#that man can’t write in a journal because it feels to vulnerable

[eiraeths]

ghost wears the mask because he has the type of hypervigilance that gives him a fear of being perceived

[icanlife]

Very tired of people who continue to argue that Bill destroying Euclydia was completely on purpose and he didn’t care about anyone at all because he’s just trying to garner sympathy in The Book of Bill, despite all the supporting evidence outside of Bill’s words that allude to how deeply traumatic it was, (so many, many things about) how he loved and misses his parents, how much of a sore spot the topic is for him, how much he wants to return home but can’t, etc. in addition to how perfectly Alex and co. crafted a parallel narrative between Bill and Ford, including how they hurt the people they love out of carelessness and blind pursuit of their dreams, justifying to themselves that the people they hurt just couldn’t understand

Yes, Bill is an unreliable narrator, and that includes all the very obvious posturing that he did it all on purpose and it was actually a very good thing, that everyone loved him, that he’s NOT incarcerated or anything and that he’s still a really all-powerful being, etc etc etc. To fully believe that EVERY vulnerability he reveals is an evil manipulation tactic, and not actual character writing, you have to interpret his very prevalent denial of weakness, which continues into the conclusion of the book where he already knows he’s lost the reader and is still denying any emotional needs or trauma, as itself a lie.

There’s a reason why the Pines family cracked open this book and laughed at Bill, calling him a fractured, pathetic mess.

The Book of Bill has a plot, a great plot, and great character writing. It’s a crazy companion to Journal 3, Ford’s story. Parallel stories, but where one ends with someone healing from their trauma, coming to terms with one’s mistakes and accepting the need for human love and relationships, the other ends with one stuck forever in their layers and layers of denial, never acknowledging their own trauma, never acknowledging their need for human companionship, grasping in desperate need at their continued facade of hating to love and loving to hurt.

Bill isn’t an always-in-control sly master of the mind, he’s a delusional and desperate man, fractured by his own trauma, who will continue to hurt others to prove that he’s in control. I’m tired of the false narrative that abusers can’t have trauma, aren’t people, giving them this otherworldly status above all humanity. Aside from not being narratively or societally productive, it undermines the ending and message of the book. Acknowledging Bill’s brokenness gives his victims POWER over him. The fact that Bill needs Ford, but Ford doesn’t need Bill is powerful. Them laughing at his desperation is powerful. Looking at someone who once seemed untouchable to you and realizing they’re just a suffering meat sack like any other human being is powerful.

The ending of The Book of Bill is the demystification of Bill. The book is a real look into his mind, telling a story that’s actually very tragic. It’s a very real story, a cautionary tale. You’re not being manipulated or tricked if you feel bad, it’s a very intentional writing decision that this ending elicits that dark pity, as he desperately fades away (arts and crafts materials confiscated) saying that he’s FINE.

So yeah, The Book of Bill and the website are a masterwork of the character, I love them, they’re incredible, and I don’t want to see such a tight character story discredited as “you can’t believe ANY of it!”

[lunarbuck]

Anything/Everything

a/n: this is literally incoherent rambling... sorry. this is mostly just coming from the fact that i feel very lost rn so sorry in advance for that

not beta'd and barely edited, any and all mistakes are my own

bucky barnes & f!reader (any race) have a conversation on a fire escape

no warnings apply

my masterlist  | @lunarbucklibrary

The air is crisp and cold as you climb out the window and onto the fire escape. The metal railing is cool against your palms, grounding you to the moment. There’s too much smog in the city to see any stars other than the North Star. 

Tonight, just like every night, you make a wish. You wish for things to be different, for someone to come sweep you off your feet and take you to Neverland. To take you away from all of this. And tonight, just like every night, you know that won’t happen. That doesn’t keep you from wishing, though. From gazing up at that bright ball of light in the smoky sky and wishing with all your might, for someone. Anyone, to come save you.

Your fire escape is small, but there’s enough room for a little picnic chair, which you settle into after making your wish. The sounds of the city echo and muddle together into a familiar symphony, the background to your nightly ruminating. 

There’s just enough light coming from your bedroom window to journal by, and though summer is fading to fall, you can bear the cooler temperatures for long enough to do tonight’s entry. You pop the cap off your pen, flip to an open page and jot down the date. 

Just as you start writing your entry, you hear the familiar sound of boots on the fire escape below you. You don’t need to peek down to know who it is. Well, technically, you don’t know his name, but you know his face. Those piercing blue eyes, that dimpled chin. 

He moved in last month but no one in the building knows his name. He’s like a ghost. But you’ve come to think of him as your ghost, since every night, he comes out just like you do. You’ve come up with your own story of him, that he’s wishing on the stars just like you are. That he’s just as lost, just as confused, as you are. 

You return your focus to your journal, scratching out your thoughts as they pour out of your head. You’re so focused that you miss the ghost from downstairs walking up toward you. You miss him taking a seat a few steps away from the top. You miss the way his familiar blue eyes trace your features, committing them to memory, and the small smile that graces his lips for just a moment.

“What do you wish for?” He asks, his voice cutting through the night. You jolt. The timbre of his voice makes you shiver, it sends electricity sparking through every nerve in your body.

All you can do is stare at the ghostly man in front of you.

“What do you wish for,” he asks again, this time more gently. 

“Anything,” you whisper.

“What do you write about?” You tip your head from the man up to the sky.

“Everything.” Silence falls between the two of you before you take a deep breath, returning your gaze to the man. “How did you know I was making wishes?” A whisper of a grin that disappears as quickly as it came crosses his lips.

“Because I’m making wishes too.” If this was anyone else, you’d make a joke, break the fierce tension that’s fallen in the space between you and the ghost. But you can’t help but feel like he can see right through you, right down to your soul.

Now, it’s your turn to ask, “What do you wish for?”

His eyes trace your face leaving a burning trail in their wake. “Someone.”

You slide off your chair, letting the chill of metal seep through your pajama pants. The ghost stays put.

“Who?” His blue eyes shift to your surroundings, the sky, eventually settling on the moon.

“I’m not sure anymore.” This moment, so full of vulnerability, makes your throat tighten. “I lost him a long time ago, I think. I guess I just thought he’d come back. He always came back.” The ghost in front of you looks more human with every passing second.

His dark hair, clipped close on the sides, is ruffled like he can’t stop running his fingers through it. His shirt is wrinkled and has signs of loose threads at the seams from years of wear and work. His eyes crinkle in the corners, frown lines litter his forehead. 

“I hope your wish comes true,” you reply, meaning it. The ghost shakes his head.

“It won’t, but thank you.” 

“So why do you keep wishing if you know it won’t come true?”

“Just in case.”

Just in case. 

“My wishes never come true,” you confess. “But I can’t stop myself from coming out here anyways, I can’t help but feel the pull.” The ghost nods his understanding.

“Just in case.”

“Just in case.” Your eyes lock with his, and for a moment, you feel the world stop spinning. You feel time freeze. Everything slows, blurs, disappears, until it is just you and him.

“Who are you?” He whispers, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know anymore,” you reply. “Who are you?” You barely even hear the words as they leave your lips.

“I’m trying to remember.”

I am discontinuing my taglist. please follow @lunarbucklibrary and turn on notifications to be notified when I post new fics.

[ghcstao3]

this came to me in a dream but i saw a artist!soap/civilian!ghost post-breakup au sometime last month and it hasn’t left my head because think of the Angst!! like. imagine ghost still having paint stains on his otherwise spotless hardwood floors from where soap used to station his easel. or soap locking away his sketchbook dedicated to just ghost’s face because of his strict no photos rule. actually foaming at the mouth thinking of soap’s journal allll the time

this was good practice because Man i do not write angst often. but in any case! i adored this prompt

-

Simon had been naive to think that there wouldn’t be remnants of Johnny left behind in his home after they’d broken up.

He thinks, looking back, that maybe it had only been some sort of pathetic hope to make it less painful, that he could return home and not have to remember in any part everything Johnny that had invaded over the years. That had infected and melded with Simon until each of their lives had become unrecognizable from the other.

Of course, Simon isn't so lucky. Because in no world is Johnny so easily forgettable, especially not after years of intimacy, or vulnerability. Not after years of real, horribly profound love.

The breakup had been deemed mutual, but it hardly feels that way most days. For the best feels like a complete lie, in retrospect.

Simon forces himself to move on, though. He can’t dwell on emptied spaces and a silence far too loud. He can’t cling to memories of domesticity and the belief that it’d last forever. Simon doesn’t get to have those things. He's not sure why he ever thought that Johnny would be the exception to everything before.

It still hurts seeing the permanent marks left behind in his home, however.

He tries his best to stop thinking about Johnny, and he succeeds for the most part—until he does stupid things like wanting to rearrange the furniture in what had been Johnny’s spaces, and discovers with a bitter fondness splotches of long-since dried paint neither of them had ever thought to clean because there would be more in the future. Because there was meant to be more in the future.

And as he sits on the floor for the first time in months truly missing Johnny, contemplating whether it’d be worth mustering the courage to scrub the floor of these remains, Simon wonders if Johnny has been managing any better than he has.

Probably, Simon thinks miserably. He’s always been the better man.

- - - - -

Immediately after their breakup, Johnny keeps himself together better than anyone thought he’d be able to.

Because they all thought he and Simon were madly in love. And they were, for a while. But things always change, though, don’t they?

As time passes, however, and Johnny settles into a life without Simon for the first time in a very long time, moving on grows increasingly difficult. He’s a mess, quite honestly, as put together as he appears to everyone else.

It’s with anger that he believes Simon is doing better, after everything. Because he’d never been as weak as Johnny. Because he wouldn’t have to think twice about throwing out what isn’t his, unlike Johnny—who cannot stand the thought of looking at old sketches of Simon, but is just as reluctant to burn those final bridges and toss out every journal reminiscent of a life he’ll never live again. Who wants to rip those pieces to shreds but continue to treasure them all the same.

He finds a box. An unmarked, nondescript cardboard box. He packs away every journal he'd dedicated to Simon, tapes the box shut, and hides it in his attic among boxes almost exactly alike. He never labels it, not wanting to offer any more power to those journals—but Johnny can never fully bring himself to forget.

Its presence still gets shoved to the very back corners of his mind. Then finally, finally he can breathe. Finally he can leave those final pieces of what he had with Simon behind.

Johnny is foolish to think that, though. Because he had forgotten just how much of his life, his art had been occupied by Simon. Johnny still sees Simon in so much of what he's created, what he continues to create.

