#the whole thing with the fuse that I was doing on stream the other night is something I would do for real if i was in that situation for

[yappacadaver]

He and I would make a great demon fighting combo because he likes to lock people in the building alone and I like to be left alone

[rosemarydisaster]

Hi Hello, I know I haven't talked a lot about CR lately (my brain won't let me watch it for some reason) but I'm back to talk about The Legend of Vox Machina, particularly: Grog.

Spoilers for The Legend of Vox Machina episode 9 below. There will be spoilers for the stream too, but I will also mark down where those start.

I love love love all the changes. Not only do I think they're a great way to adapt the absolute beast of content that CR is. Some are good sacrifices, there's shit gotta leave out, no matter how entertaining. I think they've pick very well what to leave completely out. Also, they're really smart in the way they've fused different adventures so they can have a two for one (like adding stuff from the rakshasa fight to the dungeon crawl at the Matron's temple so they can have that Kashaw-Kiki interactions). And of course there's the switching the order so it's more streamlined thing too, like Pyra. But what I thought was the best decision was the party splitting on the past three episodes.

Sure, you should never split the party and I hope they don't abuse that solution or that at least they play with the different combinations because it can be a detriment to the group dynamic. But this time?? They nailed it.

The fey wild group was perfect, you have all the development you need for the ships and also Vax and Percy get to patch things up a little and the twins are together for the family reunion. you have all the people important for a Vex Arc on one side.

On the other hand, you have Grog go through his arc with the two people most important to him. I love the Vax-Grog Dynamic, but like in the OG fight against the Earth breaker, his first choice will always be Pike and his second Scanlan. Also, you get some cute gnome flirting and a bit more development for Scanlan since Pike is the one that challenges more his flirty nature. Vex and Percy are permanently done with him, but they treat it like something that's just intrinsic to Scanlan. You can't change the weather, you simply complain about it. Pike on the other hand is the one that gets frustrated at the fact that Scanlan is unable to have a proper heart to heart or to be sentimental without defusing the tension. And Grog bringing out Scanlan's more caring nature is a nice touch. So it is the perfect team for Scanlan progress too.

But going back to what I actually wanted to talk about (because my Scanlan Meta will come too, but most likely next week) Grog. I love what they did with Craven Edge, I love how the show allows them to have this more "feelings based" resolution to Craven Edge's exhaustion. Because in game greater restoration or a night's sleep heal literally anything unless the DM specifically requests it.

What this does is it gives them the chance to introduce the whole "where does your strength come from?" Question in a place where the stakes are super high and it's thematically appropriate. That whole speech about how Grog considers strength helping those who can't help themselves...chills.

Now spoilers for the stream

I think it also Segways brilliantly into the whole "My strength are my friends" by maybe combining it with the whole "Vox Machina...Fuck shit up". If that happens, I'm gonna cry so hard I will dehydrate. I love the fact that they are giving so much attention to Grog, his growth his emotions because they're often brushed off. Travis wasn't still super comfortable roleplaying emotional scenes in campaign one and Tal, Liam and Marisha had a lot os experience and really angsty characters. Also Laura and Sam are just that powerful, you can't expect most people's experience first character to be that emotionally vulnerable (specially while streaming).

Ashley was also more nervous with the streaming and stuff, so Pike and Grog while not underdeveloped at all, usually didn't have the emotional spotlight on them the way we're seeing in the show. I think giving Grog the physical vulnerability and stripping most of his companions away is a great way to allow that depth to shine. When you don't have four extra characters each making questions and each proposing solutions, the spotlight shines directly on Grog and I love it.

I've always treasured those rare moments were Grog gets to open up and show his heart. I really love that trope of big dumb character also has emotional complexity, so I really enjoyed the last episode and I can't wait for the next one.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I have thoughts on voice overs

Aug 2022 Wk 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying the most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Eclipse (Fri YT) Ep 3 of 15 - The splinter thing was cute. I liked that they used it to show that Aye is a capable boy, and I enjoy that quality in a character. The disciplining of the 3 queer boys plot is giving me So Much in Love vibes. I’m a little confused by the friendship between Thua and Aye, did that come out of nowhere or is it just me? 

Vice Versa (Sat on YT) Ep 7 of 12 - It’s been interesting to watch Sea come into his own with this show, since at first Jimmy takes up all the air in the proverbial cinematic room. But Sea is good, subtle. Do I feel a little manipulated by the external conflict? Yes. And I still think Jimmy‘s character’s motivation is suspect. In other news, it should not be as weird as it was to watch someone eat carbonara Thai style, but it totally fucked with my head.

21 Days Theory (Sun YT ) Ep 3 of 4 - They are all so cute. The side noona romance, even the side Cyrano romance. I’m deeply grateful they ff the singing trope for me! OMG its so ADORABLE when X&Q switch to using X and Q. Eeeee!!!!!!! Q is so nervous and pleased about it. I love this show so much. The representation of an elder gay advisor, teaching about proper communication and warning of damaging romance tropes, PLUS language play and high school? Everything about this show is in my wheelhouse. 

My Only 12% (Fri iQIYI) Ep 3 of 15 - Well if anybody can advise a lonely confused gay boy in high school, I suppose it’s Fuse Kung. This one is moving along swimmingly, it’s complex, nuanced, and very well done for essentially a simple premise from Thailand. It’s not a pulp, but it’s not high production either. In style it’s more in the vein of UWMA than anything I’ve seen out of Wabi Sabi in a LONG time. Thumbs up. 

Love Mechanics (Sun WeTV) Ep 10fin - I really loved the class conflict with these two, and what it says about the characters in their families. Honestly THIS could’ve been the plot for this whole drama. It would’ve been so much better if it had dwelled in this space of family drama, rather than the chaotic messy bi-slut cheating space. And guess that’s it. That’s the end. Sigh. In the end I went with 6/10, I compare this to My Gear and Your Gown (a classic 6/10), and find it’s about the same. Yes YinWar are great, and they were great in this, but the story was not good, and not improved by being given more time to hang itself. I like the shorter En of Love version better (yes I think they can and should be compared) and I’m was left simply hoping YinWar get more better work in the future. 

Coffee Melody (Mon Viki) Ep 6 of 10 - Pleng & Yi are good communicators (now) but this show is kind of boringly slow. Jean is a KILLER flirt. Like the best, really. Yi should have taken lessons.

Unforgotten Night (Weds on GaGa) Ep 10 of 12 - I got drunk this time in order to make it through. Good thing too, I I NEEDED to be drunk. Because they threw a random threesome and a highly worrying and unstable kink in the shower sequence at me. It’s such a terrible show. TRASH WATCH HERE! I’m gonna start moving this to Thursdays and watching back-to-back with LITA for alcohol consumption reasons. 

Love in the Air (Thurs iQIYI) Ep 2 of 13 - there was a spanking, so that’s something, I guess? DUMPSTER FIRE TRAH WATCH ALONG HERE.

Check Out (Sat IQIYI) Ep 12fin - hadn’t dropped yet for some reason and I could not care less. 

Work from Heart (Thurs WeTV? YouTube?) from DV8 an office BL featuring lots of other couples. Stars Love With Benefits pairing Gameplay & Folk. It isn’t even listed on WeTV streaming in my territory, but it is airing to WeTV Thailand. Probubly still hunting for distribution.  

What If (Mon WeTV) Is on WeTV but for VIP only (pay wall). Neighbors who grew up together and have special feelings for each other but keep it to themselves. And then... university.  My FairygodBLer has provided, so I’ll be reporting in on what I can get starting next week. I must rewatch WBL2 first tho. Priorities!  

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Minato’s Laundromat (Japan Weds GaGa) Ep 9 of 12 - The mystery behind Asuka and Shuu is finally explained, and as @heretherebedork​ points out, is being used as a foil for the main romance thread. Also, the director did this transition around which character is being filmed standing in doorways and on thresholds (from Shin to Minato) that was SO CLEVER I kinda lost my whole tiny mind for a while. I ended up doing an unexpectedly deep dive into this filming trick as a narrative technique on the SQUEE WATCH ALONG . And yes, I think it’s possible this came directly from the manga, the manga seems very very SMART. 

Takara-kun and Amagi-kun (Japan Thurs GaGa & Viki) 2 of 8 - I can’t believe we are getting BOTH these from Japan right now. Japan, and I say this in all seriousness, we do not deserve you. These two are so shy and awkward and cute, and it’s so high school it’s almost unbearable. But I really enjoy the way burgeoning desire works with high school characters better than in any of the other setting Japan might choose. I gnaw on my knuckles and squeal a lot with this show. The handholding is so adorable. Also Amagi is so awkwardly jerky and angular in a way that doesn’t seem overblown like it did in Kieta Hatsukoi. Clever shooting on the erotic dream sequence too. I see what you did there, Japan. Amagi’s fears are all the fears of first love (and not just queer love, anyone’s first). I really like that. Also I really love the internal dialogue that’s happening around communication. Because part of first love should be learning how to talk to each other and communicate. The way Takara communicates is so good and so important to the genre I did a whole post about it.  

Papa & Daddy 2 (Mon GaGa) Ep 4 of 8 - Taiwan handles a love triangle so differently, especially with mature characters. It’s actually kind of beautiful to watch them explore ideas around infidelity, affection, lost love, and rediscovery. Also I love the gay sibling couples sharing tips on how to manage kids and parents. 

Want to See You (Vietnam YT) Ep 13 of 14 - I definitely like it better after the time jump. But I still feel jerked around by the uke’s behavior and decisions. Golden rule of BL: he’s never asleep.

In Case You Missed It

Viki has picked up old fan favorite Ossan’s Love 1 & 2 (the original Japanese version) which I don’t like very much. 

Viki also got Korea’s Love Class, which I enjoyed. review here. 

Japan is airing キスkissキス AKA Kiss X Kiss X Kiss Perfect Scandal starring Ryuga Akahane and On Nakano, on dTV. Depicts an “extremely risque yet beautiful forbidden love between the two idols, A and B, who were in the same idol group. The fans knew that they were good friends. However, the real relationship between them is... lovers.” WHY IS THIS NOT IN FORNT OF MY EYEBALLS RIGHT NOW? (It’s poorly rated so I am assuming sadness.) I am not alone the comment thread of people trying to get ahold of this is insane, seriously Korea why are you sleeping on this idea? 

The OnlyOneOf BL universe crossover continues with part 3. Oh Kpop. 

Gossip

Oh My Assistant is going for the reshoot option. Fascinating. Honestly this says a lot about the KBL industry that it’s so cheap to produce, it’s easier just to redo the whole thing when you’ve  the option on a popular manwha. Original info on why I thought this one was DOA. I’m delighted to be proved wrong but remain nervous over the fact that this is Korean doing high heat. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting this week: About Youth turns out to be uni set, not high school (this is my sad face). Still I’m looking forward to new BL from Taiwan and it’ll be on GaGa starting Monday. 

Ending: Check Out, Want to See You. 

MIP (missing in production): Ghost Host, Ghost House. 

Coming September 2022 we hope:  

9/14 Once Again (Korea) Viki we think. From Moving Picture studio & Idol Romance (Wish You, Ryu's Wedding, Tasty Florida, Tinted With You, and Kissable Lips - also forthcoming Happy Ending Outside The Fence and The Circumstances of Pungdeok Villa Room 304) Stars actors (no idols) Moon Ji Young (also star in an upcoming BL The New Employee), Lee Hyuk Jun, and Kang Woo Jung. time-slip fantasy BL

9/16: More Than Words (Japan) Amazon Prime Video JP adaptation of Etsuko’s two mangas In The Apartment and More Than Words, starring Ryōko Fujino (Fujoshi, Ukkari Gei ni Kokuru), Yuzu Aoki (Kakafukaka), Daisuke Nakagawa (Colorful Love), and Daiki Kanechika (EXIT). 

9/26 Ai Long Nhai (Thai) no international distribution as yet. 

Coming September 2022 we hope:  

Fahlanruk (Thai) WeTV

Comfort the Boy (Korea) - got an R15+ rating for topic & vulgarity, stars idols Jaehan & Yechan BOTH from Kpop group OMEGA X.

Happy Ending Outside the Fence (Korea ) Star Leo of VIXX. 

SELF the series (Thai)

This week’s best moments?

Advising elder gay REPRESENT!!! (21 Days Theory) 

Communication represent! (21 Days Theory) 

This should have been what this series was about (Love Mechanics). Or they could have wrapped the fathers reservations up with Vee’s miss behavior making for a more complex family dynamic because Mark’s dad would have been partly justified. 

Consider I recently did a post all about comparable Asian honorifics including how nong is (and is not) like Japanese -kun, this was very fun to see pop up on my screen. Thank you Love Mechanics. 

I love this friendship group. (The Eclipse) 

Such a little shit. (The Eclipse) 

Honestly? Takara & Amagi hit it out of the park this week, I have a bunch of shots from it because ep 2 was SO GOOD. 

(I’m not gonna tell you want’s happening in this shot, you gotta watch it. SO GOOD.) 

(last week)

current earworm? Jang Woo Hyuk’s Echo 

[jboofan]

There's something about Manager Kim part 19

What up big boy

One normal conversation took days to complete.

She wasn't answering him anymore. The first few days she'd replied back that she was staying in the office late, and other days he was lucky if she even took a look at his messages.

He'd look around the lonely house, pray for her well-being wherever she was, before getting into a cold bed at night surrounded by shadows and memories of things that no longer were able to bring him comfort.

Yoongi would never openly admit to the others that he would leave her a recorded message about his day and send it, and by the morning he waited for a reply that never came.

If Jin mentioned what she was up to, it was usually the usual line. "She's been in and about. Sometimes I don't even hear from her. Which I don't like, but after a day or so she usually calls. It's usually rubbish reception though."

Yoongi was just relieved she was okay. If there was a documentary about his life, around now he would look it dead in the lens and say,

"Hi, I'm Yoongi. You're probably wondering how I ended up like this. Spilling champagne down my thousand dollar silk shirt in front of the whole world."

**

Often Yoongi would busy himself with work and there was always so much studio stuff, that he didn't have to look far. Other times he would slowly fill his house with the furniture or an object that he thought YN would like, or he'd stare endlessly at a quickly written message on a post it by her, still stuck to the fridge.

He'd brought one of those tiny printers you connected to your phone and printed out this one picture of her when she was lying there thinking; the dusk streamed in through their bedroom window and everything was still, it was perfect, it was theirs.

She'd dragged a small coffee table to the glass window, parked a little chic lamp on it, switched the lights out and simply stared out the window, settling her breathing. It must have been a little after eleven when he'd made it home; he remembered working late with Hobi on one of his tracks for Jack in The Box and had forgotten to let her know here he was.

There had been a power cut, she had only settled in a week prior, and she was too scared to travel down to the garage to check where the fuse box was.

He'd found her asleep, the phone torch as she had clutched it for dear life.

**

"Hey," Taehyung patted Yoongi on the shoulder. "Where you zone out to?" he smiled watching Yoongi getting off Taehyung's bed and head to his own room.

"Nowhere," Yoongi swallowed. "I'm gonna head to sleep. That flight was dreadful," he lied.

"Night hyung," Taehyung waved, as he closed the door behind him, walking slowly to the elevator and then back to his empty room.

The silence was all consuming, confining and deafening. Yoongi grew tired of the waiting, anticipation and then the anti climax when he never heard from her or her phone rang out long distance. He wasn't sure if he was more annoyed at the possibility of her leaving for the States or simply not telling him that she had intended to.

Yoongi tried looking for YN, chastised Jin about it so many times, eventually deciding that he didn't know anything, because he didn't.

"Yoongi-ah, I'm telling the truth, I haven't heard from her."

"Do you know if anybody else has?"

"I don't know maybe she has spoken with the others? She has got lots of friends I'm sorry I just don't know, you know YN. She has been pulling out the stops to become VP. I can't get anything out of her secretary, he keeps the cards close to his chest."

Who could he talk to? Who besides her understood the expectations of others, mirroring those thrown upon him by himself as an artist?

Who besides YN got that it angered him when people don’t meet those expectations, and absolutely devastated him when he couldn't reach them himself?

Maybe it was a hint he failed to take?

Maybe what they had was fake, the words, their actions were due to their situation, or perhaps she didn't care for him how he now cared for her.

He looked across at the empty space next to him at night, imagining her lying there smiling back at him. Yoongi laid there, often talking to himself. He knew what she would say to him if she was there, but man he wished she was there to say it.

"Jeez Suga, must be exhausting trying to be a perfect producer all the time," her teasing voice would tell him. "If you wanna sleep at the studio don't let me stop you. Stop making so much noise when you get back."

He'd smiled in the dark, turning to face her.

"I'll make you coffee in the morning," he'd offered.

"I accept your compensation, but don't think just cos you make me coffee I accept this behaviour. Chairman Bang—"

"Min," he corrected her.

She sighed and gave in quickly due to her brain being half asleep at three on the morning, "Bang-Min," she conceded, "cannot be bribed. I have a public image to uphold. However," she explained to the ceiling as he turned his pillow over again.

"Are you listening?" she scolded. "You woke me up and now you're trying to sleep. The cheek!"

"Princess, I'm fucking tired. Next time I'll just sleep at the studio okay?"

Now she felt bad. "You don't have to, then the house will be," she paused thinking of the best word, "empty."

"I'll message next time. If you let me go to sleep, I'll make you the good coffee even," he begged.

"The drip coffee??" she asked excited. "Because you need to be specific when you talk coffee."

Coffee - most people were made of 60% water, but he was sure she was made up of 50% coffee and equal measures of sass.

"The expensive shit," it was fun to see her all awake and asking him questions.

"Clarification requested."

"Denied."

She sat up, "Monkey Min, you cannot end a conversation on coffee with 'The Expensive Shit'."

Yoongi yawned loudly as she shook him until he could no longer ignore her.

"Fine, fine. The Hawaiian one I saw in the cupboard." He dare not admit to her that he couldn't read English well, but had recognised the words Hawaiian and Coffee.

Yoongi was sure she squealed. Her fingers were wiggling in the dark as she tried to hide it and sound unaffected.

"I ran out of Hawaiian Kona Coffee. Approximately two weeks and four days ago though.."

"Did we? I thought I bought some more..." he teased her before admitting he had finally found a small bespoke coffee place miles away and bought their remaining supply.

"I'm so exited I can't sleep!"

Yoongi whacked her hard with a pillow, almost beheading her.

"Shut up and sleep. Or I won't make it for you in the morning."

YN lay back on her side of the bed. She turned to face him to ask one last question but he knew she just had to say one last thing: She never could let him have the last word.

"Princess. Shut the hell up before I put something in your mouth to make you."

She rolled her eyes. Of course he would still be able to produce a dick joke at 3am.

"You are just gross."

**

"Just come back," he sighed, staring a hole into the spotlight above him.

See in his mind, they were perfect for eachother; he was an insanely humble guy who can’t remotely begin to navigate a common social situation, and YN; a sarcastic girl who devotes all her time to protecting others, but won’t confront issues in her own personal relationships.

In his case, his extreme sensitivity could make him feel good about the aspects of himself that he somehow knew are good; his ability to sketch a decent picture, produce a hit song, or the ability to love this prickly and beautiful human being. 

But it also caused deep seated hatred of those traits he happened to loathe; not being able to help her if she needed him, bottling up his feelings, or the inability to say what he wanted to say. But she had this way of shining light through his darkest points and muscling her way into his life.

Needless to say, every day melted into the next until it was all one big blur, and after three weeks he heard nothing from her. Yoongi began leaving his phone away from him, not looking at it five thousand times a day. He also tried to not reread messages, or gaze at her pictures either. It was just too painful. The phase only ever lasted a few hours and then he was back to pining for her.

*

Head under the power shower, Yoongi stood, hand against the cold wall tiles as the 38°C temperature pummeled down his back, splashing against the fogged up shower screen. Gentle jazz music from his speaker resonated loud enough to drown out his own sighing. Which he did daily. A lot.

It was also too loud to hear a certain wife trying to call him for the first time in a long time. 

Tucking a towel around his low slung waist, forgetting about his phone and now turning on the TV,  Yoongi pulled out his clothes for the day, his hand wavered as he touched an item of her clothing.

It was technically his, a woolly cardigan she had adopted as her own, and even after this long it still held her scent. Albeit, barely but it was there. Hints of soft femininity, of jasmine lingered upon him as he held it closer for a quick deep breath before carefully placing it back on a hanger.

Sometimes it was hard to have enough courage to deal with any situation. He knew she wouldn't sit tight for long, and would be out there saving the world in one way or another; or having men drop at her feet, or maybe her mother had finally convinced her to divorce him; but that came with a price and he was worried that something had happened to her.

If it has would anyone know to tell him? What if she was trying to get home to him and she was trapped, or being tortured somewhere? How would he find her? 

Contact between them had slowed down to a silent halt, and when contact had become next to impossible due to incessant signal failures or time differences etc all he could do was wait and hope.

Whilst other people were able to garner a regular relationship, Yoongi simply hoped for meeting YN just once or even just speaking to her. That feeling of desperation to just see her was killing him but he knew he had to trust her on this. He often fantasized, and fell into the same daydream again about the moment he would set eyes on her after that long difficult wait. In his dreams he imagined getting all teary eyed and hugging her so tight to never let her go, and then carrying her off to bed to fuck her seven ways to Sunday till neither of them could walk.

But not all his thoughts were on physicality. There were other times where even whilst he rested with everyone else, he felt alone and disheartened. He tried to remain positive, and found himself often forcing himself to smile for the sake of it, sweep his thoughts under the rug and just get on with life. He clutched her cardigan to him and fell asleep.

**

The boys started their first full day in Paris, on the rooftop restaurant, overlooking the Eiffel Tower enjoying breakfast before a spot of sight seeing before the fashion show that afternoon.

Jin could tell straight away that Yoongi was agitated so he limited conversation knowing that's what happened when Yoongi was like this. It was rare but the man was still human, and whatever he was going through after YN left couldn't have been easy.

He had tried talking to him, but after a while Yoongi slowly returned to normal and Jin thought he was coping OK. But this morning was not one of these mornings.

"You cool Yoongi-ah?" Jin stopped stuffing his face and took a sip of coffee slowly instead.

"I'm fine, why does everyone keep asking me that?" he snapped.

"Yeah, you definitely sound happy," he replied sarcastically looking at him sideways.

"Why keep longing for something that clearly isn't going to happen?" Yoongi sighed a little too deeply.

Jin didn't know what to say to that. "You don't know that. You guys have been through some shit and she's away doing some work and then she'll be back."

"She could have done that here. I wasn't going to stop her from doing whatever she needs, I would have tried to help her."

"Maybe what she had to do you couldn't help her with. I dunno, maybe it was CEO type stuff??" Jin replied as Yoongi's phone continued to ring.

"Your phone's ringing dude."

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed as he got ready to leave.

"Well whoever it is, is definitely tryna get hold of you bro." Jin tried to get the attention of a waiter for more coffee.

The crackly line evened out as YN hunched down to buckle a shoe.

"Miserable Min," she called out as he replied with a hello, out came a voice so clear for once that she almost kissed her new phone for finally making a phone call that didn't cut out after one ring.

She'd tried in vain to call him so many times in the last week or so, and today it cut off due to the fact she was standing near the top of the Eiffel Tower in a tight dress and a pair of heels for Vogue Paris.

"You okay handsome? I'll see ya soon!"

It was the first thing that came out her mouth before hello, how are you, how have you been, are you sure you've been punished enough, Jin told me you've turned into a recluse? 

It was the only statement she made and then the call cut off.

"YN? Is that you? YN? Are you okay? It's me, Min Yoo—?!" he dumbly shouted back but it was too late.

YN stared at her phone in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she swore at the phone as secretary Kim came running over.

"Ma'am?"

