#sure they were hellish days and i hated being at my job and it drained the life out of me but

[toshidou]

the desire to write vs my new work schedule that means i'm fucking exhausted by the time i've done everything i need to do to prepare for the next day

[hyperions-strap]

Jack VS His Chair.

Summary: Jack is 6 months pregnant, and it seems his office just isn't suitable for him anymore. His luxurious chair doesn't give him the support his aching sore back needs.

💝 Link for AO3 💝

Note: Feel free to send me other prompts for omega!Jack here on Tumblr!

Jack isn’t known for his patience on the best of days, but when carrying around a 3 pound developing baby (give or take) on his hips, influencing his mood and needs 24/7, it’s safe to say his patience is nonexistent. He can still do his job perfectly well, but there’s just more obstacles now. More nuisances that catch his attention, distract his focus, and cause him to act out. 

Meetings are slow today, which should be a good thing, but all it means is Jack gets to spend more time sitting behind his desk, filtering between finance reports, and marketing contracts, and submissions for new weapons that can utilize the latest strain of Slag to its best ability. On most days that’s not too bad - a little boring, but all in all, harmless - but since entering his third trimester, he hates sitting at his desk. 

Jack generally can’t sit anywhere for too long, less he faces the wrath of his backache getting unbearable. Sometimes the agony moves through his bones and cramps his limbs, or his chest, or his neck. It’s like his back commands the troops to torture his muscles. In most cases the only cure is a back massage, courtesy of his lover's fingers, but that's not an option currently. Rhys is at Atlas for a few hours, busy schmoozing some benefactors willing to fund his latest string of cryo sniper rifles. This means Jack has to begrudgingly power through the pain. 

3 more months, give or take. That's how long he has left of suffering before the demon spawn draining his life will be in his arms. In theory, 3 months isn't a very long amount of time, but time moves so painstakingly slow when pregnant. He tries to remind himself the reward at the end is worth the pain, but then one of his hellish symptoms kicks in with a wrath. 

His keyboard rattles as he types feverishly, until a strong, searing pain shoots up his spine. He sucks in sharply and holds his breath, freezing. The pain burns at his vertebrae, almost like it's being squeezed by hands caught on fire, determined to make his bones crack. He exhales heavily and leans back in his lavish office chair. He rests a hand on top of his round belly.

"Give daddy a break, will you, princess?" He tries to bargain with his unborn child, but there's no change in his state. The pain doesn't subside, and neither does his irritation. He rubs down his belly, sighing, looking down at his bloated midsection in disappointment. "You know your life is in my hands, right? You really shouldn't be pissing me off."

Silence.

Not that he'd expected a verbal response. He groans under his breath, hiking himself up and leaning over the desk. He pushes a button on his phone and waits patiently, drumming his fingers on his desk.

"This is Rhys Strongfork, CEO of Atlas corporation, how can I help you?"

He sounds so self righteous and smug, Jack can't help but snicker. "Hay, kitten, how's my favourite rival doing?" He leans back in his seat again. He places a hand on the small of his back and pushes his palm deep into his flesh, hoping to subside the pain. It's miniscule, may as well be nothing.

He hears a light cluttering as Rhys fusses over nick-nacks on his desk. "I should be the one checking in on you. How's our little girl?"

Jack rolls his eyes and sighs. "She's fine. I'm peachy too, thanks for asking."

"I was about to ask how you were too, don't get jealous."

Jack hates the smug, amused tone in his voice. "You could at least ask about me first, since I'm the one lugging around the brat." He rubs the underside of his belly. As usual, a strip of skin peaks free from the confines of his stretched sweater. Rhys has bought him a plethora of clothes to fit his ever growing form, but Jack still insists on wearing his faithful Hyperion sweater. The material is beyond stretched out now, it's working tirelessly to keep him modest, but it can't work miracles. A 6 month pregnant omega bump is too powerful for its cotton.

He hears further rustling on Rhys' end of the phone. He digs the heel of his palm into the side of his belly and holds his breath. A dull pain ricochets from his back round to his abdomen. He manages to distribute the pain and ease the intensity, but little can be done about his back.

"You know I've got baby brain, Jack. Nothing but babies - baby, baby, baby-- it's a curse!"

"Yeah, well you better force me back to front and center. I'm the one doing the hard work, not her."

Rhys laughs softly. "How are you, Jack?" He asks sincerely, though amused. Jack is happy to know no matter what, he's still the one happily in charge of their relationship. Though social standards try to determine the alpha is in charge, especially when their omega is pregnant preparing to deliver, Jack and Rhys don't at all abide by those rules. They never have, and Jack most certainly never will. If Rhys were like other alphas, hot headed and stubborn, determined to dominate him like a foolish brute, Jack would have never agreed to having his baby. He'd been strict about the dynamics of their relationship, and determined to make sure his status as an omega was respected. Jack didn't have shame in his title - in fact, he wore it with pride.

He absentmindedly rubs his belly and exhales as the pain in his back momentarily subsides. "I'm alright, pumpkin. Craving something greasy."

"You sound wound up."

Jack snickers. "Do I? Probably being surrounded by knuckleheads." He laughs again, but the movement makes his back seizes up again, making him yelp embarrassingly. He clutches at the point of pain, and grinds his teeth as it shoots up through his spine like electricity following a circuit. He curses under his breath when he hears Rhys' distressed worries calling for him over the line. "Still here, don't worry."

"Are you okay?! What was that noise?!"

"That noise was me!" With great difficulty, Jack pushes himself out of his luxurious golden chair, arching his back and pushing into the point of discomfort with both his hands before taking one away to cup the base of his belly. Moving is starting to become more difficult by himself, much to his displeasure. Some days he needs Rhys to physically hoist him out of bed. He glares at his chair and begins walking around his desk in circles. "I'm fine though, don't fret."

"Jack, you're 6 months pregnant. All I do is worry." Rhys is moving around more now, changing scenes by the sounds of things as wind brushes by and external chatter fills the void. "I'm coming to see you."

"What?! Oh geez, that's not necessary--"

"When you're carrying around our baby, it's always necessary."

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. He hates being fussed over, and that's all that happens these days. "No, really, it's not! It's just my damn back playing up!" He hears what he assumes to be Rhys stopping in his tracks. "The baby is fine and dandy though, kicking my bladder and making me the size of a whale. It's the office chair, makes me feel like someones ripping out my spine. I should start bringing a pillow from home."

"Why not buy a more comfortable chair? Don't they sell maternity chairs for working omegas?" Rhys' question is innocent enough, but it makes Jack irritated nevertheless. It's like admitting he's weak, that the chair has bested him. He doesn't realise he's growling until Rhys starts laughing. "It's probably more comfortable than the one you have anyway. Remember when we tried to have sex in it after the office party last year? I almost broke my leg."

Jack chuckles. "That's because you're too freakin' long! Those string beans you call legs weren't made for tight spaces." Jack looks down at the sphere supporting his hips, kneading his brows as he thinks. "Those omega special chairs are a scam though, it's to make possessive alphas like you spend your hard earned money and stroke your ego!"

"The reviews look pretty good to me."

"I don't give a rat's ass what the reviews are like." Jack yells back. He moves to sit back at his desk, but as if the cushions are made of spikes, he immediately yells out in pain and grips the wood of the desk for dear life. He curses so loud an echo reverberates around the office. He tries to power through, scooting forward, only to bump his belly off the desk edge and hurt himself that way. "Jesus fucking Christ, I'm going to airlock whoever made this desk just for inconveniencing me!"

Suddenly there's a knock at his office door. He frowns, looking at it before pressing a button to open the door. Rhys walks in with a smug smile, hanging up the comm he had with Jack. 

"What, how did--"

"I took a fast travel. Come on, I'm taking you chair shopping."

Jack grumbles in annoyance, but after a tender back massage and belly rub, he gives in with little fight.

[howlingmedic]

Coming Home: Chapter 5

Coming Home: 

Previous | Next

Synopsis: what happens when the person who finally made their world make sense is taken from them? What happens when the people who were supposed find her can’t?

Relationship: Stucky x Angel!OFC

Warnings: angst, references to religion, references to torture, references to wounds, poorly explained technology, probably incorrect science, shifting POV because I’m the worst, my shit writing

A/N: This chapter is two parts. One part is like normal. The other is actually something I wrote a while ago in 1st person from Allie’s POV, and is what inspired this whole story. I tried to change it to 3rd person, and I hated it like that, so I switched it back and left it as is. It also used to be a standalone chapter, but I decided both chapters were too short, so now they’re one weird chapter. 

Chapter Five: How they Got Here

“We gonna talk about it?” Bucky asked as they walked to the bikes they had acquired through their travels. Steve smirked. “Talk about what? It was just decorative,” he answered coyly despite knowing full well what Bucky wanted to talk about. The questioning looks had been impossible to miss while they got dressed. Honestly, Steve was surprised Bucky had held his tongue this long. “Steven Grant Rogers, you did not make a design alteration to your uniform based solely on aesthetics after a day like today, now spill,” Bucky huffed as he dumped his essentials in the saddle pocket. “I don’t want to serve the public anymore, at least not today. This is about us. The star… it didn’t seem right, not while I’m being selfish, so I took it off. Now, Let’s get our asses in gear. Jet should be touching down in an hour.” That firmly ended the discussion. It was that simple; Steve’s tone made that part clear, and his expression made it clear they could talk later when all three of them could be involved. Bucky shrugged and swung his leg over the bike. Steve decided in that moment that if they made it out of this, he was buying that man a motorcycle.

Five hours had elapsed since Tony’s phone call. Fury had called and informed them he had returned their status to active duty - Steve only slightly cringed at the comment - and that this was now an official mission. All requisite communication devices and extra weapons would be waiting for them on the jet. They also had been granted the full force of the Avengers - minus Banner, who would be standing by with Loki, Cho, Strange, and an entire med team on a separate jet. They were to meet the team just outside the tiny town they had been using as a base of operations in the southernmost part of Spain. They would then fly to Chad, which was where the heat signature had been. The rest was a rescue mission just like any other, except it wasn’t at all.

The tone on the jet was tense, and the air was electric. Nobody dared to speak a word for the first 10 minutes. Natasha gave Bucky a gentle squeeze on the upper arm, Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder and gave him a firm nod, and Sam gave them both one-armed hugs. Even during those silent exchanges, you could hear a pin drop. Once the jet had reached their cruising altitude, Natasha cleared her throat and stood. “Look, none of us like this situation. We all take this one personally because it is, but we’ve got a job to do. Everyone should have the plan shared to their tablets, I’ll pull it up on the big screen, and we can go over it one more time, but I think we’ve all committed it to memory by now.”

Steve lost track of what she said after that. He knew his part. It was the same as any other mission: use his shield, knock out or kill the bad guys, and don’t die. This time it just had the added task of rescuing the woman he loved. At some point, he stole a look at Bucky, who seemed equally zoned out. Everyone else’s faces were focused intently on their tablets. Natasha caught their gaze and gave them a weak smile; she always had a way of knowing. Once she finished talking, the jet fell silent again. Everyone seemed to be absorbing the gravity of the situation. Steve’s eyes remained fixed on the glowing blue form on the screen that had 45 Amps next to it. He wished they could pull the scan down, that he could forget that reading was far too low. Tony had told them it was one-tenth of what it usually was 6 hours ago. It was another hour of flying to Chad. Steve wasn’t sure if it had changed since Tony had first told them it was low. Nobody had commented on it, so he had to assume everything was staying stable, but somehow having a number tied to Tony’s comments made them more concrete.

Every once in awhile, he saw the form move. The first time it had given him hope. It had proved she was alive. After a little while, he couldn’t help himself, he studied every movement. Sometimes, it was just a shift. Like she was trying to get more comfortable. Others, he saw her jerk, and the number would drop. 45 down to 42, then it recovered to 44. 44 dropped to 39. Steve froze. Bucky looked up and sighed at the screen. Steve wasn’t sure if the sigh was from something Bucky was contending with internally or a reaction to the changing energy measurements. Steve quickly decided he couldn’t care right now, and his attention returned fully to the screen. When the number rose back to 42, Steve decided he preferred things when it stayed in the 40s.

