#now just gotta do this for seven more members....

[sometimesiwritethings]

figured i'd go ahead and share what i've been working on instead of Yeosang's incredibly late birthday fic time is a social construct from which i'm completely divorced

[deebris]

From annoying to beloved

Homelander x fem!Reader

Synopsis: The new member of the Seven annoys Captain Patria with their habit of doodling in the corners all the time, but he didn't expect to end up liking it.

During the fourth season, it can be read as both romantic and platonic.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of murder, the reader has the power to control plasma, fluffy.

The reader is also kind of anxious.

Word count: 2.9k

"You gotta be fucking kidding with me." Homelander interrupted abruptly upon hearing snores in the room. "Is Noir sleeping?"

"Mmhmm," Firecracker murmured in agreement, but the masked superhero jolted awake when The Deep kicked his chair.

"Oh, shit! Sorry, guys." Black Noir straightened up, while the Captain shook his head in disbelief, unable to fathom what he had just witnessed.

"Ah, what the fuck." The blonde furrowed his brows, eyes darting around the room quickly, then fixing on a specific point when something else caught his attention. He had noticed you earlier with a notebook and pencil, but now you're not writing but drawing. The irritating sound of the graphite scraping against the paper had been bothering him for some time, but he had tried to ignore it, assuming as a newcomer you were taking notes.

He wouldn't lie. Though he found taking notes utterly stupid, he liked to think someone was that focused on what he said. Not that he needed it, just opening his lips and everyone would be watching him. But as if that weren't enough, he finally realized you were dressed in regular civilian clothes.

"Radiance, where's your suit?" He asked slowly, but angrily. "Can't anyone do anything right around here?"

You finally tore your attention from the paper, meeting Homelander gaze directly. It's not that you weren't paying attention—in fact, you were, maybe more than anyone else there. It was easier to absorb things while doodling, a way to calm your nerves. Well, that or rubbing your sweaty fingers together until they hurt.

No one ever understood. Even back in school, your parents used to receive complaints about you drawing during class, no matter how high your grades were or the fact that you were the top student.

This was your first meeting with the Seven, and the last thing you wanted was to give the impression of being careless or not caring about being there. It could be said that one of the best days of your life was yesterday when Vought sent you a notice, letting you know that the greatest superhero of all had personally chosen you to join the team. After so many "retarded" - in his words - he had been forced to accept into the Seven, Homelander saw in you, above all, the opportunity to make up for Firecracker's ridiculous weakness.

When Ashley began talking about your powers, he had no doubt the last spot was yours. It was simply brilliant. Who the hell would have imagined someone would have powers to control a state of matter? You could maneuver fire, generate electrical discharges, disrupt magnetic fields, and damn it, you could split atoms as if slicing butter.

Vought's scientists said they didn't know if it was possible, but you could destroy the damn out of a star one day. Homelander wasn't a science guy, but in one of his moments of boredom, he got curious and did some research. He didn't even know that plasma crap was all that, he thought it was a cell thing or whatever.

He always thought someone with a power as peculiar as yours, and at your age, would be arrogant or just plain dumb. But you were actually the complete opposite. You didn't speak unnecessarily, and while you seemed very aware of your own actions, you had no clue how powerful you were, or perhaps ignored that fact. The blonde thought you were an idiot for it, but he appreciated the inferiority you submitted to, especially in relation to himself.

"I don't have one, sir," you replied to his question, feeling small with everyone looking.

"What the hell?" He continued, focusing on you with incredulous voice, he couldn't believe it. How did someone end up here without even having a superhero suit?

The truth was, you had never been part of any team before, nor had you received any sponsorship during your life, or even attended Godolkin University. The only thing you had were your powers, which were indeed impressive. You never chased after any position, nor were you ever obsessed with being a famous superheroine, but lately you thought it would be a good adventure to radicalize your life. That's when you applied to join the Seven.

"How do you have a name and not have a fucking suit?" He asked, boiling with anger, fists clenching tightly behind his back.

"They gave me a name when I filled out the application," you answered honestly. That day, after they chose to call you Radiance, a random and easily commercial name, you couldn't complain much and didn't want to bother, so you left it at that.

"You'll be introduced as an official member of the Seven tomorrow, how do you not have a suit?" He took his hands off his back, moving them as he spoke to express his confusion, and for a few moments you followed it movement like a child who can't keep their attention on anything for long. "Who's handling your marketing?"

You couldn't answer, so you stayed silent and no one else dared to say a word either. You had no idea who was handling your marketing, not knowing you should even have that. You glanced quickly around the table, perhaps seeking some kind of help for the situation, but everyone looked down when they realized you were staring at them. They were enjoying themselves, and that made you exhale through your nose in embarrassment.

"You know what? Fuck it, doesn't matter." Homelander brought his fingers to his furrowed forehead, letting out a loud sigh as he calmed down. "Just... don't show up like this in public until someone gives you a suit."

"Yes, sir," you replied tensely, relieved that he had resolved the matter.

Sister Sage widened her eyes in relief when she finally saw the superhero sitting beside her. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, as she had intended from the beginning, but when some sound was about to come out of her mouth, Homelander spoke to you again, this time pointing an accusatory finger at you:

"And stop drawing, damn it," he ordered, causing you to slowly drop the pencil on the table, as if caught doing something wrong with the weapon of the crime in hand. You stared at your lap throughout the entire meeting, embarrassed for messing everything up on your first day.

When the meeting ended, you followed most people out of the room, but stopped nearby in one of the hallways. You slid down the wall, crouching in a hidden corner, and lightly tapped the sketchbook against your forehead in annoyance.

"Stupid," you murmured softly to yourself. It was so ridiculous, yet it embarrassed you so much. Maybe this first day wasn't so bad after all. You would have plenty of time to prove your worth to everyone, no need to dwell on this situation. Even though you had been corrected in front of some of the most iconic supers by Homelander himself, this situation could be overcome. It was thinking about it that kept you from letting the burning tears fall.

"I can hear you whining," Homelander voice made you jump to your feet, startled to be caught once again doing something you shouldn't. He didn't seem happy, and his expression was so intimidating that you felt like Mariah Carey performing for a crowd of Eminem fans.

He approached you in slow steps and you held the sketchtebook protectively to your chest, as if that could protect you from something. He glanced down to briefly see the object in your hands and looked at you with disgust.

"If you don't straighten up, I'll kick you out. Got it?" Everything about him exuded threat. Maybe if he weren't so imposing and powerful, that sentence would have sounded a bit like the janitor from your old school scolding you for spending too much time in the bathroom during class.

You were paralyzed standing there and all you could do was a nod. But your gesture made him more aggressive.

"Answer with your mouth. Are you mute or something?" And there he was, hands behind his back again. He seemed to enjoy that pose.

"I won't mess up, sir," you said, swallowing your saliva.

"And get rid of that. Or burn it, do whatever, just get rid of it. And I better not see you with that again," he said referring to your notebook, walking away faster than before. "These kids..." you heard him mutter distantly.

After that happened, you didn't destroy the sketchtebook, but you were afraid of being caught and kept it safely tucked away in the back of a drawer in your room. What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right? You mentally made a promise to yourself not to use it anywhere else but here, to avoid causing more trouble.

It's been a week since you've been with the Seven, and several strange things have happened. You quickly realized that Homelander wasn't the pristine and merciful hero everyone believed him to be. But the truth was that deep down you already expected that. Everything about heroes always seemed too perfect and pure, there had to be a catch. Despite everything, you still remained yourself, never intentionally hurting anyone or getting involved in murders and conspiracies.

You were comfortable helping out with some minor crimes that Vought sent you to solve, but by now you suspected that sooner or later Homelander would ask you to do some of his atrocities. It was still hard to think about how to feel about it, but you weren't naive, you were already mentally preparing to submit to it or else be killed.

During that time, as you adjusted and interacted with the team, it didn't go unnoticed by Homelander that you were drawing on your own hand, or on napkins and on random sheets you found lying around, even though you hadn't shown up with your sketchtebook again. This was starting to wear on his last nerve, but he tried to ignore it. As long stayed as you were, without asking too many questions and obedient, he made an effort to continue overlooking your makeshift drawings.

"Meeting's over," the blond suddenly declared, interrupting another of the Seven's weekly gatherings while cutting off The Deep's rambling about his ideas.

"But I haven't even talked about the flying shark yet," he tried to defend himself.

"Shut up," Homelander's voice rang out sternly in the room, issuing a warning that the man promptly obeyed.

"Right. Meeting's over." Ashley nervously moved to gather the portfolios on the new soda advertisement she had come to present, but as soon as she touched the first folder, specifically the A-Train one, the superhero exploded in rage:

"Ashley! Get out!" She immediately dropped the folder in place and hurried out in her heels, unable to run in them. "All of you! Get out of here."

Everyone got up from their chairs, even you, and filed out through the front door, leaving the folders on the table. Sister Sage hesitated, thinking she might be an exception, but when his scowl deepened, she understood she should leave too.

With the room empty, Captain Patria took a few minutes to admire the view from the tower. He enjoyed staring at it sometimes, even when bored.

"Bunch of idiots," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in denial, indignant. If he had to spend one more minute with these morons, he would have a heart attack, even though that was technically impossible for him.

He threw his cape back as he turned to leave, looking down and not focusing on anything in particular. But his eyes caught something different from the other folders. It was obviously yours, with a huge drawing covering the text and images printed on it.

That was the first time he actually saw something you had scribbled. And damn, it was perfect. It was a drawing of everyone in the room, with him in the center looking angry. Just as he was. His ego flared up as he noticed that his figure was more detailed than the others'. You must have started drawing him first, hence had more time to detail him. The idea of you making him the main focus of this particular drawing made his pupils dilate. He used his super hearing to check if anyone else was around and secretly took that sheet for himself.

The next time he saw you drawing in the Seven's room, he couldn't help but wonder if you were drawing him again. As soon as he noticed you sneakily reaching for a pen that belonged to Ashley, he looked in your direction. The noise that used to annoy him now sparked curiosity. And after staring at you for so long, it didn't take long for you to look back at him too. The blond thought you would be embarrassed, like most people, but you just grinned as if you were used to being caught looking. And indeed, you were.

You began drawing Homelander more frequently when you realized he never caught you watching him. It was easier and avoided awkward situations with other people. After two whole weeks of drawing him continuously while taking advantage of this freedom, you felt capable of drawing his face without even needing to see a photo, having memorized most of his distinctive features.

Well, it seems he's finally noticed you.

Sometimes, when alone in your room, you took out your sketchbook and started practicing the memory of his facial features you had developed. Just like every other time, you became absorbed in the drawing, focusing only on the voices around you to understand what was being said. This was also a way to keep yourself engaged during conversations, so you wouldn't get restless from being still while being a mere spectator of everything. After all, you never participated much or gave opinions; Deep already did enough for two.

The meeting had already ended, but you stayed in your chair, even as everyone else left, to finish just a part of the hair. You thought no one would mind, and then you would leave as usual, but a voice caught you by surprise:

"Can I take a look?" Homelander asked, for the first time, using a gentle voice beside you. His expression was enigmatic, somewhat relaxed, and shy at the same time.

You turned the stack of post-it notes, also taken from Ashley, for him to see what you had drawn, fearing what he would say. You weren't ashamed of drawing people, much less of them catching you doing it. You feared because he found your habit annoying.

He observed the drawing, seeing his posture from the side, upright and imposing. He wondered if you drew him exactly as you saw him, or if it was just another caricature of reality, like those Photoshopped pictures spread around. He looked much better than he imagined, though he had that superiority complex that made him see himself as a god.

For a moment, he was offended to see his image stamped on such despicable things as scraps of paper and these damn post-it notes. Your fingerprints were also visible stains, and the paper was slightly wrinkled from his sweat. He had noticed that sometimes you drew calmly, as if you had all the time in the world, and other times it was like drawing on a boat in a storm. Today seemed to be the latter situation.

"Do you like drawing me?" He glanced at you.

"I do," you shrugged. That was the simplest and most truthful answer you could give. "Sorry, I won't do it anymore," you said, thinking he was bothered by it.

"Why?" He ignored your apology.

"You're drawable... I guess," you stared at the table, not understanding the flow of the conversation.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" He asked in a louder voice, turning to face you, obviously confused. "Is this some artistic shit?"

"It's just that you're easy to draw because you have unusual characteristics. It's a good thing," was your answer, and it inflated his chest with narcissistic pride. Unusual, that's what you said, but to him, it was like being called extraordinary.

"Next time you draw me, try using a sketchbook," he said sternly, pretending to reject your work, but deep down, he just didn't want to show that he really liked it. That statement was his way of encouraging you to continue, but at the same time, it was so ironic, considering he got mad at you just when you were drawing him in the sketchtebook that day.

"But you asked me to get rid of mine," you said simply, your voice dwindling with each word of the sentence, not wanting him to find out that you had never thrown it away.

"I'll get you a new one," he said dismissively, taking the entire stack of post-it notes with him, including the drawing, as if you wouldn't notice.

[hhughes]

៹࣪ ៸៸ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 . . . ꒱꒱

in which Jack shows appreciation for all that you do, by doing you a favour.

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. jack hughes x athletic!trainer!reader. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. banter. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. just had this idea in my head and had to write it. who knows if I’ll do more with this pairing, maybe, maybe not. we’ll see. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Working in professional sports means you’re exposed to attractive people most of the time. They’re professional athletes , it’s their job to keep their bodies in shape , and over time you get used to it. A six foot , fit, cocky man is much less appealing when you're surrounded by them twenty-four-seven. It helps that you get to see them in their lowest of lows. Snoring on the plane when they haven’t brushed their teeth in over 24 hours , wearing the same T-Shirt and sweatpants on the plane on every roadie , or when they take it a step further ( bc they’re overachievers ) and puke in your backseat when you pick their drunk asses up from a night out. That’ll teach you to become friends with co-workers.

So it surprises you every now and then when you hear people freak out about how attractive they are , or how lucky you were to be in their presence as often as you are. People in this case being your dad’s friends’ daughter.

“I gotta get a job like yours if I get to stare at that the entire time,” Amanda says from her position next to you in the box , her eyes focussed on Jack who stood outside the door talking to one of the building staff members. you resist the urge to let out a sigh and only send her a polite smile. You hold yourself back from wanting to give her advice because she probably wouldn’t take it into consideration anyway. It was challenging to get your job as one of the team’s assistant athletic trainers , but getting the job wasn’t necessarily the hard part. It was keeping the job , continuously proving that you deserve it.

“Thanks again for getting us up here sweetheart,” your dad says, taking the spot next to you when Amanda occupies herself elsewhere, and squeezing you tightly into his side. Your parents were both lifelong devils fans and actually met at a game. So it was only fitting that they would celebrate their thirtieth anniversary at the same place they met.

“Pass my thanks on to Jack too would you?” your dad says , knowing it was because of him that they were up there but before you could reply a smooth voice cut in from behind.

“No need for that sir , the box was gonna sit empty tonight anyway. I’m glad it’s being put to good use,” Jack cuts in and both you and your dad turn to look at him. He was clad in his game day suit , one you’ve seen many times now but it still managed to make your mouth run dry a bit.

Sir? you mouth at Jack, lifting your eyebrow in a teasing gesture and if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve missed the slight lift in the corner of his lips, revealing his brief amusement before it fades away as he continues talking to your dad.

“You gonna get me a goal tonight? Break this little dry streak you're on” your dad jokingly asks as he shakes Jack’s hand and you gently nudge him.

“Dad,” you warn, knowing how hard Jack was on himself already about going pointless for a few games. You send Jack an apologetic glance but he just smiles in response. Usually it didn’t bother Jack when fans talked about his game. No one was more disappointed in him not performing than he was. And no one wanted to score more than he did.

But for some reason when someone close to you mentioned it, it struck a bit of a nerve. For some unknown reason Jack wanted nothing more than to play the best game of his career tonight and impress your dad. Maybe even impress you, but as he’s learned the last few months, that’s no easy task.

You’ve remained thoroughly unimpressed by just about anything and everything Jack Hughes has thrown your way. Which Jack isn’t afraid to admit, has hurt his ego quite a bit, but it’s also made him utterly fascinated by you.

“Should’ve worn my jersey. Give me a bit of extra luck,” Jack jokes and your dad lets out a slight laugh, patting the ‘C’ on his chest. Proudly wearing the devil’s Captain’s jersey.

“Well in that case you’ve got all the luck you need son. My wife is wearing your jersey — honey, come meet Jack! ” he yells at your mom and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment, sending Jack another apologetic smile, and your heart warms at the sweet, easy going grin he gives you, and then your mom in greeting.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him make that much of an effort to keep small talk going as he did with your parents for the next ten minutes. Even going as far as telling your dad that whatever they were gonna order at the bar tonight should go under his tab. You practically had to drag him away when game time was nearing and he had to go.

“We really need to go. I’ll see you guys after okay?” you say hugging your parents goodbye and following Jack out the door.

“Go get ‘em sweetheart,” your dad yells after you, as if you were the one about to play, and Jack laughs softly when you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re really excited to be here, as you can probably tell,” you say bashfully and Jack has the urge to stop in the middle of the hallway and just admire the blush of your cheeks. It’s not often that he gets to see you this laid-back, cheeks flushed, eyes practically lit up with happiness, foreshadows of your dimples, that he now knows comes from your mom, as you struggle to keep the smile off your face. Jack has always seen brief glimpses of this version of you, whenever they win a game, but it’s always there for a split second before you detach yourself and go into work mode.

And Jack is utterly obsessed with that version of you too. The one who doesn’t accept any shit from him or the guys. Who always seems to clean up everyone’s messes, on and off the ice, even if it’s not really in your job description. It’s not that Jack liked that version any less than this one, it’s just that his heart felt like it was going to explode because he’s the only one who has this little piece of you now. None of the other guys have seen you playfully roll your eyes at your dad’s jokes, or the fond smile you get on your face when your mom dotes on you. Only he has that.

