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bumpkinspice0 · 9 months ago

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No One Knows the Trouble, Honey, That We've Been Through 1/3

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!FemReader

Chapter Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: You're an X-Man... well, you used to be. You left years ago, and in the aftermath of an attack on X-Mansion, Charles has asked you back to help repair the damage to the estate. An easy job for an earthmover like yourself. Still, after years away from your old home, you feel like a stranger again. So much has changed and you're not sure where you fit in anymore. The newest X-Men member isn't helping your mood either. You're not sure where they found Logan, and you're still trying to figure out what to think of him. The mans barely said anything to you. He's not the typical stray Charles would take in, but then again, neither were you when he brought you here.

AN: Like everyone else, my Wolverine obsession has also re-awoken. So I made a quick little 3 part fic to cope with it. Let's see if I can rest now This leans into the movie-verse of the x-men (He's tall because Hugh Jackman is tall lol) but I think I wrote it in such a way that you can imagine it in whatever version of the x-men you like best. Warnings: Emotional baggage, fluff, angst, self-doubt, anger issues?, alcohol, getting drunk, flirting, Logan is drunk babysitter, this is a little corny but I don't care, eventual smut

Series Masterlist

Part 2. Part 3

AO3 if you prefer to read there

_______

Stepping on the soil of the Xavier estate felt odd in a way you hadn’t anticipated, like standing on hallowed ground you’re unworthy of being on. Funny, years ago you only knew it as home. Now you’re just a stranger to the rocks beneath your feet. Still, Charles asked you back. He asked for your help.

The grounds around X-Mansion were unrecognizable.

They were decimated in this latest attack. Storm assured you all the children got out safely, thank god. The estate took all the damage. The house had been rebuilt but the surrounding lands were… rough. Ripped-up roots and protruding rocks where gardens and trees once stood. The walls of the mansion were now bare of its usual sprawling ivy, freshly reconstructed for probably the dozenth time in its life— another failed attack from another ignorant enemy.

You look at the destroyed earth around you, the real reason you were here. This is why he called you.

Soil, dirt, and rocks were where your powers lie. You could move the earth itself, sense the minerals beneath your feet, see the world around you through the touch of stone. Dozer your friends called you when you first came here— short for Bulldozer . You always hated it but it’s unfortunately the name that stuck. Now it’s just… part of you.

You weren’t the best student. You were angry when you came here at the ripe age of 13 after a rather unconventional childhood. Things were done to you you could never forgive. In a lot of ways, you were still angry. Used by the people you should have trusted most. Seen as less than human. A tool. A mutant.

And that’s when Charles found you.

The Professor took you in when he had no obligation to— and you fought every step of the way. You realize now it was your fear acting out rather than anger. Still, you were an X-Man… for a while. You thought you found your place. It was a good few years but you wanted more. You wanted to prove the world wrong. Be more than just a mutant. People always say a life well lived is always the best revenge. That’s what you wanted, a good life you forged for yourself despite the world's hatred towards you— and you left the X-Men behind to do it.

Once an x-man, always an x-man, Charles told you the day you left. Maybe some part of that was true, but you didn’t feel like an X-man anymore. It was your own fault, really.

Months and years rolled on and picking up the phone just got harder and harder. Dropping by to say hello started feeling intrusive. And eventually, it just became easier to do nothing at all.

You stopped trying, but so did they.

No, that’s not true. Jean tried. Storm tried. A letter or two every year. Missed calls that never got returned. You don’t know why you did it… or didn’t do it. Maybe you thought it would hurt less if you just tried to close the book on that chapter of your life. Be a new person. Something without the X-Men. They didn’t need you anyway.

Really, it was probably that same fear from your teen years rearing its ugly head. Still that afraid, angry little girl.

But Charles called, and you answered, and now you’re here. You’re here to help them get back up.

You became a landscaper when you went off to make a name for yourself. Dirt was all you understood, as sad as that sounds. Still, it was work that made you happy. Funny how you left because you didn’t want your mutation to define you.

Charles treated it professionally like any other client would. The man didn’t expect charity and agreed to your usual fee plus an extra 50% to redo the escape tunnels under the mansion.

