#it was meant to be something else! and then it fit the prompt lol

[writing-whump]

Sol, consider this little scenario - pups training goes more or less like planned, but then Dylan puts himself (involuntarily even?) in some kind of *situation* with human locals (alcohol included?) - what causes an outburst of protectiveness in Rip.🔥 (remembering his background ...) And then, of course, brothers have to deal with all this mess. 🙃

I would love to see some Rip POV. 👀

🐾.

Holding the beast

Really cool prompt, thank you! :D Some Isaiah pov at the start, then Rip's.

"Stay loose until the moment of impact, Rip. The tension slows you down," Isaiah said.

Hector gave him an angry look. "Oh, he will get it when he loses. Shut up."

Isaiah rolled his eyes. At least arrogant remarks like that made Isaiah feel a bit better about giving someone advice against his own brother. "Break his rhythm. You are letting him decide the beat of the whole fight."

Rip was breathing hard, but he was still light on his feet. Hector didn't bother moving around that much, standing his ground instead. Perfect target.

Isaiah could tell it was confusing for Rip's shadow that someone would just invite him to be for an attack.

Matthew was panting behind them, though he seemed the least tired conditionally, the way his muscles were in constant tension were a big tell of how exhausting the focus was.

Matt wouldn't let loose at all. Isaiah was tempted to just make a separate fight between the two of them to get his best friend of that painful holding back clench up he was in.

At first, Isaiah was a little worried about his stamina on the vacation. Meds or not, he was still weaker than he was used to, and he couldn't exactly push himself very much with Matt and Seline behind his back like that.

True to their word, Dylan and Seline knew about a beach behind the seaport lined up with rocks that was too uncomfortable and far away for most visitors. It had just enough space for the four of them to spar in and they could also use the shallow waters there.

It was September, so the beaches were way emptier than they should have been and completely empty during the cold mornings at 7 a.m. Hector, Matthew, Isaiah, Rip and Dylan made their way there every day. It was usually to tire Rip out, push him to his limits.

Hector didn't let Isaiah spar with Rip at all, effectively side-lining him to only watching. Was it part of the silent agreement to keep Isaiah from lifting a finger after the whole heart attack scare? Maybe Hector just enjoyed barking orders that much. Especially when he could override Isaiah.

As it was, Hector and Matthew then switched around in fighting, with and without shadows. Dylan tagged along, curious, but it was clear even to a newbie like him that he could no compete with the shadow level at display.

"Could I spar with Matthew then?" Dylan suggested feebly. While the kid was enthusiastic about physical combat, he was mesmerised by Rip's movements. Isaiah doubted Dylan could muster up enough focus for his own fight.

Surprisingly, Hector was rather gracious about the whole thing. He let Matthew and Rip spare after taking the first rounds for himself and then entertained Dylan with close-ranged hand-to-hand combat.

Dylan was good at boxing and in a good shape. Rip was out of shape since his injury, but the muscle memory and experience, adding with the sheer speed and harmony with his shadow were quite the combo.

He made Hector sweat, and that was something to see.

Rip had no formal training, which meant his style was unpredictable, dirty and deadly. It wasn't meant to be a friendly sparring with no results. His shadow kept aiming for deadly blows, completely out of control about intents in the midst of a fight.

Isaiah flinched several times when it happened, watching Hector like a hawk, ready to intervene. But Hector could hold his own.

Still, Isaiah would rather not let Rip spare with anyone else if he could help it. Not even Dylan...though Rip's shadow seemed incapable of attacking Dylan at all.

Strange dynamic.

Even in packs, fights were a healthy necessity. Training, play, negotiation of strength in the hierarchy, updating roles. It served all kinds of purposes, helping packmates recognize their strengths and weaknesses, improve and know what to cover in everyone's defenses during outsider fights.

There was usually something not working if two wolves couldn't have a sparring fight like that.

Not that Isaiah was an ideal example. He and Hector had to yet have a proper 'fight' since their reconciliation. Rip's shadow was way too aggressive around Isaiah, he didn't dare train Dylan directly with his lack of experience with huge shadows...

Honestly, the only one Isaiah sparred with regularly and enjoyed it with was Matthew. They have been able to do it since way back when. Isaiah couldn't remember their first friendly fight and didn't count them either. Another sign of how much he trusted him.

Maybe he should remind his second of that fact.

Matthew seemed…off. His red hair, plastered with sweat, curled in ways it usually didn’t, and the sunrise deepened the shadows under his eyes. Instead of challenging Hector, Matt followed his lead, letting him decide when to step in and when to stop.

Isaiah wondered if Matt wanted to be helpful that much that he had given up on any strategies of his own. If Hector was that overwhelming for him. Or if this was all done in the name of temporary truce to keep Isaiah from doing anything.

Hector's insistence with the training was puzzling. Isaiah couldn't find any signs that his brother was personally interested in the boy, even if he respected his skill.

Training with Hector was a special thing—as a branch leader he didn't gift that time and expertise to just anybody. Whoever Hector choose to spend attention on would count as his apprentice, as first in line for him to command, to trust, to give power to.

Doing this outside the pack? For a stray pup nonetheless? Impossible.

It was personally irritating to Isaiah that he couldn't quite tell what Hector was thinking. His ignorance and the years apart were painfully obvious in moments like these. He would have to swallow his pride and just ask Arnie about it.

If there was one comforting and not headache-inducing person in their little group, it was his girlfriend. Seline and her love for the sea.

"You can't tell me this isn't the true kind of magic. Witches and shadows are nothing compared to this," she told him on their walks.

She woke up early even though she liked to sleep in just to walk by the shore the wet sand and look over the tender waves of the morning stillness. Seaport was her second favourite place where she regularly showed him jellyfish and hundreds little fish swimming by the surface.

For a crowded sweaty sand beach, Isaiah had to admit the connection to nature was something very present. The sea creatures were everywhere, not shy around their human intruders. Somehow they accepted them as part of the world here, where the surface and the underwater collided. It was a welcome feeling for wolves.

When Seline wasn't swimming—her technique, polished from years as a competitive swimmer—she was walking along the shore or standing ankle-deep in the water, gazing at the horizon with a wistful smile.

Early mornings and evenings, when the beaches were still empty, she sang.

Witch magic resonating with something as vast as the sea was extremely difficult. Isaiah thought it was more sentimental than actually magical.

Except as the days went, he could see the waves responding to her. Speeding up and slowing at her command, with whatever rhythm she chose. The wind would pick up or still. The flow of the water would change, diving under, the colour darkening in strangely symmetrical shapes like triangles.

Thanks to her Isaiah didn't mind being sidelined that much. Walking hand in hand, enjoying lunch on the beach restaurants, exploring all the different beaches one after another while talking and talking...she didn't let him dwell on the training for too long. They discussed it, but their topics tended to get more abstract.

It was also a great way to get privacy since Hector only snarled and complained of useless nonsense whenever he tried to overhear.

Arnie didn't find the sea that fascinating. Actually, he spend most of the first week sulking. He woke up around noon, had lunch with them, trailed after Hector if he had nothing better to do or explored the town hotels. The historical little city of Nessebar had nice views and streets to offer. Arnie came with bags of souvenirs and clothes, cashmere scarfs and pelt coats.

Or he dragged Isaiah and Seline onto boat trips to all the nearest destinations. It was the three of them or Arnie at home with Hector binging some kind of show or two.

Isaiah wasn’t sure if Arnie avoided Dylan and Rip because they were younger or if it was something else. Back in the pack, Arnie would’ve been bullied without Hector’s protection. His sharp mouth developed to provoke reactions from people who otherwise ignored him. Isaiah used to worry about Arnie making friends. Seeing him grown and still isolated made it all too real.

"Ehmm...can I ask, how is this helping?" Dylan said, leaning towards Isaiah like it was a secret. "He was impressive before, so you making him better...is...eh?"

"I'm making him comfortable fighting with wolves with no stakes involved. Plus his shadow has a lot of pent up energy since the injury that needs an out."

Dylan grimaced at the word 'no stakes'. Of course, there were plenty of stakes for Dylan. None like the ones Rip was used to though.

Rip might have been improving through this, but he was also showing them how he worked. What he thought, fought and what he covered from. The best possible presentation of how to beat him.

But truly, Isaiah wanted to get to the core of the control problem. Safety, training, energy...what else was there? How much would it take for Rip not to feel threatened or to redirect that to the older wolves behind him than at the helpless people in front of him?

There was no logic to the fear and agression. That's what made it dangerous, tiptoeing on shadow madness.

Honestly, part of the training was also the vacation itself. Mundane situations. Eating food outside. Rediscovering the things Rip liked that had nothing to do with survival.

A decision had to be made.

Either Rip would trust them enough to stay, or he would leave. Both seemed equally likely.

Rip's human logical side wanted to please, heavy by debts and guilt. Yearning to succumb and to listen and be as little of a burden as possible.

The shadow side of him wanted to kill them.

It was convinced they were either going to hurt him or use him for something terrible as payment for the help. Every kind gesture felt like another trap.

Isaiah watched this and understood it more and more. That was the worst part for him: that his father could be kind and loving, that Isaiah had such great memories of him. He spent all his childhood wanting to be like him.

Moments of connection and conversations switching with the yelling, the pain and the humiliation. One face and then another, with no order, no way to tell what was coming next time.

Was it like that for you, too? Was your father a nice guy when he wasn't drunk? When he wasn't beating you up? Did he apologize afterwards? Was he a different person when the fit ended?

He couldn't ask something like that outright. But he caught himself wanting to. Hand outstretched, the question on his lips. Taking a breath and then shutting his mouth. It was so strange. Isaiah never talked about this with anyone. Never cared to. What good would it bring? If he wanted to cope, he could write a diary. Everyone else would be just hurt by what they heard.

Not Rip though. Watching him made Isaiah wonder if he could bring the kid any relief by simply understanding. Or maybe not. It wasn't like he could take the kid to therapy and his own studies didn't exactly specialise in wolves.

He would just have to wait and see.

...

By the time they walked from the beach to the apartments, Rip was exhausted. Physically, he felt good—his strength was returning, and every landed hit made him feel less helpless.

But there was also the other tiredness. The mental one, from decisions, from watching and being careful. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what these wolves wanted from him.

Was this all Dylan's doing? How could he believe that, when Dylan obviously had no power or influence over these wolves? Heck, he knew less about them than Rip did from the rumors.

Was this on Isaiah's orders? Doubtful. Hector Wolfson— who, by the way, didn't seem like a younger of anyone and anything, born strong and muscular and intimidating—was still figuring out too. His interest in Rip was superficial and conditioned by the Executioner's. Rip could tell as much.

Then what was he doing here? Was this an experiment? Charity? Who would have time and energy to spare for a nobody edging on craziness?

The idea they were, maybe possibly, unbelievably, good people doing him a favour made him feel bad. He had no way to pay this back.

The other option, that there was a secret intent behind this, made him feel worse.

His door wasn't guarded. His windows were open. He could run anyway he wanted. Bulgaria wasn't a bad place to start over. Corrupt little country that lived from tourism from the sea, filled with mafia families. He could disappear. The choas of the Balkan states, their disrespect for rules, the heated tempers of the people here—it made more sense than whatever this training was.

Rip found Dylan with his eyes, staring at his back. Dylan's little jumps as he walked couldn't be called walking at all. Always so much energy. So childish, so naive.

Rip grit his teeth. The third tiredness he felt was the rawness around his ribcage whenever he thought of Dylan. Of leaving him. Of staying with him. He was so innocent. But surely as he grew and gained the smartness to handle this world, he would come to understand who Rip was. Who he decided to save.

And then he would abandon Rip. Fair enough. The question was, should Rip wait around until that happened just to not feel any regrets?

"Finally!" Dylan stopped in his tracks, making Rip almost knock into him. "Ice cream. This looks good! Rip, want some?"

Rip cringed. They were going to disturb the formation.

The witch and the human brother went ahead to get them dinner. The Executioner and the Wolfson heir were at the front and the Executioner's Second trailed behind Rip and Dylan. Rip, really. Anyone could see how easy it was for Dylan to move between the tourists. Like he didn't notice they were humans.

Or maybe he forgot he was a wolf. Again.

A small smile tugged at Rip's lips. "Sure."

Dylan leaned over the ice creams where a very big and very bored looking man played with his phone. "Now want to pick...coconut, punch, pineapple, oreo, caramel, Nutella, chocolate, snickers..."

"Aren't the last three the same thing?" Rip stepped closer shaking his head.

"Of course not! Completely different flavours, man. Such a shame they don't have salty caramel, that one is the best-"

"What did you say?" The rough voice behind the ice creams startled them both.

"Ehmm, I was saying the ice cream-"

"You don't like my ice cream or what, you little punk?"

Rip hung back, separated from the human by the stand and Dylan, but the man’s tone made his hair stand on end. 'Let’s go, D,' he murmured, tugging Dylan’s arm.