YN handed the phone over to him in disgust, "I paid a thousand bucks for this phone, so it could simply cut out on me before I had the chance to annoy him! Now he thinks I think he's handsome!"

"But I thought they were all handsome, one might argue that they are all visuals," he countered.

"You need to stop reading internet articles, they usually chat shit Kim. And I was gonna tell him I'll be back in the country in the next coupla days."

"Shall I call him back? I must admit the reception is unsatisfactory, especially as the Eiffel Tower could be used as a cell tower."

"We got no time. After this, we need to go to the show for a run through. Never mind, I'll just call them after the show. Did they get the tickets?"

"Yes. Celine arranged for them to be here. But I don't know how many will be coming. I didn't get the opportunity to advise them of your presence. I forgot to tell —"

With no time to scold him for his miniscule hic up, YN waved the possible time bomb away, flicked her hair and went back to the shoot.

"I forgot to tell you, Mr Min would be here.. Maybe it's a good thing though," he told himself. "These two can finally sort things out."

Beyond pissed that he hasn't been able to tell her anything except his name Yoongi felt the world was magically made of candy canes and rainbows hearing her voice.

The entire world be damned, heck, let the world go to hell, she had called him and Yoongi had heard her words!

Jin was almost at the lift when he felt a flash of wind upside his neck and the words "move over" came blasting past him.

Yoongi was up to his room, smiling as he pulled out his clothes, grinning as he showered and so ecstatic that he kept forgetting to breathe. Coughing and spluttering he went through his day in a haze. 

She was coming home. And she called to tell him he was handsome. It meant she was alive. And thinking of him.

"Keep holding on" was the right phrase to describe that ever persistent feeling he held back. "She's coming home."

Celine Runway 5pm

"It's a bit loud isn't it?" Yoongi called out to Jin again. Nothing. It didn't even register with his friend.

"It's a fashion show, it's not like they're going to come out with no music on."

"It's not a concert, it doesn't have to be so loud! They're just walking literally in a straight line, ai don't understand the fascination."

"Well YN got us these invites, so if you can't say anything nice, just shut up and sit there," Jin snapped. "Put a damn smile on your face; there's cameras everywhere."

"It's OK," Taehyung clapped excitedly, "I managed to get hold of YN. That bad bitch is here!"

"In Paris?" Yoongi nearly choked.

"At the show!" Taehyung corrected him, as Yoongi craned his neck looking around the crowds.

"She is!?" he all but screamed as he was forced to sit still and watch several models walk out parading the new Summer Autumn collection.

Not that Yoongi cared. This was the last place he expected to be, and it was the last place on earth YN would ever think she would clap eyes on Min Yoongi.

As the guest model for today's show, no one was more shocked that Yoongi to see a woman stalk down the run way, in a glittering dress that followed for some distance, a twinkle in her eyes her snappy heels clickity clacking down the way.

Yoongi had heard that walk before. People would think he was crazy, but it was like explaining to someone that you could figure out who was running down your home's stairs by listening to the sound of their footsteps.

And he could definitely tell when the sassiest woman to ever exist snapped her heels right past him.

"I've been trying to call you pabos for ages," an excited voice said as it stopped by them.

Yoongi looked up from his champagne flute, the shock of it all making him spray the contents of it all down his top, narrowly missing those surrounding him.

"YN?" he choked out, she looked, well like YN but not as he knew or saw her. She looked like a damn hot super model.

"Hey big boy. Miss me?" she turned to meet his gaze, gave a wink before turning at a sharp angle and walking back to the curtains.

[inkykeiji]

Many sad thoughts running through my head but I can imagine Dabi having trust issues as you and the other anon saying. Him being afraid of getting left behind. I feel like he would say “I didn’t mean to say I love you” at some point because that’s a type of vulnerable he doesn’t want to be but it’s just one of many thoughts

AHHHHHHHH anon anon why must u hurt me like this?????? pls my whole heart just broke at this and i uhhhhh wrote 1.7k words about it,,,

❅ cw: soft dabi, angst, rly sappy ❅

It seems to happen at the most random of times. It isn’t like the movies, isn’t ever after some profound incident or momentous occurrence shared between the two of you—no, it’s always right after the most mundane things; after he catches you brushing your teeth in a cute matching set of panties and a tank top, sticking out your tongue at him, mouth full of foamy white toothpaste; after he finds you curled up on the couch buried under a fluffy blanket, nothing more than a lump and a head as your eyes rapidly scan the pages of the book in front of you, entirely absorbed in whatever world it’s built for you; after he walks into the kitchen to see you by the sink washing a few dishes, hips swaying and head nodding as you hum along to whatever song is blasting through your headphones.

But God, does it hit him like a motherfucking bus every single time, punches him in the stomach without warning, knocks the breath straight out of him.

He’s usually good at keeping it to himself, usually able to swallow it back down when those three little words begin to creep up his throat, dancing on the back of his tongue and restricting his breathing.

But eventually, he messes up.

You had started it, right after you had finished sprinkling the pizza stone with some flour while he was rolling out the dough, wiping your powdery fingers down his t-shirt, then swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, leaving a streak of white flour painted in its path, a little mischievous smile on your face and glint in your eyes.

He retaliates immediately, grabbing a pinch of flour from the bag and flicking it right in your face.

“Dabi!” you gasp, but your shoulders are shaking with silent laughter as you wipe at your face, fingers only managing to leave more strokes of the substance instead of clearing it. Your hand dives into the bag, grasping a handful of flour, inhaling deeply—enough to expand your entire chest—before blowing air out of your mouth, casting tiny, thick explosions of white at him, speckling his shirt and dusting his inky hair.

“Oh, you little brat,”

And, fuck, you look so goddamn beautiful, giggles ringing out around the room, flour strewn in your messy, tousled hair, smears of it across your cheeks and neck, sprinkled on your clothes, eyes bright and breathing laboured with exhilaration as you daintily leap away from him.

They’re bubbling up in his chest, those three stupid little words, climbing up, up, up his throat to settle on his tongue, light and sweet, floating in his mouth like candy floss and melting on his tongue only to be resurrected by another one of your giggles, or playful yelps, or squeals of his name.

And he’s too preoccupied to remember to swallow them down, to chew and chomp on them until he’s crushed them into a thousand tiny pieces as he chases you around the kitchen while you throw clouds of flour at each other, too enraptured by the soft, cute, precious sounds he’s endlessly pulling from you, too hellbent on hearing more, a man possessed.

Because he hasn’t laughed like this in ages, isn’t sure he’s ever laughed like this in his entire life, and they just slip out, when he finally catches you, chest heaving a bit from the thrill of it all as large hands curl around your shoulders.

“God, I love you,”

They’re muttered softly, just a huff of breath, really, blanketed by his laughs and yours, and you nearly miss them.

Nearly.

And then, everything stops. Your laughs abruptly cut off, and he wishes he’d have missed the sharp intake of breath you inhale through your mouth, lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring at him as your body freezes up, going rigid in his grasp, feet fused to the floor.

He stops, too, lets go of you so quickly you’d think your skin burnt his palms through the thin material of your shirt, sapphire eyes growing wide—wider than you’ve ever seen them before—as his mind catches up with his mouth, stumbling a few steps back from you.

He wants to say something, anything, but his voice is caught in his chest, fading into pathetic squeaks of breath any time he tries to force a few words out. And it aches, heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, breathing shallow—almost ceased completely—as he stares unblinking at you, sharp, tingling anxiety flooding his veins.

And you—well, you’re staring at him with this look in your eyes, something that he can’t decipher, and it makes his stomach lurch. It’s a look he’s never seen before, your eyes shining as you gaze at him, almost glittering as you stare at him, unmoving, unbreathing, unexplainable. Are you upset? Angry? Disgusted? Stunned? A combination of all four? None at all?

The fact that he can’t tell, that he doesn’t know, when he prides himself on being able to read others so insanely well, ignites flames of anger that alight his entire body, right to the tips of his fingers and his toes, blazing straight through the anxiety and simmering in his chest, eyes hardening as they glare back at you.

A beat passes, your ears ringing from the thick, tense silence draped over the room, and then he’s pushing past you roughly with a choked snarl that sounds a little like a mix between a sob and a growl, and storming out of the kitchen.

He’s cut off all communication entirely, has been ignoring you for a few days now, only leaving his bedroom out of absolute necessity and refusing to answer any of your countless texts that have been collecting on his lockscreen, refusing to even touch his phone. He doesn’t want to see what you have to say, desperately tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care, that he isn’t scared of what your messages might reveal, isn’t terrified of that impending rejection he’s so sure is lurking on the horizon.

But there’s only so long he can keep avoiding you before you finally catch him in the kitchen, just past three in the morning, fixing himself a late-night snack.

“Oh, thank God,”

He whirls around at the sound of your voice, cobalt eyes gaping for a moment before narrowing into sharp slits an instant later.

“Dabi, listen—”

“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “You listen, I don’t want to fucking talk about it, alright?”

Leaping in front of him, you block his path, prohibiting him from leaving the kitchen and speaking quickly. “Yeah? Well I do!”

“I don’t care,” he spits viciously, the ache throbbing deep in his chest—at the very core of his body—reminding him otherwise. “There’s nothing to talk about, anyway! It’s not like I meant them,”

And that—that gets you to stop, tripping a little over your own feet as you stumble back like he’s physically slapped you, a soft, hurt little whimper getting caught in the back of your throat as tears rapidly pool in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Wh-What?”

He glares down at you, molars grinding together as his nose twitches.

I didn’t mean to say I love you.

What a pathetic fucking sentence—it’s almost laughable, the corners of his lips quirking up in a sardonic little grin. Your breath hitches, and his shoulders tense at the sound.

‘You aren’t supposed to know I love you’ is much more accurate, his mind sneers at him. Coward. Fucking coward.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, though his voice is beginning to quiver, trembling hands curling into tight fists in an effort to stop it, short nails biting into the flesh of his palm as the skin stretched taut over his knuckles turns bone white.

“Didn’t mean what?” you whisper, glistening tears finally spilling over and streaming down your cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of salt water behind them. “Say it, Dabi,”

He’s got his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head, knows if he opens them, if he looks at you, that he’ll break, shatter into a thousand pieces, split himself open at the very core of his body and bare his entire soul to you.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

His jaw flexes once, slowly exhaling out his nose.

“Dabi, look at me,” a pause. “Please?”

“No.”

“W-Why?” the word escapes your lips in a little whine, broken up by your sniffles.

You know why.

But it’s those little half-sobs, the ones that keep catching painfully in your chest, that do it, interspersed with your soft whimpers as you plead with him—please, open your eyes, just look at me for a second, please!

Unable to stand it any longer, his lids finally rise, slowly revealing sparkling sapphire, glowering at you, his harsh gaze protected by a thin shield of water.

He hates this, hates not having control over his own fucking body, over his own fucking thoughts, hates the unfamiliarity of it all, of the unpleasant fluttering in his stomach and burning in his throat, swallowing thickly past the hard lump that’s formed, constricting his breathing.

Revolting, his inner voice snarls at him. You’re weak, letting some stupid little girl get to you like this, as if you even—

Your touch silences the voice, cutting it off midsentence, his whole body flinching at the soft, small hand resting so tenderly against the curve of his face, subconsciously nuzzling his cheek into your palm a second later, eyes slipping shut again.

“Dabi,” you begin, and something has changed. You no longer sound hurt, no longer sound wounded, your voice gentle and—

No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to him right now. Panic grips his heart, puncturing it with its claws, sending blistering, sharp pain searing through his chest and slicing him open, raw and vulnerable.

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, words tumbling from his lips without his permission, voice frail, fragile, broken.

Don’t. He doesn’t want to hear them, doesn’t need to hear them, can’t bear to hear them—not if they’re false, fake, uttered out of misplaced pity and sympathy.

“I love you, too,”

A pathetic hiccup gets caught in his throat and he chokes on it, chest stuttering as he shakes his head, lids clenching tightly against the unfamiliar sting of tears, lips pressed together firmly to stifle the tiny distressed sounds that keep crawling up his throat, trying to escape.

There’s no way, she’s lying, how could she ever—

“Yes,” you whisper, thumb caressing his jaw. “I love you, too,”

[flowerwrites06]

thinning thread — jjk

Plot: In the heat of a tumultuous rough path in their marriage, Jungkook is handed their last resort. 

Pairing(s): Jungkook x Writer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 2k+

Genre: Marriage!AU 

Tags & Warnings: angst, rough marriage, divorce, explicit smut 

Authors Note: sorry the reposting has been a little slow, everyone! the end of feb was a little rough but I’ll try to get the fics out as soon as I can. 

ALSO requests are currently open and they’ll close on Sunday! So be sure to fill the request form HERE

Days turned to, weeks turned to months the blanket of home they knitted together now stripped to nothing but a pathetic string. Both of them dangling and swinging on it pretending that the world around them didn’t just crumble beneath their feet. It started with regular fights over the lack of time they spent together; the usual reason most couple would go through a lovers’ spat. Then fights were followed with silent treatments lasting days on end to point where one of them would be out of the house completely.

Paranoia kicked in soon afterwards as Jungkook saw Belle chatting with one of her clients leading to yet another exhausting argument about her supposedly cheating. Jungkook left home that night for three days until he came back without saying a word. Belle spent more nights in her office using a glass of wine to loosen herself up and get some sleep while writing herself to near madness.

Her publishing company even asked her if she was okay after her latest manuscript submission stating it had a lot more disturbing themes than her usual works. Belle simply stated that things changed. Happiness wasn’t a fucking commonality anymore and the themes she wrote now seemed more realistic.

Jungkook spent hours in the gym, punching bags until the skin on his knuckles ripped apart breaking himself down enough to get some damn shut eye. He was getting a lot more complaints from his producers these days saying he had too much of a short fuse nowadays. Which, to prove their point, he ended up snapping and earned himself a break away from sending in anymore songs until he got himself sorted.

Swinging and swinging on this thinning thread, it all dwindled down into one night.

Instead of going back to her office for the night, Belle paid a visit to her lawyer about a set of paperwork that she needed organized. Thankfully the name she made for herself allowed the time to finish all these documents were significantly lessened. The next day after making her request she was able to have the papers in her hand.

-

As she walked into the apartment the woman realized how long it had been since she walked into their home at this hour. The twilight sky looked like a painting through the large panned windows, creating a beautiful silhouette of the city buildings. For a moment Belle could have smiled until she heard chain clanging and something thudding.

Jungkook began his attack on what could have been his fifteenth punching bag this fortnight, not caring about the world around him.

She sighed, placing her bag on the kitchen counter before stomping over to the man with her brown envelope in hand. “I need to talk to you.” Belle announced trying to sound louder than the punching bag thudding and clanging.

The man gave the bag one harsh punch before letting out a deep sigh, a droplet of sweat . “I’m not in the mood.” He mumbled immediately causing a rush of fury in her belly.

Belle tightened her jaw her whole body urging to just throw the papers on the floor until he sees it. But she took a long, drawling breath as she walked closer to the male who proceeded to assault his punching bag. “This is important.” She spoke firmly. “Just listen to me for one second.” She pursed her lips when Jungkook finally held onto the punching bag to pause for a moment.

Though the male still glared at her a little making her heart drop.

She remembered when he used to look at her with eyes soft and sparkling. Now all she felt was hate radiating from him. Belle handed the envelope over which he accepted, ripping off the top carelessly before pulling out the papers.

Jungkooks’ brows furrowed when he skimmed through the contents of the document. “What the hell is this?” He fumed.

“Divorce papers.” Belle replied simply.

He tightened his jaw still staring at the words on the pages instead of looking up at her. “I need a pen.” Jungkook muttered quietly before walking past her towards the living room.

Chest clenched tightly but she let out a quick breath before following him along watching him walk towards the sitting area.

Belle’s brows furrowed when she noticed they were walking away from the staircase to the study to get a pen. Instead she saw Jungkook pad towards the couches, to the fireplace sitting in front of them still running to keep the place warm and cozy. Even though the atmosphere was anything but that.

It didn’t take long until finally she saw Jungkook tossing the papers and empty envelope right into the fire. Stammering she watched the flames rise higher before dissipating the documents, their names burned away achingly slow. “Jungkook.” She tried to move past him to grab the remnants of the papers but both her arms were grabbed to keep her in place.

“Are you trying to hurt me now? Huh?” Jungkooks’ eyes burned into hers, hair matted to his glistening forehead.

Belle yanked out of his grasp which made his move his arms but he still stood dangerously close. “Don’t try to make me look like the bad guy here.” She seethed. “We’ve tried to fix this but it’s not working. You didn’t even want to talk to me when I walked into the room.”

“Because I thought you were going to start up another fight which clearly you were.” He gestured harshly towards the fireplace.

“Do you have a better idea?” Her vision grew blurry. “Because I don’t want to wake up another morning feeling like you hate me.” Belle hadn’t spoken about her feelings to the man in a long time. So long that expressing it now made her feel utterly exposed.

“You really think I hate you?” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth. “You really think I’d still be in this apartment because I fucking hated you?”

“When was the last time you told me you loved me then? Hm?” Tears streamed down her face, mascara smudging at the corners of her eyes a little. “When was the last time we actually spoke to each other without yelling or crying?” Belle sobbed out.

“That doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.” He protested, his eyes glistening even in the dimmed warm light. “How did you even think I would sign those papers, huh?”

Belle shrugged weakly, smiling a little sadly. “Maybe you’d be happier without me.”

His eyes twitched as he pursed his lips together tightly. “Would you be happier without me?”

Her heart felt tired at this point tightening around itself as if trying to push out all the hurt or keep it all in. Happiness wasn’t a commonality for sure. But would it be any better if she couldn’t see him altogether? Spending years thinking of what could have happened if they just—kept holding onto that thread?

Without uttering a single word, Belle merely shook her head. In a second she was reminded at how well Jungkook still was at knowing what she needed right at that moment.

A small tear escaping down his cheek, Jungkook grabbed her by her cheeks and pressed a warm kiss against her lips. He could taste a saltiness on her dampened lips before his hands trailed down, wrapping them around her waist to cancel out any distance between them. He was fucking done being so far away from his baby, unable to touch her because they were too stubborn to say sorry. With a swift motion he picked her up and impatiently pressed her down against the fluffy rug.

Belle pulled at her scarf which was quickly pushed away and her cardigan lay as a blanket underneath. Fingers hooked on the hem of his cold T-shirt before pulling it over his head and discarding no one cared where. She felt his nails firmly graze up her thigh, hooking onto her panties and pulling it down only one of her thighs roughly. The thin piece of clothing dangling on her left ankle as Jungkook devoured her lips not wanting to unlock their tongues dancing.

His bulging shorts rubbed against her bare core making her moan against his lips. Jungkooks’ still wrapped hand pulled at her hair to press her further down on the floor. He watched her mouth part, small gasp passing through as his hips rubbed against her pooling core. “Look at me.” He spoke in a raspy voice, lust blown and glossy eyes piercing into her. “I want you to look at me.” He whispered, forehead pressing together as he carelessly pushed down his shorts to let his desperate cock free.

Belle felt his thick, wet tip rub up and down her sleek heat, walls already clenching to a get an aching taste of him inside her again. “Please—” A choked scream broke out of her when the man slammed into her. Her pussy swallowed up every inch of his cock, aching a little after being long-deprived from the stretch. She kept her gaze did not waiver however watching him contort his face in pleasure.

Jungkook could barely hear himself think after feeling his whole member hugged by that familiar heat. So deliciously tight and warm, he could stay like this forever if he could. “Fuck I missed you.” He whispered, hot breath hitting her face before he kissed her again, sighing in relief as he began thrusting into her. Every snap of his hips hit hard and deep wanting to make his movements embedded in their minds so they forget just how fucking good they felt together.

She grabbed onto his shoulders for dear life, legs spread out welcomingly for him to destroy her desperate heat. All her long hibernated nerves now jolted awake by the beautiful friction between them, electrifying her body.

He pulled apart the front of her dress, a few buttons flying off but Belle couldn’t care less. Neither of them could. This was the closest they had been in months. Nothing was going to stop them from spewing out all their bottled frustrations.

Belle felt his hot mouth press wet kisses on the curve of her breast, teeth grazing against the tender skin making her smile in bliss. Fingers gripped at the roots of his slightly damp hair reaching down to kiss his head. A gasp caught in her throat when he thrusted into her faster pushing to the limits of her release but she pushed him away.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed out staring at her confused but he quickly saw what she wanted.

Belle pushed on his chest to make him lie on his back before straddling him, the panties on her ankle slid away. She raised herself over his erect cock and slowly let her core devour him again causing a small groan under Jungkooks’ throat. His hands instinctively moved under the skirt of her dress, squeezing her bottom. Still her eyes fixated on him as her hips swayed, feeling his tip rub against her sweet spot making her legs melt.

She moved her hands to where his were and Jungkook immediately intertwined their fingers together. Belle carefully unwrapped the black cloth around his knuckles as the male sat up now, wanting to feel her closer.

Pressing a small kisses on his healing wounds, she quickened her pace.

Jungkook grabbed the back of her neck and intoxicated her with another kiss while his other hand guided her hips.

Belle held onto his shoulders now and bounced on his cock, the sheer pressure against her sweet spot could throw her over the edge in minutes. Arms wrapped around him as her teeth sunk into his skin, muffling her moans. Fingers ran through the hair on the back of his head, lips pressing messy kisses on his neck and cheek. “I love you.” She whispered in his ear.

The male grabbed the side of her neck again forcing her to meet his gaze. Thumb brushed the corner of her teary eyes, mascara smudging across her temple on his finger pad. Lips were barely hovering one another as Belle slowed her thrusts. “I love you too.” He sighed out the words, grabbing bits of her hair before pressing on her warm lips. “I love you so much.” His latter words were mumbled but Belle still heard them.

A small sob shook through her seeing that warmth again. One she hadn’t seen it in so long that it almost felt like dream but Jungkooks’ hands on her skin reminded her it wasn’t. This was all real.

Jungkook turned her around to lay on her stomach, legs straightened out and spread so he could sneak in between. His cock slid in on its own at this point with how fucked out her heat was and he didn’t waste a single second longer to continue the pace. He leaned into her, kisses lain on her shoulder and sweet words whispered in her ear.

He intertwined his fingers with a hand and Belle hugged it closer, his sweaty torso pressed firmly against her back as the onslaught of thrusts began. It was slow but it dug deep into her core and steadily patterned. Her belly pressed against the floor made it all the more easier to rub against her sweet spot and create some friction against her clit.

“Don’t stop.” She whispered giving Jungkook even more determination to torture her core with incessant pounding. Warmth gathered around her leaking heat and pleasure tickled under the skin of her thighs causing her moans to shake.

Jungkook drilled into her, his own moans melting with her as his climax now flooded his entire form, his hand gripping onto hers like it was a part of him.

Belle cried out, trying to muffle the pitch by pressing her lips against the back of his hand. The heated release making her legs shake under him uncontrollably. Cheek pressed against the rug now, she bit down her bottom lip, tears still flowing out of her from the force of her orgasm mixed with everything else.

He filled her up with his release uttering the most delicious whimpers and moan before kissing her cheek softly. “You okay, baby?” Jungkook whispered, caressing her tear stain cheek.

Belle smiled quickly, nodding even though fresh tears still fell turning to face him properly. “I’m glad you didn’t sign it.” She giggled through her light sobs.

Jungkook chuckled leaning in and lay a soft kiss on her salty lips. “I’d never leave you, baby.”

“Promise?” She asked in a whisper.

“Promise.”

Another thread now knitted with the one they had been dangling on, making them that tiny bit stronger than they were yesterday.

[perlukafarinn]

sequel to this fic (read it for context. or don’t, i’m not the boss of you). i blame @hermywolf for this.

Things were tense for a while. 