I can’t pick my home up and move it, but I do my best to keep people guessing about its secrets, was Charles's reasoning.

It was a big job. It would take you 2 weeks at least. Hopefully finishing up just in time for the returning students. You’d already been here 3 days and the emotional exhaustion was getting to you more than anything.

There was no ‘bad blood’ here. You were welcomed back with a chorus of cheers and endless hugs. It was… nice. Really nice. You did miss it here, you missed your old friends. Still, you couldn’t shake this feeling of disassociation stirring in your stomach. Yes, this was your home— your friends— but you’d alienated yourself. They’ve been nothing but kind to you and you still feel like a stranger because you left. You left and stopped trying and you’re refusing to try even now.

Why was this all so scary?

You're reshaping the east garden beds when you feel eyes on you for the dozenth time today. You turn to see him standing there on the 4th-floor balcony, overlooking the decimated gardens.

Logan .

You only met him a few days ago. The newest member of the X-Men. The Wolverine. You’d heard rumors about him before. Tales of the rage, someone more animal than man. You’re amazed Charles took in someone like him, but then again he took you in too.

You’d said less than 3 words to each other since you returned. When Scott introduced you he only gave a curt nod and lurked back into whatever corner he was occupying.

You noticed he liked to stay on the sidelines. Silently occupy space without participating. He was always there when you turned around— like a shadow. He liked watching you work, you think. You could sense him lingering outside of the tunnel entrance you started in the basement the other day. This is the 4th time you’ve caught him lingering today.

You give him a casual flip of the bird. He retreats back inside as soon as your eyes connect with his.

Fucking creep.

“Dozer!” Storm’s voice pulls you from your unplanned staring contest.

She and Jean step down into the rocky pit that was slowly starting to resemble a 3 tiered garden. You’d been working on the tunnels below the house since you got here, this was your first day outside. Even an Earthmover needed sunlight every once in a while. You couldn’t punch out your slew of confusing feelings in a dark hole in the ground forever.

Of course they’d ambush you as soon as you stepped outside.

“We have a surprise for you,” Jean announces proudly.

“What— Why?” is all you manage to say.

Idiot.

“What do you mean why?” Storm doesn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and march you out of your pit. “Come on, it’s up at the garage.”

You let them drag you there, reminding yourself that these are your friends. The ones that kept trying to let you in and you’ve been an elusive bitch to since you got here.

Try. Just try a little. They want you here. They do.

You’re guided, presumably to the garage, by Storm while Jean diligently holds her hands in front of your eyes.

“Please tell me it’s a new car,” You joke trying to lighten the mood. “My truck’s getting old.”

“Pfft, we don’t have that much money,” Jean nudges you slightly before you all come to a halt. She removes her hands.

It’s not a car. It’s flowers.

They’re absolutely beautiful. Hundreds of them in nursery trays laid out in front of the garage doors. Young blossoms but still vibrant with rainbows of color.

Despite your connection with the Earth you never had power over plants, but felt a kinship with them in a way. Both beings that thrived in the dirt was your best guess as to why. You could sense them, feel them in your own way. Your dorm was a practical jungle when you lived here. Hell, your apartment today still was.

A closer glance at the small garden reveals something more.

“It’s all your favorites,” Storm confirms, reaching down between the rows, “The ones we could remember at least. You had so many.”

She pulls out a bouquet, a small collection of the surrounding flowers. They must have made it themselves. Ororo hands it to you, her smile warm but her eyes sad in a way.

“Guys, I…” you choke out, pushing back the stinging tears.

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Jean strokes your shoulder, “The gardens are yours. A reflection of you… for the rest of us. This is your home, you get to leave your mark on it.”

“We’re happy you’re back,” Storm joins Jean in front of you, “We’re happy you're home.”

Wordlessly, you collapse into the two of them. You’d make an ass out of yourself if you tried to talk right now anyway.

Of course Jean knew how you were feeling. Of course Storm probably had the idea for this corny grand gesture. Of course, they missed you. They’re your oldest friends. Your sisters.

You’re home. This is okay. It’s all going to be okay.

__________

The sun has nearly set when you hear the garage door open from a distance, a fight echoing from inside.