Some of the panic seeped from his mind when the numbers on the screen stopped changing, and the eerily incandescent blob that represented Allie seemed to calm on the sceen. Steve glanced over at Bucky, and smiled softly at what he saw. Bucky’s eyes had fallen closed, but his breathing hadn’t steadied like he was sleeping. If Steve strained, he could hear him whispering. “C’mon, doll, just hang in there. We’re coming.” Then Steve’s eyes flicked back up to the screen eager to see if he might be able to watch Allie react. At first Steve’s heart soared: the number rose slightly to 43. Then, the world froze while the figure on the screen thrashed harder than Steve had seen yet before going inhumanly still. “Bucky! Stop!” Everyone’s eyes went wide, and they stared at Steve, who just gaped and stared at the screen: 43, 39, 35, 20, before coming to a halt at 17. “Fuck, Clint, fly faster!” Steve cried, his voice high and desperate.

The number on the screen didn’t look like it was going anywhere, which wasn’t the best outcome, but it was better than free falling. Bucky sagged in his seat, and Steve blew out a hard breath before he could focus on him. “I know what you were trying to do, babe,” Steve said under his breath so only Bucky could hear him.

“Doesn’t matter what I was tryin’ to do, Steve. Matters that I mighta almost fuckin’ killed her.”

“You had no way of knowing that would happen, so don’t you dare get all hard on yourself now. We don’t have time for that shit right now. We just gotta get in there, get her, get out. We’ve got at most three hours till she’s in the hands of the most capable people in the cosmos and back in our arms. She’s strong. She’ll pull through, pal,” Steve promised and hoped to anyone who was listening that it sounded more confident than he felt.

“Alright, alright, quit bein’ sappy before we go to work,” Bucky snarked. Steve knew it was nothing more than a brave face, but he knew better than to argue right now. Instead, he turned his attention back to the screen. 20 Amps. How many did she need to live?

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I wasn’t supposed to be laying in a cell, filthy and chained up. I certainly wasn’t supposed to be drained of all my grace to the point where I couldn’t even hide my wings in a pocket dimension anymore. No, it wasn’t supposed to have gone like this at all.

I wasn’t even sure how long I had been gone. Over two weeks, but beyond that, I had no idea. Three weeks? Months? I was reasonably confident it hadn’t reached the point of being missing for years, but it was possible. Without knowing how long I had been unconscious, I couldn’t be sure of anything. Hell, maybe I was dead and in an angel’s version of Hell. Reports of The Empty were sketchy at best, so it was all theoretically possible at this point.

There was a whisper of Bucky’s voice in my head again. It was just barely audible, but he was begging me to hold on, promising me he was going to bring me home. I twisted and writhed against the chains again, felt the edges of the cuffs dig deep into the cuts on my wrists, ankles, and the joints of my wings. I screamed again, and my voice came out raw and broken, and the scream left me coughing and gagging with no moisture left to soothe my irritated throat. To spare what little grace I had left and try to heal it was to risk dying  - actually dying… or dying in whatever hellish delusion I was stuck in.

“How the fuck had it gone this wrong? How the fuck did they overpower us, and how did they know about angel cuffs? We had destroyed them all, destroyed any trace of them, and yet here they were,” My brain cycled through the usual questions that consumed my thoughts when I was coherent. Bucky’s voice crying, pleading with me not to let go, cut through the drone of my reflection once more. I ripped against the chains harder in hopes that maybe this time I could break them. I felt my shoulder pop out of its socket, and I tried to scream again, but no sound would come out. I had lost my last asset, my one way to punish my captors. At least my screams made me a nuisance, it made me unpleasant to be around, but now I had nothing. No way to resist them, no way to fight back.

And as if being trapped here wasn’t enough of a punishment, my own brain had finally turned against me. I was hearing my lovers’ voices calling out to me when I knew the cuffs binding me would block any prayers. The only conclusion I could come to as I slipped unconscious again and relived the moments that landed me here one more time was that I had to have lost my mind and begun hallucinating.

It started like any other day of clearing out some cell trying to carry out Thanos’ mission - there had been a surprising number since his defeat and the reversal of the snap. Identify, negotiate, fail to reach an agreement, arrest, clear the base, and destroy it while agents interrogate each member of the cell.

That’s where it had gone wrong. There had been more of them - enhanced members - hiding in a room below the floorboards, and they had ambushed us. Someone strong, stronger than any natural human, had clamped the cuffs tights over my wrists. The sudden lack of grace flowing through me had dropped me to my knees with a shriek, but the others couldn’t come back. They were evenly matched with their combatants. This crew had studied each of us meticulously. They knew what they were up against, and they knew the best way to get to three of the best hand to hand fighters in the world was to take one of them out of the equation and use that to distract the other two. I happened to be the one with a kryptonite.

Whatever had happened next was a mystery. I had come-to in a damp, windowless, and quite possibly subterranean cell somewhere in the Saharan Desert. Food had been chucked my direction once every so often. If it was daily, I had spent at least 14 days stuck in this hell hole hoping someone could find me, and that hope was the last thing I had binding me to any semblance of sanity, but that seemed to have slipped away.

Footsteps. That was the first thought I could form when I came to again. They were drawing closer, and I muffled a scream as I pulled myself into a ball. Maybe if I pretended to still be unconscious they would spare me for a day.

[incorrectjiiquotes]

Fast Food Blues

AO3 Link: (In the replies, since Tumblr hates links)

This is the first in the line of incorrect quote fics. I hope you enjoy it!

Nesenir had suffered through thousands of ignominies in the past few months. His greatest power source was stolen right from under him. He had to deal with a petty thief as an ally. And worst of all he had to actually do physical work rather than just being a manipulator in the shadows. But this. This had to be the worst one of them all. He was working at a fast-food restaurant with one of his worst enemies as his co-worker and sole companion through the horrible journey that was working this hellish job.

The road that led him to this was a short one. He had run out of money. This occurred a long time ago, when he found out that he could easily just scare whoever he wanted into giving him whatever he wanted. But with his powers drained he could barely scare a mouse much less a well-seasoned shopkeeper. He knew he had to do something about this tragic situation when he had to wear the same outfit twice. It truly was the worst days of his life.

He stood at the cash register staring emptily at the store front. There weren’t many customers at this time, so it was just him, his thoughts, and the mindless pop music that corporate demanded they play at all times. At least he wished that was all it was. “Sure, is slow right now isn’t it?” Figment, the dragon who shouldered at least the third of the blame for Nesenir’s situation, asked him.

“It sure is” Nesenir didn’t really want to start a conversation with him right now. He couldn’t even understand why Figment was working here. There wasn’t a single good reason that Figment had to be here. First off, he knew Figment wasn’t in the same desperate money situation that he was in. Plus, Figment was only 8 months old, this had to be a violation of some child labor law. Their manager probably knew about this, but they just didn’t care.

“Did you know that the solar system has 8 planets, and 5 dwarf planets.” Figment said. “Dreamfinder told me that when he was teaching me all about astronomy.”

“That’s interesting.” Nesenir responded. He wanted Figment gone, but he didn’t know how to get rid of him. In the old days of a few months ago, he could have just grabbed Figment teleported him far away and teleported back in only a couple seconds. But now he had to think about some way to get rid of Figment that didn’t involve the use of cool powers. The mention of Dreamfinder did give him an idea though. “Does Dreamfinder and Dr. Channing know that you’re here?”

“Yeah they know I’m here. Dreamfinder said that working would give me good life experience, and Doc said that I could learn some responsibility.” Figment said.

Nesenir internally groaned. Of course, they were fine with Figment working in a fast-food restaurant. Of course, they were. Honestly, there were times where he questioned if they even knew how to care for a kid, especially a dragon kid. “Why are you working here? I just can’t understand it.”

“I was watching SpongeBob and thought that working at a fast-food restaurant would be fun! :D” Figment said.

That was the dumbest reason Nesenir had ever heard anyone say they got a job for. He thought it looked fun on SpongeBob. Of course, working at a fast-food restaurant looked fun on SpongeBob, everything looks fun on SpongeBob. They could make watching paint dry fun on SpongeBob. Also did he really just say “:D” out loud? The endless parade of inanity was continuing. “So, you don’t have to work here if you don’t want to?”

“Right you are!” Figment enthusiastically said.

“So, you choose to work here? Why not leave and go do something else with your time like paint a flower or sing a stupid song?” Nesenir asked.

“Because I want to work here. After all what could be better than serving up smiles?” Figment said.

Nesenir took in a deep breath. Joining a job because you like a cartoon is one thing, but continually quoting it is another. At least he wasn’t singing the Krusty Krab Pizza song or the theme song. This was the only situation that Nesenir would ever respond to Figment’s antics, but only because it perfectly encapsulated how he felt. “Being dead or anything else.”

Figment beamed at the fact that Nesenir had actually quoted SpongeBob. Nesenir did not want this moment to be happening. He wanted anything to save him from this horrible nightmare that he was now living. Fortunately, the bell above the entrance rang. Thank goodness a customer had arrived. He could now have at least a moment’s reprieve from Figment’s nonsense. “Good afternoon, welcome to…” Nesenir stopped in his tracks when he saw who it was. “No… no… not you”

Before him stood a black and white cat wearing a little red bowtie with a mischievous smile on his face. Of all the people that could have come while Nesenir was working, this cat was the one he wanted to see the least. “Nouilles!” Figment exclaimed. Well at least he was happy to see Nouilles.

“Why are you here, Nouilles?” Nesenir asked.

“I just wanted to see how my friend was faring at his new job. Is that so bad?” Nouilles asked.

“Awww, that’s so nice of you!” Figment said.

Nouilles was barely tolerable at the best of times, but this certainly was the worst of times. Him invading Nesenir’s work life was the greatest crime that Nouilles had committed. But what should he have expected from a being who’s entire purpose is to be annoying as he possibly could? “No, no that’s not nice of him. That’s not even why he’s here.”

“Well, then why’s he here?” Figment asked.

“He’s here to mock me.” Nesenir said.

Nouilles put his paw up to his chest. “You think that I’m here to insult you? That’s so rude. All I want to do is help.”

He really was pulling out all the stops to be annoying. And now he’s claiming to be helping. Just like him. When Nesenir asked for tips on how to pick-pocket and be a cat burglar in general he wasn’t any help. In fact, because of his lack of help Nesenir was now stuck working at this stupid job. “How in the Realms are you helping?”

“I’m just offering some moral support” Nouilles said.

“C’mon Nez don’t be so mean. He just wants to help you.” Figment said.

“No, don’t fall for his stupid innocent act. I know this cat. He acts all innocent when really he’s the most guilty person in the room.” Nesenir said. “Also don’t call me Nez.”

“It would be better if you had more faith in me…” Nouilles looked at Nesenir’s name tag, and a smirk grew on his face. If that cat was about to say what Nesenir thinks he said he had another thing coming. “Lechacim.”

That’s it. Nesenir could not handle this cat’s antics anymore. “I just remembered that it was corporate policy to not allow animals in the dining area.” He grabbed the spray bottle filled with water under the counter. “So, get out.”

He began to spray it at Nouilles. Nouilles sprinted around trying desperately to avoid the streams of water. He jumped up on a nearby table, arched his back and puffed up as much as he could “Hiss”

“Don’t hiss at me you overgrown furball. Get out of here.” Nesenir was still firing the spray bottle rapid fire. Figment practically teleported in front of the spray bottle’s stream.

“Nez! Don’t be mean to him! Let him stay.” Figment had gone to Nouilles’s side. He looked up at Nesenir and began to do the dreaded puppy dog eyes.

Even if Nesenir hated Figment’s guts he could not say no to him when he did the puppy dog eyes. In fact, there was likely no one in the universe who could say no to Figment’s puppy dog eyes. Figment had managed to successfully weaponize cuteness and Nesenir resented him for that. “Fine. I guess he can stay.” Nesenir dejectedly said.    

“Yay!” Figment exclaimed. And with that Nesenir could tell that this was going to be a very very long shift.

