#oddly enough it's not a lack of trust in them but a trust in what you know and your intuition

[selfundiagnosed]

&&the mental gymnastics they do to sleep each night without a guilty conscience so they can convince themselves their disgusting behavior is justified toward you🤥

[isekyaaa]

One day I really want to make a side character that is very sociable, yet also a very good person. Always willing to help. Probably a lot of people is jealous of them. And then they get betrayed by someone "close" someday and instead of them being hurt, them being like, "I was wondering if/when that would happen lol"

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion teaching Tav embroidery/sewing. Preferably with him dragging them onto his lap for a close-up demonstration.

Why do I make everything so long? Do I have a problem? There is always so much introspective nonsense idk man. Anyway adorable idea actualized below!

Also mentions of sex but this is totally sfw. I went with the timeline of when your sleeping together but he hasn't quite admitted his feelings to himself, as a side!

~

Astarion had no idea how he became your camp's designated seamstress. How was it possible that a team of eight adults were all incapable of knowing the basics of such a fundamental skill?

Then again, Karlach seemed to be perfectly fine with wearing her clothes to tatters. Wyll was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Lae'zel, for some gods forsaken reason, was only capable of fixing up heavy armor. Gale seemed to prefer eating magical clothing items versus being able to salvage them and the rest were mediocre at best.

The look of confusion on Shadowheart's, who was the second most skilled by far, face when Astarion tried to explain a ladder stitch was enough for him to give up entirely. It was quicker to fix the tears then to explain simple concepts to simpletons.

Brats. All of you. With one who was significantly more brazen than the rest when it came to using Astarion as their personal tailor.

Tav, the lovely thorn in his side. Who could handle wielding a glaive with startingly accuracy, but somehow managed to consistently stab themselves every time they picked up a sewing needle. It was impressive, how useless someone who was otherwise extremely competent could be.

Impressive as it was frustrating. Because somehow you managed to destroy your clothes more often than anyone else. Always bashfully handing him over torn trousers and ripped shirts every other night. Anyone else he would have told to fuck off by now. Even the rest of the camp knew better than to test their luck with anything more than once a fortnight. But you lacked the very basic level of self-control.

It was his own fault for giving you special treatment in the first place. But sleeping together did warrant a few extra benefits. He got your protection and you got to experience the pleasure of being with him. Simple. Or it would have been if you didn't insist on making things complicated.

Because Astarion was starting to feel things. Things that he hadn't anticipated. Because your company was... oddly pleasant. You were an interesting little thing, he had to give you that. Well-read and talkative, but not boringly so. No, Astarion sometimes found himself losing track of time when he was with you. A simple question could easily turn into a two-hour conversation about the silliest things. It was... nice. New. And oh so different from what he was used to.

Cazador didn't even allow him or his brethren to speak in his home, let alone speak to each other unless it was strictly necessary. But here he was free to do whatever he pleased. And he was finding that included being near you, despite how differently you both saw the world.

He couldn't quite blame you for your delusional optimistic views. As a Tymora worshipper you were basically doomed from the start to believe inane concepts like good fortune, luck, and gods, the good that could be found in "anyone".

You were as sweet as you were aggravating and Astarion truly, honestly, had no idea how your insane trusting nature hadn't managed to get you killed yet. But then again he... kind of liked that about you. He liked that you trusted him. It made his life more convienet and... it was nice to be seen as a person worth confiding in. Instead of the blood-sucking monster he really was.

He... liked that. He liked you. A fact that he didn't enjoy thinking about. He didn't really know what to do with it, and the implications of where his feelings could lead were starting to become unsettling. So he pushed it out of his mind. It was an easy thing to do when doom was always looming in the background. He had plenty of things to think about that didn't include his fondness for you.

Like the inner-rage you caused when you managed to somehow rip the same shirt twice in one day.

"That's it," Astarion announced when you bashfully asked for his help yet again, "Come here. I'm teaching you how to sew."

"But you always get mad when you try," You whined. But despite the hesitancy you still obediently sat next to him as he got out the sewing kit, "Do you promise not to snap this time?"

"That depends," Astarion said with a roll of the eyes, "Do you intend on not maiming yourself with a sewing needle?"

Astarion smirked at the way that made a blush crawl up your neck, "That was one time!"

"Actually darling it was closer to seven," Astarion corrected as he snatched the shirt from your hands, "Now pay attention. Look at where the tear starts. Notice how it's on the seam?"

You nodded along as Astarion explained the basics to you. He could tell that you were trying your damndest to pay attention, but when it was your turn to hold the needle your hands couldn't stop shaking. Astarion frowned as he tried to watch you work, his view obfuscated by the angle and the flow of your hair.

Well that wouldn't do.

Before he could think better of it he was hauling you into his lap, ignoring your surprised squeak as he situated you just right.

That was better. At least now he could see what you were doing. It was a sloppy stich, sloppy enough for him to undo it before putting the needle back in your hand.

"Now do it again," Astarion ordered, "Let me see what your doing wrong."

Astarion watched as you tried again, frowning when he realized your shaking was even worse than before. In fact, you seemed more nervous than ever, your face red as you kept your eyes down.

It made Astarion torn between watching your hands and looking at your face. You really were adorable, getting all worked up from simply being in his lap, all while trying to stay dutifully undistracted. He could almost hear your heart racing, obvious through the tension coursing through you.

Silly little thing, acting all shy like he hadn't already literally been inside of you. But at least you were doing better, your stitching straighter than Astarion had ever seen it. Maybe he'd have to make the lap-sitting mandatory from now on, for the good of your learning.

"See," Astarion said softly, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned in closer, "You're perfectly capable of learning this."

"So it looks good?" You asked, taking a chance to glance at him. Astarion hadn't realized just how close the two of you really were. He had never... seen you like this before. So closely. Even when you slept together, he had been a bit distracted by other parts of your body. He never noticed just how many light freckles were hiding across the bridge of your nose, how your eyes looked almost golden in candlelight. You smelled nice too, sweet. Like you had been rolling around in a field of lilies. Considering your personality, Astarion had to wonder if that's exactly what you did.

It would take almost nothing to press your lips together. Barely a turn on the head.

"Astarion, are you listening?"

The sound of his voice snapped him out of his revelry. He straightened, clearing his throat as he looked over your work again, embarrassed in a way that he couldn't quite describe.

Maybe you weren't the only one being affected after all.

"It looks better," Astarion said honestly, "But still needs work. You'll almost certainly be needing more lessons."

Preferably like this. Astarion wasn't quite ready to let you go yet, not when you felt so pleasantly warm in his lap. But luckily enough for him, you didn't seem quite so keen to leave.

Astarion tightened his hold on you laughing at the way it made you gasp, "But that's enough for today. I think you've earned a reward. Don't you?"

"I-yes?" You said back, your eyes flitting from Astarion's mouth and back, "Please?"

You really were too precious. How could he possibly say no to that?

Astarion grinned as he tilted your chin up, finally pressing your lips together. It was an odd feeling, kissing someone when he couldn't stop smiling, but he supposed you just had that effect on him.

Maybe being the camp seamstress wasn't so bad after all.

[a-mint-bear]

Her Favorite Employee

Female Yandere x Female Reader

You're the personal assistant of your company's CEO. She's controlling, married to her job, and runs you ragged. But you're good at your job, and she loves to let you know how much she appreciates you.

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

"What's on my schedule for this afternoon?"

A quick recap of what was on the docket for that day as you dropped off her coffee order. Soon she’d be in back to back meetings while you handled her calls and made the rounds to the various teams she oversaw. Same as most mornings.

“Wonderful. Make sure to have the Hillmore reports on my desk by three, and send a nice gift basket to Reynolds in Sales. His wife just had twins.”

You told her the reports would be done before her lunch with R&D, and you’d already sent a basket with her name on it two days ago which included a gift certificate to a local spa for the new mother.

“I knew you’d be on it.” She smiled into her coffee. “Much obliged, love.”

You nodded behind your tablet, trying not to be obvious about your lack of eye contact. It was torture when she called you that.

It was a lot, working under her. But at the same time, it was oddly… fulfilling. She gave you so many responsibilities and trusted, more expected, you to come through. Every time.

Not even six months ago you'd been just another employee. It was a decent job; Good pay and benefits, and the work was easy enough, the hours sucked sometimes but it wasn't like you had a rich social life it was cutting into.

You didn’t make any friends in the office, you weren’t sure any of your coworkers even knew your name. To them, you were just “that one girl who refills the paper in the copier”. Because someone has to, and you work with a bunch of animals who think that the paper just magically replenishes itself. Now you were “The Boss’ secretary”, that was at least more respectable? Maybe?

But before you were her assistant, you were just her “favorite employee”. And that was more trouble than it was worth.

She didn’t care much for being called by her surname like most of the superiors in the company, but no one was brave enough to call her by her given name. So most in the company just called her Boss or Miss. And she liked it that way. You were pretty sure she just liked how intimidating it made her seem.

She was always around. At first, you thought it might've been because she was your boss. She was probably just trying to see if you were any good at your job, maybe looking for a reason to fire you if she noticed anything off. But ever since you were hired, it just kept happening. Your first days in the office quickly turned into weeks and she was still circling you for seemingly no reason.

You could excuse it to yourself, maybe she was the micromanaging type. But her attention always seemed to be on you, almost exclusively, more than anyone else in the office. And it was… intimidating. For a couple of reasons.

She seemed to love… picking on you, if you could call it that. Any extra projects she needed done? You were her first choice. Fixing the new guy's botched paperwork before a big deadline? You were on it, of course. Overtime? Yup, you. It would be more annoying if you weren't getting paid overtime. But you always got it all done, ahead of schedule, without any complaints.

And if she wasn't being oddly petty, she was being… oddly flirty.

Sitting on the edge of her desk when she talked quarterly reports over with you. Leaning a little too close when she took something off your desk. Her fingers brushed yours when you handed her things. A bump to your arm with hers here, a touch to your shoulder there… Every time you wondered if you were just imagining things, it happened again. She never did anything overtly inappropriate or pushed past any sign you were uncomfortable, but the truth was… you weren’t. It was a bit much to have this beautiful woman pay so much attention to you, but you weren’t going to lie, it wasn’t… the worst thing in the world.

It contrasted hard with her usual put-together image, prim and proper and out of reach from the mere mortals in the office. But as far as you’d noticed, she didn’t act this way in front of anyone else in the office. And you didn’t know what to do with that information.

You weren’t sure if any of it was on purpose, or if she was just flirtatious by nature. It was always hard to tell with women, as a woman. Was she into you? Was she even attracted to women?? Or did she get her jollies by flustering the office loner?

She stayed just as late as you most nights, if not longer. And checked up on you. And chatted with you when she had a minute. You just didn't get why. You weren't anyone special. And she was so…

She was gorgeous, always so well put-together and stunning. You'd never met a woman who was so beautiful it made you nervous, like a dumb teenager. But it couldn't outweigh how much she got on your nerves with how she was always in your business, so the conflicting emotions just made for long, exhausting workdays.

If she knew you were annoyed with her, she never let it show. But it wasn't long before you realized just why she'd been watching you so closely.

One day, all the creeping around and odd attention she was paying you started to make sense. The Boss Lady called you into a meeting with herself and the head of H.R. and just…

Offered you a promotion. Just like that.

"I've been really impressed by your work ethic.” She was being so poised and professional, every word out of her mouth sounded so assured, even though you were very much a deer in the headlights at the moment. “I need someone with a work/life balance that matches my own and can work with my schedule to be my personal Executive Assistant. Your hours would increase, but there will be a significant pay raise and company benefits.”