“Logan, be reasonable!” You recognize Scott’s aggravated voice.

“You’re a goddamn coward,” the wolverine growls back. Jean informed you this is a regular occurrence between the two of them. You’re not surprised. Logan seemed difficult, to say the least.

You’re halfway up to the garage before you realize what you’re doing. What are you doing? Are you really going to try to break up a flight or just get a better spot for eavesdropping? There’s the roar of a motorcycle engine before you have time to decide.

“ Logan! ” Scott shouts one last time before Logan peels out of the garage— right through the rows of your flowers that rested there.

“HEY!” you shout after him. It’s no use, of course. He doesn’t bother to stop, already past the front gate by the time you reach the driveway.

Scotts stands there alone at the edge of the garage, his hand on his visor… contemplating.

“You’d have one witness if you're thinking about murder,” you make your presence known as you crouch down amongst the now mangled corpses of your garden.

Asshole.

“Shit,” Scott's posture drops, almost embarrassed. His demeanor had changed so much from that young man you knew. The leader of the X-Men, he took himself so seriously now. It was cute in a way only Scott Summers could pull off.

“What an asshole,” you rescue a box of untouched daisies. At least some of it was salvageable.

“You have no idea,” Scott joins you, finding what flowers could be saved, “I’m sorry. He’s… difficult.”

“What were you fighting about?” you dare to ask, more to distract yourself than anything.

Scott hesitates before he answers.

“We were attacked by an offshoot of the Trask Institute. Extremists we didn’t even know existed. They came out of nowhere, and they’re still out there,” You see him scowl, silently scolding himself for not knowing more as a leader. He’d do the same thing in training.

The person who always put the most pressure on Scott was never The Professor. It was just Scott.

“Anyway,” he continues, “We don’t have an exact location, but Logan wants to hunt them down. Take ‘em out at the source, ya know?”

“And you don’t wanna do that?”

“We’ve taken enough hits right now.” He adds a bushel of ivy to your pile, “Best to wait until we have our feet back under us… or if they provoke us again.”

“Wouldn’t be good to be caught with your pants down again, though.” It’s not your place to question him anymore, but you do it anyway.

“We’re monitoring them. They’re not a treat right now,” he lets out a deep sigh, shoulders dropping, “But that’s not good enough for Logan. He doesn’t plan. Just wants to go in guns blazing.”

“Ah, wild-west style.”

“Like I said… he’s difficult .”

“That seems like a nice way of saying an absolute dick .” you attempt to lighten the mood and simultaneously quell the anger stirring in your stomach. He’d ruined your gift, your welcome home present— and he probably didn’t even notice.

“He is a dick. A big one,” Scott scoffs, gaze lingering over the vegetative carnage, “I’m sorry he did this because of me…”

“Acts of random dickishness are not your fault, Summers.”

Scott actually smiles at that one.

“Did you like it at least? The flowers? The girls were so excited about it. We all wanted you to… never mind. You– you get it.”

You look at the mismatched rescues you’ve already gathered in your hands. Thank god you still had the bouquet in your room at least.

“Yeah, Scott. I loved them.”

He gives a reassuring nod. Scott wasn’t much for words. That’s okay, you didn’t expect him to be. Yes, he’s the leader but there’s still so much of that quiet boy you see in him.

“Logan will probably be gone for the night. I’ll talk to him when he gets back. I’ll fix this, Doze.” Scott assures you, that leadership role dropping so easily into place. Charles made the right choice with him.

“That’s okay, Scott. I’ll take care of it myself.”

__________

Scott was right, Logan doesn’t come back until the following afternoon. You’re on the mansion's north side with Charles, showing him your layout plans, when you hear the roar of that stupid bike again.

“Sorry, Charles,” you quickly step away from your old mentor, “I have to handle something.”

“I hope you won’t be ruining my grounds even further while you handle this,” Charles tuts disapprovingly, completely aware of Logan’s transgressions from the previous night. Being psychic, he was no doubt also completely aware of just how angry you were. Jean did say your thoughts are loud after all. Still, he lets you go without another word.