Now, Dean knew why he was awkward. He’d offered himself up as Benny’s personal human juicebox and something in his fucked up, wires-crossed brain had gotten so turned on by the act, he’d been about point three seconds away from grinding on his friend like a sophomore at prom. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of Benny or Cas acting so weird.

Benny, and there was no other way to put it, had gotten really touchy-feely. Dean hadn’t realized how rare a non-violent touch was in Purgatory until it wasn’t anymore, until Benny kept putting his hands on Dean’s body, on his back, his shoulder, even his knee as they sat by the fire pit at night. Every touch casual and yet rife with some meaning Dean couldn’t comprehend, and every single one leaving Dean yearning for more. 

And then there was Cas. When he wasn’t hovering over Dean, constantly appearing between him and Benny, he was lingering somewhere behind them, sour-faced and glowering off into the distance. 

So yeah, tense. 

It was the first time Dean was actually thankful for the unending stream of monsters in Purgatory. The near constant combat didn’t leave much time to worry about anything else. Dean was almost convinced that they could get past this whole episode without mention, given enough time and distance and distraction by monsters.

Then Benny had to go and get hurt again.

It wasn’t life or death this time but it was close enough, a lucky swipe from a werewolf nearly tearing a hole open in Benny’s chest.

Cas got to him first again, heaving Benny to his feet and easily holding his weight when it turned out Benny’s legs couldn’t quite support him. Dean got there second, a few moments later, heart pounding as he surveyed the damage.

He met Cas’ eyes.

“Dean, no,” Cas said, catching on almost quicker than the idea had passed through Dean’s mind. “You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Dean said, face growing warm for reasons he really didn’t wanna examine. “You’ll heal me after, right?”

Cas sighed. “You know I will.”

“He’s right, cher,” Benny spoke up. “Gimme an hour or two to heal, an’ I’ll be fine. You don’t gotta do this.”

Dean ignored him, stepping in close and pulling down his collar. “Shut up and let me help you.”

Benny laughed, low and strained. “If you insist...”

He leaned in and Dean closed his eyes in anticipation, one hand grasping Benny’s shoulder to steady himself. It wasn’t enough, the sudden pain of fangs sliding into flesh sending him stumbling against Benny until an arm wrapped around his waist, holding him still. 

Heat stirred in Dean’s gut and he quickly tried to focus on the pain, on the unnatural pull of Benny’s mouth, on his knees still aching from the earlier fight.

It didn’t work. Somehow, the pain just threw the pleasure into sharper relief. It was all too much; Benny’s warmth against his side, his mouth hungry and insistent, his fingertips digging into Dean’s skin as he tried to pull him even impossibly closer. 

Dean opened his eyes and oh, big mistake. Cas was right there, inches away, still holding Benny upright as he drank his fill of Dean’s blood, staring into Dean’s eyes with a look that might almost be mistaken for hunger.

Dean should have looked away but he couldn’t. He felt trapped, pinned down by the monster at his throat and the divine creature staring him down.

A pained gasp escaped Dean’s lips as Benny pulled away his fangs. He didn’t back off completely though, mouth remaining at Dean’s throat as he carefully licked up every drop of blood. Dean shivered, knowing he should be recoiling in disgust and not fighting off every instinct to lean in closer. 

Finally, it was Cas who put an end to it, grabbing Benny by his hair and pulling him off. “Enough.”

Benny shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Easy there, chief. Can’t a man enjoy a meal in peace?”

He wasn’t being serious, Dean knew. He was just trying to rile Cas up. 

Did that make it more or less fucked up that hearing Benny refer to him as ‘a meal’ kind of turned him on?

“You are not a man,” Cas said, voice low and dangerous. “And Dean is not yours to consume with reckless abandon.”

Holy fuck.

Dean glanced between them as they now stared at each other, Cas all righteous anger, Benny stubborn as a mule. The moment stretched on, tension building, and as Dean was sure something was about to snap, Benny looked away.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, laughing breathlessly. 

Dean shot him a curious look but he didn’t say anything else, letting go off Dean and backing away. Dean stumbled on unsteady legs but Cas was there in an instant, arm around his lower back and hand raised to cover the wound on his neck.

It was too much, too fast. Dean’s head was spinning, still trying to comprehend everything that had happened in the last few minutes and drawing a blank on any plausible explanation. He felt lightheaded too, the blood loss finally catching up with him, and as warmth poured from Cas’ hand, healing him, all he could think was

Have Cas’ hands always been that big?

*

The third time it happened, it wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination necessary. 

Still, Benny had broken his leg. Even if it would only take a few hours to heal it would still slow them in the meantime. And even if he could still fight in this condition, why make an already difficult situation even worse when they had such an easy solution?

Cas didn’t protest this time. He took one look at Dean and sighed, sounding defeated. “If you must.” 

Guilt stirred in Dean’s chest, strangely enough. “It’s easier for all of us this way, right?”

Cas didn’t look like he agreed. “Let me know when you need me to heal you.”

And he stormed off. Dean watched him go, the guilt growing stronger. Which was ridiculous, what the hell did he have to feel guilty about? Cas healed him without complaint after any other kind of injury. What made this so different?

Dean looked at Benny, who was sitting on the ground with his broken leg, watching the proceedings with an odd look on his face. His expression softened when he met Dean’s eyes.

“I hope you don’t feel obligated to do this,” he said. “You don’t owe me anything, you gotta know that.”

“I know.” Dean swallowed, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I just wanna - it’s not a big deal.”

He walked up to Benny, kneeling down on the ground next to him, straddling one thigh as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“You keep saying that,” Benny said. 

He put his hand on Dean’s waist, steering him closer as if it were second nature. 

“Cause it’s not.”

Benny hummed, eyes hooded, gaze unfocused and hungry as Dean leaned in. “It is to me.”

He bit down, lighting fast, saving Dean from coming up with a response. Dean didn’t bother to silence his whimper or to resist the urge to sit down on Benny’s lap fully, drinking in the touch of him as Benny drank his life’s blood in slow, deep pulls.

He didn’t take much this time, barely giving Dean time to get used to the pain before he was pulling his fangs out again, laving his tongue over the wound to soothe the sting of their exit.

“This isn’t a one-way street, you know,” Benny muttered, lips still pressed against Dean’s neck. His tongue darted out again, licking up a stray drop of blood. “I’m sure there’s something you want I could give in return.”

And Dean didn’t doubt for one second just what he was implying. It was hard to, really, with Benny’s dick growing hard against his ass, feeling impossibly hot even through the layers separating them. 

It was tempting. No one had touched him that way in far too long and Benny was willing, more than. He wanted it as badly as Dean did and they were already half-way there, practically dry-humping on the cold, damp ground of Purgatory.

But… “Cas.”

Benny sighed. Pulled away and Dean missed the warmth as soon as it was gone. “Yeah, of course.”

“Sorry,” Dean said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for.

“Don’t be.” Benny looked up at him, a teasing glint entering his eye. “You know, he wouldn’t have to be a problem. I wouldn’t mind him joining in on the fun.”

A fuse blew in Dean’s brain. He shot to his feet, nearly stumbling over Benny in the process.

“That’s - I don’t -” Dean stuttered. “He wouldn’t!”

Benny gave him a meaningful look, though what meaning was completely lost on Dean, and got to his feet. 

Instinctively, Dean held out his hand. Benny grabbed it, grasping it tight even as he got to his feet, steady as if he’d never gotten hurt at all. He leaned in and Dean didn’t even think, staying perfectly still as Benny kissed him. 

He tasted like copper, blooming bitter on Dean’s tongue. 

“Offer still stands,” Benny said, pulling away with a grin. “If you change your mind.”

Dean stared.

“Now go find your angel and get patched up.”

An order. Okay, Dean could follow that, even if his mind was becoming more of a jumbled mess by the minute. He walked away, going in the direction Cas had disappeared to and finding him a short distance away, standing in the middle of a clearing.

He looked up as Dean approached, opening his mouth to speak but whatever he had to say dying on his tongue. Dean stopped a few feet away, suddenly feeling wrong-footed and uncertain. 

Cas closed the distance between them, slowly walking up to Dean, into his personal space and then closer still. He raised his hand but he didn’t reach for Dean’s neck, for the still-bleeding wound just below his jaw.

Instead, he softly cupped Dean’s face, placing his thumb on his lower lip. Dean froze, breath caught in his throat, heart beating wildly against the cage of his ribs like a frightened animal.

“Did he-” Cas started then stopped. 

He dropped his hand. Dean followed it with his eyes, spotting the dark smear of blood on Cas’ thumb. Dean’s blood, left on his lips by Benny.

Oh.

“Be careful,” Cas said, finally placing a hand - his other hand - on Dean’s neck and healing Benny’s bite. “Behaving recklessly in Purgatory has too steep a price.”

The warning rankled something deep in Dean’s chest. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to disobey, to lean in and smear his blood on Cas’ lips like Benny had done to him. 

He ignored it. Reckless or no, Dean wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew a rejection when he saw one.

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 15: Night

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Night Rated: T 

A/N: A continuation "Game On” and “Pixie” Marinette had been in Gotham for a little over a year now, having left behind her life in Paris to attend Gotham University.  It all started when she got involved with Catwoman, who saved her one night when she was in trouble.  Then she got roped into a little game between Catwoman and Batman, and that was how she met Jason and Roy, Red Hood and Arsenal respectively. While with Jason and Roy, they had their ups and downs. Initially she felt that the two were overprotective, but they were able to reconcile after a fateful encounter in the Iceberg Lounge.  Ever since that fateful encounter, what started as a harmless little crush began to grow over time.  For once, she got to know people who understood both the real her and her superheroine persona.  They knew her as a quick thinker in battle, and a civilian with a tendency to catastrophize things.  While she was sitting in the car with Jason and Roy, driving back from Star City.  The only sounds that could be heard were the scratching of pencil on paper, and the hum of the engine as they drove.  She tried to throw herself into her upcoming design assignments that weren’t due for another few weeks, doing anything to avoid thinking about Jason sleeping peacefully in the front seat of the car.  Tikki was nestled in her bag nibbling on a cookie and only Roy seemed to notice how quiet the drive back to Gotham was.  She had developed a close friendship with the three of them, one which wasn’t complicated by secret and civilian identities.  They had each other’s backs in combat, and they worked well as a team together.  Marinette cursed herself, for the first time in a long time, she had relationships that weren’t complicated by secrets and secret identities.   Now she was going to ruin everything just because she could not keep her heart and her feelings under control, it was pathetic.  It was easier to think that Jason was a stubborn, sarcastic brute who couldn’t possibly understand her.  He could still be stubborn and sarcastic at times, but then he had to go and have another side to him.  A side of him that cared deeply for those close to him, a group of people that now included Marinette.  It wasn’t fair.  Marinette shook her head and turned her attention back to her design work,  these patterns weren’t going to sketch themselves. It was also one of the few times she got to work with more delicate fabrics. Jason was pretending to be asleep on the drive from Star City back to Gotham, not unlike the one that happened a few months ago. It seemed like yesterday they first heard about a new superheroine who managed to take on two of his younger brothers.  Marinette was certainly a girl with many contradictions, even when they first met her on that rooftop that fateful night.  She could be very creative with her magic yo-yo, and in a fight she was usually a level-headed and quick thinker.  That much was clear to anyone who saw her in action, which was probably for the best, given that Jason had a very short fuse and a tendency to brute force his way through situations.  By the same token, the same person was prone to flying off the handle in much more mundane situations.   One time she woke up early for a test that wasn’t for another two days, and flew into a panicked stream of consciousness that made it sound like she was going to be shipped back to her home city in a matchbox if she was late.  Jason didn’t dare turn around to look at her in the backseat, but he could just about imagine what she looked like.  The scratching of pencil on paper told him that she was probably designing something that had more in common with a ball gown than body armour.  Her skills as a seamstress came in handy when their body armour needed upgrades or adjustments, not everyone could be gifted with the power of a magic body suit.  Even Hal Jordan was a test pilot long before he became a Green Lantern, Marinette was just a teenager when she got given magic jewelry. Secret identities and personas aside, at her core Marinette was still the same person.  She was kind, forgiving, but most of all she trusted him, something very few people did.  At first he wrote it off as all of them having each other’s backs in a fight. While that was true it wasn’t the whole  story, he knew because he could say the same thing about Roy.  He considered maybe it was because she managed to calm his pit madness, but that was because she had the very creatures who created them by her side.  Jason still called her “Pixie '' from time to time, really out of affection more than anything.  He only used her name when he was being absolutely dead serious.  It was a lot more than that and he knew it, he knew that she was worming her way past all the walls he had put up, seemingly without even trying.  He convinced himself that it was dangerous for all involved, that it would just leave him vulnerable in the end.  She was getting closer and closer to his heart, at which point he would be completely and utterly vulnerable.  He wanted to hold her close to him, but was afraid that she would hold his heart in her tiny delicate hands and squeeze.  

Roy was exhausted, not just from the mission, but from being caught right in the middle of two of his friends pining after each other. In the car ride back to Gotham, he could easily tell that Marinette was busying herself with design work while Jason was pretending to be asleep.  It would be cute if it wasn’t a sign that these two were actively avoiding talking to each other. Possibly because they were worried they might slip up and reveal their very obvious feelings for the other person.  He overheard Marinette confiding in the Kwamis late one night, when she thought both of them were out.   Jason by contrast was a little less expressive, but Roy could still tell that he was also pining after her, in his own little way.   He had tried to gently coax it out of them, and even though they refused to admit it Roy could tell.   Marinette was an open book whenever he even suggested the idea that she might be slightly attracted to Jason. At the slightest suggestion that there was something between her and Jason, her face would go tomato red and she would deny it.  Jason was a much tougher nut to crack, but Roy already knew that from the get-go. If Marinette wore her heart on her sleeve, then Jason kept his heart guarded with steel and lead.  He tried to ask him about it on a mission, when Marinette was out of earshot.   Instead he took a leaf out of Dick’s book and asked if it was really the time and place for a “man chat”.  The three of them could be compared to The Three Musketeers, but Jason and Marinette were more like Beatrice and Benedict from Much Ado About Nothing.  He was cursing Jason’s detective training, because it meant he would see right past a forged love note, while making things worse for Marinette.  If Roy was still drinking, he would have probably told them that they should just screw and get it over with.  He was starting to understand why Lian would smush her doll’s faces together and get them to ‘kiss’.  That gave him an idea...

Marinette and Jason were calmly watching TV together one night.  It was Valentine's Day, but neither of them really had any plans with anyone.  Staying in and waiting for chocolate prices to crater seemed like a much better idea.  Tikki was perched on Marinette’s shoulder, while Plagg was about to inhale a very large piece of camembert. The two of them were a comfortable distance apart, neither of them were willing to make the first move.  Suddenly, Roy busts in through the front door. Dressed up as Arsenal with a few extra accessories, a tutu and a pair of fairy wings he likely borrowed from Lian. He came in wide grin, wielding his bow with an odd heart shaped arrow. 

 “Happy Valentine's Day bitches!” he yelled out, taking aim at Marinette and Jason. The grappling arrow wrapping around the two, tightly binding them together on the sofa. Just as Marinette and Jason realise what just happened, Roy runs back out the door, slamming it on his way out.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Jason and Marinette were tied together, their faces mere inches apart. Marinette blushing a storm, while Jason tried to keep his composure and looked away from her.  That said, he could feel her deep blue eyes watching him, and he was fairly certain she could hear the sound of his heart beating in his chest.  Their arms were clamped firmly to their sides, and both of them thought that Roy had done this as a stupid prank.  “Did Roy tell you he was going to…” Marinette began. “...put on a tutu and fairy wings and tie us up on the couch?” Jason finished, he swallowed, she already looked embarrassed by the whole situation.  “No, did he tell you?” he asked. Marinette shook her head, “No, but he seems to have got it into his head that you’re interested in me.” she said as she tried to wriggle free, “as if that would ever happen.” “I mean...” the conversations he wrote off as late night man-chats were starting to make sense to him.  “...is that really so hard to believe?” he asked quietly.  There was no keeping her at arm’s length at that moment, physically or otherwise.  He noticed that she had stopped trying to wriggle free of the cord wrapped tightly around him. “A little,” she said, “It just seemed too good to be true,” she muttered.  “You’re one of the few people who knows about both Marinette and Ladybug, you know that they’re the same person.”  she explained, “the idea that you would be interested in me on top of all that just felt like it was too good to be true, like something will do horribly wrong sooner or later. Like there was no way the universe was going to let me be that happy.” Jason was surprised to hear that, but also he understood what she meant.  It was funny how on paper, they were two completely different people, and in some way they were.  It was moments like these that reminded them there were still similarities that kept them together.  For the first time since Roy had tied them up, he looked at her. “Marinette, take it from someone who’s a literal dead man walking. Trust me, that is not the most impossible thing out there, not even close.” he tried to say, Marinette looked up at him, trying to make sense of the meaning in his words.  “If anyone’s going to get slapped around by the universe, and feel as if they don’t deserve to have someone who’s seen different sides of them and still cares about them, it’s probably me,” he explained. 

Both of them finally knew what Roy was trying to do,  after all he had been painfully obvious. Jason himself tries to get a sharp batarang from his pocket, he assures Marinette, “Don’t worry Pixie, I’ll get us out of here and we can forget this ever happened.” 

 Marinette remains silent as Jason struggles against the wire tying them together, Tikki floats to her side and whispers into her ear. “Marinette, it's now or never.” Marinette looks back to see all the Plagg cheering her with a grunt. If lifting the piece of camembert with little enthusiasm counts as cheering. 

 Marinette takes a deep breath, and gathers her courage. “Jason?” she asks, and Jason pauses to look back at her.  Her face had a rosy pink glow as she leaned forward to give Jason a kiss. Jason pauses in shock at first before, and slowly melts to return the kiss. As the two kiss, Tikki helps untie the two. Just as Tikki finishes untying, Marinette and Jason hold each other in a tight embrace, eagerly savouring their newfound relationship. 

 Roy peeked his head through the window watching Marinette and Jason finally confess to each other. “About time you two got together” he cheered from the fire escape, giving the two a thumbs up and a big grin. This breaks Marinette and Jason from their affectionate moment together, embarrassing Marinette and annoying Jason. 

 Jason stomps over to the fire escape, Roy nervously greets Jason “Hey buddy, how’s it going?”

 Jason grabs Roy by the ankle, dangling him off the edge of the fire escape. “Pixie, why don't you give him a taste of his own medicine?” Marinete nods and walks over with the grappling arrow Roy shot at the two. 

 Roy pleaded, “Come guys, you two had it bad for each other it was obvious.” Marinette begins to tie Roy to the fire escape with the grappling wire. Roy attempts to struggle but Jason holds him down. 

 As Marinette progresses further in tying Roy up, his pleas become more and more desperate. 

 “I did you two a favour.” Roy begs, “Come on, is this how you two repay me? Help! Somebody! Batman! BATMAAAN!” Roy wailed. 

 Marinette and Jason ignore Roy’s begging. Once they were finished they both left, hand in hand, leaving Roy tied upside down to do some self-reflection. 

 BONUS 

Cupid: What's this I hear about you playing Cupid? 

Roy: Sorry, it was for two people who were actually in love. 

Cupid: Why you little- 

Roy: Cupid, it's been YEARS, you're a very attractive woman. It can't be that hard to find someone who loves you back, someone who doesn’t have a goatee.

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Just You And Me

Summary: Sam and Dean are on there second hunt to find John. They need help from the one person who hates Wendigos the most Y/n Winchester

Prequel to What's Worse Then Wednesday?

Ten years ago John had his first encounter with a wendigo a family went hiking with a full group of fifteen and no one has came down from the mountain in almost a month. Having asked a more experienced hunter John wrote down things he needed to remember as he went up the mountain a bag with Molotov ,lighters,and flare-up. It took almost a week to find the small mine shaft his brown eyes widened at the seen. Male and female limps were torn of and only some still had enough meat and clothing to be identifiable. Some bodies were on hook that resembled mountain climbing gear. None of them moved except for one. Stepping closer a six year old girl was hanging from her binder wrist her eyes look into his scared before gazing over down a tunnel a thick trail of blood went down it as tears spilled down her face. "Mommy and Daddy are gone. I next." Her voice cracked and a unhuman beastly type growl echoed. "I'm gonna get you out of here, darling." That's how John Winchester met his adoptive daughter Y/n.

Its been seven years since then and the little family the Winchester's made for themselves was falling apart. It broke John's heart that he pushed away his youngest son when he wanted a way out of this life, but when his adoptive daughter wanted to hunt more big league he almost blew a fuse. Y/n was young really fucking young to be hunting on her own,but it could have been worse she could have cut off contact with John and Dean. Now two years later John's missing and the siblings need each other.

The h/c teenager hissed as she cleaned the deep cuts on her shoulder looking into the bathroom mirror. A fucking blood suckered clawed at her shoulder taking advantage of the other two she beheaded. The burner phone on the back of the toilet rings as she grabbed it putting it between her ear and none injured shoulder. "Kinda busy Dean-o." She mumbled slipping the antibacterial cream in the cuts making the surface pink. "Dad went on a hunt and hasn't been back yet. I got a call last night and it sounds Ike somethings under it." He said the sound of baby let be know he's in the car. "Send it over to me and I'll have it back to you by the hour. You leaving New Orleans?" She ask starting to Butterfly stitch closing up the cuts. "Yeah left about two hours ago heading to California." Pausing and shacking her head. "No no no no no! You're not involving Sammy! He got out the life let him stay away and safe." Y/n finished up wrapping her shoulder as she walked out the bathroom to put on a shirt. "I need to,n/n. I won't keep him long we are just gonna check out the place dad was last at. The question is are you coming." Licking her lips she sighed. "I can't I'm in New York right now just took care of a nest in Brooklyn. I won't make it cross country for a couple of weeks." Dean let out a heavy breath. "I know,but I also know you're avoiding Sammy." Maybe the youngest wasn't the only one heart broken after one of her protectors,her best friend left in a huff and hasn't answered a single call.

The silence was drawn out as Dean's phone buzzed against his ear. "There your voice-mail put it through a gold wave. Sounds like a vengeful spirt bring rock salt for the shotgun." Dean chuckled. "Thanks baby sis...wait did you put me on mute to ignore me!?You bit—" That's when the line went dead. The h/c girl giggled as she layed on the stiff musty motel mattress. Her eyes closed,but her mind ran ramped.

The woods they were dark and seemed to loom over her. It was so quite no sound came from anywhere not even the wind dared blow. Crying filled the the air it was that of a child. It grew closer till it disappeared all together the claw marks on the trees marked the familiar place the blood soaked leaves crunched behind her causing the teen to go stiff. She knew what was behind her it was the same thing in every dream for ten convective years even if she knew her body wouldn't allow her to act she was that same scared little girl paralyzed as the horror show continued. The creature yelled,but it echoed in all directions. "HELP US!" Dean and Sam's voices shocked her awake her body pinned in fear as she looked at the Wendigo on top of her. It successfully restricting movement if her whole upper body. Blinking hard it was gone and air filled her lungs like rushing water. It meant nothing...nothing at all.