And when he stumbles across one of the first sketches he'd drawn of Simon, in a notebook not separate for the man like all the others, Johnny has to sit and wonder just where they had went wrong.

[femmefatalevibe]

hi! i hope you’re doing well. i was wondering if you might have some words of wisdom/advice for me.

i broke up with my boyfriend of eight months last night. long story short, he was an incredibly respectful and loving partner, but i just felt like i wasn’t going to be able to grow and discover myself to the fullest extent while in a relationship. i thought about it for a while and made the really difficult decision that i had to do some work on myself before a relationship could truly be safe for me (i have a tendency to people-please to a dangerous extent).

but i can’t help but feel terribly at the way i must have hurt him by ending the relationship. as i said, he never did me any harm, and he was also incredibly understanding when i ended things (kept telling me that i needed to do whatever it took to be happy), but i know that my decision was really out of the blue and hurt him greatly. i consider this man to be one of my best friends, even if i don’t think it’s the right time for me to be in a romantic relationship, and i’m struggling to cope with the fact that i just dealt a lot of hurt to somebody that i care so strongly for. i’m hoping that in time we’ll be able to be friends again, because i would hate to lose him from my life entirely, but he must be dealing with a lot himself.

do you… have any advice for how to cope with this? i apologize if this is not your typical ask, but i’m just struggling to deal with the fallout that comes with making a difficult- but right- decision for oneself. anyways, thank you for reading, and i appreciate it.

Hi love! First of all, I want to applaud you on your strength, self-awareness, and vulnerability. I can tell that you handle yourself with the utmost class and self-respect, which is truly admirable!

While it's easier said than done, remember that you saved both of you from a lot of toxicity by being honest with him and yourself and breaking off the relationship when you realized you no longer will be able to fully invest in it. It is completely normal to feel hurt by a breakup, but it is WAY worse to hurt someone you love unintentionally – with little to no explanation – due to your own wounds, traumas, or critical inner voice. You did the kindest thing that you could given the cards you had to play. Allow yourself to grieve – journal about it if it helps – and give yourself a pat on the back for handling this situation with maturity, mutual respect, and class.

Once you have some time to work through the breakup (either with a journal, trusted social support, and/or a therapist), attempt to reflect on the areas of life you're seeking to explore without the responsibilities and energies necessary for a healthy romantic relationship. Make a list of these goals and under each goal or activity, write out a few simple action steps you can take to get started on these new pursuits.

Hope this helps xx

[thatweirdfandom]

been on tumblr since i was almost 14 i’m turning 25 now here’s things i know now and keep to my heart

- communicate with people even if it’s really really hard, going through the hard shit and trying to at least communicate is better then leaving things when it gets rough. if you care, if you want change, if you want something better communicate it

- the internet is going through something (often) about people not being able to grow, make mistakes, or learn from mistakes. stop using critical therapy words to describe something it isn’t. please use the time to understand the words people use in therapy are not to be something that is used to accuse outright. feel emotions, understand emotions, don’t assume intent of hurt.

-journaling as annoying as everyone said it is- helps - not magically but it gets that static of emotions and anxiety out and onto a book i don’t care about for the rest of the day

-hobbies are so important, baking, making tea, brewing coffee, felting all that jazz. despite the notion of society you can enjoy time alone you are allowed it, without worry and having to work for someone else

- therapy is a luxury- if someone can’t afford it don’t pass judgment, don’t try and give them therapy. be a friend, empathize in your way and comfort. telling someone they should just move out, should just quit- none of those are options many have. understand that everyone has a complicated situation.

-invest in physical media, i mean most are getting this fact now but man you don’t own any of your media you buy online, that you stream. and in seconds it can be gone forever. reading physical books has given me something personal.

-you are going to have really bad years, months, weeks, days, ect where you find yourself lost, trapped and falling into bad habits. and maybe you won’t be able to get out for a long time. but those that stay- the ones that wait, patient for you? that tell you you’ve done wrong that they need a change and you are finally in a place to do that- that you work hard for them and others in your life that they are still there in the end because they want a future in your life and believe you can grow and be better- those moments are important and hold on to it. not everyone is willing to go through that and that’s ok don’t let it slow you but show you a drive- a want to be someone happy and growth

- SPEAKING OF BOOKS: write in them, fold the pages, break the backs, highlight the shit out of it. leave your record of existence in them, that the book is well loved, well read

- i realized i carried one single trauma from a really bad relationship to all my others after out of fear. i was young and didn’t know a lot, i was sheltered and extremely vulnerable. i realized later then i should have that i have had so many wonderful relationships there after, and i was too focused on something that happened at my most vulnerable point of my life. i have had relationships with friends from 10 years, 6 years and so on now- and i can still reach out to them

-don’t try and make a therapy session out of talking with friends. experience emotions have authentic conversations that yes are hard to have that are scary- don’t build walls and use language that becomes therapy speak. you often will see what is missing- that you start to assume things of others without talking it through freely without feeling you need to sound like a english major that has edited three attempted essays- i’ve done this and i’ve had it done to me. i just i miss having conversations that don’t feel like i’m in court. emotions and being emotional is natural and we shouldn’t shy away and desensitize ourselves

- you will hurt people, people you deeply care about, people you love. and you won’t be given the chance to rectify, to “fix” things. and that’s ok. what you need to know and understand and hold on to is that when this happens, you grow from it. learn to not hurt someone you care about the way you did, understand what you did was wrong, grow to be someone that can be better then your past

-endings are something that happen, they are filled with unimaginable grief. loss of person through death is another story in itself. but the ones that are more often- you don’t find urself healing or having a conclusion like others. the ending of media, a good book, a project, school even. and relationships platonic or not. i think i’ve learned to love what i had, every single moment that i had something in my life, it’s ended but it’s shaped me, i grew with whatever it was.

- don’t fall into main character syndrome spiral- yes you are you at the centre, but you don’t need big things, bad things to happen to you to have empathy from others, you don’t need to dive into something right away, it makes it hard to live fully. instead of feeling like you are fulfilling a story narrative you have seen in media or otherwise

-you will never have enough time, it really sucks. it’s going to take long time to accept, you won’t be too late, you aren’t last place, go at your pace and explore what you can

[magistars]

bakugo ‘motherfucking’ katsuki,

who simply texts ‘let’s hang out’ and expects you to be free, takes long walks after training to warm down, can never really shake off the heat, has bubbling insecurity about his sweat… who presses his forehead to the cool parts of your body in those quiet moments, nibbles your shoulder and neck in private, will never admit he loves when the tips of your fingers graze his scalp, shifting and caressing his blonde locks, the motion lulling him to sleep…

todoroki ‘mommy issues’ shoto,

who seems to dislike any display of vulnerability in those early days, will feel sparks when your hand grazes his and shies away from a potential fire, holding you at such a distance you can feel a breeze in between, breaks through the ice with gentle brushes against your shoulder, a simple finger wiping tears from your cheek… who lets you ignite him if you promise to be gentle, closes the distance when he finally feels safe enough, drops pieces of bread into the pond with you to feed the fishes, does not feel summer or winter anymore; with you, it’s always spring…

kirishima ‘the perfect man’ eijiro,

who listens to you ramble with one palm pressed to his cheek, the other resting quietly on your forearm, points out cute animals on the street if you don’t get to it first, loudly, sulks like a puppy when you’re gone too long… who always feels proud in his role as protector but fawns when you defend him, smells of cinnamon apple and sweat, is the first one to make you laugh the last one to make you cry, will hold you up to the big blue sky because you are his sunshine…

uraraka ‘sweet pea’ ochaco,

who brings more food to lunch so she can share with you, just you, will craft little octopi out of the sausage in your bento, holds your feet with a blush on her cheeks as you do sit ups, places a kiss to your forehead when your muscles get tight and you come up for the last time, gingerly holds your hand in the moments you can’t find strength… who rolls up in a blanket burrito and crashes into your lap, listens to you read, makes pinky promises and always, always intends to keep them…

midoriya ‘will I ever confess’ izuku,

who has so much tender passion for you it’s hard to keep from flooding out, bounces his leg rapidly to calm his nerves, will treasure you from afar till you make a move, please be gentle, nearly dies when you cup his cheeks with both your hands or place your palm under his chin, sinks into your touch like he’ll never get another chance… who writes about you in his journal, a lot, maybe doodles you from time to time, is never afraid to proclaim his love for you, gifts you his hoodie instead of waiting for it to be taken just to see you in it, dreams of your wedding one night and wakes up with tears…

[rinnysega]

Hi! Can you tell us about Gus? I can’t concentrate very long on reading but I’d like to know about him!!

It’s ok! And I know my chapters can run long 😅 you’re absolutely fine!

In short, here’s a quick rundown on Gustavo:

1. He is the son of a brick maker named Jorge Pinheiro. He once had two older brothers but they were taken when the Pinheiros had to leave their home before joining Pedro’s group. Gus was roughly 2 at time and is their only surviving child.

2. Gus’ dad and Chepe’s dad are friends due to their hardworking laboring nature, so from an early age, Gus and Chepe were forced to hang out together. Gus as a child was very shy and meek which Jorge hated. He hoped a rambunctious kid like Chepe would essentially peer pressure him into conforming into what a boy should be. On that same note, Chepe’s dad hoped Gus would be a good influence on Chepe and make him more empathetic and kind. Spoiler alert: It didn’t. The boys just fought all the time and Chepe’s anger rubbed off on Gus. So Gus grew into a bully as a preteen/teen.

3. During Gus’ preteen and early teen years, he was Bruno’s bully (which was Chepe’s influence as well as just being generally dissatisfied with life). In The Precipice, Bruno confronts him to prove to himself he is a good Madrigal and it ends with him getting his first same sex crush.

4. During their teen years, Bruno kept a journal writing fanfic of him and Gus being a romantic couple without Gus’ knowledge. It was his way coping with new budding feelings. In the AU he lets go of these feelings over time and no longer has an interest in him anymore than just a friend.

5. Bruno has a vision that Gus will fall off the edge of a great cliff. In the Precipice, that comes to fruition in one way while in the Rough Love AU, it happens in another. In the AU he has his fall when he is 33 and is left permanently disabled - his right leg and hip are irreparable. He did not get to Julieta in time to heal this injury. He was stranded in the jungle with his injury for several days before being discovered and carried to the village.