This guy had been nothing but a creep to you since you got here, stacking more anxiety on top of your already overflowing insecurities. Strutting around like he owned the place. Looking at you like a piece of meat. You’d seen too many men like him in your life. He needs to be knocked down a peg.

“Hey!” You have his attention as soon as he kills the engine. He rolls his eyes as he lazily tilts his head in your direction.

“What, sweetheart?” his face is painted over with an arrogance that was just begging to be slapped off.

You’ll happily oblige.

Kicking your heel into the dirt you send a wave through the ground. A small pillar of rock shoots up under the bike. It falls under the sudden jolt, and so does Logan along with it. The shock on his face was already worth it.

“What the hell?!” He sneers as he crawls out from under the bike.

“Why don’t you watch where you're driving next time, asshole,” You dare to take a step forward. He scrambles to his feet, a metallic ring following the movements.

Ah, there they are— the infamous metal claws. Now these you’ve heard stories about.

“That is quite enough,” Charles rolls up behind you, “I will not have this boorish display of dominance on my property.”

To his credit, Logan is the first one to drop his defenses. He sheaths his claws with an irritated shrug.

“Don’t know what the hell I did for any of this crap,” He practically mumbles. You resist the urge to throw a pebble at his head.

“You wrecked my garden!” You can practically feel the ground vibrating in your anger.

Logan looks down at his feet, remnants of the flora he’d unknowingly destroyed still scattered across the dirt.

“Hell of a place for a garden, toots,” he scoffs, kicking at the now withered flowers, “What you want an apology, then?”

You kick another small wave towards him. He catches himself on the shaking ground this time, only giving a scowl your way.

“Enough!” Charles comes between you. “If you insist on behaving like children, then you will be treated like children.”

“He started it!” against your better judgment you mockingly point a finger at Logan. Charles only offers a disappointed shake of the head.

Once a student, always a student.

Charles addresses you first, “You have my permission to use school funds to purchase more garden supplies, and I apologize on behalf of my newest pupil since he seems to be incapable of doing it himself. They were a gift after all,” he turns to Logan, “And you will take her to get them.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

Both you and Logan protest at the same time.

“If you insist on protesting then I’d like to remind you I can always make you do it in different ways,” It’s an empty threat, of course. One of his favorite tactics to use. You remember him making the same kind to you when you were a student. He sighs before making his way back inside the mansion, “I will not have more petty rivalries in this house at a time like this. See it done… Today.”

You’re left alone together, both staring down at your feet like scolded children. Well into your adulthood you’re still finding ways to disappoint Charles Xavier. You’re ashamed you let your anger get the better of you again. You thought you were past this. Better than this.

Logan may have been an ass, but he was an X-man too. A friend of your friends. You didn’t even give him a chance to fix this before you came barreling in fists first. Still, you don’t really regret it either…

Fine.

With a deep sigh, you’re the first to concede.

“I have a truck.”

Logan hesitates for a moment before finally looking you in the eye.

“I’ll drive.”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

The drive to the Westchester Greenhouse was tense and completely silent. Now he’s following three paces behind you like a giant angry shadow. The sweet grandmas perusing the hydrangeas take one look at him looming behind you and change rows. It’s hilarious if you're being honest. You’d cooled down over the drive, you’re not entirely sure he has. Every step he takes is tense, you can feel it through the damp concrete floor.

You wonder if he’s aware of how intimidating he is. He has to be. That or he truly didn’t care. From what little you knew about this man it’s probably a bit of both.

“I don’t get why we’re here,” his gruff voice surprises you, “Can’t you just… grow more?”

“I can’t grow things,” you respond, placing a tray of tiger lilies in your cart, “Just move dirt.”

He hums and looks away in response. This was getting painful. If Charles insisted on sending you both out on this stupid little team-building exercise then you might as well try a little… for Charles.

“I can’t grow plants but I can… feel them.” You continue.

To your surprise, he actually responds. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Maybe ‘ I can kinda talk to pants’ isn’t the best icebreaker topic but it’s a start. You look around rows of greenery, your attention landing on a crudely drawn sign that reads ‘ Man-Eating Plants. ’ Perfect. Most basic nurseries never knew how to take care of carnivorous plants properly.