"I didn't say that! I just meant that you don't have all the flavours popular at Sunny Beach or Nessebar right now, that's all." Dylan obviously didn't get the hint.

The guy's face went red. He made his way out of the stand, towering over both of them. "How dare you insult my ice cream, you-"

A shiver ran down Rip's spine despite the warm weather.

"It's just ice cream! What's the big deal?" Dylan said, rolling his shoulders. He was muscular and tall, but compared to the man he had a slim boyish figure. "You shouldn't be yelling at customers Mister, you will just chase them away-"

Why weren't the other wolves doing anything? Rip couldn't let himself check though. He couldn't drop his gaze from the man reaching his hand back to throw a punch-

There was a moment of darkness. Like a sudden hit of an eclipse. When Rip's vision returned, he was holding the guy's fist in his own in an iron grip.

The guy's large face was red with strain. He was pushing against Rip's palm with his whole body.

Rip felt a wave of repulsion so strong he thought he was going to be sick right in that moment.

He had not touched a human in years. His shadow was drilling its way out in the open. Rip couldn't let it. He couldn't let his shadow touch this person or he would be dead in a heartbeat.

Even so. He could not move away and risk him touching Dylan. That was the main priority.

He curled his fingers around the offending wrist in his hand. Just a slight twist and he could break it. He could make him kneel. He could rip the hand off in one smooth motion-

"What's the problem, sir?"

The Executioner's voice was smooth and calm, yet somehow snapped Rip's attention back to the present. The presence behind him radiated coldness, icy and intense. Alarming in the sunset heat.

"I-....He-...!" The guy was splattering for thoughts, obviously understanding how Rip felt. How could Isaiah say a word, sound that calm and scare the living consciousness out of someone?

A hand landed on his shoulder. It wasn't a friendly touch, but the bridge to the ice wastelands of the other world. Rip froze, stepping away at the same time as the guy stopped struggling, hand dropping to his side.

Isaiah snapped his fingers. "Take them home."

Then the steely grip on his shoulder turned Rip around. Back to the beach. Away from people, civilization, the easy summer vibes.

They didn't stop at the beach though. "Move. Up the hill, come on." Isaiah commanded.

And Rip listened. His body went on autopilot as he tried to keep his boiling shadow in check.

They went up the hill and then another one. It was just grass and bushes and a beautiful view of the water behind them. The combination of hills and the sea so typical of this landscape.

At the top of it, Rip was panting from running up for so long and so fast. He braced against his knees before dropping down to them.

He fucked up. He could have killed that man. Why would he go and try to start a fight over ice cream? Jesus, that made no sense.

Rip wrapped his hands around his head, bowing to the ground. The repulsion rolled through him, leaving sticky nausea behind. His skin was crawling under his sweaty shirt.

"I'm sorry," he managed to get out between unruly breaths. "I wouldn't have- I shouldn't have-"

"You better not," Isaiah agreed. "Don't think we are far enough for you to risk direct contact yet."

"I'm sorry." If Isaiah reconsidered and judged him too dangerous for this vacation—hell, for this city—he could kill him right there.

Was that why he wanted privacy?

Rip gulped down heavily, bile climbing up his throat.

"Wasn't your fault. That was extremely out-of-nowhere." Isaiah sighed. "Seline said people here have short tempers. And the whole area seems to be owned by some kind of mafia family. I underestimated the situation."

Rip dared to look up for a second. Was Isaiah apologizing or something?

"You have been doing well. You just need to build your confidence back up-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Rip interrupted. His shadow was wiggling and crying out, wanting to attack Isaiah for pretending like this was okay. "I know you must have noticed."

Isaiah pressed his lips together, hands crossed on his chest. "Your shadow's killing intent during the fighting? Yes." He sounded way too unconcerned about it.

"And just now. I did the same thing."

"Considering your backround, that was a trauma response more than anything else. You didn't even let your shadow up."

Rip froze, realizing that was true. While thinking about striking back and imagining it, he did it without reaching for his shadow first.

"It's okay. I won't let that happen again," Isaiah said. He sounded almost...soothing. Like Rip wasn't a murderer, a wild animal fit for killing, but a scared hurt child. Trauma response. Yeah, sure.

"Why- why bring me here?" If Isaiah wasn't about to kill him, what was the point?

Isaiah's shoulders dropped. "Let go."

"What?!"

"Just let go. It's safe from people. No one's watching. Don't...hold it in." He rubbed at his chest with one hand before making himself drop both at his sides. "I always did. It will add up and hurt you in some other way. Like the migraine, remember?"

Rip took a sharp breath, lowering his head again. What was that supposed to mean?

If he could do whatever he felt like doing, though...his body would have ideas. The waver in his will was enough for the hot bile to shoot up his throat. Rip retched into the grass, stomach muscles constracting violently.

His shadow whirled out and around at the same time as the second lurch brought up his lunch. He had a lot of food to bring up since he got under this weird pack's protection.

The waves of disgust and nausea rolled through him so intensely he forgot what he was supposed to be upset about. His skin burned and itched where he held the man's hand. His shadow clawed into the ground in a way Rip would be scared to look at. It was too furious. Out of control.

When he stopped convulsing over the ground with dry heaves, it was way after sundown, and violet darkness blanketed the beautiful view from the hill.

The Executioner was leaning against an old tree. Hands still crossed, expression unreadable. But his green eyes were clear and open. Attentive.

There was no yelling, threats, or critique. Somehow, the wolf's quiet presence didn't feel icy or overwhelming. He wasn't trying to be intimidating. Whatever he was trying to do, Rip didn't feel judged or evaluated. If anything, he felt empty. Hollowed raw.

But at least he didn't feel like exploding.

[finnbbl]

Hey, I saw your requests are open. Would you write something for 3Racha where something sad happens and the reader turns non-verbal to try and cope with it?

It's just a problem that I always have and I would like to know how you think the boys would react :)

3Racha when you’re nonverbal

3Racha Written

Prompt: Being friends with the main producers of a music group had its perks. But when you’re asked to accompany them a certain gathering, you hesitate when you figure out who will be there.

Genre: Angst/Comfort

Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Implications of trauma, alcohol and dr*g mention, I don’t think there’s any swearing, reader goes nonverbal.

A/N: I wanted to first start off by saying I apologize it took me a bit to get out. I’ve been in my own slump and I’ve found it super hard to find motivation for anything, especially writing and posting.

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a specific incident to happen where the reader goes non verbal, so I hope this is okay. I also wasn’t sure if you wanted it romantic or not, so I just kind of wrote what felt right in the moment. I tried to leave the situation vague so it could match with anyone’s experiences. I personally don’t like it too much (I honestly hate my writing so it could just be that LOL) so I can make a separate post with a text version, of course it would be a little bit different than this. Please let me know your thoughts 🙏

Requests - OPEN

Masterlist

Please read disclaimer in masterlist

Parties were the absolute worst. If you were forced to choose a least favorite thing on the planet, parties would be it. They’re loud and crowded; Worst of all, he’s always there.

3Racha had been nominated for an award. They had been invited to a big award show, a one where afterparties usually follow. You were incredibly proud of them, knowing just how hard they worked. They meant the absolute world to you, and to see them put their best foot forward and exceed tipped you over the moon. Previously, you’d turn them down when they’d ask you to attend with them, and you had a very good reason. Firstly, parties just weren’t your thing. You never fit in with everyone else growing up. Secondly, you knew that he was going to be there. You didn’t know what to call him. Putting a label on things had never felt right to you before. If someone were to ask him, he’d tell them you were together. But if someone were to ask you, you’d say it was complicated and you were content with how things were. You did that with everyone that seemed to be more than friends with you, commitment was a scary thing. But you did know that he was someone you never wanted to be around ever again.

You remember the way he’d always ask you to accompany him to one. He was the partier in the “relationship.” However, you’d always preferred to stay in. Nice and cozy in your blankets. One night, you decided to try and get out of your comfort zone. You wore something different, and put effort into your appearance. The moment he let his hand “accidentally” linger over your ass was the first sign of a mistake. The night only went downhill from there. Next thing you knew you were drugged and taken advantage of. It took you months to recover, months to find the will to get out of bed. Only Chan out of the three knew of this incident, but only very very vaguely. He only found out because he was the one nursing you back to your normal self again. You avoided giving him details, he doesn’t know the person, time, nor the place. You wanted to stick to using being tired as an excuse to politely turn them down. There was no way you could let them find out that you were just too weak to attend said gathering, especially because they don’t know what happened.

You listened to the boys explain how excited they were for this one. How this was such a big award, and how it was going to be so much different. The excitement that laced their voices made it hard for you to deny the question you knew was coming. “Do you think you could go with us this time?” They knew the answer every time they asked this question. A hesitant no, almost as if you were thinking about it. In reality, your mind was fighting off bad memories. It was hard not to think of it when even the topic was brought up, there’s no way you could bring yourself to revisit the place it happened. He was always going to be there, just like he was at every one while you knew him. Again, parties were his thing. So you were confident no matter which one you attended, he would be there. You were scared, to say the least. Scared of seeing him, scared of being pushed back into that dark room, scared of reliving what had made you feel so lifeless.

However, Han’s unintentional puppy eyes drew you closer and closer to the edge. How you wanted to see them happy. You weren’t sure if it was only platonic or if there was some hint of romantic feelings for them there, but you knew you loved them so much. Although the three knew the usual answer, they still proceeded to ask. They felt as they should always invite you, even if they know what your answer would be. However, this time you surprised them. With a quick purse of your lips, the words fell from your mouth. “Fine, but only this once.” The way their faces lit up when you agreed to go to with them brought a smile to your face. Though it quickly dissipated as your brain grabbed back at those awful memories. The guys were too lost in excitement to notice, but you’d prefer it that way. Everyone else had their own problems, so you hated adding your own on top of them.

The last few nights leading up to the award ceremony were filled with anxiety. Sleepovers with Chan were a mutually agreed way to get both of your minds off of stress. However your anxiety still managed to claw its way through what was supposed to be a comforting barrier with him. Chan was next to you, fast asleep which was something that was rare for him. Meanwhile, you silently cried next to him. Hours passed and you were still unable to fall asleep, too busy fighting off the horrible memories. Horrible memories of a time in your life that left you numb. You couldn’t shake it, knowing that he was going to be there. He was a popular artist, and you’d already checked the lineup for the event. His name was there, and now you were petrified. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you changed your mind. They were so excited, so you dealt with it.

The night of the party arrived. You’d isolated yourself for the day, hoping to prepare yourself enough for what was about to come. Hours passed and next thing you knew you were sat between Chan and Changbin on a fancy couch. Despite it being a fancy event, Han sat on the back of the couch with his feet on either side of you, his hands slowly running through your hair. It was a common thing for you to do with the three, often being very touchy with each other. It was to the point where you questioned if you were more than friends. While you didn’t kiss, or do anything beyond that, you were very hands on. Cuddling, hugging, playing with each others hair or outfits, you name it. However, you couldn’t decipher whether it was platonic or if there was a hint of romance in there.

Suddenly, an all too familiar voice snapped you out of the peaceful thoughts that managed to distract you for.. at least a little while. Soon enough, your worst fear of the night happened. He placed himself on the couch right across from you guys. The first 20 minutes or so, he had the subtlety evil smirk on his face.

However, you knew it would dissipate sooner or later. Based on your experience with him, he was an extremely jealous person. And given, how important skin-ship was to you and the three boys, it was only a matter of time. It happened when Han noticed you were quieter all of the sudden. His fingers came to a slow stop in your hair to travel down to your shoulder. His head leaning down to your ear to whisper something.

“Are you alright, jagiya?”

It was quiet, quiet enough where only those within a 3 inch radius could hear. So you wonder why you saw that man who you feared, drop his smirk to a frown. Maybe he read Han’s lips and noticed the word ‘jagiya’ ? Either way, you ignored it, and with a nod and a small smile which was noticeably forced, you brushed off Han’s worries insisting you were just tired. Changbin took notice of his member’s concern, and leaned in close to reassure you that the event would be over soon. You gave him the same smile and quietly thanked him.

Thats when he suddenly started staring daggers at you from across the room, his hand clenching onto the almost empty soju bottle. He was drunk, for sure. That had to have been the scariest part. It only added more fuel to the fire, you were silenced. Except nothing was physically stopping you from speaking. Your head dropped down, staring at your nails that now started to dig into the palms of your and in an attempt to quiet the voices in your mind. It was a bad habit you picked up when you got anxious. Recently, it’d been worse so you currently had crescent shaped markings left behind on the center of your hand. Han noticed the tension in your body, and leaned down to express his concern once again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re very tense.”

No response. As much as you wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, you couldn’t. It felt as if your throat was closing up, you couldn’t speak or move. You were anxious, overstimulated and all you wanted to do was jump out of the window. Anything to escape.