6. Gus wants to be a painter and an artist. After his injury, and he cannot do the work his father demands of him, he follows his calling and creates his own art studio. (We headcanon he is the one who painted the Madrigal mural from the film)

7. He and Chepe have a complicated relationship that will be explored in the Lethal Amigos fic coming soon. But for now, he is his only friend that he can be open and vulnerable to because Gus is loyal to him and he knows he would never hurt him. This annoys Jose who wishes Chepe could be that way for him.

8. Fun Fact - Gus was the best man at both of Chepe’s weddings!

That’s all I have for now ❤️

[thebadboyfanclub]

It’s Alright Darling (Sherlock x Reader)

Ok... Was this requested? No. Am I writing it cause anything Henry Cavill related makes me feel happy? Yes. Enjoy!

Being Sherlock Holmes assistant was something a lot of people would kill for and that makes it even better if you think about the irony of it. However, since Sherlock wasn’t a normal person to mostly everything he did, he had decided to hire a woman as his assistant, Mycroft called him mad and unhinged almost every time he brought up her name. (Y/n) was one of the most intelligent people he had ever been around, combining that with a charming personality was the recipe to success.

“Well, well, well I see my brother is full of surprises”

“Hello there Mycroft is so nice to see you again as well”

She spoke in an clearly ironic tone as she took of her gloves, she was never a fan of hats other than the occasions she knew she would be under the sun for hours. As she walked in the living room area for what seemed like their childhood home, Sherlock had requested for (y/n) to arrive a day later than the brothers, knowing that her and his older brother were like oil and water he chose to “prepare the grounds” first.

“Where is the young little Holmes?”

“Inside, talking with miss Harrison”

“Alright... who is miss Harrison?”

“Miss Harrison is an excellent teacher and a friend of mine, come to think of it maybe you should go in and ask her to take you as well... you might be a bit old but I’m sure she can make an exception”

Mycroft found (y/n) intolerant, she was dismissive, unladylike, mouthy and a feminist, he still does not understand what asset do she brought to his younger brother. She only smiled while sitting at one of the chairs

“I will let you know I was an excellent student in all my academic achievements, although I suppose you were one as well that doesn’t really prove someone’s intelligence or manners, right mister Holmes?”

Sherlock let a laugh be heard at (y/n)’s quick response, even though he would never take sides and sometimes wanted them to get along, he had accepted that it would never happen and simply enjoyed the situation.

“Amused brother? Of course you are as mad as her since you didn’t only hire her, you kept her around and brought her in my home”

“Now Now mister Holmes, what type of gentleman would you be if you threaten to through out not just a lady but your younger brothers guest, unfortunately you are just further proving my point about our little quarrel”

Before he had the chance to respond a young girl walked in, wearing a white undergarment dress and looking disheveled. The girl who (y/n) could only assume was the infamous Enola didn’t even notice her being in this room.

“No, don’t do this to me. Let me remain happy, I am happy here”

“You are a young woman now Enola, you need an education”

“Test me, on anything you think I need to know in order to be sufficient for this world”

“If she taught you so well, you wouldn’t be standing in your undergarment in front of me”

Silence fell in the room for a quick second. His disgusting answer to his own sister made (Y/n) get on her feet, Enola quickly let her gaze fall on the young woman that was now in her house.

“Why is that a problem Mister Holmes? Undergarments are scandalous for the men when a woman they are interested in wears them, she is your underaged sister”

“This is a family matter, it does not- I repeat- does not concern you”

“Of course it does not concern me, but it does concern me when a young girl is being held accountable for walking in her home, to her brothers, completely covered and still being shamed for it”

Enola understood by that quick argument the lady was not here because of Mycroft, so it only meant she was Sherlocks company, she is not his wife since if not invited he would have at least informed their mother, so perhaps a girlfriend?

“Enola you have no hopes of making a husband out of your state, neither do you... miss (y/l/n)”

“I don’t want a husband”

Enola claimed, raising her voice at the ridiculous claim her brother made. Even though they haven’t been properly introduced they had developed a mutually liking for each other, at a brief look they seemed to have the same outlook on life.

“And that is another thing you need to have educated out of you”

At that Enola turned to look at her other brother, Sherlock, who had remained radio silent throughout this entire conversation. Enola kneeled in front of him, as Sherlock looked at her and then broke eye contact to look down at the book he was holding.

“Sherlock, Don’t let him do this to me”

“You are his ward”

“Make me yours. Guide me. Teach me. For him I am nuisance. For you-”

“Enola. I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands”

“Just like his cruelty to our mother was out of your hands”

Cruelty to their mother? No, Sherlock would have never allowed his mother to go through anything, he is a man of honor... isn’t he? (Y/n) felt her stomach tighten as she saw this tragic scene unravel, she hoped Sherlock would have accepted and took her in.

“She is not dangerous. She is remarkable and always has been. And if you still can’t see that then shame on you both”

“So remarkable she left you in my care”

Mycroft shot back. (Y/n) could almost feel the pain the young girl felt, you could see it in her eyes how that was an arrow straight in her heart. (Y/n) decided to step up and try to help, she approached the young girl with a kind smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here to calm down. Seems like your brothers don’t share the same love and admiration you do for the woman that made them who they are”

“I am a self made successful man”

“but you wouldn’t be no man if the woman you frown upon had not broken her hips and went through hours of painful labor. Take that as some food for thought before you school me on my manners”

Sherlock looked at her in awe, as she stood proudly next to his sister and became the shield he should have been. Standing up for a girl you haven’t even spoken to or knew before this.

“Let’s go young Enola, seems like a woman’s presence is wanted here only when she does as she is told”

-

“Come in”

“Can I open this door and be promised that I will remain safe or are you holding a dagger and you are ready to take me out of this world?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dagger you in your own household? I would probably wait to poison you a few days after we leave and write the paperwork of you firing me”

He smiled at her plan as he closed the door in her room. It was already nightfall and the only light here were a few candles, he had let her take a breather after the unfortunate event that had occurred previously. Even though he wasn’t the one that she went toe to toe with, his silence was as obnoxious to her as his brothers loud ignorance towards the female gender.

“You are upset”

“Of course not, why would I be? It’s not like you let that man embarrass his own sibling and talk down to his mother without her being in the room”

She had remained sited in the chair next to the table, a book open that seemed like she was writing on rather than reading it. He was aware she was holding a journal, he didn’t blame her for it, having a job like she did she was in desperate need of something to keep her sane.

“This is a very wary subject”

“I am aware of it, I just can’t seem to understand why not comfort her, try to change your brothers opinion, anything that will show you care for her, you do care for her, right Sherlock?”

“She is my baby sister (y/n), that’s a given”

She closed her book. She ran her hand through her  through her hair and got up from her sit, her hands going in front of her torso at a defensive demeanor, even when Sherlock should be cold or show his higher position to her, he couldn’t help but seek some type of truce with her, how could he not? She looked so beautiful even when she mad at him, the eyes he was so caught up in looked at him with fury, her delicate feature went harsh and she was dressed more... lightly now.

“I spoke with her earlier, she was in the garden”

“I know, I saw.”

“She asked me about you, asked me if you were my lady”

Her eyes went wide for a split second before regaining her composer and turned her back to him. She approached the window before she spoke.

“If you think of how she became familiar with me, she was probably certain I wasn’t even friends with your holier than God brother”

“You mustn't be angry at me”

“And why is that?”

“Because other than my sister and mother, I care for you and for your opinion about me”

She remained silent. Not only because she was caught off guard by his comment, she also didn’t know what he was talking about. Sherlock stepped closer to her, his steps making her heart flutter and her palms sweaty. He stopped when he was right behind her, he wanted to hug her, caress her, kiss her, still he was uncertain of how she would react.

“I still remember the night you got kidnapped”

Someone that Sherlock had helped uncover had escaped prison and kidnapped her. Luckily, she was retrieved safely yet again she was still shaken up by the scary experience, when Sherlock found her awake next to the fireplace she was so vulnerable and grateful to be alive she launched at him and kissed him passionately.

He shared his bed with her, in the middle of the night though she had gotten up and left, when morning came she acted like nothing had happened, barely even looked at him in the eyes for a week.

“Please Sherlock don’t pick at my brain”

“Why did you leave that night? Did you regret it that much”

“That night... was the most blissful I have ever been.... However you are still my boss Sherlock”

“That’s all I am to you? Your boss?”

(Y/n) turned to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. Those eyes would be the death of him, it was with no doubt the window to her soul, that pure gentle soul of hers.

“What am I to you then Sherlock? This wasn’t just about me”

“You are.... what I never knew I needed”

His hands went up to her forearms instinctively, a soft caress that made her think his hands were made out of the finest silk, she felt goosebumps as he touched her. Her lips parted slightly as she took in a heavy breath, her eyes searching for a hint of a lie in his words.

“Sherlock”

“Shhhhh, It’s alright darling. You don’t have to say anything”

At that he slowly leaned in, his lips on top of hers at a shy and gentle kiss. Her hand went to his neck, bringing her torso to touch his as the kiss deepened, her entire body felt a rush go through it as they should the passion they held for each other with this kiss. As she pulled back her fingertips traveled to his face, taking in his attractive features

“I had almost forgotten how good of a kisser you are”

“Oh love, you will never forget it ever again”

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Hi! Can you do prompt 100 for Shadowgast for the intimacy prompts please??