[luci-cunt]

Hi, welcome to my open worm can, here’s me not being able to shut up Cureless and Cynical version @sargent-major-jane​ whyyyyyyy do youuuu doooo thiisss too meee aksdjfl;askdj XDD <33

Ok so first of all, here’s the cast: Izyc, a demon; Walter, a vampire; Lou a werewolf 6 year old

The story starts out with Walter summoning a demon (who happens to be Izyc) because he wants to bring his friend (Caine) back from the dead. Walt’s at this point basically a dumbass rich fratboy and him and Caine had this pretty not great friendship that was super co-dependant and toxic because Caine is not a good person. Anyways, Caine ends up dying, but the circumstances seem fishy because no one will talk to Walter about it so he gets the fantastic idea to bring Caine back from the dead. 

Izyc’s a little ass tho and he’s like “how do you want him?” and so Walter orders one supersized friend resurrection. 

“Alright,” Izyc said, cracking his knuckles and standing up, “which one is he?”

Walter pointed to Caine’s grave and Izyc walked over to stand in front of it. He scanned the grave stone, it was made of lacquered wood, with Caine’s name burned into it. “A wonderful son and friend with an honest soul, he will be missed.”

“Must be nice to have one of these,” Izyc remarked, more joking than wistful, “I think my parents buried me in a Payless box in the backyard.”

“Sorry,” Walter said, not sure what to say. 

Izyc just shrugged, “them’s the apples,” he said, which didn’t make sense to Walter but Izyc was moving on.

There’s just one problem with this whole thing, and that’s the fact that Caine does NOT want to be alive. The reason no one told Walter about Caine’s death in detail was because Caine killed himself, and now he’s back as a nearly unkillable monster. 

So Caine mauls the hell out of Walter’s arm and turns HIM into a vampire. 

Some details about vampires in this world: they’re nearly unkillable. The only thing that can kill them is another vampire. The sunlight thing is a myth, Walt is allergic to garlic tho. Also he’s got fangs, and has better senses. Oh and there’s a wrinkle: the vampiric disease can be transfered thru bodily fluids--I promise this will be important later XDD

Anywhoo--Walt’s a vampire now and he’s grouchy and grumpy about it. he goes all emo and the story flashes forward 7ish years to him sulking in a bar even though he can’t get drunk he just LiKeS tHe BuRn. 

this is where we find out Izyc has stuck around, and that him and Walter hunt monsters. Also that Izyc really likes his pair of jeans. 

Izyc cried out as he hit the ground, scrambling to hold onto something as the gnome dragged him down into the tunnels. His arms hit the sides of the tunnel and stopped him and he cursed. 

Walter was on him in a second, grabbing him by the coat as Izyc held onto his arms and pulled against the gnome. 

“Fucking– catch– fire!” Walter yelled, straining to pull Izyc out of the hole. 

“I like these jeans!” Izyc yelled back, “Ow! Shit!” he yelped, probably as the thing’s claws started digging in. 

Oh also: since Izyc is a demon he’s got some magic powers, most namely: the ability to set himself on fire, the ability to conjure anything in the world as long as he makes a deal, and an immunity to vampire sicknesss. 

Also also: these are gnomes in this universe (description courtesy of Izyc’s bestiology)

Surprisingly large, looks a bit like if a mole and a man decided to shit on god’s face by fucking. Claws for hands and pointy faces with milky eyes covered by big, bushy eyebrows. Does not wear clothing, which is a sight, and known for dragging unsuspecting women into their dens during mating seasons. The species is exclusively male and very reclusive/ meek. Will not inhabit anywhere within a mile of another gnome.

So.... moving on.... Izyc and Walt have an odd relationship, they travel around the US living out of hotels (specifically one that’s run by a man eating ghoul named Klancy who may or may not be 100 years old). 

Some details to know about demons: most of them were desperate people who sold their souls to other demons for something in their life. Then when they die they get stuck in this limbo and are basically hellish office workers. People can summon Izyc, but the only ritual most know just pokes at him and he can ignore it. It’s actually how him and Walt get jobs, someone summon’s Izyc and gives him details and then Walt and him zip on over. 

So Izyc’s got nothing better to do and Walt was his first ever deal so sue him, he’s lonely, he just kinda sticks with Walt. After a couple of years tho they start fucking, and both claim it’s for convenience sake--mostly Walt tho, cuz he can’t have sex with anyone who isn’t a vampire unless he wants to make them a vampire and -- yeah anyways.

Izyc catches feelings though, and he tries to pipe up about it, but then Lou crashes into the story. 

Some details to know about werewolves: they don’t only transform under the full moon, but that is a sacred time for them. They’re very ostracized by the world, forced to live in tiny communities and keep to themselves because they’re “dangerous.” 

One day, a vampire comes through and murders Lou’s entire pack

and the two other packs living in the town with them. 

Lou is the only survivor, and she’s friends with a woman named Luca who mentions a bitchy-but-nice vampire named Walter. 

And so Lou’s grieving 6 y/o brain goes “only a vampire can kill another vampire, this is perfect” and tracks Walt down and twists his heart strings until he agrees to at least check the scene out. 

Details about Luca: she’s Walter’s ex-boyfriend’s step-sister and she’s also half banshee. She’s also also one of Walter’s only friends. 

Some details about banshee’s: contrary to popular belief they aren’t omens of death, rather just really fucked up people. They’re usually the product of a hateful birth and feel emotion so strongly they’ll only be able to feel one single emotion in their lives. Usually people’s first emotions when their born is fear, and thus--screaming banshee’s. However, if you’re only part banshee you feel other emotions but they’re still super strong, so Luca’s basically cracked out bipolar. She takes meds that help but if she doesn’t take them it gets BAD.

Anyways, Walter goes to the crime scene, it goes a little like this: 

It started as splatters, dried and dirty looking on the ground. Then it got thicker, darker, and more concentrated. The walls of surrounding buildings were painted with it, and the street looked like it had been bathed in it. At the end of the street, however, was a schoolhouse, which seemed to be the source of all of it. 

Walter’s shiver had nothing to do with the cold. 

“Hey!” a voice called suddenly, stirring Walter out of where he’d been standing, staring at the school. It wasn’t very large, just a long, single story building that had a lot of windows and big doors. Above them were rusting metal letters spelling ‘SMITH CREEK ELEMENTARY.’ Most of the windows were broken and the doors had been torn off their hinges. The lawn in front of the school – which had probably been grass before – was now torn up and muddied from countless claws scrambling and tearing it up. 

“Hey!” The voice called again, this time closer, “you can’t be here.”

Walter turned to find a man walking up to him. He was wearing an officer’s uniform and his face was scrunched up in annoyance behind a big paper mask that covered his mouth and nose. Walter could smell lavender on it. The officer was also quite a bit shorter than Walter, and he had blond hair and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Walter. 

“I’m on business,” Walter said, “a consultant,” he lied. 

The officer gave him a shrewd look, “we didn’t hear anything about you coming up,” he said. 

Walter sighed, “it’s not my fault your department is useless.” The man’s face twitched. “I’m going back to work now, unless you want me to bother my superior and admit you messed up,” Walter said, brushing past the bristling man. 

“What kind of consultant are you supposed to be?” he asked, jogging a bit to catch up to Walter as he picked his way up to the school. There was a shallow set of stairs leading to the doors. The stairs were dark with blood and Walter almost expected them to be tacky. It had been days though, and they were dried by now. 

“Vampiric expert,” Walter said. 

“What are your credentials?” 

Walter turned and flashed his fangs. All the blood drained from the mans face and he took a few quick steps back. Walter didn’t stop walking, just tore through the caution tape blocking the doorway and went inside.

We find out later on that this is actually Caine’s doing, and Caine goes on a bit of the murder spree, which is what the book devolves into. Before it was some cases, a bunch of undocumented kishi (people with hyena faces on the backs of their heads) run into a wyvern problem that turns into a monster smuggling scandal. Izyc pisses off pirates which results in them kidnapping him to try and make Walt murder a bunch of mermaids, which just leads to the mermaids and Walt eating all the pirates. They meet another vampire named Marissa who happens to also be a warlock and zips them into a pocket dimension that’s like a 1950′s nuclear family where Izyc goes crazy, manages to escape, and then has to get into Walt’s pocket dimension and kill his alternate self.

yknow, the usual. 

This is so fucking long I’m so sorry if you managed to get all the way down here I owe you my whole soul aksjdf;lakjsdf;lkajsdf here’s some snippets: 

[danfanciesphil]

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Chapter Four

The night passes the same way - barely concealed crying, slightly ominous but mostly lovely music to drift him off to sleep - and then morning comes, stark and bright as usual. Dan gets dressed, begs Louise for coffee and sustenance - “did you find him?” “yes” “were you nice?” “I was a peach” “what did he say?” “he said he was sorry for yelling” “aw, told you he was a sweetie deep down” “mmhmm” - and is then rounded up by Mona for breakfast duty.

“I’ve already switched the heaters on and put out the tablecloths,” Mona tells him as he drains the last of his coffee. “Could you just go and put the mugs and cutlery out? I think we’ve only got two tables today.”

“Sure,” Dan says, giving Louise’s arm a small squeeze of gratitude for the breakfast and coffee; she waves a batter-y whisk at him in a shooing motion, but she’s smiling. .

Once he’s armed with a basket of silverware and crockery from the cupboard, Dan heads for the balcony and stops short, noticing that for the first time, someone is already sat out there. Stunned, Dan just stares through the glass at Mr Novokoric, who is transfixed on the blue-shadowed mountains in the distance. Reluctantly, Dan pushes through the doors, bracing himself for the cold, both from the frigid mountain air, and the attitude of his least favourite guest.

The door slams shut behind him, making Mr Novokoric turn. “Good morning,” he says, like an automatic greeting. For some reason - probably the cold and the pre-caffeine kick-in - Dan finds himself a little tongue-tied. He nods at the other man, struggling to hold onto the basket in his hands.

“Morning,” he manages, eyes sticking to the light wind-stung flush on Mr Novokoric’s high cheeks.

Mr Novokoric turns back to the view then, and Dan begins setting out the mugs, knives, forks, spoons and glasses on the tables. He assumes that Mr Novokoric must be one of the two tables having breakfast today, which makes sense, as the Stevens’ left yesterday evening. They’d hugged Dan tightly, promising to return before the year was out. It had, in a way, been rather sad to see them disappearing with Kaspar back down the mountain in the swinging cable car. Mostly Dan is glad that he no longer has to avert his eyes as they walk through the hotel with their omnipresent robes dangerously loose, but they were a parental sort of couple, and he thinks they might genuinely miss him too. Fumbling only slightly, Dan begins to place a setting out in front of Mr Novokoric. As he sets the mug down, Mr Novokoric reaches for it, and frowns as he tilts it towards him.

“Can I get some coffee?”

Dan pauses, flipping the question over in his mind. “Coffee?”

One of those jet black eyebrows springs upwards. “Yes. Is that permitted?”

Dan nods, blushing, and hating himself for it. He takes the mug and scampers off to the kitchen, managing to garble some request to Louise. For some reason his flustered state is amusing to her, and she pretends for a minute or two to have no clue what he’s asking - not helpful - but eventually he gets a mug of filter coffee out of her. He watches, curious, as she automatically adds soya milk and two heaped teaspoons of sugar.

“He’s lactose intolerant,” she says, by way of explanation. “And has a hell of a sweet tooth.”

“I didn’t say who it’s for,” Dan says, perplexed, as he takes the mug from her.

“Who else around here would have you blushing and stammering like a nun at a brothel?”

Dan chooses not to respond to this, mostly because he can’t summon anything except a mortified spluttering sound. He takes the mug of coffee back out to Mr Novokoric, cheeks still a warm pink. It’s just the wind flush though, at this point. Probably. 

“Would you like anything else, Sir?” Dan asks politely. “The chef is still cooking breakfast, but I could perhaps get you some cereal or yoghurt-”

“No, thank you,” Mr Novokoric says sniffily, and Dan replays what Louise just said to him.

“Oh, sorry, you don’t have dairy,” Dan says, shaking his head. Mr Novokoric turns his head sharply back to Dan, frowning. “I could get you some fresh fruit? Or-”

“No,” Mr Novokoric says again, though his voice is less hostile now. “I’m, uh, not hungry.” He pauses, mouth twitching. “...Thanks.”

“No problem.” Dan dithers, uncomfortably aware he now has a wedge of time to kill before the other guests emerge, and no other place to be. “So... um, why are you out here?”