And boy, what a significant pay raise it was. You'd have to be a complete idiot to turn it down. It meant more responsibilities in the company and you'd be expected to dress up a bit more for appearance's sake, but a few suit jackets and skirts with nice dress shoes would be more in your price range now. It would mean spending A LOT more time with her though, and you weren't sure if your weak heart could take the damn near constant presence of this woman.

But maybe, SOMEHOW, it really was all in your head. Maybe the proximity to her while she was vetting you for the position just had you all mixed up?

Maybe the money was making you too eager to accept, but accept you did.

And it was normal, or as normal as things could be around that place, at least for a little while.

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

You were scheduling some meetings for her and logging them in her calendar when another co-worker knocked on your office door.

“Oh hey, do you have a minute?”

You recognized them… You didn’t remember their full name but everyone called them Jay.

They started a few months after you did, and they seemed nice enough. Right now they looked a little out of sorts, which was unusual. They were usually the cool, flirty, sporty type who was good friends with everyone, not an awkward bone in their body. The two of you weren’t friends or anything, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.

You asked them what was up, and it took them a minute before finally spitting it out.

“Okay, so… totally tell me to screw off if I’m barkin’ up the wrong tree here.” It was kind of funny seeing them so nervous. “Would you wanna… go to dinner tomorrow?”

Without thinking, you pulled up your planner, asking if there’d been an email you’d missed about some team-building thing. But they just laughed.

“No, I meant… Just you and me.”

You froze, wondering if you had heard right. You cut to the chase, asking if they meant like a date?

“We don’t have to call it a date, if you don’t want to!” They held up their hands defensively, like you were someone they were worried about offending with this. You wondered how people saw you around here for them to be so nervous. Or maybe they just… really liked you that much. “But… yeah. I wanted to ask you out.”

You gave it a moment to sink in.

You weren’t automatically thinking of saying no. Did that mean you wanted to say yes? They were tall and attractive, in a “soft beanpole with a cute haircut” kind of way. They looked good in their usual button up with the rolled-up sleeves, and pulled the look off better than half the people around the office. The opposite of your very feminine boss. Looks-wise they were nothing alike, but both had the same confident, assertive air about them. Maybe that was appealing to you, and Jay was just as much your type as the Boss was.

You scolded yourself. Why were you thinking about her? Now?

At the end of the day, you didn’t see any reason to say no. It could be a nice time. This stupid not-a-crush you had on your boss was never going to go anywhere, so why not try and see someone who went out of their way to ask you out? If it didn’t work out, you would handle it like an adult.

Jay looked nervous that you’d been thinking for so long. You told them you had a pretty packed schedule, but if you could get a night off, it would be nice to have dinner with them tomorrow. You half-jokingly told them that if it went well, you’d slap the “date” label on it. Their cheeks went a bit red, but they were grinning ear to ear.

“Cool!” They laughed, a bit too loud before catching themself, playing it cool. “I mean uh… That sounds good. Let me know.”

They quickly left, muttering to themself to “keep it together”, probably thinking you couldn’t hear. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. Maybe they were shyer than you’d originally thought.

But now came the hard part. Getting a night off.

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

“No, that won't do.” She didn’t even look up from her computer.

That’s all she had to say to your request. At first, you felt disappointed but you were ready to just turn around and leave, accepting it. But this was just... bothering you. You piped up, trying to reason with her. Her schedule was free tomorrow night and you were a week ahead on all the reports she’d put you in charge of. You hadn’t had a night off in a few weeks.

And you’d never complained. You’d even kind of liked the challenge, the effort you put into your work gave you purpose. Working as her personal assistant was the most rewarding job you’d ever had. And you even told her so.

So why?

She sighed, she seemed almost… annoyed?

“I heard some chatter in the hall this afternoon.” She just kept typing away. “Someone was asking about restaurant recommendations for a big date. They seemed excited about having finally asked out the CEO’s assistant. And that they were so surprised she’d said yes.”

So she knew? She knew you were asking for a night off for a date? What did that have to do with anything? But you kept quiet for the moment, wondering where she was going with this.

“Maybe it’s my fault.” she sighed, sitting back in her plush office chair. “I was too…generous. I wanted to make you feel comfortable working for me so I let you do what you wanted. I can admit to my mistakes.”

Generous? By working you like a dog day in and day out? By keeping you from doing something as simple as going on a date with someone who was interested in you?

You asked her why. Why was she so against you having a life? Why was she doing this?

You knew it was a bad-no, a super bad idea to be mouthing off to your boss. Possibly career-ending. But you’d done so much for her, every day for months on end and never letting her down no matter how difficult or grueling the task. And she couldn’t even give you this one night off?

You needed a reason.

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” She smiled her usual stunning smile. But you weren’t going to let it get to you this time. No ma’am. But as she got up from her desk, coming around to stand too damn close, you felt your resolve slipping.

“From the day you started working here, I knew I wanted to keep you by my side.”

As an employee, right?

. . .

Right??

“You were… quite the sight.” she sighed, a dreamy smile as she looked at you from beneath her long, dark lashes. “So put off by everyone. Always on your own. Uninterested. Unengaged. Unmotivated. At first I just wanted to frazzle you, make you lighten up a bit. You seemed so isolated, I figured a strong personality like mine would rub you the wrong way. But you had such an… interesting reaction.”

The both of you knew what she meant. The blushing, the nervous energy, all the times you tried so hard to act like you weren’t bothered by her attention. And most likely failed miserably.

“I saw how hard you worked. I could see your untapped potential. You were exactly what I needed. I knew I had to make you mine.”

You told her you didn’t understand. And maybe that was a lie. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from racing. She… wasn’t talking about work anymore, was she?

“I made you my assistant. You’re by my side, day in and day out. And… I thought that would be enough to satisfy this feeling. This... need. But it just wasn’t. And when I heard someone had taken an interest in you, I found myself quite…”

The intensity in her eyes felt so suffocating.

”Infuriated.”

You couldn't help but flinch when she laid her hands flat on your chest, just below your collar bone. Her touch burned itself into you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. It felt like she’d devour you if you did.

“No one…” She grabbed you by your collar and yanked you closer, whispering in your ear. You hated the shiver it sent up your spine. “No one will ever take you away from me. Not another company. Not another department. And certainly not some little upstart from Sales.”

… She wasn’t talking about work anymore.

“If someone else took you from me... there would be no point in any of this. This job. It was so… stuffy and boring before you came along. Every day was just office politics and saying the right things to the right people.” She loosened her grip, straightening the collar on your suit jacket with an airy, light touch. “But you… You changed something. So I brought you to my side. And I’ve been watching, getting to know all about you. You play down your talents so you don’t draw any attention. But you can’t help yourself. What you want more than anything is for someone to say they appreciate you, that they need you.”

She had to know how this sounded, right? She almost sounded like…

“And I do.” She held your face in her hand, her thumb grazing your cheek so gently you could’ve convinced yourself her touch wasn’t real. “I need you, love. Without you, none of this means anything.”

Your breathing was shaky, you never imagined that this would- could ever happen in a million years.

She drew you closer, a soft gasp slipping out when you realized just how close. If anyone else popped in, it would be completely obvious what was going on. But you didn’t push her away. If anything, you wished she would just close the gap and take it out of your hands.

“So what do you say?” She whispered in your ear, the warmth of her breath making you feel weak. “Are you mine?”

As if you could say anything else.

Yes, Miss.

It was so soft a response that you weren’t sure you’d said it out loud until you saw her smile. A finger to your lips, she laughed. Not her usual teasing, mischievous laugh when she was trying to get a reaction out of you. It was sweet, delighted and charming.

She was so close, her breath on your lips, her lashes just barely brushed your cheek.

“And I'm yours, love.”

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

this one has been a long time coming, writing femme yanderes is difficult lol

this y/n ended up being a lady, and it didn't come into play much. but the hypercompetent assistant girl in love with her powerful boss lady is a wlw pairing near and dear to my heart.

Boss Lady's tentative full name is Lenora. she doesn't care for it, she goes by Nora. i originally gave her a last name to be called by in the story to make her seem more imposing, but it came off as awkward, like she has a name, but i didn't want her to be known by an unimportant surname

Jay started off as a lady, but i wrote her as more androgynous and it felt right to make them nb instead. it helped keep the reader's sexuality more ambiguous. i wanted to write them as wlw, but not strictly a lesbian. but she reads very much as a "useless lesbian" trope lol. Boss lady had to flirt with her for literal months on end before y/n caught on

i don't quite know how old Boss Lady is, i imagine her as late 30s, very early 40s, and there could be an age difference here, but it's not a necessary part of the story.

this Boss Lady COULD be the same Boss Lady as the one in Boss Lady has a House Spouse, sometime in the future of their relationship. maybe y/n gets burned out or quits for some reason and then becomes a domestic partner. But Boss Lady who obsesses over her employee was imagined as a separate Boss Lady originally. you can never have too many boss ladies.

and that header. i've said it before that editing the femme yandere headers is so awkward because the office lady ones just turn into their chests in tight button-downs lol

*whispers* would you guys find it weird if she called the reader "good girl"? 'cause i almost included it at the end there but thought it might be a bit much. i have a problem✌️

[seresinhangmanjake]

It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

-----

“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face. 

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices. 

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his. 

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'. 

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it. 

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do. 

So he listened. 

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights. 

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her. 

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding. 

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with? 

But there was still enough remaining to worry him. 

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart. 

“You’re lost.” 

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts. 

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his. 

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you. 

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer. 

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.” 

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him. 

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his. 

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email. 

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did. 

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room. 

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar. 

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head. 

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it. 

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match. 

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved. 

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness. 

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach. 

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form. 

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him. 

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose. 

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you." 

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy. 

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away. 

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting. 

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing. 

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more. 

Jake sighed. 

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby. 

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to. 

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away. 

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child. 

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree. 

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked. 

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world. 

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction. 

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you." 

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate. 

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him. 

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench. 

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him. 

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

----

A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing.

[devoted-horror]

giving the new survivor hatch.

a/n: this is my first time writing for dbd in general, so!! i hope i do this game justice bc i play it every day lol

includes: the huntress, the trickster, the ghostface, the artist, the cannibal.

warnings: not proofread, typical dbd stuff like blood, mentions of murder, things like that, gn reader, love at first sight but only if u tilt ur head and squint really hard, inconsistent length, im going to be so delusional over jiwoon im sorry, i can't speak russian or korean so i just used a bunch of translators sorry if i got smth wrong, inaccurate behavior of dbd crows but relatively accurate behavior of irl crows i think, scream reference in danny's part bc i had to, reader injury in jiwoon and danny's parts, written over the course of a few months so sorry if the pacing is weird.

THE HUNTRESS

Anna has been in the fog long enough that every face of everyone she's ever killed has started to merge together into one. She doesn't know their names, and hardly ever reacts whenever she encounters a new survivor.

Mercy is not something she shows during trials. She is a hunter, and anyone who crosses her path, be it man or animal, is her prey. Nothing in the wild is merciful.

And you were nothing more than another person for her to hunt, prey for her to kill. And trust me, she was going to kill you.

Or, at least, she was.

And then you dropped a pallet on her. Now, normally, Anna would get very angry when this happens. Her prey is fighting back, and though it gives her a thrill, it's annoying. And for a brief moment, she did feel angry the moment the pallet hit her.

But then you were apologizing, a look of genuine guilt on your expression. You even asked if she was bleeding. Your survival instincts were lacking, clearly, but Anna found that to be... oddly endearing??

She felt a surge of protectiveness spark within her, something she had never felt during her time here. It was a familiar feeling, yet one so foreign at the same time.

But how could she not feel such a way when you were staring up at her, clearly scared that she was going to hurt you yet brave enough to stand in front of her and apologize for something that, by all means, you should have done.