“Don’t even worry about it. I wanted to meet them and I’m glad I did, they were awesome,” Jack says and you reach out and grab his bicep, bringing both of you to a standstill.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. You made their night. My dad’s never gonna shut up about this,” you say, squeezing his arm softly and Jack reaches for your other hand, glancing left and right and making sure no one else is around as he intertwines your fingers.

“We don’t show you enough appreciation around here for everything you do for us. For me. This was my way of doing that,” Jack says, squeezing your hand softly and his lungs malfunction temporarily as you step closer and press a feather light kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet when you wanna be, you know.” you say, moving away from him and Jack immediately misses having you close to him.

“Right back atcha,” he says, nudging you softly.

The two of you walk in silence in the direction of the locker room for a bit before he breaks it again and when you hear the words come out of his mouth, you desperately wish he didn’t.

“So the girl that was in the booth with your parents? She related to you?” he asks casually and you squint at him suspiciously as he refuses to meet your eye.

“No. She’s just my dad’s friend’s daughter. Family friend,” you explain and Jack nods.

“She single?” Jack asks and you immediately scoff, your feet coming to a halt at his question and he stops right along with you, sending you a questioning gaze.

“Are you serious right now?” you question, trying to keep the obvious hurt and disgust out of your tone. You lean back against the hallway wall, sending him a glare and Jack grin as he makes his way closer to you, his hands going to either side of your head as he leans his head so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“No, I'm not. I just think you’re hot as fuck when you’re mad, and I happen to know exactly how to push your buttons pretty girl,” Jack says, and your breath hitches as he presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

“But really though, is she single?” Jack asks with a shit eating grin and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you push him away lightly.

“Go you’re gonna be late and you’re gonna get me in trouble,” is the only response you give him

“Wouldn’t dream of it doc,” jack responds, shooting you a grin and giving you a wink as he makes his way towards the locker room.

“I’m not a doctor,” you yell the usual response after him, hoping it’ll stick one day.

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Six

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just haven’t been satisfied with this, but I think I just need to bite the bullet and let it go. I’ve had this in the drafts for a while and have edited it three times.

A/N: I think I might focus on some blurbs. Or, if y’all want, y’all can submit ideas for what Smalltown is gonna be like. I gotta write down a general background for Reader’s childhood there. I have a plan, but wouldn’t mind y’all toss some ideas on to the pile.

A/N: Thank you 🐑 Anon for the happy birthday wishes!

Warning: Kidnapping, Hostage Situation for Reader, Guns, Violence, Death, Yandere Behavior and themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

After the initially panic and dread of being kidnapped settles into Reader’s bones, they’re quickly brought to the Iceberg Lounge. Where a Penguin waits to discuss the details of their ransom with them. He’s kidnapped a Wayne or two over the years, but with how well hidden the family has kept their newest member he might as well scope them out and see if he can make a pretty penny from ransoming them. Give them a proper Gotham introduction.

When Penguin finally has Reader he wrongly expects typical Gotham high society behavior. Threats, insult, bargaining, begging, bribing, hell, even crying. But, Reader, even while terrified, keeps being polite. Referring to him as Mr. Penguin, Sir, and saying please and thank you, while doing exactly what they’re told. Honestly, Reader’s more polite and respectful than half his goons and his own goddamn children. Such a damn shame they couldn’t have been his brat.

So he chats with them. Just for a bit.

How does Reader like Gotham? Who’s their favorite bat brat? What’s their favorite food? How much money did your Momma and Daddy leave you? Just friendly get-to-know you questions to help with the nerves. No need to worry. Everyone’s a bit scared during their first kidnapping. But, do they usually live past the first one, sir? Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t ya? You’ll have to be careful with that.

It’s all quite tense for Reader, just sitting in an empty club with a dangerous man. That is, until word comes in that Bruce Wayne is paying the ransom in full. Apparently, it made Gotham headlines. The newest Wayne kidnapped. It’s all over the News, nearly every channel. Yet, Reader notices something. Why don’t they show my face, sir? It’s because this isn’t going to be your last time getting kidnapped. You’re in Gotham, baby bird. We’re all hostages in this city. How sweet of them to try to protect you from it.

It isn’t long after that, when the lounge gets visitor before the ransom money could even be dropped off.

Red Hood.

One of the Bat Brats, as Penguin calls him. His arrival raising Cain. Rubber bullets and real ones flying everywhere. Penguin gets a hold of Reader, rest his umbrella gun to their temple. Come now, Red. Don’t make me blow their pretty little head off. I’m actually fond of this one. Best of the Wayne bunch, in my not-so-humble opinion.

And, in one of the few times since becoming Red Hood, Jason hesitates. Because if he fails, if Reader gets hurt like he did, he’ll probably burn Gotham to the ground. It’s not an option. He can’t, he won’t, and he will not allow it. And, that thought, is at the forefront of his mind as he looks at Reader’s terrified face with a gun pointed at their head.

The pause, however, is noticeable. Not just to Reader, but to Penguin as well. A sign of weakness or a sign of something more foreboding. It last for a brief moment. Then Red Hood is back in action. Only, in that single moment, a decision was made. A dark decision. Something that had been healed and supposedly buried.

Batman had always fostered the importance of preparedness in them. So, of course, Jason had a magazine of live bullets ready to go for an emergency. And, this was a fucking emergency. Who cares about a few goons? And Penguin fucking deserves it.

Bruce will understand this time. How sad is it that he does?

Penguin barely escapes, with only a handful of his men still breathing and a few bullets in his shoulder, but he lives. Along with the information that the newest Wayne brat is precious enough to a Bat Brat to break the no-kill code again. Though, that might in itself become a problem for Gotham. Once again, Gotham will baptized in blood. Only, the sins are still growing under the red water. Perhaps, this time Gotham will drown in it instead.

Jason grabs a shaking and terrified Reader while leaving the lounge filled with bodies. He’ll take care of it later. Right now he needs to get Reader back to the manor, or somewhere anywhere safe. Away from Gotham, away from its criminals, and, most of all, away from him.

For a moment he had been… enraptured when he saw how scared his precious Reader looked with a gun to their head. How they looked at him with such a pitiful pleading expression. The way the shook and quaked. How fucking big their eyes got in fear.

Reader kept looking at him with those same watery fearful eyes. Those shaking fingers. A tremble that they must be all the way down to their bones. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute.

He didn’t make it for before he snapped, grabbing Reader’s face to ask what they talked with Penguin about. What did he want from you? Why did you look so friendly with him? Don’t you know he’s a criminal. He’s dangerous. He just wants to see them cower like that again. Just once more.

It takes a long moment for him to calm down and pull himself away from terrifying Reader. Eventually, noticing an oncoming storm and realizing he had better get Reader somewhere safe and back to Bruce so he can go back and clean up the trash.

Jason leaves a throughly shaken and distraught Reader on the GCPD roof. Right next to a lit Bat Signal for a tired Jim Gordan to find.

Jim finds Reader in the storm, mildly despondent from the entire ordeal. After ushering them inside and trying to lightly question them, he makes a call to Bruce that Red Hood had rescued Reader and they the GCPD had them safe. Bruce, naturally , breaks all sorts of traffic laws to get to them when he hears the concerned tone in Jim’s voice.

Reader, exhausted from the days events and shock, falls asleep in one of the spare chairs in the GCPD building. Bruce practically melts in relief when he finds them, picking them up and gently loading them in his car. NOT A DAMN TRUCK. To take them back home. Most of the GCPD find the gesture touching. What a sweet father he is. How lucky Reader is to have such a loving father.

Arriving home, Bruce puts Reader to bed, and makes sure Alfred is on stand by to comfort them and see to their every need. Watch them. Let me know if there’s even the slightest sign of a nightmare.

After taking a moment to let his eyes linger on a sleeping Reader, he heads down into the Batcave. Calling the family together for a meeting.

Stephanie is distraught. It’s her fault Reader got taken, all her fault. She shouldn’t have left them alone. She should have been right there be their side the entire time. At every moment and got every second.

And, Bruce, with deceptively calm yet devastating words, confirms just as much.

Surprisingly, there’s no shouting. No disagreements. Not from Stephanie, and certainly not from any one else. Just the cold realization that it was her fault Reader was nearly hurt and the solemn acceptance of it. They were supposed to have a chance to get close. Stephane won’t ever let it happen again. She’ll always be close from now on. In every way she can. Even if she’s not worthy.

Jason having gone back to clean up his mess before reporting back to Bruce and the others had more startling news. No one mentions a thing when they see the blood on him. Nor the empty magazines. Nor that familiar look in his eyes that reminds them of when he first came back. Someone had torched the Iceberg Lounge before he got back. Penguin is still running free, but the lounge is up in fire and smoke.

He did manage to see a figure leaving when he finally saw past the flames.

A Talon.

The Court of the Owls was active once more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

With the whole Kidnapping thing and the Court being active again despite its previous destruction, Reader’s life went on completely lockdown. They aren’t allowed to go into Gotham at all. Not that they wanted to. The only reason Bruce didn’t just unenrolled them from Gotham Academy is because Damian, Cassandra, and Duke vow to watch them closely and report everything back to him.

Alfred, from then on, drives them all to and from school. Leading to quiet, bordering awkward, mornings and afternoons.

After the whole ordeal with Penguin and Red Hood, Reader is ninety percent certain the family is Gotham’s Bat vigilantes. Mainly due to the fact that Red Hood reminded Reader eerily of how Jason acted to be around them. Luckily, he barely managed to hold himself back. But, it was clear, enjoyed their fear and wanted to scare them. The whole situation resulted in Reader’s momentarily loss of control.

It also didn’t help that everyone seemed to disappear now.

Sure, Reader rides to school with Cassandra and Duke everyday. Damian is also there, but he just silently watches them with those poisonous green eyes of his. The three of them now hovering in the distance down the back of Reader’s neck. Nevertheless, as soon as they were all back in the Manor, the place becomes like a ghosttown. Even Alfred disappears for hours on end now.

Reader rightful assumes it’s more Bat work. But, there’s no one there to talk about how the incident made them feel. To help them verbally process the ordeal. It hurts.

What hurt the most, however, was Stephanie avoiding them.

Now, if Stephanie had just given them even an empty excuse and left the room it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much. But, to watch the blood drain from Stephanie’s face at the sight of Reader and then physically run away from them was offensive and down right painful.

Then there’s the additional fact that, coincidentally, Jason starts showing back up at the manor. Undoubtedly, helping the others with whatever they’re doing in the library. But, Reader sees him as more often as they pace the empty halls of the manor. And, that hysterical gleam in his eyes reminds them of that night they were rescued.

Tim has been like a ghost since the beginning of Reader’s stay. Every time Reader seems to make progress befriending him, he disappears. Only to reappear and act like nothing happened. Unnaturally, he acts like they’re somehow even closer than before. Each and every time. Like he’s never let Reader alone. Ever. Like he’s always been there watching. And, then he disappears, again and again. Only staying for brief moments.

Barbara is just a thought in Reader’s mind. Reader has seen more of Jim Gordon, her father, than Barbara in the recent weeks.

Mr. Gordon had been wanting to check in on them after the incident and ask them a few questions on what happened that night at the Iceberg Lounge. He was quite gentle in his interrogation, if you could call it that. Barbara had told him Reader wasn’t used to Gotham’s madness and must be treated gently.

Not to say Barbara isn’t checking on Reader. Tim’s not the only on constantly checking the manor cameras as Reader paces.

Dick was like a stray wind. Blowing through the manor, knocking Reader over with the shower of affection then disappearing again. To the library. To Buldhaven. To the ends of the world and back for all they knew. Unfortunately, Reader was growing desperate for any sense of comfort and would cling to him when he came. You have no idea how happy that made him. It was so cute how sad Reader was when he left now. How nice it felt to be needed.

Bruce was different, though. After the incident, he somehow managed to find a way to suffocate Reader with his presence without even being in it for long. Appearing at random to just watch them before disappearing again. Nothing was ever said. He just watched them then vanished.

Reader dreads having to bring up the whole incident with Penguin and Red Hood to Nana. They don’t want to cause anyone back home to worry. Besides, it’ll just remind everyone about that incident a few years back. The one that Reader does everything to forget about. The incident that would probably change a few things for better or for worse. For the family and for Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, Penguin lives. But, for a reason. Don’t get mad, please. (I did research and found out he was basically Yandere for his mother and killed his father and brothers to have all her attention for himself. And, he has children. 👀)

A/N: Also, reader’s getting some mild tragic backstory. It’s the DC universe. Everything’s gotta have a bit of bitterness. It’s all for the plot.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist:

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury

[crheativity]

Hello how have u been I was wondering if I can request a slightly part 2 of the reader making the overblot squad cute little plushies so wha if the reader makes the plushies clothing and accessories like for vil’s plushie little fake makeup and same clothing he has sorry if my English is bad I’m still learning

SUMMARY: You decide to make the Overblot Squad’s plushies clothes! How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: Oh my GOSH this is such a cute idea!! And no worries Anon, your English is just fine :D I hope you enjoy it!!

Part one - Prefect making the Overblot Squad plushies of their respective Seven member - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

You made his plushie some… clothes? He didn’t even know you could remove her current ones! He would never think to try something so scandalous on his own! Especially not with a plushy of the Queen of Hearts!! Ah, wait- he meant no disrespect! He just meant that he wouldn’t- uh… He’s just gonna stop talking now.

You have to show him how to change his plushy’s clothes – he refuses to figure it out on his own in case someone walks in – but once you show him it’s not like that, he’s more comfortable with it. He doesn’t change things around a lot – maybe whenever you make him a new one. He keeps them all safely in a box under his bed. Occasionally, he’ll take them out just to look at. Seeing them always makes him smile.

You decided to make the powerful, feared and mighty King of Beasts… a hat? And slippers? Hah, you got guts, Prefect. He’s gotta say, he respects it. Alright, he’ll indulge you. He’s slightly surprised at how small yet detailed the accessories are. There’s something slightly endearing about such small clothes… maybe that’s one of the reasons why people like children? Tch. He can’t relate.

Nonetheless, it’s amusing to him what kind of accessories you think of. He’s also not the type to change up the doll’s outfit a whole lot, but he’ll stash them all around his room. Much like the toy, they all smell of you. It’s starting to annoy the other Beastmen. Ruggie’s strongly considering having an intervention.

Prefect… these are adorable! Are you sure you don’t want to sell these? Ah, r-right. Please forgive him for forgetting they were for-... for his eyes only. Please stop looking at him and let him regain his composure. He absolutely loves them! He hopes you know how much of a friend the doll has become to him. He’s starting to tear up, you’re so kind. Give him a minute.

Azul has designated different clothes for different purposes. Before bed, he puts his doll in her pajamas. When he wakes up, he selects her outfit for the day and changes her into it. He does this almost ritualistically every day. Floyd and Jade have teased him for it, but surprisingly, Azul doesn’t seem to mind.

Oh? You made his Sorcerer of the Sands doll some different outfits? Pft– that’s so cute. He didn’t mean to laugh at you – he’s delighted, really! He just… can’t believe that you’d spend precious free time doing something like that. Hey, come on, he’s not judging you or anything, but free time is precious, right? You should spend it more on doing what you want to do. Still, though, he loves the clothes - and finds your cute little pout adorable. 

He definitely keeps them with the doll. Whenever you make him new ones, he’ll pick up the doll and change the outfit. Otherwise, he’ll only change them a couple times every so often. This has given him an idea though. Maybe you’d like a doll too? Then you could match. Although, Ramshackle dorm doesn’t really have a mascot… maybe he could make you a ghost? Or a plushie of Grim? 

(Didn’t he say that spending ‘precious free time’ doing something like ‘that’ was wasted? Point it out to him and he’ll get flustered and walk off in a huff. He will return with a plush and an apology for you two days later. He enjoyed making it a lot.)

You made his doll clothes?! He’s trying not to squeal like a teenage girl. He didn’t know that his doll could change clothes!! Oh, prefect, he loves you so much. He’s going to ask you to make so many clothes, you better be prepared for what you’re getting into!

He, like Azul, changes the clothes all the time and will often just sit down for like an hour and change the doll into perfect outfits. As you could probably guess, Vil LOVES using the doll to try out new looks. Whenever he’s designing an outfit or a piece of clothing, he always asks you to make a small version for him to try out on the doll. This helps him to be able to practise styling them and getting an idea of how the finished piece would look. 

His favourite kind of outfit to ask for, however, is anything that reminds you of fashion from your homeworld.

You made his marketable plushie some marketable clothes?? Oh my gosh. That’s adorable. It’s so small! Looks like those itty bitty cutey kitty clothes– AH– ahem. you didn’t hear that. He definitely wasn’t just having a total fanboy moment. no siree… do you think you could make him an outfit from his favourite anime? that’d be cool, he guesses.

He’s DEFINITELY gonna make the little guy cosplay his favourite characters. Maybe that’d improve his gacha roles even more? Oh he is 100% down to help too. Any clothes that require metallic details he is WELDING that stuff together. It’s so cute how invested he gets in this. Ortho loves seeing his brother get so passionate about this too!

Malleus is DELIGHTED. He was not aware that his little friend could change outfits! How adorable! He loves you so much! He is this close to buying an actual, fully sized wardrobe just for them! …But Lilia talks him out of it. Actual, fully sized wardrobes take up a surprising amount of room. So, he ends up getting two, miniature wardrobes. Which fills about the same space. Lilia’s not sure his advice really worked.

Malleus will now dress up his dolls for tea parties, picnics, or whatever outings they decide to go on. He is constantly surprised and delighted by whatever you make him, although he’s not very good at suggesting ideas. One of the few ideas he came up with was fashionable about a hundred years ago and was a very complicated piece of clothing. However, when he received the outfit, he took great measure to ensure that no harm would ever come to it. 

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Red Sky At Morning | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Discussions of healing from a sexual assault (proceed with caution if this is triggering for you!!! I love you!! Take care of yourself!!!), canon violence, canon gore, spitting insults back and forth with Bela, discussions of dead family members

Word Count: 7523

A/N: I snuck a New Girl reference in here… see if you can catch it ;) Also… there is heavy homoerotic subtext between Bela and (Y/N). Giving my loyal subjects what they deserve lmfao

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Your mind refused to let you rest after seeing Sam leaving in the middle of the night. Despite your exhaustion, you stayed near the window until you saw the car return to its original parking spot around three in the morning. And sure enough, Sam walked out of it, looking severely pissed off. 