“Excuse me?”

Dan shuts his eyes, cursing silently. “Sorry, I just meant- you’re normally out on the mountain at this time.”

“Oh.” Mr Novokoric sips his drink, looking away.

“Did you not fancy braving the snow today?”

Dan has absolutely no idea why he’s suddenly so intent on keeping this hellish conversation going, given that Mr Novokoric looks like he’d rather pour the coffee over his own head than continue it. Somehow it would be worse to turn away from him though, to stand off to the side and wait for more guests to turn up, arms folded, pretending not to stare as that blank, unhappy glare washed away any animation on Mr Novokoric’s sharp, striking features. So, Dan forces himself to stay rooted to the spot, letting Mr Novokoric’s icy look of contemptuous horror at Dan’s insistence on smalltalk slice through him like he’s snow beneath Mr Novokoric’s boot.

“My ski broke,” he says, unexpectedly.

A flashback hits Dan as abruptly as the cherry-red skis hit the wall of the lobby the day before yesterday. “Oh,” Dan says. “Is there- it can’t be fixed?”

“I highly doubt I’m going to find someone proficient at winter sports equipment repair at the top of this fucking mountain, do you?”

The curse word is shocking, and it takes Dan a moment to let it go. Phil’s accent is slightly Northern, but his diction and use of language is impeccable, presumably due to all the hobnobbing and schmoozing he has to do, as a ‘Royal’. Hearing him swear is what he imagines it would be like hearing the Queen swear. In a sense, it’s rather titillating - another reason Dan should abandon this conversation for good. Luckily, at that moment, the balcony door opens, and Mona ushers the two Bryce sisters through, leading them to the other laid table.

Relieved to see the chattering, marginally irritating middle-aged women for once, Dan excuses himself from Mr Novokoric, who barely bats an eye, and goes to take their breakfast order.

*

In a moment of downtime, while the evening film screening is going on, Dan goes hunting for two cherry-red skis, which he finds near the hotel entrance, leant against the wall. He takes hold of the left one, and examines it closely. Just as Mr Novokoric said, it has a broken appendage - the strap which secures the boot to the ski has come loose. The straps are peculiar to Dan, having no backs to them, but Dan can see where the front part used to fix to the ski itself even so. By comparing it with the other ski, Dan thinks it’s mendable. All too aware that he’s got nothing better to do for the next few hours, Dan takes the ski over to the desk and lays it over his lap as he sits down to take a closer look. 

It’s just because he’s bored, he tells himself as he hunts for tools in Mona’s office, and discovers a tiny screwdriver and screws in one of the cleaning cupboards, along with a pot of superglue. The film is a long one tonight - The Italian Job - so for a few hours Dan is able to work in complete solitude, listening to a faint Muse song through one headphone, and not stopping until the ski is fixed.

*

“I just don’t understand why you’re still holding a grudge against the poor man,” Louise says, scrubbing at a pot with a scourer. Dan, sat up on one of the kitchen counters sipping hot chocolate, rolls his eyes. “He apologised for being rude, didn’t he?”

“Some apology,” Dan counters. Since two days ago in the gym, Dan has convinced himself that Mr Novokoric’s words had been largely to smooth things over with the staff member he’d pissed off, considering that it would be pretty awkward seeing him around the place 24-7 if they were not on speaking terms. In no way, Dan has decided, did Mr Novokoric actually mean what he said. “Just because he’s eloquent doesn’t make him sincere.”

“Ooh-er,” Louise says, flicking washing up water at him. He squeaks, shielding his hot chocolate. “Sounds like he got under your skin.”

Dan’s next sip is too hot, and he burns his tongue.

“Anyway,” Louise says, tipping out the saucepan and laying it out to dry. She starts untying her apron, wearily. “There’s three hours until I’ve got to start on dinner, so I think I’ll have a little lie down. Can you hold the fort for a bit?”

“Uh…” Dan looks through the serving hatch into the empty mezzanine lounge. The Bryce sisters are the only guests staying here at the moment, though another couple are due to check in tonight. Right now, he’s pretty sure the Bryce sisters - an excitable, childlike pair of forty-something women on what they refer to as a ‘girls getaway’ - are in the jacuzzi. If they were anywhere indoors, Dan is certain he’d be able to hear their shrieks of laughter no matter which room they were in. “Sure, yeah. No worries.”

“If you need me, I’m in room three,” Louise says, already on her way to the kitchen door. “But Dan?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t need me,” she warns, and then exits the room.

*

About half an hour later, Dan is in the same position atop the kitchen counter, playing Crossy Road on his phone and polishing off a flapjack from the batch Louise made this morning. Suddenly, a noise like a throat clearing jolts him, and his animated emo goose is hit by a truck. He lowers the phone, head lifting, to see Mr Novokoric at the serving hatch, that cool assessing gaze chilling the temperature of the kitchen by at least two degrees. Dan swallows some flapjack the wrong way, and has to hide a mild choking fit.

In Mr Novokoric’s hand is a mug. “Is Louise here?” he asks.

Dan shakes his head, swallowing his own tonsils to cleat the flapjack from his airway. His eyes water, but he gets down from the counter one gangly leg at a time. “No, sorry,” he croaks. He wipes his hands of flapjack crumbs on a nearby tea-towel. “She’s napping. Can I help?”

Mr Novokoric appears troubled by this news, and takes a moment to reply, as if he’s mulling something over. Eventually, whatever wins out, and he asks, “any chance of some coffee?”

“Oh,” Dan says. “Have you run out of the instant packets in your room? I can find some in the stock cupboard-”

“No-o,” Mr Novokoric interrupts, as if he’s speaking with a half-wit. “I’m not looking for instant coffee. Louise usually makes me a macchiato, if I ask her.”

Dan’s blood runs cold, and he turns to eye the bulky coffee machine sat menacingly on the far counter. “Right,” Dan mutters. “Of course she does.”

Given his past failures to please Mr Novokoric thus far, he doesn’t feel he can say ‘oh, I’m not actually sure how to work this machine, maybe it would be best to wait for Louise to wake up’. So instead, Dan takes the mug, and steps warily over to the machine to attempt something called a ‘macchiato’.

“Caramel macchiato,” Mr Novokoric clarifies, at which Dan turns to blink at him, utterly bemused.

“Mhmm,” he says, for some wild reason. “No problem.”

As he surveys the contraption before him, Dan can feel eyes boring into the back of him - pure judgement coated in an intense, deep blue. He tries his best to ignore the prickle of skin this stare creates, and sets about mimicking what he can remember from watching Louise work the machine. He pours milk into one of the chrome jugs, shoves the spout into it and turns a dial. Droplets of milk immediately fly everywhere, and a monstrous hissing sound emerges from the beast. He quickly turns the dial back, abandoning that for now, and focuses on unfixing one of the espresso-filter-things from its lock. This takes a good two minutes of tugging and silently begging, during which time the milk in the jug seems to develop an appetising skin on top. At last, Dan pulls the thing free, dumps the used granules out and tamps some coffee into it, though he has no idea how much, and probably over-fills it. He does manage to fix it back in place, and over several agonising minutes the espresso drips through into the mug. When he can’t stand the waiting any longer, knowing damn well he’s being scrutinised, Dan takes the mug out, pours a dash of lukewarm milk into it from the jug, and takes it over to the hatch.

It looks.... pretty vile. But he has to hand Mr Novokoric something.

“Uh, here we go. One macchiato.”

He realises in the next moment that he forgot to add any caramel. Not that he’d have any idea where to procure it from in this kitchen. Mr Novokoric looks down at the coffee in Dan’s hand, sends him a look of something like pity, and makes no move to take it.

“Aaand suddenly I can think of nothing better than instant coffee,” he says, nose wrinkling.

He turns away, heading back towards the stairs, leaving Dan with an undrinkable mug of coffee, and a sudden urge to hurl himself off the side of the mountain.

*

“Dan, I need a word,” Mona says, beckoning him into the small office at the back of reception.

It’s early evening, and the neither the Bryce sisters nor the Lautrecs - a quiet French gay couple that arrived an hour or so ago - are interested in an evening film, so there’s fuck all to do. Instantly upon hearing Mona’s words, fear strikes Dan in the chest; he follows Mona into her office, heart in his throat. 

She gestures for him to sit on one of the wicker chairs in front of her desk, so he does, knee jiggling with nerves. “I’m really sorry Mona,” Dan blurts before she’s even sat down. “The job description didn’t say anything about being barista trained. If you received a complaint-”

“I’m going to stop you there, Dan,” Mona says, loudly and shrilly. “I don’t know what you are apologising for, but it’s probably best if I never find out, hm?” 

Gulping down the relief that surges forth, Dan nods emphatically, and relaxes back into the chair. Mona looks a little more polished than usual today, he notes. She has a high-collared white blouse on, which elongates her neck, and a pearl-encrusted scrunchie securing her usual bun. Dan has begun to notice that Mona dresses a bit smarter on the days the mail is delivered, or when new guests arrive, or leave. In other words, any time Kaspar is expected to be around. Kaspar dropped off the Lautrecs earlier, so today is no exception.

Right now she sits at the small desk, hands clasped, and clears her throat. Her cheeks are tinged with rosy pink, probably from Kaspar’s brief visit earlier. The idea of no-nonsense Mona having a teeny crush creates a warm glow in Dan’s chest, and he smiles. “I called you in here because I have some unfortunate news,” Mona says. Dan’s smile quickly vanishes. “I’ve been called away this weekend.”

“Oh,” Dan says, already confused. “Is everything-”

“It’s a personal matter,” Mona tells him, firmly ending his inquiry before it’s begun. “But the timing is poor, what with you having just started, and with it being Louise’s weekend off.”

For a few moments, the implications of this don’t quite settle in. Then, Dan stops being quite so dim. “Wait, do you mean I’d be here alone?”

Mona avoids his eye, neatening some papers on her desk. “I understand that it might seem rather daunting.”

“Mona, I’m nowhere near qualified to run this place on my own,” Dan says in a rush, blood starting to pound loudly in his ears.

Just the thought of such responsibility is crushing; what if he forgot to serve lunch? What if he overslept and nobody was available for the guests? He’s basically a glorified assistant here, he can’t be expected to handle real decisions.

“Dan, it’s just for a couple of days,” Mona says; there’s a pleading tone to her voice that Dan expects doesn’t rear its head very often. “Just until Louise returns on Sunday night. Kaspar can make it up here in a matter of hours if there’s an emergency. But you won’t need him. There’s only one couple booked in to stay, and I doubt they’ll be very high maintenance.”

One couple and a narcissistic rich twat-face whose snobbery extends right down to his coffee order, Dan thinks, but begrudgingly admits to himself that Mr Novokoric is unlikely to be very demanding either. The man seems to keep mostly to himself unless he truly can’t help it. Dan folds his arms across his chest, lip caught between his teeth. He can’t really refuse, particularly as he suspects that Mona is desperate enough to get down onto her stocking-covered knees and beg him. Perhaps he could manage to keep the place afloat without any major screw-ups. But the stress of it all might kill him, even so.

“I know this is completely unfair of me,” Mona tells him, and reaches up to tug the pearl scrunchie out of her bun. The hair spills out, revealing a shoulder-length bob; the sight is so shocking that Dan feels his fingers twitching at his sides, as if he wants to scoop up the loose locks and pull them back into position. Mona runs both hands through the mess of hair, eyes fluttering shut. “I wouldn’t ask unless it were really important. Normally I’d rather drop dead than leave this place in someone else’s hands, even for a day or so, especially without Louise to help. But I just can’t see another option. It’s… it’s my grandmother, you see. She’s ninety-four, and on her last legs-”

“It’s fine,” Dan says quickly. He can’t bear to see her like this; he doubts that even Louise, who’s worked here for four years, has seen Mona with her hair down. Dan’s never even seen Mona in plain clothes. She probably sleeps in her crisp skirt-suits. “I can handle things,” Dan assures her, hoping he has something akin to conviction in his tone, given that he’s speaking out of his ass. “Like you said, it’s just a weekend.”

“I’ll be a phone call away,” Mona promises, eyes reopening in order to look at Dan like he’s Christ arisen. “Thank you, Dan. I’ll remember this.”