Anna just stares you down for a long moment, having an internal struggle with herself on what she should do with you. Ultimately, her need to protect overruled her need to hunt, because after breaking the pallet between the two of you, she made a gesture for you to follow her.

And, not wanting to die, you did.

She took you to a shack, something you've heard other survivors refer to as the killer shack. The only reason you knew this is because you were told to stay away from it unless you wanted to get put in the basement.

She just pointed to one of the corners of the building, and looked over at you, "Оставайся здесь." And you didn't immediately understand her, though you were quick to pick up on what she was telling you. It seemed as if she wanted you to stay here.

Your safest bet on surviving was doing what she said, so you just nod and awkwardly place yourself in the corner she had been pointing at. She doesn't spare you another glance as she leaves you alone.

You're not sure how long you stayed there. You could hear the other survivors screams though, and you felt sick to your stomach at the sound of them being hooked and sacrificed to the Entity. They probably won't be too happy about this the next time you see them...

It was only when you were the last one standing that Anna came back to retrieve you. She found you exactly where she had left you, and even though you couldn't see her face due to the rabbit mask, she seemed rather pleased that you had actually listened to her.

If she had it her way, Anna would keep you by her side. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. The Entity would probably force the trial to end if you didn't either escape or die.

She begrudgingly brought you to hatch, the black mist pouring from it, silently promising safety if you jumped into it. You stared at it, confused about what it was, and that protectiveness she was feeling only seemed to grow stronger when you looked up at her for an explanation. The only explanation she offered was a slight gesture to you, and then the hatch.

"Иди, кролик." She says, lightly pushing you to the hatch and watching as you hesitantly decide to trust her, jumping into the hatch and leaving her alone as the fog comes and places her back in the Red Forest.

If she's lucky, she'll be in a trial with you again soon.

THE TRICKSTER

He'll immediately recognize you to be new. He prides himself in recognizing every survivor he's encountered, either by their face or by the sound of their screams. Mostly their screams.

And he certainly didn't recognize the scream he heard when one of his throwing knives ricocheted and hit you while he was chasing down another one of the newer survivors; Sable. It was a small, startled scream, nothing worth his attention, but it was new. That was enough to make this trial more exciting, and he found himself keeping his eyes peeled for you.

Which... was a lot easier than he expected it to be, because you just kept running right into him. Seriously. Did you not pay attention to your surroundings? Do you think he's a survivor?? Do you not see the bloodied fucking bat he's holding???

He's not sure if he's annoyed or amused by this. Partially both, to be honest. It's amusing to see you relax for a split second after bumping into him, not recognizing him to be the killer immediately. It's annoying because he'd like to hear you scream, please and thank you.

Jiwoon doesn't necessarily target you during the trial. To be honest, he's trying to weed out the other survivors before focusing his attention on you.

He wanted to take his time with you, to see what sounds he could pull out of you before the Entity forced the trial to end. Just the sound of you gasping whenever you bump into him has his mind racing.

This was honestly enough to keep him motivated throughout the entire trial, a certain bloodlust sparking in him. He relished the sound of everyone else's screams, but they weren't appealing to him right now.

He needed the other survivors out of the way. He needed you alone. And when he finally got rid of the last pesky survivor, the fun began.

And when he corners you in killer shack, he really didn't plan on being merciful. He wanted to hear you scream, and then he wanted to kill you, really. That was his plan.

The only way you'd get out of this alive is if you beg, honestly. And I mean beg. On your knees, crying, pleading, offering something in return for your survival. That sort of begging.

You were new and shiny in comparison to all of the other survivors, and maybe it's because he's a sadistic bastard, but he really does adore the sight of you on your knees, crying as he absently nicks your skin with one of his throwing knives.

This is where Jiwoon feels a bit torn, truth be told. He's never been a patient man, so he wants to get as many screams out of you as he can before the Entity forced the trial to end. But at the same time, he knew he'd see you again in a future trial, sooner or later.

It wouldn't hurt to prolong his time with you, would it?

The entire time he's pondering this, he's dragging the blade across your skin, relishing in the sweet sounds of your gasps and whimpers, and you stutter out a desperate 'please'.

Ultimately, Jiwoon decides to be nice, just this once. He'll mutter a quiet, "짜증나..." before hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you off.

You struggled, obviously, assuming he was ending your misery and taking you to a hook. He didn't really mind much, having an iron grasp on you that kept you from wiggling free.

He dropped you right next to the hatch once he found it, finding your small pained sound to be adorable as you look at your salvation with a confused expression. But before you can crawl into it and escape, he's grabbing you by the back of your shirt and pulling you back a bit.

For a moment, you think he's going to kill you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, expecting pain. But nothing comes. You feel him tuck something in your shirt, and he lightly pats your cheek, cooing a bit at your terror before he lets you go and leaves you alone.

And when you're back at the campfire, you find a photo of Jiwoon neatly folded and tucked into your shirt, signed with his autograph.

He'll have an encore the next time he sees you, and you can only hope you don't find yourself in a trial with him again any time soon.

THE GHOSTFACE

Would actually never give you hatch under normal circumstances. He's here to kill, so kill he shall. He treated you the same as any other survivor when he first saw you, though it wasn't until he was in chase with you that he realized how interesting you were.

For one, you were... surprisingly good at looping him?? For a newbie, he was rather impressed. That's not enough to get him to let you live, but it's definitely a start.

No, his interest is only truly piqued when you start quoting horror movies during chase.

Honestly, if he didn't know any better, he'd think you to be flirting with him. A person after his heart, truly.

It was only when he had you cornered that you really caught his attention. You weren't scared, and it intrigued him as much as it annoyed him.

He was just itching to dig his knife into you and take a photo of your lifeless corpse once he was finished. But even with your life at risk, you showed no fear.

Hell, you even mocked him.

"No, please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel."

Sure, you weren't the first survivor to mock him, and you certainly won't be the last, but he found you interesting.

Oh, he needed to kill you. He needed your photo in his collection, it would be his favorite.

But he thought it would be more fun to humor you. Danny was a patient man. This isn't the first time he's drawn out a kill.

You were honestly surprised that he had left you alone. You didn't think that would actually work, and you were... a bit concerned, actually. None of the other killers you had ended up in a trial with during your short time here has entertained you the way Danny has, and you're not sure if you should be scared or not.

And, much to your very hesitant relief, you didn't see him for the rest of the trial. You knew he was watching you though. Every once in a while, you just felt... you're not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost felt as if you were being hunted.

You'd see him from the corner of your eye though. Never for long, just quick flashes of his screaming mask. Honestly, you felt less scared when he was actively trying to murder you.

That's how the rest of the trial went for you, at least. Until eventually, you were the only one left standing. You may be new, but the other survivors had given you the rundown of what to do if you were the last one standing before the trial had started.

You had to find hatch. Which was... easier said than done, truthfully. Especially since you weren't sure where the fuck Danny was. There's no way he was letting you go, right? He's probably saving you for last, right?

Whenever you so much as caught a glimpse of something moving, you were scurrying in the other direction.

This is pretty much Danny's way of giving you hatch. There's no way he'd give it to you directly, not yet.

You had honestly thought you had found it all by yourself until you were fucking stabbed, the flash of a camera in your face blinding you.

Truth be told, Danny did plan on killing you. He had wanted to give you a false sense of hope. But your stupid little smile when you saw hatch got to him, okay? So he'll settle for this for now.

"You owe me."

And he doesn't even spare you a glance as he pushes you into the hatch's mist, his gaze intently focused on the photo of you he had just taken.

Unfortunately for you, you've caught his attention.

THE ARTIST

Carmina is one of the more merciful killers you may come across, so she'd be fairly likely to give a new survivor hatch depending on how the trial has gone and whether or not she's consumed by anger.

She only realizes that you're new to the fog when her crows surround you and you don't try shooing them away. When she finds you, you're actually... rather content having a murder of crows surrounding you.

Very very confused. She'll probably just stare at you for a hot second as you go about the trial without a single care for the crows swarming around you. Even the crows are confused.

You distract her long enough with your antics that a good chunk of the gens pop, and she had to force herself to leave you be in order to focus on hunting the other survivors.

She'll ignore you for the entire trial after she leaves you be. Her crows can keep watch for her.

So for the rest of the trial she's only vaguely aware of your location, occasionally stopping once in a while to determine whether or not her crows were still with you. They were.

Even the other survivors seemed confused by your behavior.

On the rare occasion that she bumped into you during the trial, it was always when another survivor was nearby trying to tell you how to get rid of the crows.

You never even tried to shoo away the crows throughout the entire trial, and at some point, they stopped swarming around you. They didn't go away, no. You, somehow, managed to tame Carmina's crows with little trinkets that you found littered across the place.

Honestly, the crows seemed to like you enough that even if Carmina told them to hurt you, they probably wouldn't listen to her. It's hard to believe that you were a new survivor with how calm you were about everything happening.

It's probably that calm nature, coupled with your ability to calm her crows, that solidified in her mind that you were the only one who would make it out alive.

And with a newfound determination, Carmina sacrificed the other three survivors with no issues, and she could hear hatch opening not too far away from her.

With the help of her crows, Carmina was able to easily bring you to hatch, and she could only tilt her head to the side and make a small, croaking sound as you smiled and thanked both her and her crows before jumping into the hatch.

This is one of the many moments Carmina laments no longer being able to create art. She'd love to immortalize the image of you smiling at her, surrounded by her crows.

THE CANNIBAL

Bubba is honestly torn when he spots you, because you look so afraid, cowering in fear at every little sound and struggling to repair a generator like the others had told you to. He understands your fear because it's something he's very familiar with.

And while he has a job to do, not wanting to disappoint the Entity, he can't help but find it hard to hurt you. No matter how hard it was, Bubba had no choice.

But when he approached you, you didn't run. Sure, you let out a startled shout, the generator blowing up in your face as you stared up at him like a scared animal, quietly begging him not to hurt you.

But you didn't run.

How could he hurt you when you weren't running from him? Everyone always ran. But not you. You weren't running from him, and he didn't know what to do about that.

Bubba's trouble was so very evident. He's always been an expressive person, so it wasn't hard to tell that this was stressing him out. His free hand kept clenching and unclenching his apron, and he kept making small noises in the back of his throat.

He doesn't want to disappoint the Entity, he doesn't. But he's not sure if he can hurt someone who's not running from him. You aren't running! He really likes that! The only people who never ran when he was around were his family!

The nail in the coffin is when you, even despite your fear, took a chance and set down the toolbox you were holding. You... you gave him a gift. Not one that he could use, but a gift nonetheless.

There was literally no way he could hurt you now the guilt would eat him alive. So, he just opts to leave you be to instead focus on the other survivors. He wouldn't feel guilty hurting them.

The entire trial, Bubba focuses all of his attention on getting rid of the other survivors. If he sees you, he gets all nervous and can't even look at you for long without babbling incoherently before scurrying away.

Some of the other survivors may pick up on Bubba's strange avoidment of you, and may even use that to their advantage by running by you in chase because Bubba just... he can't hurt you, I'm sorry.

He's swinging his chainsaw, and then suddenly Kate is running by you and he's coming to a full stop out of fear of accidentally hurting you.

It really stresses him out, and even though you're still scared of him, and even though he's supposed to be killing you, you can't help but feel bad. So whenever the other survivors got a little too close when Bubba was chasing them, you always made sure to stay out of his way.

It's okay to be a bad teammate because it's Bubba.

Jokes aside, Bubba takes his job as a killer very seriously. He may avoid hurting you, but he makes quick work of the other survivors.

And when hatch opened right next to Bubba after killing the third survivor, he took it as a sign from the Entity that he was meant to give it to you. Why else would it open next to him?

Bubba was ever the gentleman when he brought you to hatch, guiding you to it carefully and making sure you didn't trip on any debris littered across the area.