It's been almost a two weeks since Dean's call. He often text since Sam tried to high jack his phone last time he tried calling. Sam and Y/n didn't exactly end on the best of notes. "Come with me." Sammy looked at a younger Y/n who shook her head. "No. I can't leave dad and Dean. Not like this." The dust has settled after the heated argument between father and son and the rules were clear the moment he walked out those doors he stayed gone. "Don't call him that." His mood seemed to shift back to angry,but something else was there. "Call him what? Dad?" The young girl was confused now. "He's not your dad." It wasn't a secret that Sam harbored negative feeling against his sister they were never anything serious,but he still somewhat loved her just not like a sister. "You're not apart of this family you can get away,but no you're going to stay here and become their weakness!" He points at John and Dean who were just behind her. "I'm not a weakness! I got their back like they've got mine. That's what's family's for!!!" She shouted her eyes welling with tears not letting them fall,but they slip out at his next words. "Your family is dead! Did you save them then?! Maybe if you did we wouldn't be stuck with you!!!" The room was still no one dared breathed Dean stared wide eyed at his baby brother as John grew tense grasping the neck of his beer bottle in a vise grip while same looked like a deer in headlights. A sniffle brought the three men's attention to the girl. Tears streamed down her face before she used a open palm to whip her face dry. "Just go. Cause that's what you do best you runaway from your problems and wait til Dad or Dean can fix it." The thirteen year old snapped at him as she pushed on him as he just stumbled back. "You're nothing,but a coward and a pathetic one at that. I don't want to loss the little family I got for myself you're so willing to walk away from them it shows how different we are...nothing,but two strangers." He stood in the doorways as the h/c teen grabbed his packed duffle bag and threw it into his torso making him fall to the ground.. "So just FUCKING LEAVE!!!" With that she slammed the door shut. What Sam couldn't see as he drove away from the dingy motel was the mess he left behind. A father struggling to keep his kids safe,a brother torn between hunting and normalice,and lastly a adoptive sister that can't help,but be different. Sam Winchester left his family in a worse state then imaginable.

Sitting in bed I looked at my phone hoping it rang or buzzed with a incoming message that said they were fine. Y/n jumped as the screen lit up the name Batman lighting the screen. "About fucking time you jackass!" Her words were harsh,but the relief filled her voice. "Yeah we just got out of Stanford campus heading to .... now." Dean said the sound of cars and wind slightly muffled his voice. "H-how's Sam after...after you know?" One thing that Winchester’s hated was emotions and even if they weren't blood she grew up the same. Nature and nurture going toe to toe. "I don't know. You can always ask him yourself you know." The h/c teen laughed as she ran her hand down her face. "Dean-o he's the same shaggy haired asshole that said I wasn't family. I'll give him a chat when we're cheek to cheek in hell." And another thing Winchester’s sure knew how to hold on to a fucking grudge. "God you sound like Bobby said if he ever saw dad again he'd be looking down his shotgun barrel." They both chuckled as the faint sound of a ding of a convince store rang out. "Well tell Samantha same goes for him." She picked her nails as she decided to get up. "What are you morons hunting anyways did dads ex-marine crap give you a clue?" The crunch a gravel on the line grew louder. "It just had coordinates,my name,and a note saying safe place with your name." Dean opened the car door and got inside as Sam approached him. "I don't know Dean I don't have a safe place in the middle of nowhere so keep me updated,Batsy." Sam looked over at Dean who switched hands to the furthest from his brother. "Copy that talk later,Robin." That's when the keep away match started.

"Dude what the hell I want to talk to Y/n." Sam huffed as his brother closed the flip phone dropping it on the floorboards next to his feet. "Your chances of talking to her are zero to none,man. Sammy she'll talk to you when she's ready." Dean sighs as he starts the car. The youngest huffed he will admit he was a shitty brother that night and everyday following he didn't like it,but he ignored her calls for a months till they just stopped.At first he was still heated,heated, he felt guilty,then he was too busy. Sam tried calling,but it disconnected immediately meaning she blocked him. He thought he'd see her when Dean broke in but finding out she's been taking her own hunts scared him shitless. And from what Dean told him she started after the first month she trained harder taking own bigger hunts with Dad before doing normal ones alone. Sam realized by leaving he took away her only need for normalice,her want to have something other then hunting. He took her slice of the apple pie for himself.

The brothers were in the fucking woods in jeans and flannels walking with a makeshift search party for a missing kid. They were in a abandoned campsite after they lost their supplies. The signal was shot and Dean's phone was useless in most areas. He sent a text as it waited for any signal to send. "' Going in the woods with unknown creature. You know the coordinates I'll call if we need you'" That was a bit of a lie. He knew what it was before nightfall,but he didn't want her to have a panic attack he wouldn't be there to help her. The guide Roy? shot blindly in the woods after something rustled and growled like no animal. The boys ran after him as he got snatched up into the treeline which made them quickly escape back to the camp. As Haley and her brother Ben slept Dean had first watch they weren't prepared and this was the last creature he wanted his sister to hunt. Not after last time.

Dean was on a hunt with Dad and Y/n while Sammy stayed at uncle Bobby's for exam week or some shit. John never told them what they were hunting they had to discover it themselves. The hunt that was suppose to last three days,but took almost a week the tried tracking it yet nothing came up,but more missing persons. The trio decided they'd go back into the national park when it was daylight again,but they didn't need to wait that long. That night they slept Y/n sharing the bed with Dean as dad slept in the bed to the right of them it was probably the quietest night they've every had so the fact that something breezed in under their noses scares them most. Dean rolled out of the bed to the bathroom closing the door after he turned on the light it illuminated the pale skinned beast in the corner. It creeper closely to the only adult in the room gazing at his body before turning to the smaller figure in the bed breathing evenly. It crept onto the bed leaning over her body the old motel mattress creaked as it settled onto her. The weight of the creature was crushing causing her breath to come out in a hissing wheeze as her e/c eyes opened before they filled with shock. Going to scream the crushing weight on her chest pushed all the air out along with breaking a few ribs. Her hand wiggled out from under him as she wiggled her arm to hit the lamp off the table it broke onto the ground and John shot up with his gun and Dean busted out of the bathroom both froze before jumping into action the young boy running to get a lighter while John shot at it just to get it away from Y/n. The boney supernatural creature screeched getting up allowing the girl to try and roll out of the bed it struck her back blood soaked her clothing as she fell coughing roughly knowing the fall made one of the ribs stab into her lungs. The males in the room were able to set the monster ablaze quickly getting out of the room John holding his daughter. Y/n was in shock like many victims they've seen that monster was her nightmare and it casual gazed at her having the ability to kill her at any moment. After going to the hospital she stayed at Bobby's for almost a month to recover physically and mentally. Wendigos are her yellow eyes.

The next day as the followed the tracks of the Wendigo a sigh left Dean's lips as he tried to call her it rung for awhile before dial tone at least it went through,but she must have been busy. About to hand up the girl took off running after the beast made itself know Dean ran to keep up with her Sam yelling for him to wait as he stayed with her brother. She managed to trip as he went to pick her up he was hit over the head as she screamed for help as he started fading in and out and the voice-mail ended with Cries of help.

Y/n sat in her car waiting for a update text form Dean she started driving close to where he was,but didn't involve herself yet she almost got a room at the motel when her phone buzzed with a text. It was a update to come if he ever called to head over and help with a thankful sigh she back tracked from the motel and went to the dinner as she left her 0gonw on the table to order food it vibrated with a incoming call. One missed call and a voice-mail. As she grabbed her bagged lunch she grabbed the stuff off the table going back to her car as she got in the driver's seat she opened her phone to see a missed call and a voice-mail. Dean never sends voice-mails so Y/n opened it and she almost broke her foot as she hit the pedal to get to the woods. "Dean wait up~*crackle of leaves and grunts*~Come on we gotta ge—~*Female Screams followed by a thud*~ DEAN!!! *Inhuman roar before cut off*" Y/n almost had a panic attack in the car,but the adrenaline made her move faster that was sent five minutes ago. Taking a deep breath she began calling any hunter supernatural or not that knew the area well enough. "Hello?" "Hey this is the ARIA. I'm F/n F/L/N you have been hunting in the area for forty years are there any identifying landmarks within those woods? So incase of emergency?" The old man happily spoke about clearings,cabins on the edge,river,and a abounded mineshaft and where they were. She quickly thanked the man before hanging up she pulled out a satellite gps as she got looked over were she needed to go. Grabbing a backpack she loaded it with everything she needed as she took off into the wood watch as she got closer and closer with each click.

Sam's eyes fluttered open as he grabbed his bearings. Dean was next to him which mean he got captured not long after Dean and got taken. Haley,Ben,and Tommy were to the right of him they were stuck as he tried to move or at least hit Dean and wake him up. His brothers eyes sluggishly opened as he looked around before turning back to Sam in shock. The heavy foot steps creeped closer as the half clothes supernatural being looked down at them even though they were hanging on meat hooks. It moved down the line of people about to grab Tommy when a soft cry echoed in the cave. It turned around and listened closely. The brothers strained their ears to hear what it was. The Wendigo sprinted off to investigate when something else came into the Winchester’s view. Y/n stood infront of her brothers mud,sticks,and leaves on her body to mask her sent. Walking forward with a knife she cut Dean down before doing the same for Sam. The oldest went to cut down the siblings as Sam stopped his sister. "Y/n how did you get here? You shouldn't be here the monster is a—" She cut him off with a anxious smile in her face. "A Wendigo I know,but you guys needed a hero so I'm here." Dean came over to them as he stood next to his taller brother. "Sammy's right though,N/n. You got to get out of here after what happened last time. This thing is different from the last one it won't sit still for us to shoot it." He had a point, but he knew that was years ago he was still scared he couldn't protect her. "I got this I can defend myself. Get these people out of her I can distract the man eater." Handing them both a flare guns She turned towards the opposite tunnel the beast went into. "That leads straight to a river follow the flow and after it stops you're only two miles from Baby." About the protest they hear a growl. Y/n quickly sprinted further into the cave making enough noise to cover them escaping.

"OH OH HERS SHE COMES WATCH OIT BOYS SHE'LL CHEW YOU UP! OH OH HERE SHE COMES SHES A MAN EATER!!!" She sung running lighting flares leaving a trail as she ventured deeper. Y/n pulled the rubber top igniting another about to drop it when a snarl came form behind her. "Well hello beastie." She didn't turn around evening her breathing before spinning. The red light illuminated the monster in a devilish glow she wasn't a scared little girl anymore she was a Winchester and Winchester’s chase after their demons. "Just you and me now." A roar sounded throughout the damp cave. The boys turn to look back they both wanted to run back,but both of them would have pit her in more danger they were injured and a extra body to look after would put her at risk. They saw the orange hue of flames and the sound of glass breaking. Standing anxiously waiting for her to come out they were thrown back by the force of a explosion pressurized by the small space. The rock of the cave entrance was about to crumble when a head of h/c hair running out with a limp as it collapsed dust clouded the scene before them they could tell if she even got out until it settled. The youngest Winchester stumbled forward as she smiled at her brothers blood coming from her head and her split lip. "That was awesome. I did a Indian John's." Dean ran as fast as he could capturing her in a bone crushing hug. "Do some shit like that again I'll kill you then myself." She giggled as she hugged him back. "Sorry can't hear you. Explosion ya know deafening me." Y/n joked as her brother pulled away from the hug. Sam walked over slowly almost testing the waters. "Hey Y/n." He said shaky as he looked down at her. She's grown alot since last time he saw her she had more scarred and hard exterior. "Heya Sam." Her e/c orbs looked up at him they were uneasy as she smiled at him before hugging her as well. "I missed you,Jackass." Her voice was muffled by his shirt as he returned the hug. Their relationship will never be the same they both had Dean as a buffer between them,but for right now in this moment it was just the two of them Just you and me against the world.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 10: Used Tea Bags - Javier Pena

Day 10: Used Tea Bags - Javier Pena 

This takes place during season 3 of Narcos. Honestly I love season 3 Javier when he’s the boss and even more stressed and I just want to rub his shoulders and tell him it’s all going to be okay. 

Pairing: Javier Pena x reader 

Rating: 18+ language and implied sexual situations. 

November Writing Challenge Masterlist (Holy crap I am 1/3 of the way done!) 

Day 9: No, you don’t - Maxwell Lord 

It was late, the sounds of cumbia played through the open window from the bar down the street. The well worn kitchen table is covered in maps, half drunken cups of coffee, a chipped plate is covered in cigarette butts, some still smoldering, and on another is several used tea bags bleeding onto the plate. The world should be sleeping but not here, here there were plans to be made. 

Javier Pena kneeled next to the coffee table flanked by Trujillo, and Colonel Hugo Martinez on his left and Chris Feistl and Daniel Van Ness on his right. A map of Cali with different routes to the airport are highlighted. The Cali police force are crooked as hell so they needed a way around them, if they got in there and actually found Gilberto Rodriquez they needed to figure a way to get him out of Cali and back to Bogota without any corruption. The only way to do that was to plan everything in secret. 

You had been assigned to work with Javier upon his return to Columbia as his assistant. Everyone had warned you before he got there about Agent Pena, saying he was an asshole, womanizer, and should have gone to jail for his involvement with Los Pepes. But, you tried to go into it with an open mind. 

When you first introduced yourself the only thing that stuck out to you was how exhausted he looked and not just physically. His eyes held a weariness that couldn’t fade from only a good night's rest. He was reluctant at first to accept any help whether it be in the form of a cup of coffee, an ashtray, or a file he had left on your desk the night before. 

But you never gave up, always thinking one step ahead of him. You handed him a file before he even asked for it, you brought him lunch before he starved to death in his office, and you always knew when he was low on cigarettes because a new pack would appear on his desk. He tried to tell you he was quitting but you both knew that was bull shit. 

When Feistl and Van Ness made their connection to ‘Natalia’ the informant inside the Cali cartel things began to move quickly. It became apparent that they needed to work under the radar on this one. They needed to find somewhere they could meet but would also be discreet and before Javier could even asked you offered your apartment as ground zero for taking down Gilberto Rodriquez. The small government provided apartment wasn’t meant to hold more than maybe two people but over the past few nights it held at least ten at all times. Not only the Colonel, and Trujillo but Pena, the DEA guys, and several loyal members of Search Bloc. 

At this point you're sure your neighbors believe you’ve become a prostitute from the revolving door of men who come through your door during the night. Especially Senora Rivera who yesterday morning gave you a rosary before telling you she is praying that you don’t get any diseases from the men you keep company. What a charming neighbor she is. You're tempted to bake her some chocolate chip cookies and ask a few Search Bloc guys to deliver them but you know that will only make it worse. 

Javi is going over the plan for the twelfth time that night and you're in the kitchen making another pot of coffee. You yawn silently to yourself before pouring the steaming magic into the cups and putting them on the tray to bring them to the men in the living room. They nod there thanks and you return the gesture taking the remaining two cups over to the window and tapping lightly. On the fire escape are two armed Search Bloc members keeping their eyes open onto the street below. They take the cups gratefully before thanking you. 

“Estrella, can you come over here?” Javier calls you. 

You turn raising one eyebrow at the nickname but you don’t correct him, “Si, what’s up?” 

“I want you to sit down and listen to the plan, if there is anything you think we missed or does not add up I need you to tell me. People’s lives could be at stake if we make any mistakes.” 

Feistl sighs loudly running his hands over his face, “Pena why the hell are you going to explain this to her? She’s not going to understand any of this!” 

You have to bite your tongue before you say something you regret. Luckily the looks the other men give him are enough to shut him up. “Because idiot it’s good to get a fresh set of eyes on these things, and she can always see things before I even think them so sit down, shut up, and let her listen. I’m sorry Estrella, can you sit please?” he gestures to the seat across from him. 

You sit down and nod your head. Javier proceeds to go through the entire plan again. Describing the whole thing from beginning to end, it was truly brilliant to use a poultry truck to transport Rodriquez to the airport, no one would be looking for a poultry truck….Except for any of the crooked Cali cops that see him being arrested. 

You interrupt Javier, “What about two trucks?” 

“What do you mean Estrella?” 

You try to prevent the blush that is slowly creeping up your neck from the new nickname, “I mean using the poultry truck is brilliant but why not have two trucks a decoy to mislead them. Someone else can drive the other truck and lead the cops on a wild goose chase while the truck containing Rodriquez goes to the airport.” 

The Colonel grabs a new cigarette before lighting it, “that's’ damn genius, they will see the truck when we arrest Gilberto but they won’t know there are two. We get them to follow the wrong truck and we are in the clear,” he smiles at you, the first smile you had seen on his face. 

Javier is just about beaming at you from across the table and you listen for several more hours as they rework the plan to include your idea. When they finish each man feels like the best plan has been laid forward and they break up the group to go home. Tomorrow would be a big day for them all and they would need to be on the road to Cali by ten AM if they wanted their plan to work. 

You walk everyone to the door, and as they leave one by one they thank you for the use of your apartment until they are all gone except for Javier and Fiestl. “Hey boss, are you leaving soon? I want to have a private talk with our hostess,” Fiestl asks gesturing with his thumb toward you.  

You frantically shake your head no begging Javier not to leave you alone with the DEA agent, “Actually I have some more things to finalize before we leave tomorrow, just ignore me it will be like I’m not even here,” he smirks at you and you are half tempted to walk across the room and slap the smirk off his face. 

Chris turns to you, “So uhm listen, I know that this is all really scary for you, but I want to let you know that we are all going to be ok. And I was kind of wondering when we get back if you’d like to go out and get a drink?” 

You try not to let the cringe show on your face, “Oh uhm Chris, thank you but I don’t really drink and uhm…” you're trying to think of some other excuse when you lock eyes with Javier across the room. Gone is the smirk and instead you see something dark in his eyes, unwavering, and you know what to say, “I’m actually already with someone else, it’s not really a public thing but I’m really serious about him.” 

Chris’s right arm comes up to scratch the back of his head, and he lets out an awkward chuckle. “It’s ok, you don’t have to lie to me. I understand.” 

“I’m not lying. This guy he...he drives me crazy, he’s better than any drug on the market I...I’m already taken, I’m his.” You can feel the burning gaze of the man on the couch and it takes all your strength not to look at him, 

Chris lowers his head nodding before turning towards the door turning at the last moment to say, “he’s a lucky man then, goodnight,” before he leaves shutting the door behind him. 

You don’t turn away from the door scared to death of what you will see behind you. You are so focused on keeping your breathing level you don’t notice Javier has gotten up and is now behind you. You let out a small yelp when he spins you around to face him. “Did you mean it?” His voice is raspy and deep from years of smoking and his cologne is deep and strong in your lungs. 

You're worried your voice will betray you but you need to get this out, “Yes...you do drive me absolutely insane, but we both know what’s been going on here, I’m yours...I’ve always been yours,” you whisper. 

The hands on your waist slide against your lower back pulling you even closer to him. You can smell the smoke, and coffee on his breath and you try to calm down your heartbeat but it’s useless when he looks you in the eyes and says, “mine.” 

You crash together, his mouth is fused to your own and every single one of your senses is screaming Javier. His taste, his touch, his smell it’s all overwhelming and you cry out when you feel him grope your breast through your shirt. His lips move towards your neck and begin nipping as his tongue tracing along the same path to the curve of your ear, “bedroom?” The raspy question breaks you from the haze and you pull him towards the small bedroom. 

The whole way your lips never break from his skin even though you both aren’t the most graceful and when you both land in the bed with a small grunt that’s the last discomfort you felt for the night, from then on it was all pleasure. 

When the sunlight streams through the sheer curtains the next morning, illuminating the bed in the warm glow of the morning. Rough calloused fingers trace patterns over the top of your exposed back and you smile before nuzzling yourself further in the warmth of Javier’s chest. He smells like smoke, leather, and cologne; an intoxicating combination. 

“I have to leave soon,” his voice is raspy and heavy from sleep. 

“I know...but I really wish you didn’t have too,” you tell him, pulling back to look into his eyes, “but when you come back you will be the man who took down Gilberto Rodriguez.”

“This better work,” he sighs, “or else I will probably be sent back stateside, I messed up once already, they aren’t going to let me do it again.” 

“You're going to succeed! Don’t be so defeatist, your amazing at what you do your-” 

“Would you come with me?” he asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him. 

“What?” you whisper. 

He takes a few minutes to collect himself before he asks again, “if I get sent home, would you come with me back to Texas? I...I am not the same person I was when I first came here. Yes, I drink too much, I smoke too much, and I can be a real asshole but I’ve never been shy about what I want. I want you Estrella.” 

You have to remind yourself to breathe before you close your eyes letting out a small sigh, “Yes, yes I would go with you Javi. Remember what I said last night? I’m yours.” 

He pulls you back towards his chest, putting a finger underneath your chin and fusing your lips together he only pulls back once to repeat the same thing he told you the night before, “mine.” 

Day 11: Walking the dog- William Miller 

[orderoftheavengers]

Scarlet Legilimens

House: Ravenclaw

Species: Human/phoenix hybrid (formerly human)

Blood Status: Pureblood

(Pointless) Wand: Cherry, 13 inches, phoenix feather  

(Pointless) Broom: Firebolt Supreme

Patronus: Red-billed firefinch

Specialty: Legilimency, Occlumency, Flying, Dark Arts, Wandless Magic

Sorting

Wanda Maximoff is a living example of how the traits of Ravenclaw House may be applied to the most heinous villainy, and the most self-sacrificing heroism. As a villain, she is crafty and manipulative; as a hero, clever and intuitive. Her fighting style, for good or evil, is always more sneaky and innovative than “bold.” Ironically, her mind is also her weakest point as well as her strongest, as poor Wanda continuously ends up as the manipulated as often as the manipulator. A born Legilimens, her abilities, strengths and flaws are all mind related.

Note the “cleverness” and “ready mind” mentioned by the Sorting Hat needn’t always come in the form of a bookish nerd, as Luna Lovegood, Sybil Trelawney, Profeesor Quirrel and Professor Lockheart are all Ravenclaw. Wanda may not spend her free time studying or watching the Discovery Channel, but she does spend much of it experimenting with her powers, and letting her imagination loose. When faced with unbearable loss, she wasn’t immediately able to face her grief head-on, like a Gryffindor; nor, as a corrupt Ministry leader lied, did she try to resurrect her lost lover; instead, she escaped into her own mind, imagining up an (almost) complete fictitious life for herself and Vision, in a matter of seconds, without even realizing she was doing it.

Wanda is capable of impressive courage, ambition and loyalty, to be sure; but all of those things have wavered, when her reality was turned upside-down. She shed years of indoctrination after reading Ultron’s mind and seeing the grim truth. (And yes, she can read a machine’s mind! That’s a Ravenclaw right there.)

Durmstrang Experiments

Wanda and her twin brother Pietro were born to wizarding parents, in the tiny European nation of Sokovia. Wanda was a born Legilimens, like Queenie Goldstein, able to peek into others’ minds without having to perform any spells. A poor family, their father made ends meet by enchanting posters and lobby cards of old Muggle sitcoms to play out entire episodes, which he then sold to Muggle-enthusiasts in the wizarding world. Their home was decimated by a spell invented by Tony Stark, who never intended for it to end up in the claws of banshee terrorists. The twins ended up in a crap Muggle orphanage, which only intensified their prejudices. By the time they entered Durmstrang, a school infamous for professors that supported Dark Magic and even Voldemort, they were ripe for indoctrination and radicalization.

Due to Wanda’s being a Legilimens, the twins were selected for a dangerous experiment by their headmaster Professor Beowulf Von Stucker. Using the Mind Stone, the twins were to be fused with their wands. Wanda’s first name suddenly became very appropriate, a la Remus Lupin. Wanda merged with her phoenix-feathered wand, transforming the born Legilimens into a powerful human/phoenix hybrid. Her telepathic powers were enhanced, and she gained many powers of a phoenix, including flight, inhuman strength for her levitation spells, and being nearly indestructible. Being part wand also made her able to do wandless magic with no effort. Pietro, meanwhile, was merged with his Veela-hair wand, making him a human/Veela hybrid, and gifting him with a Veela’s dancing speed and silvery hair.