*

The following morning, Mr Novokoric is sat at a table on the balcony again, just as Dan is about to set up for breakfast. He already has a coffee in front of him today, Dan notes, cheeks burning when he remembers yesterday’s fiasco. Luckily it’s windy again this morning, so he can blame the pink colour of his skin on that, if asked.

He mutters a “good morning” and starts setting Mr Novokoric’s table, asking him politely to lift his drink so that he can lay a tablecloth down. Dan can feel that hard, ultramarine stare as he sets out a knife and fork he knows will remain untouched - the man seems to live on coffee alone - and tries to resist the urge to spew some garbled apology for yesterday’s macchiato fiasco.

Before he can get it out however, Mr Novokoric speaks. “So, I asked Mona to order me a new phone, and some new skis.”

The last word makes Dan drop a spoon. He bends down to get it, but he’s not quick enough. Mr Novokoric hands it back to him, some curious sparkle hiding beneath his usual stern expression.

“More skis,” Dan echoes, trying not to let his expression droop. So, it seems he’s spent a good three hours of his life fixing a ski that will shortly be replaced. So much for being a good samaritan. “Right. Are you asking me if they’ve arrived? I can check, but I don’t think Kaspar has brought them up yet-”

“Strangest thing, though,” Mr Novokoric interrupts, as though Dan hadn’t been in the middle of a sentence. “I went to throw my old skis away, and there’s nothing wrong with them. The strap’s been mended.”

“Huh,” Dan says, turning back to his basket for a new spoon. He sets it carefully on the table, trying to remain composed. “Weird.”

“Did you fix it?”

Pinned in place by Mr Novokoric’s gaze, Dan feels his face turning from pink to red. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I had no idea you’d already ordered more-”

He breaks off, wary of the strange expression being aimed at him. Mr Novokoric’s eyes have softened, and there’s something close to a smile threatening to break forth. The idea of him actually smiling is enough to fluster Dan into taking a hasty step backwards. The man is uncomfortably pretty as it is, which is confusing enough considering he’s such an asshole. Dan doesn’t know if he could handle a dazzling grin on top of that.

“That was… unexpected,” Mr Novokoric says slowly. His smile still hasn’t quite broken through, but his face has lost the hardness Dan is used to seeing. Without the usual frown lines and turned down corners of his mouth, he could even be beautiful. “Thank you. Of course, your repair is unneeded now, but I appreciate the gesture.”

“Yeah, um, no worries,” Dan says, wondering how rude it would be to just run away. “I had a spare minute, so…”

“Not many people would have the initiative, let alone the intellect to do that,” he says, draining the last of his coffee. He hold the mug out for Dan to take. “I’m impressed.”

Feeling about three inches tall now, Dan just gives him a tight smile. “Thanks,” he says through gritted teeth, and takes the mug. “Another coffee?”

“Depends,” Mr Novokoric answers, arching an eyebrow. “Who’s making it?”

“L-Louise,” Dan says, cheeks hot again.

“Then yes, please,” he says, turning back to the view in front of him.

“Right away, Mr Novokoric,” Dan mutters, glad of the eventual opening to escape.

“Dan?”

Ugh, not so fast, it seems. “Yes?”

“Call me Phil, if you like.”

*

“Lou, I have an urgent problem,” Dan says, slamming into the kitchen.

She doesn’t look up from the eggs she’s scrambling. “It’s gonna take me a few hours to sort your hair out for you, Dan. I don’t have time right now, I’ve got to get breakfast out.”

“What? No, I need you to teach me how to work the coffee machine,” Dan says, smoothing his hair down self-consciously.

Louise looks up sharply, a smirk spreading over her mouth. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “I’m going to be here on my own all weekend. I need to know how to make fancy coffees for… guests.”

“Caramel macchiatos?”

“All the different kinds!”

Louise laughs in her long, pretty trill, and nods. “After breakfast,” she says. “Meet me here, I’ll give you a lesson.”

Dan grins at her, then plucks a raspberry from a bowl nearby. “Oh, and Phil wants another cup when you have a sec.”

“Sure,” Louise mutters, going back to the eggs. “I’ll get that for Phil.”  

Dan pretends not to hear the knowing smile hidden in her voice as he exits the kitchen. He jogs back outside then, just in time to usher the Lautrecs to their table. 

*

As it turns out, the coffee machine is going to take more than one lesson to master. Not because it’s especially complicated - more because Dan is utterly inept.

“Watch it!” Louise shrieks as Dan turns the wrong knob, and spurts actual boiling steam from the nozzle. Luckily, they both somehow manage to avoid getting scalded. “My God, Daniel, have you never watched the barista as they make your latte before?”

“I’m not really very attentive,” Dan says, sheepishly. 

He looks over the herd of coffees he’s made over the last hour, all huddled together on the counter. The argument could probably be made that his most recent is better than the initial attempts, but that would hardly be a compliment. He imagines each of the milky, sludge-coloured concoctions is silently whispering ‘kill me, please’. 

“Okay, let’s try a macchiato again.” He’s nothing if not determined.

“You seem to be under the impression that I have nothing better to do than dodge you covering me in coffee granules,” Louise says, wiping the nozzle clean. “I’ve got to get lunch going, so maybe we can pick this up tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Friday,” Dan protests. “That’s the day you leave.”

“Not ‘til the evening,” Louise says. “There’s enough time to squeeze in another lesson before that, God help me.”

“Just one more,” Dan begs, giving her his most puppy-dog expression. “Just show me the macchiato again. Please.”

She sighs dramatically, sort of groaning. “Alright, alright. Get the caramel syrup then.”

It’s not until Dan has the syrup in his hands that he realises Louise is insinuating that these macchiatos are for Phil. She aims a knowing smile at him, and Dan just ignores her, cheeks pink as he pours caramel into the mug. He’s frothing milk, Louise shrieking instructions in his ear - “tilt the jug!”, “you’re spraying it everywhere, push the nozzle down more!”, “not that far, Christ!” - when he senses someone watching him. Mortified at the idea his foibles might be witnessed, Dan drops the jug and hot, not-so-frothy milk gushes everywhere, soaking his and Louise’s shoes, and a lot of the kitchen floor.

“Dan, I’m about to write you off as a lost cause!” Louise shouts, tearing her hat off her head and storming to the sink to find a cloth. “If these shoes are ruined you’re buying me more.”

Dan barely hears her; he’s too busy meeting the curious stare aimed at him. Phil Novokoric is sat at one of the indoor tables in the mezzanine, chin in his hand, watching Dan through the serving hatch. For some reason, Dan lifts his hand in a semblance of a wave; this seems to amuse Phil greatly, though he doesn’t wave back. Instead, a small, barely-there smile graces his lips, presumably for himself, and then he gets up, and walks towards the stairs to the lobby.

“Right,” Louise says, chucking a damp cloth at Dan. “Clean this up, then get the hell out of my kitchen. Coffee class resumes tomorrow.”

(Chapter Five coming next Friday!)

[alpacannot]

So, I made some miniscule changes to the first chapter, mainly introducing Tris’s two dogs (Marlow, her Alaskan Malamute, and Blake, her Siberian Husky), working them into the story more, and editing a few things, but here’s the rest of chapter 1 (also unedited)!

“See you tonight!” he called out as he all but skipped through the doors. I sighed as I watched him leave—we’d been inseparable during school, but I felt like I hardly ever saw him anymore. He lived across the hall, but with my hours, I was always working during his free time. By some stroke of luck, he was assigned to me after we both graduated. We had resigned ourselves to the reality that we would basically never see each other again, so we were both overjoyed to discover that we would be working together—of course, that glee was short lived. Aside for the occasional dinner together, work kept us apart.

Thumbing through the background information, I began determining initial judgements for today’s Reapings. Live, Limbo, Heaven, Limbo, Live, Hell, the list went on a on, and I scribbled down a note on the tops of their files. Of course, HR would determine exactly what part of the Afterlife they went to—those in Limbo had the option to work here instead of spending the rest of their lives fading away in the realm in between Heaven and Hell. Depending on your beliefs, sometimes those destined for Heaven had to work off a debt with their deity, and they were sent here as well—usually as Runners. HR sorted the rest into the right parts of Heaven and Hell, where their respective gods and goddesses would take care of the rest. In comparison, my job was easy: if their time was up, I looked at what they’d done in life and decided if they deserved to continue living. After all the office work was done, it was my job to go collect their souls. Sometimes mistakes are made—Reapers are given the wrong file, we’re interrupted, or someone on Earth intervenes. Other complications can arise during someone’s life, but the outcome is always the same: if someone on Earth becomes aware of the Afterlife prematurely, their soul is immediately harvested, and they come to work here. Through some cruel twist of fate, that’s exactly how I ended up in this particular hellish cycle.

Before long, all the necessary paperwork was done, and I began to gather my things in preparation for crossing over to Earth. Grabbing my clipboard, several death certificates, and a pen, I stuffed everything into my bag, snatching up my keycard on my way out. With Blake and Marlow helping me along, I slowly made my way to the exit, waiting for security to check my bag. Scanning my keycard, I glanced at today’s route. I’d be jumping all over the the Mid-Atlantic area today, starting in Pennsylvania. I fastened the buttons of my coat, gritting my teeth as I braced myself for the icy wind. The door in front of me opened, revealing nothing but an empty black abyss. Steeling my nerves, I stepped into the oppressing darkness, feeling the weight on my chest pushing against me. This part is always the worst.

After what seemed like an eternity of fighting against the inky black tar, I forced my way through the veil and onto Earth. The frigid wind bit at my cheeks, and I clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. It was always a huge shock to go from the climate-controlled office to the real world. Forcing my frozen fingers to open my bag, I pulled out my clipboard, checking for my first stop. I unhooked Blake and Marlow, letting them run free until work was done—I would need them to support me later. Putting the address into my phone, I began the short walk through downtown Johnstown. The sidewalks were full of people on their way back to work after lunch, and I quietly slipped between the crowds.

It didn’t take me long to find little Bethany Jones, playing happily outside. Her mother bustled in the kitchen, busy fixing lunch for the two of them. My heart clenched. I hate this part. I moved closer to Bethany, reaching out for her. Make it painless. I grabbed her shoulder, pulling her soul out in one fluid motion. Cradling her now limp body, I felt a warm tear run down my cheek. Turning to face the new shade, I forced myself to put on a brave face. “It’s gonna’ be okay. I promise,” I murmured to her. Gently laying her cooling corpse on the grass, I took her hand and led her to the nearest Afterlife office. I drug her away from her old house, trying to block out the wailing of her mother and hold on to the struggling child.

*********

There were so many children today. I’ve never collected that many young souls, I thought. Marlow nuzzled my shoulder, and I buried my face in his thick fur. A sharp knock echoed through my apartment, and Blake ran over to paw and whine at the door. PJ pushed his way through, coming to sit next to me on the couch. “Rough day?” he asked.

“There were so many children,” I moaned. “Almost all of them.” I felt him shift uncomfortably.

“I know,” he sighed. He traced soothing circles around my calf, knowing there was nothing he could say. “I’ll make us something to eat.” I wanted to protest, but he knew as well as I did that today had been one of the worst days I’d had since I’d come here. I hated that suddenly everything was about me, but I couldn’t block out the wailing of those poor kids’ mothers.

“Peej, why were there so many kids today?” He stopped opening the cupboards and turned towards me.

“I don’t know.” He deflated, and I moved towards him, his arms gently cradling me. “We could ask Alex,” he murmured. “He might know more, being so high up.” I weakly nodded. Blake nudged my leg, and I leaned against her warm, stable body. I slumped into a barstool.

“So, tell me about this new prospect of yours. Anyone we know?” I was desperately trying to move on to a more light-hearted subject. PJ lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I’m not sure if you’d know him—I think he might be a transfer from another branch. He came to give me a Summons yesterday, and he was totally flirting with me.”

“Well, what’s his name?”

“Chris Kendall.” I choked.

“Peej, we know Chris. He’s totally straight.”

“What? No way! He was totally coming on to me yesterday—he even winked at me when he passed by this morning. I know queer, and Chris is definitely it.”

“I’m pretty sure your gay-day needs recalibrated. I know he was dating Christine this time last year.” I hated to burst his bubble, but it was better than seeing him get his heart broken again.