‘I’m guessing he didn’t just have a bad hookup,’ you mentally remarked. You stewed for a few more minutes on what he could’ve possibly gone to do before sleep finally came to claim you. You settled into bed next to Dean with a yawn, and his lips twitched upwards in his sleep when you wound your arms around him. 

***

The next morning around seven, you woke up to see Dean shuffling around and packing. 

“Look at you, early bird,” you said dryly, stretching. 

He turned slightly over his shoulder and smiled at you. “We gotta talk about Sam.”

You sat up, immediately alert. “Yeah, I know. I saw him leave last night.”

“And now, one of the bullets is missing from the Colt,” Dean huffed. “Dammit, Sam.”

“Let me take the lead on this one, okay?” you urged Dean, moving to the bathroom to brush your teeth and messy hair. “Promise I’ll let you get your two cents in, but I wanna see if he’ll fess up to it first.”

Dean seemed hesitant, but you saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror nod anyway. He approached you and gave you a kiss on the side of the head; you assumed in assurance that he would do what you said. 

***

Night fell, and none of you had said a word to each other. You sat in the back seat, of course, and Sam was in the passenger’s. You leaned back on the cool leather with crossed arms, waiting for someone to break. 

Finally, you’d had enough. “Got somethin’ you wanna tell us, Sam?”

He turned to you, and it was evident he was playing dumb. “It’s not your birthday, is it?”

You quirked a brow, unamused. “No.”

“...Happy Purim?” he laughed. “Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about—”

Dean cut him off, seeming not to be able to help himself. “There's a bullet missing from the Colt. You want to tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me. I know it wasn’t her. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans—”

“Dean…” Sam sighed. 

“You went after the crossroads demon, huh?” you said as more of a statement than a question. 

“After I told you not to,” Dean added harshly.

“Yeah, well…”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” Dean roared.

“I didn’t,” Sam argued.

“And you shot her.”

“She was a smartass!”

Dean waited a moment, trying to gain his composure. “So, what? Does that— Does that mean I'm out of my deal?”

“Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?” Sam scoffed. “No. Someone else holds the contract.”

“I do believe I already told you that,” you reminded the boys. “And no one will fucking say who.”

“Of course, our best lead would be the crossroads demon. Oh, wait a minute…” Dean snarked. 

“That's not funny,” Sam said dryly. 

“No, it's not!” Dean yelled. “It was a stupid fuckin’ risk, and you shouldn't have done it.”

“I shouldn't have done it?” Sam challenged. “You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, alright?”

The rest of the drive to the next case you’d stumbled upon was completely silent. 

***

You and the Winchesters posed as detectives once more to interview the great-aunt of the woman who’d drowned in the shower. The witness seemed particularly interested in Sam, which you were struggling to hold back a smile over. 

“But I don't understand,” the elegant, elderly woman said. “I already went over all this with the other detectives.”

“Right, yes,” Dean replied. “But, see, we're with the sheriff's department, not the police department – different departments.”

“So, Mrs. Case—”

“Please.” The woman’s voice had suddenly dropped an octave, likely attempting to seem sultry. “Ms. Case.”

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um, you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

She nodded. “I came home; she was in the shower.”

“Drowned?” Sam asked.

“So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?” Ms. Case’s eyes refused to leave Sam. 

“How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or—”

Ms. Case suddenly cut Sam off. “Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?”

Before you could voice your confusion, Dean started talking. “Yep. Absolutely. That's—” he laughed, “Alex and us, we're like this.”

“Why didn't you say so?” Ms. Case grinned. “Alex has been such a comfort. But I’m sorry, I thought the case was solved.”

You shook your head. “No, not yet.” “I see.” The woman seemed a bit dazed.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, anyways, we were talking about your niece.”

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat,” the woman explained. 

“A boat?” you questioned.

“Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a…” the woman trailed off, seeming to search for the word, “—ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.” You noticed that the elderly woman’s eyes still had not left Sam. 

The younger Winchester seemed thrown off by her intensity, and he coughed awkwardly. “Well, um, could be.”

“Well. You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you—” she traced her hand down Sam’s slowly, and you and Dean had to bite back smiles— “Anything at all.”

***

Your laughter burst out as soon as you got down the street and far enough away from the house that the old woman couldn’t see you. 

“What a crazy old broad,” Dean chuckled.

“Why? Because she believes in ghosts?” Sam scoffed.

You and his brother laughed louder. “Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound.”

“Bite me,” Sam grumbled. 

“No thanks,” you smirked, “bet she will, though.”

“So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?” Dean questioned.

The brunet shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job.”

“And what looked like a ghost ship, right?” 

“Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Really?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Every thirty-seven years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every thirty-seven years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

“So, whatever's happening is just getting started,” Dean sighed. “What's the lore?”

“Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman; almost all of them are death omens.”

“So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?” the older brother snarked. 

“Basically,” shrugged Sam. 

“Next step?” you asked him. 

“I gotta I.D. the boat.”

“That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?” you replied.

“I checked that, too, actually. Over one-hundred and fifty.”

“Oh, great!” you sarcastically noted. 

You and the Winchesters approached an empty parking spot, and you got increasingly confused as you did.

“This is where we parked the car, right?” Dean asked. 

“For sure,” you nodded. 

“Where's my car?” Dean growled. 

“Did you feed the meter?” Sam questioned. 

Dean’s voice began to rise in a panic. “Yes, I fed the meter. Guys, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!”

“Whoa, Dean!” you said, grabbing his arm and trying to keep him from pacing. 

“Somebody stole my ca—” Dean bent over to clutch his knees to calm down. 

“The '67 Impala? Was that yours?” A familiar voice slyly asked. 

“Oh, you bitch,” you grumbled, looking up to see Bela Talbot.

“I'm sorry. I had that car towed,” she said. 

Dean shot up. “You what?!” 

“Well, it was in a tow-away zone,” Bela replied simply. 

“No, it wasn’t!” Dean argued. 

“It was when I finished with it,” she smirked.

“What the hell are you even doing here?” the older brother questioned pointedly.

“A little yachting,” she responded flippantly. 

You clicked your tongue, realizing something. “You’re Alex. Workin’ with that old lady.”

“Gert's a dear old friend,” Bela nodded.

“Yeah, right. What's your angle?” Dean cut his eyes at her.

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats,” Bela grinned.

“And let me guess, it's all a con, none of it's real.”

“The comfort I provide them is very real.”

Sam jumped in finally. “How do you sleep at night?” 

“On silk sheets, rolling naked in money,” she scoffed. “Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?”

“You shot me!”

“I barely grazed you.”

“She is right,” you murmured.

Bela turned to you. “Cute. But a bit of a drama queen, yeah?” 

“You do know what's going on around here. This ghost-ship thing, it is real,” Dean pressed.

“I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way,” she said.

Dean looked at her like she was stupid. “It isn't.”

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment, and she's demanding some real answers. Look, just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you. Before they find the arsenal in the trunk.” Bela turned around and smiled over her shoulder. “Ciao.”

You and the Winchesters watched her go. 

“Can I shoot her?” Dean growled. 

“Not in public,” you and Sam replied. 

***

You encountered Bela once more the next day when another man had been killed. She was posing as a reporter, but you and the brothers managed to shoo her away from the victim’s brother. Unfortunately for him, he’d seen the ship as well. 

Thankfully, you’d gotten the car back, and you headed over to it after questioning the man. It was parked a distance off from the buzzing crime scene, enabling Dean to begin loading shotguns in the back of his car. 

“I see you got your car back,” Bela’s frustratingly beautiful voice cooed. 

“You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?” Dean growled. 

“Now, now. Mind your blood pressure,” she quipped. “Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat.”

“That guy back there saw the ship,” you explained. 

“Yeah? And?” 

You blinked at her, slightly stunned by her coldness. “And he’s going to die. We have to help him.”

“How sweet,” she mockingly pouted. 

“What is wrong with you, man?” you asked her. 

She ignored you. “He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it.”

“But why not at least try?” you argued. 

“Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun,” she grinned tightly. 

Sam and Dean moved to either side of the car, but you weren’t done with her yet. 

Dean seemed to know what you were up to as he watched you intently, saying,

“(Y/N)—” but it was too late. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened to you to make you such a heartless bitch, but I really and truly hope you heal from it soon. ‘Cause you’re a completely miserable person to be around,” you called after her. 

She turned around to you sharply with her arms crossed. “Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I am. In fact, I know I’m not. But at least I own it and try to be better.”

“Come on,” Bela scoffed. “You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're all a stone's throw from being serial killers. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job, and I do it. So, you tell me, which is healthier?”

“Oh, god, if I didn’t hate you so much, we’d be such good friends,” you said, a lilt of sincerity in your voice. “But I gotta tell you, man, I’m really not concerned with which is healthier. I’m not even concerned with which is more “morally ethical.” What just… puzzles me about you is how you think that nasty attitude shields you.

"These two might not be able to see it,” you continued, nodding at Sam and Dean, “but I do. You are quite genuinely disappointed in yourself. I get it. The economy sucks, the bees are dying, and movies are all pretty much sequels now. Gotta put food on the table some kind of way. But why do it your way when you can’t even stand to look at yourself in the mirror? Pride. Because without your money and your attitude, you know you’re not half the woman you claim to be.”

“You talk too much,” Bela spat, clearly affected by your words. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time,” you smirked. “See ya around, Alex.”

***

Later that night, you and the Winchesters decided to stake out the home of Peter Warren, the man you’d spoken to earlier. He was next on the chopping block, and you desperately hoped you’d be able to stop the ghost in time. 

You knew that whatever Sam and Dean were talking about, they would catch you up later. And so, you decided to let your thoughts drag you into your own mind. 

You were aware of how harsh you’d been on Bela. The truth be told, you didn’t hate her at all. In fact, you admired her ambition. However, everything you’d told her had all been your real perception of her. You knew that everything about her was a facade. And for some reason, she really got under your skin. 

You supposed it was because you saw yourself in her. Maybe, if things had been different for you, you would have ended up just like her. Maybe you didn’t like seeing your reflection in her. 

“Hey, you!” someone called from outside the Impala. 

“I think we've been made,” Dean said to you and Sam. 

You followed him across the road to where Peter stood, yelling.

“What are you guys doing?! You watching me?”

“Sir, calm down. Please,” Sam coaxed, but to no avail. 

“You guys aren't cops!” he continued. “Not dressed like that. Not— Not in that crappy car.”

“Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty.” Dean cut his eyes at Peter.

“We are cops, okay? We're undercover,” Sam bluffed easily. “We're here because we think you're in danger.”

“From who?!”

“If you just settle down, we'll talk about it.” Sam led you and his brother into the gate, backing Peter closer to his car.

“Look, you guys just stay away from me!” Peter exclaimed, getting into the vehicle to drive it toward the gate.

“Wait!” you called.

“Hey, you moron! We're trying to help you!”

“Not helping, Dean!”

As the car approached the gate, it shuddered, coughed weakly, and died. 

“That can't be good,” Dean noted. 

“Not at all,” you replied. “Get the salt gun.” Next, you ran to the car to help Peter. In the seat behind him, a man with sunken eyes and dripping wet, long, black hair dressed in old sailor’s clothes appeared. Then, it was next to Peter in the passenger’s seat. You tugged on the handle with all your might, but it wouldn’t budge. Horrified, you watched as Peter slumped to the steering wheel with water pouring from his lips. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean called from behind you. 

You ducked just in time for Dean to fire at the ghost from the passenger’s side door. 

Reaching through the broken glass, you hurriedly unlocked the door. You immediately dragged Peter out onto the concrete and put your head to his chest, listening for a pulse. He had none, but you tried CPR anyway. Of course, it was no use. Defeated, you looked up at Dean with sad eyes. 

“Dammit!” he growled, kicking the car in frustration. 

***

You hadn’t spoken much after leaving Peter behind. It felt awful to leave him on the ground, but there wasn’t much you could do with his body if you wanted to evade suspicion. 

Luckily, Dean had found a house to squat in a few days earlier, and that was where you were readying for bed. 

The house had clearly not been lived in for some time, and you were thankful you made the brothers start keeping air mattresses on them for instances like these. 

You and Dean took the upstairs bedroom, and Sam slept in the one downstairs. The house was still furnished, but dust covered every surface. You decided to leave the cleaning for tomorrow and opted for a “ho bath” as your mother used to call them since you refused to step foot in the unclean shower. 

Cross-legged on the air mattress, the hair you were in the midst of combing through waved gently in the wind coming through the open window. 

“You wanna say it, or should I?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you as he entered the room after his shower. 

You tilted your head at him, confused. 

“You can’t save everybody, sweetheart,” he reminded you. 

“Dean—” You rolled your eyes. 

“What? Don’t gimme that. I know you were thinkin’ it,” Dean said, getting down onto the mattress next to you. He lounged back on the crook of his arm behind his head, leaning against the wall. 

You couldn’t meet his eyes and kept your body facing the open window on the adjacent wall. “I just… It feels like I can’t save anybody lately.”

Dean stared at you intently; you could feel his gaze burning a hole in the side of your head. 

You returned to brushing your hair, and he sat up to sweep it all over your shoulder opposite him. Dean kissed your newly-exposed neck gently, as if he was savoring the way you felt against his lips. Your brushing slowed, and you tilted your neck further to give him more access. 

He kissed up to your mouth; his kiss gentle there, too. When he broke away from you, Dean leaned his forehead against yours. 

“What are you doing to me, sweetheart?” His voice rumbled lowly in his chest, almost as if you weren’t supposed to hear him say that.

You responded by nudging his nose with yours and then pecking his lips. 

Something in the way the two of you kissed felt somber. Granted, almost every day recently seemed to have a somber element. Every day meant one step closer to Dean’s time being up. It was the elephant in the room that was only acknowledged for fleeting moments. And when one did acknowledge it, the other would beg for it to be over. While both of you knew talking about the situation was necessary, neither of you could bear it for longer than a few minutes every once in a while. 

You brought this up to Sam the next morning, who sat with you on the couch as the sun rose while Dean continued to sleep. 

“I think he just wants to be with you,” Sam said. “I mean, with Jess… when I was dreaming about her dying, all I wanted to do was be with her. To… reassure me that wasn’t real. Or, wasn’t real yet, I guess.”

You nodded. “And I don’t necessarily want to talk about it for extended periods of time. Talking about it makes me feel more in control, I think. I just don’t like feeling fucking helpless.”

“Trust me, I don’t either. And Dean definitely doesn’t. I tend to micromanage more than he does, but…” he shrugged, trailing off. 

“I have something else to tell you,” you began, wondering if you should even continue. 

“Go ‘head.”

“Back at that… prison. The guard I beat up? He, um, he raped me.”

“Oh, my god,” Sam breathed out. “God, (Y/N/N), I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine. That’s not the point.” You scrubbed your hands down your thighs anxiously. “I’m telling you because I don’t wanna talk to Dean about it. I mean, with the deal and everything else going on… I almost don’t wanna burden him with it? I mean, he knows, obviously, but… I don’t know, I just feel like I have no right to be struggling compared to him.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Sam scolded gently. “(Y/N), neither of us could ever imagine what that’s like. And if my idiot brother is making you feel that way—”

“No, no, he’s not—”

“—Good! ‘Cause I’d kill ‘im if he was,” Sam finished. It was honestly the most riled up you’d seen him in a while. 

“Thanks, Sammy,” you smiled weakly. “It’s just… it’s all so much right now. I wanna enjoy every second of my time with Dean. But between the deal and hunts and… that and everything else on the goddamn planet consuming me every second of the fucking day, it’s really hard to.”

Sam eyed you sympathetically.

Before he could respond, you took in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “Anyway, what’s up with Peter and his brother? I know you researched ‘em yesterday while I was zoned out in the back of the car.”

Sam still seemed like he was wrapped up in your earlier conversation, but he knew better than to force you to keep talking about. “Oh, yeah, uh… they came into, like, a hundred and twelve million after their dad passed. That was really the only thing interesting. Everything else about ‘em was clean,” he informed you. 

“Huh,” you considered. “Any connection between the vics?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Far as I can tell, no.”

“Awesome,” you dryly stated. 

You then heard a groan come from upstairs as someone began to descend the staircase. 

“Morning, Dee,” you called up. 

All you got was a grunt in response. 

***

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, wrapped by Dean’s arms as he held you to his side. The two of you were just sitting with each other and thinking; a pastime that you were becoming quite fond of.

Dean’s lazy circles he was tracing on your outer leg stopped at a knock on the door. 

You shot Dean a look and stood, grabbing your gun off the worn coffee table. You pressed it to the back of the door and peered through the peephole to unfortunately see Bela. At this revelation, you made a face at Sam and opened the door. 

She strolled right in. “Dear... god. Are you actually squatting? Charming.” Her self-satisfied smirk never left her face. “So, how'd things go last night with Peter?”

You refused to dignify her with a response as did Sam and Dean. 

“That well, huh?” she taunted. “If you say 'I told you so,’ I swear to god; I'll start swinging,” Dean growled. 

“Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart,” she sighed. 

“Oh, sure. We can sing kumbaya while we’re at it,” you quipped. “Cut to the chase, Bela.”

“Temper, temper,” she tsked. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Such as?” Sam questioned.

“I've ID'd the ship.” She unwrapped a leather case containing a quite elaborate file. She spread the papers within it across the table. “It's the Espírito Santo: a merchant sailing vessel; quite a colorful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was thirty-seven.”

“Which would explain the thirty-seven year cycle,” Sam noted.

“Aren’t you a sharp tack?”

You snapped, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

She ignored your comment. “There's a photo of him somewhere…” she flipped through the file and finally settled on a picture of a much drier version of the man you’d seen last night.

Dean looked to Sam. “Isn't that the customer we saw last night?” 

“You saw him?” For once, Bela seemed surprised. 

“Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand,” the older brother nodded. 

“His right hand?” Bela questioned.

“How'd you know?” you returned. 

“The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory,” she explained. 

Dean childishly laughed. “A hand of glory? I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week.”

“Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful,” Sam lightly chastised. 

Bela rolled her eyes. “So they say.”

“And officially counts as remains,” Dean considered. 

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together. “But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims.”

“I'll tell you why. Who cares?” Bela said curtly. “Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.”

“I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?” you asked.

“Because I know exactly where the hand is,” she nodded. 

“Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help,” she said, closing up the file.

Sam crossed his arms. “What kind of help?”

The woman smiled. You hated how charming her smile was. You wanted to hate her so badly, but she was growing on you.

‘Definitely like a wart. Maybe a fungal infection,’ you thought.

***

“I hate this plan,” you said. 

“I don’t think you realize how often you say that,” Dean returned. 

You glared up at him while you helped adjust his tie. He looked completely beautiful, and you wanted nothing more than to keep him here with you and ravish his body. 

Bela’s brilliant plan was bringing Dean as her date and forcing Sam to go with Ms. Case to a charity event. However, given Bela and Ms. Case could only take one guest each, you were forced to sit this one out. Or, at least, that was what Bela thought; you knew she could’ve gotten you in if she really wanted to. You knew she was attempting to humiliate you or put you in your place after what you said to her. However, if there was one thing you knew, it was how to crash a party.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Dean asked you. 

“You,” you smiled lopsidedly up at him. 

He smirked down at you and kissed you. He held you by your waist as close to him as he could get you, and you returned the gesture by gripping his lapels. 

“What is taking so long?” Bela called up the stairs, forcing you and Dean apart. “Sam's already halfway there... with his date.”

“So not okay with this!” Dean yelled back, and you giggled, resting your forehead on his chest.

“What are you, a woman? Come down already.”

Dean looked at you— for approval? For reassurance?— and headed down the stairs. He adjusted his cufflinks with you trailing just behind him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Bela looked beautiful in her evening gown and glittering jewels, of course, and you hated her all the more for it. 

“Alright, get it out,” Dean encouraged you and Bela. “I look ridiculous.”

“Not exactly the word I'd use,” Bela sighed. 

Dean’s nose crinkled in disgust. “What?”

“Y’know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex,” Bela stated plainly.

“Don’t objectify him!” you cut her off; perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. 

Both Dean and Bela stared at you in questioning. 

“Let’s go,” Dean told Bela. “See ya, sweetheart,” he called back to you as he followed Bela out the door. He tossed one more longing look at you over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. 

You immediately sprinted back up the stairs and took out the evening gown you’d been hiding in your duffel bag. 

***

After having snuck into the party through a window on the back of the museum that security had neglected to cover a door anywhere near, you casually slipped down the hall into the ballroom. 

You could see Dean, Bela, and Sam bickering near the entrance to the grand ballroom, and you smiled lopsidedly at the sight. Sam then caught sight of you moving through the crowds of people toward them thanks to his superhuman height, as did Bela and then, Dean. Bela crossed her arms angrily, but you were focused on Dean and trying to fight a smile off your face. 

Dean seemed to be breathless. “Damn, (Y/N).” 

“Damn, yourself.” You turned to Bela. “Great party,” you commented, taking a glass of champagne off a passing tray. 

“Thought you were supposed to be waiting back at the house,” Bela replied. 

“And miss all the fun? No thanks,” you smirked, taking a sip and staining the glass with red lipstick. 

Ms. Case then came up behind Sam holding two glasses of champagne. Before he knew it, he was being whisked away by his date. You giggled at the sight, and Bela rolled her eyes. “C’mon,” she told Dean. 

You were delighted, actually. For once, you got to enjoy a fancy party without having to partake in the hunt or any sort of planning the heist. All you had to do was make sure no one got arrested. 

You hung back on a far wall, sipping your beverage and watching a disgruntled Sam dance with a very handsy Ms. Case. 

‘Dean would be pissing himself,’ you thought, giggling at the sight. 

The next thing you knew, the old woman was whispering in Sam’s ear. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep the laugh from bursting out. 

And then, your joy was smothered. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” a man said, having come up next to you. 

“Go away, please,” you snapped, beginning to feel tension grip your throat. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but he was reminding you of what happened to you at the prison. Perhaps it was the way he approached you?

“Okay, then, Jesus,” he muttered and was gone soon after. 

Your breathing began to slow, but your discomfort continued. Your heart rate remained elevated, and your mind felt in a fog. You returned your focus to Sam and Ms. Case once more trying to keep your mind grounded in the present. 

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your elbow. You whipped around and threw a punch, catching the attention of several people around you.

“Whoa!” Dean said, catching your wrist and dodging your fist. 

Gaze landing on those beautiful green eyes and freckles that you had come to love so much, your breathing finally slowed. You began regaining awareness of the world around you and tried not to shrink under the stares of the wealthy around you.

“Way to not draw attention there, (Y/N),” Bela commented. 

Eyes like daggers, your head snapped toward her. “Watch your fucking mouth,” you hissed.

She seemed to realize she’d crossed a boundary, and she backed off. “I’m gonna go get Gert a cold shower,” she quipped, her pride refusing to admit she knew she was wrong. 

You stared after Bela mindlessly, and Dean put his first and middle finger under your chin to turn your face back to him. Your eyelashes flickered, and he searched your face for clues as to what triggered you. 

Sam came up beside you and Dean. “Guys? Uh, hate to interrupt, but… let’s get outta here.” 

You and Dean followed his gaze to one of the women you’d seen whispering and pointing at you after you threw a punch at Dean talking to a security guard and pointing at your trio. Dean instantly grabbed your hand and began leading you out of the museum. 

When you arrived at the car, Sam turned to you. “You okay? Saw you try to deck Dean back there.”

“Yeah, uh… this guy just—” you ran a hand through your hair and sighed— “Nevermind. Let’s see the hand.”

Both boys dropped it, although you knew Sam would probe you further later. 

“Yeah, tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing,” the younger brother commented. 

“I got it... Mrs. Who?” Dean wondered. 

You giggled. “Great Expectations?” you prompted.

Dean just stared at you blankly. 

“Charles Dickens?”

He blinked. 

“Dude, did you pay any attention in high school English?” Sam scoffed.

“Sure I did!” the older brother defended. “Caroline Stone sat in front of me; she was my tutor. Fucked her in the janitor’s closet and everything—”

“Oh, yeah, you were definitely paying attention to something,” you deadpanned, lightly flicking him on the shoulder. 

He rustled around in his suit jacket, rolling his eyes, and took out something wrapped in a handkerchief. Dean’s amused expression soon melted into aggravation as he did so.

“What?” you and Sam asked worriedly. 

The older Winchester held up a glass bottle with a miniature ship rocking around in it. “I'm gonna kill her.”

Behind Dean, you saw something on the horizon line. The museum was expectedly located near the water given its emphasis on seafaring history, and your heart dropped when you realized what was happening. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered under your breath. “Dean— Dean, I see it.”

“See what?” he asked, following your gaze. 

“The fucking ship, Dean. It’s the fucking ship,” you breathed out.

“(Y/N), that’s it,” Sam realized.

“What’s it?” you questioned frantically, eyes still on the water.

“Ms. Case said the Warrens? The brothers? It was rumored they killed their father for his money. And Sheila? She got in a car accident. Her cousin Brian was with her, and he died. That’s the pattern.”

You nodded slowly. “Killing family members. Awesome.” You shook your head, turning to the expensive car next to you. “Fuck!” you yelled, punching the door of the car. 

***

You paced around the room, Sam trying his best to keep you and Dean calm while he researched. 

“Y’know what, you’re right. I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture's the way to go,” Dean growled. “I’ll fuckin’ string her up, I swear to—”

“Dean, look, you gotta relax,” Sam sighed, although he seemed stressed as well. 

“Relax!” Dean laughed coldly. “Oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax. My fuckin’ girl’s just on Davy Jones’s hit list, and I can’t do anything to stop him because I lost the only fuckin’ thing we could use to save her. Fuck!” There was suddenly a frantic knocking on the door. Disgust burning in your eyes when you looked through the peephole, you opened the door for Bela. 

“Just let me explain,” she said. “I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed.” 

Dean was completely furious, and he stalked around her. He made a shooting motion with his fingers which would’ve pulled a smile for you had it not been for your situation. 

“So you needed a cover for the charity ball,” you spat. “And we were convenient.”

She nodded reluctantly.

“Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back,” Sam implored. 

Bela shook her head woefully. “It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time.”

“In time for what?” Dean questioned. 

Realization struck you, and you began laughing coldly. “Oh, okay. You saw it, too.”

She looked up at you, and for the first time since you’d met her, Bela looked terrified.

Dean whistled lowly. “Wow, you know, I- I knew you were an immoral, thieving, con-artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower—”

“What are you talking about?” she cut him off. 

“We figured out the spirit’s motive,” Sam began, putting a photograph in front of Bela. “This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy.”

“So?” she prompted. 

“So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood. See, first, there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance. Then, (Y/N). And now you.”

“Oh, my god,” Bela breathed out, seeming to breeze right by the fact that you’d seen the ship, too. 

“So who was it, Bela? Hmm?” Dean taunted. “Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?”

“It’s none of your business,” she defended weakly. 

“It is our fuckin’ business,” Dean snapped, suddenly leaning on the arms of her chair. “(Y/N) saw it, too. And I don’t give a damn about you. But (Y/N)... is…” he trailed off, shaking his head and hanging it low, seemingly overcome with emotion. “And you just sold the one thing that could possibly save her life.”

“Well,” Sam said, “maybe not the only thing.”

All three of you turned to face Sam questioningly. 

***

Kneeling on the soft grass beside the grave of the captain, you helped the boys set up a ritual circle under the light of the full moon. 

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Bela asked worriedly, standing to the side. She pulled her jacket around her shoulders tightly.

“Almost definitely not,” Dean grumbled, looking over at you. 

You smiled weakly at him trying to reassure him that you would be okay.

Thunder clapped unexpectedly, and the wind whistled around you. Rain began to pour, soaking you to the bone in an instant.

“Sammy! You better start reading!” Dean ordered, pulling you up from the ground and shielding you with his body.

The younger brother obeyed, and then, Bela shouted, “Behind you!”

Dean was immediately flung through the air away from you, and you wheeled around to see the ghost you’d seen at the Warren’s house. Before you could raise your gun to shoot him, he put his hands on either side of your head. Immediately, you began coughing up water. It felt like your throat was closing as the air slowly left your panicking body. 

Dean staggered over to you and tried to support you through your heaving, shuddering breaths. “Sammy, read faster!”

Black spots began to form in your vision, and you were sure it was the end. Then, the rain died down. The wind billowed gently, and the spirit’s head turned slowly toward a creaking sound.

“You... hanged me!” the spirit cried at his brother. 

“I’m sorry,” the captain responded pitifully. 

“Your own brother.”

“I’m so sorry!”

The spirit charged his brother, leaving you a sputtering mess on the floor. You heard the two men scream, and then, they both went quiet. 

***

After parting ways with Bela for the evening, you returned to the house for a few hours of sleep. However, laying next to Dean— the moon illuminating his freckled skin and occasionally-fluttering eyelashes, breaths deep enough to move his chiseled shoulders along with his chest— you couldn’t sleep. Since he’d drifted off about an hour ago, you’d been lazily stroking his hair; the two of you facing each other. 

Then, Dean took in a deep breath, stretching out on his back. It became clear to you that he’d woken up, though his eyes remained closed, when he kissed the inside of your wrist. Soon enough, his breathing became steady once more. He kept you snuggled tightly into his right side; legs intertwined and breathing beginning to mirror each other’s. 

And then, it hit you: you’d felt oddly at peace, as much as you’d tried to deny it, when the ghost put his hands on the sides of your head. Even when you were in excruciating pain— lungs burning and eyes watering— you were almost relieved. Because if you’d died tonight, that meant you wouldn’t have to live without Dean. 

***

Given your realization the previous evening, you wandered around in a daze all morning. You had never enjoyed depending on others. Needing help was so pathetic in your mind, and you refused to ask for it. Despite the way you encouraged Dean to open up and accept help, you couldn’t take your own advice. After your mother’s devotion to your father led her to standing by idly while her two children were beaten black and blue, you swore that you would never let a man rule your life in any sense of the word. And now, Dean was consuming you. 

However, this devotion didn’t feel hopeless. It didn’t feel messy. You didn’t feel your essence deteriorating while he hacked away, carving space and indelibly marking your soul. This devotion was welcomed. Allowed. Encouraged. You were willingly handing your beating heart to him, and you knew you could take it back at any time.

Before Dean, you never trusted anyone. You would never have allowed someone to walk beside you through Hell before you met him. Try as others might have, Dean was the only person to mesh harmoniously with your body, mind, and soul. 

When Bela came to say her goodbyes, though, you forced yourself out of your thoughts. After she’d thoroughly amused Dean with the ten thousand dollars she gave the three of you to repay her debt, she swaggered out of the door. You surprised even yourself when you followed her out. 

“Bela!” you called.

She turned back to you. “Sorry, darling, all out of goodies for the day—”

“I don’t want your money,” you cut her off. “I wanted you to know that… whatever you did, I understand. The boys may never, but I saw the ship, too. Whether we like it or not, we’re pretty similar; you and me.”

She seemed stunned by your admission. 

“Take my number,” you told her, pressing a piece of paper into her hand. “If ever you feel like slummin’ it for a crappy beer in a dive bar. Or if you run into any more ghost ships.”

That stunned Bela even more as you turned on your heel and headed back inside. 

*** “Seriously? Atlantic City?” Sam scoffed. 

Dean had you speeding toward a casino with the money Bela gave you as night fell that evening. “Hell yeah! Play some roulette. Always bet on black.” He paused for a minute, allowing the air to shift in the car. “Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking. Um... I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon.”

Sam sighed, much to your surprise. You figured he’d be thankful to hear Dean’s admission. 

“Y’know, situation was reversed,” Dean continued, “I guess I'd 've done the same thing. I mean, I'm not blind, I see what you're going through with this whole deal; me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay.”

Sam looked upset at that. “You think so.”

“Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know, you live your life. You’re stronger than me.” At Sam’s scoff, Dean exclaimed, “You are! You are. You'll get over it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I’m sorry for... putting you through all this, I am.”

“Y’know what, Dean? Go fuck yourself,” Sam spat. 

“What?” Dean questioned. You were stunned as well.

“I don't want an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself,” Sam continued his tirade.

“Oh, well, excuse me,” Dean grumbled. 

“So would you please quit worrying about me?” Sam shouted over his brother. “I mean, that's the whole problem in the first place. I don't want you to worry about me, Dean, I want you to worry about you! I want you to give a crap that you’re dying!”

“He does, Sam, knock it off!” you jumped in for the first time. After all, it was you that had planted the seed to Dean that he should have apologized to Sam.

Dean said nothing, and you could tell by the smirk on his face that he wouldn’t be displaying vulnerability with Sam again for quite some time. 

“So, that's it? Nothing else to say for you?” Sam pushed. 

“I think maybe I'll play craps,” Dean stated.

Outraged, Sam just stared at him in complete disbelief. He turned to the window, and you continued to watch Dean. His smile faded to a steely, difficult-to-read expression.

Sighing, you settled stretched out across the seat and crossed your arms over your chest. Dean’s eyes met yours briefly in the rearview mirror, and you saw a flicker of his real feelings— hurt, betrayal, fear— cross his face before his expression returned to unreadable. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[forwntrx]

GIRLS LIKE GIRLS ┊͙˚. 10. ON MINE

𑁍┊flashing lights (written portion)

you loved being an idol. most days. today might have been the day you looked back on the years spent and regretted it. for a moment, you thought of ignoring your schedules and staying in bed.

would it hurt, just for one day? to finally sleep and get a full eight hours? when was the last you had that luxury?

but then you remembered who you were and what you signed up for.

you got up.

your manager rushed you out your apartment. birds chirped and sat on branches. the rest of the girls were too sleepy to speak. the clock had barely stuck four. you took your normal window seat on the left side of the van.

minjeong yawned and offered you a soft smile.

you try to fake one back.

she rested her head on your shoulder and fell right asleep.

you looked down on her and for a moment, forgot about your worries. she looked so peaceful this way. there was no pain or exhaustion. you wanted to be like that too.

minutes later, you fell asleep.

the peace didn’t last long. an hour later, your up again, and being pushed back and forth by grabby hands. loud, brash photographers scream for you to look different ways. you hate it.

the bright lights, the obnoxious entitled voices.

your managers persistence. sure, it’s his job, but you still hate it.

you try to force a smile. jimin had to push you forward to make you pick up speed after the lights subsided. it was kind of like you were frozen?

this was unusual for you.

you didn’t spend much time with paparazzi. you got in and out. you didn’t care for the lights, you didn’t care for the attention. you were like a machine.

she asked you about it later.

“you all alright?”

she was behind your chair. your hairdresser had left to go pick up some pins from the other side of the room. you looked at her through the mirror. you two had barely talked today.

but that wasn’t strange. it was still early morning, seven o’clock at best, maybe around eight. you still had another ten+ hours to enjoy her company.

jimin was beautiful, she always was. but in stage makeup she was different. classic eyeliner, long eyelashes, and pouty lips.

“yeah, i’m fine.” you lie easily.

jimin stared at you. then rolled her eyes.

“you’ve gotta sleep more.”

you shrugged her off. as always. you turned away and fixed a random part of your makeup that surely didn’t need any adjustments. you always stood out the most in the group. it was your appeal. that’s how the company sold you. they wanted you to be ‘the star’.

that was the plan since debut, but you were always happy as you were.

your hairdresser came back, and you made sure to keep a half-ass smile on your face. you laughed the best you could, and only frowned when you were alone. no one bothered you with questions. no thought to ask.

you were good at hiding. even jimin just chalked it up to morning slug.