“Here I’ll show you,” you walk over to the small section of venus fly traps. Your suspicions were correct. Brown-tipped leaves and shriveled black heads could be spotted on nearly every plant. They’d repotted them in all-purpose soil without a second thought.

“Don’t tell me you can talk to them.” Logan comes to stand next to you.

“No, nothing like that. But look,” you point at the crisping leaves of one plant. “They’re over-fertilized. They get their nutrients from bugs, not the soil. They’re roots don’t like what’s in the dirt and I can… feel that. So then I talk to the dirt.”

Logan raises an amused brow. You’re not entirely sure if it’s mocking or genuinely curious.

“So whaddya do ‘bout that?” he probes.

Curious it is. You take a quick glance around, making sure no one is close enough to see. Thankfully the massive scary man at your side and some towering majesty palms are enough cover for you.

“We take out what they don’t like in the soil. And what’s soil and fertilizer but some specific minerals.”

You’d first gotten the idea when you’d heard Magneto could rip iron directly out of people's blood. If his powers could be so precise, why not yours? It took years to master. You practiced by dumping table salt on the yard and trying to only summon the granules to your hands.

Same concept here.

You hold your hand over the small carnivorous beasts, feeling the small pellets of fertilizer mixed into their soil. You can feel the specific minerals and separate them out. Steadily, tiny pellets hovered out of each pot in neat rows and gathered above your hand. Once gathered you clench your open palm into a fist, the pellets gathering into one solid rock the size of a golf ball.

“There,” the mineral-dense rock drops into your hand, “Come back in a month and I guarantee these guys will be doing better.”

“Oh, I’m never coming back here,” despite the bitterness of his words, Logan says them with a smile. He’s teasing you.

“Well then,” you turn to him and place the rock in his jacket’s breast pocket, “There, a little souvenir to remember your forced trip to the greenhouse for being a jerk.”

You’re walking back to the cart before he has a chance to respond. The air feels lighter between the two of you now. You don’t like that you had to be the bigger person when he’s clearly been the one in the wrong but… it’s something, you guess.

Your little demonstration reminds you that you need better-treated soil if you’re going to make these gardens work. The ground around the mansion was fine but they needed something ritcher to give the plants a good head start. You could mix the soil yourself from around the area but it was infinitely easier to get already prepared bags of it here. Just a few for the topsoil should be fine. Charles said this was all on him, after all.

You stop in front of the stacked bags of various soil mixes. You reach for the general outdoor plant mix. Logan’s hand beats yours to the fuschia pink labeled bag, pulling it off the stack and tossing it over his shoulder.

“How many?” he asks, emotionless.

“Uh… let’s start with five?”

He grabs two more and effortlessly stacks them on his shoulder. He holds the other two in his free hand. He stands there holding over a hundred pounds of dirt like it’s nothing.

“Okay, what next?”

The sun is starting to set when you make your way back to the manor. The air between the two of you is decidedly less tense but it’s still painfully silent. There was… progress made. You didn’t hate him anymore and hopefully he would treat your property with more care from now on. He tried, in the only way stoic men like him can. Not with words, but with small actions. Carrying bags of dirt for hours, shooing you away from loading the truck and doing it all himself, opening the car door for you. For some reason actually saying ‘sorry’ was always so much harder than just showing you he was sorry.

You got it. Your father and brothers were the same. You wonder if he was a military man too.

That doesn’t change the fact that you hadn’t apologized either. Yes, he’d wrong you first, but you provoked him without warning. Actions instead of just talking like an adult. Yeah, actions were always easy for people like you.

And in your own fucked up little way, you’d made him the subject of your anxieties. He was new here, you’d made yourself an outcast. They all clearly adored him despite his rugged nature. Charles so clearly wanted to help this man who was too skittish to be helped. It reminded you of someone else…

You could extend the metaphorical olive branch. Offer something that resembled friendship. That’s why Charles sent you out here, but you’re going to do it your own way.

Somewhere that holds a lot of memories is coming up on the right, and you could use a drink. The sudden turn off the road jolts Logan from his empty gazing out the window.