“Say what you will, but I don’t believe you. I never saw them together.”

“PJ, they went to your department’s Christmas party together last year.”

“I’m pretty sure I would have noticed him if he’d been there.” I sighed, exasperated, and gave up, putting my hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“Just you wait, Tristan Sieghard. Come the next Christmas party, you’ll be seeing him on my arm.”

“Alright, alright. You’re the boss.”

“And don’t you forget it,” he said, sticking his tongue out at me.

*********

By the time PJ and I had finished catching up, I was exhausted. I’d been emotionally drained all day, but I all but collapsed into my bed when we finally called it a night. I curled up under the covers, relishing in their warmth. Marlow and Blake settled in next to me, and I closed my eyes, hoping for a peaceful night’s rest.

I didn’t get it.

The soothing hum of Alistair’s voice lulled in the background of my thoughts. It was a beautiful day, and the walk back home from school with my brother was always a source of joy.

“Do you have any homework?” he asked.

“Not much—just a math worksheet and my cursive practice book.”

“Want to rent a movie? Blockbuster’s right over there.”

“Only if I get to pick.”

“You always do,” he laughed, ruffling my hair. I playfully stuck my tongue out at him, as I started to cross the street.

“Tris, look out!” He shouted, reaching for me. I turned to see what he was yelling about, but the scquealing tires told me everything I needed to know.

[rkmiya]

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ SN PROJECT SOLO TIME ˎˊ˗

month: three week: four - may 26th LIVE CONCERT! opening dance + freestyle! (1:11-1:20) hush + omona! (line distribution) for outfit reference, check back to THIS!

sunmi was beyond ready for the finale of this prison they’ve been subjected to for three months. it was more draining than sunmi initially anticipated. they were together at any given moment. for meals, for practise, to sleep. it was nova kids 24/7. sunmi longed for the isolation of her room and for the comfort of knowing she’d be alone without anything recording her.

(she knows that for some time after she’s still going to walk around with a certain stiffness as if expecting a camera to catch a habit of hers even if there isn’t any one around her.)

the group had been training together. the practise room was a blend of red and blue and the single gold vest. solji. she had been blessed the the opportunity. sunmi took it upon herself to tell her she was proud of her. she more than deserved the position because she surely was talented. even when the other denied it, sunmi assured her that she has impeccable talent and she deserves to be recognised for it and she deserves to relish in the victory of it. beyond that, the eldest trainee took no notice to vest colours. nor did she ever grow meek for wearing the red vest. unchanged with her interactions with any of the girls despite any comparisons or trickery their ceo tried to commit. she treated them all the same. she wanted them to succeed.

wendy was looking much healthier now. it was a relief of sunmi’s to know that she didn’t have to worry about the other as much. they only had a week to fine tune any nicks and hiccups in their performances. sunmi couldn’t afford to have to back pedal to make sure no one else was falling apart. if they were, they either didn’t come to her or did a damn good job of hiding it. the truth was, the close they came to the finale the more and more tired sunmi felt. she was exhausted and probably didn’t have the emotional capacity to try and shoulder someone else’s problems.

they were almost done. she just wanted it to be over.

she wasn’t expecting hui to join her on one of her broodier days but she welcomed the company. the two eldest of the girls and boys respectively. for a moment they were together in silence then in the next, hui said in almost a whisper, “what if only the girlss or boyss will get to debut?” sunmi’s shoulders rolled back and she stiffened. she played with this scenario in her mind many times. she tortured herself with it.

hyun bin believed he was being so innovative by making a show in which both genders compete to debut. it was to generate public attention and hype. it was to get the popularity that nova had lost over the years because he so carelessly decided not to debut a group outright. what he didn’t care to think of was how many trainees were suffering from this. how many of them were banking on this; both male and female trainees were desperate at this point. half and half. if one goes, the other is at a loss. five years. sunmi can’t do this anymore and she knows she can’t.

her eyes glaze over a bit. she looks a bit distant. there’s some sort of ache in her chest. regret. “then i signed away another 2 years for no reason. i’ll be 28 by the time i’m done with nova and if we don’t debut now i sure as hell know i won’t be debuted then. i’ll have wasted my time and life at this company and i hate that this is the scenario for more than just me.”

he doesn’t say something. looking at him through her peripherals tells her he was stewing over her response. she turns to him as he speaks again. “you think this month will be the end of the line for me?” sunmi wants to scoff. she wants to laugh and tell him he’s being ridiculous. but is he though? they were both here, red vests even after everything they’ve put into this company. told that they were disappointing despite being masters of their specific creed. they’re not ready. not good enough. humiliated. ignored.

maybe huidong wasn’t crazy for thinking so because sunmi was almost certain that no matter what she did, she was still going to be the one going home.

“you?” she shakes her head. “probably not. i’ve been saying this from the beginning that i felt like this was going to be a boys thing. nova boys. seems like the way to go, no? i wouldn’t be surprised if after all this when we watch the show itself that it’s edited for the boys favour mostly while the girls are given smaller snippets.” she doesn’t want to sound bitter but she can’t help it. how many years have gone by that the nova girls have been given the shorter end of the stick? even if nova has done things that were shared between the two genders, who always had the greater opportunities? the boys. it’s been that way for years and she doubts it’ll change now.

“what’re they going to do without you? what would they even kick you off for? for saying you’re too old?” sunmi scoffs. the idea sounds so laughable to her. “then that’s nova’s fault for taking years to even do something. if they did this years ago, your age wouldn’t be the question.” huidong nods although she’s not sure if it’s because he agrees or because he’s noting that he’s listening to her. sunmi sighs.

“i’m sad bambam got eliminated,” huidong says after a moment. sunmi looks up at him in alarm. “hui opp--”

“as a hyung it was my responsibility.”

sunmi shakes her head, reaching out to touch his arm and grab his attention. “no.” she says this firmly. “it’s not. we feel that need to protect and herd them so we feel that personal responsibility when we lose one or if they fall apart but we cannot take that as a personal fault. it’s not our job to at this moment to make sure they all excel. it’s theirs. we may be a team but it’s time they sink or swim on their own. you can’t take that on yourself.”

for a moment she expects huidong to counter her. to say that she was wrong and it was his fault. that he should have gone home instead or ensured that bambam did better. instead he says she was right. “maybe that’s what hyun bin was trying to tell me.”

sunmi shakes her head and scoffs. “who knows what that man is trying to say.”

at some point, sunmi overhears a conversation in which kaeun says she wasn’t sorry for taking a spot in the safe zone. she wouldn’t give up her chance for it. sunmi realises that if she cared more (or if this was a version of herself from a couple of years ago) she would have gotten angry. insulted. probably would have rounded the corner, curses blazing to tell kaeun off with how insensitive she sounded. the truth was, kaeun was right.

none of them would feel sorry for being safe. none of them would give a moment to look back. because even if sunmi took the time to tell the girls that they should do their damn best, that they got this in them and whatever other encouragements she had for them, they still avoided the blue vests like the plague. awkward. possibly envious. and it was sunmi who wasn’t fazed in the end.

instead the elder nods. she only says, “you should never be sorry,” as she passes. it was the only tidbit she gave to the conversation.

sunmi wasn’t expecting a thank you from wendy. it was a surprise. it came up out of the blue after they wrapped up a group practise together before branching off to to individual work. sunmi almost reminded wendy that there was no need to thank her. she would always check to make sure that they were okay. that always went without saying.

wendy insisted regardless and sunmi found herself rolling her eyes (playfully) and pulling the younger into a hug. “i love you all very much, okay? i always want to make sure you guys are doing your best.” she mumbles against wendy although she’s sure their mics had no problem picking that up.

“you picked up your freestyle really well,” sunmi said with a smile as jungwoo finished what sunmi promised to be his last full run of the dance for her satisfaction. “you know you’re going to do phenomenal at the live show, right?”

perhaps it was the approach of the end of this hellish nightmare for them that was making her feel more sentimental than not. even if her demeanor is sometimes stand offish, she opens up well with most, if not all of them. perhaps it was more than just different for jungwoo in particular considering their complex relationship took quite a bit of time to reach where it is now: a point where they could consider each other friends.

the younger boy turns to her, the confusion clear on his face. “noona are you feeling okay?” sunmi rolls her eyes, playfully (and lightly) smacking at his arm. he still blinks at her like he wasn’t sure she was being truthful. sunmi chooses to ignore his expression (and stomps down the urge to call him out on it). instead she adjusts his gold vest so it was straightened and fixes his hair so it’s more orderly. “i’m perfectly fine, jungwoo. i’m just really proud of you okay?”

when she pulls back to look at the younger she’s surprised to see tears in his eyes. if she said something wrong she wasn’t expecting tears. annoyance, maybe but not anything worth crying over. sunmi sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “god, why are you crying right now?”

"i’m just tired you made me do this dance like five times in a row!” he whined defensively. sunmi knew better.

she lightly flicks his forehead. “idiot. go wipe your face. there’s no need to cry.”

in a feeble attempt to do what she says he wipes his eyes with his sweater sleeve but his face is still pink and tears are still forming. she shakes her head, moving closer to wipe his tears herself. “i’m tired too but you’re doing great,” she says with a smile, knowing it probably did nothing but provoke even more tears from the younger. he looks ready to complain again and she laughs, pulling him to a hug. “you need to stop teasing me, noona,” he says petulantly although he hugs her back. she pats his head. “yeah but no one can tease you as well as i can.”

the day of the live concert came far too quickly. there was the pre-performance jitters as always. they always mildly plagued the elder but it was never something so incredible that she inhibited her from actually doing the performance. she was happy that the first performance of the night was dancing. hyun bin could slander her skills all he wanted but at least the live audience would be impressed with her dancing (and maybe her performance in the group too) before their ceo trashes her once again in front of thousands of people.

live.

she tried not to be bitter that day. she couldn’t let her negative emotions overwhelm her. just a couple more hours from now and this would be all over. she needed to make it through the end. if she could just do it without breaking down completely she would consider it a success.

getting ready probably took a lot longer than she anticipated. in the salon chair, sunmi was just about ready to fall asleep in the chair. thankfully between performances she wasn’t going to get much done to her hair and makeup. she would be groggy from the mini naps if that were the case.

in the very least she was wide awake because of the electricity in the air. nerves, excitement. everyone seemed pumped. it kept sunmi awake (after her hair was done). maybe the nerves overrode the excitement that their trials were coming to an end. they still didn’t know what they were competing for. they know who was doing best for the boys and girls however they didn’t know the overall ranking. where did both genders stand in one ranking? were the boys doing better than the girls? who was the best overall trainee of them?

sunmi had a feeling they were going to learn this after their performances were over.

“we’re almost done,” she tells hyuna as they’re getting their makeup done. when the artist goes to grab a different brush sunmi takes the opportunity to turn to her. “are you nervous or are you excited?” everyone seems to be a blend of both though for the danger zone people - now finally without their red vests - it was a conflicting feeling.

sunmi has a feeling that by the end of this, she’s still going to be ranked low. she feels it. it’s like inevitability. it was the only thing she’s heard since coming to nova. criticisms. it was never that she was good enough or praised. she wasn’t rewarded like she was in sphere. it wasn’t the same. she was fully prepared for hyun bin to tell her she stays in her danger zone position and she’s out of the running to debut. the old man thinks he’s being dramatic or cute by doing such a thing. it would only make him an idiot for benching a veteran trainee. one that he’d surely lose after this, at that.

sunmi doesn’t voice this to hyuna, however. she lets the cynical thoughts circle in her mind. the thoughts that left her (apologetically) distracted that she didn’t get hyuna’s answer. instead she reaches across their makeup chairs to grab her hand and squeeze it. “ash,” she starts in english, “no matter what happens...” she finishes in korean, “you did so amazingly well. you made it to the end. that’s something to be proud of, okay? it’s an accomplishment.” if hyuna loses, it wouldn’t feel like much of an accomplishment because she wasn’t debuting. sunmi wouldn’t fault her if she ultimately felt that way. but she knows that it’s what a lot of them need right now: being told that they did well. if hyun bin wasn’t going to be that person then so be it.

sunmi was fine with standing in and doing just that.

they were ready to go up for the “intro” of the concert so to speak. they had practised this specific routine for the last two weeks. sunmi hoped this all served them well and that hopefully the order does them some good. suddenly sunmi thinks they should have considered dancing skill comparison when choosing the order so nobody gets upstaged but it’s too late the back track now.

sunmi has her pinky looped around wendy’s as they stand off waiting for the cue to go on stage. the urge of softness and kindness hasn’t left her all month, especially when she seems so set on her next move should this end badly. it was best to get all the kindness out now before sunmi (inevitably) turns sour from this experience.