(A very special thanks to AlasterBoneman for the idea about Wanda's wand being integrated into her body.) Order of the Avengers Wanda and Pietro are finishing up their first year when they cross paths with the Order of the Avengers, and they don't exactly make a good first impression. Their vitriol against the Avengers and Tony Stark makes very little sense, especially given that Wanda is a telepath, and should easily see they aren't the villains (not to mention how much she has in common with Natasha, whose life story Wanda personally digs up). But, the twins are still only about eleven, and kids that age can be pretty stupid. The Avengers trace Loki's confiscated broom-scepter to Durmstrang, where the dark wizards from the Order of Hydra are keeping it. Wanda, having recently studied with a Boggart, uses her Legillimency to make the Avengers relive their traumas. Tony's fear shows Wanda that he clearly wants to protect the world, and yet she makes the very un-Ravenclaw decision to keep pursuing "revenge." Her plan inadvertently leads to Tony and Bruce accidentally creating a dangerous and ear-bleedingly-irritating gargoyle named Ultron, who the twins personally work with. Wanda even shocks Bruce into green-wolf form, and sends him on a rampage through one of the dormitories at Durmstrang (but it's not her or Pietro's House, so she could care less). Finally, after much too long, she puts her mental powers to some use, and reads Ultron's mind. That's when she puts two and two together. By then, Ultron has unleashed an army of Cornish Pixies to levitate Durmstrang Castle miles into the air, planning to drop it in an explosion of magic that will alert the Muggles to the existence of wizards. Huddled in a swaying castle tower, she confesses her guilt to Hufflepuff Clint Barton. Clint invites her to redeem herself by joining the Avengers. Durmstrang is saved, but sadly, Pietro takes a killing curse for Clint and another first year. wrought with grief and guilt, wanda begins her second year of schooling at Hogwarts, where--after an unusually long time on the stool--she is sorted into Ravenclaw. Her lonely mood is raised slightly when she finds the attractive new Golem, Vision, hovering to the Ravenclaw table alongside her.

The Scarlet Witch Hunt

Perhaps living on her own for a while is what finally helps Wanda regain the confidence to think for herself. When Vision suggests that they both drop out of their respective schools and just run off together, she urges him against the idea. When Vision senses a disturbance in his Mind Stone, she inspects it for him, but reports, “I just feel you.”

They are interrupted by a rude crowd of Trolls under their window, calling for Wanda’s blood. She’s fine to ignore them, but Vision—ever the logical Ravenclaw—is compelled intellectually argue with the Trolls in his lady's honor.

“Wanda is a redemption-seeking-antihero like Tony, who she has not expressed any hatred for since the Ultron fiasco—not even during the whole ‘Civil War’ calamity! In fact, of everyone on Team Cap, she was the least awful to Tony! The only verbal exchange between them during the whole drunk Quidditch match was a brief pout about being 'locked in her room,' which she had no problem with until Hawkeye came and pressured her. She was literally the only person in the Squid prison not insulting him! And just a few minutes ago, when I wanted her to run away with me, she was telling me to keep my loyalties to Stark, and when the news reported him missing she was visibly scared for him! Seriously, where are you Trolls even getting that she still hates Tony?”

One Troll with particularly long horns shouts back, “Well what about that cleavage and slutty red leather? Tony Stark was never a slu—er, wait…”

Vision is now standing in the window frame, unbuttoning his fly.

“Vision?” Wanda asks nervously. “What are you doing?”

A glittering, purple stream poursd out from her boyfriend’s “better wand,” threatening to deface the crowd below.

“Vision no!” she cries, quickly containing the violet river in an energy ball.

Steady hand…    she carefully lifts the ball of glistening liquid higher and higher into the air. …Not gonna screw this one up—

“I say Wanda, is that a giant flying donut?” Vision asks curiously.

Wanda glances up, and there is indeed a gargantuan space donut in the night sky, coming right for them. The strange sight distracts her, causing her hand to slip—just as she’s levitating Visions liquids right over said donut.

This enchanted pastry is in fact the vessel of some of Thanos’s most vicious minions. And Wanda has just drenched them in Vision’s you-know-what.

While Wanda gasps behind her hand, Vision suggests, “Let’s go for a walk.”

On their way down the quiet lamp-lit streets, they are soon stopped by a group of Thanos’s putrid goblin children, currently slightly more putrid than usual.

A blue female goblin roars, “Now you’ve really succeeded in pissing us off!”

Before she can stop herself, Wanda blurts out, “Pissed off? Smells more to me like you ‘been pissed on!”

Somewhere, a boxing bell dings, and a badass wizard’s duel begins.

Just when Wanda and Vision are cornered, a train passes by, causing all parties to freeze dramatically for no apparent reason. Wanda tries to make her body move, to take this opportunity to blast her opponents, but some force has her glued in place, as low music hisses theatrically throughout the night. The train passes, to reveal a shadowy figure, posing heroically. Instead of shooting the figure with a hex, one of the goblins simply throws a spear, which the figure catches expertly. Wanda and Vision both know that there is only one person on the planet would could make an entrance with this much ham and cheese.

Steve Rogers dramatically stepped into the light, revealing his fluffy new beard, and the duel gets a bit more epic.

Oh Snap

In the wizarding nation of Wakanda, Black Panther’s brilliant sister Shuri does her damndest to save her fellow Ravenclaw, and safely remove the Infinity Stone from Vision’s forehead. Sadly, Thanos’s forces overwhelm her, and Wanda is forced to kill her lover--the last family she has left. Many would assume only a Gryffindor would have the resolve to do this, but a Ravenclaw’s wisdom and pragmatism can go a long way.

Ever the sadist, that purple f*ck Thanos uses the Time Stone to resurrect Vision and kill him again, in front of Wanda, and even has the gault "comfort" her in a patronizing manner.

And yet, she’s not so distraught when Thanos’s Dusting curse comes for her. It could be that she’s so despaired by now that she welcomes death. Or maybe the half-phoenix simply doesn’t react to dissolving into ash the same way other beings might…

…in any case, she is resurrected over the summer by Bruce Banner. Vision, sadly, isn’t. In her grief, Wanda accidently traps herself and the entire school of Hogwarts inside the Mirror of Erised, but that's another story entirely. 

Wand, Broom and Patronus

Cherry wood is associated with some of the most powerful and lethal wands.  Phoenix feather wands are considered to have the widest range of magic, and are among the post powerful, yet also the most difficult to tame. 

The red-billed firefinch is one of the few bird species where the females sport some red coloring. These birds are tiny and quiet, but very active. They are flexible about where they live and with whom; they can mix with other bird species, and can live in the wild or captivity, provided they always have plenty of space. Their nests are different from other birds', having a dome shape and being low in bushes. Not unlike the hidden fortress Wanda creates, to hide her family. These crafty birds also build mock-nests to fool predators.  

AN: This has undergone some changes in both the story and image, since the release of "WandaVision." If anyone is for any reason attached to Wanda's old broom, the previous version is saved in my Stash. I plan to reuse that fire design somewhere else, possibly for Harry's Firebolt in my more serious Potter art.

[werezmastarbucks]

Interlude: Kai Parker falls in love

Whitmore Guy masterlist

word count: 2710

music: down by blink-182, famous last words by my chemical romance

Y/N stood her back to the car on one foot, rubbing the other against the ankle.

“What about the picture? You showed me the picture of you and Martha”.

“Spell”, he said casually. She raised her head.

“I thought you were a vampire”.

“I’m both”, Kai shrugged with pride, “they call me a heretic”.

“And the whole bleeding then… I watched you, precisely because I wasn’t sure, I was watching how quickly you’d heal after the attack on the bar…”

He nodded.

“Kai, did you turn all those people?”

Another nod.

“I had a very elaborate plan which you will have to figure out for yourself. We gotta go”.

“Why’s the rush?”

He puffed like he didn’t want to say.

“Ma-.. Kai, I can’t go away with you for good, you know that, right?”

Interesting how about five hours ago she thought the opposite.

“We’ve had this conversation before. And then you went away with me. I take over every time, don’t waste your energy, baby”.

He opened the door of the car with the motion of his hand. Y/N was used to seeing Bonnie do that, so it looked eerie. Lie, the whole three months she’s known him, were a lie. But then again… who’s gonna throw a stone at him?

“Why did they decide to get rid of you?”

He was getting annoyed again. This guy had a very short fuse. True, he was much nicer when his mouth was glued to hers. Y/N moved her shoulder uncomfortably.

“Do you want my jacket?”

“What happens to my friends now?”

“Oh god, the interrogation again”, he moaned.

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, a long kiss, passionate sex, us running into the raspberry sunrise, the town burning, something like that”, he crowed.

“I don’t know you, Kai, and they’re my…”

Not to blow up, he took a deep breath of night air. The night air is sweet and nice, not quite like lemonade, but still. He tuned out for a second, only catching the ‘I don’t know you’ part.

“I can fix that”, he said, putting the hand on her neck. His palm was warm against her skin covered in goose bumps. August was wearing out slowly, and, though it’s generally mild in the south, occasionally cold nights happened.

She fell down into the car and onto the seat as if something pulled her. Kai lifted her feet and tucked her in carefully, and closed the door. Y/N was asleep, drowning into the vivid vision he cherished, perhaps his favorite memory of her.

 They drove in the car. She sat at the wheel but she had no idea where she’s going. Oh, wait, it’s the Whitmore again! What the hell? But it’s daytime. Y/N looked down on her hands holding the wheel and it didn’t really feel like a dream; it was something in between sleep and reality. She just drove, realizing slowly that there was somebody next to her, talking. She turned her head and saw Kai. As soon as he came into her vision field, she heard his voice.

“…you know? And turned out, it was so easy. You literally go online, click this one thing, and you’ve got an acc. Wow. And then followers just…” he made a funny face, “swarmed me. You should follow me, too. They find me hilarious, and when I post selfies, girls, they start messaging me!”

“I’m not on twitter”, she said, or rather, the meat suit she was stuck in, said for her. She felt her lips move and heard her own voice. But the sentence wasn’t formed in her head. She was a mere, silent, helpless spectator. She looked at herself into the rearview mirror. And saw her own eyes, completely calm, joyful, even. She realized she was in a good mood. The car was happily speeding down the road, past the college. Kai (this name was still new) was wearing a childish blue and white tee which made him look years younger.

It was past. It wasn’t a dream. Kai must have inserted one of his memories in her when he touched her.

“You are, now”, he shook his head and waved her phone in his hand, “I just created you an account”.

“Kai, leave my phone alone”.

She stopped the car at the brink of the forest where she’s been thousands of times. She left the car, and suddenly, she said,

“Great idea, by the way, with the blue and white shirt”.

Kai widened his eyes, not understanding.

“What do you mean?”

“What if something goes wrong, and you will be all covered in blood”.

Just as she said it, she felt a sting on her right forearm. She looked down and saw a fresh cut, the type they usually made for a location spell.

Her feet carried her into the forest. Kai was walking behind her with a coil of rope over his shoulder, and he looked very energetic. The way even Mal never looked. He was pretty, lively. He smiled, looking around, he had that kind of a happy smile that a kid has when it knows that they’re going somewhere exciting.

The old her also noticed it.

“What are you so happy about?”

He shrugged, stepping over a knot of green moss,

“I love me some outdoor activities, if you know what I mean”.

“I really don’t”.

Her foot got caught in a root, she grabbed on a thistle and cursed. Kai hummed. They walked on, and then she stopped abruptly, again, to her own surprise.

“You have no idea where to go, do you?”

Kai leveled with her and made a thinking face. He seemed so nonchalant, and she felt the same. She knew this version of her was way more careless. He took her hand and suddenly there was a zip she already knew too well. This time she felt it very clearly: something weird was happening. It felt like energy was streaming right from her body, and into his, like he was sucking the life force out of her. Only, it didn’t feel painful, and it wasn’t wrong. More like, she was feeding him.

A vision inside a vision: she saw through somebody else’s eyes. A cliff, falling down in a sharp turn, the waterfall and the forest below; it was the Nine Brothers’ Waterfall not far away from where they stood.

Kai pushed her away quite rudely.

“Don’t ever do that again!”

In a second his face changed. She looked at him, a capricious boy, and felt the familiar (for the old her) irritation fill her.

“Do what?” she snarled.

“Sneak on me!”

“You’re the one who grabbed me! You know I can’t control it, prick!”

Kai looked her up and down and closed his mouth. He was genuinely worried about her reading his mind. The witch was super concerned about the safety of his pot. There must be some awful things residing there. Finally, apparently after some inner monologue, he let go of it.

“He’s at the waterfall”.

“Yeah”, Y/N snapped, “I know”.

Kai didn’t know how to hold a grudge – now she, the new variant, could throw her fists up victoriously, because she knew something the old her didn’t: Kai is very good at holding grudges. Anyway, he started chatting in five minutes again. He was talking about what he dreamt about last night, and the plants he saw as he went, and how back in Portland he tried to take care of their garden, but they kept interrupting him and soon wouldn’t let him out of the house – and it’s so hard to do gardening when you’re inside! LOL. He talked and talked, until they came out into the clearing they’d seen previously – and she finally remembered the day.

It was the day Shane Atticus died. She remembered vaguely this place in the forest. She even knew where the Waterfall was because she’s been there that day. But she had no other recollection of what’s happened.

She turned to look at Kai. He was the reason she hadn’t. They took it all away. The sound of the water, and the smells of the forest, the prick of thistle, and the cut on her arm.

Atticus was walking around in the clearing, and then he bowed to a big sports bag, taking out a huge ass hunting knife.

They produced sounds simultaneously: Kai gasped, impressed, clearly instantly desiring the knife for himself.

She hummed, annoyed. She hadn’t seen a single Predator running around.

“What’s he doing?” she asked.

“Looks like he’s about to sacrifice…”

At that moment she heard a loud scream. It was animal: Atticus lifted a cat, tied like it was a freaking sausage, yelling for its life, slapping its loose tail on his hands. She saw red. Even though Kai tried to stop her, and even grabbed her by the hem of her jacket, she ran out, yelling,

“LEAVE IT ALONE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Funny thing happened. She ran out, but then again, she stayed where Kai was. Because it was his memory. It was like she floated around next to him, but not inside his body. She could see her own back, and how she hopped as she ran. Jesus, is that how I look when I attack somebody? Like a mantis! she thought, cringing.

“That was about the time I fell in love with you”, Kai said, to nobody. She saw everything without turning her head; she didn’t have any. She wanted to ask him to put her back into her body, but she had no mouth, either. She could only observe, locked away, spread everywhere, until the vision was over.

They charged at Atticus (Parker had no other choice than to follow her), and tied him to a tree. Kai knocked him out with a powerful throw and knocked him out. As she was untying the cat, crying with fear and pain, it bit her right hand through. That fucking scar! She was looking at it, from time to time, and had no idea where it came from! It was the cat in the forest!

She saw herself cradle her bitten hand, pale with pain, trying to keep it cool in front of Kai. And him, his eyes, crawling slowly over her, as he expected her to cry out, too. He was like a slow insect, when he was like this, almost inhuman in his delusional obsession with pain. He wanted to see every second of her agony and not miss anything. He almost forgot about Shane.

“Get the water”, she hissed, wincing with pain, and finally, Kai walked over to the bag and pulled a bottle out.

He poured some over the bright red bite, and she moaned quietly.

“You do something good and that’s what you get”, he muttered musingly. “That’s why I never do good anymore”.

She found it in her to snicker.

“You’re doing something good right now”.

Kai’s face lit up with amusement.

“You call this good?”

“You’re helping me, and I’m a good person. Sorry to bust your super villain party”.

He smirked, charmingly, the corner of his mouth went up. He looked so nice.

Then they tried to make Atticus talk. She had no idea what they wanted. She remembered, about five or six years ago, when her dad died (was killed), she was in a car accident. Maybe it was about that. When you think about it, the whole summer of that year was extremely blurry, she just didn’t think that far back. It was horrifying. It meant Kai was there all the time. Her memory of that year was all but a big gaping hole.

Shane rolled his eyes out and cursed at Parker.

“You’re the boy with no powers”, he smiled with his bloody mouth. Kai tilted his head,

“Do I look like I don’t have powers?”

He made Atticus yell out in pain.

She didn’t know why she stood there and just watched them. Pressing her hand into her stomach, she approached them.

“Just get inside and look. We don’t have that much time, Kai”.

Shane was wailing.

Kai clicked his tongue.

“I don’t have enough magic”, he admitted, and looked up at her. She sniffed impatiently.

She put her hand on his shoulder and nodded. This time she couldn’t feel anything, floating around. She could as well be a leaf slowly falling down from a tree. But she saw them two together, crouching next to Atticus, like two weasels. Shane quietened down as Kai penetrated his mind, accelerated by the force her touch brought to him. His shoulders shook a little as he chanted under his breath. It was effortless, she didn’t seem bothered in any bit. The only thing that unnerved her was her own hand.

Shane opened his eyes and moaned,

“Taurus!”

“No way”, Kai jeered. “No! Fuck you!”

“They will come for you, they mustn’t know she left the town if you want to keep her alive…”

Then something happened to him, and his head snapped on his shoulder.

There was a moment of silence, and she removed her hand from Kai. The boy turned to her very slowly, his face full of unreadable expression.

“Oh. You killed him”.

“I killed him?” she yelped. “What… how?”

“I think you shot too much magic through me, and his heart stopped”.

He was sitting, one knee to the ground. She stood up, like she wanted to jump away. Her bitten hand was shaking violently with pain, but the rest of her seemingly went numb. The second Y/N was waiting, watching them both. The noise of the waterfall filled everything.

“Cut off his head”, she said finally.

Kai’s eyebrows went up.

“You want me… you wanna… cut his head off?”

“Yes, make it look like it was a ripper. Whoever they are, they can’t know we’ve been here. And if Damon learns I was here, he’s going to kill me”.

Kai looked at her for a second more, and then turned and gazed straight at her, again. Like he could see her in the air. Like he knew exactly where she was.

“Yeah, I definitely fell in love with you then”.

She blinked with the eyelids she didn’t have.

They were sitting in the car again, and she drove with one hand.

“Remind me again”, she panted, “why the hell I am driving?”

She looked at Kai, and if she could, she’d scream. He was covered in blood from the top of his head to his ass. All his blue and white shirt was soaked in it, like he was running under the rich splatters of it. Her mind wondered, but her old self just winced.

“Because I don’t drive, I told you”, he moaned.

“Jesus, Kai, stop touching everything! Put the phone back!”

“I want to change the song! This one is good”.

The drops of rain they fall all over This awkward silence makes me crazy The glow inside burns light upon her I'll try to kiss you if you let me

“Aren’t you too old for blink?” she asked.

Kai shrugged and rubbed his cheek.

“I knew Mark by the way. Yeah, when I was studying in Cali”.

“You liar!”

“Pfft. I don’t lie to you, you know that”.

“No way you knew Mark fucking Hoppus when you were studying in Cali!”

“Yeah, he had green hair back then, I remember telling him he has to ditch that drummer if they wanna be famous one day”.

Kai motioned towards one of the speakers as if saying, and there we are.

“This is…”

“Yes, I am very cool, I know. You’re welcome”.

It was the first time he didn’t feel like he was showing off, strangely. He sounded pretty sincere. Because he was all covered in Shane’s blood, it was hard to concentrate.

“How did you even get so dirty while cutting off a head?”

“Have you ever cut off someone’s head?”

“Nope, I usually have people do it for me”, she smirked.

You’re already into him, she thought. Kai smiled back.

“No further questions. I must say, it was pretty hot. How you were like, cut it off. I even got a little bit of a…”

“I know Kai, I was there”, Y/N interrupted.

I was there

I was there

I was there…

[chaoticevilbean]

Lord of the Rings Rewrite

Based off the movies, extended edition, and Pippin has magic

Merry hits me through the tent, and I quickly duck under the material.

"Quickly!" Merry boosts me into the cart and I quickly sort through the fireworks. I hold up a medium green rocket, but Merry quickly shuts the idea down.

"No, no! The big one, big one!" he exclaims, looking this way, and that so we won't get caught. My head aches slightly as I hold up a big red rocket, shaped like a dragon's head. I'm about to put it down, when I see Merry's face. He wants this one, so I push aside the ache and jump out of the cart and into the tent. Merry and I set the rocket up, but I'm distracted as my ache returns at double the pain. I try to ignore it and light the fuse.

"Done," I say, pushing the rocket up. It falls onto Merry's chest.

"You're supposed to stick it in the ground!" Merry tells me, panicking as he pushes it back towards me.

"It is in the ground!" I respond, his panic infecting me. My head hurts worse, and I try to figure out the problem. I push it back.

"Outside!" Merry practically yells, pushing it back once again. The pain dulls. Oh. That was the problem. This is bad.

"It was your idea," I remind him. He does all the thinking for me.

Suddenly the firework goes off, pushing us away and blackening our faces. It takes some of the tent with it as it flies high above the party, forming a great big dragon of sparks. Everyone looks on in awe, but my head is telling me there's something wrong. I understand as the dragon turns back towards everyone, flies low to the ground and almost hits everyone before flying off once again and bursting into beautiful fireworks.

"That was good," Merry tells me. I agree, but I wanna say that we should leave now.

"Let's get another one," my voice says without my consent. I internally groan at my automatic idiocracy. I turn to run off, knowing that Merry will listen to my stupidity, when someone grabs my ear. I hear Merry exclaim as well, so at least we were both caught.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck," a familiar voice says, "and Peregrin Took. I might have known." Me and Merry look to see Gandalf. Fear threatens to choke me, but I try to hide it. Hopefully they'll pass it off for the punishment that's sure to come.

The punishment does come, in the form of washing all the dishes from the party. Which, considering the entire Shire came, is a lot of plates and silverware and cups and bowls.

Late into the night, the crowd begins to call out for Bilbo to give a speech. He complies, standing on a barrel to be seen by all.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins," the mentioned cheer loudly, "Tooks and Brandybucks," Merry and I join in with our families, "Grubbs, Tubbs, Hornblowers," cheers from each as they're mentioned, "Bulgers, Bracegirdles, and Proudfoots." I hear someone call out "PROUDFEET!" followed by laughing from those around him.

"Today is my One Hundred and Eleventh birthday!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" choruses the crowd. Bilbo continues.

"Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. (cheers?) I don't know half of you half as well as I should like and I like less than half of you, half as well as you deserve." I think about this. So he doesn't know half of us as much as he'd like, and he likes less than half of us, and only half as much as we deserve. I see Gandalf smirk, and find a small mimicry move its way up my face. But I stop when I realize that no other Hobbits besides me understood. I'm supposed to be an idiot, so I adopt the same confused look as Merry.

"I, er, I have things to do." As the old Hobbit speaks, he reaches into one of his pockets. I notice a faint feeling of darkness as he takes something out of his pocket and holds it behind his back. The object glints the moment before it's hidden. "I've put this off for far too long. I regret to announce this is the End. I'm going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Goodbye." Bilbo smiles fondly at Frodo, while everyone looks curiously on. Then, quite suddenly, every Hobbit gasps. Every Hobbit but me. Bilbo seems awfully pleased with something he did and hops off the barrel and heads past everything towards his house. I see Gandalf take his pipe out of his mouth and scowl. I look at Merry, but he's just as stunned as all the others.

"What happened, Merry?" I ask. My friend looks at me, eyes wide.

"I don't know, Pippin. I don't know," he mutters. I furrow my brow as I try to think of what happened. Obviously, I was the only one not affected, and judging by what was going on, no one saw Bilbo head home. I watch the chaos and notice Gandalf heading after Bilbo, walking briskly, but somehow as unnoticed as the Hobbit himself.

"Come on!" Merry calls, and I turn to find him running off.

"Wait up," I call back, rushing after my friend.

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

We found ourselves in the Green Dragon not that many days after Bilbo left. Apparently, he headed to live with the Elves. After many mugs of ale, Merry and I found ourselves on a table, singing and dancing away.

"Hey ho, to the bottle I go!

To heal my heart and drown my woe.

Rain may fall and wind may blow,

But there still be

many miles to go!

Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,

and the stream that falls from hill to plain.

Better than rain or rippling brook-"

"Is a mug of beer inside this Took!"

I take over on the last line of the song, raising my half-pint in salute before taking a drink. Everyone around me cheers. It feels good to know that people think I'm good at something, even if it's not that great of a talent.