Your eyes were now staring daggers into the floor, and your body was completely still. Did you even hear him? He wondered at your lack of response, however it didn’t take long for him to pick up on it. But before he could say anything else, Chan’s hand gently but swiftly grabbed yours. Holding your hands in such a way that your nails couldn’t fight their way through your skin again. Chan was a very observant person, so it didn’t take him very long to notice the marks on your hands. That’s when Han recognized what was going on, Changbin following in their suit not but a few moments later. Once again, Han leaned down to say something. He was well aware that you were nonverbal right now, but he said it anyways hoping you could at least muster the energy to tell him you wanted to leave. You suddenly felt a hand on either shoulder, which were now rubbing soothingly into your tense muscles. “Do you want to leave? Chan still has to say his goodbyes to everyone, but I can take you outside.” This sentence was whispered into your ear, and the word ‘leave’ sparked your attention. You nodded almost too eagerly.

With that, Han motioned for you to stand up, saying something to you excuse yourselves. Chan let your hands slip out of his, looking over at his band mate and Changbin to silently communicate everyone would be leaving soon. You were unsure of what he said, now focused on not making eye contact with a certain someone right across from you. The closer to you that Han got, the more anger you could feel emitting off of the man in front. That only left you more anxious. Suddenly, Han put his arm around your waist gently to guide you out. The anxiety started to die down as you stepped out of the building, but the tears you were fighting didn’t. “You okay?” Han softly questioned as your eyes looked up to meet his. It took him not but a brief moment to notice your glossy eyes. He immediately pulled you in for a hug, which caused you to break down. Still unable to speak, you only mumbled out incoherent words that the male tried so hard to pick up on. Fortunately for him, he was able to make out a few words which told him everything he needed to know.

You felt unsafe is what it was. Although he wasn’t sure why, it was a step. Han would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t sense anger and tension in the room. The reason was what he couldn’t figure out. His head rested on yours, gently rocking you back and forth hoping to calm you down. Suddenly the door opened, but you remained still. As Chan and Changbin walked over, your breathing began to slow down. “Sorry n/n, I did my best to get us out as soon as possible. They don’t know when to shut up.” Chan apologized and rubbed his hand up and down your back. “Come on, we’ll talk later. Let’s get her out of here.”

Once you all arrived home, everyone went to their dorms. Except you stayed back at Chan and Jeongin’s. Although the younger was in the middle of a brand deal, which left you and the latter alone in the dorm. The trio agreed it would be better if you stayed with one of them for the night, so they decided on the leader’s as it would be the calmest. Your body lay next to him on his comfortable mattress, the lights set to a soft and comforting purple color with the tv playing a movie on the lowest volume. The male laying next to you, with his hand running up and down your back. Your eyes followed the movements of the character on the screen, but your brain wasn’t absorbing any of the plot. It was obvious this was a difficult night for you, but Chan just had to know.

“Feel free to not answer, I know you’re still not in a talking mood..” He led on, and your head raised to make eye contact with him. “Was that the guy… from you know.”

You did know, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Your facial features remained still, looking back and forth between both of his eyes as you mustered up the energy to get some form of response out. With that, you only nodded before turning back to the movie. Chan could swear he felt his heart break and everything suddenly clicked in his mind. If he had known it would only cause you anxiety, then he wouldn’t have pestered you to go for so long. “I am sooo sorry y/n.” His other arm found its way around you as he rested his head on yours. “We wouldn’t have pressed so hard if we knew what was going on.”

Although you didn’t respond, your hand found its way to his and gave him a light squeeze to reassure him that it was okay. “I know I don’t know the whole story but you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling, alright?” A small smile formed on your lips and your head nodded against his, nuzzling further. He let out a light and squeaky giggle as he ran his fingers over your knuckle gently. It was in this moment that you realized it was all going to be okay.

[cross-crye]

𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰

summary: twst & hsr charas with different soulmate au prompts that i think would fit them

incl: azul ashengrotto, idia shroud, malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, aventurine, blade, jing yuan, sunday

wc: 0.9k

a/n: after an absolutely horrific year i'm finally back to writing!! got half a lifetime's worth of lore in what is essentially 2/3 of a school year lol. but hey at least i got some new lore, so what better way to celebrate that then writing abt my fave au?

monochrome vision

Even the most powerful of beings weren't immune to the effects of the passage of time. After spending such a longevous existence in solitude, enduring loss after loss at every step of the way, he becomes resigned to the notion of forever living in a grey-scale world. Perhaps he wasn’t meant for such luxuries. Perhaps he was one of the unlucky few who was condemned to a live barren of companionship and deeper meaning. He could only wonder in the late hours of the night, or in the lonely moments trapped within his own mind while sitting at his desk: ‘Just what sins have I committed in a past life in order to earn this karma?’ Imagine his surprise upon upon realising that perhaps he wasn’t fated for eternal despair and desolation, and that perhaps, he himself had a chance to experience true joy. As colours bloomed in front of his eyes for the first time in his life, one so long others would struggle to count it, all he could think was that perhaps it had truly all been worth it as he gazed at you, forever ingraining the details of your visage deep inside his memory, to be forever treasured as the face of his saviour.

lilia vanrogue; jing yuan

matching tattoos

Wearing long sleeves, covering up despite the less than optimal weather for such attire, developing and maintaining a preference for the indoors as soon as the temperatures start to rise; anything to keep that damned mark hidden away. If nobody sees it, it doesn’t exist. If nobody can spot it and remark a similarity, then its not there. As long as he can keep hiding the mark, he can keep denying the existence of his soulmate. To bear a curse such as his is an already horrific fate, he couldn’t allow himself burden anyone else with it. It was like a plague, it would only continue to spread and affect others, drag them down to the depths of despair; and for what? He couldn’t let his feeble desire for companionship be the reason somebody else lost their humanity. Yet when he found himself doubting his philosophy after bandaging your cut shoulder blades (curtsy of having fallen into a thorny thicket on your earlier walk that he begrudgingly joined you on) Spotting the familiar mark on you was something he hadn’t ever expected. His companion and dear friend had been his soulmate all along, a shocking revelation which had caused him to impulsively lift his own sleeves and point to the matching pair.

blade, idia shroud

interacting within dreams

That’s what you were to him, a dream. Something he could only long for and yearn with the entirety of his soul yet fail to reach every time he tried. Despite not having even see your face due to the dream’s magic, your presence was deeply ingrained in his heart. He had envisioned you so many times, imagined what you’d look like, wondering if you’d look as beautiful as you sounded. You would overtake every waking moment, for his dreams were no longer enough, he would daydream about you, and play your voice in his mind on loop, all he desired was to suffocate in your presence and truly surround him in a way his dreams of you never could. He memorised everything about you, from what you mentioned to eat for breakfast to your aspirations and moral philosophy. If simply thinking of you hard enough would have brought you to life, you would have been born anew countless times. He could only live on in a prison of longing of his own making, every moment increasing his desperation to finally meet you and escape his mediocre existence. His obsession ran so deep he could perfectly render your voice in his head and hear you talk to him of thinks you hadn’t yet said. He thought he’d finally driven himself mad with yearning, hearing your voice while awake even when he hadn’t been the one to picture it, only to turn to see you for the first time, the image of perfection that even he couldn’t have dreamt, finally complete.

malleus draconia, sunday

countdown until first meeting

The little wristwatch was what kept him going, seeing the numbers go down was his motivation to go on, giving himself a purpose despite his lack of one in others’ eyes. Knowing that out there there was somebody who could truly understand him, who could see his worth and achievements in light of his struggle. Early on he had been victim of the critique and ridicule, but the hope of one person’s existence in contrary to this fuelled him to keep going. To strive to be better, to do something better with the unfortunate cards he was dealt. What worth other’s pinned on him no longer mattered, and as long as the ever-changing numbers on his wrist would continue to decrease he’d continue to prove the world wrong about their initial perception of him. All his life’s work amounted to this, the fateful meeting with who was supposed to be his one true love. As he continued down the winding streets of the town he could only anxiously stare at his wrist, taking note of the handful of hours left. His distracted state however, lead to him making the wrong turn and the counter adjust itself, not even letting him take in the shock of seeing that it had now only read a couple of seconds as he immediately collided into somebody, gripping the stranger’s shoulders to maintain his stability. Neither of you processed the beeping sound of your timers as you gazed in each other eye’s awestruck at finally meeting your soulmate.

aventurine, azul ashengrotto

cross-crye © 2024.

no reposting, stealing, copying, translating my works or feeding them to AI

reblogs, comments and likes are all highly appreciated

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Could you do either Daryl D or Dean W for Secret Child? I feel like these two would fit that one greatly lol.

.⋆｡Moonlight｡⋆.

7k Follower Bingo

Daryl Dixon x plus size reader

Who knew the end of the world would finally bring you back to the man who gave you everything and nothing before leaving?

Warnings: mom!reader, secret kid, abandonment and its associated issues, swearing, angst, no walkers but mentions of them, prison!era, short but I might do a part 2 WC: 1.7k Minors DNI Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Fear and rage were not new emotions for you, in fact, they were old friends that loved to overstay their welcome. Yet, for mch of your life, you were grateful for that festering fire that never quite seemed to die; when your father decided that he no longer wanted to be a father, abandoning you at the ripe age of 7; when bullies relentlessly tortured you for nearly a decade; and especially when the man you thought loved you with all his heart vanished after you finally slept with him, leaving you with a void in your soul and his baby in your belly. Fear and rage were there for you, forcing you back to your feet, despite the physical or mental hurt, and pushed you forwards until all you had left was your anger.

And your baby.

“Mama.” A little hand wrapped around the front of your throat, choking you just enough to get your attention.

“Yes baby?” You delicately moved her hand down to your collarbone where her chubby fingers danced along your skin. She hummed against your back, inevitably wiping her nose on your shirt. You continued scrounging through the bin of clothes at the back of the mechanic shop you had stumbled across, waiting for her to find her words. Luna was getting too big for the meagre stash of toddler clothes you had grabbed before your apartment was overrun, so repurposing coveralls would have to do until you could find something else.

“Gonna eat home?” You pulled a smallish jumpsuit from the bin, should be easy enough to cut up to vaguely fit her. You tossed it towards the hiking backpack you were using for your things.

“Maybe. What do you think? Should we sleep over in a house or do some camping?” She liked ‘camping’, she got to stay up late, look at the stars and play the quiet game until she fell asleep in your arms. You had been lucky the past couple weeks, finding abandoned houses with enough canned food to last until the next one so it had been a while since you had to sleep in a car or on top of a truck with your baby. 

A little leg kicked at your side, quickly getting restless in her carrier. “Houz.” 

“Ok. House it is. What colour is it gonna be?” You bit back a groan as you straightened up, even after months of carrying her like this practically all day, your back still had yet to adapt. 

“Don’t know mama. Purgle?” You smiled despite the gnawing anxiety at the base of your skull. How long would this lucky streak last? How long would you be alone, raising your daughter in a world that was now only blood and pain? 

“Hmm purple. That would be very pretty. Do you think this purple house will have a…” You prompted as you took a step towards the bag, grabbing Luna’s foot playfully. Her tiny sneaker that was so cute it made your ovaries hurt, kicked against your palm as she half-heartedly attempted to escape your grasp.

“Book!” She squealed and redoubled her efforts to escape her prison. You laughed under your breath, of course that’s what she wanted most. Books were sacred to your little Luna considering you could only carry one or two at a time, she loved her bedtime stories more than anything in the world.

“I’m sure we can find you a book to read tonight baby. Maybe even two. But we have to play the quiet game for a little bit. Can you do that for me?” A firm nod against your spine was the only answer you needed to grab the handle of the back pack and swing it over your shoulders, effectively concealing Luna from the world. Quiet and hidden meant she was safe, she knew that well.

You still had a couple hours of daylight to find a refuge for the night, should be more than enough if you moved fast. The garage doors remained open, like you left them, but the car that you had passed on your way in now had the trunk popped. Fear began to rear its head, purring happily as you laid your hand on the handle of the large hunting knife hanging from your hip. One of the dead couldn’t have done that, and you wouldn’t let the living even get a chance to notice you were there.

There was no exit out the back, the door in the office had been sealed shut with age, and you definitely couldn’t squeeze through a window. So out the front was the only way. You tightened the straps on Luna’s baby carrier, pulling her closer to you. She gave a small grumble of protest, her tiny fists pressing to your shoulder blades but then settled again. You kept your steps light, your head on a swivel.

The street was clear save for a pickup truck at the end of the block, you could see it as you crept to the garage door. There was a library around the corner in the opposite direction, you could make it if you ran hard. Just as your back foot planted, a click sounded from right behind your head.

“Don’t.” You froze, muscles still tensed for your run. “Turn around. Hand off the knife.” You obeyed however unwillingly. A bullet moved a hell of a lot faster than you. Lull him into a false sense of security, look for a weak point, run. 