He even scared off a few judgmental crows! He knew how off-putting it was to have them watching you all the time, especially when you're new in the fog.

And when you quietly thank him, smiling at him as if he weren't a killer, Bubba was just over the moon.

It's been so long since he's had someone to protect. The fog is a scary place to be but he'll do his best to make it a happy place whenever you two are in a trial together.

Оставайся здесь. - Stay here. Иди, кролик. - Go, rabbit. 짜증나. - How annoying.

[istoleyoursk1n]

I’d love a take on like mental health disabilities. Where it isn’t physical, but your mental health issues are severe enough that they impact your life. Like panic disorder or mood disorders (e.g bipolar disorder type 1 or 2). These often do have physical symptoms but differ from physical disabilities. Also MH issues can be massively triggered by poor sleep, I think the companions would make the connection. Perhaps that’s what clues them in? I’m up for anything! I am most interested in: Gale, Wyll, and Astarion in that order! Blessings to you in this season!🤍

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would the boys react to a Tav with mental health issues?

.

.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

He’s been concerned for you the moment he awoke to you still wandering about the camp in the late hours of the morning. You would insist that you’d head right back to sleep but you never seem to do so.

Not just that, but the fact that you hardly eat as much as the others concerns him. He assumed it was due to your self proclaimed ‘small-appetite’ but this was getting too far.

It was difficult at first to work his way around your constant mood swings. You were unpredictable but he didn't want to come off as overbearing.

Over time, he’d come to learn and soon enough understand whatever’s troubling you. He simply couldn't leave you to your own devices, not when there's something clearly bothering you beyond the stress of the absolute and whatnot.

Discovering your mental issues was a situation he handled as gently as possible, trying to figure out where these issues could have stemmed from.

For once he's not rambling, allowing you to speak aloud and vent out all your frustrations and sorrows as he sits there, attentively listening to each one.

It was heartbreaking for him to hear about everything that's been on your mind but he’ll figure out a way to make it better with you. Having you trust him enough to say all this was just the push he needed for him to give you his unyielding support.

From then on, he planned out ways to help out. Whether that be casting a sleep spell on you (with your consent) or eating beside you to monitor your food intake, he suddenly becomes the perfect caretaker. If you didn't have the energy to take care of yourself, he was there to tend to you.

He’ll constantly encourage you to voice or write down your concerns whenever it all gets too much, staying there right by your side to provide whatever comfort he can. He could even cast a spell or two to alleviate some of the stress that had lingered into your mind.

And if you ever get a sudden panic attack? Don't worry, he’ll be right there to guide you through it, implementing breathing exercises he had learned and love-filled words of reassurance to get you to calm down.

Through thick and thin, he's by your side, handling each problem you face step by step.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

Your lack of energy during battles was something he immediately noticed. It was nothing something that could be knocked down by inexperience at all, this was something very different and he could sense it.

Even the way you walked and talked at times sounded oddly… tired and while this entire journey was quite exhausting, this was beyond that.

At first, he confronted you about it, asking if there was something troubling you and whatnot but you never seemed to give him the honest answer.

It was upsetting him, even frustrating at times but he knew better than to lash out at someone who was clearly going through something. He just had to understand you better.

It took him a while to get there, especially with your mood swings and defensive behavior but that didn't deter him one bit. What would usually lead to heated arguments for most was instead him atempting to soothe you.

His heart practically shattered the first time you finally broke down in front of him, pouring your own heart out for him to hold in the hopes that it would be in good hands.

Thankfully, he handled it with care, cradling you gently in his embrace the moment tears began to fall. Every plea, whisper, and cry was another reason for him to shower you with an endless amount of love.

You came to him shattered, but he would be more than willing to pick up and kiss every piece, being there for you in the moments when it felt as though the world was simply getting too much.

He would be the one to encourage you both to talk, allowing you to express your concerns and all your troubles whilst you both try to figure out a way to tend to each other.

He’d do whatever he could to keep you happy, going out of his way to bring you your favorite flowers to make you feel better. He truly cares for you and he’d gift you the world if he could.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

The bully 2.0

Had little regard for you at first, your obvious signs of exhaustion and stress only made him want to poke at you more. A jab here, a jab there, he was being as snarky as always without realizing its effects.

However, somewhere along the line, you snapped at him in a way that almost made him cower. It reminded him too much of certain memories he dared not discuss so openly.

You were angry but also pained, a fury of emotions he couldn't help but feel saddened by. Such sorrow was being directed straight at him and the petty remarks that would usually come from him after such an outburst were gone.

He can see your pain, your suffering, that something was going on… and that perhaps this time, he shouldn't be pushing you even further.

Was it guilt that he felt? Maybe. However, the aching feeling gnawing at his chest made him want to treat you better.

It was difficult at first, he had no idea how to predict or go about it all without you lashing at him but he was persistent.

He had put his false facade away just to apologize, to help understand you at a level where he could finally see what’s been troubling that mind of yours. It was certainly something he’d never find himself doing but for you? He’ll try.

Suddenly, he's talking to you in a softer tone, treating you as gently as he could without being too pushy or forward. He’d do what he could to help you vent out everything you've kept inside, piecing the pieces of the elaborate puzzle that is you.

He’d be there to calm you when the storm in your head gets too hard to control, a storm he would make the effort to weather in hopes that in the end, it would bring you both peace.

On those cold nights when you can't bring yourself to sleep, he’d be there to stay up with you, staying by your side until you both fall fast asleep or to listen to every concern you may have.

And if it helps, perhaps slaying a goblin or two would reduce the stress. However, if violence is quite your forte, allow him to stitch up a small little plush for you in his free time. Something to keep you happy (as he curses for pricking himself with the needle.)

For you have grown to be someone he deeply cares for, someone who he wants to protect and treasure, flaws and all. He knows what it's like to carry such a heavy mental toll on yourself, and he hopes that you and him can get through these issues together.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[lynnlovesthestars]

Kiss me slowly

Pairing: Astarion x Genderfluid oc (Lynn)

summary: sometimes realization hits when you least expect it.

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird

There was a difference between the kisses Astarion and Lynn shared up to that day, and real kisses, and it was the emotions, or rather, it seemed the emotions were one sided. Not that Astarion wasn’t infatuated with Lynn, but mostly he tried to hide it, both from himself and the other, aware that the moment he’d tear down that wall, he’d be barer to the changeling, which scared him to death.

It was late night when the two decided to take a bath, the exhausting day had made it unbearable to sleep without taking a moment to clean away the blood.

They couldn’t even share a word as they soaked, the cicadas the only silence in the night. Despite the silence, the two still sat close to each other, their shoulders brushing close as the still water rocked them.

“Moon” Lynn was the one to break the silence as he stared at the night sky, focusing on the delicate light it projected on the two as if they were actor on scene.

“Mh?” Astarion raised his eyes to the changeling, turning his head and taking a moment to stare at the other. The moonlight paled compared to his pearlescent skin, despite having such strong features, he still carried ever so softly as if he couldn’t help but tiptoe his way through life. It was truly something Astarion had admired, especially since he had learned more about him- the last time the bathed together, it was so bold yet delicate, as if afraid to catch any attention.

Astarion had missed what the other had said as their eyes met, the darkness of Lynn’s black eyes swallowed Astarion in one gulp, as if they had mesmerized him.

There was again a lack of words that made every breath oddly loud as the two stared at each other, cheeks flushing thanks to the closeness.

“Astarion..” Lynn pronounced his name imperceptibly as he felt the familiar pull in his chest.

He wanted to lean in, to catch his lips with his, even though he knew his feelings were not reciprocated, and yet he could barely have enough no matter if it was real or just a lie.

Astarion’s fingers were itching to reach forward, fighting against the common sense as he sat up, the water dripping down his body as he stood in front of the changeling, his face at the same level with Lynn’s for the first time, as the other followed his movements to never miss his eyes.

It was quick, unexpected, real. And they both knew it.

Astarion’s hands reached forward, cupping his cheeks- no gripping at his face as he leaned forward in one swift movement and smashed his lips against Lynn’s, colliding against his muscular chest.

Lynn’s hands naturally reached for Astarion’s hips, firmly holding on to his frail frame as he welcomed his lips softly, with a gasp that Astarion swore snatched something from deep within him.

Lynn gently guided Astarion in his lap, his body slowly easing down as he trusted Lynn to hold him to his chest as their lips danced desperately together with gasps and sighs.

There was something about that kiss, that convinced Astarion he was never going to share this with the universe, he was never going to share Lynn, he was never going to share kisses with anyone else but Lynn yet he couldn’t name it yet.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! I love your hero/villains stuff, so I had an idea you might like! The hero pretty much hates the villain for ruining their life, but it turns out the villain actually is in love with them. The hero obviously doesn't feel the same way, but they still are very surprised when the villain tells them they love them and all. It's okay if you don't want to write it, it's oddly specific lol. Have a great day!

"This is how you treat people that you love?"

"You might have noticed," the villain said, quietly, "that I haven't done anything to harm you or anything you care about in quite some time. Certainly not actively."

The hero blinked - faltered, if only for a moment.

"Obviously," the villain said, holding the hero's gaze with a steadiness that the hero didn't think they'd feel if their situations were reversed. "I was not in love you from start, and that does not take back what I have done."

The hero swallowed. Fury pulsed in waves beneath their skin, too hot and close and tangled. It choked in their throat. It made their teeth hurt.

"But the more I ruined your life, the more I realised what a profound affect you have on the people around you," the villain said, taking a step closer. "You are...remarkable and, even in the debris of my actions, it soon became clear that death alone could diminish their loyalty to you."

"They're not followers-"

"No."

The hero stared at them.

"They're your friends, I know," the villain said. "You don't have followers."

The hero shook their head, taking a step back for the one the villain had taken forward. Their fingers flexed at their sides.

"Having friends doesn't make me remarkable. That just makes me a halfway decent person."

The villain smiled - if it could be called such a thing. A gentle curve of their lips, lacking any real joy. "I know."

The hero had expected a fight. They wanted a fight. They wanted to punch the villain across the mouth, until the only thing that came out was blood, instead of such...

The villain's head tilted as the hero's gaze moved over their lips.

"I'll break your teeth," the hero hissed. "You have no right to say this to me. You have no - how dare you."

The villain shrugged.

"You think I love you back?" the hero demanded. "Because if you think I could ever-"

"No." The villain tucked their hands into their pockets, watching the hero with a disgusting calm, given the circumstances. But, then, the villain had always taken such delight in watching things unravel.

"You ruined my life." The hero couldn't breathe. They scrubbed a hand over their face, horrified to find the tears pricking their eyes.

"I have left you enough of your life that I am not the only thing you have to left to love," the villain murmured. "Trust me when I say it goes against my every instinct."

The hero's hands dropped, head snapping up, horrified. "I wouldn't love you even if you were the last living organism on earth!"

"Yes." In an instant, the villain was in front of them. They brushed the hero's tears away with a love as tender as a bruise. "I know."

Then the villain kissed them, just once, on the forehead.

"Only a monster would love me," the villain said. "And you, oh you. You would never, ever, be that."

The hero punched them in the mouth, then. As the villain staggered back, scarlet-lipped to match the bloody haze of rage washing out of the hero, the villain finally smiled for real.

And, for the first time, the hero felt a little monstrous too.

"You're in love with a dream," the hero said. "Wake up."

They left with their knuckles still throbbing.

[btskitten7]

Silent Grace| Chapter one: the 'perfect' family 

✎ ship: Min Yoongi x Fem reader

✎ au/genre: Mafia!Au , angsty , smut, Violence

✎ rating: Mature 18+

✎ wc: 3.2k

 ⚠︎ chapter warnings: none

✎summary: Min Yoongi lives a pretty private life for the most part. He is rich and powerful. His name carries weight. He is one of the most feared men alive but he has a soft, sweet spot. You are his sweet spot. You are the one thing he swore to protect...even if it means lying to you...