We walk out later that night, saying goodbye to Rosie on the way. We chuckle at the thought of what Sam would look like if he saw that. She's no more than a friend to us, but Sam's got the biggest fancy for her than anyone else I've seen.

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

I can hear singing, like something from another world. I turn and see wood elves passing by. Some are riding on the finest steeds I've ever seen, while most walk, carrying lanterns and wearing pure, glowing robes. I hear talking amidst the singing, and look in the direction it comes from. Just as I see two small forms gazing at the procession, I fall into darkness.

"Smoke rises from the Mountain of Doom. The hour grows late and Gandalf the Grey rides to Isengard seeking my Council. For that is why you have come, is it not? My old friend." A wizard with long grey-white hair and beard and an all-white robe walks down the steps of a huge black tower. Gandalf walks over as he speaks and bows.

"Saruman," Gandalf says. So that is the wizard's name, though what a name it is. I feel the fear within me tremble. Unlike with Gandalf, this fear is real, instinctual, not from years of experience but from something primal, something dark.

I feel a shift, and then Saruman and Gandalf are walking near the tower.

"So the Ring of Power has been found," Saruman states. I shiver at the feeling that comes when he says this. But then I think. Ring of Power? I've heard stories, but nothing concrete.

"All these long years it was in The Shire under my very nose," Gandalf tells his fellow. I want to scream at Gandalf to not tell him, that this wizard is nothing good, but I know that it will be no use.

"And yet you did not have the wits to see it. Your love of the Halflings leaf has clearly slowed your mind." I frown. Many of my best ideas come from Old Toby.

"But we still have time. Time enough to counter Sauron if we act quickly," Gandalf hurriedly says. Sauron. The name sends more shivers down my spine.

"Time! What time do you think we have?" Saruman exclaims, a hint of anger in his voice. Another shift comes, and suddenly I'm inside the tower. I can feel the evil in it, thrumming, but not like the feeling in your chest when you hum. The sound of a war drum, or the noise right before some big monster roars and devours you whole.

"Sauron has regained much of his former strength." I turn and see Saruman and Gandalf still speaking.

"He cannot yet take physical form but his spirit has lost none of its potency. Concealed within his fortress, the Lord of Mordor sees all. His gaze pierces cloud, shadow, earth and flesh. You know of what I speak Gandalf. A great eye, lidless, wreathed in flame." My head begins to ache. The evil in here is so powerful, and the words, and Saruman, and the very tower echo with darkness.

"The Eye of Sauron." Gandalf seems to not feel the darkness surrounding him. Could he be a part of it? NO! I can feel his energy, bright and filled with goodness. I move closer until I'm standing right beside him, using his light as an anchor in this pitch black place. My fear becomes my safety.

"He is gathering all evil to him. Very soon he will have summoned an army great enough to launch an assault upon Middle Earth," Saruman continues, not sounding concerned about the Dark Lord of Mordor trying to kill everything in Middle Earth.

"You know this? How?" Gandalf questions.

"I have seen it," the dark wizard dressed in white answers. The two walk into a different room and I follow. A pedestal stands in the middle of the room, a black cloth covering what sits upon it. I feel pulled towards it, but my will to stay near Gandalf is greater.

"A palantir is a dangerous tool, Saruman."

"Why? Why should we fear to use it?" Saruman pulls the cloth off, revealing a globe, a sphere of black, cloudy glass.

"They are not all accounted for. The lost seeing stones. We do not know who else may be watching." Gandalf moves forward, covering the palantir back up. As he does, I sense a darkness flash through the stone. He must feel it as well, for the Grey Wizard pauses, his face one of realization.

"The hour is later than you think. Sauron's forces are already moving. The Nine have left Minas Morgul." Saruman sits back on his throne.

"The Nine!"

"They crossed the River Isen on Midsummer's Eve disguised as riders in black."

"They've reached The Shire?" The Shire? My head pounds now. I know, I know! That's home! That's where Merry, and Frodo, and Rosie, and Sam, and Mother and Father, and my sisters, and everyone!

"They will find the Ring and kill the one who carries it."

"Frodo." FRODO‽ SERIOUSLY, GANDALF‽ Of all the Hobbits in Hobbiton, it had to be one of my best friends! And then Gandalf the... the Fool goes and says his name! Every thought rushes in one way and out another as I stare between Gandalf and his traitorous kin.

"You did not seriously think that a hobbit could contend with the will of Sauron? There are none who can. Against the power of Mordor there can be no victory. We must join with him Gandalf. We must join with Sauron. It would be wise my friend." I make a slight grunt at the friend part. You'd have to be a fool or evil to be friends with someone this dark. And Gandalf isn't evil.

"Tell me. Friend... When did Saruman the Wise abandon reason for madness?" I internally cheer at the insult, but all possible celebration is wiped from me as Saruman throws the firework-making wizard across the room. As the two begin to fight, throwing each other everywhere, my vision fades.

"GANDALF!" I shout as it all goes black.

[bonesthebeloved]

You did to me what tsunamis do to homes- Sanders Sides

@lance-alt

Summary: Patton and Remus fuse for an experiment. Then they fuse again. Then they stay fused because Patton wants too. When the others finally find out how bad it is hurting Remus, the damage is already done and they have to deal with the aftermath. Wordcount: 3849 words Relationships: Platonic creativitwins, Romantic Intruloceit. TRIGGER/ SQUICK WARNING: !UNSYMPATHETIC PATTON!, mental abuse, neglection, manipulation, dismissal, swearing, disassociation, shouting, panic attack mention (brief), some plushy and clothes get ripped apart I guess, vomiting, (idk how to tag this but Patton flirts with Roman while he and Remus are fused so that), Crying, food mention. (If I forgot anything please let me know. this is a heavy one and I don’t wanna accidentally hurt people with it.)

Patton being unsympathetic/ abusive isn’t really explained but I don’t have the brain cells for that atm so let’s just say he thinks he can protect Thomas this way and is willing to do anything to ‘keep him safe’ however incorrect he may be.

After this post by @lance-alt (Hope you like it bud.)

They had found out that they could fuse because of creativity. Remus and Roman had finally reconnected enough for them to be friendly with each other again. Baking and making a mess of the kitchen while loudly singing Disney songs at 10 am, sitting on the couch together to watch crappy horror movies and laughing at how terrible the special effects were. Dancing in the living room to Panic! at the disco, with energy so high it could match Patton’s when he had too much sugar.

When Remus had grabbed his brother to spin in circles, the soul reason just being him simply wanting to do so now that he could, when something had happened.

Bright light and they both weren’t quite themselves anymore.

A stumble as they looked down. The floor much further away and their body not quite theirs.

It had been exciting, to be the King again. Remus had made them hug themselves and Roman had spun them around before both of them made them run towards Patton’s room.

When they unfused again there had been confusion.  When they fused again Logan had conducted an experiment.

And now Remus was in the logical traits room. Fidgeting his thumbs while Patton picked some music. It wasn’t the duke’s preference. He liked something more upbeat. Something edgier. But Patton had picked the music and this was only for an experiment so he didn’t argue.

Besides. He did not want to get on Patton’s bad side.

The dancing was awkward and so was the fusion. It didn’t feel quite right. Unlike being Romulus where he and his brother just shared the mind and looked through the same eyes, they were in a room. Two chairs in front of a big screen and a control panel. It had been a little odd. But not bad perse so he’d let it slide. Maybe Patton just liked it like this. He didn’t mind. Simply wasn’t used to it yet.

Not that he had to get used to it. This was a one-time thing after all.

When they unfused Logan had been ecstatic. Already asking Patton so many questions about how it had felt and set up a meeting for them to fuse as well so he could witness it first hand.

Remus was dismissed with the wave of a hand. Leaving the room confused and not feeling quite right.

- 

They had fused again after a few days. Patton coming to him with a smile and an offer to try it again because ‘it felt so funny! didn’t it? I think you’re my favourite person to fuse with Remus!’

And Remus couldn’t have known that Patton had only tried it with Logan. Remus couldn’t have known what ‘letting Patton steer the ship’ for a while could have let too.

They were fused the whole day. And inside the room, Remus had sat back. Patton needed time to learn how to properly control their body. And, as he already had experience with fusing with Roman, he let him figure it out, repressing the odd feeling that came with not being himself.

And when they unfused in the evening, Remus too tired to do anything else than simply plop on his bed and fall asleep, Patton said goodbye and that they should do that again sometimes.

A few weeks later and they were barely unfused. 

They only separated when it was time to go to bed. Too tired to do anything else and slowly forgetting how to do anything else but sleep and wake up to Patton knocking at his door.

One of the two chairs in the room had disappeared. Remus never sitting on it.

Instead, he said in the corner of the room, trying to ignore the feeling of his limbs moving and touching things even if he sat still himself. Trying to ignore the feeling of their body eating and talking and communicating while he was silent.

 At first, he had been trying to pitch into their decisions. But after Patton had made them rip apart the octopus plushy that Roman had gifted his brother on their birthday, threatening to destroy more of his precious belongings if he didn’t work with him, he had settled down.

Remus now barely moved when they were fused. Arms wrapped around his legs, staring blankly at the opposite wall, trying to tune out the sensations and sounds. Trying to not look at himself being so…not himself.

A few months had passed and Patton made their body lay down onto Remus’ bed every time they unfused because Remus couldn’t remember how to move his limbs without somebody else doing it for him

-

When Logan walked up to them after three months of nonstop fusion, Remus had lifted his head to look up at the screen for the first time in weeks.

“Hey, Pathos.” He disliked that name. But Patton had picked it for them and arguing had only led to Virgil’s old jacket, which he had used as a comforter for when everything got too much, being burned right in front of their eyes. Remus not even having a chair or the power to do anything but watch, tears streaming down his cheeks. Mouth sealed shut because he wasn’t the one that did the talking.

“I know it’s none of my business but I can’t help but ask, don’t you think it might be unhealthy to stay fused all the time? I know you’ve told me that you get things done easier like this, yin and yang and so on. But I also know that it is easy to lose your sense of self in things like this.”

“Oh Logan, thank you so much for worrying about us,” Patton spoke. Remus had lost the ability to flinch at that point. Simply keeping his head low, his body stiff, staring at the wall opposite of him. It had begun to change colour in the last few days.

“And it hasn’t been easy. Believe me, it hasn’t been. Remus and Patton are very different people after all.”  Remus’ only response was the twitching of his pinky. On the inside, he was screaming, yelling, hoping that Patton had finally seen the error in his ways. 

“Remus really wears on Patton sometimes. With all of his crazy ideas and violent tendencies.” Oh.

“But They’ve found their peace like this. Like me! I think they’re better off like this. And isn’t everything more peaceful now that Remus is under control? Don’t you think it’s better this way?”

Logan looked taken aback by the negative talk towards one of the components of the fusion. Though he didn’t comment on it. Simply nodding, shrugging it off and going about his day while Remus was left in the room with Patton. Trying not to listen to the moral sides thoughts in his head. Trying to get them away from his own. Trying to not think.

Patton just walked them to a mirror. Staring right at it before he spoke.

“You really thought he was going to help you? They know you’re wrong Remus. And if this is the only way for me to keep you away from them then I will carry that burden with pride.”

No. He hadn’t wanted to be free. He hadn’t. Because that would be bad and he wasn’t bad. He wasn’t- “You can’t lie to me, Remus. Or did you forget that I can hear your thoughts as well?”

Remus turned his head again. Retaking his staring contest with the wall opposite of him.

The wall was getting patchy. spots of green and blue interrupting the evenly coloured cyan wall like the wallpaper was coming off.

-

The fusion got more unstable. With Roman coming up to them to confess that he missed his brother and Virgil crying during a panic attack because he wanted Patton to comfort him but the idea of Remus being there too made his skin crawl.

Logan had begun to figure out what he thought was going on. Pathos seemed too put together. Too nice and cheerful and pg to have them both equal parts controlling him. He didn’t swear. Didn’t make a mess, didn’t do anything like Remus but rather was just a slightly more excentric and charismatic version of Patton.

And that night Remus hung above the toilet. Retching as wave after wave of sick clattered into the toilet bowl. The memory of Patton controlling their body to flirt with his brother making him physically ill. A new wave of bile rising up at the memory of how he had them smile of the thought of Pathos with his brother. Of how Patton’s thoughts about his brother had mixed with his own. Of how uncomfortable Roman had looked until nothing but stomach acid was left and his throat stung and the taste of sick had to be washed away with mouthwash.

The wallpaper was peeling more each day. The corner opposite him now almost fully green and blue. 

Virgil had avoided touching them. Stopping his hushed conversations with Logan each time Pathos walked into the room. Eyeing them with suspicious than slowly grew into anger. And Remus felt one of the last strings that attached him to the others snap when they cut up his usual outfit that night. Patton’s anger and sadness at making his best friend this upset coursing through him. Feeling the self hate and hate for him rip at his chest as the sash was cut to pieces. The eye attached to the outfit ripped off and stomped on.

He wasn’t sure which were his own feelings anymore.

The wallpaper was halfway off now. Green and blue replacing Cyan walls. Remus focused on the green parts and silently wished for freedom. When Patton threatened to drown his pet rat he numbed the thoughts until only Patton’s own remained.

Deceit hadn’t spoken to them for an entire month. Though he and Logan were together a lot. Always talking or holding up papers. Always quieting down when they entered the room.  When Pathos had confronted Deceit and had wanted to judge him for not communicating with them and say that he could at least be civil, Deceit had actually hissed at them.

“I’m not speaking to you until you give me my friend back Patton.” 

Remus had cried that night. Patton having left him on the bed as always. Unmoving. Unresponsive to the almost freezing temperature in his room and the fact that he couldn’t use his blanket to get warm because it had been ripped to pieces.  He laid there the entire night. Tears simply streaming down his face as he stared at the wall he was facing. The grey colour of it a nice change to the usual green and blue that had completely taken over the room.

Unmoving when Patton broke his mirror the next morning when they fused again and he had felt tired and cold.

Roman had begun to look at them strangely. His expression was so sad that Remus could feel the hurt from where he was sitting. His brother had stopped talking to them all together after the conversation they’d had. Remus had gotten enough of his willpower back from hearing his brother begging them to un-fuse, to please have his brother back, to finally take action.

They were having dinner when it happened.

Pathos had called all the sides to the dinner table. Wanting to spend some time with all of them because ‘we never talk any more kiddos!’

They were holding the pot of spaghetti, about to put it on the table when they froze.

Virgil cursed loudly when the hot spaghetti dropped onto his lap and arms. Though cursed even louder when he looked to the side and saw the pot lying on the ground and next to it, gripping their head and slowly being consumed by light, was Pathos.

“Stay together! I’m not letting you leave!” A voice, sounding more like Patton’s then the one they had gotten used to coming from the ball of light. All of the sides having jumped up, Logan and Deceit ushering the other two back. Holding their arms out protectively.

“It’s better like this! We’re better like th-” “No!”

And with Remus’ voice, hoarse and terrified sounding, echoing through the room, one silhouette split into two.

And there were Patton and Remus. Patton quickly jumping up from his place on the ground and staring down at Remus with fury in his eyes. His usual outfit on like always. Fists bawled, teeth gritted. Furious.

Patton was about to open his mouth to say something to Remus when he was stopped by a hand gripping his arm. He whipped around to see Logan shake his head. Holding back Deceit, Virgil and Roman with his other arm. The three of them looked ready to kill.

“Go,” Logan said simply. It wasn’t comforting. Wasn’t even a warning. No, with the cold tone and cold eyes and arm holding back the other three it sounded more like a threat than anything else.

Because Remus didn’t look well.

Remus lay curled up on the ground. Not having moved a muscle since they un-fused. Arms around his legs and head bowed down slightly. Eyes staring at something they couldn’t see. Wearing an old t-shirt and joggers instead of his usual outfit. Muscle mass almost completely was gone.

Roman’s vision what white with anger, breath uneven and harsh as he tried to calm himself. Deceit was visibly shaking and Virgil had run out of the room as soon as they knew for sure that Patton had locked himself in his own one. Logan was frozen in place for a good few seconds, snapping out of it as soon as Roman rushed passed him, dropping down to his knees next to his brother.

“Remus? Remus, it’s me! Can you hear me?”

The only response he got was a tear slipping from his brother’s eye. No movement. Rising and falling of his chest the only thing moving his body.

“What the fuck did he do to you…?” Came Deceit’s whisper, coming to sit next to Roman on the floor and lifting Remus’ head up slightly to lay it on his lap.

When Deceit began to carefully card his fingers through grimy hair Remus’ pinky twitched.

“He’s getting back his responses. Keep going.” That was Logan, kneeling down at Remus’ feet and putting a hand on the side’s ankle to show that he was here.

Another twitch.

When Roman carefully wrapped his arms around his brother and leaned his head onto his arm Remus did a full-body shiver and his gaze dropped.

Remus moved his hands. And after repeating the same gestures a few times Logan realised that he was using sign language. “He’s signing your name Roman.” And Roman burst into tears.

“Yes! Yes, Remus, I’m here! We’re all here okay? Logan, Dee, all three of us are here for you okay?”

‘Deceit?’ he signed

The ghost of moralities thoughts swirled in his head. Mixed together with his own so much so that he didn’t know which were his own anymore.

A part of him said Deceit was bad. Evil, wrong, bad, snake, liar.

Another part wanted to simply be held by his long term friend and short term crush. Wanted to be comforted like he would have been had none of this happened.  Wouldn’t Deceit have seemed scared to touch him like he would break if he did something wrong.

‘Tired,’ is what he signed instead of the thousands of words he’d been wanting to say. And the three of them seemed to understand.

So Logan picked him up. And Remus tried to ignore the panic that shot through him at being touched so suddenly. Tried to ignore the feeling of wanting to be closer and of knowing that he also felt something for Logan because that would be too complicated. 

And when they entered his room he tried to ignore his twisting stomach when all three of them gasped. Deceit insisting he tells them what had happened. Why it looked so empty.

‘He made us destroy it. Had to behave.’ He signed. Happier than anything that he had taken the time to learned to sign a few years ago.

“He…what?” “What is it? What did he say?” Roman pressed Logan, the logical side carefully laying Remus down in his bed, summoning a blanket that was clearly his own and putting it over the creative trait before answering the question. Looking at Deceit and Roman, a frown carved into his face.

“He said that Patton made them destroy his belongings so he would behave.” “He WHAT?!” Deceit roared. And the lump on the bed jumped at the loud noise. 

“I’m going to tear that fucker apart!” “Deceit wait! That wouldn’t do him any good right now,” Logan tried to argue. Trying to calm down the fuming Deceit.

It seemed to help a bit. Dee sitting down on the bed next to Roman and holding his head in his hands while Logan summoned a comb and slowly began to work through the knots.

For now, they just had to make sure Remus was alright, Deceit decided. He’d get Patton back for this eventually.

 -

The aftermath of the abuse (because Logan had said, that’s the only way to describe this,) was heavy.

Remus had to learn how to move on his own again. Seemingly having completely forgotten that he had to move his own limbs after such a long time of not being in control. 

Logan had, after a long conversation with Remus where not a word was spoken, reported back to the other two to tell them that his muscle mass had declined so much because he had barely moved, if at all, in the last few months.

He had to learn how to walk again. They got him crutches once he could properly lean on his arms again and watched him hobble around the new common room.

Patton had moved his room to another part of the imagination. If he was too ashamed or too stubborn they didn’t know. They still made videos together. But Remus never showed up. Leaving Deceit to fill in his place. He and Patton were never in the same video and the conversations Patton had with the others were short and harsh. 

Virgil was indecisive. He and Remus had never gotten along. But as soon as Logan had told him what had happened he felt sick every time he saw Patton.

So Virgil moved to the grey. The neutral part of the imagination where nobody ever went to and that nobody could find unless you weren’t looking for it. He came by on occasion. Talking with Logan or Roman, bickering with Deceit. But it wasn’t quite the same as it had once been.

Roman and Deceit both went and taught themselves sign language. Roman wanting to be able to communicate with his brother once they had realised that he seemed to have completely forgotten how to speak and Deceit wanting to be there in any way possible.

Remus was able to walk again after a month of practice. Wandering around the living room and swinging along gently when music played.

He worked out together with his brother. His strength returning slowly until he was able to enter the imagination again to go on a quest together with Roman.

He grew closer to Deceit as he had ever been. When they finally decided to put a label on things it had felt natural and nothing had changed.

Half a year later and Remus admitted to having fallen for Logan as well. Tears streaming down his face and fingers shaking as he signed the message. 

And Deceit had hugged him and kissed his tears away. Telling him that it was alright and that they could figure this out. And after a month or two Deceit announced that he wouldn’t mind Logan joining their relationship. Roman just happy for his brother and his friends and baking them a cake for the occasion.

And not everything was alright.

Remus wore soft sweaters and leggings. Refusing to put on the outfit Roman had remade for him. 

And they never baked and made a mess of the kitchen while loudly singing Disney songs at 10 am again because the ghost of the thoughts was still present and he refused to make any noise before he was certain everybody was awake. Never sat on the couch together to watch crappy horror movies and laughing at how terrible the special effects were because the voice of Patton was scowling at him that these people had put effort into this movie and ‘why would you mock something like this when everything you create is so much crueller?’ Never danced in the living room to Panic! at the disco, with energy so high it could match Patton’s when he had too much sugar because his mind told him that acting like that was foolish and a waste of his brothers time. 

He didn’t speak his mind like he had done before. Only said what was necessary. No vulgar or odd thoughts. No weird or exciting ideas. Nothing because he had been convinced that it was wrong. That he, his whole nature, his whole being, was wrong.

Remus understood then that Patton didn’t fuse with him because he liked it or wanted to help him. Morality wanted nothing more than to break him.

But life went on and healing was a slow and painful process.

When, after nearly a year of silence, Remus spoke his first words, his boyfriends and his brother had hugged him close while crying happy tears. 

And when, after nearly a year, his brother invited him for movie night again he had agreed.

And when, after nearly two years, he didn’t flinch anymore when somebody made a sudden gesture towards him nobody said anything but he knew they noticed.

And when, after nearly two years, the voice in his head that wasn’t his and the thoughts that weren’t his own began to quiet down, he didn’t say anything. Though his boyfriends noticed that he slept better. And his brother noticed that he spoke his mind from time to time.

And when, after nearly two years, he was dancing to Panic! at the disco in the living room with energy so high it could match Logan’s when talking about the stars, he felt that, though nothing would be the same again, though nothing would ever be quite whole again, he might be able to be okay again.

-

So Uhm… Here ya go?  This was extremely heavy even for me so I’m sorry I guess?  A very quick thing for all the Patton stans that are gonna come for my chins after this: I love him a lot. I love all of them a lot. I just, at the moment, think unsympathetic Patton is interesting to write.

Anyways. Hope this is kinda what you imagined Lance? Yeh. Okay. Bye.

-

Idk if I should put my taglist (I’m gonna but I hope y’all are mindful of the warnings and tell me if you wanna be excluded from heavier stuff/ removed.)

Taglist: @purp-man @crazycookie13o @deceitifullies101 @sapphire-knight @ragingdumpsterfiremess @chronophobica @lance-alt

[agentnorthdakota]

All odd numbers for Zarus. Feel free to skip any, especially if they're too spoilery

Thanks Spencer!! uwu Sorry this took so long! I love this funky druid and I'm curious myself if any of these answers will change as I develop them further and they grow in the campaign~

1. Why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)? When Zarus was young (for a drow), they were taught about nature and other Druidic teachings, which inspired them to actually get out into nature more and be an actual druid themself. Part of the Circle of Dreams, they spent some time in the Feywild, which influenced their magic further.