He was older but not old— greying hair, built physique, the showy gun in his hands was too sure to be something he wasn’t familiar with. His blue eyes scanned the length of your body but there was no lust or menace in it, like he was searching for injuries. “‘M not gonna hurt you. Are you alone?”

You kept your mouth shut and the man sighed. “You are. Look, we have a safe place; the prison just outside town. We can take you there, let you rest for a while.” 

“We?” His shoulders dropped, a warm smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah, me and my friend. There’s women and children, walls, and fresh water. You’ve been alone a while I’m guessing?” Something about him eased the biting fear in your chest. You finally stood up straight, dropping your hands back down to your sides.

“Name?” He chuckled as if he expected the question sooner, holding out his hand to shake after returning his gun to its holster. You ignored the gesture which he didn’t seem to mind.

“Rick Grimes.” A tiny foot jammed into your side as Luna sat up, her chin perching on your shoulder. “You’ve got a kid.” The man’s eyes went wide, his stance faltering.

“Thank you captain obvious, anything else you want to comment on?” You took a hold of her foot, shaking it as if to reassure both her and yourself that things were ok. Rick’s smile softened. “You got one?”

“Two. Oldest is 14, youngest is a couple months.” Your eyebrows raised. “Yours?” He gestured to Luna who was now trying her darndest to pull herself over your shoulder.

“Almost 2.” 

“Mama.” She whined but you gently shushed her, craning your neck to press a kiss to the plump swell of her cheek which calmed her down enough to at least stop kicking your ribs.

“She’s cute. What’s her-“

“Rick! Where the hell… are-“ The rasp of another voice grated against your ears though it was so intimately familiar. You whipped around to find exactly the man you thought was there, the last person you had let hurt you. 

“Daryl.” His eyes widened, those icy blues you loved so much reminding you of why you had a toddler nestled against you. You hated them now.

He physically stumbled, the crossbow in his hands falling to the street with a clatter. “I-“

Daryl finally looked past you and to the baby hanging off your back with a face identical to his own with your eyes. “I called you.” You snarled, chest puffing up. The pain of those first few weeks alone and terrified sparked up your nerves. “I called you, I begged you to come back.”

“She’s-“

“Yeah she’s fucking yours, you’d have known if you bothered to find me.” Luna whined louder, grabbing at your neck as her distress mounted. You didn’t hesitate to throw off the back pack and retrieve her from the carrier. She curled into your chest, tears quickly soaking through your shirt. 

Her tears doused the fire of your fury, the last of the smoke leaving your lungs. “You left.” 

The hunter deflated at the sight of her, his scarred hands flexing with the urge to reach out and touch her, or maybe to run once more. “I had ta.” He avoided your gaze, instead looking at Rick.

“You fucking-“

“Hey.” Rick stepped between you. “Let’s get you two to the prison and then we can have this talk. Sun’s goin down soon, we’ll need to go now if we don’t want to drive in the dark.” You nodded and he grabbed your bag, swinging it onto his shoulder. 

“Yer comin with m- us?” Daryl sounded hopeful, voice soft as Luna finally calmed down, her eyelids fluttering with the weight of sleep. You almost cursed him out again but Rick was right, you could kill him later when you’ve had a full night’s sleep and some real food.

“Guess so. It’s not just me out here, if it was, I would’ve shot you.” He nodded dutifully and picked up the crossbow. 

“I know.” Daryl whispered, giving you space as you walked past him but you knew he was watching each step you took. Your rage and fear had driven you for so long, letting your mind take a backseat when things began to hurt you but something else inside of your heart began to grow in the twilight of that spring day, nestling itself beside them like moonlight emerging from dark clouds. You knew he would grovel and beg for forgiveness but never try to excuse his actions, that when it came down to it, Daryl would step up. Because he knew of rage and fear but he also knew of the silvery, cool light of hope.

You could only steel yourself for the day that those raging fires died and Luna and her father reminded you of why you loved in the first place.

TWD Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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[h00nerz]

law of attraction!

masterlist | 1k celebration

pairing: fem!reader x choi soobin

genre: angst kinda, rivals to lovers, law student!soobin, law student!reader, pining, kinda fluffy at the end

word count: 3.6k

warnings: soobin is a lil mean sometimes, veeerry suggestive, but that’s it i think

prompt(s): #33 — “i can’t pretend anymore.” #34 — “you’re all i can think about.” #49 — “i can’t get you out of my head.” “…thanks?”

requested: “hii!! i hope ur doing well <3 could i req 33, 34, 49 and 50?? thank u <333333333” — anon

authors note: haha another enemies to lovers! tbf it’s not my fault most of the requests were enemies to lovers themed. anyways i had been wanting to do a law intern thing for someone for a long time and i thought it would fit for soob! i got a lil carried away while writing this LOL i hope u enjoy!!

IN LIFE, THERE WAS ONLY THREE THINGS YOU WERE SURE OF. First, sparkling water is stupid. Just drink soda or water instead, there’s no point in pretending you’re better than anyone else when in reality it’s just that you can’t pick a side! The second thing you knew was you were born to be a lawyer. Arguing was in your blood, there was no doubt you were going to make an incredible attorney one day. The third and final thing that you knew for certain was that you hated Choi Soobin.

Freaking Choi Soobin. In the past, you never thought you’d be the kind of person to have a nemesis. The whole concept of having an enemy seemed childish, and like something that only happened in movies. But, then you met Soobin, and everything changed. You hated him, and his smug little attitude, and he hated you, too.

You know, there was actually a point in time where you didn’t hate Soobin. It sounds crazy, but there was actually a time you might have called him a friend. Back when you were just a baby-faced girl, fresh out of high school and filled with excitement for your first college course. Soobin sat next to you, and you bonded over your desire to one day go to law school. But, then he betrayed you when he told the guy you liked, Hwang Hyunjin, that he saw you kissing the TA for your class, and from that moment on, Choi Soobin was your enemy.

And of course, as your enemy, he just had to apply to intern at the same firm as you. He had followed you to the same law school, so it was no surprise he followed you there, too. But you were starting to grow tired of his ever looming presence. After you graduated, you wouldn’t be surprised if he got a job at the same place as you, just to piss you off.

After a long morning of sorting through the mess of files in the basement of the office, it was finally time for your lunch break. You had been standing with your shoulders hunched over for hours, and you were positive your back was about to break from the stress.

“Y/N!” One of the only other interns in the office, and your only friend in the office, Sumin, called out to you once you appeared back upstairs. “I thought you were out sick or something, where have you been?” She stood up from her desk and wandered over to you.

“I was exiled to the basement. There’s files from like, 20 years ago down there, it’s a mess.” You groaned as she followed you towards the break room, rubbing your shoulder as you walked.

Sumin winced. “Ooh, yeah. Sana was telling me about how when she was an intern here, she had to go down there once, and found a rat skeleton.”

“What?!” You gasped in horror, a little bit louder than you meant to. “That was like, ten years ago though, right? It must have been cleaned up since then, right? Because I don’t think I can work around dead rats, no matter how bad I need this internship.”

You heard a laugh from the corner of the break room, and felt yourself become filled with dread. With your jaw clenched tightly, you slowly turned to face the direction of the noise. There he was, sitting at the little table with a cup of ramen in front of him and his phone propped up in front of him.

“Soobin.” You glared at him. Sumin, bless her heart, tried to pretend she couldn’t sense the tension as she slowly opened up the door to the fridge.

“You know why they sent you to the basement, right, Y/N?” Soobin asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” You rolled your eyes, turning to the fridge to fish out the salad you brought for lunch.

“Because they don’t trust you enough to do the important stuff.” He told you with an amused tone to his voice.

You spun around, slamming the fridge door behind you. “Really? Remind me, who did Taemin pick to help him with the Park case? Me! Not you!” You snapped, jabbing your finger in his direction pointedly.

“Y/N!” Sumin hissed your name scoldingly, as though he wasn’t the one who started it.

Soobin’s smug smile twisted into a scowl at your reminder. “That’s just because I had the flu and wasn’t here. You were just his second choice.”

You had successfully managed to get under his skin--which wasn’t very hard--and were satisfied as you sat down at one of the other tables with Sumin. “Sure, Soobin. Keep telling yourself that.”

He started to raise his hand, like he was going to make some sort of rude gesture at you, but flinched and tucked his hand beneath the table when someone else walked into the room. You furrowed your eyebrows together, and turned in your seat to see who it was. His ears must have been burning, because Taemin himself had decided to join the three of you.

“Oh, hi, guys.” He smiled at you as he walked over to the fridge. You glanced over at Soobin over Sumin’s shoulder. He was staring back at you, with his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

That was another thing about Soobin that had always bothered you. Especially in moments like now, where he looked like he was seconds away from murdering you, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, he was extremely attractive. You had always thought so, even back a million years ago when you were friends. His dark eyes and his perfectly shaped lips just did something to you that you were slightly ashamed of.

You swallowed hard, diverting your attention down to your salad. You could already feel your skin becoming hot, and there was absolutely no way you could ever let Soobin get even an inkling that you might be attracted to him. It was just all so humiliating.

“Y/N, Soobin, I actually need to talk to the both of you. Could you meet me in my office after you finish lunch?” Taemin asked, and you immediately looked back over to Soobin to see if he knew what it was about. His eyebrows were furrowed together, though, and he looked just as confused as you.

“Um, do you mind me asking why?” You asked hesitantly, looking over at your boss.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I just need your help with something.” He reassured the two of you wish a smile.

When he left the break room, you could hear Soobin grumbling in his corner. You wanted to ask him what he’d done to get you both in trouble, but you were also not in the mood to fight with him. Not when you had to go and face Taemin in just a few minutes. He said it was nothing bad, but you weren’t sure you believed him.

While you finished eating your food, Soobin stood by the doorway, huffing dramatically as he waited for you. Just for that, you took the smallest bites you could, which just made him even more annoyed. Sumin was clearly feeling very awkward as she ate her food, eyes flickering between you and Soobin like she was waiting for one of you to attack the other.

Once you had taken the final bite, Soobin stomped over, and grabbed your wrist to tug you out of your seat. “Clean up for her, will you, Sumin? I’m sure you already do that a lot.” He asked your friend, before dragging you out of the break room before you got the chance to protest.

Finally, you snatched your wrist free from his grip, rubbing the sore spot as you trailed after him in the direction of Taemin’s office. “Ugh, you’re such an ass, you know that?” You murmured.

“Me? You’re the one purposefully taking forever when our boss is literally waiting for both of us.” He snapped at you.

You don’t say anything else, worried that someone else in the office might hear your childish squabble.

When the two of you finally reached Taemin’s office, Soobin opened the door, and you’re shocked when he gestured for you to walk in first. Then, you remembered how much of a suck-up he is, and that your boss was on the other side. You shot him a glare as you walked in.

“Oh, good! You’re here!” Taemin greeted the two of you. “Please, sit.”

You obliged him, sitting down on the small couch across from his desk. Soobin sat down as well, and you immediately noticed his leg pressed up against your own. The same heat you felt before spread across your skin like a wildfire, and you cleared your throat.

“So, as you know, the Kang vs. Choi trial is happening next week. Now, Jun was supposed to be in charge of sorting through all the files and compiling them into binders, but his appendix burst and he had to get surgery.” He rolled his eyes, as though Jun was just being dramatic.

“So, now I have fifteen boxes full of papers that need to be sorted through… And I need to get them to the Court tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” You blurted out, eyes wide.

Taemin nodded. “I know, it’s short notice, but Jun claims he had been ‘busy’ and was ‘getting around to it’ before his appendix burst. So, I was hoping you two would be willing to stay late tonight and finish his work.”

“Tonight?! But—“ Soobin started, but was cut off by Taemin.

“You don’t have to do it. I’m more than happy to ask one of the other interns. I figured you two would just like the opportunity to help me out with this…”

“Absolutely yes, Taemin! I can’t speak for Soobin, but I would be delighted to help you with this!” You might as well have held up your hand in salute from how militaristic your answer came out.

Soobin glared at you. “Yes, I am also very willing to help you.” He said as formally as possible, but he couldn’t hide the slight annoyance in his tone.

Taemin smiled. “Great! I’ll have Jisung bring up the boxes, then you can get to work later!” He told you, which you took as your cue to leave.

Soobin trailed after you as you left the office and started to return to your desks. “I can’t believe he’s making us work all night to sort through a bunch of boxes.” He muttered.

“What, did you have a hot date tonight, or something?” You teased, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you jealous?” He asked, and you immediately scoffed in response.

“Why in the world would I be jealous? If anything I would feel bad for whatever poor soul has been tricked into a date with you.” You quickly snapped back at him.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.” He said with a sigh.

You hated that a small, minuscule part of you was happy he didn’t have a date.

BY THE TIME EVERYONE ELSE HAD CLEARED OUT OF THE OFFICE, you and Soobin had managed to get through seven boxes. It was nine o’clock at night, and the exhaustion, as well as the hunger was starting to hit you. You still had eight boxes to go through, and you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through the night.