About everything.

“Good morning, beautiful” 

The words always filled your heart with happiness as you turned into your boyfriend’s arms, pecking his lips softly and wrapping your arms around your neck while he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Good morning, my love.” 

Yoongi always knew how to make you swoon whenever he was near. You knew him back in high school but you wouldn’t say you two were close, per say. More like when you were in class, you’d talk casually but after school you had your separate group of friends. Especially since you were focused on getting your Nursing degree while Yoongi was focused on music amongst other things from what you heard. So you were acquaintances for lack of a better term.  You didn’t even become friends with Yoongi until you ran into him while working at a random cafe after high school. 

You guys almost clicked instantly, for you it was a nice catch-up but for Yoongi, it was nice to see someone from his past when his life was still normal and calm. You guys ended up talking until you closed that night. 

The night was full of laughter and good conversation which led to Yoongi coming by every day at closing to spend some time with you. It was easy for you because you had someone to talk to while doing chores, and it was great for him since he didn’t always like being in crowded areas all the time. 

From that moment on, Yoongi always related you to his tranquility, his eye of the storm. He quickly fell into a routine. He’d wake up, eat, go to work, come home, shower then come see you, go home, then finally, he’d go to sleep with you on the brain. He had a lot of thoughts about the future for him, for you, just how he could be the best for you. 

In the beginning, you didn’t see Yoongi that way nor did you think he thought of you like this. You always found him handsome of course, even in high school. That wasn’t something you ever denied. You just never put Yoongi and a potential boyfriend in the same category. He was popular then and he still was. Mainly because his family is rich and had so much power in Daegu. Everyone respected the Min family. They always had the best of the best. The best parties, the best cars, the best homes. You’ve been invited by Yoongi multiple times to come to one of his parties but you always declined to focus on your studies.  By the time you graduated high school, Yoongi was already classified as a millionaire.  But even with that, Yoongi wasn’t the typical popular guy. He didn’t ask for it, nor did he do anything in particular to gain popularity. He knew most people became his friend just for the status or for good looks.  He was more on the quiet side and his other friends were the loud ones, he was in his own world most of the time. He only had two friends that he trusted, mainly because they’ve been in his life for as long as he could remember. 

Namjoon was a few years younger than him. They never had class together, but they would always hang out with one another growing up. Namjoon’s father was best friends with Yoongi’s father. Even to this day, both of their fathers still consider each other great friends. They always took care of one another so naturally, Yoongi and Namjoon did the same for one another. Namjoon looked up to Yoongi, and he always wanted to make him proud oddly enough. 

Seokjin on the other hand viewed both Yoongi and Namjoon as two younger brothers he never had. He didn’t have much of a relationship with his parents, in fact he hardly knew them. He always did things on his own until Yoongi’s father found him when he was just sixteen years old. Yoongi wasn’t looking for a sibling but when Seokjin came around, both Namjoon and Yoongi loved having him around. He was always cracking jokes and he always loved cooking. That’s where Yoongi learned how to cook, even if he hardly does it now. Namjoon could never get a hold of how to cook, but he didn’t need to, he was more book smart anyway. 

You hardly remember seeing Seokjin or Namjoon while in school with Yoongi. You were pretty sure they were around but you were more focused on your school work than anything else. 

With that being said, Yoongi wouldn’t talk to anyone other than his friends…and you when in class of course. You were different to him. He didn’t know if it would develop into anything, but he knew he liked you.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to become closer. 

You quickly became friends that eventually became lovers. 

Yoongi was everything you ever wanted in a boyfriend. He was sweet, he was attentive, he even cooked with you. He had a big beautiful home and money, you didn’t really care about that, but it was a nice perk. He loved taking you on dates, it was truly his favorite thing. He didn’t care where you wanted to go as long as he was with you. You guys mostly went out around evening time or after it was dark. You didn’t mind it too much since the streets of Seoul light up the best after dark. A truly beautiful sight. Hardly ever did you both have time to go out during the day, which was understandable since you were moving forward in your career and he had his own as well. You assumed he decided to work with his father to maintain his family riches or he really decided to take music seriously. You’ve heard a few of his songs and he’s really good. 

 You had days off but it seemed Yoongi never had any days off and he was always leaving, sometimes for days at a time. At first you were understanding, you didn’t want to question him about his work. But these work trips were becoming more frequent and more demanding. Some would last a few weeks, and you wouldn’t hear from Yoongi often; again usually at night wherever he was. 

You found those work demands to be odd. He was always extremely tired and cuddly when he came home. You didn’t hate that but sometimes, it was concerning how he clung to you at the end of the night. It was almost like he had a guilty conscience when he came home. Nevertheless, you were always there for him. Never questioning him. Maybe working with his father was hard. 

There was more than that though. Sometimes his co-workers or people who worked for him–actually not some times, damn near everyday– his workers would come over and talk business with him. For hours.

Yoongi also had so many people that would come over to your shared home on a daily basis. You remember back when Yoongi had asked you to come move in with him. He had maids, cooks, gardeners, even car keepers and mechanics would come by and perform certain tasks. Nothing out of the ordinary for someone that has lots of money, but different for you. 

Most of the time, you guys wouldn’t drive. Yoongi always had a driver to take either you or him wherever you needed to go. You liked it, especially when you worked long hours and didn’t feel like driving but it was new to you.

He had it all. Anything you wanted, he got it for you and more. No matter the price. He even mentioned to you about building another home closer to your mom. When you guys would be at his home, your mom could stay in the other one. You wondered what your boyfriend and his father did to afford a lifestyle such as this. You presumed they were businessmen, since you knew his family owned a couple companies. Although Yoongi was gone a lot, often he would continue his work in his office. You hardly went in there, you couldn’t even remember what it looked like inside. The door was always locked. Only Yoongi, Namjoon and Seokjin held the password for the room which was odd to you, but you presumed that it was very important business in there, and since he had so many people in and out of your home, he didn’t want just anyone walking in and out of his office. 

You’d met his mother but never his father. He was always busy and never able to get out of work. But yet, Yoongi’s father was always on these business trips with him. 

You tried asking his mother about the work Yoongi and his father would work on, but she would stumble around the question or just sweetly tell you it was something for Yoongi to tell you, which he had no intention of doing. You never really asked, so,  could you blame him? Today, that will change.

Finally building the courage, you decided that today you were going to ask the burning question. 

Your fingers played with Yoongi’s long hair that rested against the nape of his neck, looking into his eyes. His eyes rest on your lips before looking into yours. Chuckling softly.

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours? Is there something you want? Whatever it is, it’s yours, no questions asked.” Yoongi smiled softly before he turned his head and gave the most chilling look possible to the chef and maid who were doing their duties in the kitchen. 

“Do you mind? My girlfriend and I are having a private conversation,” his voice was teetering on the line of dark and demanding, but not rude. Just very stern and straight to the point. 

They didn’t question him, they immediately dropped what they were doing and left the kitchen. Of course you were taken back but you didn’t question it either, he’s done it millions of times at this point, you were hardly phased by it. 

“They didn’t have to leave baby. I just have a question,” you exclaimed. “They did, we deserve to have each other to ourselves before we head to work.” Yoongi smiled as his hands rubbed your waist. “Speaking of work..” you trailed off. His eyebrow cocked as you continued, “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“You’ve decided to allow me to take care of you?” Yoongi asked. You playfully rolled your eyes and scoffed as he chuckled from your response. “You already take care of me, my job is practically a stressful hobby at this point,” you laughed along with him. “All the more reason for you to leave it altogether” he soothed. 

“Seriously baby, I have a real question,” you giggled, he lifted his hands and chuckled, surrendering “okay okay, love. Talk to me.” 

You took a deep breath before pushing your words out. “I’ve been thinking, we’ve been together for a few years now, four to be exact, and I realized that you never told me about your job before. You’ve taken me to work parties and I’ve met your co-workers but I haven’t been to your job to, you know, bring you lunch or do other…things, you know? But what do you do? What’s your job title?” You both shared a small chuckle as you continued, “I just want to know what my man does.” 

You couldn’t tell but Yoongi was genuinely taken aback by that question. He quickly realized you were right. He never told you anything about his job. 

“You’re right baby, I guess I never told you, huh? Well, my father and I own a real estate company. We have different clients all over Korea, Japan, and the states. My father started it when I was younger and once I graduated, he began teaching me about the business so I could run it and pass it to my son. Whenever that happens.” Yoongi explained. “The reason for the recent jump into more traveling is my father wants to expand to Paris amongst other places.”  

You believed him. No question about it. That would explain the many trips, late nights, and early mornings. 

“That’s so cool. I bet you see so many beautiful places!” you smiled completely amazed. “I’m kind of jealous.” 

“Baby, you can see any of those places and more. We can go whenever you want. I can easily have Namjoon or Seokjin take over for me for a while. They’re more than just co workers, they are like the..’boss’ when the boss is away. Name the place and we’ll be on the next flight,” Yoongi said, kissing your lips. You pouted. “You can take days off since you practically own the company, nursing isn’t so forgiving,” you said, popping a strawberry into your mouth after kissing him goodbye. “I’ll see you later tonight baby! I have some errands to run and your mom wants to meet up for a little!” you yelled as you walked towards your shared room and back to your stunning walk-in closet that looked like a room all on its own. 

Yoongi let out a sigh of relief as you walked off. Leaning against the counter, his head was spiraling as Namjoon and Seokjin walked in. 

“Why does it look like you’ve been stressing over an exam?” Seokjin joked while Namjoon scoffed playfully. Yoongi wasn’t in the mood to laugh. 

“I just lied to my girlfriend…again.” 

The guys looked at each other before looking at Yoongi. They never knew what to do in these situations. 

“Truthfully boss, we told you it wasn’t a good idea. Especially with the life you currently live,” Namjoon advised. 

Seokjin agreed, “You should have learned from your parents’ situation.” 

Yoongi scoffed, “ I have no intention of marrying someone I don’t like, let alone love. I can’t live like that…” he trailed off thinking about you. 

“You must really love her,” Seokjin said. 

“With my whole heart.” Yoongi challenged, “There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s the one I love.” 

“Then why haven’t you told her?” 

Before Yoongi could answer you waltz back into the kitchen to kiss him goodbye. 

“Oh, good morning Joon. Good morning Seokjin! I’m sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to tell Yoongi goodbye.” You smiled as you squeezed past them to get to Yoongi who’s smile hasn’t left his face since you entered the room. 

“You weren’t interrupting anything, we were just talking about the day ahead. Speaking of, when you get home, let’s go somewhere tonight?” Yoongi asked, kissing your cheek gently. 

“Okay baby, wherever you want to go.” You kissed his lips once more, “your mom is waiting for me! I’ll see you later. Bye Joon, bye Seokjin! See you soon!” you smiled as you headed out the door. 

“Have a great day, yn.” Joon smiled

“Bring me back something special!” Seokjin joked, earning a look from Yoongi. “Have fun, yn. Stay safe!” Seokjin chuckled along with you as you left 

Yoongi sighed once you were out the door.  

“She seems pretty understanding, why won’t you just talk to her?” Namjoon asked, finally relaxing. 

“She sees this big house, all your workers, the late nights, the traveling…why not just be honest?” Seokjin asked as he signaled the cook to come back and complete breakfast. 

“We know what happens when people find out about our ‘work’; they no longer want anything to do with us. I don’t want that with yn. More importantly, the less people that know about her, the better chance I can keep her safe,” Yoongi admitted. “I’m afraid that once someone knows about her…I’ll lose her. Not because she found out, but because someone found out about her…”

Namjoon and Seokjin nodded. 