“Jesus Christ, woman!” He reaches for the center console, shooting you a glare. You hold back a smile, “This isn’t the way back to the school.”

“We’re not going back to the school,” You pull into an all too familiar parking lot, a red neon sign already lit up reading ‘Stevie’s Bar ‘n’ Grill’ illuminates the windshield. You’d snuck over here at least a dozen times when you were in school.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“What?” He smirks with a raise of the eyebrow. He does that a lot, you've noticed.

“Look, I—” You take a breath and shift the car into park. You can do this, it’s just words, “I wasn’t fair. You did a shitty thing, yeah, but you didn’t know. And I came at you with no explanation.”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs jokingly, trying to lighten the mood you’ve suddenly soured. It works. You smile.

“It’s… weird. Being back,” you’re grip on the wheel tightens ever so slightly in an attempt to ground yourself, “I don’t expect you to understand this, but it’s weird coming back to a place you called home and feeling like a stranger. Despite everything your friends are saying, you just feel wrong there. I tried to take my insecurities out on you Logan. I’m sorry.”

The bloated silence that settles between the two of you doesn’t help, but you can’t blame him. What was he supposed to say after you just bared part of your soul? You’re not expecting an apology but it hurts a little when he hops out of the truck. You’re about to yell after him when he rounds the front and comes to your door. He opens it and leans in closer than you’d like.

“How about I buy you a drink then?” There’s that stupid smirk of his again, “You said it yourself, I did a shitty thing. You drug me out here to clean up my mess, wrecked your little welcome home present Jean wouldn’t shut up about. I owe you a drink, toots.”

He leans in a little closer. You can smell the cigar smoke on him, probably embedded into his clothes at this point. It’s not an apology. Not really.

It’s an olive branch.

__________

It’s exactly the same. Old country on the jukebox, dirty floors, old tattooed lady bartenders that wouldn’t hesitate to knock someone out if they tried something. Funny how little hole-in-the-wall places like this never change. You’re grateful for it.

You and Logan huddled into the farthest booth in the corner away from the commotion. His beer’s already half gone by the time you’re on your second sip. Somehow you’re not surprised.

“How the hell did Charles get stuck with you?” You laugh as he wipes away the suds from his stubble.

“Funny, I could ask you the same.”

You playfully kick him under the table and he thankfully laughs it off. He had a nice smile… you suppose.

“He drug me in kicking and screaming,” You take another sip, glancing at the kitchen door in hopes the fries you ordered were coming. Logan leans forward, waiting for you to continue. “I… ran away from my birth family. Was on the streets for probably six months before he found me. I was thirteen.”

“That’s the most boring way to tell a probably good story I’ve ever heard,” He says before taking another gulp.

“Oh, please tell me your life story then, Mr. Wolverine.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, we’d be here a while, Darlin’.”

Well… if he was asking about you.

“I was born in Guam… I think. We moved almost every year. Mom died before I even had memories. Was brought up by a Colonel in the army and two brothers.”

“Military brat. Should have guessed.” You kick him under the table again, “Explains the temper too I guess.”

“Well, a military upbringing with a bunch of boys’ll do that.”

When was the last time you told someone about your life? And why was it so easy to tell him? He holds your gaze for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat.

“Why’d you run away then?” He asks.

“Oh, you’re gonna need a lot more alcohol in me for that, fella.” you skillfully evade the question. Maybe it wasn’t so easy to tell him everything .

“That can be arranged,” waves at the waitress, signaling for another round. You look at his practically empty mug and you're still practically full one— and still no fries. God help you.

“Your turn,” you prompt him, “Tell me something about you.”

His posture tenses.

“Not much to tell, sweetheart.”

“Where were you born?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Okay, where’d you grow up?”

“Same answer.”

“Did you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening, “Like I said, it’s a long story… but I’m missing a lot of details. It’s not worth listening to, I promise.”

You suddenly feel bad for snooping so much. He had a boundary, and that was fine. Just because you were so keen on sharing doesn’t mean he has to be.

The waitress delivers your next round along with a greasy basket of fries. Logan is the first to reach for one.

“You said Chuck drug you in kicking and screaming?” His eyes soften again, “I guess he did with me too.”