“God, I’m so hungry.” You muttered as you picked through the papers in the box you were currently working on.

You expected him to make some snarky comment or something, but he didn’t. Instead he just let out a small hum in agreement. “Me too. Should we try ordering some food?” He suggested.

You nodded, then made the mistake of glancing over at him. At some point during your sorting, he had lost his tie, unbuttoned his shirt down to the middle of chest, and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. His dark hair, which had been meticulously styled when he came into work that morning, was now a disheveled mess. There was a thin sheen of sweat that glistened against his skin. He looked way too good under the soft glow of the office lighting.

“Sure. If anywhere is even open.” You replied, eyes flickering back down to your box.

“I know a good place. I order from there all the time when I’m working late.” He said plainly.

“You work late a lot?” You asked as you pulled out a thick stack of papers.

“Yeah. I mean, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I just… I dunno, assumed that you had other things to do besides work…” You shrugged.

He leaned back against the table he was working at as he worked on ordering food on his phone. “Why would you assume that?” He glanced up at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought that a good looking guy like you would have a bunch of girlfriends and friends to hang out with.” You felt your face grow warm as you worked, once again avoiding his gaze like it was the plague.

He laughed. “Yeah, I wish. I’m way too busy for that…” His voice trailed off, and you could feel him look up from his phone to look at you. “You think I’m a good looking guy?”

You shook your head, while you started tapping the papers against the table to straighten them out. “No, I didn’t mean it like I think you’re good looking. Just, like, you’re objectively a good looking guy. I think. Sumin thinks you’re good looking. Not me, I definitely don’t—“ Your hand got too close to the paper, and you felt the edge slice straight through your palm.

You hissed loudly, dropping the papers onto the table. “Stupid fucking paper.” You muttered to yourself, and Soobin wasted no time rushing to your side.

“Did you cut yourself? Do you need me to go get a bandaid or something?”

“No, it’s fine. I just need to go and rinse it off.” You told him, trying to push past him in the direction of the bathroom. He pressed one of his big hands against your shoulder to stop you.

“Just let me get you a bandaid.” He rolled his eyes at you. “I think Sana keeps some in her desk…” He mumbled as he started digging through the said woman’s drawers.

You huffed, turning around to lean back against the desk. “You better hurry. I think I’m about to bleed out and die.” You called out to him.

He glanced up to give you that same annoyed look he always seemed to wear around you. “Maybe I should let you. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with you everyday.”

“But then who would keep you on your toes?” You asked pointedly. He finally found a bandaid, and started walking back over. “Admit it, Soobin. You need me.”

He didn’t say anything, instead focusing on opening up the bandaid. He held out his hand, gesturing for you to put yours in, which you did hesitantly. He had really soft hands.

You watched as he gently pulled off the tabs of the bandage, then laid it across your palm. He used one of his long, slender fingers to smooth it down and make it stick.

It wasn’t until he glanced back up at you when you realized how close he was to you. His dark eyes met your own, and you had the instinct to look away, but something about his gaze had you entranced, and you couldn’t look away, no matter how hard you tried.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, hanging his head down. He took a step back from you, and it felt like a warmth had disappeared. You blinked at him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t pretend anymore, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, although you had a feeling you knew exactly what he meant, because it was the same thing you were thinking.

“I can’t pretend like you’re not all I can think about. At work, at home, at school, I can’t get you out of my head.” He confessed, and for a second the insecure part of you thought he might have been saying all of this as some sort of cruel joke, but the look in his eyes told you it wasn’t.

“Thanks…?” You played stupid, tilting your head at him. You needed him to just come out and say it, to confirm you weren’t crazy, and what was happening was really happening.

He let out a frustrated sigh. “When we were freshmen… And I told Hwang Hyunjin you were kissing the TA…”

Your ears perked up. Was he finally going to explain what that was all about, after all these years?

“It was because Hyunjin told me he was planning to ask you out. And I got jealous because I wanted to ask you out, but was too scared to do it.”

Oh.

“You did?” You asked quietly.

He nodded. “Of course I did. You were smart, funny, and gorgeous, of course I wanted to ask you out.” He was avoiding your eyes now, his cheeks tinted pink.

“And… How do you feel about me now?”

“I feel like you’re incredibly annoying, and sometimes you’re a bit of a know-it-all, and some days you dress sort of like a grandma—“

“Hey!”

“—but I also think you’re smart, probably smarter than me. And you still manage to make me laugh. And even though you do dress like a grandma…”

Your heart jumped up into your throat when he started walking back over to you, getting just as close to you as he had been before. But then he got even closer, leaning down so his lips were aligned with your ear.

“…You look like a sexy grandma.” He whispered in a low, sultry voice.

You immediately burst into laughter. “Oh wow, Soobin, you really know how to get a girl going.” You told him with a laugh, and he leaned back to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Shut up.” He murmured while you continued to giggle.

“Here, let me show you how it’s done, okay?” You wrapped your fingers around the collar of his shirt, and gave it a tug so you could lean in close to him. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting yourself catch your breath.

“Are you just going to breathe in my ear the entire time?” Soobin asked in an irritated tone.

You shook your head. “No. I’m going to tell you, that right now, with your sleeves rolled up…” You gently dragged your fingernails against his bare forearms, and you felt him shiver. “And your shirt unbuttoned…” Your hand traveled upwards to trail across his exposed collarbone. “And your messy hair…” You reached around to brush your fingers against the hair on the nape of his neck.

“You look incredibly sexy.”

He leaned back and immediately bent back down to connect your lips to his. He kissed you harshly, like you were the only thing that could cure his hunger. His big hands found home on your hips, while your own nestled themselves deeper in his hair. Just like you had predicted, his lips were perfect for kissing.

One of his hands let go of your waist, and you heard a scuffle behind you. For a brief moment, you pulled away from the kiss to see what was going on, just to find he had slid everything off of your desk. With it all clear, his hands wrapped around your thighs, and he lifted you up onto the desk and slotted himself between your legs.

He went back to kissing you like a mad man, using one arm to hold you close against him by your waist and the other to stabilize himself against the desk. Your fingers moved quickly across the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one until the shirt was completely open. As you started to trace your fingers against his abdomen, he slid the hand that was wrapped around your waist under your shirt, practically burning against your bare skin.

Just as he was starting to prod at your lips with his tongue, there was a loud banging noise, which caused you to help and immediately cling onto Soobin.

“Oh my god! We’re gonna die! The killers always go for the people making out first!” You wail, digging your fingers into his collar to keep him close to you.

He rolled his eyes. “I take back what I said about you being smart.” He said with a sigh, and you gasped loudly.

“Shut up, you ass!” You hissed at him, smacking his chest and pulling away from him.

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Kidding. Anyways, I’m pretty sure it’s just our food.” He told you with a sigh, staring down at you while his thumb brushed against your swollen lip.

You shivered. “I guess we can always… Finish this later, right?” You asked quietly. As much as it pained you, you were still starving, and had lots of work left to do.

He pouted. “Promise?”

You nodded, then sat up to gently press your lips against his. As you sat back, you smiled at his dazed expression. “I promise.”

permanent tag list: @jakeshands @exohclipse @ttyunz @i1l0-n4 @mazeinthemoon @luvsoobs @n0-thisispatrick @arizzu @cosmicuwu @naveries @yeonboy @blaaiissee

other tags: @haohyo @gyumibear @heartsforhyunjin

[jmagnabo92]

Trevor and Hetty- a kept promise, please and thank you :)

Well... it's not under 500 words. LOL. Hope you like it!

***

There weren’t a lot of promises that Trevor made in his life, especially not to other people, but as he watches Pinkus leave with his – their – daughter, he thinks about the promise he made to himself about the life he hoped to find.  

A real partner, a family, a life outside of his job.  

Then, he went and died.

And maybe he’s a little jealous that Pinkus got to have all that – and he’s, well, he’s a ghost.  

Trevor sits on the bench that the ghosts like to watch that one tree limb, lost in thought of the what ifs – what if he’d taken a little less coke, what if he’d drunk a little less alcohol, what if he’d mixed a little less pills… 

What if, what if, what if…

“Trevor?” a voice from beside him asks.  

He jumps slightly.  He hadn’t noticed Hetty beside him.  Or that night had fallen.

“Uh, hi, Hetty.”

“Are you alright?”

Trevor shrugs.  “I was just thinking of broken promises.”

“Oh?”

“To myself,” he clarifies.  He never makes promises to others because he doesn’t need the guilt of a broken promise to someone else.  

“Oh?” she prompts, again. 

“I promised myself that I would find a partner, have a family, become more than just my job… and that’s literally all I am, even if the after – no partner, no family, just my job.  Ironic.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hetty replies, and his unbelieving look prompts some additional context.  “We ghosts have had many a moment of being a family, in particular, a few years ago when we discovered what my louse of great-great-grandson and your so-called bros did to your body.  Samantha and Jay have helped us be more of a family in many ways.”

Trevor hums.  “Jay does call us his eight idiot kids.”

Hetty hums, too.  “I am fairly certain that you, yourself, have called them ‘mom and dad’, too.”

Trevor laughs.  “That’s a joke – although it’s fitting.”

Hetty smiles, too.  “Thus, perhaps, you did not get to have a child that you raised yourself, but you still have a family – us ghosts, and you have the ability to check on your family, your daughter, as well.”

Trevor nods.  “That’s true.”

“With regards to your job, something the rest of ghosts deeply do not understand – I believe Sasappis says it best ‘who wants to work when you’re dead’ –, it’s hardly the only thing about you.  There were months where no one had any idea that you held a job in ghostly state and we certainly do not go to you for your job, but because we genuinely want to discuss and ponder with you.”

“Even you?” Trevor teases. 

“Especially, me,” Hetty assures him.  “I have enjoyed our power friends alliance, and I admit that perhaps I missed out, choosing to focus on getting sucked off and not how you might feel ��” 

He can’t help his laughter at Hetty’s use of sucked off, though he knows that isn’t what she meant. 

“– why are you laughing?  I am trying to be honest with you and –”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!  I don’t – I can’t explain without ruining my favorite joke,” Trevor admits.  “But as for the rest of it – are you saying… what I think you’re saying?  Would you – maybe want to try, again?”

Hetty looks like she wants to say yes but she probably thinks he’s offering because she’s suggesting it rather than because he wants it.  

So, he adds, “Because I – I wouldn’t exactly be opposed.”

Hetty searches his eyes for just a second before they both shift slightly for the kiss that they seem to be on the same page for, and said kiss is a bit softer and sweeter than their first kiss.  It’s shorter, too, but when they pull apart, they’re smiling at each other.

“Perhaps you kept your promise after all, no?” Hetty questions, smiling.

“Yeah, I think I did.  Thanks to you.”  Trevor grins.  “A promise kept, after all.”

***

If you'd like play - here's the OG Post for Ficlet Friday - HERE

[ashthewaterghoul]

Mushy May Day 12: Flowers - Mountain/Rain

Prompt list by @forlorn-crows can be found here All my Mushy May will be slightly shorter stories and can also be found on ao3 :) This came out a little more hurt/comfort than I intended but... Oh well lol Words - 990

    Earth Ghouls had a certain tradition for those they loved. They would assign a plant, usually a flower, to each person. One that represented who they were, and what they meant to the particular Earth Ghoul. For Mountain, he took this process fairly seriously.

    Upon his summoning with his original pack, he took months to decide on everyone’s flowers. He assigned yellow roses to Aether for his positivity and the value Mountain placed on their friendship. Ifrit was given firecrackers for his energy and excitement about everything. Zephyr had gladioli for their strength and determination through their myriad of health issues. Dewdrop was given waterlilies for his strong heart and how beautiful his soul was. Even Terzo got a flower – lisianthus for Mountain’s gratitude to his summoner.

    As his new pack came Topside, he had a few more loved ones to have a flower assigned. Swiss received snapdragons for his strength, Cirrus got dandelions for her headstrongness, Cumulus was assigned pink hyacinths for her prowess and joy, and Copia got alliums as a token of luck for his reign of the Clergy.

    The one Ghoul he could not assign a flower for, however, was Rain. No bloom seemed perfect enough for the gorgeous syren, no meaning fit him just right. Mountain had never felt with any of the other Ghouls how he does with Rain and trying to find his plant almost seemed like too much pressure.

    Rain makes Mountain feel like the truest version of himself he ever could be. With Rain, he’s able to drop his guard and pour his soul out – abandoning the front of the big Earth Ghoul and defender of the pack. With Rain he can relax, cry, laugh, whatever and he’d still have a loving embrace to return to at the end of the day.

    The Water Ghoul’s hands seemed to know every spot in Mountain’s shoulders that ached after a busy day, where on his antlers was the good spot for scritches and how tightly Mountain liked to be held – all without ever having to communicate it once. He just knew. Rain's scales and fins were the most mesmerising sight Mountain had ever seen and the way they flowed through the water was as if Leviathan himself created Rain by hand to always be one with the currents.