“So…I guess we’re real estate agents now?” Seokjin joked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, we are. I need you two to go buy some property. Some here, some in Japan, and the states. I don’t care what you buy but just make sure it’s at least liveable. Something you can see yourself in. Maybe we could really sell something to bring in more revenue,” Yoongi said, tossing his keys to Namjoon as he headed back upstairs. 

“And what are you going to do?” 

“I’m going back to bed.” 

The guys watched Yoongi run his fingers through his long locks as he yawned heading to his bedroom and closed the door behind him. 

“I wish I could go back to bed,” Seokjin scoffed. “Lucky bastard.” 

Namjoon chuckled, “There’s always time to sleep on the plane. Let’s go find some property to make us some money.” He wrapped his arm roughly around Seokjin’s shoulders as they headed out the door. 

Yoongi didn’t go to sleep, though. He just laid there. Thinking about you. He knew his ‘job’ was gruesome in some– most cases. He knew his life up to now wasn’t something to be romanticized or even glorified. Noting he did was something you’d be proud about. You wouldn’t even find the things he did to be exciting or fascinating. You were too gentle and sweet to enjoy things like that. You hardly watched true crimes. You work as a nurse and sometimes you’d see the worst of the worst. Why would you want to come home and hear about the same thing you just handled at work? Yoongi saw how sometimes work took a toll on you, it killed him to hear about some of the cases that he was the cause for. 

It really fucked him up in the head to hear about his girlfriend taking care of a person his guys handled on his behalf. He hated it. It’s one of the reasons why he wants you to quit. 

But he knew if you did, you would be here alone, a lot. Then the questions would begin again and you would possibly find out the truth. Then you would leave him. Which he didn’t want, but if you ever left him, he couldn’t keep you safe. You and your family would be in danger, he couldn’t have that. You weren’t like his mother and he wasn't like his father. You really cared for one another. He wanted nothing but the best for you, and you wanted nothing but the best for him. 

“She’s different, Sir,” one of his maids, Kai, said standing by the closet. Yoongi looked over at her before looking back at the ceiling. Kai has been his maid since he was a kid. He has a soft spot for her, so he hardly ever yells at her and he often comes to her for advice. 

“I know. Isn’t she amazing?” he smiled softly. “I did nothing to deserve her.” 

“You’re a good kid, too, Min. You’re better than your father,” she admitted sitting next to Yoongi. He sat up and nodded, chuckling. “Everyone is better than my father. There’s no questioning that.” 

Now, Yoongi wouldn’t let a soul talk bad about his father. Deep down, he knew his father had good intentions. But he couldn’t deny the shit he put his family through, let alone Kai’s family. 

“Just promise, no matter what..You’ll treat her with the same love and respect you show me and your mother.” Kai smiled. 

Yoongi pulled his lips into a straight line and nodded, “Of course. I really love her Kai…I really do.” 

“Oh? So a baby and a wedding soon?” Kai joked. 

“Wedding? Possibly. A baby? To be determined,” Yoongi laughed.

[koolades-world]

Spellbound Secrets

chapter eight: catacomb escape

synopsis: The House of Lamentation caught fire one night, and you were the only one they recovered from the wreckage. The brothers were in the house as well when you went to bed that night, but they were nowhere to be found. The pact marks are faded, and seem to be getting more and more indefinite by the day. You and Solomon get to investigating but oddly enough, nobody can seem to remember the missing brothers. It’s up to you, with the help of Solomon, to find your beloved demons, lest you never see them again.

navigation: playlist | prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight (you are here!) | chapter nine (coming next week) (if you're looking for all spellbound secrets content, such as chapters ahead of this one, head to my tags masterlist or simply look up the tag spellbound secrets!)

authors note: i am literally so silly. i completed this last night and just never hit post??? oh well monday morning surprise lol

With the rest of the plan out on the table now, the two of you debated what move to make next.

"Where should we head first?" Solomon wanted you to decide, since you were the one that was fading.

"Let's head to the attic first. It's closer." The attic didn't hold the most pleasant of memories, but if some sort of clue or answer happened to be up there, you wanted to be sure you could find it. Carefully, the two of you made your way to the attic staircase. Again, Solomon demanded that he test it out first. When he'd made it to the top, he had you slowly follow behind him. At the top of the staircase, you were face to face with the warped metal bars that separated the stairs from the rest of the room. On one hand, the damage didn't seem too bad, which would only affirm your theory that the fire originated in Lucifer's study. However, on the other, you didn't find all that much. The attic was rather barren before the fire, so there was only less afterwards.

You didn't let the lack of finding discourage you. You still had the catacombs to check. Even if you came back empty handed from there, at the very least, you'd recovered memories of the brothers and potentially found a couple leads in the mysterious colored ash and the hidden paperwork. But you weren't giving up yet.

Since it was underground, it should have been relatively untouched by the fire. There were a couple things you were hoping to find down there. First, Lucifer's grimoire. You weren't sure if it would even be there. If you could, though, you wanted to keep it safe. If there was anyone he could trust with it, it would be you. You would feel bad removing it from where he kept it, because the location held significance, if it would help you find him, you'd do it. You'd also hoped to potentially find Cerberus. There'd been no mention of the beloved, three-headed hellhound anywhere. Cerberus had existed independently of the brothers beforehand, so it would be strange not to find him. You'd feel bad for leaving him alone for so long, but if he was there, you knew he was probably alright. He'd probably need a good bath and a large treat, but you were almost certain it wasn't anything a little love couldn't fix. However, if he wasn't down there though, it would raise many new questions. You decided to cross that bridge when you got there and hope for the best.

Your entire trip had been filled with ifs. It would be impossible to answer every single one. When it grew hard to forge ahead, you just remembered who you were doing this for.

As you descended the stairs to the catacombs, your lungs filled with the damp, musty smelling air. After accidently stumbling into a cobweb, and nearly hacking your lungs out from inhaling dust, you were able to quickly tell nobody had been down in a while. At most, it had only been a month or two since the fire. It would just dusty, but surely not as dusty as it was. Solomon was by your side, making sure you were alright. As soon as you were able to convince him you were alright, you led the way through the crypt in search of Cerberus and Lucifer's grimoire. You'd encounter Cerberus before you'd even get wind of the grimoire, as it was the hellhound's job to guard it. As you grew closer, though, you were greeted with nothing more than the sound of your own footsteps echoing back at you.

"You don't hear anything, do you?" You whispered, despite not needing to.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Solomon stepped into the center of the large room you'd entered together. Just a couple rooms down, you'd be able to find the grimoire, yet still Cerberus was nowhere in sight. It seemed as if your worst fears had come true. Together, you continued into the room where Lucifer's grimoire sat on a pedestal. From a distance, it looked dusty, just like everything else in the room, but upon trying to brush it clean, you discovered it was the book itself crumbling. You could only gasp and recoil as part of what you touched disintegrated.

"This doesn't make any sense. This is so important to Lucifer. He'd never let anything happen to it." You were beyond frustrated.

"I don't quite understand this either. I had wanted take this home with us, but it seems as if that might not be happening." Solomon sighed and put a hand on his chin.

"Can't we just cast a preservation spell on it? Or maybe one that could restore it?" While you were the apprentice, you improved much since your training had began. You were willing to do whatever it took.

"I could, but we'd need to do it elsewhere. A restoration spell might do the trick, but that requires more work. A preservation spell would help us transport it, but I would be afraid I wouldn't be able to maintain it as well as I know I could. We're already keeping the house together with a spell of the same nature." Solomon explained. "My fear is that if we try to do both at the same time, they'll both respectively deteriorate." You gave his words some thought.

You spoke after a moment. "Then let me handle the spell for the book. You're doing most of the heavy lifting for the house." You felt as if Solomon was doing most of the work in keeping the house from falling apart. You wanted to feel more useful.

"Are you alright with that?" While he was enunciated clearly, you could see the worry creeping into his features.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to find answers. Based on everything we've seen so far, this is a lead that we can't afford to abandon." You could tell your words didn't comfort him, so you decided to say a little more. "I'll be alright, Sol. If I didn't think I could do it, I wouldn't offer." The two of you exchanged a warm smile.

"Just make sure you communicate any needs with me." Solomon let you step back towards the grimoire. You'd never put more effort into a spell. As soon as you'd finished casting it, you moved as fast as you'd let yourself to pick it up. You let out a mental sigh of relief when it didn't crumble in your hands. It was too large to fit in the backpack you'd brough along, so you clutched it close to your chest.

"Let's go home." You weren't sure how long you'd been in the house for at that point, but you search had been thorough, and that alone was enough to take everything out of you. You let out a sudden yawn.

"So you are tired?" Solomon nudged your shoulder.

"I never said I wasn't." You couldn't help but let out a snicker. His uncanny ability to lighten up a dark situation never failed to work on you. While he couldn't resolve the situation the two of you were in with a snap of his fingers, he could make it more bearable. If you had to be stuck with anyone, it would be him. As a pair, you made your way back the way you came. You kept your eyes peeled for any more useful clues, and signs of Cerberus but unfortunately, you weren't able to find any. The two of you were talking when Solomon suddenly cut himself off.

"What's the matter?" You studied him with intrigue. All of the whimsy from his features drained and they quickly set into something more serious.

"We need to teleport out of here, now." He forced you to make eye contact with him. You could practically smell the urgency.

"I thought that was too dangerous to do." In the past, you'd discussed this very topic in passing, but it was something you'd never forgotten just because of it's relevance.

"It isn't safe here anymore. I think the ceiling is about to collapse." Dust began to rain down on the two of you. Solomon deflected some bigger chunks with his cape.

"What happened? Our spell shouldn't have given in so easily." You found yourself having to practically yell due to the growing background rumbling.

"We can think about that later. We're leaving." He was already close to you, but he reached out and pulled you in until your head collided with his chest. He wasn't taking any chances. You chanced a glance up, and saw that the ceiling of the catacombs had cracks running the length of the chamber. It looked like piece directly above your head was about to give out at any second.

You held your breath and braced for impact.

tags list: @bagofmice

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/30/2024

most annoying book i've read so far this year under the jump

listening

a lovely polyrhythmic instrumental piece with previously-featured tuesdaysong artist, terrifying master of the cello, abel selaocoe. this is very textured and kind of scrubs at the inside of my skull in a pleasing way. like the kind of back scrubber you can buy with a bamboo handle and the long soft bristles. popped up on my recent releases playlist from spotify.