“you know, wen, i am so proud of you,” she tells the younger in english. a number of the nova girls spoke english as well so it wasn’t like she was attempting to disguise her conversation. it just felt more natural between them to speak in the language they both shared. she looked down at wendy, who was looking back up at her with wide eyes. “i am. you really pulled yourself together. you’re going to kill it today, you understand? you’re going to do amazing and i couldn’t be prouder. i love you a lot.”

there was something about telling people things that they don’t believe themselves: they cry. they’re not prepared for people to tell them that because it’s been so long since they heard an affirmation like that that they stopped believing. jungwoo cried, hyuna cried and now wendy had tears threatening to spill as well. sunmi was quick to reach for a napkin to dab at the tears. wendy laughed despite her tears.

“you know, sunmi unnie, the last person to tell me that was my mum.” sunmi paused, looking at wendy. “on our last phone call together. that’s what she told me too.” sunmi felt her heart twist. of course she wasn’t anyones real mother in nova. some “kids” only were a year younger than her. in hyuna and solji’s case they were the same age as sunmi so it wasn’t like she was their mother either. but to the younger ones; the ones with a clear age gap between them like sunmi and wendy’s 5 years, sunmi was a parental figure away from home. haknyeon has said it multiple times (even going as far as to openly call her ‘mom’ several times), ricky at one point had commented it as well.

sunmi didn’t want kids. she’s not sure that stance will ever change. (it’s not like she can have them anyways, while dating jinkyung.) but even if she ever changed her mind she already has so many with the people in nova. it was enough for her.

sunmi never thought that nova would amount to sphere. she was right. by company standards, nova will never mean to her what sphere did. but the people? the people are just as much family as the old sphere trainees were. the nova trainees were her favourite and only pro to being in nova. they’re the reason she stays time and time again. maybe it’s time to let the birds leave the nest. or, rather, for the mama to.

sunmi doesn’t think about it for the rest of the night.

she dances her ass off. she was being serious when she said that dances made for girl groups were always lack lustre and boring to watch. they were meant to show how sexy and pretty the girls were as if that’s all they were capable of doing. sunmi not only kicked down that stereo type but she choke slammed it with her tough popping centre dance.

screw girls only being sexy for their freestyles while boys get to be impressive. it wasn’t cool nor fair and sunmi wasn’t about to play into the agenda of being just eye candy when debut was at stake. she wasn’t sure if they were going to catch her pop up jump at the very end but god she’d be so angry if it doesn’t make it into the episode cut. it was the best part. sometimes camera work was notorious for being extraordinarily shitty. she didn’t suffer with bruised legs for them to not catch it.

truthfully sunmi wasn’t a fan of either song. though they were clearly supposed to represent 2 different vibes they were ultimately the same. although omona was more overtly feel good and cute, it still had these elements of maturity and sensuality that made the slow-paced song just a bit odd for sunmi. while hush was clearly supposed to be more sexy (at least that’s what parts of the choreography suggested) but there were parts that were just....cute. or was it the way the girls sang it that it sounded very cutesy to sunmi’s ears?

she tried not to be pessimistic especially when she felt like the boys were going to have something more energetic and diverse in sound that the girls were going to pale in comparison. it wouldn’t be fair in the end because these were songs they were handed but at least it would confirm to sunmi that the girls were always set up to fail in lieu of the boys taking centre of the entire project itself. it only left her to be annoyed as to why hyun bin would do all this but she couldn’t get ahead of herself. they had two original songs to perform. so for just about 8 minutes, sunmi would have to put on a mask and perform as if she’s all-in with the song. idols did it all the time. she can do it for her final live performances of the super nova project at the very least.

sunmi felt antsy.

she was glad to get their final performance out of the way but now this meant for their coaches and ceo to deliberate live in real time and deliver the results. there wasn’t any doubt that hyun bin was going to drag this on for suspense but sunmi was really ready to get this over with.

she kept saying this. maybe if she convinced herself enough that she wanted this over with she’d be less disappointed when it actually was. the mantra kept playing over and over in her head. sunmi even had a bit of trouble staying still in her spot. her bed was so close yet so far. she needed to know the nightmare was over.

then finally they got ready to start. this was it. it was time. sunmi figures it’ll take just about ten or fifteen minutes for the final results and explanations to come out. then, after that they will be free to go. free to collect their phones and free to pack he hell up and sleep. she was ready she was so ready for it.

the minute the nova ceo got ready to speak, sunmi felt her stomach drop. maybe she was bullshitting herself. because in that moment, seeing the microphone in his hand she realised: sunmi wasn’t ready to hear the final fate of her career. this was her last shot and his words had more weight than even he realised.

a part of her wasn’t ready for this to be the end.

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Dagger in the Dark Pt 1: Two Captains, One Carriage

At last once the sun had risen high enough over the woodlands to the east, and the Amber Glade had stirred from their beds, Syrahn was ready to face the great houses. She hadn’t slept a wink since she sent Lady Kaevia that letter; the threat of assassins looming around every corner and hiding behind every blade of grass kept her emotionally drained and physically exhausted. But the whispers hadn’t haunted her since the sun came up, giving her a blissful rest from the voices at the edge of her thoughts. Syrahn stood up straight and took all the time she needed before stepping out into the glaring sunlight to get to the truth of all this.

Immediately she noticed the foreign armor of her guardsmen. They were clad in the darkest armor she had ever seen, wielding longswords with a deep blood-like crimson, and shields that looked like they were carved straight out of obsidian; she could only imagine their suffering in this hellish heat, but she didn’t dwell on such thoughts for long. Most of them knelt the moment they noticed her presence, with just a single guard opening the door to her carriage. Fear of them not being her guardsmen at all and cutting her down once she got close enough made her reluctant to approach. “First stop, my Lady?” One of them asked, helping to put her mind at ease; she could recognize Sven Skyfire any day, even when he’s hidden in that ghastly armor.

“House Greyshade.” Syrahn offered him a relieved smile before gripping the front of her dress while she lowered her head and stepped into her carriage.

“Ah, the perfect thing to see first thing in the morning!” Another familiar voice called out to her, this time from within the carriage. Her subtle smile vanished the instant she recognized Lord Zaetan Bladewhisper and Lord Victus Sunpath sitting on either side of each other. “Well what are you waiting for? Hop in my Lady!”

Syrahn froze stiff. “What are you two doing in my carriage?!” Zaetan and Victus exchanged confused glances at such a strange question.

“It's usually customary for the Guard Captains to accompany the Glade Queen, is it not?” The tone in Zaetan’s voice seemed harmlessly playful, but it annoyed her all the same.

“My Guard Captain can't defend me very well inside my carriage,” Syrahn started while she felt heat rising to the surface of her face. “I didn't authorize either of you to assume his position either… and I definitely don't need two captains!”

“You did suggest someone from my house would be willing to do the job.” Zaetan calmly explained; Syrahn clenched her jaw and pursed her lips together at that realization. She remembered saying something along those lines yesterday afternoon. “Your new Honorguard is more than capable of fending off any threats now that they're properly equipped too, as a token of my family's goodwill.”

“Fair enough…” Slowly she sat down along the bench and the carriage door closed behind her. She chose to sit as far away from the two as she possibly could, but since she gave her more prestigious carriage to Jaeras so she could travel to the Sun’rael Manor in style, her backup ride was a little more… cramped than she remembered; even on the other side she was almost butting her knees against theirs. “So… why do I need two of you?”

“If assassins were sent to kill Lady Sun’rael from the Glade, then you can't rule out the possibility of them turning their attention to you as well.” Victus warned with Zaetan nodding in approval. “Think of us as retainers, if that suits you.”

Syrahn narrowed her eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“Your sister filled us in.” Zaetan quickly answered. “That’s why we’re going to House Greyshade, is it not?”

“I'm on my way to visit all of the houses, yes.” She didn't want to single out House Greyshade just yet, not until she had all the facts. “I need to get to the bottom of this but I'm not about to start a witch hunt. Hopefully none of our houses are guilty… because if they are, I will not hesitate to banish them.”

“Banishment seems a little tame for attacking your allie-"

Syrahn didn't wait for Victus to finish his thought by saying, “The families would be banished. Those directly responsible will be hanged.” Her eyes flickered between them with aggressive intent in her gaze. “I suppose I should start with you two.”

“My Lady?” Zaetan asked while Victus fell silent.

“Thank you for volunteering.” The Glade Queen straightened up in her seat while she studied his face for the slightest trace of deception. “You already know assassins came after Lady Sun’rael less than three days after the Amber Glade demanded reparations for our garden’s destruction. Why would House Bladewhisper want her dead?”

“We wouldn't.” Zaetan answered plainly yet confidently. “Sure we've killed people we didn't like before. But sending in assassins to do our dirty work is… tasteless. Like using poison the way House Sunlust tried on us it's without honor.” He gave her a comforting smile before finishing with, “And you know how much we Bladewhispers yap on about honor. I'm sure you're tired of hearing it by now, truth be told.”

Syrahn was not yet convinced of his innocence. “Truth be told House Sun’rael is a mercenary contractor. Mercenaries will do just about anything and kill just about anyone for money. Your house does the same… sounds like a recipe for conflicting interests, wouldn't you agree?”

“Our trade is mostly selling arms and armor. We buy raw materials from mining guilds and goblin cartels, refine it in our forges, then make whatever the demand is from scratch. Your Honorguard was outfitted by our best blacksmiths, free of charge.”

“How thoughtful.” The Glade Queen decided to keep that remark to herself. Lord Zaetan seemed like an honest man; a simple man perhaps, but an honest man nonetheless. Although she was convinced he had nothing to do with that attempt on Kaevia’s life, ruling out his family before she spoke with them directly was not an option. As quickly as she blinked, Syrahn’s amber eyes flickered to Victus.

“House Sunpath would never stoop so low as to send assassins to dismantle House Sun’rael. As a fellow family devoted to the wrathful flames of the Holy Light, we share a special kinship, I'd wager.” He didn't wait for Syrahn to speak before making his case. “None of my family was harmed during the attack on the Glade either. It just doesn't make sense for us to raise a hand against them.” Syrahn found it remarkably difficult to read their faces, but a part of her was merely convinced she was just searching for something that wasn't there. What both of them said sounded genuine and believable, and if everyone she talked to was this convincing, she was in for a grand waste of her time. “But you know who would want to harm House Sun’rael?” Lord Victus spoke up, catching her attention again. “House Greyshade.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Syrahn quickly asked before a sharp inhale; the animosity between the Sunpaths and Greyshades was no secret. If she knew it was more than a house dedicated to the Holy Light and a house devoted to the Void distrusting each other out of instinct Syrahn wouldn't have let either of them into the Amber Glade in the first place. “Or is this your excuse for me to banish your enemies?”

“House Greyshade killed two of my nephews.” As expected Victus was quick on the draw to defend his family. “Listen - I don't have proof so I'm not saying they did it… but they've hired cutthroats to do their dirty work before. And as a family of warlocks and shadow priests, they're predisposed to hate a fellow house of paladins.”

Syrahn wasn’t interested in their rivalry. It looked childish to keep such grudges as someone on the outside looking in, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was in his very same shoes not even two years ago; House Flamesunder held such bitterness for her family, and it resulted in a civil war that almost brought the Amber Glade to ruin. Before she was able to open her mouth to comment, the carriage finally stopped at the first destination of many. “House Greyshade, my Lady.” Sven called out from the driver’s seat, as Lord Zaetan stepped outside to open her door for her.

“I should probably stay here.” Lord Victus suggested, leaning back in his seat.

The Glade Queen gave him a long stare before her door was opened. “You probably should.”