    To Mountain, Rain was perfect. In any and every way one could ever think of. How could he reduce a Ghoul that meant so much to one flower?

    Rain was the definition of “shy” around new people. His true personality was anything but, however that social pressure with those he doesn’t yet know crippled him. It was a complete mystery to the Water Ghoul why his normal self came out instantly around the tall Ghoul with perfect antlers and green eyes that glow like the sun shining down through the leaves on a summer’s day.

   For the first few weeks of Rain’s time Topside, the two were inseparable. Where one was, the other wasn’t too far behind. Even Ifrit and Zephyr, often regarded as the Ministry’s most lovesick couple, couldn’t compete with them.

    Through all their time together though, Rain had noticed that he’d yet to receive a flower like rest had. Nothing in particular would bloom from the base of Mountain’s antlers when Rain entered a room, and no flower as a nickname like the others had too.

    He couldn’t help but shrink into his shoulders sometimes when he would be right there with Mountain and yet someone else would get their flower presented to them as they walked past.

    Something in their souls just clicked on the day they met. So why did Rain seem to be the least important of the pack?

    It wasn’t until one night in the greenhouse that it finally happened. It had been a long few weeks of stress for the Earth Ghoul – dozens of orders made and two of his flowerbeds wrecked. A panel broken off his greenhouse and another plant that died. Not to mention the nearing that dreaded day that marked another month since Terzo’s tragic death. As he mixed up the numbers on his invoices for the 4th time, it all came to a boil and erupted.

    He crumpled up the page and threw it against the wall in front of him with all the strength his element afforded him. The wall held a trellis that all the flowers for his loved ones grew on. The paper hit one of the lisianthus blooms and crushed it.

    A hand came over Mountain’s mouth as he watched the petals fall, and tears came to his eyes. As his emotions overcame him, he begged for Rain’s arms around him.

    Rain had been tossing and turning in his sleep, something unknown keeping him up as he heard his namesake smacking against the window. Usually the sound was a comfort, but not tonight. As Rain tried to quiet his mind, he heard the droplets whispering to him, and before he knew it he was out and walking to his lover’s greenhouse.

    When he opened the door, he saw Mountain covered in small blue flowers, his face streaked with tears and his eyes red and puffy as he sat tucked into a ball under his desk.

    “Mount? What’s wrong?” He asked as he walked over and crouched down.

    “F- forget-me-not?” Mountain said with wide eyes, not having even sensed Rain nearing.

    Rain smiled as he realised what that meant.

    “Yeah, it’s me.” He said quietly, brushing a lock of Mountain’s long auburn hair behind his ear.

    The drummer wrapped his arms around Rain and brought him under the table with him.

    “Forget-me-not… My beautiful, perfect forget-me-not.” He whispered reverently as he kissed Rain with all he had.

    In the morning, Rain would learn what that flower meant, and therefore what he meant to Mountain:

    True love. Devotion. A promise that Rain will always be at his side, forever.

[moodyseal]

So I just saw your toapril day 2 piece and

I AM OBSESSED AAAAAA

but i wanted ask what the picture represented since my pea sized brain connot figure out what it means

i am still going insane over the art btw

THANK YOUU the scene itself is technically supposed to be that part of TON where Apollo takes off the laurel wreath Artemis gave him, except I lowkey forgot to check the book (again) and so what was supposed to be a balcony became that 💀

As for the way it ties to the prompt, the "weight" of the laurel wreath is reflected through the way Apollo didn't feel comfortable wearing that symbol of victory anymore, in the book. (Part of) the canon reason for that feeling is most likely the fact that he lost a lot and also got back what should've been his to begin with, so his return was not much of a victory all things considered but mostly him setting right what was wrong

However there's also something in that scene that makes his business seem unfinished, in a way. His mortal experience changed him (or rather moved him) so much, and yet at that moment none of it reflected in his surroundings or what he looked like, so overall it almost seemed like nothing happened and he was back to square one. Except it's not like that, which is why he doesn't really fit in as much anymore, at least not as Olympus is now

So the weight, in that sense, also lies in what awaits him in the future, and what he must do to change that situation—which is where we get more into AU territory, because the route he goes for in my mind is, of course, a good old revolution

I meant to show that through the begonias, which traditionally symbolize caution and watchfulness, and through the statue of Themis, who's a goddess of justice (much like someone else who doesn't really personify that concept anymore), but I probably should've been a bit more direct about it LOL anyway thank you again for your kind words and sorry about the rambling!! ❤️

[halcoded]

gently plucked this from ribcagedotmp3; his original post had their own alters listed, so i didn't want to just reblog/hijack it from the same post. you know. handwaves.

these were originally meant to be ask prompts. however i didn't want to like. rely on other people sending prompts, especially since there are some i find boring. so i figured i'd just do them here. whatever dskfjsdnf.

under the cut for length.

System Ask Prompts

Generalized:

🍎 - Is there anyone who, when they front, cause your social battery to decline faster?

yes, definitely. anyone who doesn't usually front, especially if they're trying to assert a sense of self without bard (or me...) intervening/making them "mask" as someone else, will drain our battery really, really fast. to some extent i think this may be because either a) we are 'forcing' them to keep fronting when the moment has already passed, so to speak (usually because nobody else wants to be fronting at the time), or b) something is upsetting them and we haven't been able to soothe it.

i used to be THEE alter that made our social battery drain faster. but i think developing my own sense of self, my own connections and online spaces, etc has helped with that a lot. i don't feel pressured to Be Bard but i also don't feel pressured to not be bard. shrugs.

🍓 - Is there anyone who's fronting emoji/indicator an inside joke or source reference?

uhh hm let's see. we don't use emojis to indicate who's fronting very often - there's maybe one server where we'll do it just to indicate "it's not the usual alter you're used to right now", but we don't say WHO it is either unless someone asks. emojis are just a way of self-expressing for us, or sometimes they fit better than a name does. but anyway.

☕ max - pretty sure this was a reference to john mulaney's one black coffee joke, or just the fact that max is like the personification of a guy who would drink black coffee.

⌛ dream2 - reference to the sandman.

👁🕶️🔪 - core, corinth, and their collective/subsystem, all obvious references to the sand.man characters they introjected from.

⭐ - star, obvious one. we mostly use the emoji if we don't want to say "yeah asta.rion is fronting" because people can be weird about that.

💄 - deb has another emoji too (a swan, not sure why) but this one's a reference to how heavily we associate her source with heavy makeup.

🐇 - vinny, reference to... that fucking cartoon rabbit from skinamarink i believe.

🐙 - ed, reference to the kraken motif in of.md

a bunch of others have emojis that are meaningful in some way but most of them are just like. 'i like this one' or whatever.

🍬 - Is there anyone very much so definitely queer, but in very much so heavy denial?

no. i don't think that's really possible with the way we work lol.

🍿 - Is there anyone completely opposite of their source, but still identifies with being from said source?

uhhh hm. i think most of the fictional introjects where it's like "wow you are nothing like them" come from... specifically our writing of those characters; like silver, for example. we write him as basically an oc and the alter is an introject of that basically-an-oc character.

i guess deborah is nothing like our actual mother in practice nor does she identify as OUR mother, though she does still feel like she has/remember having two kids, and she still feels Like that person. it's complicated.

🍊 - Did anyone form from something "unconventional"?

i don't even know what would count as "unconventional" by system standards honestly. alters can form from anything. we got orpheus because we were feeling so fucking miserable about ourselves and wanted a boyfriend or something and our brain went "you know who would be great for this? hozier." lmfao

🥕 - Is anyone pulled to front by alarms? (of any kind)

not that i'm aware of. smoke/fire alarms trigger us very badly (only if we're in the same building as them) but i don't think they trigger a DID switch.

🧀 - If you have individual headmate playlists, which has the most run time / is played the most? (+ what's on it?)

bard's is the longest at 10 hrs and 15 minutes, but mine is probably the most played because i like listening to it while i'm doing something + i like the predictability of only hearing the same few songs over and over. okay by few i mean 42 right now but in my head there's only like 10 lol.

on my playlist there's some radiohead, tom milson, sayonara wild hearts OST, ffxiv OST, kraftwerk, glass animals and some other upbeat groovy songs i like.

🍋 - Is there anyone who fronts very frequently?

yeah me. ksjnfkjsdfn. it changes every few months, but historically i think max has been the most frequent fronter other than the host - which makes sense, he's the main protector of the system and previously we needed him a lot. but i think he's largely... not "retired" but he just doesn't feel the need, or desire, to be around as much.

to be honest i think he may be depressed; he generally has little interest in anything when he fronts now, and often isn't having a good time emotionally when he does. he also finds it hard to a) like people in the first place and b) talk to them in a way that suggests he doesn't hate them, whether he does or not. idk. it's hard to be him, is the point.

anyway though, i front a lot, especially lately. i am pretty good at ignoring social obligations like discord IMs (bard struggles with this) and i am also pretty good at not forcing us to Care about something if we don't have the capacity to do it (example: provide emotional support).

🍯 - Is there anyone who fronts once and then you don't see for weeks/months?

i think that describes most of us, honestly. the vast majority of alters in our system are fragments: alters with a less defined sense of individuality/self, usually created for a specific purpose (to do a specific task, hold a specific emotion, etc), and unable to--or prevented from--fronting on their own without someone else there as a "buffer"*.

(*by buffer, i mean that usually bard will be frantically holding onto the reins to keep pretending they're themselves and that if someone else is fronting, they're not "in control" so everything is fine! don't worry! they're not crazy! etc.

meanwhile if i am acting as the buffer it is usually to prevent an alter from acting in a way that would endanger the body or upset the people around us.)

the only alters that i would say are almost constantly around to some degree are myself, bard, and max. the others are very unpredictable and many fragments will form, front for a few hours, then vanish for months until circumstances require them to front again.

🍐 - Does anyone have a distinctly different voice tone than the others?

yes. i am quieter and more soft spoken; i think flatter too, though i often feel like i am emoting with my voice much more than i am.

max has a lower pitch and a flat, sarcastic affect. like me though, he often adopts bard's "jumpier" vocal mannerisms when he's in a good mood or interacting with someone we like. it's a habit. mirroring, etc.

the syskids have an affect i can only describe as "childish". people who have interacted with those who regress due to trauma will probably know what i'm talking about. there's no baby talk or whatever, just a sort of childish, timid tone and some difficulty with organising their thoughts.

the sugars have a very bouncy, feminine customer service voice that we often end up adopting by default when interfacing with people in real life as a defense mechanism.

hoisin has a very bad irish accent by default but the only person he will use it around is one of our irl friends. he can mask it, it just feels weird to do so - it feels like he's doing a poor imitation of a scottish accent when he does. but talking in a bad irish accent is even worse, so you know.

🫛 - Who has the most unique pronoun set?

maybe meek, who uses ae/aer (alongside other standard pronouns). none of us are really that into most neopronouns other than it/its purely out of convenience. although i do like the idea of bot/botself and spark/sparkself pronouns for myself, they're almost like... private pronouns? pronouns i don't actually expect other people to use because they're grammatically challenging/feel unnatural to use in a sentence? does that make any sense.

obviously identity-affirming pronouns are great, but for us, i think we just like to temper our expectations as to what other people are going to be comfortable using.

🍋‍🟩 - Who has a wildly different clothing style than the others?

lola and some of the other sugars. very feminine, big fans of dresses and skirts and stereotypical cutesy kind of clothing that we would not usually wear.

🧊 - Is there a headmate that is skilled at something others are not?

max is really good at FPS games. his aim is so much better than bard's that our roommate has been able to tell when he's fronting despite absolutely 0 other indicators, purely because he's like a fucking. aimbot.

🫐 - Are there any headmates that speak a language that the body primarily doesn't?

no. i think erik 'remembers' being able to speak german and yiddish, but doesn't actually.

🍧 - Does your system have a theme song?

haha no, though we do have a sort of "collective" playlist i guess. i think the first track on it is just a bunch of whalesong.

🍭 - Are you open about being a system outside of online?

only with a tiny handful of close irl friends, all but one of whom first met me online anyway. some of my less-close friends know i have DID, but we wouldn't divulge details about it to them unless asked or indicate anyone else was fronting.

Introject Directed:

🎸 - Do you associate with your source?

most of them do. i think asta.rion, the corint.hians, and deb* are the ones that are the most "yes, that is me" when they see/think about their source. others like ed and silver are kind of just "eh i guess that guy's where i'm From, but it's not ME me" and then folks like erik and james are so far removed from it that it's like. whatever.

*though in her case she's not happy about it. it just is what it is.

🪗 - Do you like your source's fandom? Why/why not?

the universal answer to this is "no, have you ever SEEN a fandom?"

🏮- Favorite thing about your source?

star thinks he's very funny (and he's right).