100. leaving love notes I don't think this is exactly what this idea is going for but whatever, this is what I wrote. Read on ao3 The weight under his arms his different now. It's uneven. His spell book is in one holster and the other is empty. The first time Caleb put his book harness back on he nearly collapsed in a panic, scrambling to find his book of letters. Then he remembered it was six feet under the ground. Without the book he feels lopsided so he buys a new journal. It's more expensive than one he would usually go for, but Veth keeps telling him to spend more money on himself. This journal, he decides, can't be about his past. Healing, that's what Caduceus says he needs to focus on. So he cracks the spin and opens the journal to the first page. Dear Essek... As the two of them travel through Aeor once more, Caleb finds himself writing in the journal nearly every night. He writes to Essek about all the things he wishes he is brave enough to say. Each page details his infatuation with the drow and his feelings of sadness because he knows deep down that he will never deserve someone like Essek. He will never deserve someone to love him that way. And then Essek kisses him. They're still in Aeor with arms full of books and papers to be carried in Caleb's amber necklace. As Caleb is casting the spell he closes his eyes to murmur the incantation. While he does, he feels Essek kneel down beside him. Caleb freezes for a moment, but keeps his eyes shut. Essek gently touches his cheek, the drow's hand cold to the touch. "Caleb?" Essek asks quietly. "Would it be alright if I kissed you?" Caleb's heart freezes in his chest. His breathing stutters for a moment, this can't be real. This is a trick. But he opens his eyes and sees Essek looking at him with the most vulnerable expression he's ever seen from the man. There's no hint of deception of mischief in his face. Caleb nods dizzily and Essek lifts one hand to the back of Caleb's neck, under his hair. Caleb lets Essek draw him in for a slow kiss. After that, Caleb writes in his journal more and more. He documents their relationship as it develops in heartfelt notes (and one incredibly sappy sonnet from when Beau got him drunk). Bit by bit, he works his way through the thick book until one night he turns to the last page and writes: Ich liebe dich, Caleb They've been together for a year now, living in Rexxentrum while Caleb teaches at the school. It's then that Caleb finally decides to give the book to Essek. Caleb sits him down on the couch, heart racing. The leather bound journal is worn and thick with writing. Essek gives him an encouraging smile and a squeeze to his hand, sensing his nerves. Caleb takes a deep breath, "This," he pats the cover, "is a journal of letters I've been writing to you since Cognoza." Essek's eyes go wide. "We both know that I'm no good at expressing my feelings verbally so I hope that this will give you some...insight into my feelings for you." "Caleb..." Essek shakes his head, eyes welling with tears. "I have no words to describe what a beautiful gift this is." Essek puts a hand on Caleb's cheek and brings their foreheads together. "Thank you." Caleb kisses his cheek and slides the book into Essek's lap. "Here. All I ask is you not judge me too harshly, especially about the earlier pages. And-And know that I am much happier now than I have ever been." Essek kisses him softly, "I love you so much." Caleb smiles, "Ich liebe dich." 125 intimacy prompts

[albelen]

book talk: Augustus

I wasn’t planning on doing this Book Talk since I didn’t know if I could properly express my feelings about Augustus and this book. 

However I binge-watched the second season of Rome because I kept seeing clips of it on YT. Simon Woods nailed the role of Octavian perfectly - his icy blue eyes, his cold and calculating demeanor mixed with instances of vulnerability and insecurity - exactly how I imagined young Augustus to be. 

Anyway, this book was definitely one of my best reads this year. Augustus frustrated me throughout the whole book, but if anything it also made me more interested in him. I’m having strong feelings for a historical figure, oh dear.

The story is told through letters, diary entries and military orders and the writing style is easy to read - although I read it in Italian. I read some reviews about people complaining how some things weren’t accurate, but the author literally claimed at the start that as much as he tried to stay true, some of the things here were merely fiction. (LOL)

Before reading this, the most I read about Octavian was about his victories and achievements, but through this book we get to see a more human side of him, we see him from the point of view of his friends, of his daughter Julia and of his enemies. 

The story was mostly told by other people, which left me a little disappointed because I wanted to read it straight from his perspective, especially from the time when he was still rising to power. It’s clear he knew he wasn’t gifted as a soldier or general, but he was a politician and a master at manipulation. 

Octavian was often sick, he was always described as sickly and pale, but with vivid blue eyes. This man survived many sickness, people thought he’d die but ended up outliving his friends and his sister. 

It’s sad to see the relationship of Octavian and Julia getting strained as the year went by. Look, I’m a huge Augustus stan here, but I find myself siding with Julia here - she did everything her father told her and after being widowed twice she had to marry someone like Tiberius. Poor Julia, she just wanted to be herself, she wanted to be in touch with her feminine and sexual side, but being the emperor’s daughter comes with a price. 

I didn’t like Tiberius here, but I never liked him anyway - what was Livia thinking, surely she must have known her son didn’t have any potential SMH

Gaius Octavian wouldn’t have become the most powerful man if it wasn’t for his friends Agrippa and Maecenas. I feel like they are often overlooked when they had done so much for their friend and Rome. You could feel the sadness Octavian felt when he lost both his friends. 

My favorite part of this book is definitely when adults like Cicero and Antony underestimated them; there were moments when I felt like reading an adventure book of these three best bros (and Salvidienus) and I’m here for it honestly.

The thing that kept me from actually binge-reading this is because every letter, every journal entry felt so intense and a little daunting - these events did actually happen two thousand years ago, these “characters” existed and they contributed so much to shaping the world as we know it.

The last part of the book was finally Octavian’s letter to an old friend, when he was near death. This was even harder to read for me, it shows you how power not only comes with responsibility and pressure, but it also comes with the awareness that you truly can’t trust anyone. I can’t stretch enough how lucky he was that Agrippa and Maecenas remained loyal to him and they didn’t have ulterior motive or goal to have the power for themselves. 

Still, he was surrounded by people who wanted him dead and it really is inevitable, just like how history have taught us. 

Even as the most powerful man, it ultimately comes to an end - death comes for everyone as Marcus Aurelius often repeated a hundred or so years later. It was heartbreaking to read Augustus telling his friend that looking back at his life, some moments he doesn’t even remember happening, some he regretted. 

I gave Augustus a five out of five stars rating. How can I not? It made me mad, frustrated and love Augustus even more. 

Please, please, please read this. Even if you’re not into history or Ancient Rome is not your favorite period, I promise it’s worth your time. 

[soup0ftheseus]

Ah yes. Here we are. I’m forced to write a non cryptic bit about my feelings because I need to actually express them like a journal and not like a dream state ripped from the pool of my thoughts.

I went out to do a multi day BDSM work shoot last week. I’ve been talking with the Top for the last couple months in preparation for the shoot, and we ended up falling for eachother.

So by the time I get there we are AMPED to get our hands on eachother. And it was incredible. I had a genuinely perfect, intensely healing, powerfully good 5 days with him.

Today I woke up absolutely paralyzed by fear. My instincts took a solid look at letting someone in and how good that felt and they said RUN.

And I’m not gonna run or burn the bridge but man I want to. I do not want this mortifying ordeal of being known. My brain says “he likes you now and even tho you are both multi partnered, YOU will be the one that is no longer attractive or shiny in the near future. YOU will be quickly replaced and discarded. You like him which gives him power over you - RUN. It always ends sad, so if you’re happy now - RUN. You’re not in too deep. You can still get out. The good feelings aren’t worth how bad it will be.”

And like what a crock. What a shame. After all this work and all this time, to see how readily the first flare of vulnerability after being alone for a year sends me straight into ripping up the carpets with my bare hands revealing all the mold and rot of insecurity underneath.

Maybe I can’t be healed. Maybe I am too broken. I don’t like to talk about myself that way. When I hear it come out of my mouth it sounds dramatic and unrealistic. But then I look at the mess of abuse and trauma that I’ve been simmering in for 33 years and I feel like healthy still seems so far away and out of reach when it comes to love.

I am really healthy nowadays, alone. I’ve got my beautiful little life growing. My safe little home. My quiet world far, far, away from where I started. I could keep it this way. I could keep it small and walled off and I could be safe and alone forever. I could do that.

I don’t want that. At least, not only that. But I don’t want to feel like this either. And one of the very things that makes this relationship appealing (long distance) is now making it feel uncomfortable and unsafe because I want him closer.

I just want to feel okay.

[yashashveeroy]

hello Roy! I'm actually so excited I hope I make it for this game kgdkgdkggd, also how are you? I hope you are doing splendid 💗

Big 3 - Pisces Rising, Virgo sun & moon

thank you sooo much for your time and energy, I hope you have a wonderful day/ night love 🖤

Hello there beautiful!! @neptuniant Time for your “Big 3” interpretation! Get ready!🥰💖

Please read the Rules regarding my “Asks/Big 3 interpretations” here before reading this piece of work.

Note: I often write intuitively for these interpretations. Not everything has to resonate with you. I may come off blunt or mean as well but I have no intention to do so.

Virgo Sun:

Ahhh another Virgo Sun successfully making their way into my world yet again!! The effects of having no earth in my chart is fascinating! Right off the bat, I noticed that you might be shy by nature but when you get comfortable around someone you talk endlessly! It’s super cute!🥺 I don’t think you like talking as much anyway though, you’d rather immerse yourself in something like reading, watching your favourite show/movie or even journaling whatever comes to your mind. Not one to be bothered by people’s absence in unless they left a heavy impact in your life. You enjoy healthy competition in life and love to sit and reflect. It’s a very Mercurian trait, I admire it deeply. Your criticism can hurt A LOT. Even if you mean well. Don’t worry about it though, eventually you’ll learn more about it and it’ll be better. I must say, I sense a little bit of a tension with the women/a woman in your life? Confirm it for me. People may perceive you as someone who just stays in their own world more than half the time and spends time very carefully.

Virgo Moon:

There’s no lie here that most of the people who study astrology will tell you that your sun-moon combination is all practicality and no emotions whatsoever but, I don’t think so. Surely, you might have the innate ability to be stoic or even communicate emotions with a very straight face but there’s definitely a storm running inside your heart. When Mercury meets the Moon, it gives the native the gift to speak up when necessary, instead of suppressing it. Mercury is after all related to communication and voice of action. I don’t think you do so well with confrontations, that becomes a very vulnerable situation. I somehow sense this noticeable presence of air and fire placements in your life that push you to shake things up a little for yourself. It’s definitely needed for you, you can’t live a bland life you know! Socialise as much as you can, but don’t exhaust yourself too much. Ahhh, I think you have the ability to feel writings and words very deeply. You might be the type of person that saves snippets of poetry or essays to read again later because it made you feel. And considering that Virgo rules your 7th house, you must enjoy writing down your feelings as poems or letters for your loved ones. Do you have only one particular person who you trust discussing your life with? Or maybe two people? Confirm it for me. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not only the Scorpio moons/ Risings that keep it tight you know!🤣 People really overlook a Virgo Moon, OOOF!