“aespa on in 5!”

they rush you back and forth. the live crowd went crazy. they scream your parts in the song the loudest. for a moment, when you perform, you feel alive.

you hit every beat. your muscles move on their own now. when the camera spins to you, you make it your bitch. it’s the only thing you know how to do.

you belt out the finishing notes, and the camera ended on you.

but then the moment is over.

you don’t remember what anyone said to you, or how you ended up back on stage, but they’re counting down on something and then there’s a pop—confetti blowing around the stage, and you blink and realize where you are (the encore?).

who was your competition? you turn to your left. lesserafim. your eyes scanned across each member. yunjin. you look for her.

you caught her eye. she was the farthest to the left of you. she smiled as soon as your eyes met, and whispered something to you. congratulations?

you manage to whisper back. thank you.

she frowned. what’s wrong?

the music of your song played.

you don’t respond back to her.

as soon as you get off the stage from the encore, she’s there waiting for you. for some reason, you don’t try to hide it from her. you rest your head in her chest. you don’t realize your crying until you feel that her shirt is wet.

why the hell are you crying? you lean forward, and try to wipe away your tears, but yunjin grabbed your hands.

“let’s get out of here? yeah? i wont tell jimin as long don’t tell chaewon.”

she wiped away your tears for you. she held out her pinkie.

“deal?”

you smile. and then nod.

“deal.”

𑁍┊i wonder (written portion)

your phone was dead somewhere. disappearing was insanely easy. your managers were slow, and yunjin called an uber faster than they could run down the street.

you both wandered around seoul for a bit. it had been a while since you could properly enjoy the city. you both shared a couple of laughs—ate some convenience store ramen, and shared a strawberry flavored ice cup.

the seoul air started to chill, and you ‘mistakenly’ leaned closer to yunjin. you smirked when she blushed. too cute.

“how mad are they at us?” yunjin asked as you both crossed a street.

“on a scale of 1/10?” you said.

“yeah.”

“probably like a 15.5.” you said.

“why the .5?”

“the .5 is because of what we are about to do.”

yunjin gave you a puzzled look. you smirked and pulled her down the street. luckily, you were around your company building. of course, you did your best to avoid going through the lobby. the backdoor always came in handy. you even took the secret elevator absolutely no one took. sm would never fire you, but you sure as hell would feel their wrath.

“shit! shit! yunjin! go back!”

company security rounded one of the corners and stopped. they peered back and forth, suspiciously eyeing all the corners.

you both stuffed down your giggles.

“anyone here?”

yunjin, on the other side from you in, in another corner made a face at the security guard. she pointed to his bald head and you tried your best not to lose it.

the security guard ended up shrugging it off, and continuing to another floor.

as the elevator sound dinged. you both lost it and spurred into laughter.

“your the absolute worst.” you complained.

“I’M THE WORST? your the one who has sneaking around YOUR company building like we’re james bond?” yunjin snorted.

you led her into another hallway with a series of doors. the lights were dimmed. she closely looked into one of the rooms and her face shifted. the same one she looked into, you opened the door of and held it for her.

“we came here so you could do more work?” she looked at you with hesitation. “why don’t we do something fun?”

you walked into the room.

“or, we can do this. this is nice too.”

you chuckled. “i’ve slacked off the whole day. a little bit of work won’t kill me.”

yunjin let you do your thing. for the most part, it was calming to mix and produce your own music. it was something you loved and had a passion for. it was always good to have someone else with you too. you asked for her input on the tone, the general feeling of the song, and some of the sections you had already completed.

her head bopped to the song. she shook her head in disbelief. as it ended, she looked at you like you were another disciple of jesus.

“are you kidding me?”

“what?”

“you’re so fucking good.”

“i know.” you laughed.

she shook her head. “this is golden. i want this song. sell this to me. my members would go crazy.”

“uh uh, aespa needs another win.” you grinned and took off the headphones from her ears.

yunjin rolled her eyes. “yeah, we’ll see next week.” you loved the friendly competition. you loved the way she would smile after, and the way her nose would scrunch—wait. you what?

you tinker around with the song some more, and for some reason, you end up out of chair and on the floor. yunjin also (for some reason) ended up right next to you, feet dangled in yours, crossed up and mixed like a puzzle.

you enjoyed being this close to her.

she smelled like—coconut, maybe vanilla, or maybe you were just making that up because she was just so sweet. you could see it, maybe even taste it. it was in her laughter, and her smile, and the way she cared. as you spoke the way she never took her eyes off you, the way she would flick a piece of lint off your shirt.

she was sweet.

“thanks for spending the day with me.” you said after a comfortable silence engulfed you.

she hummed. “don’t mention it.”

“no really.” you turned to meet her. her eyes focused on yours. “i needed it.”

she leaned forward.

you stopped breathing.

she kissed your cheek. her lips were soft and pink. “don’t mention it.” she repeated softly.

your eyes wandered to her lips. you wonder what her lips would feel like on your own.

𑁍┊masterlist －previous — next

yn has bad days like anyone else.

MHMMMM LETS GET INTO ITTT

what else is there to say, heheheheh

𑁍┊a/n: i missed this smau so much

𑁍┊ taglist: CLOSED! @runawaymazola @wintersgff @winieter @luvjanexx @justme-idle @sewiouslyz @lcv3lies @yerisdumbass @nasyu-kookies @kchwnsgf @jeindall777 @dr-wholehearted @thoughtfulqueenlady @yunalvrrr @juhyunsthirdwife @haerinfangs @awkwardtoafault @idk-idc-rn @unforgiven-000-hotline @dream-chasers-things @pandafuriosa60 @1r3n31ty @aeongiies

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

AND IN THEIR TRIUMPH DIE | chapter 1

— Seven years after the Outbreak, all efforts to find a cure have been unsuccessful. Nearly a forgotten pipe dream, it's kept alive by a small team of scientists scattered across the country and fiercely guarded by what remains of the military. It was coincidence that brought the missing piece to the cure into the hands of Levi Squad. It was sheer misfortune that it would carry him across the country.

[ WORD COUNT: 4.3k ]

[ levi ackerman x fem!reader ]

[ TAGS/WARNINGS: violence, loss of a limb, cursing, reader described as severely malnourished, mentions of contamination from germs, awful descriptions of lockpicking, levi definitely has anxiety. please continue with caution if these are sensitive subjects for you <3 ]

“Christ!—Levi! Watch out!” 

Fifteen minutes.

No pause.

No reprieve.

Just a full-blown sprint.

“Pick up your goddamn feet, four eyes, or I swear to Christ, I’ll feed you to the assholes myself!”

The formation was ruined. The plan went to absolute shit. 

“I’m trying—he’s heavier than he looks, ya’know!” As though he wasn’t carrying him too.

“Mikasa will kill us if we bring this sorry sack of shit back in more than two pieces—if I don't get to you first.” Levi decided to spare himself the wasted breath of adding that the kid had an extra foot of height and one hundred pounds of weight on him, and he still was not struggling the way they were.

“Levi!” Their leader chastised, jamming his blade through the sinus cavity of a particularly soft-headed Runner. “Leave Hange be and move it. Or have you forgotten what we're doing here?” There was an authoritativeness there that was hardly ever used on him.

Perhaps the jab was poorly timed. 

A pained yelp escaped from the boy as the pair had to lift him over fallen debris. Levi’s unfortunately small build meant he had to assist for a moment and put weight on his injured leg to clear the obstacle. “It’s okay, Eren. Just hang on—me and Levi gotcha. We’re almost there.” He could only respond with a groan.

(If only he knew it was a damn lie.)

(He probably did.)

He was going into shock.

“Erwin,” Hange cried, “you gotta give us something here.”

“There’s more buildings around the corner.” He was so out of breath. His words hardly made sense: “They can't all possibly be boarded up.”

Too much was happening. Too much had already happened. Too much that could not be undone, and too much would haunt Levi for many sleepless nights to come. 

His group of six turned to four, with one member rapidly approaching an involuntary amputation from a tourniquet fashioned from a decaying leather belt and a hacksaw, and Levi with a nasty sprain—he could hardly remember how it happened. He was sure that if anyone other than Erwin and Hange were left, he would've been long dead and beginning incubation.

It all happened so quickly.

They were so quiet. 

It was only a few seconds; he knew that for certain.

The last thing he recalled was Hange rambling about their breakthroughs in stimulating fine motor skills in newly turned Infected—how it’s another lead for the cure. Levi only half listened, briefly catching another one of their theories about recovering explicit memories in different regions of their brains. None of it made much sense to him, and he stopped trying to decipher it for several years now, having long given up on Hange’s ability to further any research for the cure—not because he doubted their intelligence but because a cure was impossible. Eren was complaining about the heat—understandably so, as Virginian summers were known for their brutality. Erwin walked by Levi’s side in silence, aside from his periodic warnings to Hange and Eren to keep their volume to a whisper and their occasional gripe in response. The remaining two members (they arrived only two weeks prior, much to Levi’s disdain. It was their first run.) hovered near the back line and listened in on the periodic childish banter between Hange and Eren, though they were primarily distracted by an old Tamogachi they found tucked inside of a rusted-out Nissan.

They were the first ones to go. 

Their screams were the only signal to the other four that Infected were on their asses.

Eren, a notoriously suicidal maniac and practically a child that Levi knew was not ready for more challenging runs, tried saving them.

He was going to lose his leg for it.

Most likely his life too.

In the chaos of it all, thoughts of Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and Jean—the faces of the people he’s spent the last seven godforsaken years with—filled Levi’s head. And in that split second, he became reckless. He made an uncharacteristically impulsive decision based on his own feelings rather than what he knew made sense. He should have left the brat behind to suffer the consequences—he knew that made sense. He would have done it with nearly anyone else. But in that split second, he thought of how he watched those insufferable brats at home (though he isn't sure he truly thought of them as such anymore) all grow up together; how they were still just a bunch of damn kids sitting together at the dinner table; how Eren’s mother brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes and gave him her only hair tie to make sure he could keep it out of his face; he thought of how he was supposed to tell them—to tell his mother that Eren was dead because he was too practical to do anything about it.

He knew he wouldn't be able to. 

In that brief moment of distraction and all-consuming empathy, Levi went for Eren, knowing if anyone had a chance at getting him out of there, it would be him.

In the end, Levi misstepped, suffering a nasty sprain in his ankle. Eren was still bitten, and he was still going to die regardless of his interference.

(Why was he never fast enough?)

Their formation couldn't hold with just the three of them. There was no one for backup, no room for error, and no window to fight. Their only option was to run and drag Eren along.

“Why the hell didn’t you let Erwin handle him?” He was never great at holding his tongue in moments like this. It seemed as though he saved his breath specifically to spend on berating his companions when all hell broke loose.

(Hange was used to it at this point.)

Sweat poured down Levi’s forehead, burning his eyes and obscuring his vision as he supported well more than half of Eren’s weight on his left side. With every step he took, Hange seemed to support less and less of his weight. His ankle screamed in pain with every step, the potency of adrenaline having worn off as a painkiller. His hand was sweating as he held his machete, which was missing an approximate half of the blade, and he struggled to keep it in his grasp while he stumbled through the broken, pothole-infested city streets.

(Apparently some of the skulls were too hard for a half-rusted blade.)

(Or perhaps the machete was too dull after slicing through nearly twenty Infected. No matter, a portion of Levi’s blade was forever embedded in the nasal cavity of a freshly turned Runner in a mechanic’s jumpsuit.)

“You're useless with your ankle like that, and I’m out of ammo, and my pack is—”

“I fucking know the situation, four eyes!” 

“Then why are you asking—!”

“Hange! Levi!” Erwin, forever the voice of reason, shouted, “That’s more than enough! You can bicker when we're safe.”

At the same time, Levi spoke: “Why are you the only one struggling!?”

“LEVI!”

He decided to silence any further complaints, not wanting to endure another lecture when—if—this was over. He wanted to tell Erwin that if safety is what they're waiting for, then he may as well cut out his tongue now and spend the rest of his days in silence. He reckoned Erwin would have an infuriatingly eloquent response along the lines of, ‘I fail to see how that would differ much from your usual day-to-day, Captain.’ And—as much as it pained him to admit—Hange was right. His ankle put him in no position to be leading them through the city or carving through Infected, Hange was out of ammo and lost their supply bag to the pack behind them—it wasn't looking good for the three of them, but Erwin had the best chance of guiding them to safety.

“There!” Erwin shouted. “Up ahead, to the right—that hardware store!”

For the first time in about one hundred yards, Levi looked ahead of him as opposed to Eren’s bleeding, rapidly discoloring leg and the potholes littering the streets. The first thing he noticed was the wooden planks, chairs, tables, and various couches blocking the entrance of every store lining the downtown. Then he noticed the barricades did not look all that old—maybe two weeks. It wasn't an uncommon sight… at the start. Plenty of larger communities were holed up in cities and downtowns, capitalizing on the space and sewer systems below, when everything first started. It seemed practical at the time.

Those communities typically failed within the first couple years. He hasn't heard of a successful one in the area in at least four years. It should have looked decrepit.

Not recently vacated.

And then he noticed the lone storefront Erwin was locked on. With no planks, no furniture to block the entrance, only a chair pushed a few feet off to the side, a thick line of chain link between two door handles, and a padlock hanging in the center. And he noticed how strange that was.

Out of the dozens of buildings we’ve run past, why is this the only one? And was everything so boarded up when we scouted this last month?

Levi had a bad feeling about this, one that made his stomach ache. “We should find another.” When did his voice become so hoarse? It felt as though he had swallowed razor blades.

“What? Are you crazy?” Hange added.

“Something isn't right here, Erwin.”

“We’re not arguing. Levi—take care of that lock. Hange—you take my weapons and hold them off. I’ll hold onto Eren.”

Levi had a bad feeling about this. It seemed no one else did. 

He passed off Eren to Erwin, who was able to hold him in his arms with what seemed to be little to no effort despite his fatigue, while Hange (who was objectively the best shot, aside from Levi) fired off rounds into the crowd of Infected. 

“Levi,” Erwin called, dragging out the last syllable to feign placidity. “How close are we?”

He was too absorbed in selecting the right pick to respond.

“Hurry it up, shorty; we only have so many rounds left.” 

“Can it, four eyes! Just- just hold them off.” His fingers weren't as deft in lockpicking as they used to be, having been years out of practice. Infected rapidly closed in on them, their groans echoing off the buildings and the stench of death emanating from their decaying maws, making his hands shake and his stomach turn. Or maybe it was the lack of food. Oh God, was he panicking? The situation was fucked; he knew that—was it worse than even his own consciousness knew?

God, when was the last time Eren made a sound? Was he still alive?

Were they all going to die?

Was it all for nothing?

“LEVI.” Erwin shouted, squaring his shoulders, preparing for the likelihood of having to toss Eren to the side. Fuck, what was happening to him? He never lost his nerve. He never panicked. Had the pain from his ankle left him delirious? 

“Hold the fuck on!”

“I’ve got six left, headshots or not; I can't handle them all!”

They were getting closer. They were so much closer. He still had three out of four pins left, and he was almost confident that his rake pick was not meant for this lock. The relentless groans of Infected began to sound more like a steady roar—like he was a child holding a seashell to his ear in one of his nightmares—and distracted him from the task at hand.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath from his stomach, like his mother always told him as a child. Fear has never been a luxury that was afforded to him.

The second pin gave way.

“Almost there.” His voice finally steadied.

Images of his mother flashed before his eyes. Why would he think of her now? 

And the third.

“Erwin, get ready to bar the doors!”

Only one more left.

"Hange, grab that chair; we can use it to brace the handle.”

Snap.

And the world seemed to stop for a moment.

Levi wasn't sure what he was actually looking at. He thought he was seeing one half of his lockpick in his palm while the other was broken off inside the lock, with no feasible way of removing the thin piece of metal to retry with another pick—but that wasn't possible. No. No, he was about to have the door opened, and the four of them were going to be inside in just a few seconds. They were going to perform a shoddy amputation on Eren’s leg, wrap up his ankle, and find a way out of the city and back to their camp. It surely had to be fatigue, dehydration, or early signs of a heat stroke because Levi did not fuck up like this when lives were on the line.

(There was only one accident.)

(But he was better. He got better, and it was so long ago. He made a full recovery, and he vowed to never make that mistake again.)

How was he doing it again? 

“FUCK.” 

“Levi, what happened?!”

“The goddamn pick broke off in the lock. I can't get it out.” 

He was sure he would never forget the looks on their faces if they managed to live past this. Erwin’s shoulders dropped, his eyes closed, and his brows were slightly furled. It was almost as if he were wincing away from Levi’s words—maybe even Levi himself. Hange’s jaw dropped, their eyes as wide as saucers underneath their glasses, with a look of pure shock. Eren, who remained mostly out of it, tensed his jaw. 

He could feel their disappointment in him.

They were all going to die.

It didn't matter how strong he was; it didn't matter how good his aim was; it didn't matter how fast, silent, knowledgeable, or small he was. None of it mattered. It was never going to be enough in the end.

It wasn't before. He wasn't quite sure why he thought it would've been different this time.

“Alright… We hold on as long as we can. If we’re going to die today, then we take as many of the bastards with us as we can.”

“What makes you so certain we’re dying today, Commander?” Levi said, slowly bringing himself to his feet, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Aww man… I was really looking forward to examining that bite wound.” Hange pouted. 

“We’re soldiers, Captain. We’re certain to die every day. But give your heart here today, and we might live to see one more.”

That son of a bitch. Even knows how to make dying seem like a contribution. “You sound ridiculous.”

They were closing in.

The stench was nearly unbearable, and Levi hated the thought of walking around as one of those disgusting creatures. He’d rather burn in Hell than suffer such condemnation. He hoped someone would put him out of his misery soon enough.

The machete would have to do. Hange emptied the last of their rounds into the monsters and took out a small blade they kept sheathed on their thigh. Erwin was left without a weapon. 

“OVER HERE.”

A shrill voice called out to them, nearly sounding like an angel amidst the chaos.

“Follow me!” It only took a single glance between the three of them to agree to follow the voice. 