📙 - Least favorite thing about your source?

usually it's the pseudomemories that upset them. not every introject has them, i think star and deb are the big ones and they're uhh pretty traumatic.

📻 - What is your biggest fear? Is it related to your source?

deb is terrified of a lot of things and all of them are related to that yeah.

i'm not sure about the others. i guess star is scared of caz.ador coming "back" for him but he knows that it can't physically happen, you know?

🔋- What source do you have the most fictives from?

i guess by number it's probably the san.dman just because we have a few different versions of each alter from it...

🩻 - Do people often change their names after splitting?

not really. i know orpheus did - he started off just being called "hozier" and then as he developed more of a sense of self, they started using oisin / hoisin then eventually chose orpheus as an online pseudonym.

like i've said before, most alters don't front on their own or in a way that allows them a strong sense of self. so they don't usually need a new name, if that makes any sense?

i think also as we have grown more comfortable with the idea of splitting introjects, and less ashamed of it, we have felt less need to "disguise" ourselves with new names. orpheus was a bit of an exception, his name change was at least partly because it felt very weird to be like "hi i'm hozier (no relation)" lol.

🫧 - Who has the coolest name in your opinion?

me of course.

[ari-but-unhinged]

Art for Toritsuka/Hairo fic where I explored what was meant to be a crack ship and is now one of my favourite (??) ships in Saiki k- PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

(A long rant ensues so, if you don’t want that then that’s all good and you don’t have to click, but if you’re interested, then welcome to my rant about a rare pair i love!)

Of course, I started out by simply laughing at the “I hate men” line Toritsuka said about Hairo and thinking writing a crack taken seriously fic would be funny and it would be a nice break before I started this other fic I have planned that is going to be an even bigger endeavour with Saiki k x Danganronpa. What I didn’t see happening was for this Torihai fic to completely take over my brain space and end up with a fic just shy of 20,000 words.

This may not seem like a lot, but I usually only write fics in 1,000-2,000s so this is a lot for me, especially since I’m a slow writer/editor so it takes me a while.

Part of the reason I love these two together is because of the inherent dynamic of Hairo’s inspirational preachiness and how it doesn’t work on Toritsuka, and how it might be refreshing for Hairo to have someone who challenges him (and not in the fake way Teruhashi does, with Toritsuka being very upfront and honest about it). Toritsuka also, because he’s so upfront about his feelings, helps Hairo to express certain emotions like annoyance/sadness that he wouldn’t normally express outwardly. Something else too is that Toritsuka tends to be very physically affectionate, and I don’t know that Hairo is used to that (I haven’t seen any examples of him being physically affectionate in any other way than a bro way) so that could be refreshing as well. Also, also, Toritsuka is Hairo’s gym buddy who was reluctantly dragged along that day Saiki was trying to avoid everyone and no one can change my mind lol (this, in Hairo’s mind, forms a bond between them that can never be broken and he will never stop reminding Toritsuka of this when they hang out).

I just think their dynamic can be playful/fun because they’re both real with each other if that makes sense?

On Toritsuka’s side of things, he doesn’t have a lot of friends and the friends he does have he either doesn’t have any chemistry with or hate him (Saiki lol), so I think it’d be nice for him to have someone who is extremely caring/attentive to his friends and clearly cares deeply about them and shows it often. Because of this, Hairo shows interest in Toritsuka’s life, and for someone who probably hasn’t had many friends, that would mean a lot. Also the fact that Hairo cares so much for Toritsuka sets an example as to how to be a good friend/human would behave and could help him grow as a person (which are always the best friendships/relationships when they grow together rather than staying stagnant and dragging each other down). Being more caring of others and allow him to develop his interpersonal relationships with more than just ghosts, instead with real humans.

Also, I’ve taken to calling them the “errand boys” because it’s a great prompt to force two people who are polar opposites and would never interact to hang out/do an activity together, so I thought it fit them perfectly.

In the fic I changed a few things from canon (sexualities obviously- Tori is bi/queer and Hairo is gay. Although quick side-tangent- I’ve written Tori/Kaidou, Tori/Akechi, and now Tori/Hairo and all three of them either are Asexual or are often headcanonned as ace by the community/me and I just find it very funny that the horniest character is continuously shipped with them. I only realized I did this after I first started writing the fic.)

- Hairo explicitly has psychic powers (it’s something they can bond over and it’s something that plays off of Hairo’s emotions. Cue a lot of blushing not only because of embarrassment but also actual literal heat rushing to his face.)

- Hairo was raised by a single parent (His family is never mentioned so I just made one up)

- Personal headcanon, but I feel like Toritsuka might occasionally pretend to not see spirits in order to avoid getting approached.

- Toritsuka’s backstory has been slightly altered and has a lot more angst to an already pretty sad backstory (it’s played for laughs, but imagine how that would’ve felt for him :( he realized he lost two people he loved in a matter of minutes. Also, he’s a child when this happens so that’s even sadder. I honestly wonder if they died somewhere in the house or he was just there and his guardians didn’t know, like??? How???)

If this made you interested in reading the fic which this is all about, I’ll link it at the end, but if you were just here for the rant, that’s cool too! I’m obsessed with these two because they’re adorable and I must spread the gospel of Torihai.

Link to original fic-

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

Not a question, just a small rant. I read your prompt about people complaining about the first of your book being too much for them and basically wanting you to change your art to fit their needs. I'm not sorry when I say then they should leave and cry somewhere else. I get so sick of these people having nothing else better to do than cry and moan because it's not something they want it to be. When the truth is, it's your art, your plan, and your hard work. It's your vision to where you want your story to go. It's just so aggravating to read not only yours but so many other hard working writers comments about, this is to much, this is too little, why can't we do this or that. Well you know what? It's because it's the writers book, their vision, and their hard work that brings these wonderful stories to life, and if they don't like it, then go write your own damn story the way you want it. I'm sorry to you, that you had to put up with that and it was so much that you actually did change some of your writing. Anyways, this was a bit of a longer rant than I planned, sorry 🤐 I'll stop now. I hope you're doing well and don't change your vision because people want to whine and cry about the way they think your vision should go. Hope you're have a wonderful week so far!! Take care 😉

Omg this is very sweet of you to say! 😊💙

Ngl I thought for a moment you meant to send this to another author because 100% I feel like most get bullied by their audience. I had to think when I might have gotten some pestering feedback but I think the only repetitive negative feedback I got was people saying it was too depressing in the beginning.

Which honestly I always expected since this has always been my writing style, I mean, the name of the story does revolve around an inside joke between me and my best friend how we both have mommy issues and how I can always find a way to make a comedy a tragedy lol.

I never really let it bother me or let it affect my writing, I don't want people thinking the story is all doom and gloom so I preface in the stories introduction that things do get better for the MC. But I also know that I enjoy making people cry with my writing, soooo... yeah.

But thank you so much for sending this, it's really sweet of you. I feel like more authors need to know they do not need to bend to what some people want when it's their story to tell. Not all stories are for everyone but better to make your story and be happy when some people like it for the way they wrote it!

I hope you wave a wonderful day or night, and if it's as hot where you are just like it is for me here; I hope both sides of your pillow is cold when you sleep because I am boiling. 💙

[makoredeyes]

In regards to Timur and Felwinter relationship in the Open Air Dining fic, I was just wondering if you have any plans to go into detail about the things Timur was keeping from Felwinter? I love these too a lot, but I'm a bit confused about how exactly their whole dynamic works. I saw the part where Felwinter asked Timur what he would do if he didn't want something, and Timur said he would be disappointed and prefer they stop. I'm not good at deciphering certain things, lol. I saw one of your recent asks and thought maybe I'll ask on here instead of through dms in case anyone else was wondering the same thing. Also, amazing work on the fics super excited to see how housefire continues after that little sneak peek fic you gave us most recently!

Hi! I love how much attention you give my writing and all your questions when you have them!

What Fel meant when he mentioned Timur was keeping stuff from him was it was dawning on him thanks to Timur’s behavior during that particular encounter that Timur was more invested in a relationship than he’d been letting on. Timur’d been stirring Felwinter up and trying to rile him, yes, but when he’s put on the spot about Felwinter’s needs specifically, he puts them well above his own in a situation where he likely wouldn’t have done so at all if he was just in it for the pleasure.

It’s a trope I like to lean on and revisit a lot with these guys where they’re transitioning from friends with benefits to something more. (This fic I’m particular wouldn’t fit into anything else I’ve written it’s its own one-shot)

Actually in this case it happened by accident lmao I sat down to write smut and some fluff snuck in anyway 🤣 (it always does especially with these idiots bless them)

So I guess tldr for that fic nope, that was just a fun little one shot to ruin dinner with cx but I’m always smashing them together in various ways to explore their personalities and quirks and how those weird puzzle piece shapes fit together and it won’t be the last time we see something like this with them I’m sure. (For one there’s a gaggle of us with a kink prompt generator that I give a spin every now and then and sooner or later it’s gonna produce a winning combo ehehe )

[griffongrey]

hello hello! welcome to thedasweekend! intrigued by the dynamic between aldric lapointe and loghain - so maybe those two with the "as said by alistair therein" prompt of: it's moments like this when i truly appreciate the difference between you and me. hope it's fun! uwu

-broodwoof

@broodwoof @thedasweekend I ended up adjusting the line a little just to fit the flow of dialogue better, but this really is a great prompt for Aldric and Loghain. Plus, the fact that it was originally an Alistair quote that's now being inflicted on Loghain is very funny to me lol

In which Solona has such a powerful affect on the people who love her that she haunts the narrative before she's even declared dead. (She's actually just hiding in the Deep Roads doing dubious research on the Calling.) (Also, for context in the third section, Aline is an elf-blooded orphan who may or may not have a claim to the Orlesian throne, which Aldric conveniently fails to mention to Loghain until after her Joining. Aldric doesn't have the secret Fiona knowledge to fully appreciate Loghain's self restraint in not shouting every swear word known to man.)

Aline once accused both Aldric and Loghain of talking about Solona Amell like she was the Maker’s Anointed. Loghain scoffed and rattled off a list of her flaws in response. Aldric just laughed, because he heard how Loghain talked about King Maric, too.

Years ago, when her absence was still meant to be temporary, and the Calling echoed in everyone’s ears like a dirge, and Aldric returned to his homeland for the first time in eight years at his old mentor’s behest, Loghain all but pleaded with him to see reason. And in the heat of the fight…

“You think I like the idea of being some demon’s breakfast?” Aldric shouted, “Clarel’s plan is — I know, it’s horrific. But we’re not going to scrap it just because you think it’s too risky.”

“Maker’s breath, man, that’s not what I said. I’m asking you to stop and think for one second before you run off and kill yourself!”

“We are already dying, Loghain. We can’t afford to wait. There’s every chance we’ll be the last Grey Wardens in history. Now, I swore an oath to protect the world from the Blight no matter what, and if this is what it takes — ”

Loghain huffed and threw his hands in the air like he always did when he dismissed an argument as a lost cause, and something inside Aldric snapped. He hit back with the worst accusation he could think of.

“Hard sacrifices are what the Grey Wardens are built on,” he said. “Solona thought you understood what that meant better than anyone. I wonder what she’d think of you now?”

He knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

That night, when Aldric relayed Loghain’s reservations to her, Warden-Commander Clarel gave the order for Loghain to be arrested. Aldric delayed the Wardens she sent to enforce it just long enough for Loghain to flee Montsimmard. After that, Clarel didn’t trust Aldric enough to introduce him to Magister Erimond until the ritual had already begun, and Aldric wouldn’t have trusted Erimond even if she had.

“What do you mean, royal affairs with elves aren’t ‘an exclusively Orlesian weakness’?”

“No, I won't say another word. I wouldn’t have said anything in the first place, if your sheer idiocy in recruiting the girl hadn’t shocked me into forgetting the value of discretion.”

“Are there elf-blooded royals in Ferelden, too?”

“Stop. Talking.”

“You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

“I can, and I will.”

“Did King Alistair sleep with Zevran?”

“Did — what?”

“I’ve no room to judge, believe me. The things that man can do with his tongue…”

“Which of them did you — ? No. Please stop talking.”

“I’m just saying, I know what I have to ask Solona if she ever comes back.”

“…”

“Loghain?”

“Aldric…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing.”

Years afterward, when Solona’s title had long since passed down to someone else, and new recruits like Aline only knew Adamant Fortress as a cautionary tale, and Aldric had taken to his new role as Loghain’s Warden-Lieutenant as though he’d never left Orlais, Aldric still talked about Solona in the present tense. With the other Wardens present, Loghain tried not to comment on it. But, alone, with no one else to hear him say it…

“Solona is dead.”

Aldric recoiled, too shocked by the harshness in Loghain’s voice to remember what they were meant to be discussing.

“Don’t say that,” Aldric whispered.

“Aldric, no one has ever crossed the Volca Sea and lived to return. It’s been years since even the bard lost contact with her. Face it,” Loghain said, bitterness clouding every word, “she’s dead. She isn’t coming back.”