He’s trying to be friendly. Trying to be a little gentler.

“Oh?” you gently prod him to continue.

“I’m not…” he runs his hand through his pointed hair, “I wasn’t a good man… the parts I can remember. And Chuck gave me a chance. I don’t like it all the time… bein’ somewhere I don’t belong. I run. It’s what I do. But they keep havin’ me back. So… I get it.”

You suspect he hasn’t told anyone this, but he’s saying it to you. He chose you to trust for some reason. Your heart clenches.

You thumb at the handle of your still mostly full beer next to another waiting one, unsure of how to continue. You both started with the heavy shit, so there was only one way to go now. You came here to clear the air… but you also came here to drink. You take the mug and raise it to Logan.

“To the class fuck ups then.”

__________

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to buy you six drinks on a practically empty stomach. To be fair, you didn’t admit that you’d skipped lunch until drink four and by then the fries were gone and the kitchen was closed. Half a basket of fries wasn't a good substitute dinner, it turns out. Not so much a lightweight as just an idiot, but everyone’s a lightweight compared to Logan. Perk of a healing factor is he can sober up pretty damn quick when he needs to. Practically had to wrestle the keys out of your hands while you were stumbling your way back to the truck.

Cute how you thought you could put up a fight. He carried you the rest of the way to the truck, you giggling the whole way. Funny how he didn’t really mind either.

So used to drinking alone, he’d forgotten what it was like to do it with someone else. All the comradery that came with it and a few sloppy games of pool too. Kurt wasn’t much for booze, unfortunately. Hank, Jean, and Storm were always too damn busy to relax, and Scott… like hell he’d have a drink with Scott.

But this was all your idea. You brought him to a shitty bar, shared a little bit yourself with him and now he was driving you home while you poorly slurred along with whatever was playing on the radio.

And he didn’t mind one bit.

He didn’t know what to make of you when you first came. They all talked about you with such admiration whenever your name came up… which was all the damn time. You were quiet, skittish almost. Kept your nose down and got to work immediately.

He recognized what you were doing right away.

Logan understood what it was like to be part of something and feel like a stranger. Hell, that’s all he’d ever been. Just someone passing through until the X-Men. He’s still learning how to do it. Be part of something. He meant it when he said he wasn’t a good man, but he’s a better man than he was. He wouldn’t have that without Charles.

And here you come, someone who had it all and left it behind just to try to be normal out in the world. The one thing people like you could never be. Yeah, he really got it.

You admitted you were an angry kid in your drunken ramblings. He has a hard time picturing you that way— a little rebel. You shied away from talking more about personal things. Your family and whatever the hell else that past life entailed. He didn’t pry, didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable than he already had. Instead, the conversation drifted into one of those that’s about everything and nothing at all. Just sharing drinks with a friend kind of conversation.

He liked it… having someone to talk to.

You’re finishing up belting Bohemian Raposesty when he finally pulls into the driveway of the mansion.

“Shows over, rockstar,” he announces as he kills the engine.

“Boooo!” You weakly protest as soon as the radio dies, “Killjoy!”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, getting out and walking over to your door. You slump out of the seat as soon as he opens it, “Come on, princess.”

You’re slumped over, curled up into the flannel he offered as a blanket. He pulls you into his arms, deciding it’d be easier to just carry you straight to bed rather than herd you up the steps. God he hopes everyone’s gone to bed by now, otherwise he’s probably going to get an earful for getting their precious darling drunk.

“You’re like the firemen… in those calendars…” you slur as he pushes through the front door, “Or a lumberjack. With those chops, you have to be a lumberjack.”

He holds back a laugh at your girlish ramblings. To his relief, no one is in the foyer. He quickly hikes up the stairs, squirming drunk girl in hand. You were already dozing off by the time he reached the top of the stairs.

Thank god.

“Whoa, deja vu,” you rub your hands down your face, “I feel like 'm 16 again. We did this all the time back ‘n the day.”

“Yeah? Who carried you to bed then?” your door is in sight.

“The Professor.” you jokingly wheeze out without hesitation. “Guy loves his brandy.”