Erwin continued with Eren in his arms, while Hange braced Levi to help him run faster. They were led down a narrow alleyway, then to the right, and then left, all while the ravenous hoard stayed close on their trail. The sharp turns of the blocks helped deter them, but it wasn't enough. The pain in his ankle was nearly unbearable, and sweat burned his eyes, but it was too late to stop, and turning back wasn't an option.

“Here!" the voice called. A large, metal door was opened, and the four of them were being taken into what seemed to be a poor excuse for an office. No sooner than the door slammed shut did the Infected begin beating, clawing, and banging on the door, making the whole room feel tense. Levi looked between Hange and Erwin, who didn't appear to have any bites, scratches, or open wounds from their final sprint.

And then his eyes shot to you. 

The first thing he noticed was how concerningly malnourished you were: dead eyes sunken into deep sockets, collarbones protruding beneath the collar of a thin, long-sleeved shirt with half-rolled sleeves, limp hair on your head, and an excess of body hair covering what was visible of your skin—you were slowly starving to death. The next thing he took in was the pistol on your hip and the knife on your belt—both contained and clasped within a holster. He didn't overlook how your hands shook as you held them out in front of you. In fact, your entire body was wracked with tremors. It seemed that the dead sprint back to your base (for lack of a better word) took the last scraps of energy your emaciated frame held. Your eyes drooped, your shoulders sagged, your head seemed too heavy for your neck, and you looked slightly disoriented.

It was a miracle you made it to them to begin with.

By all accounts, you were no threat to them.

Levi reckoned even Eren could overpower you in his current state.

However, in Levi’s current state, that didn't matter.

What mattered was Eren's leg. The discolored veins radiating from the bite on his ankle and up to his calf. The tourniquet that Hange tied from their belt and the dirty rag stuffed in his mouth to keep him from biting his own tongue off when the sawing started. The dull hacksaw and the last of their rubbing alcohol being poured on its blade. Hange’s heavy breathing. The five hearts beating in the room and the four that meant anything to him. The knowledge that it was up to him to make sure Hange was not disturbed while Erwin held him down. The stench of rot that was invading his senses. The sheer adrenaline pumping in his veins and a faint throbbing in his skull that reminded him of how hungry he was.

What mattered was you—who you are and who you were. Where you came from. Why you helped them, and why you waited until the last second to do it. Why you were starving but surrounded by a surplus of food. What your motive was for saving them. When you planned to show your hand and what cards you would be holding. If you were bluffing or holding a full house. 

What mattered was that you were an anomaly. 

The last of his energy was shifted into you, and he began invading your space, doing his best to fight off the pain in his ankle and subsequently noticeable limp in an effort to intimidate you. His efforts were not in vain, if the way you backed into the wall behind you was any indication. But there was an unsettling look in your half-lidded eyes that gave him pause—something wild that told him he had just cornered a stray animal that had nothing left to lose.

(He knew what he needed to do.)

(He knew how to tame a wild animal.)

He continued his trajectory forward until your spine was flush with the wall. Leaning slightly on his toes, Levi caged you in with his forearm against the base of your throat and his broken machete kissing the bottom of your jaw. What he lacked in height, he made up for in strength as you desperately tried to claw his arm away. He nicked your skin as a warning, as if to tell you that one more wrong move would end with his blade piercing through your jaw and kissing the bottom of your soft palate. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I'm not sure that's how you talk to someone who just saved your ass.” You hardly had the energy to speak. Up close, Levi could see the deep cracks in your lips and the discoloration under your eyes. You were trembling and on your last leg.

“Oh yeah? And how would you talk to someone holding a knife to your throat?”

“Touché.” You whispered, breathing heavily.

The silence, while only lasting a few seconds, spanned an eternity while the two of you were locked in a staring contest. No one dared to move. No one dared to speak.

“Eren, you're going to need to breathe for me. Can you do that?” Hange’s voice broke the silent battle. All he could do was whimper behind the rag stuffed in his mouth. “Bite. Hard. This is going to hurt.”

They were going directly below the knee. It’s possible he would've only lost a few inches above his ankle had they gotten away sooner. 

“What are you doing to him?”

“None of your business, rat. Where’s the rest of your people hiding?”

“I’m alone.”

“Bullshit.”

Levi vaguely registered Eren’s breathing picking up behind him. His heart hammered into his throat.

“Okay, Eren. On the count of three...”

He was already screaming.

“One…”

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing to him?”

Levi pressed even harder into your throat, effectively cutting your air supply and forcing broken coughs from your chest. He tried not to wince at your spit landing on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Two…” 

He was sure he had never heard someone scream like that. And God, has he heard his fair share.

“Three.”

A bloodcurdling, agonizing scream came from him. Something entirely inhuman, too monstrous to even have belonged to one of the Infected.

And then nothing.

“What the hell, four eyes?”

“He’s passed out. Probably the best we can hope for. But he’s losing too much blood.” Levi reckoned that was an understatement, considering the sheer amount covering the floor, Erwin’s pant legs, and Hange’s arms.

“I have a Bunsen burner.”

“Did I say you could fucking speak?”

“Wait, we need that. We're going to need something to cauterize this, or he’s never making it back to camp. But—wait, there's no gas lines in here, the thing is useless."

“Don't need it. It's just a glorified camp stove—butane-powered but does the same thing.”

Another moment of tense eye contact was shared between the two of you—yours still wild and Levi's still scathing.

“Where?”

“Desk. The middle drawer. Right side. Matches should be there too.”

Levi jerked his head towards Erwin, who understood the silent signal and went searching for the burner.

“Are we gonna find something in there we don't like?”

“Christ, I’m the one that went out of my way to help you.”

“Not what I asked.” He applied another small amount of pressure to your jaw. “Try again.” 

“...no.”

The slamming of a drawer and the relieved sigh from Erwin told Levi that he had found the torch. After a few moments of rustling, Levi heard the gas ignite and looked behind him to see a flame burning. It wasn't much, but it would certainly heat up a blade.

Eren, thankfully, remained unconscious for the rest of the procedure, and Hange managed to—mostly—cauterize the wound. He was far from stable, still subject to turning, and heaving shallow breaths.

(Somewhere in Levi’s heart, he knew this was a win.)

As Hange carefully wrapped Eren’s leg in a clean shirt they borrowed (read: stole) from you, Levi—who never turned his blade from you or lifted his arm—directed his attention back to you.

“We're going to try this again. What's your name?”

“Blue.”

“The fuck kind of name is that?”

You did not deign to answer him.

“Alright, Blue. Where are the rest of your people?”

“I already told you, I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah, you're alone. Now, tell me the truth.”

“Levi.” Erwin said, still crouching on the ground with Eren. His fingers were around his wrist, checking for signs of a pulse. “Leave the girl alone. We’d be dead by now if it weren't for her.”

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Shut the hell up.”

And for the first time since the five of you entered the room, you listened to what Levi said on the first go. Begrudgingly, he removed his forearm from your throat and lowered himself back to the soles of his feet. Only then did he seem to remember the searing pain in his ankle and collapse to the floor when putting his full weight back on the joint.

“Levi!” Hange called to him, but they were unable to go to him with Eren’s head resting on their lap. 

(His hair was up, just as his mom told him to.)

The adrenaline was worn off, and the pain was too much.

“Levi, when is the last time you've eaten?” 

Two and a half days.

Unbeknownst to Hange and Erwin (or so he thought), Levi was skipping out on his portion of the already slim rations to ensure enough was left for the others in their group.

If the plan didn't go to shit, it would have been fine. He would have indulged upon their arrival at the comms site.

He would have been fine.

He continued to tell himself as such, as the sides of his vision blackened and his ears rang to the pitch of Eren’s screams.

[ a/n: oh boy oh boy! as i'm positive you can tell, we're taking heavy inspo from TLOU here and by inspo I mean we're basically shoving AOT and TLOU into one universe

we're going to be miserable here <3 ]

masterlist and new updates coming soon

[loosesodamarble]

Not sure if you take these kinds of requests, but I figured I'd give it a shot because I like your blog and love Nacht and it's hard to find good content for him.

But what are your headcanons on how Nacht would be if he ended up liking someone in the Black Bulls, they are sweet, confident, intelligent, a light user (just for the irony). But he learned that Nozel Silva has his eyes set on them as well?

I know it's a weird ask. I'm sorry. I just have a hard time writing him.

Hiya there, Anon~! I've never received a request like the one you sent in but I'm definitely gonna try giving my all in fulfilling it. 😤 Gotta make the good Nacht content that I'm not seeing, I guess.

Now, onto the headcanons.

..........

Nacht vs. Nozel for a Crush's Affections

To start, Nacht never thought he'd fall in love. Not with how heavily his heart is burdened.

But then the Black Bulls gained a new member: you, a Light Magic user with a bright smile. And it makes Nacht's heart hurt at first.

Nacht does his best not to seem like he'd avoiding you (when he is because he's still working through his issues). But eventually, you approach him.

"I was wondering why you never talked to me so I asked the captain and... I heard about your brother," you'd say with a faint, sympathetic smile. "Just remember that I'm not your brother. But still, take all the time you need to get used to me. When you're ready, let's try to be friends."

The immediate understanding. The unspoken forgiveness. The gentle offer. It's what gets Nacht to finally approach you himself.

As you and Nacht grow closer, he grows to cherish your kind smile. You impress him with your keen mind, using knowledge recalled from books to solve dungeon puzzles or strategizing for battles. And your confidence makes all your other traits shine brighter, taking his breath away.

Nacht even opens up to you about Morgen. He doesn't get into deep detail, but you learn the general flow of events involving Nacht taking up Forbidden Magic and Morgen's eventual death.

While Nacht sheds tears, once again mourning his brother, you take him in your arms and softly tell him that you know the man Nacht is now, so regardless of his past, you'll stick by his side.

After Nacht's cried himself dry, he finds you again to make you swear to secrecy and you blink and go "Wait, did I see anything that should be a secret?" You wink to him to let him know you know what he's talking about and that his secret is safe with you.

He loves your intuition and how much he can trust with you.

Eventually, while watching you happily chat up Knights from other squads at a Magic Knights function, Nacht realizes he's in love with you.

Nacht decides he's going to confess you. He's spent too much of his life avoiding his feelings for the people he cares for. So he won't waste time with you.

That's when Nozel approaches you. He bows like a gentleman and even greets you with a kiss on the hand.

Seeing that makes Nacht's world come to a screeching halt.

He watches you and Nozel chat. Nozel seems to come to life around you and you're grinning back at the Silver Eagle captain. You both were enjoying each other's company.

Nacht tries to keep his anxiety down, rationalizing to himself that you and Nozel are just friends. That the kiss on the hand was just part of formalities. He didn't want to accept the possibility that...

Nacht ends up leaving the function early because he needs to be on his own to calm down.

The way Nacht sees it, Nozel has so much more to offer you than he did. While Nozel still isn't the best person, at least Nozel didn't cause Noelle's death. And where Nacht is a disgraced noble and was a non-presence for the Bulls for seven years, Nozel is a royal and the hard-working captain of his squad.

For the next few days, the vice captain of the Black Bulls is moping around, listless and lost in thought. He can't compete with Nozel. The most he can do is wish you the best with the prince.

You end up finding Nacht and sit down with him. You don't ask what's got him so upset. Just sit and talk and let Nacht know that you want to see him relax. That you look forward to smiling and laughing with him again.

And that resonates with Nacht. He's reminded of how much you mean to him. He remembers his desire to grow from the gloomy man he was before. And he resolves not to give up on winning your heart, not yet.

"Thank you, my friend," he whispers to you and you say "you're welcome! I knew you just needed a pep talk!"

Some time later, Nozel turns up at the Black Bull base, looking for you.

Nacht approaches Nozel and asks what exactly the Silver Eagle's relationship with you is. Nozel's answer, "We're friends at the moment, but I'm working up to courting them."

Nacht takes a deep breath, looks Nozel directly in the eyes, and answers, "Then let the best man win."

From that day onward, Nacht puts his all into winning your heart the way you've completely won his. If he's to be perfectly honest, he feels like he was at a disadvantage. But he's still trying for you.

Nacht takes full advantage of the fact that you and him are part of the same squad. He offers to work with you on various missions. He sits next to you during breakfast. He definitely shows his bias towards you over the other Bulls. He'll remember all your favorite things and give you appropriate gifts whenever he gets the chance.

Whenever you ask about him and his own life, he lets down his walls and tells you whatever you want to know. Nacht wants you to see all his sides because he wants you to love all of him.

Despite worrying about losing to Nozel, Nacht doesn't get in the way if you ever want to spend time with the Silver Eagle captain. He knows you wouldn't appreciate him being clingy/jealous.

You would for sure take notice on Nacht's increased attention towards you. Nacht isn't good at hiding his favoritism.

If you ask what's gotten into Nacht, he'll half tell the truth-half lie. "I want you to know how much I care about you." He's not about to unveil the him vs. Nozel drama! 😬

Nacht and Nozel definitely have an RBF around each other, might even become a glaring contest if they're in the same room.

It's a tense but respectful rivalry. They both acknowledge each other as a formidable rival for your heart.

Each time you throw yourself into a hug with Nacht and exclaim "This is why you're my favorite person," Nacht feels his heart race more and more. And he feels like you might just love him back.

There's still a fear in Nacht's heart. A worry that you'll end up choosing Nozel over him. That all his love will go to waste.

[apompkwrites]

the shroud experiments: testing || idia shroud

masterlist characters: idia & ortho (platonic) genre: angst contains: needles, mentions of blood, (name) being replaced/neglected, bordering on suicidal ideation(?), blot creatures :D summary: (name) shroud proceeds with their experiment. however, proper research is required before the experiment can commence. notes: i couldn't wait!!! so here's shroud's test! have had this idea for so long and now it's here!! just gotta wait for the results ;)) parts: [og post] | [the unwanted shroud (1)] | [the shroud experiments: pre-test (2)] | [the shroud experiments: testing (3)] | [the shroud experiments: results and findings (4)]

it used to hurt. the needles pricking at your skin, the armband squeezing just a bit too tight on your upper arm, and so on. but now, it felt wrong to not have those little bits of "pain" flood your system daily.

the little glass vials that held your blood sat perfectly in the case, preserved pristinely with your vitals floating above them in bright blue screens.

everything was ready. after hours and hours of preparation, it was ready. all of what you needed was here, waiting for you to finally go through with your experiment. all you needed to do was--

tend to the blot creatures that cried out and rattled the bars on their cells. of course, you couldn't neglect them. as much as you wanted to go through with the experiments, you needed to subdue their cries, lest a member of s.t.y.x, or seven forbid a member of the shroud family, come down to check on the commotion.

you couldn't let them find out about what you wanted to do.

and so, you took your routine walk through the halls, feeding the creatures portions of the food you had neglected to eat in favor of setting up the final preparations. your stomach growled every time you tossed the food into the cells, as if it were begging and pleading with you. but you couldn't care less.

in fact, it was best for your body to be empty. you wouldn't want anything to go wrong and halt your plans.

sometimes you felt like the creatures knew you better than the shroud family did.

they seemed to keep their gaze on you longer than they usually did, cooing and gurgling at you louder than normal. you still had trouble deciphering what exactly they were trying to tell you without them gesturing (or perhaps they were just flailing) but it felt as if right now, they were worried. as if they knew how bad this experiment could turn out and how it was out of your hands if it did.

you could only placate their worries with hollow lies and false promises.

"i'll be back in a bit, don't worry."

"calm down, nothing's gonna happen."

"everything will be fine."

maybe you said these in an attempt to reassure yourself as well. in the end, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

it was odd being on a floor other than the one you were banished to years ago. perhaps they were more lenient on security once they realized that you stayed down there willingly instead of resisting.

nevertheless, it made everything so much easier for you.

your footsteps made no noise, which was lucky for you considering how many echoes there were in these halls. the walls were still lined with photos of the shroud family. however, they all seemed incomplete. of course, you only realized that because you were there for those photos.

the ones that contained the entirety of the family only showed two children; idia and ortho. your body had been covered with pieces of tape and paper stuck against the glass of the picture frames.

it would have stung years ago if you had seen the changes in the photos. now it just felt right. you didn't dare look at the face of the child who murdered their younger brother.

when you began walking towards the bedrooms, you took more caution in passing them. you felt the most fear when passing the shroud parents' bedroom, their lights on and shining from just beneath the crack between the door and the floor. the next room was ortho's.

or, rather, his old room. no one touched it since the incident. that much was obvious considering the stickers you and he had stuck on the handle were still in perfect condition.

the one that followed was ortho's room again. this time, it was his shrine. the dreaded photo of a smiling boy with barely sharp teeth and bright blue flames seemed to mock you as it stared down. what was even eerier for you was the fact that you couldn't hear him like you could in the cells.

it took a bit for you to tear your eyes away from the door, letting them land on the room you had been hoping to get to the most: idia's. his lights were on, which wasn't exactly the best sign for your plan.

but, you couldn't risk turning back now. who knows what would happen if the security was stricter than it was right now?

you turned back towards ortho's second room and rushed inside, not taking a second to think about whether or not you were worthy of stepping into it. however, that thought didn't have a chance to resurface the moment you saw what was inside.

instead of what you expected, which was a room full of ortho's photos and favorite items, you saw a room full of technology and screens. you recognized what was on those screens, too.

vitals and blueprints.

"this..." the words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could even register them. "this is ortho's new room..."

the sudden realization dawned on you: they had completely overhauled your room to make it his. the reason his old bedroom had remained untouched was not that they could not stand the idea of stepping foot in there again. no, instead it was because he had been moved to your old room. it was made to house the new ortho you had caught wind of the rare times one of the shroud parents came to deliver you food.

the reason you wanted to sneak into idia's room was not in his room to begin with. it was all here.

how convenient.

sure, it probably wasn't the most up-to-date plans you desired, but you would take what you could get. without missing a beat, you rushed over to the screens and began to jot down what you could. the sketches were messy and illegible but that didn't matter. all you needed were the basic components and instructions to build it. you didn't care how it looked as long as it worked.

as long as it kept your soul alive.

your copies of the blueprints would not amount to the success that idia found in making a new ortho. you knew that. you never were that good in building technologically like idia was. no, instead, you found it easier to research a different topic.

the transfer of life.

ever since the incident, you threw yourself into researching this topic, spending countless days and nights experimenting on some of the smaller blot creatures that were on the verge of death. it wasn't until one or two years into these experiments that you succeeded in transferring life for the first time.

the blot creatures may very well hate you now, at least the ones that you managed to “resurrect”. but, with the findings that research had gotten you, you couldn’t care less. besides, the blot creatures would have no effect after your experiment was complete. granted, that would only be if the experiment went well.

if it didn’t… well, you would have to wait and see how the shrouds would handle that.

vitals recorded and stored in database.