-

reading

really fucking pissed about this book and i am not able to be reasonable about it. i was really thrown, much like the fantasy prince's mother from her carriage as she was being chased by regency gossip reporters, that this was a prince harry/meghan markle RPF AU. i am a bit uncomfy about the fact that our female lead, the fantasy AU meghan markle, is some flavor of fantasy Gaelic instead of fantasy mixed-race. now, i have no particular moral or physical beef with RPF but i don't typically seek it out. but/also/and, much like works about marilyn monroe, i think works with the specter of princess diana are in poor taste. can we leave these women alone maybe

i got about halfway through the book before this revelation and didn't really feel like it succeeded at much of anything it was trying to do. oddly informal and choppy, like it was originally intended as a contemporary romance with some urban magic and changed to regency in a late draft. this is combined with some fairly weak prose: more simple sentence structure than i would expect in a book for young adults, far too many proper nouns, and a lack of interest in showing not telling.

i straight up don't understand why the leads are attracted to each other if she keeps making very public mistakes and he's a rude cunt. i have read other books (most recently the t kingfisher books) where someone grows to love a very gruff or taciturn man, but it takes time and mutual trust and an effort on both sides, none of which happen here. the core conflict is duty to family in all its various forms vs the heart wants what the heart wants. the conflict is not much of a conflict, though, because characters come to realizations within three sentences of confronting them and then vocalize them with therapyspeak. someone literally pats someone else's hand and goes, "It's hard, I know." the author mercifully did not describe the sad little pursed sympathy mouth but i'm sure it was there.

i'm also deeply annoyed with how this author chose to go about characterization. while the character concepts are people i would love to meet in a ttrpg, it feels very concerned about Good Representation and it makes everyone feel very wooden. i think when you put together characters from a list of various oppressions and disabilities it starts feeling like a grownup version of a children’s ensemble show meant to sell little blind box figurines. here is the Chronically Ill one, and her color is pink! here is the Addicted one, and his color is green! here is the Goth and Depressed one, and her color is black with some bones! here is the Gay one who was once badly hurt by the Addicted one, and we don’t care enough about him to give him a color! here is the superficially fantasy-Jewish one, and we don’t care enough about her to give her a color or an action figure either!

while normally i would love to read a book with two! TWO! canonically bisexual leads of different genders! this book is written for the "folx" spectrum of gays instead of the "fags" part of the spectrum and it strays very close to a modern morality tale for me.

this popped up on a list of books with bi leads i think, but if it was here or on libby i cannot remember.

anyway! fucking hated this one.

pleasantly surprised these came in back to back off my holds lists, bc they are about the perfumer Grace and Grace's former landlord, the spy Marguerite. my favorite of these Saint of Steel series is still the one with the werebear nun. i have nothing to complain about these books and not much to say about them either. they were such a delightful and competent change of pace after the annoyance of the previously discussed book.

oh i loved these. oh i LOOOOOOVED these. how the fuck does novik do it. she is so good at capturing the very specific feel of a grandpa military historical novel. except with dragons. i love these in the same way i know i will love the patrick o'brien books if i ever get around to reading them. i was a navy brat and unfortunately this is fucking catnip to me. truly i have inherited all my father's tastes

-

watching

largely fallow week. i don't have anything particularly great to say about The Bad Batch, but when have i ever. have not caught up with dunmeishi bc my siblings have once again inadvertently locked me out of the netflix account i pay for. considering a vpn for many reasons but watching netflix and watching porn (the state of texas does not want me or anyone else to watch porn within her borders) are the two big reasons for. idk. cashing out the paltry cash-back credit card rewards and coughing them up for a vpn. vpn opinions welcomed, i know most of them are straight garbage

-

playing

i straight up ran out of money in genshin, which is pretty hard to do since they're pretty generous with it? i have spent several million in-game currency on leveling up neuvilette (i am so so so happy to not have to collect any fucking starfish mats for him anymore [mats are different materials you have to collect or buy in-game in order to level up a character. very grindy most of the time]). anyway i am now scrabbling around for the last couple chests and puzzles i marked on my map in fontaine. i haven't bothered with grinding for his specific boosting artifacts or leveling up his talents all the way yet but this is really not shabby. i have the bad habit of completely levelling up all my 5-stars and then ignoring them until i need them for a specific fight or a specific level of the monthly..battle royale puzzle? i don't really know how to describe the abyss. anyway when i do eventually need his pretty intense water AOE attacks i will frantically grind for his talent mats. right now we're grinding for other things thanks

this latest update contains both the best and worst new areas so far. the underwater lost city of Remuria is a fuckin banger. gorgeous. incredible puzzles. very fun music-based quest line with new abilities and giant whale. however, im kind of disappointed by the new coastline area in the map: there is pretty much nothing there. almost no interactable plants to harvest, very few enemies, almost no chests. i get that they are focusing their time and attention on the new underwater area everyone will be focusing on (killer, btw, super dense and great use of vertical space). very lore-heavy expansion, sort of what if atlantis was a bit roman-inspired and also. hold on. wait a second.

sorry this has just occurred to me at 10:21 PM on Monday night as im drafting this but oh my god are the fucking fontanians the Sea Peoples of the bronze age collapse. this is hysterically funny lore if true. im going to have to go back and reread a lot of the environmental storytelling notes but oh my GOD that's extremely funny if true. genshin has some of the most batshit lore of any game ive ever played and im so sad that so few game journos are focusing on it.

where was i. leveling up characters in legally-not-france who may or may not be descendants of the sea peoples. i often find myself leveling up characters in genshin not based on how useful they are to the party but by how fun the bosses i need to fight for their mats are? for example: neuvilette is a water-based AOE character with not a lot of on-field time. however this big electric seahorse, whose antlers i need to level him up, is really fun to fight and i can knock it out in about thirty seconds.

-

making

my sister's birthday is tomorrow! my birthday package to her was kind of heavy on stupid little trinkets and art books and not very much like. homemade? so i cranked out a little sampler. it's framed i promise i simply forgot to take a picture of it framed. about 3"x3", slightly adapted from a piece in Julie Jackson's Subversive Cross Stitch. i do think the F and C turned out way better (or at least the backstitching stands out way more) but hey. sometimes you need to hastily stitch a gift with the limited colors you have on hand

[txttletale]

bundletober: live. love. die. remember

hello and welcome to bundletober, where i look through TTRPGs i got in bundles like a year ago and see if they're good or not. i will be doing this with no rhyme or reason but i will be trying to do one a day. i'll note whether or not i've played the game in these reviews but more often than not i'll just be looking at the book and offering my first-level thoughts. if a structure or something develops over the month so be it but for now the plan is just to ramble about the game a bit and give an overall recommendation or lack thereof

first of all, the cover (by finbah neill) is really nice. a good cover, a smart choice of font, a couple of masking layers over it, can really go a long way.

the game is one of my favourite types of game -- a single, razor-sharp concept. this game is about one thing: mechs that have fallen in love with their pilots, reminiscing on the time they spent together. it is specifically about that and nothing in it can be separated from that.

i've talked quite a bit (including in the pages of my own game, most trusted advisors) about how i think the text of a game should act as a co-author, prompting you and providing bits of story you wouldn't have thought of otherwise--and as an alchemist, transmuting narrative or mechanical input from the players at the table into a narrative or narrative output for them to engage with. LLDR is much more of the former than the latter--there is no real alchemy going on here, it's very much a co-author, asking questions and inviting a simple pattern of call-and-response.

so what are its contributions in that capacity? LLDR wants to tell intimate stories, love stories--or rather, it wants you to tell them. the meat of the game is the thirty-item long list of prompts that ask you (playing the mech) to recount stories of times spent with your pilot. some of them are pretty standard as romantic prompts go, but some create a real sense of place and tragedy -- "When you couldn't save someone" and "When you helped them pick fruit" stand out for me as being deliciously emotive while being specific. this game is at its best when it is specific, when it seems like it has a specific vision (like a huge powerful war machine and its pilot picking fruit together) and is inviting you to share that vision with it, into its secret hidden places to feel private feelings with it.

the only real 'mechanic' other than these prompts -- the only thing that the game asks you to do other than tell short stories based on them--is "marking your chassis". the game asks you to use eyeliner or marker pen to track, on your body, how many scenes you've played out. i really like this--it definitely does something to set LLDR apart from other small prompt-based games like it. it's the closest thing to alchemy this game has, and it's an oddly physical and located thing for a TTRPG to ask of you. i really like it.

ultimately, this is a five-page RPG with sparse mechanics. that's not enough space to set the world on fire. i think it falters in a few places where there aren't quite enough distinct ideas to fill out every slot on a table that needs filling. but for what it is, the razor-sharp concept goes a long way towards justifying the spareseness and tonally i think it's melancholy and warm in a way that makes me excited to check out more of creator reizor's games.

live. love. die. remember can be purchased as a digital download from itch.io

[oumaheroes]

Would you write an america and england fluffy drabble?

If domestic counts as fluffy, I sure can indeed

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

Another Man's Trash

From his spot on the rafters, America watched England teeter up the ladder to the attic, a full mug in each hand, and took pleasure in offering him no assistance.

‘Took you long enough,’ he said when England was safely up and crouched under the oddly crooked roof supports. He took the mug England held out to him before it had the potential to become a weapon, ‘I thought you’d died down there.’

‘How kind of you to come and check on me.’

‘After what you’re making me do, you deserve it.’

‘’Making’ you do? I deserve death for asking for your help?’

‘Yes.’

‘Noted.’

England hunkered down a foot away and eyed the section of rafters, or lack of, which America was guarding. There wasn’t much natural light to see by. The attic spaces of England’s huge country manor were partitioned and sectioned off between the different wings, some used as servants’ rooms, others for proper storage. This particular section was one of the more abandoned, quickly and haphazardly boarded, and with were only two, small windows to fight against the dust flecked darkness. The hole which America was sat next to was lighthouse’d by a several flashlights, and he could see more by the light from the room below than he could from the small, round, single paned window above it.

England nodded at the room below, bones on the right side of his face sharp with yellow flashlight. ‘Shouldn’t be too long left.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me? There’s still a huge hole in the floor.’

‘Ceiling.’

‘Whatever.’

‘We’ve done most of it.’

‘Done? The whole thing needs replacing.’ America waved his arm wide, coffee still in hand, and England watched its trajectory with alarm. They’d cleared this area of the attic when they’d first started work, the ancient objects and historical junk which had previously occupied the space piled high or scattered about whatever space up here that remained, but hot coffee through the already abused boards probably wouldn’t end well. ‘This boarding is hundreds of years old, I’m surprised any of it is still weightbearing.’

‘It’s well made.’

‘It was well made, like a billion years ago.’

‘It’s not that old.’ England rolled his eyes at the look America gave him and took a sip of his tea, ‘The whole thing doesn’t need replacing, and the main beams are fine. That bit only rotted because of the leak in the roof.’

America opened his mouth and then closed it again, sensing that arguing this point wouldn’t actually get him out of the damn attic any faster and might, in fact, trap him into helping for a much longer project. It was bad enough that his quick summer stay to the UK had been consumed by this; if England accepted an additional idea that he proposed, there was no way to wiggle out of it peacefully. Instead, America glared up at the spot of roof they’d spent the better part of the last few days fixing and waterproofing.

‘You’re lucky I was visiting. If I hadn’t noticed the stain in the guest room ceiling you’d be fucked.’

‘Hardly.’

‘And you wouldn’t have been able to do this by yourself.’

England made a non-committal noise, ‘I would have been fine.’

‘Sure you would.’

‘I would have. It would have taken longer though, certainly. And I’d rather someone I trust than some random builder who has no idea how old this all is. Far too difficult to explain and it would have been an utter ball ache finding a specialist.’ England turned away, placing his mug down and busying himself with the stack of floorboards waiting patiently for them along one of the beams.

America smiled and shook his head. That was as close of an acknowledgement of thanks or gratitude as he was likely to get. Enough too that England considered him competent.

He tried his coffee, mournfully noting that England had reverted, likely out of habit, to making the instant stuff rather than the proper beans. Either that, or America had torn his way through the good coffee that England kept handy for what he called his ‘overly picky’ guests. ‘How old is this part anyway.’

‘This part of the house?’ England handed him a measuring tape and a board, the wood thick and heavy. They’d need to cut them to size, then add the insulation, then plaster the ceiling- actually no, fuck that. England could deal with the decoration himself, America had already splintered his hands tearing out all of the sodden stuff that was there before. ‘Not that old. I think I had this wing built not long after I found you. Maybe my first trip home afterwards.’

America let out a whistle, ‘Hate to break it to you, but that’s too old.’

‘It’s the youngest part of the house.’ England huffed, ‘I’ve been living here for about two thousand years in one way or another lad, a few hundred years is nothing in the grand scheme of things.’

‘I’m not gonna bother giving that a response.’

America peered down through the hole, cautiously perching on the edge of the rafters to see into the bedroom below. His room of all rooms; he’d had to relocate himself to Canada’s. He was sure his brother wouldn’t mind.