3. What is their goal right now? They do aim to get back to the Feywild, but Zarus is lackadaisical and drow live a Long time, so despite being presented with a chance to return, they’re like “there’s time for that later~” They’re curious about their friends and have some “souvenirs” to drop off to their friend Cabal first, anyway.

5. Do they follow a higher power? what are their thoughts on divinity? Zarus isn’t really the religious types. The gods exist, certainly, but they’re more connected to the wild, chaotic power of nature than devoting themself to a specific god.

7. Which party member do they understand the least? Defs Caesin atm. They enjoy being in cahoots with him, but are still figuring out his personality and morals.

9. Do they care about their appearance? how much effort do they put into presentation? Zarus cares a fair bit about their appearance – but you couldn’t tell by looking at them. From the outside they seem like the sort of person that put makeup on a couple days ago and is like “eh it’s still good enough” (purely figurative, they haven’t worn makeup in ages). And yet they typically hold themself like they’re dressed in finery, despite the holes in their cheap clothes.

11. What skills are they proficient in? why? Arcana, deception, history, perception, persuasion, and survival. Each has their place in their backstory, but the specifics of why are a mystery :3c

13. What do they dislike about themself? why? He’s the type to be, like… overly positive and hard to ruffle. He also isn’t exactly the most self-reflective. I think he’d have trouble naming anything he dislikes about himself.

15. Do they trust their party? why or why not? Absolutely! :3 I mean they’ve known each other for like a whole day now! (Zarus trusts way too easily)

17. What do they dream about, when their dreams are their own? That’s a good question :3c

19. What haunts them? what doesn’t? Probably more than he knows, or would admit (even to himself).

21. Do they follow their head, their heart, or their body? Well it’s definitely not their head. I’d say a mix of their heart and gut – but they have terrible intuition and danger-sense.

23. How do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? how do they feel about their name? They’d be thrilled to be given any of the above! Nicknames mean fondness, titles mean status, and labels can mean community – all of which Zarus wants. They’re very fond of their name, which is one of the reasons they give it a little too readily.

25. What stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear? Zarus is… probably not the best storyteller, struggling to remember parts, and completely making up others. They’ll talk all day about less linear events though, like various plants, storm clouds, etc. And they’re happy to hear almost any story, as long as the person telling it is enthusiastic and isn’t a stuck-up prick.

27. How do they mourn? If he ever knew how to mourn, I think he’s forgotten how. Death is a fleeting and intangible concept to Zarus, and so mourning would be much the same.

29. Who would they save? who would they be saved by? He’d happily save any of his friends, both new and old, and without regard to any potential cost. And so far he’d be saved by Grimshaw, the only person who’s actually stepped in tried to dissuade his recklessness lol

31. They’re given a blank piece of paper–what do they do with it? (answered this one in a previous post~)

33. What makes them cry? …what does make them cry? Again, Zarus is a very cheery individual. Probably something triggering an old, long-forgotten memory, or one of their friends dying and not coming back. They’d also defs be the type to start crying without even realizing it, still smiling, only noticing when they feel they tears streaming down their face, and reach up to touch their cheek in confusion.

35. Which party member do they worry for? Defs Maco. He’s young and seems naïve, so if there’s anyone Zarus would have the sense to actually worry over, it’s him.

37. What is their favorite thing to hold? Ooooh. Probably an old, worn leather-bound book, whether that’s a journal or a published tome. It would bring them a sense of familiarity and comfort.

39. Are their hands calloused, soft, or something else entirely? Their left hand and forearm are covered with burn scars, while their right is surprisingly soft for a druid, not nearly as calloused as you’d expect from someone who travels the wilderness.

41. What are they attracted to in other people? (also answered this one in the previous post~)

43. Why do they fight? I guess… why not? They aren’t exactly into fighting, but they’re definitely capable, so if the situation calls for it they will fight, especially if their companions are. But they don’t exactly fight to protect themself, and would just as readily try to talk their way out of a situation.

45. How do they hug people? Another interesting one! I think it’s been a long time since anyone actually hugged Zarus. Despite being more of an extrovert, they don’t always spend much time around people, and Zarus can be a little… off-putting. I think he’d melt into a hug, eager to share in the rare warmth and companionship – and having no sense of personal boundaries and how long a hug should last or how closely he should wind the other person in his arms or vice versa.

47. When they meet someone, what is the first thing they notice? How kind they are. Do they treat him with kindness, or disdain? Because the latter isn’t going to win that person any brownie points with Zarus, though they may not say it. Anything else – appearance, social standing, scars, etc – that’s all extra, and typically not of concern.

49. What makes them smile? Lots of things. Zarus is smiling, like, 90% of the time, even if it’s a small smile (and probably somewhat unnerving). One of the rare times they’re not smiling is when they’re pondering something. They’re definitely smiling when they’re mad or offended, there’s just more of an edge to it that an observer might not catch.

51. What is the most beautiful thing in the world, for them? Oh wow. I think… life, continuing on uninterrupted. TW for some gory descriptions for this one. ((A bird with a stick fused into it’s wing that still manages to fly, a deer whose antlers are tangled with the head of another, trapped in an endless battle until it sheds its antlers, flowers and fungi sprouting between the bones of a carcass, the decaying corpse of a whale that brings so much new life to the scavengers who feast on it. There’s beauty in death, and in the unstoppable circle of life – and it’s a privilege to them to hold such a special place in it.)) On a more… traditional note, they definitely do like pretty flowers, and thunderstorms.

53. Which is more frightening to them: day or night? Honestly… I think the bright light of day. There’s comfort and familiarity in the darkness, a sense of home. But in the harsh daylight that hurts their eyes, everything is so stark and clear, and deep down it triggers discomfort, of what they should recall but don’t.

55. Whose hand do they reach out for? Currently? Cabal. They’ve helped him to his feet more than once, and he trusts them. It won’t take long for this to apply to his party, as well, but right now Cabal is instinctually the first one he’d reach for. For the party it will probably be Grimshaw first, since he’s been the most protective of Zarus (even if he doesn’t exactly deem it necessary).

57. What makes them angry? Being talked down to certainly grinds his gears. Zarus is actually decently intelligent, but no matter what, being disrespected and treated like he’s beneath someone sparks his anger, especially considering his backstory.

59. What is a quiet passion of theirs? Making flower crowns, and to a lesser extent, origami. They also very much enjoy sketching various flora and recording information about it, but there’s a sense of work to that as well as passion. Also, fashion. They very much enjoy dressing up, they just rarely have reason to.

61. What kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow? Literally every flower they could find. They’d either pick none, leaving them to grow, or one of each variety (including colour variations). They are very passionate about flowers and flora, so if they started they wouldn’t be able to resist picking one of each.

63. What fight has scared them the most? They’ve only been in a few fights in-game so far, and it’s very hard to genuinely scare Zarus. There is one from their past that would, but that’s getting into spoiler territory ;)

65. What is holding them back? Their unwillingness to accept that anything is wrong.

67. What makes them laugh? Much the same as smiling, it isn’t difficult to make Zarus laugh. They’re quite cheery, so if someone tells a bad joke or makes a clever quip, they defs laugh at it (even when doing so would be impolite).

69. How would they describe their party members? (aaand I answered this one in the previous post as well, so that’s it!)

[luxexhomines]

An Explosive Concoction of Hope and Despair (v.3)

Finally, a Danganronpa-related post! 

I was commissioned to make a revision/appendage to the first commission I had ever received, so I’ll drop the AO3 link (click here!) and put the fic under the cut! If you click on AO3, please be aware that I post some “problematic” content things on that account, but this fic does not contain that content!

It was supposed to be posted on the night of Tanabata, but due to declining mental health, I had to post it later than initially foreseen. 

If you remember this fic, it’s the Junko and Makoto fic where Makoto gets chased around the festival with lots of explosives with hints of teasing/flirting from Junko (but now featuring more explosives & thrills!). 

If you’re interested in commissioning me, please read my rules here! They’re not currently open, but if you seriously want to, I’ll make a tentative waiting list. 

CW for explosives, fireworks, and dynamite! 

If you were to wonder what the Ultimate Luckster Makoto Naegi was up to at this very moment... Well, the answer was that he was in a world of trouble. 

“Gah! Why are you doing this to me?!” 

Makoto just barely dodged an explosion as he dived toward the takoyaki stand to his left, rolled and got to his knees, and started running again. 

If this sounded like a practiced movement, that was because it was. Makoto had been dodging explosions and running away from the Ultimate Despair sisters for the past half-hour: well, mostly Junko, because if Mukuro were chasing him, she already would have caught him, what with her military training and reflexes. 

Makoto gritted his teeth and pushed through the crowd of people. It was the day of the Tanabata festival. He should have been out having fun with his classmates and friends, but instead, he was stuck entertaining Junko and her antics by running for his life tonight. He ditched the yukata for convenience and was wearing only a plain shirt and shorts. He was starting to get pretty tired. After all, he was only an average kid with average athletic ability and a tiny bit of luck. He was beginning to think getting into Hope’s Peak Academy was not good luck as he had initially thought after having to fight for his life on what seemed like a monthly basis. 

He stopped to catch his breath and leaned against a tent. 

“Hey, are you the guy coming in for the next shift?” 

Makoto started to respond to the person coming out of the tent but gets interrupted before he could answer. Something like a hollow sphere plopped down on top of his sweaty face, and the inside did not smell great. 

“That’s great because I’m tired of dealing with the kids. Go inside and put on the rest of the costume. I’m free for the rest of the night,” the guy said, and Makoto heard cheerful whistling as he struggled to stand to his feet. He stumbled inside the tent. He could barely see out of whatever heavy object the guy put on him, but he could see a mirror, and it looked like he was wearing...a teddy bear head? He sighed. It was just his luck. 

Wait...just his luck? 

He spotted the rest of the costume and put it on. Hopefully, Junko could not recognize him in this outfit. But it sure was hot in the costume, so it had better do its job. 

Makoto toddled out of the tent. Might as well do his job while he was dressed for it. It would help disguise him. 

Or so he thought, but he did not predict getting run over by children. Literally. He felt like he was being slowly stomped into dust on the ground by thousands of little kid feet, and he could hear whooping above him. He had pretty much given up until he saw a hand outstretched in front of him. He reached out, and the hand gripped his hand, pulling him out of the mess. 

“Thank you so much,” he said. Makoto thought he was going to cry from relief. But that was when the hand that had helped him stretched out and tugged the ear of his mascot head. The head dropped to the floor. 

It was Junko who had pulled him up, and she was smiling ecstatically, a fat, luxurious cigar wedged in between those pink lips of hers, the cigar drooping from its weight and sparkling in an excessively flamboyant manner. The sparks from the tip of the burning cigar were flying every which way, which served well as a more festive look for the night of Tanabata, but if Makoto knew Junko at all, the true reason for the constant stream of sparks had more to do with the excitement of possible danger by existing as a fire hazard and thus becoming an opportunity for further, greater despair. The cigar itself looked branded and expensive: as expected of a fashionista like Junko, Makoto supposed, but it was the largest, fanciest cigar he had ever seen—excepting perhaps the one Celeste regularly had on her when inviting him to gamble with her. When he took a closer look—well, as much of a look as he could while not getting any nearer to her, since it could prove explosive and deadly—the cigar had a black and white label with an image of...Monokuma? Makoto shook himself out of his thoughts; now was not the best time to be mulling over Junko’s questionably gaudy and abnormally large cigar, especially if he wanted to keep his body intact. 

However, taken aback by Junko’s sudden and flashy reappearance, Makoto watched open-mouthed as she took a piece of dynamite from her hand purse and stuffed it in his mouth like feeding a carrot to a horse. She leaned in sultrily with the cigar still perched perfectly in her lips and touched the end of her glowing cigar to the now lit fuse of his dynamite. 

Junko started walking backward, chuckling and watching as Makoto, with a red face, yanked the stick of dynamite out of his mouth frantically and chucked it as far as he could throw from civilization and ran in the opposite direction. He winced upon hearing the boom and took a look at Junko, who seemed unaffected. 

Of course. She was wearing earplugs. And a rather pretty yukata, for that matter. For once, her hair was not in two ponytails, but one, and she had a single Monokuma pin adorning her hair. 

Makoto sighed and stripped off the mascot outfit, which was sticky from his sweat and uncomfortable either way. It was no help disguising himself from her. She seemed to have a sixth sense just for finding him. 

Even so, he managed to slip away in the crowd of people and purchase a large stick of fluffy, pink cotton candy. As he was about to take a bite, however, Junko popped into view once again. He internally sighed as he watched her stride closer with a scheming grin on her face. 

“Makoto, I made something just for you. Why don’t you have a bite?” 

She thrust a platter of takoyaki balls toward him, and he instinctively backstepped when he realized something was very, very wrong with the unassuming plate of food. 

“No, thanks!” 

Junko kept inching forward with slow steps as Makoto hastily retreated, and she smiled with gleaming, white teeth. 

“Come now, Makoto. Don’t be shy,” she laughed, holding out the steaming, perfectly cooked takoyaki balls toward him, her arms outstretched trying to force him to take the suspicious plate of food. Makoto eyed it as she came closer and closer. His eyes widened in shock for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

“Are those sparklers? What are you trying to feed me, anyway?! Stop, don’t give that to me!” Junko simply smiled, like she expected Makoto would give in soon enough, the way cornered prey might give in to a powerful predator. As Junko’s advances became more aggressive, Makoto reached out impulsively and shoved the plate away from him. “I can’t eat that, I’ll die!” 

“That’s the point-” Junko began to say, but the takoyaki balls drenched in thick, brown sauce, along with the lit sparklers and explosives wedged in between them, were thrown back toward her from the force of Makoto’s push, and they subsequently fell into her open mouth. Reflexively, Junko swallowed the contents of the platter whole. 

Makoto and Junko stared at each other for a moment. 

“Ah, uh-” Makoto stuttered. “S-Sorry?” 

Why was he apologizing, anyway? Junko had just been trying to get him to swallow it only seconds ago. If there was nothing wrong with it, then it should not be a problem for her to eat it herself. Except that there was something wrong with it. 

A muffled sizzling sound coming from Junko’s stomach caught her attention, and she ecstatically smiled as she dove forward and grabbed Makoto, hugging him as tightly as possible while he was caught off-guard. 

“Oh, the despair!” she exclaimed gleefully. “We’ll be blasted to kingdom come in just a few more moments, even though I couldn’t get you to eat it properly.” 

“And why would I eat it?! Let go of me-” Makoto protested, struggling violently in her grasp to no avail. Junko plopped a perfectly manicured hand over his mouth with a sharp look. 

“Shut up, Makoto. I want to enjoy this moment, and you’re ruining it,” she cheerfully said, although her eyes were deadly. Makoto had nothing much to say anymore, anyway, since it was clear that Junko was not about to let him go—but that was not going to stop him from trying to getaway. He was never going to give in to despair; it was against his very nature. He continued to squirm in Junko’s bear hug, although escape was unlikely, and Junko began counting down to the explosion happily. 

“3...2...1…!” 

Makoto screwed his eyes shut nervously and braced himself. Not that it was going to make a difference in the face of dangerous explosives, but he could at least pretend he had an iota of control over the ridiculous situation. 

Only, nothing happened, and he was still intact half a minute later. Junko let go of him, shrugging. 

“Must’ve been a dud,” she nonchalantly said. “Too bad. I thought I’d gotten you that time.” 

She brought her cigar to her lips, which was still ostensibly sparkling, and Makoto could not help but stare at it again. It was the kind of prop that drew attention wherever it went, even if you saw it before. As he was watching, mesmerized, a small, pale white moth fluttered toward it in looping movements. Makoto flinched when it landed on the burning tip of the cigar and smoldered into ashes. 

Junko chuckled, unruffled, and seemingly amused. 

“Ah, that’s the fourth one tonight.” 

Makoto lifted his eyes to meet hers, which were burning like the end of her cigar despite their icy blue hue. She was smiling as usual, but Makoto couldn’t restrain the shiver that ran down his back. 

“The fourth moth that burned to death on your cigar?” 

She smirked. 

“Yeah.” Her crystalline blue eyes bored into him. “Pity that I just can’t get you to join them,” she commented offhandedly. “After all,” she brought an elegant, white hand to his tan cheek, “you’re the one I want the most, Makoto.” 

Another chill, not unlike her fiery, cold eyes, came over him like a douse of ice water. He stared back at her, his jaw set.

“I won’t join them. Not now, not ever.” 

Junko laughed, the sound hollow and high-pitched. 

“I’ll get you one of these days.” She paused and put a hand to her chest, where she casually drew out a colorful stick of dynamite as if simply fishing her phone out of her pocket. “Maybe it’ll be today?” 

With a swift movement that looked all too natural to her, she lit the dynamite, tossing it carelessly into a taiyaki stand—which was thankfully unattended and without any festival-goers nearby. 

Makoto’s eyes were glued to the soaring arc of the dynamite as it dropped to the food stall, his jaw gaping. 

“What are you doing?!” 

Junko crossed her arms with a smug smile and took the cigar from her lip, tapping it delicately to get the ashes off. 

“Oh, just going blast fishing.” Puzzled, Makoto gave her a bewildered look. “You’ll see soon enough,” she cackled. 

The taiyaki stand blew up, bursting into a multitude of colors and a dazzling show of lights, becoming a kaleidoscopic display as the many taiyaki pastries flew out of the stall by the dozen and proceeded to rain from the sky like meteorites. Junko held out her hand and happened to catch one of the flaming taiyaki with a piece of apparently inflammable wax paper. She offered it to Makoto with a bright, almost innocent grin as if she had not just blown up a food stall like a maniac. Correction: she was a maniac. 

“Here, want one? They’re perfectly cooked.” 

Makoto shook his head adamantly, his eyes darting around as he watched the countless blazing taiyaki fall from the sky like blistering meteorites from space. 

“I’m good.” Remembering the cotton candy he bought, clutched safely in his hand, he took a look and sighed in relief to see that it was still okay. “I’ll eat my cotton candy, thank you very much.” 

Junko surveyed him as he took a bite, her face blank. Makoto tried to forget she was there, but it was hard, veering on impossible to ignore the presence of someone like Junko, who was the definition of presence. 

He turned his back to her to ignore her, but Junko called out to him in a manner of seconds after Makoto started eating his cotton candy. 

“Oh, Makoto!”

He turned to walk the opposite direction, away from Junko, but he took no more than a few steps before coming face-to-face with her once again.

“Junko?! Ah!” 

He started backing away. With all that she had put him through tonight, he knew this would not end well for him if he stuck around. 

“You scream at me like I’m a monster or something,” she said, feigning hurt. “You wound me.” 

Makoto looked around for an escape as always, but the crowd was dense tonight, as it was each year. 

“Why do you keep trying to set explosives off near me? You’re going to kill me,” he said exasperatedly. 

Junko twisted a stray piece of blonde hair around her finger, looking bored. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s kind of the point. What did you think I was trying to do?”

He shook his head. There was no point in trying to reason with her. It was a better idea to walk away. But before he knew it, he was stopped in his tracks. Something heavy was now attached to his back. 

He turned to see Junko a few feet away, standing where she had been earlier. And she was slowly raising a string to her lit cigar. Makoto’s eyes followed the string. It was attached to whatever was on his back. 

He did not have eyes on his back and could not know exactly what was on his back, but he had enough sense to know that whatever it was, a string attached to it getting lit did not bode well for him in the least. 

He sprinted over to stop her, but it was too late. She winked, and within moments, he was racing into the sky on a bumpy ride. Makoto grabbed at the ropes attaching whatever it was to his back, and they surprisingly tore with ease. Huh. Okay, note to self to try that first instead of trying to stop a despair-crazed high school girl. And for some reason, fireworks were already going on, dangerously close to him. Were they not supposed to be at the end of the festival? And farther away from crowds of people, so no one was hurt? 

But the problem now was that he was hurtling out of the night sky. Luckily, he had not flown too high before dismantling the ropes. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of the hard ground—but he felt nothing. 

Makoto opened his eyes only to see Junko’s face inches from his. 

“Whoa!” 

She just caught him from the sky, and they were standing in a clearing at the festival’s entrance. 

“You know, you’re heavier than you look,” she laughed and threw him aside, his tailbone hitting the hard ground. He groaned and slowly got up on his feet, rubbing his backside. Why did he feel like he already was an old man when he was just a high schooler?

“Thanks?” 

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she smirked and lit a firework with her cigar, tossing it into the sky. 

So it was her, after all, who had been setting off fireworks in the middle of the festival. He should have known. It was unsafe and untimely, after all. But, speaking of unsafe and untimely, a huge pile of explosives had just been carted over behind her, likely courtesy of Mukuro. 

Junko did not even have to look behind her before she took a step back and plopped down onto the messy stacks of dynamite, a lazy smile on her lips as she puffed away at her cigar. 

“W-What are you doing?!” Makoto stammered. “You’re going to blow yourself up like that! And it’ll probably hurt people at the festival too since there are so many explosives!” 

Junko rolled her eyes. 

“Again, that’s kind of the point of me sitting here. Way to state the obvious.” 

Confused, Makoto rephrased his words. 

“Weren’t you trying to blow me up?” 

Junko laughed and shrugged. 

“Yeah, but this is fun too. Just part of the excitement, you know?” 

Something strange was swirling in those pale blue eyes of her, and Makoto had seen that look enough to know what it meant. She was enjoying the thrill of despair. 

“Suit yourself, I guess,” Makoto said, backing away for what seemed like the umpteenth time of the night. “But keep me out of it.” 

Junko pouted and pursed her lips. 

“You’re no fun! Why don’t you come over here and sit next to me, Makoto?” 

He shook his head, eyes wide, and started to turn and walk away. But before he knew it, he felt a hand on his shoulder forcefully stop him and turn him so that he faced its owner once again. 

“Come on, don’t be lame,” Junko sighed. “Here, take this, and this,” she said. She took her cigar out of her mouth and popped it into Makoto’s mouth, who coughed slightly from the smoke but tried not to drop it on the ground. Then Junko promptly pushed an armful of dynamite and other varied explosives into Makoto’s arms, who automatically caught them. It was his nature to be a pushover helpful.

“Wait, what are you doing? Why are you giving me your cigar?” 

Makoto tried not to drop anything, but then he realized he had a smoking cigar in his mouth, and if it happened to light any fuses, he would be dead. 

“Blow some stuff up, dude! Don’t be a drag and rain on my parade,” Junko smirked. “All you gotta do is put the end of the cigar to the fuse!” 

Makoto immediately dropped all of the explosives on the ground, and they clattered against each other noisily as they fell and rolled around. 

“Why would I want to do that?!” 

“It’s fun!” Junko cackled and scooped a few more sticks of dynamite back into Makoto’s arms, shoving them against his chest in a pushy manner. 

Makoto threw them away from himself and took the cigar out of his mouth. 

“I’m not you! I don’t enjoy blowing things up or near-death experiences,” he said exasperatedly. “Stop giving me explosives, and take your cigar back.” 

Junko eyed him for a good few seconds before taking the cigar from Makoto’s fingers and putting the cigar back in her mouth. 

“Ooh! Indirect kiss,” she squealed. 

Makoto winced and wiped his mouth. 

“That was so unnecessary,” he replied dryly, unamused. 

“Unnecessary, but true!” she sings in his ear, and Junko swings an arm over his shoulder. 

“Yo, take a look over there. I got it for my last birthday,” Junko said proudly and pointed to a large, shadowy figure in the distance, but still rather close to the festival.

He raised his head to look at what was over there. It was rather big and towering over the trees where it had been placed. A...Junko statue? Makoto started to sweat. It was giving him bad vibes. 

Sure enough, the real Junko had separated from him and was standing a few feet away from him, holding a TNT plunger. He attempted to grab it from her, but he was still weak in the knees after getting tossed like a salad in the air from being an unwilling participant to his little fireworks adventure. 

She pushed down on the TNT plunger triumphantly and cackled as the statue burst into pieces. Makoto breathed in sharply and watched as the festival descended into chaos. 