“let’s hope this works…” you only had one shot at this. if the experiment failed, seven forbid, your soul would be somewhere that no one could reach it. although, that outcome isn’t the worst.

memory transfer takes five hours in total. start up takes six hours. idia shroud truly was a master at this. you could only hope that this version of the blueprints still holds up.

you clenched your jaw, the needles poking at your skin once more. this time, however, it hurt. it hurt more than the first time you had done this. was this a sign it was working or that something was going wrong? regardless, you could not spare a second.

you had to do it. With a simple press of the button on the blue screen, your mind went blank.

and it felt like your soul was being sucked out of your body.

“idia! someone was in the hallway!”

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @bajifairyy @mulandi

[ateez-himari]

[Archive] 'Tunnel' by Mingi - The Story

...

"It was tough for me to see a single letter so I sent it all away, I guess I can't get used to being left alone..."

It had been weeks since every single one of their interactions was inevitably cut short by the man's cold responses, the widening void in their friendship slowly tearing at the young woman's already fragile heart. To the audience it was undoubtedly a result of dating rumors circulating through social platforms yet she knew better than to fall under this belief, than to dumb down her friend's suddenly dismissive behavior to not wishing to be mistaken for her romantic interest.

'Mingi can I come in...' She asked sheepishly, a trembling hand giving her bandmate's door a light knock. 'We need to t-'

Without giving the anxiety riddled maknae a chance to explain the reason behind such a sudden intrusion the door swung open to reveal the man's annoyed expression, silently motioning for her to come in with a singular nod of his head. They had spent around two years building a close connection to one another yet now she stood awkwardly in front of his bed where he took a seat, fidgeting with the edges of a sweater he had let her borrow and was now long forgotten.

'So what do you want ?' He asked plainly, looking off to the side of the room. 'Can you make this quick...I was planning on going out soon.'

'Why have you been acting like a complete asshole lately ?' She blurted out, the honesty behind her question taking both parties aback. 'I mean...all of a sudden you just start ignoring me, not even talking to me unless you really have to...did I do something ?'

From sunrise to sunset, this moment... Why is my heart so void ?

With a clench of his jaw the man ran a ringed hand across his pursed lips, a heavy silence settling across the room whilst he looked for a way to phrase his answer though still not making an effort to meet her saddened eyes. The young woman however did not seem to have the same control over the emotions screaming inside her mind, all competing for dominance over one another, as she kept blinking to keep warm tears at bay.

'You're just too clingy.' Mingi finally spoke up. 'This is exactly why people start dating rumors...because you can't seem to stay away from me for a single second. I mean come on there's seven other members, can't you go bother one of them ?'

Everything I said was a lie... Everything right at this moment.

Deep down he wished to take the group's youngest into his arms, beg for her forgiveness regarding all the times he had made that beautiful smile falter, yet pushing her away seemed to be the only way to protect them both. Despite acting like he held not a singular regard towards how she felt, he could tell that the influx of negativity was slowly wearing her down and he could not let rumors about their alleged relationship contribute to this weight - no matter how much he wished for them to be true.

I gotta get outta fucking love...

'I just...' Too choked up to form more than a few words, Himari simply lowered her head. 'I'm sorry, this is my fault.'

The man's resolve was rapidly growing thin, the more rational parts of his conscience pleading for him to just explain everything, fully aware that she would understand, yet his tongue seemed to find harsher words by the moment. It had been months now since the realization that it was no longer simply friendship but love that he felt for the vocalist dawned on him, months since he had promised himself to do whatever was necessary to never let his heart feel this way.

'I knew adding a girl to this group was a mistake.' He spat out, a lump forming in his throat. 'If you got nothing else to say then get out, my hiatus is soon and I have to pack.'

I let you go like nothing happened... But then at the end of it all a piece of you still lingers.

Not willing to let tears fall in front of him no matter how deeply every single one of his coldly spoken statements cut, the young woman hurried out of the room and into the one she shared with the two oldest members. Within a moment of shutting the door her body slid down against the wooden surface, knees curling up to her chest as poorly silenced sobs echoed through the empty dorm.

Now left completely alone with the guilt of what he had just done, the rapper angrily hurled a nearby book at the wall as tears of his own stained the hand he had brought over his face. Everything aspect of his head was in complete disarray and nothing made sense anymore, not the reason behind his rash decisions, not the harshness of his words, not even his feelings towards someone he had sworn to their manager would never be anything more than a bandmate.

It will be empty, hopefully Then it will be filled again, even if it hurts. I'll eventually have to face reality I'm sure that it was just a dream deep inside my heart.

Himari would never find out that most of his hiatus was filled with days drowned in alcohol to forget everything that had taken place between them, to forget how much he wished to kiss her delicate lips and apologize a hundred times over.

Mingi would never be told the amount of days during which she had been woken up by anxiety induced nightmares believing that his mental struggles were her own fault, nor would anyone dare to mention the psychological diagnosis sitting on her desk where 'major depressive episode' was permanently engraved in ink.

At first the rapper's phone would light up with messages from the maknae every few days about the smallest things, though the fear of saying something stupidly hurtful stopped him from ever replying. In the midst of the hiatus' timeline however her name no longer appeared at the top of his screen in the morning and neither were aware of how often the other's finger hovered over their contact.

A/N: Please note that this in no way depicts the real reasons behind Mingi's hiatus (or his personality) nor is it the song's true meaning! It is simply a work of fiction and should be read as such. Thank you! ♡

[monosanimegenericzone]

yknow what fuck it.

manga speculation time as the october release draws ever closer.

but read it how you want bcs this can be taken in or out of its context.

who can actually handle hisoka in the instance of a 1v1 in the phantom troupe.

hisoka knows the abilities of 7-8 members of the troupe by the time they part ways in yorknew city. four of which are already dead so he knows at least 4 more. information to hisoka is basically like an instant win unless you discombobulate him enough with overcomplicated strategy like Chrollo did.

the only four safe from hisoka's intel are: Bonolenov, Nobunaga*, Kalluto, Feitan.

*Nobunaga is a question mark because we dont know if he has a fully realized hatsu or not. and if he does we dont know if hisoka knows about it or not.

so in order:

Chrollo: YES, I think Chrollo is in more than a good enough position to kill hisoka for a second time. with Contagian running wild and so many assorted nen abilities to choose from, he technically has enough bandwidth to limitless nen abilities. will he do so while hunting for hisoka? that depends on if he gets in contact with team phinks or not. but i think he has a good shot of a round two.

Nobunaga: MAYBE, i think nobunaga is the only one in possession of an ability to cut bungee gum, but i only say that because we've never actually seen anything attempt to cut bungee gum. if he can't then he's most likely fucked XD. this also depends on if he has a hatsu or not because as it stands right now, he's very much not ready for this fight.

Feitan: YES, i think its very likely at least. it's not gray enough to be a maybe, but it's leaning towards the very likely. he just has to endure at least one blow from hisoka and its basically over. but even base feitan has a good shot. he has several tricks in his funky lil umbrella that i doubt hisoka knows about and a lot of speed. on top of all that. there are higher forms of pain packer that hisoka is more than capable of unleashing if he decides to play with his food.

I WANT THAT BOAT OBLITERATED BY A NEUTRON STAR. FORGIVE ME BUT I WANT TO FUCKING SEE IT.

Machi: MAYBE, this one i cant be sure about. hisoka is aware of machi's abilities just as much as she is aware of his. It'll come down to what each has prepared for the other and their respective reaction times. personally im rooting for machi in this fight but who knows.

Kalluto: NO, as he is right now, that's a no if hisoka genuinely tried to kill him. he has a get out of jail free card with Illumi being on the team, but with the way hisoka is right now who knows how much value that has.

Phinks: MAYBE, hisoka knows about kaiten, which is a huge disadvantage for phinks. however, phinks can easily get on par with blows equal to uvo if he has enough set up time. which he may or may not get in this hypothetical. hisoka might just straight up rip his arm off which- who knows if that will actually stop him- is Not Good(tm)

Shalnark: YES, honorable mention because i will not let him go. im coping so hard. Autopilot shal has a good shot, it just might end up with both of them dead instead of just one.

Franklin: NO, with his current set up no. unfortunately guns and long range aren't a good counter to hisoka unless theyve got a hell of a lot of power behind it

Shizuku: NO, shizuku herself said it, i dont gotta say shit. but also yes, she'd have to use gyo through the entire fight just to make sure she isn't grabbed and she'd be stuck on the defensive. Unless he bleeds, then she can stay at maximum range and vampire drain him. but he has a hard counter to that so yeah shizuku solo is very much fucked.

Bonolenov: YES, i disagree with bono on his self analysis. Battle Cantabile is a nen ability i haven't talked about much because it's 100% speculation on my end. but as a music nerd i just have to put this here: i think jupiter is part of a suite.* Therefore, i think bono has seven planets at his disposal and i will elaborate more in another post. that and hisoka doesn't know about his abilities, so he has extra upper hand.

*suite being a form of music composure of multiple movements, usually led with a prologue

I REPEAT. I WANT TO SEE THAT BOAT GO D O W N. I WANT IT SUNK I WANT THAT THING EXPLODED SO BADLY.

Illumi: YES, just because hisoka wants to fight him. illumi is a wild card so i cant say for sure. in a 100% all out fight, they have enough knowledge about each other to understand how each other work.

thats my two cents anyway. in the situation they're in right now, its impossible to tell who would win purely because of the number of eyes on any number of them, therefore a fair 1v1 is out of the question.

i enjoy thinking about these funky fellas and please im coping so hard before togashi inevitably rips my soul to pieces.

[whataboutsimple]

I am obsessed with your AU genuinely keep up the good work!! I gotta read a bunch but I'll catch up soon 👍👍

(PS: anything on Ivor or the old order we haven't heard about or you'd like to share? :3)

Two asks in less than an hour.. my brain is melting from all the hyperfixation and dopamine it gets.. THANKSSSS SO MUCH FOR ASKING!

I have so many info about those sillies, that I can write a whole book with a single thought! Mostly because these AU focuses on Gabriel and Jason, as well as on people around them.

Let's get it all into small pieces for more comfortable reading:

When they were younger, the first two to become friends were surprisingly Magnus and Soren! Basically Magnus was in this bully gang and acted as a bad "guy", but he was a harmless prankster. The Gang focused on bullying someone like Soren bc he obviously was an easy target. It didn't took Magnus long to scare them away from pumpkin head. Since then he became Soren's problem.

The third member of their group were Ellegaard. Yet another nerd. She got into school at age of 11, while home studying till that moment. Soren and Ellegaard got along too fast, always sitting in library, and since Magnus was always waving around Soren, he got to know her as well.

Ivor came year later. He and his family moved into those little town called Upperhills due to his father business. Since he is a smart cookie, soon enough he got Soren's and Ellegaard's attention since they were always Top1 and now what? This random boy thinks he can outsmart them? Funny! This lil competition Ivor was unaware off lead to all of them bonding over books and dreams of adventures.

Last one: Gabriel. He just.. appeared one day? In Upperhills. Somehow people loved him. Like a lot. He was always so helpful for adults, very friendly with someone his age, and showed a lot of "brother like" love for kids. He didn't go to school though. Home studying. So the group didn't get a big chance to know him better. At least for now.

Gabriel WAS a part of Tempset family. Seven children including Gabriel and all are adopted. The family wasn't bad, but at the same time there's not enough you could tell about them.. Gabriel was second oldest and his older brother Scott was a part of another bully group. An older bully group. So they casually wrapped Gabriel in their hands.

Not pleasant news for our gang! But Gabriel somehow managed not only not bully them, but.. make them stop? Like what? Okay, that's interesting. Magnus is too curious. He can't keep his nose to himself. And even if Soren tells him not to test his luck- oh, okay, nevermind, he already approached Gabriel.

Wait, what do you mean we all are now friends with this Mr. Angel? No way, Right?

Yep, that's how they all got together! Even though Gabriel usually was spending time working or studying, he still kept contact with our gang.

Sometimes Magnus climbed into his second floor window and stayed the night because he couldn't handle his father's behavior. Sometimes it was Ivor because he was lonely.

Soren and Ellegaard often ran away from home in night to their tree house in the forest to watch the stars in silence. They had a lot in common when it came to their parents. The best was always expected of them, so they understood each other like no one else did.

The little competition between Ivor, Soren and Ellegaard got even worse when they found out about Gabriel's marks. Straight A's? How's that even possible?! Of course, he studies from home, it's easier! What do you mean he studies by himself and passes exams each month?

Magnus got lost at the moment after Ellegaard appeared, but you know what? He loves his nerds. And he loves Gabriel, because he's the only one who doesn't eat books. Like c'mon can y'all chill for a sec?

Soren has a little sister named Aster, meanwhile Ivor has little sister named Grace and he had little brother. Magnus has little sister named Susan!

When it comes to Gabriel.. big brother Scott, younger sister Sam, younger brother Chris, and little siblings Ash and Ashley!

I think that's enough for now! Though if you want more, I'm always here to tell you every little detail! I tried to not spoiler much though.

Thanks for asking again! It really melts my brain and heart!<3

[woterezwhet]

not my image

Chapter 1

CW: SFW, Language (who are we kidding), Vought, bad spelling

Silence was all there was in the VOUGHT tower as The Boys and Soldier Boy faced each other after finding out what they were looking for all along to kill Homelander didn’t actually work. Queen Maeve, unfortunately, taking the brunt of Soldier Boy’s main attack, leaving her unconscious and powerless.

“Is she okay?” a nervous Hughie asks from his position while Starlight–Annie–checks Maeve’s pulse. Her shoulders slump in relief and a sigh passes her lips

“She’s alive, I don’t know about her powers, though,” Annie informs the rooms of humans and Supes. “Good. We’ll need to stage this as her death, though, yeah?” Butcher adds, coming down from his own Temp-V high after his fight with Homelander. The surrounding group of The Boys nod in agreement– Queen Maeve had served her time on The Seven and now deserved a well-earned break from VOUGHT forever.

“Well there goes our chance at surprise, folks.” Butcher sighed out as he looked around the room at the group. With his hands on his hips, he looked at Soldier Boy with a look of expectancy. “The fuck you lookin’ at me for, pal?” Soldier Boy asked with exasperation, “‘Think I got some sort of ace up my goddamn sleeve for you? I gave you what I had and you threw that away for some little pussy with daddy issues called Homelander.” Soldier Boy spat toward Butcher, pacing the destroyed room.

“You fuckers are the ones who woke me up and took me from Russia to kill this motherfucker, which obviously did not work. So, now, what do you got?” Ben ends, panting as his chest slowly began to heat up, literally and figuratively. “You didn’t get everyone from Payback, did you?” Hughie asks tentatively, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. “When you gave us the list of your team, you left a name out. Why?” Ben freezes, turned away from The Boys.

“How in the hell do you fuckin’ know that, spaghetti arms?” Ben asks, his voice shaking in slight anger. Hughie attempts to answer with a confident voice, but instead comes out nervous and shaky. “W-well when you look at the picture of Payback, there are nine members standing right, but there are seven dead, not eight, so who is she?” He straightens his posture as he asks Soldier Boy. “Who is the third woman in the picture that we haven’t fucking smashed in the head or blown to pieces with your atomic bomb of a body.” Hughie is shaky and breathing hard as he looks at Soldier Boy. “Who do we need to find next for help?!” He shouts in frustration and desperation, walking away to breathe, Starlight not far behind him. After a few minutes of breathing to calm himself down, Soldier Boy finally answers Hughie’s question.

“Russia.” He answers in a pained voice. “She’s in Russia.” He hangs his head, painful memories surfing through his mind as he answers the team. “She’s being held by the Russians just like I was until you fucknuts busted me out.” Soldier Boy grits out, angry that he was the only one standing without her.

“Alright, guv. Who is the lass to you? And–” Mothers Milks cuts Butcher off after sirens are head blaring outside “Alright we gotta get outta here before all of NYPD and VOUGHT security finds us!” M.M. Exclaims to the group. “We can get more on the girl when we find Grace, deal?” Not waiting for a group reply, he turns and makes his way out, the group following behind.

[pepperonidk]

vi. in a perfect world || all i could do

"It's not a problem, just a challenge to resist temptation." "I finally got something right." 

Pairing: Lee Jihoon x f!Reader Summary: In a perfect world, it would be him and you and nothing else would matter, but it's fine. it's fine, really. Warnings: alcohol mentions, jackson wang party mention, jihyo is listed as a hybe artist oh well, soonyoung furry mention, seungcheol is a terrible manager Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: so sorry that things go downhill from here. I love my girl jihyo i'm so sorry she's catching strays in this series. I've now mentioned 9/13 members.

join the taglist! previous chapter || back to library || next chapter

“How’s your mom’s house?” Jihoon asked casually. 

“It’s fine,” you replied simply. “Same as it was last week.”

“Cool, cool,” he nodded.

“How’s Cal-”

“I have to-”

You and Jihoon spoke at the same time and he watched as you reached to fiddle with the watch on your wrist. “Sorry,” he began. “What were you saying?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off. “You have to go?” 

Jihoon pursed his lips together in a small smile and shook his head. “I still have a few minutes until call time.” He could see relief flooding your features.

“Are you sure?” you questioned as Jihoon nodded back to you.  

“Yeah,” he nodded back. “What were you up to today?” It had been well over two months since Jihoon saw you in person and a few weeks since the last time he got to spend more than just a few minutes on a call with you. It was difficult to start a world tour right after getting married, but you encouraged Jihoon to jump on the opportunity. He couldn’t lie and pretend that he wasn’t hoping you’d push him to go.

