," Anakin agrees.

And well, Obi-Wan woukd say he's outnumbered, but he would agree either way. "We should," he responds softly, hugging them both a bit tighter.

They're a family, and he couldn't ask for a better one.