‘Mind yourself.’ England warning, hand twitching as if to grab him when America leant even further forwards, ‘We don’t need an A&E trip on top of everything else.’

‘I’m not gonna fall.’

England tutted and looked away, ‘And haven’t I heard that before.’

‘Stop moaning, you’ll go grey.’

‘You’ll make me go grey.’

‘You’d look more your age, at least.’

‘Piss off.’

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say to- oh.’

‘What?’

In the process of measuring the width of where the first board would go, America’s eye caught on something wedged in the insulation. It must have slipped between the older boards when they became warped by the water, or even lost between them years previously. It was deep in the insulation, not budging when America poked it experimentally with the tip of his finger. Shifting his weight, he reached out further across the hole to tug it free, ignoring England’s muttering to come around the other side and get it like a normal person and the hand he rested on America’s shoulder to steady him.

The object was small and wooden. It looked, of all things, like a thick stick, but as America worked it free it was revealed to be a very short, very crude spear. About half a foot long at most, it was roughly sharpened at both ends with a groove in the middle for a handle.

America turned it over, baffled, ‘What the hell is this?’

‘You tell me. You made it.’

America blinked, ‘Did I?’

‘Hmm.’ England wore a soft smile, ‘I left you alone with a penknife; either that or you took it without me noticing. You brought that to me and pronounced it as a “hunting weapon.”’

‘Huh.’ America rolled the stick in his palm and laughed, ‘You’re a sentimental bastard, you know that?’

‘Shut up.’ England coloured, ‘You would have been devastated if I threw it away.’

‘Uh huh. And that’s the only reason you kept it.’

‘Yes.’ England clicked his fingers and held out his hand, ‘Now give it here and let’s get on with it, it’ll be dinner soon and we need to order something early unless we want to eat at stupid o’clock tonight because by fuck am I cooking after all this.’

America grinned and settled himself more comfortable on his beam, long legs dangling down, ‘And what are you going to do with this very impressive hunting weapon?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Can I have it?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Alfred. Stop talking and give it here.’

America peered down once more, imagining the family room further along the warren of hallways of the manor, ‘Can I put it with Deidre downstairs?’

‘Christ- will you leave that bloody statue alone.’

‘I think Uncle Rhys did a very good job with her.’

‘I think Rhys needs therapy.’

‘Aw. Don’t be mean to her, she’s beautiful.’

‘It’s terrible.’

‘She’ll look good with something to hold. Will make that lump of hers on her chest look more like an arm than a third boob.’ America held the odd stick to his chest in imitation, ‘See?’

‘Fine.’ England threw his hands up and shifted backwards as if to prompt America to do the same. ‘Put it with the statue if you want but stop leaning so far over the edge.’

‘Stop being such a fanny fart, I’m holding the beam.’

‘Yes but that could crack.’

America held on with one hand and sat further forwards, grinning as England swatted at his knee, ‘I thought you said the main beams were fine and strong?’

‘With how your great lumpen weight is swinging from it anything coul-‘

England was interrupted by a sharp, distinct crack of old, dry wood. America froze. A fine sprinkling of dust showered down from the roof, settling onto his knees like snow. They watched each other wide eyed, waiting to see what would happen and America trying not to think about the very heavy slate of the roof not that far from his organs. When nothing immediately collapsed he sat up properly, letting go of the beam slowly as if afraid of spooking it. On the other side of the hole, England buried his head in his hands and groaned.

‘Why. Why.’

America laughed nervously and gently patted the beam. ‘I guess I’m buying dinner?’

England didn’t reply.

‘Cool... cool. Nice.’

[24mirrorshards]

so it's heavily implied that Harry isn't the only character with a skill set, and that there is at least some overlap between peoples' skill sets. I'm sure not everyones' is identical (why would non-cops have an Esprit de Corps?), but assuming most people have at least most of the same ones, I would guess that Cuno's main/signature skill is Pain Threshold.

He's quicker to open up to Harry if Harry punches him. When he talks about how shitty and short he expects his life will be, it's like he thinks it's funny and cool. One of Harry's skills (I think Empathy?) points out that Cuno has a soft spot for people he perceives as dangerous. This all seems pretty indicative of high Pain Threshold.

Cunoesse's is pretty obviously Half-Light; the near-complete lack of trust and knee-jerk escalation of literally everything and nothing is pretty telling.

Some other guesses at different characters' main skills under the cut, some with reasoning some without

Harry's own skills hint that Soona has high Interfacing and Trant has high Encyclopedia and there's nothing about them that suggests his skills were wrong about that, so I'm gonna go with those for those two

Kim: Composure. Kim is well-mannered but outwardly unemotional, and he hates the idea of looking foolish.

Cindy: Conceptualization - what else?

Klaasje: Either Drama or Suggestion, for obvious reasons

Evrart: Rhetoric or Suggestion

Liz and Joyce both probably have Logic as theirs, they both think information through in a clear manner

Pretty sure Tommy's is Inland Empire; he's all sensitive and imaginative but without the calculated quality that comes with skills like Conceptualization or Drama

Lena's is Empathy, without a doubt

Titus' is probably Authority, I can see the case for Half-Light with the intimidation tactics but he's too composed for that IMO. (Maybe his is actually the Union-guy version of Esprit?)

I REALLY wish we got to know the ravers better. Their quest was kind of long, but I feel like they had so little to say relative to the quest's length? They are some of my favorite NPCs regardless. If I had to guess their signature skills, I'd say Andre's is Savoir Faire (good dancer, sneaky with the whole meth lab thing), Egg Head's is probably either Shivers (shouts vague things that he's heard from others around town) or Electrochemistry ("party boy"), Noid's is probably either Inland Empire or Conceptualization, and Acele's could be Interfacing (would rather record than party, knowledgeable about recording equipment) or, oddly enough, Volition (least self-destructive of the bunch, perseveres despite a lack of optimism)

And yeah that's all I've got for now.

[criolla-star]

Overwhelmed (Vinny x Garmadon)part 40

(I suggest you check out parts 1-39 if you haven't already) (UIHDHJKSKJ PART 40 ALREADY!!!!!!!!!)

"I instructed you to go keep an eye on him...not to harm him again..." Rida spoke out, his voice sounded distorted and he was speaking fairly calm. "S-sorry..." Enji replied as he stood up straight, Rida looked down at Vinny who was on the floor slowly backing away from the two. The masked figure let out a sigh clearly noticing Vinnys' lack of sleep and puffy eyes from crying. "Don't do it again...unless I tell you..." Rida said as he looked back at Enji who nodded in response. Vinny looked up at Rida and holy shit was he tall he was like Garmadon, but just a bit shorter.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck...!" Vinny screamed internally as he brought his knees to his chest. "Enji give me the blade..." Rida instructed which the black haired menace obeyed instantly giving him the blade he was harming Vinny with. Rida took the blade and crouched down in front of the shaken cameraman who tried to squirm away. "I won't harm you..." The masked figure spoke, his voice was oddly calming yet....unnerving...

Vinny was still tense but stopped trying to get away, "What do you two want with me...?" he asked his voice breaking slightly as he held back tears, he's had so much things happen in the span of less than a week he was tired and sick of this. "Nothing too much....but...you won't be telling us anything about it anytime soon..." Rida replied calmly as he placed the blade down in front of Vinny, that was the first time he had a clear view of the blade, it was made with a black crystal which had black spots to it through it and the handle was wrapped in what looked like leather. "It's quite a beautiful dagger, isn't it?" Rida asked breaking the silence.

Vinny hesitantly nodded, he didn't like how friendly Rida was being, it was unnerving and gave Vinny mixed feelings about how to feel about the guy. "It's made out of red obsidian" The masked figure spoke out as he reached out for Vinnys' hand. The cameraman flinched away when Rida attempted to grab his hand which was wrapped in a bandage, it was weird enough he just met the guy but the bird mask was quite intimidating.

Rida could tell Vinny was nervous and let out a sigh before taking off the mask. Enji was right about him having his face covered in scars, his hair was dark grey though what caught Vinnys' attention the most was his eyes, he had dark orange eyes. "My mask does tend to intimidate people...though so does my appearance" Rida spoke out. The cameraman looked at him before looking at the bird mask, "W-what bird is that?" he asked curiously, "Ah, it's a phoenix" The orange eyed figure spoke.

Enji was looking down at the two annoyed at the interaction, but he trusted Rida. Rida signalled for Vinny to give him his hand, the cameraman hesitated for a moment before giving it to him. The orange eyed figure picked up the blade and Vinny instantly froze, he was scared to move his hand knowing very well the two of them could kill him. Rida then carefully cut off the bandages and inspected the wounds, The orange eyed figure signalled for Enji to come sit next to him, he was hesitant but sat down, this made Vinny jump slightly he was much more scared of Enji at the moment.

"Fear and pain....are both powerful things...." Rida spoke out as he began cleaning the wound on the cameramans' hand. Enji and Vinny looked at him paying close attention, "Us humans tend to...use it against others....everyone fears something...anyone who says they don't is a fool and liar..." He continued, Vinny was really curious, he knew there was some truth behind those words. "People use pain...to force people into obeying, otherwise.....they'll get hurt" Rida added before squeezing Vinnys' hand tightly as he said the last part, this hurt Vinny and caused him to attempt to jerk his hand away.

"Tell someone what you fear....and it will be used against you and you will become nothing but a weapon and object to them" the orange eye figure added as he grabbed Vinnys' hand and began wrapping it with bandages. "We all fear something...so tell me...what do you fear?" Rida asked as his eyes glowed slightly. Vinny was uneasy, he didn't to answer him but he felt like he had to. "I can tell you are uneasy, I'll go first then you" Rida spoke out, Vinny hesitantly nodded.

"I fear...the ocean, being forgotten and loud noises..." Rida spoke calmly before looking over to Enji who seemed very curious as to why Rida was saying all this, Vinny was really curious about all this, he expected her to have fears but he didn't expect him to tell him. "Your turn..." Rida said calmly to Vinny, "I-I fear being trapped, being...left alone, being useless, h-hurting the one I l-love...l-losing the ones I l-love..." Vinnys' voiced broke slightly as he began thinking about Garmadon and how much he upset him.

Rida looked at him then at Enji, "You can go now..." Rida whispered to Enji who listened happily and left instantly. "Now then...that fight you got into with him was quite upsetting?" The orange eyed figure asked as he gently lifted up Vinnys' chin. The cameraman nodded, "I-I didn't mean t-to upset him, Enji s-said I can't tell anyone!" Vinny said as tears welled in his eyes. Rida nodded, "No one ever means to hurt the ones they love....and certainly not you, right?" Rida asked, Vinny nodded.

"Good...avoid them all..." Rida simply said, "W-what?" Vinny replied not knowing what he meant, "You need some space to breathe and think you also need to get some sleep because running on two hours of sleep isn't easy is it?" Rida responded quickly, "I-I....guess you're r-right..." Vinny responded, "Say...you have to go for work then just do what you want for the day" Rida added earning another nod from Vinny, "You both need some space from each other" The orange eyed figure spoke.

"Y-yea...you're right..." The cameraman responded as he looked at the ground, "Now then...this is yours then..." Rida said as he put the dagger in Vinnys' hand and closed it. "I'll see you some other time..." Rida said as he put the phoenix mask back on, "O-ok..." Vinny responded, he didn't know why but he trusted Rida so much he was much more tame and sane than Enji, why was Enji so obedient to him then. Rida nodded before standing up and disappeared into thin air.

Vinny looked at the blade and clenched it tightly, "O-okay...I do need some space from him...I'm just tired...never meant to upset him..." Vinny said to himself as he began thinking about Garmadon.

(SAHJSHJHJHSH YESSSSSHH ENJI WAS LESS OF A DICKHEAD IN THIS CHAPTER AND NOW WE HAVE RIDA)