Pisces Rising:

Oh my! Now the shy factor might just intensify because of Miss. Pisces here!🤣🥰 But, not really!! I say this because Jupiter (traditional ruler of Pisces) really just likes to sit and absorb all the information in the surroundings like an old wise man and on the other hand Neptune (Modern Ruler of Pisces) enjoys giving others the illusion of “Shyness” 😏. Pretty smart I’d say! To be honest, this Pisces-Virgo opposition might make you “Shy” but after a point it’s purely for your own gains😌. Use it to your advantage. Also, why do I get the feeling that you’re one of those students at school who trolls their teachers when it’s really necessary?! Oh, wait, something tells me you’re extremely naughty hahah!! Confirm it for me. Pisces risings make for really good note takers during lectures unless they’re lazy. Interest in the occult is an obvious. As per my observations, when Mercury meets Jupiter and Neptune, it gives the native this ‘passion’ for sharing their spiritual experiences and knowledge with the world. They might as well do it unknowingly but will definitely do it. Do you smirk very naughtily? It’s so childish but it simply shows how purely you want to experience the little joys of life. I love it!! I sense a little lack in confidence, confirm it for me? If you are in fact struggling with self confidence, remember that everyone has something to be insecure about. I know how intensely Pisces placements in the big three can feel like they’re suffering alone. Please take care of yourself 🥺💖. I don’t know if you’re interested in Palmistry, but I have a feeling you’ll do well if you pick it up! It’s somehow very Neptunian-Mercurian in nature to me and it goes perfectly with you!!

I hope this interpretation resonated with you and that you also enjoyed reading it! Leave me feedback through comments!🧿💘✨

Love, Roy.

[bluearson]

Double Trouble

Request: I see your requests are open and you write ✨ soft Dabi ✨ can we get a little smth for Dabi with an s/o who has a water quirk that sooths his burns to further soft dabi supremacy 🥺 (thank you for all the fantastic fluffiness you have blessed us with 💕) The day started off ordinary.  The sound of music filled your ears as you patrolled around your self-claimed “turf”. Life was easy, a little dull but the life of a vigilante with no loyalties was not always boring.  Then you saw him, hiding away in an alleyway. He was tall, beautiful even you might say. The scars that littered his body looked painful. You felt almost sorry for him, a quirk that his own body can’t handle.  You wanted to help him.

Feeling confident you strode up to him, “Sir?” You spoke out to him.  He was almost like a feral cat, he shifted his weight quickly onto his other foot and extended his left hand, blue flames appeared between his fingers. It was like a reflexive survival instinct. Your reflexes were faster than his though, you pulled the moisture out of the air and snuffed his flames out. He watched in disbelief as steam bloomed off his hand. “That’s an impressive quirk you got,” He croaked. “So, what are you? A pro hero?” There was an malicious edge laced into the words he spoke. “I wouldn’t want to rope myself in with such close-minded people.” You scoffed, “I’m better than that. I’m my own boss.” You crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed the flame-quirked stranger.  He only grunted in response as he looked you over. You felt like he was scrutinizing you under his eye. “If our paths cross again.. I think I’d prefer having your help.” He was gone before you could even say goodbye. Even though he hadn’t made the best first impression, neither did you. You weren’t sure how to feel about the next time you met him. At the very least you hoped that you wouldn’t be on the wrong side of his flames a second time. You shuddered at the thought.  You caught a glimpse of him walking down the street together with a girl much shorter than him, she rather cute. You wondered about what relationship they must have had. They seemed like good friends at the least. She was very animated and clung onto his arm as they walked together. Secretly you wished you could be her, clinging to his arm as you strolled through the city. That was another fantasy to write about in your journal. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been infatuated by someone but man.. you really wanted to be at his side. The universe seemed to have enough of punishing you when one day you heard a voice calling out to you, you looked over your shoulder as you took a long swig of water from your water bottle. You flashed the familiar figure a smile as it came fast approaching. “I missed you.” “I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long, sweetheart.” He teased. “I like what you have to offer. I think we could make a pretty good alliance.” The words sent your heart a fluttering. Alliance? He wanted to form an alliance with you? “I would like that..” You extended your hand to touch his forearm, looking up at him as though you were asking permission to touch him. Your fingertips grazed his skin softly. When he didn’t move away you allowed your hand to settle on his rough skin. “Does it ever hurt?” You asked as you examined where the stables met his skin. “Sometimes.” He answered quietly, as though he was sharing a secret with you. “Do you have somewhere we can discuss this privately? I hate being out in the open too long..” He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes darted around. “Yeah I have a little hideout where I make deals.” You turned on your heels and made a beeline for the hideout before you could even see the look on his face. Once inside you fastened the series of locks that prevented squatters from breaking in when you weren’t around to protect your secret base.  You told your new partner all about your quirk, nearly professing that you held a flame for him once or twice as you tried to explain how useful you could be to him. You had experience teaming up with criminals before. Together you were a force to be reckoned with, especially since you could stay hidden as you supported Dabi from the shadows. You began to notice he’d start doing little things for you.  You even took note that his arm stopped sizzling as much after a fight, usually you tried your best to keep up with him but there was only so much you could do while trying to not seem like a shady person carrying around several gallons of water. Still you felt like your efforts were always appreciated, even if they weren’t up to the standards you wanted every time. You lived for the way he’d pat your head as steam rose off his arm. The way he’d smile at you even for a brief moment.  “I love you.” You said to him one day as he smoked his morning cigarette. You were enamored by him, utterly and totally captivated by everything he did. “I’m glad we’re apart of each other’s lives.” You quickly added.  The raven haired villain took a long drag before exhaling the smoke, you watched as some slipped through the staples in his face, it looked as though he was a dragon breathing fire. “I’m glad you’re around.” He tore his eyes away from yours and you felt a little deflated.  You wondered if there was ever a chance he’d see you as something more than just his “sidekick”. You wanted to ask him if he was single or not, about that girl you saw him hanging out with all those months ago. It never seemed like the right time, nor the right place. You didn’t want to ruin a good thing.  Things didn’t change between the two of you after your little outburst. You still couldn’t push your feelings aside for him, no matter how hard you tried. “Dabs, do you try to push me away because you don’t think I can be a good villain?” It had been on your mind for a while, the way he seemed to keep you at arms length even though you both shared a common goal. “You don’t need to protect me if that’s what you’re trying to do. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and holding my own.” Your eyes searched his for an answer, for a glimmer of emotion under the tough guy act he held in public. You knew him long enough to see right through him. Every mask he wore. Every layer he tried to mask his true feelings behind.  You wanted to tear all those walls down for him, to hold him in your arms and play with his hair. To be vulnerable with each other and raise hell together. If he wanted to watch the world burn you’d gladly fan the flames of his ambitions and further his goals. You wanted to see him succeed in everything. For the world to know that there was nothing that could stop him with his partner in crime by his side.  He just stared back into your (E/C) eyes, a sad look washed over his face. He couldn’t just say you didn’t understand, you knew about his ideologies. You supported him with every fiber in your body. He cupped the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your smooth skin.  For once he didn’t have a snarky comeback to bite back at you with.  You two just stood there, staring into each others having a silent conversation. It felt as though you two were trying to telepathically communicate with emotion what words couldn’t possibly convey. It lacked the power to truly grasp the full breath of the things you wanted to tell each other. Dabi pressed his forehead against yours, “I don’t ever want you to act recklessly because you’re following behind me. I never want you to get yourself hurt trying to keep up with me.” He paused, and brushed a lock of hair out of your face. “I know my own limits, and I know when I’m pushing myself too far. You don’t need to worry about me like I’m some.. fragile kid. I’m not made out of porcelain. I’m made out of flesh and bone, muscles.. and I’m a lot more sturdy than I might look.” You laughed lightheartedly, trying to lighten the mood. “I appreciate the fact that you’re looking out for me Dabi.. but I can only do so much if you keep me at arms length. I want to be your equal.”  “You always were.” “Then let me in. Open up to me. Talk to me for fucks sake.” “I think actions speak louder than words. Words get jumbled.. twisted.” He tore his eyes away from yours as he looked off into the distance. He seemed so far away and you let him have his moment to reflect. “You’re too valuable to me. You help the pain stop. I’ve gotten too used to it Y/N. You know you’re really cruel sometimes..” He toyed with a lock of your hair. “You’ve got me hooked on your special little treatment and now I can’t stand the thought of you no longer being apart of my life. You’ve made yourself essential to my personal comfort.” You pulled him into a hug, squeezing him gently as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. It took a moment before he wrapped his arms around you in kind, his body was warm. “How do you think I feel?” You chuckled as you shook your head, “I’ve always been fascinated by you Dabi, ever since the first day I met you. I’ve never been able to get you off my mind for even a single second to myself.”  “Damn..”  You felt a rough kiss being planted onto the of your head. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life?” He chuckled. “Don’t ever say I never loved you. You just weren’t looking close enough. Too caught up in your head to realize I’ve been saying it ever since I agreed to let you into my life.” You said nothing as you simply enjoyed his embrace. Drinking in his scent as you let his warmth envelop you whole. “Wherever you go, I’ll be close behind. Damn all the consequences. There’s no place in this world I’d rather be than with the man I cherish. I trust you with all of me, Dabi.” You planted a kiss on his cheek. “When you’re finally ready to entrust all of you, your baggage, scars, and whatever else you’re hiding away from. I’ll be there, to help ease your pain.” You took his hand and raised it to your lips, planting a firm kiss into his skin. Taglist: @some-kindofgnome @humanitiesstrongestchicken @hecatve @axerrri

[aquaticstyles]

unchained

A while ago I was asked for a “Have You Ever Been In Love” sequel, and while this is probably not the direction you guys were expecting, this is what I came up with. Also, this one’s (loosely) inspired by the song “Scott Street” by the lovely Phoebe Bridgers (highly recommend listening to the spotify sessions version while listening). Fun fact, for forever I misheard the lyrics, thinking she was saying “unchained” instead of “ashamed.” After noticing that I have, in fact, been wrong this entire time, I realized I kinda liked my version better (sorry Phoebe). And, me being me, I ran with it and it spun into this quick, 1.4k part two. Reblogs + feedback help so much! Enjoy!! xx, Jane 

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry’s heart stops.

The question catches him off guard, and not just because he’s not used to interviewers asking such personal ones (he guesses this is what he signed up for when he agreed to be the first male flying solo on the cover of Vogue). It makes his heart stop because of his answer, because of the woman that had once asked him the same exact question.

Harry has never been one to linger in his sadness; he finds it unproductive, and quite honestly, completely depressing. After a break up, one can find the caramel-colored curls belonging to the world’s latest phenomenon sweating out his sorrow, or frustration, at the gym, pounding the boxing bag again and again and again. “Nothing another set can’t fix,” his trainer, Mike, would often tease the man in denial, knowing good and well by his posture upon entering the ring, slumped shoulders and an ever-present crease between his eyebrows, that another one had bit the dust the night prior. Mike had learned fairly quickly to never ask questions, to simply let Harry work out his emotions as he pleases, even if that means letting him walk out with wrapped fists masking throbbing, crimson knuckles.