People were running around screaming as rubble on fire fell from the skies and rained upon the festival booths, setting things on fire and destroying merchandise. Before this, no one had batted an eye at their explosives and fireworks, since it just seemed like a couple flirting weirdly, the explosives seemed fake, and fireworks were normal any way, but now that safety was severely compromised, everyone was turning to point fingers at Makoto and Junko. 

But Junko could care less. She was hoping to see a piece of flaming rubble land on Makoto, who was still standing out in the open carelessly. It was then that she saw a figure grab his arm and pull him away, and she punched the booth nearby in anger, which collapsed under her force and a stray boulder, the plastic poles holding it snapping in half easily. She had been so close. 

“Come on, Makoto. It’s not safe here,” said Kyouko. 

Makoto let him get dragged away, and then took a second look at Kyouko, who had let go of him after he was now walking without her prompting. 

“You’re here at the festival?” 

She nodded. 

“Yes, and I’ve been watching you run around like a trapped mouse.” 

Makoto stopped walking in the middle of the road to gawk at her. 

“You’ve been watching? And you didn’t say anything?” 

Kyouko sighed. 

“Yes. Can we keep walking? I’m not going to be lucky enough to avoid getting struck down with flaming rubble like you.” 

Makoto started walking again but at a faster pace to accommodate Kyouko’s stride. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “But could you help me escape her? I just wanted to have a good time at the festival tonight, but I’m stuck trying to run away from her all night instead.” 

“Runaway from who?” a voice said imperiously. 

Makoto turned to see Junko sitting on a rocket barely a meter away. 

“Junko!” He turned to ask Kyouko for help, but the detective had already disappeared into the night. He curled his hand into a fist in irritation. Sometimes she could be so...ugh! 

“Come here, Makoto,” Junko beckoned. 

Makoto was about to politely refuse before he felt something hard pressing at his back. He had never felt one pressed to his back before, but he was guessing this was a gun, probably operated by Mukuro. A chill ran down his back. 

“Okay, okay, I get it! I’m coming.” 

With little other choices, he walked over and climbed onto the rocket with Junko, taking a seat.

“Good boy,” Junko said, grinning and patting him on the head, ruffling his brown hair. 

“I’m not a dog,” he sighed. 

“You are if I say you are,” Junko said. She held up the fuse in one hand, and in her other hand, she momentarily pinched her cigar between elegantly manicured fingers and tapped it. Its glowing ashes fell onto the fuse, and within moments, the two were flying into the sky. 

Makoto tried to hold on, but his hands were still sweaty, and with little grip to keep him ahold, he slid off of the rocket, falling, and watched as Junko continued, soaring through the night sky, the stars twinkling. The rocket exploded to reveal a firework image of Junko riding it, who winked—seemingly at Makoto himself—and then took a seductive drag on the firework cigar before she ostentatiously blew a firework smoke ring into the sky, gloriously lighting up the night. He could not help but smile a little at her fireworks, so utterly Junko-like—but such an endearing moment was quickly interrupted by the leftover bits of the fireworks dropping into a ring of fire around him into the ground. 

He scooted away from the fire and sat in the dirt in the forest, beside the ruins of the festival. It was not his time to die yet. Or was it? He wondered when he saw what looked like a shooting star, heading straight for his face. 

Something crashed into him, and Makoto fell over onto the ground, blinking blankly as he lay on the ground. 

The something was Junko, and she was sitting on top of him—straddling him. She was a sight to see, and not because she was beautiful, though this too was true; she was covered in soot and parts of her yukata were smoldering, holes in the fabric ringed with singed black. She leaned down and took her cigar out of her mouth, tapping its ashes out centimeters away from Makoto’s head, smiling in the insane way she usually did when she was high off of despair. 

“What a night, am I right?” she giggled. 

Makoto gulped and looked away from her. 

“No thanks to you,” he said, almost bitterly. But he was too nice to be sour about it. 

Junko laughed dismissively. 

“It’s a night you’ll remember forever, though. Immortalized in the history of Tanabata Festivals.” 

“Is this why you did it? Chasing me around with explosives and blowing stuff up?” Makoto demanded. 

Junko shook her head and took a drag from her cigar before answering. 

“No, of course not, silly! I wanted to see you suffer, and I wanted to feel despair,” she responded happily. “You little nitwit.” She flicked him on the forehead, and he blinked reflexively. “Daww, did that hurt? Here, I’ll kiss it better.” 

She bent down and placed a rather gentle kiss on Makoto’s forehead, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought it would not be too bad to date Junko Enoshima. 

But then she stepped away from his body and aimed a gigantic rocket launcher at him, courtesy of her other half, Mukuro, and he was brought back to reality. 

Makoto scrambled to his feet and began running in the opposite direction. He watched as a missile shot by Junko and meant for him tore through a tree less than a meter away from him. The missile soared upward and disappeared into the sky. He shuddered to think what would have happened to him if the poor tree looked this miserable. 

As for Junko, she had been slightly put out at her newly failed attempt to kill Makoto, but not too put out—after all, there was still much more to come. However, she did notice the unfortunate lack of sparks coming from her cigar, which truly was put out. With a smirk, she looked in Makoto’s direction and started to walk over.

The sound of Junko’s footsteps alerted Makoto to her presence, and he turned and watched as she made her way over to him with swaying hips and a sultry smile. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” She took the cigar from her mouth, the head of the cigar dragging sensually against her lips, which were glossy and moist. “Got a light?” 

Before he could answer her, though, fate had decreed its will, and a bolt of lightning struck the earth just millimeters from Makoto and hit the tip of Junko’s cigar straight-on, relighting her cigar and blasting her into the air. Makoto watched with an open mouth as Junko went flying away and over the trees of the forest beside the festival grounds in what was a rather spectacular manner. At least, if not for how ridiculously perilous the situation was, even if it was just like the way cartoony villains got sent flying out of the panels in the comic books Makoto avidly read as a child. 

When he realized he was holding his breath, he started taking sputtering breaths once again; the dynamic and chaotic nature of all that Junko involved him in seemed to have startled him into a moment of shock. Makoto took a seat against a tree close to where the festival was, one of the few that was thankfully still in one piece. 

From here, he could see all of the festival grounds, and it appeared as though people were salvaging the remains of the festival and setting up to have fun again. Fires were put out, stands erected once again, and children were playing games at different stalls with bright smiles on their round faces. With a smile of his own, Makoto walked into the festival. At least Junko had not completely demolished the festival grounds. It appeared hope would prevail yet again.

Makoto walked to a booth and purchased a candied apple. He strolled and surveyed the area with a lenient eye, warmth fluttering inside as he watched the children play with yo-yos and run around. Finally, he could enjoy the festival a little bit and live like he was just 18 years old—or maybe not. 

“Makoto! Maybe you should check your pocket.”

“What for?” he said, and looked at his back pocket, only to find a stick of dynamite lodged there snugly. “Gah!” 

He grabbed it, avoiding the spark, and chucked it into the woods. ‘Sorry, trees,’ he apologized internally. ‘Crisis averted,’ he thought to himself and wiped the sweat off his brow. He was getting tired of the whole defying death deal and running away from explosions all night. 

It was then that Makoto happened to notice out of the corner of his eye a hint of blond hair. The smell of a cigar wafted through the air and mingled with the scents of oil and sweets. Junko’s lustrous, long hair had become undone, her hairpin from before having been blown off when lightning struck her, and the tip of her cigar, sitting comfortably between her lips again, was crackling with electricity. Along with those details, he saw in her hands a gigantic, colorful, festive-looking mallet. 

“Sweet dreams, Makoto!” 

He barely had the time to panic or form any coherent thoughts before he found himself hammered with the mallet Junko was wielding. It would not be until later when he was conscious again that he would realize the mallet’s uncanny resemblance to the Mallet of Luck, Uchide-no-Kozuchi. It was an unfortunate coincidence—though knowing Junko, it probably was not a coincidence but another sick joke she had prepared for his torment and thus her amusement. 

A burning sensation on his cheek forced Makoto out of his unwilling slumber. He reflexively jolted his body away from the source of the pain. 

“Wakey-wakey, Makoto! Sleeping beauty’s got to wake up now unless he’d like another kiss to wake him up a little more thoroughly,” Junko chuckled, now holding the culprit of Makoto’s first, burning kiss—her cigar—between two slender fingers. 

He woke up to the breezy night air and found himself perched on a ledge a little bit above the festival. It was an ideal place for viewing fireworks. Aside from there being Junko Enoshima nearby, that is. His cheek was stinging, and he could feel the ashes sticking to his sweaty skin unpleasantly from the tip of Junko’s cigar she had unceremoniously and firmly pressed to his face. He itched to rub them off and cool his burn, but he felt too sluggish to move. His head was pounding as if Junko had somehow hacked into his brain and managed to lit fireworks inside it. With her abilities, he would not doubt the possibility if he did not remember that he had been whacked over the head by the oversized mallet she had been holding. 

“Makoto! You’re awake! I thought I’d have to kiss you again. Our main attraction is almost ready,” Junko cooed with delight. 

Still woozy, Makoto looked around in a daze. 

“Huh? Main attraction?” 

Junko walked over to an enormous black cannon, which was swathed in bright, gaudy streamers and had strings of paper origami stars hanging off its sides like colorful, sparse bead curtains, and she laughed maniacally. 

“Look, it’s a cannon! It fits a human—or two—inside! All I gotta do is light this baby, and you’ll go boom boom!” She took a nice, long drag on her cigar before pursing her lips and letting out a stream of smoke. “I borrowed the cannon and mallet from our adorable, tiny upperclassman, Hiyoko. Not that I asked her or anything, but never mind that—aren’t they simply magnificent?” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in delight, her face pink with excitement and her trembling lips pressed together. “Ooh, I just can’t wait!” 

She sauntered over to him and leaned in close, the tip of her fat cigar brushing against his nose sootily. 

“And you’ll be the guest of honor tonight, Makoto! Ooh, I’m so excited! I simply can’t wait!” 

With that, she brought the humongous mallet that’d knocked Makoto unconscious to the end of her cigar, lighting the mallet on fire—it was easily flammable or perhaps coated in a flammable substance. With a single swing of her mallet, she hit Makoto into the air with a flourish, spinning in a crude and yet undeniably beautiful manner before sending the flaming mallet hurtling straight into the sky with a great throw. The eye-catching hammer spun just as Junko did, and it burst into an elaborate, magnificent display of fireworks. The firepower behind the mallet came from the excessive amount of firework powder tightly packed into its head, which had also made it a weighty and fearsome weapon for Junko to brandish before it exploded. Although Makoto was too preoccupied with soaring into the air and subsequently falling, the rest of the festival-goers were able to appreciate the large, colorful image created, which was a resplendent copy of the mallet before it had exploded. 

Makoto dropped into the mouth of the cannon almost perfectly. The rest of the firework mallet fell out of sight. 

“Hey! Get me out of here!” he banged his fists on the curved metal from inside the cannon, but it was useless.

“No way!” Junko snorted. “You’re live on television and streaming online. Be nice to my viewers! And of course, we’re close to the festival too, so they’re gonna have front and center seats to you getting shot outta that cannon!” 

“I’m going to really die this time,” Makoto groaned and put his face in his hands, sitting in the darkness. Hopefully, Junko would set out some fireworks, and his death would not seem too grim. 

“Of course you will, sweetie! Now it’s time to light this baby,” Junko shouted into a giant megaphone enthusiastically. People from the festival looked up at her to see what was going on, curious. “Once I light it, there’s no going back! This fuse can’t be put out. The cannon will be shot tonight, and the lucky rider is going to be Makoto! What a fine opportunity you have to see this special view tonight, folks! Happy Tanabata!”

Junko took the long fuse of the cannon, which was extended for dramatic suspense, and put the end of her cigar to the fuse, lighting it. She climbed onto the barrel of the cannon cheerfully and plugged her ears, a smile stretched from cheek to cheek on her face. But of course, shooting Makoto into the sky just wouldn’t be complete without a good jab at him before. 

She scooted up the cannon and popped her head into the mouth of the cannon. 

“Hey, Makoto-whoah!” 

Junko tumbled inside in a surprising show of uncharacteristic clumsiness. With the shaking of the cannon from her falling inside, Makoto fell forward and dove face-first into her chest. 

“Mmph!” 

Somehow, Makoto managed to extract himself from her chest, but not without a lot of awkward shifting in their positions inside the cannon. 

“You know, this would be the part where I punch you into space—except that the cannon’s going to do that for me,” Junko snickered. 

“Gh! Sorry,” Makoto said, feeling his face grow hot. 

“No harm done,” Junko said. “Except that you’re tarnishing a young girl’s purity,” she teased him. 

Makoto sighed and shook his head in exasperation. 

“Anyway, look at what you’ve done. Now we’re both stuck in here. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t tried to shoot me out of this humongous cannon.” 

“No,” Junko corrected him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t avoided death earlier when I was setting off explosives.” 

“What?” Makoto exclaimed. “So I’m just supposed to lay down and explode from a stick of dynamite?” 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “That’s what’s supposed to happen. Or you’re supposed to be unlucky and get hit by a piece of flaming debris.” 

“And what’s the point in all that?” Makoto asked cynically. 

“Because I like you,” Junko said rather abruptly. “That’s why I’ve been chasing after you all night and setting off explosives near you. I just wanted your attention all along.” 

Makoto rolled his eyes. 

“You’re joking, aren’t you.” 

“No, I’m not,” she replied, and for once she sounded serious. “I like you, Makoto.” 

He looked at her blue eyes, blond hair, and torn up yukata. Junko Enoshima was quite possibly one of the most beautiful girls he had ever met, not to mention one of the most insane girls he had ever met. And yet, was it possible? He stared at her, trying to decipher her, and then she burst into laughter. 

“Bwahaha! You’re so naive, Makoto. How could I ever like an ordinary, non-despair-inducing guy like you?” she said cuttingly. 

Yeah, she was the same Junko he had always known after all. 

Makoto sighed, looking at the still-lit cigar in Junko’s mouth. Honestly, the nerve of this girl… 

Wait. The cigar was glowing rather brightly, which let him see a little. It seemed like there was a chink in the cannon somewhere next to his butt. He felt around and pressed at it, and he suddenly fell through the walls of the cannon and onto the plain ground. A sense of relief coursed through him as he glanced up and saw the hatch close back up. Makoto stood and ran. The cannon had been elevated, so there was ample space under it to stand and walk. The fuse seemed to be running out as the spark traveled closer and closer to the butt of the cannon. 

Meanwhile, Junko sat in the cannon comfortably. 

“He got away again,” she sighed. “How despairful… But on the bright side, the cannon’s about to fire!” 

She puffed at her cigar in excitement. 

“This is gonna be a good show.”

She climbed out toward the mouth of the cannon and stuck her head out, looking around. There he was. Makoto had not gotten too far yet since it had only been a few seconds since he had escaped. 

“Yoohoo, Makoto!” 

The person in question momentarily stopped running away and looked over. Of course. Who else would be calling his name? She was waving at him, too.

“Wish you were here,” Junko winked at him and blew out a smokey heart ring before settling back inside the cannon, even though at that point, it would have been easy for her to simply climb out of the cannon.

Outside of the cannon, Makoto sprinted away, plugging his ears. He stood safely in the forest and watched as the cannon shot out one Junko Enoshima, who appeared a dazzling shooting star bursting forth. Accompanying her takeoff were relentless waves of flashy, chromatic fireworks, interspersed with showers of gold fire. Following the launching of the cannon, not a second passed without another booming firework to fill the darkness hanging above. Hot, bright sparks flew out from the display, and the ground rumbled, quaking with the vibrations and noise of the massive contraption exerting—no, unleashing—its force. 

“Yes! Despair!” she shouted. “Woohoo!” 

The distance made her voice seem faint, but it was miraculous Makoto could even still hear her at all amid all the noise. People were watching from the festival grounds, clapping and cheering for her. After all the trouble she caused, they were rather happy she had been shot out of a cannon to somewhere hopefully far away from the night’s festivities. Makoto himself was simply relieved that it was not him who was shot out of that cannon. Who knows what would have happened to him?

And with that, the night of the Tanabata Festival came to a close; it was a grand finale truly befitting of all that had preceded it. The shining Junko Enoshima disappeared into the night sky, brilliantly twinkling out of sight with a “ding!” 

“A fitting end, don’t you think?” 

Kyouko was standing next to Makoto, who startled at her words and glanced at her briefly before looking back at the beautiful night sky. 

“Kyouko? When did you get here?” 

“I was here all along,” she smiled. “You ran over here after I got here.” 

“So you were going to just watch as Junko shot me out of that ridiculous cannon,” Makoto said in an accusing tone. 

Kyouko shook her head. 

“I knew it’d end up like this.” 

Makoto turned his head to look at her. Kyouko’s pink eyes were shining slightly. 

“Did you open the cannon hatch to help me escape?” he questioned. 

Neither confirming nor denying his words, Kyouko just smiled mysteriously. 

“I’ll just say it was lucky that you escaped her plans again. As expected of the Ultimate Lucky Student.”

It was then that Makoto felt something hit his head as it had simply dropped out of the sky—and it might as well have; when he caught it after it bounced off his noggin, the object in his grasp turned out to be Junko’s lighter, now safely in his possession. It must have fallen out of her pocket when she blasted out of the cannon. 

Makoto turned his gaze back to the night sky where Junko twinkled out of sight, the sky no longer brilliantly lit up by the fireworks or Junko’s ride through it. Despite all that he had gone through tonight at Junko’s expense, with attempt after attempt to blow him up, he hoped that she was alright wherever she ended up landing. Though, it was not exactly his first time seeing Junko get caught up in these kinds of things: mishaps, or adventures if you will. That is if you liked for your adventures to constantly put your life at risk. 

He glanced down at the lighter clutched in his hand, the smooth metal reflecting the pale moonlight that now shone forth in the absence of other flashy light displays. He sure hoped that Junko would maybe, just maybe, grow out of her extreme antics and unusual disposition for attracting—or, making—trouble someday. 

Omake

Junko flew through the sky, her trusty cigar still in her mouth, and she protected the end from the wind as it burned vicariously. With no way to slow down her rocky flight—assuming she even would want to—and the multitudes of explosive power from gunpowder and other contraptions still on her person, Junko ignited most gloriously. 

From far away, the scorching ball of fire she became seemed to be a shooting star soaring through the night sky. As she blazed through the sky in a fury of orange, the people down below gazed up in wonder and, thinking she was a shooting star, made wishes on her. If she had been cognizant of this, Junko would have fallen into despair from accidentally turning herself into a symbol of hope. It contradicted all that she aimed to be and for the most part, still was, if not for her current appearance that had temporarily elevated her into an unidentified flying object that could hypothetically grant wishes. 

Thanks to all the power in the cannon that Junko fastidiously prepared, her flight through the sky travelled a great ways away from the festival. If she were to hazard a guess, she’d traveled hundreds of miles at the very least, and for a brief moment, she thought she might’ve lost consciousness as she reached space, where the air was thin and unforgiving. But luckily—or unluckily—Junko quickly started free-falling back to earth. The wind gave a great roar past her ears as it clawed at what was left of her already ripped and thoroughly burnt yukata. The air pressure adjusted with her great fall, allowing her to breathe, even if she was still dropping at a dangerously accelerating rate. 

With a big splash, Junko plunked into the water by the shore of a deserted island, effectively extinguishing her cigar and herself. Being completely submerged in the water, she flailed until her head was out of the water again and sputtered slightly, though she kept a firm grip on her cigar. A trusty keepsake like her cigar should always be at her side, after all. It was custom-made, too. 

When she made it to the sandy white shore, crawling and coughing, she clambered back onto her feet and attempted to dry herself off, wringing her hair and the rags of her clothes. She was alive and surprisingly well, aside from being thoroughly charred and bruised from her ride through space. But even escaping with that amount of injury seemed to be getting off lightly, considering all that she had gone through. 

Junko chewed on her cigar, which now faintly tasted of saltwater from the ocean, though she didn’t need the cigar to taste the salt—her mouth was already tainted with the ocean water after she’d unceremoniously been dumped into the water and half-drowned, like a cube of sugar might be dropped into a cup of hot tea. At least she didn’t simply dissolve the way sugar did, though, and the water was lukewarm, being summer. She felt around herself for her lighter so she could relight her cigar, but it was nowhere to be found. All she came up with was the fine grains of sand sticking to her damp skin. Junko sighed. It must have dropped out of her pocket on her ride over here. Hopefully, it would set some trees on fire and bring despair somewhere, she thought to herself.

“Can’t a girl just smoke a cigar?” she complained. 

But at least she did not have any more explosives or fireworks to set off anyway, she thought to herself. It had been a good night, though. It was despair-inducing that she ended up getting shot out of the cannon instead and that Makoto escaped a gruesome fate yet again. 

“Makoto sure is one lucky bastard,” she reflected. “Well, I guess he hasn’t really got anything else going for him, though, so it’s his one saving grace. Everything else about him is the most average of the average.”

She looked out over the open waters and dark sky, watching some fireworks faintly go off in the distance. The myriad of colorful lights was beautiful as they sprinkled in and out of existence, even dimmed by how far away she was watching them from. They reminded her of all that’d happened during this one night, which inevitably led her thoughts to the past times she’d attempted to put Makoto in extreme danger in her usual despair-inducing manner. 

Fondly, she remembered when she’d gently nudged Makoto toward the train tracks by swinging her school bag toward him—there wasn’t much in it, really, just a few bricks—only for him to trip and spin, falling in the opposite direction and comically face-planting on the train platform, whereas Junko had also tripped, but toward the actual train tracks. The oncoming train had barrelled straight into her, and she’d landed a good ten meters away from the train from the force of impact. They’d rushed her to the hospital, where she was put in an entire-body cast and stuck in the plain white room, bored to death for a few months. The only minimal comfort was that she had her other half, Mukuro, to be her hands and feet while she was immobilized. 

There were a few other instances that Junko had tried to put Makoto in danger, from plain incidents like locking him in the freezer room in a warehouse, to movie-esque occurrences like following him on a crazy car chase with Mukuro behind the gun and shooting at his car. Each time, she had met her defeat in all kinds of different ways, shameful, odd, and painful—and yet, oh-so enjoyable. 

As she watched the fireworks, it suddenly occurred to her that one of those so-called fireworks was actually the missile she’d fired off earlier, and it was hurtling straight in her direction at Mach speed. 

“Uh-oh.” 

Makoto was holding a teddy bear plushie and eating konpeito, candied stars, when he noticed a huge, billowing mushroom cloud in the distance. Along with it came a deafening, faraway kaboom that rumbled the ground and sent tingling vibrations up his legs. The top of the cloud had ears and the fluffy shapes had an uncanny resemblance to the head of Junko’s beloved Monokuma. 

His phone vibrated with a notification, and he pulled it out only to see a message from Junko, which read: 

“I’m alive!😁✌️ Bet you would be dead if you were me 💕💕I’ll get you next time 😜” 

His phone vibrated again, and a photo appeared in the chat. Did he even want to look? He sighed. Better to know what was going on, after all. 

He tapped on the photo to reveal Junko herself, covered in black ashes from head to toe. Her yukata was even more torn up than the last time he’d seen her—it was more shreds of scorched fabric than an article of clothing at this point—and the overbearing cigar was still snug between her lips and lit. It looked like the cigar had been relit by the explosion of the missile's remains, which he could see in the background of her photo, just next to her feet. As expected of Junko: not even a ride through space from a massive cannon and fall from grace could defeat her, and neither could a military-issue missile.

Makoto was not looking forward to the next time. He very much hoped there would not be a next time.

But the fact that Junko was alive ensured it, and he put his phone back in his pocket, accepting his fate. Hopefully, the next time, he would come out alive and safe again, if not a little ragged.