“Well,” you began with a proud smile. “I met up with some friends and we just had  some boring small town shenanigans.”

Jihoon let out a chuckle. “And that entails?”

“Me, Minghao, and Hansol ran into my high school ex at the store,” you explained as Jihoon playfully rolled his eyes.

“That guy Joshua?” his nose scrunched in disgust

“Yes, him,” you continued. “Anyway, believe it or not, he was in the music section holding a copy of your album when Hansol walked up to him to say hi.” Jihoon laughed as he watched how animated your features were. 

“He was really surprised to see me,” you noted. “He looked really embarrassed when he saw that I saw your album in his hand, then he was all ‘oh, your boyfriend right?’”

“And what did you say?” Jihoon asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“I corrected him, obviously. I looked at him and held up the big ass rock on my finger,” as if to demonstrate, you held your hand up to the camera, the silver band glinting in the light of your laptop. “I looked him dead in the eyes and said, ‘husband, actually.’” 

“That’s my girl,” Jihoon praised you. “Did that scare him away?”

“Yes sir,” you mimed a salute. “He just put the album back and walked away. So of course, I bought it and four more copies. Gotta make sure my husband gets his coin.” Jihoon felt himself swell with pride. Something about the way you were so proud to show him off made him feel good. Something that went beyond confidence.

He heard his manager call for him through the door. “Jihoon, they need you for soundcheck.”

“I’ll be right there,” he called before turning his attention back to you.

“Soundcheck?” he watched as your features deflated before you plastered a smile on your face anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied begrudgingly. “Sorry we didn’t get to talk for long.”

“That’s okay,” you smiled weakly. “Seven minutes and 38 seconds beats our call from last week.” 

“Thanks for understanding,” Jihoon replied. “I’ll talk to you when you wake up, good night okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Have a good show. I love you.”

Jihoon blew a kiss at the camera. “Love you too.”

He hung up the call and slipped his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants as he left his dressing room to meet his manager in the hall. 

“Jihoon,” he scolded. “We’ve been trying to get hold of you for 20 minutes. The sound engineers are–”

Jihoon cut him off with a scoff. “They can wait 20 minutes,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s not like there’s anything else for them to do.” He picked up his pace to walk ahead of his clearly annoyed manager. “You perform in 19 cities and suddenly I’m just the help,” he mumbled loud enough for Jihoon to hear and turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What was that, Seungcheol?” Jihoon asked with feigned politeness. Seungcheol let out a sigh, shaking his head and jogged back to meet Jihoon where he was. “That’s what I thought.”

“On the phone with your girl?” Seungcheol asked and Jihoon nodded. “Why don’t you just fly her out for one of the shows?”

“She’s busy working,” Jihoon explained. “Something about her lab being on the brink of publishing.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess,” Seungcheol relented. “Don’t you miss her though? I know you guys decided to nix the honeymoon so you could go on tour.” They had reached the sound booth backstage and Seungcheol set his clipboard down to help Jihoon get his mic wired on.

“I mean, I do miss her,” Jihoon agreed. “But this is literally my dream, and it’s not like I forced her to agree to this.” He recalls the day he told you about the idea of a tour. The board had pitched it to him and Seungcheol just a few weeks before the wedding.

It had all happened so fast, really. One day he was getting engaged and getting signed to be a recording artist for Hybe, in a month he had produced a full length album, and in 3 months he was being offered a tour and picking up his rented tux for his wedding.

He had come through the front door with a burst, causing you to jump from where you sat on the couch watching cartoons. He kicked off his shoes and haphazardly hung his plastic-wrapped suit over the back of the sofa causing you to frown.

“Baby,” he exclaimed. “I’m going on tour!” He watched as you mirrored his grin and reached out to him to hold his hand.

“That’s awesome,” you replied. “When?” 

“In a month,” he replied as he sat down beside you on the couch.

“A month?” you repeated. “But we’re getting married in a month.” Jihoon didn’t miss the way your voice faltered just a little bit behind your smile.

“Don’t worry,” he began. “I’m not scheduled to leave until a week after the wedding, so it’s fine.”

“Yeah, but our honeymoon,” you reminded him. “We were supposed to go to Italy for a week.”

Jihoon rubbed his hand behind his neck. He hadn’t forgotten this detail of course, but he came prepared with a compromise. “Well that’s just it,” he began. “What if you just came with me for a month?”

Your hand slipped out of his before he once again clasped it between his. “Ji… I have work,” you countered back. “I can’t just up and leave for a whole month. Things are finally starting to make progress at the lab and–”

“You can just quit,” Jihoon smiled. “It’s not like you planned to stay there forever, anyway.” He was surprised at the hurt that furrowed its way into your brows.

“I-I like my job, Jihoon,” you stuttered out. “I’m not going to quit to become a roadie.” Jihoon watched as you stood up from the couch and began to pace around the room with your arms crossed. “So suddenly your job is more important than mine?” Jihoon asked defensively.

“What?” You paused to look at him sharply. “That’s not remotely close to anything I just said, and you know it.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, I just got a bit defensive. I thought you’d want to come with me.”

“And I do,” you walked back towards him. “But it’s not that simple.” You let out a sigh and sat back down next to him, pulling your knees to your chest.

“I’ll come see your shows when I can get some time off,” you offered. “And we can call whenever we get the chance. But you have to promise me something.” 

“Anything, baby,” Jihoon looked at you with excitement and relief as you named your terms. “When you’re on that stage, you’re everybody’s Woozi, but when you’re here… just be my Jihoon. Please.” In the moment, Jihoon would have agreed to anything you said, and when out of your mouth came something more cryptic than he had expected, he thought he had gotten off easy. 

But now, with Seungcheol’s judging eyes on him, he felt as though he had missed something important. You were okay with it, right? Why wouldn’t you be? After all he’d done for you since you graduated college, it was only fair that he got to do this, right?

“Okay, your mic is set,” the tech spoke and broke Jihoon out of his thoughts. Jihoon’s anxieties were left behind as he walked on the stage and ran through his set.

This concert was just like all the other ones he’d done in the last 19 cities. The adrenaline surged through his veins as he performed on stage and the thrill of the deafening screams around him reminded him that he was exactly where he needed to be. He beamed at the sea of lights all around, bobbing as the crowd chanted his name. “Woozi, Woozi, Woozi.” This is what he lived for.

When he finally walked off stage, his hair was still dripping with sweat and he was exhausted. Seungcheol handed him a towel to dry his face. “Hit the showers man,” Seungcheol teased. “You could fill a bucket with all that sweat.” Nevertheless, he pat him on his back before walking over to a stagehand to help out.

Jihoon headed back to his dressing room and finally checked his phone, a small smile coming onto his face as he saw you had left him a few messages.

Angel 5:05 p.m. – Hey i know you’re gonna rock everyone’s socks off tonight! Can’t wait to catch the fan cams on tik tok lol

Angel 7:10 p.m. – got called into the lab so i only got to sleep like 2 hours. But apparently some of the cultures have developed something weird so i have to figure out if it’s something legit or if Jun accidentally sneezed on a petri dish again. Go me!

Angel 9:02 p.m. – he sneezed.

Angel 9:03 p.m. – finally home. Can’t wait for you to be back here so I can finally get a good night’s sleep. 

He decided to reply later in case you were finally sleeping. He knew that between your video calls that spanned across multiple time zones and the many emergency calls you’ve had to the lab, you hadn’t been sleeping well. It made him feel a little bit guilty that he was putting you through all this, but he felt happy knowing that you were still trying your best to make things work.

In a perfect world, Jihoon thinks, it would just be him and you and no time zones, no oceans and mountains to separate you. It’s not a perfect world, but it’s fine enough for him. 

Later that night, Jihoon found himself at an afterparty for Seungcheol's friend Jackson Wang in a lounge near the venue. It wasn’t his usual scene, but lately, Seungcheol had been encouraging him to participate in more social activities. Something about it being good for his celebrity image. He preferred to be cooped up in his hotel room with a bowl of instant ramen watching his latest anime, but tonight he found himself hanging alone at the bar with a glass of whiskey instead.

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol slurred. Most people would expect managers to be uptight and rigid, but Seungcheol preferred to take a more “best friend” approach when it came to managing the talent. Most times, Jihoon was grateful to have a friend at his side so often, but not so much when it meant he’d have to help a blacked out Seungcheol find his way back to his hotel room later.

“Drink some water dude,” Jihoon scolded as he flagged down the bartender. Seungcheol obediently drank half of the bottle before sighing in satisfaction.

“You’re supposed to be having fun,” Seungcheol said. “What kind of celebrity stands at the bar brooding menacingly instead of dancing to his own song?”

Jihoon let out a sigh. “I guess you have a point,” he admitted. Now Seungcheol had asked for two shots of vodka before Jihoon could stop him. “Slow down a bit, Cheol.”

“These are for you,” Seungcheol passed him the shot glasses. Jihoon laughed and shook his head but complied and took the shots anyway. He felt the warmth of the alcohol down his throat and his cheeks got hot. He downed the rest of his glass of whiskey as well before letting Seungcheol lead him over to a table right at the edge of the dance floor. He immediately felt a haze settle in his mind, an effect of the alcohol.

At the table were a few faces he recognized from around the company. Jihyo, whose album he’d been working to help produce in his free time, and Hoshi and Seungkwan, two other artists from the company. He’d spent time with Jihyo and Seungkwan a handful of times, but had only ever said hi to Soonyoung in passing. “Everyone, you know Woozi,” Seungcheol introduced.

“Um, you guys can just call me Jihoon,” he added with a small wave. “Nice to see you all again, but uh, why are you guys all here in Italy too?”

“Me and Seungkwan are promoting a collab here,” Jihyo explained.

“And I’m here for fashion week,” Hoshi replied before clapping Jihoon on the back. “Call me Soonyoung, Let’s be best friends.” Jihoon let out a chuckle as he helped to steady him. He was very clearly far gone.

Seungkwan pulled Soonyoung off of Jihoon with a scoff. “Don’t hang out with him,” Seungkwan put Soonyoung’s arm around his neck to lead him away from the group. “He’s a terrible influence and a bit of a furry.” 

Soonyoung’s face contorted into a pout as he pushed Seungkwan away. “I’m a fun-fluence,” he corrected. “And I am fun-fluencing you to dance with us.” He immediately grabbed Jihoon and Seungcheol by the arm to lead them both to the center of the dance floor. Jihyo and Seungkwan followed close behind. Given how drunk Soonyoung seemed to be, his dance moves gave no hint that he was inebriated.

Jihoon felt himself bobbing up and down to the music, lost in his thoughts, until Jihyo’s voice interrupted them. He smiled politely at her as she handed him a drink, similar to the one she was brandishing. “Drink?” She asked with a smile as he took it from her.

“Thanks,” he called over the loud music as he took a sip of the drink. The two of them stood next to each other, watching Soonyoung tear up the dance floor for a beat before either of them spoke again. 

“He’s amazing isn’t he?” Jihyo spoke loudly.

“Yeah,” Jihoon agreed. “I see why they call him the dancing tiger now.”

Jihyo laughed loudly as Jihoon turned to look at her in confusion. She shoved him playfully as he continued to look at her in confusion. “You’re serious?” She asked incredulously as he nodded back. “Soonyoung is the only one who calls Soonyoung the dancing tiger. So sad he got the new guy in on it.”

Jihoon shook his head in embarrassment before Jihyo put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright though,” she beamed. “You’ve got me to protect you from the Hybe shenanigans now.”  

“Glad to have you,” he replied.

When Jihoon woke up the next morning to the sound of his phone ringing, he felt his head throb. A groan came from the floor and Jihoon rolled over to spot Seungcheol passed out on the floor with a pillow over his head. How either of them made it back to the room, Jihoon only had a fuzzy recollection of.

He reached blindly for his phone on the night stand, squinting at the brightness to read your name on the screen. He ran his hand over his face and cleared his throat in an attempt to make himself sound more normal and not like he was stuck in between drunk and hungover at 2 pm on a Thursday.

“Hello?” you spoke as Jihoon answered the call. You were in the bathroom of your apartment getting ready for bed and Jihoon smiled at the sight of you with the fuzzy pink headband he got you brushing your teeth.

“Hey baby,” Jihoon cooed.

You paused from brushing your teeth to look at him through the phone with a frown. “Had fun last night?” 

Jihoon nodded in reply. “Yeah,” he answered. “Some of the other Hybe people were there too, so it was a lot of fun. I think our stops line up for the next few, so we’ll probably hang out again.”

You hummed in response. Jihoon expected you to be excited that he had made friends as you had always chastised him for being somewhat of an introvert. Instead, you simply asked, “Did you get to the hotel safe?”

Jihoon nodded again. “Yeah,” he assured you. “Don’t know what time I got back, but I remember the sun was coming up. Seungcheol’s passed out on the floor.” Seungcheol let out a loud groan at the mention of his name.

You let out a sigh after spitting into the sink. “I’ll let you get your rest then,” you smiled tightly. “Just wanted to say good morning. Check your text messages when you can. Gotta go.”

Before Jihoon could reply, you had hung up. He wondered why you seemed so upset with him. However, he did as you asked and checked his messages to see you had left… a lot. He focused on the most recent messages. You were indeed mad at him.

Angel 11:00 p.m. - Good morning babe! Running on 2 hours of sleep, but today’s gonna be a good day, I know it. Call me soon!

Angel 11:13 p.m. -  Got impatient and tried to call you instead, but maybe you’re asleep?

Angel 11:13 p.m. - nvm when have you ever slept before midnight? Call me! I have news!

Angel 12:58 a.m. - I guess I’ll just say it here… after this study, they’re promoting me to a head researcher for another lab. I’ll no longer be an et. al.!!!

Angel 1:03 a.m. - come home soon, I can’t wait to celebrate with you!

Angel 2:43 a.m. -  wish you would reply :( I wanna see that cute smile you make when I tell you something good.

Angel 4:02 a.m. - doesn’t it suck when you only get a hold of your husband’s whereabouts from an update account on twitter? Don’t drink too much, dumbass.

Jihoon groaned and dropped his phone onto the bed. He was in trouble.

Taglist:@yksthings @alonelystarfish @coveyland @xuimhao @sana-is-ms-rmty @gummymintae @maverey

[jmdbjk]

Not the usual ...

Hate'll paralyze your mind Gotta see the other side It costs you nothing to be kind Not so different you and I Looking for love in a different light Until we find that equal sign ~~ j-hope

I am not sure how to start or if I can even touch on everything that's going on in my mind and what follows will probably be disjointed, messy and all over the place.

When the concept of "fandom implosion" was set in front of me, I was skeptical (my middle name), "no, that most likely won't happen."

Me: "Army are pretty cohesive, we are mostly smart, critical thinking humans who can spot the bullshit a mile away and we are resilient enough to carry on."

Remarks such as: "you don't need to announce your departure from the fandom, just go!" accompanied by "the fandom needs a cleansing" and "slough off the ones who are not here to support BTS" and each time, we move on believing we are stronger, better and will persevere.

Yet, every week that goes by since that concept entered my BTS mind, it seems that there is something else that furthers the process of this *now obvious* fandom implosion that is occurring before our eyes.

This stuff going on today in Korea, the wreaths in front of the Hybe building, the trucks, the relentless negativity supposedly FROM K-ARMY is downright disappointing and disheartening. They said for I-Army to let them handle it.

But this is not it y'all.

You have played right into MHJ's hands in sowing negativity in the general public and korean news media. Most concerning to me now: my trust in K-Army has faltered. I know K-Army is not a monolith, just as no faction of the fandom holds more weight than any other, but damn, these people have the attention of their general news media and now they have to deal with the consequences.

Hybe put out a statement about the status of legal proceedings and the statement included an apology to Army. THEY APOLOGIZED TO US, THE FANDOM!

But obviously, that wasn't enough.

I am Army and know all the details of what has happened and is happening and I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE LOGIC OF RELENTLESSLY BEATING UP HYBE, I am confused as to what's happening. What makes anyone think the general public and news media will dive deep enough to understand all the details and nuances?????

Can this also be the work of the organized, paid antis? Yes, it could, but some of my trusted K-Army accounts on X are also supporting this mess. WHAT THE FUCK ARE Y'ALL THINKING???

Maybe I'm too American to understand the logic behind what's happening over there. Or maybe its just my nature to always think beyond the action happening to what the aftermath might look like.

But tell me, exactly WHO and exactly WHAT company are we to have faith in for BTS if not Hybe and BigHit? Tell me who? Just cut the group loose and then what? Let them get eaten alive by the media, the general public, every other fandom and hater? Force them to focus on rebuilding their own careers? Force them to have to rebuild another company? How does that support them? How does that protect them? Do you think another company will instantly materialize to pick up the pieces? If you do, you are truly living on another planet.

They should be focusing on their art, not on any of this.

It is usually easy for me to reassure myself that "this is only happening on X/social media," and mostly removed from the real world. But not this time.

The most heartbreaking thing about it all is NONE OF THE MEMBERS can refute, debunk, rebut or speak on this on their own behalf. They are being raked over and over again and there is nothing they can do except carry on. RM doing his best at promoting. Jimin and Jungkook just serving their country the best they can. Jin coming back not into loving arms of his fandom but the ashes of what we once were. Yoongi... my god... I can imagine the cyphers pouring out of him this very second... but he must be silent now.

I am here to support BTS, all seven members. As soon as Namjoon's single was available again on the BTS store website, I bought it. I will buy the song on Apple Music and Amazon. I plan to march over to Target on the day of the album's release to buy it. I can't wait for shipping, I must have it immediately. I have done this with every member's release.

I want to wake up and this be a bad dream. I am certain all the members do too.

My apologies for this very negative post but damn, I had to get it out of my head. Individually, we each have a limit. I am going to recharge my BTS batteries so I can fight another day in what's left of this crazy fandom.

No truer words spoken: Being a fan of BTS, being ARMY, is not for the faint of heart.