Aldric was shaking his head, his lips forming the word ‘no’ before he knew they were moving. “I’ve watched her carve her way through a whole thaig full of darkspawn single-handed — ”

“And I’ve watched her kill an Old God single-handed,” Loghain echoed.

“ — If anyone could survive all this time, out there on her own, it’s Solona,” Aldric finished, raising his voice above Lohgain’s.

He waited for a response… and got nothing. Just those icy blue eyes boring into him in silent assessment. Whether they held judgment or — worse, coming from Loghain — pity, Aldric couldn’t tell.

Eventually, Loghain just sighed and said, “You don’t want to do this to yourself.”

Pity, then. Aldric scowled, heat rising in his face. He bit down on the skin of his cheek to keep from saying the first thing that came to his mind.

“That isn’t — I can’t just give up on — ” He shook his head and tried again. “I’m not naive, alright? I know it’s a long shot, but I have to hold onto hope. Without it… well… Maybe that’s the difference between you and me.”

Loghain remained silent again for a long time. Finally, bracing himself for a fight, Aldric looked up, but instead of anger or betrayal in Loghain’s eyes, he was met with the same bitter weariness — a weariness that reminded him Loghain was approaching seventy now — as before.

“You’re right,” Loghain said, with the kind of rueful look that had more in common with a grimace than a smirk. “The difference is that I know exactly how dangerous that kind of hope can be. And it is a mistake I won’t make twice.”

It wasn't judgment or pity, by the way. It was Loghain suddenly remembering that he'd said almost those exact same words to Anora to try to justify bankrupting the nation in his search for a certain other Fereldan hero who disappeared (but didn't, in fact, actually die) at sea. If anyone could survive anything, it would be Maric. But (to Loghain's knowledge) he didn't, so Solona can't. Because Solona may be haunting the narrative before she dies, but Maric has been haunting it since before she was even born.

[mad-hunts]

Headcanon Ask Game: Fragrance Prompts

[ Bergamot, Mint, Lemon ]

fragrance prompts.

AHHH, hello, jonathan! thank you so much for the ask :D i really do appreciate you all sending things in like this because it allows me to take about the INSANITY that is barton - /hj (LOL, i'm partially joking here, but he is kind of insane so... you know. i'm also being partially serious jsjsj) but anywhozies, i hope you have drank plenty of water today and also ate plenty of delicious food! now buckle up because i'm about to answer all of your headcanon questions haha.

Bergamot: What gesture of kindness made the biggest impact on them, and why?

OOF — you know what? it took me a hot minute to come up with this one because i feel like, although there have definitely been moments that have changed barton's life... they weren't exactly due to kindness. but then i thought about barton's childhood and how, despite him not having the slightest clue as to who he was at the time, winslow took him in as a kid. and this certainly would fit into the category of a gesture of kindness since, for all extents + purposes, he wasn't obligated to help barton by taking him in whenever he came to his door.

because even though barton was in quite dire straits, he could've easily called the police and just waited with him until they showed up, but winslow could sense that something was definitely wrong + he doesn't have the best relationship with the police himself. so, the next best thing was allowing barton to come into his house and nursing him back to health. but considering that he had nowhere else to go after winslow had done so and he has a rather big soft-spot for kids... he allowed barton to stay there for as long as he needed. + unbeknowst to both of them at first, this would later forge a familial-like bond between the both of them as winslow became a surrogate father to barton.

Mint: What is their sharpest sense, and how does that impact their life?

whenever it comes to barton's sharpest sense, i have to admit, the first thing that came to mind for me upon being asked this was his hearing — so that is what i shall be talking about here. i think i have mentioned this a few times before, but as a kid, barton literally adapted to becoming a light sleeper because of his bio father as he (unfortunately) had reason to be afraid of wesley. and this meant that, as a result, barton's hearing became extra sensitive to picking up sounds that were slight like creaks in the floorboard or whispering.

now, this is something that carried on wayyy into his adulthood + serves as both a blessing as well as a curse. because, yes, as one might be able to imagine — it has gotten barton out of some sticky situations in the past along with the present. but on the downside, he finds himself being quite easy to rouse whenever he's asleep, and so stuff like even his partner getting up in the middle of the night for something harmless like going to the bathroom might wake him up. orrr barton might hear a conversation occur between two people that he wasn't supposed to, and now he has information that he has no idea what to do with.

so, in a nutshell, i'd say that it affects his life both positively as well as negatively. there are certainly some advantages to having a keen sense of hearing whenever you're a part of gotham's underground, as it may or may not allow you to do things like know where to go when escaping from a place... or what-have-you. but yeah!

Lemon: What is something seemingly inconsequential that can put them in a bad mood for the rest of the day?

inconsequential, huh? honestly — though this isn't something that happens too often, having to deal with people who are entitled and/or bossy at his job is something that can really put barton in a sour mood for the rest of the day; even though he knows that, in any job where you're dealing with the public, you can expect to encounter at least a couple of people who aren't so nice every few weeks. but it still manages to like completely tilt his day in a negative direction if that makes any sense. because there are good people out there, but unfortunately, the likelihood of 'bad people' overshadowing the positive interactions you've had during a certain day... it's unfortunately rather high.

a way that barton tries to alleviate this feeling is through basically telling himself he'll get a 'reward' if he makes it through the day without crashing out (JSJSJ), though, which mostly works. mostly. but anyway, i hope you enjoyed reading my responses to all of these questions and that you're having a good start to your friday, my friend!! ❤️

[agentrouka-blog]

Hey! Did you find the time to read the affc outline yet? I just know people are seething lol. I wanted to ask, what did you think about the Tyrion outline? That he will “witness incest”? Will he see two people and be reminded of Jaime/Cersei because there doesn’t seem to be any other option. Dany is alone and I doubt she will get together with Aegon VI later in the volume.

Moreover, I feel like the pov Prince of Sorrows is Tyrion’s or Tyrion centric nonetheless because I feel “whores go everywhere” is the answer to the constant question Tyrion asks himself in adwd - “where do whores go”. Maybe he finds out about Tysha and it is painful??

I know at this point we can only speculate because we don’t have any evidence to go off on, but what do you think, can we figure out something about the outline?

Hi there! :)

(Reddit post in question)

I've read it but not in-depth. No time, unfortunately. (Employment is a huge impediment to fandom...)

Here are some rambling thoughts, yay!

I'm pretty sure the Prince of Sorrows refers to concept that Tyrion was supposed to have an encounter with the Shrouded Lord (I think?) in a dream of some kind, probably during his near-death at the Bridge of Dream, which was in the Sorrows stretch of the Rhoyne. What snippets of philosophical musings GRRM put under that header certainly fit a transcendent confrontation with Tyrion's conscience. "Let it go or it will become you. Let them go - will not bring you peace." Tyrion's inability to let go of his own trauma and resulting rage (like Dany, like Theon, like Stannis, like LSH, like Bran, like Arya etc etc etc) is utterly the root of his own villainy and future undoing. So that checks out. GRRM cut it, probably because it may have been too heavy-handed at this point in time. He instead opted to show us a Tyrion descending into complete depravity at Selhorys, with any self-reflection deferred to a much later point.

"Witness to incest" is so vague that I don't think we can even extrapolate it refers to any specific action with the plot so much as it's a self-description.

It's important to remember that this informal little note of an outline is from GRRM for GRRM, and these are prompts or reminders that tie into his already existing thoughts. We have no idea what those thoughts are. A phrase like "KILL THE MOUSE" or "witness to incest" can refer to an intended quote, it can refer to a status he wants to emphasize inside the chapter, it can be a personal reminder to achieve a specific moment or plot point, it can be symbolic. Is the Mouse Shadrich, or is it a code for Alayne, who is a mousy-brown creature scurrying about the castle, different but similar to Arya's Harrenhal mouse era? What it does is beautifully showcase how he structures the more pragmatic, detailed bits of his plot around key points he wants to make. Take the Arya notes. "The joy of giving". Obviously, he is working on complex imagery that juxtaposes "taking a life" with "giving the gift", the hypocritisy of murder for hire - and the genuine peace offered to those who come to die of their own volition. Here, too, GRRM chose to hold back on actually going into these issues in the finished product in Feast-Dance, probably saving it for the climactic escape and/or Arya's confrontation with Catelyn's revenant.

Is the incest Jaime and Cersei, which Tyrion has witnessed all his life? Was it meant to tie into Aegon and Dany (who he learns are intended to marry), or to set up something else, or both? GRRM chose to cut it, anyway, so the sentiment may well come back at a later point, much like the insights in the Prince of Sorrows.

Basically, while the emphasis on Sansa's identity is a pleasantly unambiguous support for her (already obvious) trajectory north in GRRM's own mind, I don't think we'll get much else out of this outline that isn't already in the text one way or the other. We shouldn't be too literal with the notes in there because he wasn't writing an explanation of his plot, he was writing an extremely self-referential little to-do list that may be as reliable as the to-do lists I write for myself on a day off: i.e., I end up doing one thing and scrap the rest in favor of lying around on my couch.

[fandomscraziness22]

22 and 46 for end thb locklyle!

hi friend!!! you gave me a sorta specific idea for this prompt, so hopefully it lives up to that, even though it's not *exactly* the same! also apparently it's the anniversary of Lucy leaving? so like, happy anniversary i guess????? lol

to distract (22), because they’re running out of time (46)

“My Talent….”

Lucy trails off in front of him, and Lockwood could finish that sentence a million ways. Your Talent is the strongest thing I’ve ever seen. Your Talent is maddening. Your Talent is dangerous, but that’s why you have a team with you. Your Talent is not the real reason we’re still arguing.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead he scoffs and says, “We both know your Talent isn’t going anywhere, Luce. You’re just being a coward.”

And maybe that was the wrong say, because Lucy’s face goes white, and then she grabs her coat. “I am many things, Mr. Lockwood. But a coward is not one of them,” she snarls. 

Lockwood’s taken aback by the ferocity of the statement, not to mention the formal way she addressed him, so it takes him a second too long to realize Lucy has left the cafe. Their tea cups remain full, and Lockwood swears he can see the liquid trembling from Lucy’s pure rage.

I need to go after her, he can’t help thinking. She can’t leave.

Lockwood scrambles for his coat and rushes to the door, ignoring the curious looks everyone is giving him. Right now, he doesn't give a damn about what he looks like to the general public—all he cares about is getting to Lucy.

“Lucy!” he calls down the street, seeing her walking fast against the chilly November wind. She doesn’t turn, but he knows she heard him. His brain is racing as he catches up to her. What else can he say that he hasn’t already said in the past two hours?

Well, there is one thing, and it’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever had to say to a living person. But he might have to.

Lockwood stops in front of Lucy, causing her to pull up abruptly, a scowl on her face. “Lockwood, what the hell?” she gripes.

The light of the ghost lamp they’ve stopped under gives her an ethereal glow, and if he wasn’t in the middle of begging her to stay, Lockwood would marvel at how beautiful she looks. But there’s no time for that.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” Lucy asks, close to angry tears. Lockwood knows she doesn’t cry very easily, and he hates that this is all making her feel like that, but he also knows himself. And he knows, with absolute certainty, that if she leaves like this, he will never recover.

“Because, Lucy, we need you with us. I need you with us. With me.” It comes out halting, in fits and starts, because Lockwood is no good at talking about his feelings. He’s better with action (though he’s terrified to do what he’s been thinking about since Lucy went on that first case with them so long ago). 

She blinks at him, a hint of surprise showing through her otherwise impassive face. She’s quite good at that—making Lockwood question what he originally thought was a good idea, because she’s getting ready to yell at him for what he just said.

Lockwood doesn’t let her get a word in. They’re already so close, it’s not hard to reach for her cheek, to softly pull her even closer.

“I need you,” he repeats in a whisper. “Please, Luce.”

Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the nonexistent space between them, maybe it’s desperation (okay, it’s definitely that last one). Lockwood looks into her eyes one more time, and he spots the glimmer of hope he was looking for. So he closes the gap between them and presses his lips to hers.

He meant for it to stay gentle; a plea, a request to stay, to give him another chance.

Lucy has something else in mind.

She pulls away just for a second to mumble a “Finally,” against his lips before pulling him to her and crushing her mouth to his.

Lockwood’s squeak (that he will deny forever ever happened) is muffled in the movement of their lips against each other.

He’s the first to break off, only because his body needs air. Lockwood presses his forehead to Lucy’s, keeping his eyes closed as he says, “That was a long time coming.”

Lucy giggles, half in shock and half in delight. “You absolute tosser,” she scolds him fondly. “I can’t believe you waited till now.”

Lockwood pulls away slightly to really look at her. “Lucy, will you stay? We can work out whatever problems you think you’re saving us from by leaving.”

Her nod is the best movement in the entire world. (Well, maybe second best, he thinks, as he leans down to kiss her again.)

send me a ship and a kiss!