Harry has never been one to talk about his sadness either; he finds it prolongs the pain rather than diminishing it, an annoying gnat swarming around an abnormally large bite from a crisp apple, halting his progression in enjoying his afternoon snack because he just can’t catch the bloody thing. His sister has tried to break him from his stubborn ways, even resulting to getting the lanky man drunk off tequila in hopes of him finally opening up about his incessant missed targets; however, that only ever ends up with Gemma’s arms holding up the giggling teddy bear and folding his bulky body into a taxi, mimicking cramming a cotton ball into a straw. Therapy was suggested and waved off with an inked palm, because if he doesn’t want to talk to his sister about it, how on earth is he supposed to talk to a stranger?

Never-ending claims of “I’m fine,” and “It just didn’t work out,” and “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” and “It wasn’t even that serious.” Sure, each breakup took a little something out of the man that insisted he was “fine,” but eventually, a couple dozen inked journal pages later, Harry would be back to his normal, happy-go-lucky, perfectly-kind self.

All of these rang true for most of Harry’s young adulthood.

All of these were common occurrences, that is, until Harry met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. Selfless, but not in an over-bearing, walk-all-over-me kind of way. Funny, but not in an underlying-hatred, fake-laugh kind of way. Genuine, but not in a look-at-me, fake kind of way. Honest, in a I-want-to-know-everything-that-makes-you-you, ask-you-questions-until-the-sun-rises kind of way. Drop-dead-gorgeous in the most unbelievable, glowing, ethereal, kind of way that he constantly reminded you of. You were the perfect balance, the missing diamond to even out the coal on the other end of the scale.

Loving you felt like the ocean.

In the morning when there’s a hazy screen covering your lenses, clouding the soft sunlight in a muted, white-washed filter. It’s more gray, yet still golden as the shining mass of fire lazily rises from its slumber. It’s calm, clouds stretched apart like cobwebs in the faded blue sky above, waves leisurely, almost too relaxed, crashing along the bleached shore then disappearing back into the horizon. Still sleepy, still new, an entire day ahead of you.

In the afternoon when the sun is at its highest and hottest, radiating down ultraviolet rays that burn your skin, causing alarmingly red shoulders in need of aloe that soon progressively heal and turn into a bronzed exterior. Speckles of light dancing upon excited waves, similar to a neighborhood of children dressed in pink polka dots and orange overalls running towards the ice cream truck filled to the brim with dreams of sugary stomachaches. It’s saturated, every color its brightest and loudest, pops of cerulean and coral. It’s a blanket of comfort, a suffocating scarf. It’s sweet. It’s sour. A cool glass of lemonade sinking into a bed of quicksand. Annoying and astonishing.

In the night, when the yellowing presence is long gone in the awakening of the moon, the deepest indigo swirling in between pockets of stars dotted and flecked into the atmosphere like freckles. It’s black and blue. You don’t know where the earth stopss and the water begins, familiarity lost as the waves erase each new footprint in the sand. The tide is an abuser, sweet as it sings you in, terrifying as it pulls you under. Skinny dipping, vulnerable, exciting, adrenaline, heart thumping, diving, sinking, drowning.

The morning, the afternoon, the night. The happening, the honeymoon, the heartbreak.

Ever since it ended, everything Harry had ever known was cast aside, thrown out like a Gucci jumper from last season. For the first time in his twenty-six years of living, fourteen of those juggling the obstacles that relationships can and will bring, Harry was irreversibly numb, a pair of frozen, gloveless fingertips blue from the icy wind. Not only did he linger in the gut-wrenching grief, he was absorbed by it. Instead of waking up each morning tucked into the bare side of your body diffusing innocent warmth, sipping a steaming cup of black coffee received by hands much smaller than his own, he woke up with a stranger laying on his chest, cold, with a pounding headache the bottle of whiskey had gladly supplied from the night before. The days felt as if they lasted an eternity, time stuck in slow-motion, tick, tick, ticking, one second, one and a half, one and three quarters, two. He watched the seasons pass, the grass dying and regenerating into its natural emerald shade from his bedroom, dust pocketing in the corners of a picture frame containing two pairs of sparkling eyes and genuine, toothy grins sitting on the windowsill. Nights consisted of him lying sleepless on his back, eyes wide awake, thumbs twiddling as the echoes of helicopters overhead drone in and out. Dozens of missed calls remained unanswered: Mum, Gem, Mitch, Mike, Adam, Sarah, Mum, Mum, Gem, Mum, Mike, Mitch, Gem, Mitch, Mum…

He was stuck, a pancake glued to an ungreased pan, charred. It was when this melancholy had prolonged for nearly its sixth month, and all at home remedies (which included drinking, writing, drinking because he was writing, and writing because he was drinking) failed to provide any peace that he decided to give in to the recommendations from almost every single one of his friends: therapy. After the first session, he was ready to book it and sprint off to a deserted island with nothing but a coconut filled with rum to accompany his solitude. Turns out that one session was the mento to his coca cola of bottled-up emotions, exploding months’ worth of buried feelings and memories in an hour. It took the will of God (and Gemma purposefully lying and telling him they were going to get lunch) to get Harry back in the baby-pink-painted interior of his therapist’s office. After months of talking, sorting, compartmentalizing, yelling, crying, healing, unpacking, and reflecting, Harry tackled down the closure he had been chasing. A year and an album later, when he heard your name, he no longer felt trapped, heart beating rapidly, trying desperately to break apart his ribcage, he felt unchained—a prisoner uncaged, pounds and pounds of metal unlocked from his wrists, free.

Before, your name was paired with a colorless photo album, snapshots of vibrancy draining into black and white, frozen, lifeless, still.

Now, your name resembled a film reel of the best moments, your sweater hanging in his closet, your arm thrown around his mother’s shoulder in a polaroid candid, your laugh echoing in the acoustics of his shower after you nearly slipped on the lavender bubbles coating sudsy toes, your hands massaging his scalp, twisting curls into detailed plaits, your foamy lips smushing against a stubbled cheek, leaving remnants of peppermint mocha in the winter air, your satin skirt contrasting from his purple flares in his backyard, playing thumb war and whispering confessions in the moonlight. The good memories built a brick wall to block out the bad, dimming the light of your downfall.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question echoes again in Harry’s ears, causing a grin and a dimple to pop into his cheek. The fuzzies. Once, twice, three times. Click, shake, tape.

“Yeah, I have.”

[writersrealmbts]

Clearwater Springs: Part 1

Description: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: None

Posted: 08/29/2020

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, 

5,111 words

A/N: Once I was actually able to write, this came out really easily. I hope you guys enjoy it and don’t forget to do the pre-chapter 2 survey (link at the end of post)! 

You stared up at the house in a bit of a daze, still untethered. Still vulnerable.

“Isn’t it magnificent?! A real masterpiece, this house.”

You glanced at your over-enthusiastic caseworker, then looked back up at the grand Victorian house, wondering if the inside matched the outside, and why such a grand house was way out in the middle of nowhere. Why its owner would offer to take in strays, misfits, and others in need of a new home after the recent war when they were obviously still doing well despite the near economic collapse.

Your caseworker was practically bouncing up to the house, making you dizzy as he jostled the itty-bitty fountain you were temporarily tied to.

But you’d been dealing with that for a month, and you were getting pretty good at walking a straight line while the world appeared to spin around you.

“Now, if you and he agree at the end of the day, you’ll be tethered to a natural spring and the creek it runs into nearby, and you’ll stay in one of the spare rooms and you’ll help him organize and keep his library, which he runs as a traditional library—when organized—for some of the locals.”

You didn’t bother responding since he didn’t seem to be looking for a response, instead heavily trodding up to the front door as he rang the doorbell.

“Also, to simulate what life will be like, I’ll be leaving you for the day once I set your fountain down in a safe spot.”

“You said,” You murmured, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling yourself swaying from side to side. As a xana, you were originally tethered to a fountain many miles away, but as the war reached that town, your fountain had been damaged and your original workplace—a large library where you specialized in the children’s section, reading to them and singing your songs—utterly demolished. Because the fountain wasn’t completely destroyed, you survived. An experimental spell and three weeks later and there you were, standing on the steps of the home of a human where you would be exchanging work for a place to sleep and food to eat. You didn’t even need that much food, about a meal a day was enough for you when your tethered place was healthy and strong and not being jerked around like a dog was playing tug-of-war with it.

The front door opened, revealing a man with pink hair. “Hello, you must be Y/n. We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Clearwater Springs.”

“We?” You asked, glancing at your worker.

The human did as well. “You told her about the house’s haltija, right?”

You relaxed. “Oh. Just a haltija?”

“Well, he’s also half-brownie, but thankfully that only manifests in the occasional clumsy or destructive moment. He’s quite friendly, though, and very fond of the forest,” The human spoke quickly, as though afraid you would pass negative judgement on the haltija—creatures who were known for guarding and protecting—for having brownie blood—admittedly, creatures who could become troublesome when disrespected, but otherwise also keepers of the home and chore-doers for the kind.

“I’m sure he’s very kind and gentle,” You replied.

“Right. And you’re a xana?”

You nodded.

“And...I’m sorry, I’m not sure what exactly that is, other than the fact that you’re generally tied to some form of pure water, like fountains, springs, rivers, waterfalls….”

You nodded. “I’m originally from a fountain. Um...I’m not sure how to explain what I am.”

Your caseworker took that hint. “Oh! Right, well, they seem to always know virtuous hearts through some test or other—though no one ever seems to be able to pin down the test—um, they have enchanted songs that bring feelings of peace and love to the pure and could almost kill those who are impure. Um, let’s see, she has combs made of moonbeams and sunlight, respectively. Can’t completely care for babies, but once they can feed themselves she’s fine.”

You frowned, fighting yourself not to glare at him. Your species couldn’t produce milk, so in the old days—before there was formula—it was a sort of changeling situation. A Xanino would replace a human child. Terrible, but true. Nowadays, most xaninos were adopted by naiads or other nature or house spirits—because now it was scandalous to try and raise your own child as a xana.

“Oh, she has treasure, but who knows where she keeps that—”

“It’s enchanted, you’re not supposed to know where I keep it,” You muttered, even though he wasn’t paying any attention to you.