Mentions: @k-sunrael @house-sunrael

[mikazukikannagisjourney]

The Metaphysical Importance of Monthly Periods (based on my own experiences)

Sub-context: I have been testing this metaphysical idea since December 2019 and so far I have some interesting and liberating results. Also I have no idea if anyone else in the spiritual and metaphysical community has already posted something like this so I am putting this long-@ss post here, to support other ladies who are still hating on having to bleed at least once or twice a year and feels like it makes absolutely no sense.

Some months ago, a healer told me I hated having periods. And I felt a bit touchy about it because I just finished my week-long bleeding and I saw nothing fun about the entire process: feeling pain in almost every part of my body, bleeding like crazy, everything that I start feeling just seems 100% more intense, painful zits keep popping up, and being an emotional wreck for no logical reason just tops the cake. So yeah, in a way, I do hate having periods. It’s like getting a dementor visit every month at the very least.

And yet after bleeding for about 21 years now (yeah sure go ahead and try computing how old I am in years, I am not even minding that lol) only a few periods ago did I just got an epiphany on how important it is to enjoy the entire process of having periods, and even coming out more alive in the process. It kinda sucks that I got the information a tad too late but if this helps more ladies who are still struggling on that aspect, I hope this helps you, or at the very least eases some discomfort of some sort.

No I am not just talking about the easing of the cramps and the tenderness of the entire body as it releases a lot of blood and linings. Well, not just that but more on the spiritual side of periods. If you have been following this blog, you’ll probably see that most of my posts are about energetic releases, shadow work, healing the self, etc. and most of these processes are around the same time as the full moon. You’ll see that my posts on full moons are mostly focusing on releasing things that no longer serve, since it is more beneficial to the body and soul to let go of so much excess baggage.

Energetically, full moons can either be a time to supplement aka manifest or to release, depending on how a person resonates with the full moon energy. For the longest time since I started my awakening journey, I have always associated the full moon with release as well as clearing, and the new moon for manifesting things. But during the Gemini full moon of 2019, I randomly did something that I have not done ever, and that is to tune in to my emotions during my period. Maybe it was intuitive, maybe I just got bored with the pain, or I was just desperately trying to forget this guy I got infatuated with because the connection just got cut and I felt nothing yet I feel guilty at the same time. So instead of focusing on the physical pain and the weird scenarios my brain just started feeding my thoughts, I started asking my body what it wants me to know. And I just got intuitive nudges to start clearing my womb.

Yeah, right, like it wasn’t doing it already. A whole lot of blood loss isn’t enough?

Well, I have been using binaural beats to heal parts of my body for a time longer than I have been awake, so yeah sure why not, I told myself. So I did, I found a womb-clearing meditation on YT, which was originally meant to heal the symptoms of PCOS but honestly I just listened to it to reduce the pelvic pain and cramps. I believed it to be so, and I felt a lot better after listening. I even get to sleep soundly that night, which is a rarity whenever I get periods because I get some form of insomnia or shallow sleeping.

But come morning and MORE PAIN CAME BACK. It just hurt so much more than it did the previous day. And what’s more is that I just started to release more and more uhm, linings and membranes, and that just hurt so much I actually wanted to die. I was off any form of medication so I wasn’t taking any painkiller, and not even my red tea was consumed. I was just drinking a lot of charged water and that’s about it. What’s even more scary is that my empath mode was more amped up than usual and I kept getting too much stuff, it was just too much, like a hellish emotional rollercoaster ride. There was just no way to escape it.

And I started to tell my body to get rid of all the stuff that has been anchoring in my energies and causing me so much pain. I also did a lot of cord-cutting (good-bye, crush-sempai lol) and cord-cut everything and anything that started to trigger my anger and sadness and all the low-vibrational stuff. I cord-cut the people who deliberately hurt me, the people who unknowingly hurt me, and the stupid things I did that hurt me. Just all of the painful stuff. I asked my body to just flush those things out of my body because I have too much stuff to worry about. By the time the full moon came I was already physically exhausted and I was so tired I actually did the actual spell-casting release ritual two days after.

This process of releasing a whole truckload of spiritual and energetic gunk was quite draining, but after doing the full-moon release as well as listening to the track to help with the pelvic pain and cramps, by the last day of my period I actually felt a lot better, and even more amazing is that aside from the cramps finally disappearing even if I was still releasing some blood, some of the emotional triggers disappeared along with it. By the time Christmas time came, during the Capricorn new moon I was still feeling the effects of the womb clearing. I was a bit more resilient with the emotional triggers, despite the fact that I was still being my empathic self. It was like the emotions don’t cut so deep anymore, and if I intend to release and cord-cut, it actually does its job. I was actually feeling the positive effects of cord-cutting, finally. It didn’t use to be that effective before, but a lot of the negative emotional anchors were like, 50% less effective and therefore it was a lot more noticeable when my energies were returned to me. This felt so new to me, and it made me quite happy, but still a bit doubtful.

I thought this feeling of release was a fluke so I tried this method again when I got my period on January 2020. I started setting the intention of releasing a lot of the emotional and energetic garbage and hoping that by the time my period ends I would feel a whole lot better. I also listened to the womb-clearing track again, daily, and again, my pelvic area started getting more painful cramps, again. But that time, the cramps stopped by the middle of the period, so even if I was still doing some form of energetic and emotional release, I could feel a weird sense of clarity. The even weirder thing is that I started to remember stuff that I probably stuffed somewhere in my subconscious. They were mostly the painful garbage and beliefs. I decide there and then to purge them out of my system while I was still bleeding the heck out. Once more, my body started to move out a lot of the linings and membranes and boy oh boy the pain just won’t stop. But I still did my best to release as much as I could, just solely relying on what triggers come up. I was also having anxiety because I have to meet some old friends from highschool and to be honest I was not in my best shape, mentally and physically. I just did my best to purge whatever has been bugging me, just to assert my power. I had no idea what would happen next, and I did not expect to feel something different.

Normally whenever I felt like being in a state of limbo and not knowing what I should be doing it just keeps me in a depressed state. But after my period finished, I started trusting the universe, a little more than usual. I was also feeling a sense of empowerment, I just went with the flow and started listening to affirmations, subliminals, the whole works. I started manifesting free online webinars which seem to support my intent of healing and improvement. The emotional triggers also started to loosen up and I was able to take back a lot of my time spent in ruminating in anger and envy. 

I felt so much freer than I was before the limiting programmings started.

I was so happy with the results, but again, I told myself that I need a third time of doing this in order to be empirical and be statistically sound. Also to remove the emotional highs and attachments of the results I got. 

Come February, a month later, my period didn’t come as scheduled. I thought it was that time of the year that I skip a month, so I just let go and enjoyed the extra time of not worrying about bleeding. I also started to consciously release emotional triggers, heal energetically, listen to more subliminal tracks, and I felt like I was really, really reaching a huge breakthrough. But then the Mercury retrograde came and I became a huge emotional wreck again. I started crying more than usual, and the triggers just kept getting stronger by the hour. It was like hell on earth 3.0 and everything just keeps crashing on top of the other. The more annoying thing was that all of the stuff that I thought I already dealt with came popping up again. The emotional triggers were super-strong and I just spent each night crying and crying. It was hell-hole everyday and I could just feel the need to end it all come closer and closer. But I forgot to do stuff and I got another intuitive nudge again.

I almost forgot to release all of the garbage that needed to go, so when I remembered to energetically cord-cut myself from all of the stuff that needed to be let go of, I just kept doing it. I also started to clear my room on a regular basis, aside from clearing my own energetic field. I enhanced the energetic seals in my room so that I would stop absorbing low-vibrational energies, and I guess it was 50% effective, which was a lot better than nothing. It just helped my clearing sessions because then I stopped absorbing other people’s stuff, so I could clear more of my own stuff and transmute them so other people won’t absorb anything. And with such stuff in my personal world, my womb got triggered so after a month and a half of delay it started wanted to release a lot of stuff. It did hurt a lot but I still did my best to listen to the womb-clearing track in the event that I was eventually getting my period, and two days after that weird nudge the blood and lining started. I’m like excited at this point because I felt like I could magnify the amount that can be released once I started bleeding out.

I was not disappointed.

All of the triggers that popped up I placed a strong intent to get released through my blood flow. It felt great afterwards, despite the pelvic pain every now and then. I actually felt more in tune with what I needed to release, so instead of getting angry whenever something from my past pops up, I just bless the event and release the heck out of it. The triggers kept coming and I just did my best to release. I even maxed out doing emotion code because of the mysterious aches and pains that came along with the period. The scarier thing that happened, well creepy is a bit more applicable, I was just sitting and listening to womb clearing tracks and some really painful areas would spring up, and I wasn’t even doing anything, pain would just come. I had to energetically work on those without moving, just to make sure that they’re not due to physical pain. Sure enough, after listening to the tracks the pain would disappear. For the stubborn ones I just do some kundalini yoga or just simple movement to move the energy out and they just disappear. I also started massaging the spots I can reach with some liniment. So far I am still doing that but I could manage it better than having to confront the emotions head-on, I just end up crying and telling all of my guides to just let me cry and fall asleep, even if my eyes swell in the morning. Weirdly I felt a whole lot better in the morning when I wake up, even if I can’t open my eyes lol.

Of course, the dark side of this is that pushing too much to purge more can really drain the physical body, and it also means that more layers get to be released, which one may or may not be prepared for. Because I wanted to purge and get rid of so much energetic garbage so much, I ended up releasing more layers than I intended to, and suddenly issues from 8 years ago and older started popping up. Those were even more challening because again, I thought I already dealt with them and then the emotionally-charged memories came rushing back in. It just felt horrible. I have never felt so lonely and out of luck and in despair than the previous months. Honestly the only thing I could do then was to ask my body to release everything that needs to be released. I already ran out of options and I just felt so cornered and disconnected to everything.

I just basically fueled my need to release with whatever emotion I was feeling at that moment. Feeling envious of other people? Release that crap. Feeling angry due to abandonment issues? Release that crap. Feeling sorry for looking ugly? Release that crap. I just did my best to keep doing that over and over. I also sent Reiki to myself just to give myself some ease. I also binge-watched some light language videos, did some japa chanting, started revising some of my memories, or those that I can manage, and started doing my best to enter a lucid state when dreaming. I mean, I was bleeding a lot and sleeping a lot so might as well get some work done lol. I guess it worked to a greater degree than usual because aside from releasing things in layers, I also got to enter the earliest memories that needed to be healed. Again, not a fun job but I am the only one who has to do the heavy grunt work and rely a lot of the energetics to the higher dimensional realms. I already ran out of rope so I just did whatever I could. The feelings of releasing low vibrational stuff helped me get some better sleep, and I was starting to reconnect again.

I may have been enjoying the whole purging too much, my period extended for two days than the usual. LIke, I thought it was already over so I thought I was OK, but I was still purging and releasing and listening to various tracks, then I’d get surprised by more stuff popping out. It did got a bit annoying but I just tried to think and believe that I get to purge even more that way. It finally stopped and I actually felt a whole lot better. A lot of my triggers also left me, so I just had to focus more on the basic emotions that needed to be healed. I felt so much lighter, and that was a week ago. So for this past week I just continued to purge and release, especially the horrible self-sabotage and self-anger that has been causing me issues for a long time. But I think that the most important healing I got to unlock is that I started finding out the emotional patterns in my DNA and the stuff I needed to release further. So instead of doing just 10 minutes of emotion code, I ended up doing it for 2 hours. Doing these also made me ran out of energy and got exhausted for two days. Not gonna complain since now it’s easier to see patterns and heal and release them. I just hope it continues toward the future.

Just to make sure that I am doing something substantial, I am planning to do the same stuff on my next menstrual cycle. For now I am just enjoying that a lot of the chunky and dense stuff is already over. Maybe I ‘ll make an update post after 3 more months lol.

To sum up this entire post: Release emotions and energies during your periods to make the process even faster.

If you reached this part of the post, congratulations, and thank you for reading. I hope the information in here helps you in your journey towards finding your true self and manifesting your best possible life.

May you become the healing you seek.

三日月🌙

Mikazuki

PS. If you found the information in this post to be very helpful, insightful, and of great value to you and your own personal journey, please feel free to reblog, share and heart/like, or if you feel super-generous, energetic exchanges are welcomed! Please click here. Thank you so much and be blessed!