“And she can give you a drink that we call ‘Love water’. Couldn’t tell you why, and I’ve never seen her hand it out. Think that’s it. Here’s her fountain, I’ll be back at sundown.”

The human almost dropped the fountain that was shoved into his hands, and if he wasn’t so surprised you thought he might have yelled at your caseworker.

But the car peeled down the driveway again, kicking up dirt.

You stared after him, a little disconcerted. “Mages.”

“Um, well, we’ve been preparing for your arrival. We’ve gotten the basement bathroom renovated so that you can shower or bathe in the waters of your spring when you need, and your bedroom is ready for you. We thought you’d prefer to decorate it with your things...but looking back now I probably should have known you wouldn’t have many things. It’s a hard time for everyone,” The human rambled, rubbing his neck. “Oh, I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose your name would be important. I’d hate to be rude and just refer to you as ‘The Human” when you’re my boss.”

Seokjin looked startled at the title. “I’d rather think of it as a partnership. I’ve been told I shouldn’t live alone, and you needed a new home. Also, my library is out of control and I have no idea where to start—I mean, other than the new library building that we just finished. Don’t worry, it’s very close to your water source as well, but your spring is still highly protected.”

You just nodded, wondering why he didn’t stare like most humans did. You were beautiful—that was one of the key points of defining a xana: being extraordinarily beautiful. Xana’s were considered more beautiful than any other species—and only a few other species even tried to contend with it since yours was more rare, and therefore more worth the attention.

“Um, let’s get inside so I can set this down. We’ll make sure Namjoon steers completely clear of it.” Seokjin stepped back and leaned his head in a gesture that suggested welcoming you inside and to follow him.

He led the way through the entry, and then to the living room through the arch immediately to the right. He took the fountain and placed it on a table that was against the wall—out of the way of general traffic. “There. Now, Namjoon should be around somewhere. Probably the garden, he likes it out there. But for now let me show you the house, including where you’ll be staying and then we’ll go and talk about the library. There’s a lot of work that I want to do, Namjoon is heavily involved in that too. He likes books, but between us...we don’t really have the skills to put what we want into action—which is why we’re really excited that you’re here.” He started the tour.

“I’ll do my best to h-hell, what is this hell?” You said, looking at the mess. It looked somewhat like a library, except you couldn’t even see the shelves. It was just piles upon piles of books, newspapers, journals, magazines, and comic books with a thin path between it all.

Seokjin winced. “It is...mildly organized. We’ve been receiving donations. Don’t worry, there will be a bigger place, we mostly just need to pack all of this up and move it to the new facility in an...organized fashion.”

You pointed at the mix of magazines and books. “This is organized.”

“I did say somewhat, didn’t I? We had a large influx of books very suddenly. Things got very messy in the chaos of it all. I think they were sending us books from destroyed libraries.” He shrugged a bit. “Don’t worry. We’ll be helping at every turn and I’m bringing in extra workers from town as needed.”

You supposed that was supposed to be comforting, but you were staring at a nightmare of a situation. One toppling tower, and there was no navigating through.

“Hyung? Is that you?” The pile asked.

Then it was all falling over and someone was diving out while Seokjin pulled you against the wall and out of the way.

Seokjin sighed. “Namjoon. Our guest is here.”

The man with blue hair looked up, then back at his legs (which were trapped under many books), then back at you. He stared at you with big eyes, looking a little flustered.

You took a deep breath. “Well, that is exactly what we didn’t want to happen.”

“Yeah. Namjoon, didn’t we talk about not going in there?” Seokjin bent down and grabbed Namjoon under the arms and pulled him out from the pile, helping him to his feet.

“I just wanted the next book in my series.” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “I was doing okay until then.”

Seokjin shook his head a bit. “Namjoonie, this is y/n. She’s the one that’s going to stay with us and help with the library?”

Namjoon was definitely already staring at you, and he looked a little flustered and red. “Hi.”

“She’s a xana. Y/n, this is Namjoon, the haltija of the house.”

“Uh, nice to meet you,” Namjoon said hurriedly.

“Nice to meet you, too,” You replied, trying for a smile, but you were pretty sure you just gave him a woozy look.

“Maybe you should lie down before we continue the house tour? He was jostling your fountain around quite a bit.” Seokjin frowned toward the front door.

Namjoon nodded. “He’s right. You need rest. I can tell.”

You shrugged. “Nah, the world is supposed to be constantly spinning.”

“Should I carry her? Should I carry you?” Seokjin asked, sounding and looking a little panicked.

You shrugged. “I’m fine. This has been my life for the past three months.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened.

Seokjin looked like he was going to have a meltdown.

“Unless you’re going to have a panic attack, in which case you may carry me if it will help you,” You said quickly, concerned with how quickly he was freaking out.

Namjoon glanced at the human, then nodded. “I think that might be the only way to stall him out. He’s not wearing his glasses.”

You shrugged again, uncertain what not having glasses had to do with anything, and waited while Namjoon muttered something to Seokjin.

A couple moments later, Seokjin came over, muttering something about being sorry, then he carefully scooped you up. “Sorry, your dress is a little slippery. Silk?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My clothes just sort of...appear as I need them? Usually made of silk, but sometimes there’s a velvet cloak when it’s colder. Some linen when it’s warmer. Always dresses.”

“Cool,” Namjoon said, following the two of you up the stairs.

“I suppose so,” You replied, doing your best not to look at Seokjin. He was handsome for a human. And you’d never seen a non-fairy pull off pink hair before today. He had a sort of gentleness to his face, a softness that could easily become cold and judgemental. If that even made sense.

But honestly, there were very few things that made sense since the war had begun some ten years ago.

“Why is your hair blue?” You asked the haltija, looking over Seokjin’s shoulder as you realized you had been looking at him despite specifically thinking you shouldn’t and only noticing because his ears had started turning a violent shade of red.

“Oh...uh...we’re not really sure. It just sort of...changes now and then. A few days ago I woke up and it was this color. Before that it had been brown.”

“Did you two paint any part of the house?”

“Well, not in the same time frame as my hair color changing. And definitely not this color. Jin-hyung has this crazy theory that it’s connected to my soulmate or something.”

“You have a soulmate?” You asked, surprised.

He nodded, rubbing his left shoulder-pectoral area, which meant either his mark was located there or he had some muscle pain from his dive for freedom in the great August book-slide. “Yeah. Or...well, I have multiple sections in my mark...so, I guess I’m part of a soul-group. Probably a platonic one given my species.”

“You never know what’s waiting around the riverbend,” You replied, thinking back to Grandma Loire’s wise words when you had been fretting about the war. Granted, at that time, her words had been very wrong, but you wouldn’t begrudge the dead for their mistakes.

But also thinking about your own soulmark and the multiple parts in it. You were certain it was just a coincidence, but it was still an interesting fact that you filed away.

“You sound like a naiad,” Namjoon snorted.

“A naiad told me that. She was very wrong at the time. Told me not to worry about the battle in Manhattan.”

“Ooh,” He winced. “Very wrong.”

Seokjin held onto you a little tighter. “Where did you live before this?”

“Rocamadour. Our library was new when I started working there. Before there were a couple but they were in some towns over.”

“Where is that?” Namjoon asked.

“It’s in the Alps,” Seokjin answered, then paused at the top of the stairs. “Get the door?”

The door swung open before Seokjin had finished asking.

You craned your head to look at Namjoon, suddenly concerned with your privacy.

He held up his hands. “I can open doors and windows, I can’t see through walls. I can also hear things, if you want me to. If you want me to hear, just knock or tap your foot three times and I’ll listen.”

You nodded slightly and relaxed again.

Seokjin carried you into the room, which was painted such a calm color. The bed was a queen-size, and it was soft when he lay you in the middle of it. The top blanket was velvet-y and so, so soft.

Namjoon gave you a smile when you let out a sound of appreciation.

Seokjin smiled at you. “Well, I’m going to find out whether he’s coming back to check in on you tonight or not while you rest, then we’ll go over other things and go to the spring. Feel free to go anywhere in the house, as long as it isn’t one of our bedrooms. Mine is on the first floor, Namjoon’s is across the hall. Food in the kitchen is up for grabs unless it’s in the meal-plan that I have on the fridge. Oh, that door there leads to your bathroom, the one next to it leads to your closet, and this third door leads to your sitting room or office or whatever you want to use it for. We’ll let you nap now.”

Namjoon dipped his head as Seokjin pushed and pulled him out of your bedroom door.

You stared at the closed door for a moment, then lay back. You were still so accustomed to sleeping on your fountain or in your fountain that this felt weird. But it felt weird in a heavenly sort of way. You slid up and then managed to slide under the covers, a little excited about the silk sheets. It was so nice.

So heavenly that you woke up feeling so refreshed that it had to be illegal. Sure, you still felt a little off (because the fountain you were temporarily tethered too wasn’t the greatest), but you felt much better than before.

You slid out of the sheets, enjoying the feel of the hardwood on your feet as you cautiously checked out your bathroom, closet, and sitting room (which only had an armchair and a small sofa). Once you had tested the seats (because you had to know which would be your favorite, it was the armchair), you ventured out into the hallway.

Namjoon’s door was open, but you didn’t hear anything in there, so you decided not to bother him.

Instead, you headed back the way you had been carried, looking around for more detail.

The structure of the house, the woodwork, the moulding, the baseboards and the stairway all had a distinctly Victorian style, and all were likely original to the house. But the design was more subtle, softer, and more contemporary in the coloring and the furniture. It was a nice sort of mix that gave the house an air of elegance that was refreshing. You’d been in some victorian-style homes before and they had been so overwhelmingly Victorian that it was like you were trapped in England in that time period and about to choke on a piece of jellied eel.

You avoided the pile of books spilling out of the library (but did notice that they’d been somewhat cleaned up), and checked out the living room again with the ulterior motive of checking on your current fountain.

The style was even more contemporary there, yet still paid a nice homage to the house. A monochrome color scheme, with pops of color in some of the throw pillows and delicate accents in the artwork.

Your fountain looked cleaner than ever and had a healthy amount of water in it for once, which you honestly felt boded well for you. There even seemed to be a new coating of pebbles at the bottom of the small basin.

You flinched as a cat hopped up onto the table next to the fountain and took a drink from it. It was young, a long-haired calico, so soft and pretty looking.

You let it sniff your hand, humming softly before you carefully picked it up. You snuggled it, happy when it seemed to revel in your attention, even seeking it when you started looking over the books that were seperated from the library and on the shelf beside the fireplace. There weren’t many, but you recognized one or two of the titles, and the taste there seemed to vary widely. You figured they were probably books from both of the boys, and left them as they were to go try and find the kitchen for a glass of water.

The office was nearby, but didn’t look like it got used as an office very often, but definitely seemed to have a gaming station in one corner.

You found the billiard’s room next, noting that there was a ping-pong table folded up in a corner. It seemed pretty abandoned, clean, but not nearly as used.

Then a smell permeated the air, drawing you back toward soft noise and even softer humming, murmured conversation and the sizzling of something cooking.

You peeked into the large kitchen, smiling when you saw Namjoon reading in one corner, and Seokjin cooking at the stove. Namjoon seemed to be explaining the book to Seokjin, quietly passionate about it.

Seokjin was smiling and humming, possibly more focused on what he was cooking, but still seeming to hear what Namjoon was saying.

“Smells good,” You said quietly, slipping completely into the room. Trying not to disturb the aura.

Seokjin turned and grinned at you. “Hey! You look like you feel better.”

You nodded. “That bed is heavenly. And thank you for cleaning the fountain.”

He shrugged. “It looked like it had been neglected for a while. Namjoon found some pebbles for it as well because he read that once they’ve been exposed to the tether it can make a transition easier, theoretically.”

Namjoon looked embarrassed, rubbing his neck. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to try it out.”

“That was very thoughtful,” You told him, smiling at him as well.

He was bright red after that.

Seokjin chuckled. “I’ll have dinner ready soon. Then I thought we could head down to the new library building, and then maybe go into town. There isn’t much, but I do need to pick up some things.”

You took the seat that Namjoon offered. “That sounds like a plan. Who’s the kitty?”

“Oh, that’s Parsley. She followed us home one day and has been here ever since.” Namjoon pet the cat carefully. “She’s a good mouser, so we just sort of created a pact that as long as she keeps us pest free, we’ll keep her pest-free.”

“She’s a cutie,” You said, pressing your cheek against the soft fur and enjoying the soothing vibrations of her purr. It was just one of the many things that made you feel so comfortable here. That and both men seemed relatively impervious to your enchanting beauty, which was refreshing. It gave you hope that this would work out. That you wouldn’t always be free-floating.

“She is. Do you know anything about this bird that practically forced it’s way into our house?” Seokjin asked, pointing toward the ceiling.

You leaned to the left to look at the little black and white fluff-ball. “Was wondering when he would show up. He’s been following me for a while. Don’t know why, but he seems to have formed an attachment. Whether he feels like conversing is a completely different matter.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Not that he’ll tell me.”

Namjoon started laughing.

Seokjin gave you an exasperated look. “What do you call him?”

“Fluffball, marshmallow, cotton swab, cotton ball, cotton candy, fairy floss—he really doesn’t like that one—squishy, fluffy, Caspar, and Leo.” You shrugged. “Like I said, he won’t tell me his name. Just what his name isn’t.”

“So, none of those are his name?”

“Well, fairy floss isn’t. I’ve gotten to the point where I think he’s just waiting for someone else to settle on a name for him—preferably one he likes.”

“And until then, he’s just going to come and go as he pleases?”

You shrugged again, holding it for a while.

Namjoon was still laughing, his smile revealing some adorable dimples.

“So...is he a magical bird?”

You looked up at your feathered friend, and resisted the urge to shrug once more. “Maybe?”

Seokjin huffed. “What does he eat?”

“Haven’t the foggiest. He always leaves to eat. Sometimes I’d see him eating bird-seed, but mostly he just flies off and comes back well-fed. I think he eats insects.”

“Great. He can deal with the mosquitos.” Seokjin spared the bird a glance, then dished up the food. “The store might have some insects we can get for him, just in case. You never know. They always have weird things.”

“Really?” You looked forlornly after the kitty as it leaped off and disappeared through another doorway. “Is it a magic shop?”

“Well….”

“We told you that Jin-hyung is the only human in town, didn’t we?” Namjoon asked, eyes widened slightly. “Everyone who lives in the area is magical to some extent, except for hyung.”

You shook your head, a little stunned. “No. No you did not tell me that.”

But man was that an idea to wrap your head around.

Seokjin shrugged, having plated up the food. “This is a pretty popular place for refugees. Sort of remote and accepting of different species. A nice place to make a fresh start.”

“But...you’re the only human. Doesn’t that get...I don’t know...lonely?”

He blinked at you, then shook his head and shrugged. “No? I have Namjoonie, and now you’re here too. And yeah, I’m outnumbered, but they’ve never held my species against me. I mean, that’s probably because I did sort of pay for the whole town, which isn’t much. But more people come each day, and some people move on to other places once they’ve gotten back onto their feet. It’s like an adventure, meet some new characters, help them on their journey, then return home to sleep in a big, soft, bed with a full belly.”

And maybe the look of genuine happiness on his face was just a little too alluring.

Maybe you were just desperate to belong somewhere, because when he included you...it was like the world lit up.

And no, you were not tearing up.

His hand covered yours, warmth spreading from his touch to the mark that was hidden under the sleeve of your dress as he smiled warmly at you. “I really do hope that this place becomes your home. Everyone deserves to have a home.”

And then he was moving away, maybe not even aware that he was one of your soulmates since he was human.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Namjoon quickly complied with Seokjin’s words, but you were slower to follow, trying to figure out how all of this had come about.

“I heard that a new van full of people arrived yesterday, so I want to see if I can meet any of them. See if we still have enough housing for everyone. That might mean a couple people staying with us in the house if there isn’t enough housing. Is that okay?”

You nodded, just following their actions, but not taking as much food as they did. Mostly because you didn’t need much food to survive, but it smelled good. So good, and Seokjin did cook it himself.

“Alright, then it’s a plan. Eat, see the new library, go to the store, meet people, come home.” Seokjin nodded firmly at the end of the list, then seemed to remember something. “And talk to your mage-handler and see about tethering you to the spring. That’s probably more important. We can do the other things tomorrow if we have to, but the tethering should be done sooner rather than later. That is, if you want to be tethered to the spring. You wouldn’t necessarily have to live here your whole life, we could always get you your own home, it would just—”

“Living here is fine, and yes, I would like to be tethered to the spring,” You said quickly, noticing how his speech was deteriorating. “I just have one question.”

“Oh?” He looked so genuinely concerned, leaning forward in his seat.

“Namjoon said you wear glasses, so...have you actually seen me?”

Namjoon snickered.

Seokjin’s ears turned bright red. “Um. Yes. Yes I can see you. I have seen you. I’m seeing you. I, um, I put in my, um, contacts. I can see you quite clearly. Also, I could see you when I was closer. Just, not after a certain distance. And yes, we do plan on actively protecting you when we go out.”

You nodded. “Just curious.”

Namjoon paused after swallowing. “The mage is back.”

Seokjin sighed. “So, town tomorrow then. I’ll go let him in. I suppose this means I need to offer him dinner?”

“That would be the polite thing,” Namjoon said, gleefully.

Seokjin muttered as he left the room.

“He’s...unusual for a human,” You commented.

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah. He is. But he’s one of the best human’s I’ve ever met. We’re really glad you’re going to stay with us, Y/n. I hope you never regret your choice.”

“I hope so too.” But you didn’t think you would.

Namjoon turned toward the door, eyes narrowed slightly before rolling his eyes. “Can you help me cover the food? Apparently Mr. Mage is insisting on doing the tethering now if you agree to it.”

You rolled your eyes and got up to help him cover all three plates and the platters and bowls with tin foil to possibly retain some warmth. You highly doubted you’d be eating again that evening since tethering made you impossibly nauseous and sleepy. “I won’t be very coherent after the tethering.”

He nodded. “We’ll make sure you get back here and into bed safely, or into the tub downstairs.”

You nodded, then followed him out to where Seokjin was listening to your mage, looking strained.

“Ah, so, have you decided whether you wish to be tethered to the spring here or not?”

“I have decided to be tethered, yes.” Anything to not be in his careless hands anymore.

“Excellent! I’ll get the fountain!”

“How about I grab it, that way your hands are free to do the actual spell,” Jin quickly intervened. “Namjoon can lead the way back to the mouth of the spring.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as the mage agreed to it. At least Seokjin would be careful.

“Alright, then lets head to this spring! I’d love to be on the road before dark.”

Namjoon’s chin jutted out slightly.

Seokjin just gave a pained smile, nodding. “Yes. Driving after dark is a pain. Namjoon. Lead the way.”

And you weren’t about to tell on Namjoon when you saw one of the floorboards pop up to trip the mage, because you kind of felt somewhat vindicated.

The forest around the house was made up primarily of spruces, firs, pines, and hemlocks with birches, oaks, and red maples popping through here and there. The path that the four of you took (with a little fluffball following overhead and a calico furball following behind curiously) was discreet, yet also fairly well-worn. As though walked often, but also well-cared for.

It was quiet, with varying degrees of density—some areas providing a wide view of the rest of the forest, and other areas being so dense that you couldn’t see a foot past the nearest tree.

Namjoon followed the path for a while, then diverged into the forest down what appeared to be a game-trail, something not walked often.

Then you could sense the water. It’s purity, it’s cleanliness. Free and untethered.

The creek was beautiful, and all of you followed it to the head of the spring.

You grinned when you saw it, a thrill going through you. It was beautiful and so clean and lovely and it was going to be yours.

Seokjin set your fountain down so that the mage could prepare the spell, then came over to you. “You’re sure about this?”

You looked into his eyes, the eyes of one of your soulmates, and nodded. “I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, a little more carefree now.

You hoped you’d have the courage to talk about soulmates with him someday, but today you were going to have your soul ripped from a tiny fountain and sewn back into a spring. You only had so much courage.

And then the mage started the spell.

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Survey Results used for this chapter: 

Namjoon-Blue (haltija), Seokjin-Pink (human), You-Cyan (xana) 

Silk, Book-Librarian, Creek-what your water source is attached to, House/Apartment/Mansion, Style-Victorian & Contemporary, view-boreal/boreal-mix forest, calico kitty, white bird with black wings, 

Whoops-meet Seokjin first, Oh No-meet Namjoon second, LaLaLa-C (some friends, some strangers), Loyalty-Soulmate au, Black-War tore through and you're all in relief housing situation.

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Pre-Chapter 2 Survey

Next.

Masterlist.  ot7 Masterpost.

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