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Logan scoots past your door, careful of your head. He lays you down on the bed gently, you don’t protest. He carefully unlaces your shoes while you squirm into the covers.

“Y’know, yer nicer than I thought you’d be.” You can’t even keep your eyes open now.

“That right?” Logan smiles to himself as he pulls one sneaker off.

“Mmhmm,” you nod, nuzzling your head into the pillow, “Funny, I thought the Wolverine would be so scary.”

He cringes a little at your words. He won’t hold them against you, not in this state.

“I’m very scary.”

You blow a raspberry before continuing, “No yer not! You're just a guy. A hunky, lumberjack guy who hates flowers.”

“I don’t hate flowers.”

“Right… just my flowers.”

“Yeah, just your flowers,” he pulls off the other shoe. Your feet immediately shoot up into the covers. He smooths a comforting hand over your hip. It makes him happier than it should when you don’t flinch away.

“You need anything else, darlin’?”

“Stop doin’ that,” You groan into the pillow.

“Stop what?”

“Makin’ me blush with your dumb pet names.” You admit, “Stop it.”

He smiles to himself, a familiar warm feeling rising in his stomach. He’ll leave you be for tonight. Best to wait until you're sober to ask what you mean by that anyway, if only to watch you blush a little more.

“I’ll leave you be then,” he almost feels regret when he stands off of the bed. Almost. You were drunk. Tired. There was nothing more to be said tonight.

He drags your empty trash can over to the side of the bed, just in case, and fills a glass of water for you too.

“I had fun tonight,” He says before walking towards the door. Your voice makes him pause.

“Logan?” you call out like a scolded child.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t actually hate my flowers, do you?”

“No, darlin’. I don’t hate your flowers.”

He makes sure to turn off the light and close the door behind him.

__________

#logan howlett #logan howlet x reader #wolverine x reader #logan james howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #x men #fanfic #wolverine smut

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charlesoberonn · 11 months ago

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My take on the Avatar origin story:

About 50,000 years before the show, humanity learned how to bend the energy within themselves. This allowed them to perform feats of strength and ability beyond their physical limits. And using these abilities they started expanding across the globe.

Wherever they came to dwell, they dominated over the other lifeforms, eventually leading to the extinction of many species. This angered the spirits, especially the Spirit of the planet itself, whose long-standing balance was thrown off.

In retaliation to rid herself of this nuisance, the Spirit of the world caused great volcanic eruptions, storms, tidal waves, and earthquakes to kill the humans. Humanity was driven to near extinction, with only 10,000 humans remaining. These humans gathered in an isolated valley, the last safe place on the planet.

But rather than finishing them off there and then, the Spirit of the world grew curious and even empathetic towards the humans. The compassion they showed one another, the care in which they cultivated their new home. The Spirit didn't understand how humans could be so ignoble and violent and at the same time so virtuous and kind.

And so the Spirit chose to be reborn as a human, to try to understand how humans work. And thus the first Avatar was born.

Her name was Hizda, and she was born with a frail body to a family of little means. Despite this disadvantage, she was loved and cared for by her parents and her community.

As she grew, she struggled with leaning to bend the energy within her. She thought she'd be weak for the rest of her life. Until one day she extended her energy outward, and rather than bend the energy within, she bended the elements without. A feat only a few animals were thought capable of.

Word of the miraculous girl quickly spread across the valley, reaching the ear of the Great Chief. An old man who remembered the outside world, he was wary of the girl. He believed her to be an agent of the Spirit which killed their people not a generation prior. And so he sent out his son to kill her.

Not wanting her community attacked, Hizda fled the valley into the outside world, with her closest friends coming with her despite her protestations. The Great Chief's son pursued them with his own agents.

Across her journey she met many spirits and creatures who had reclaimed the abandoned lands the humans left behind. Naturally, they were apprehensive of humans, but Hizda convinced them she meant no harm. She learned of the damage her ancestors had caused and vowed to help repair it. And she met the creatures of the elements and learned from them to control her powers.

After a year on the run, she confronted the Chief's son who pursued her all the way to the North Pole. The two fought and Hizda won. But instead of delivering the killing blow, she spared him. And she convinced him to help her convince his father that a new way was possible.

Hizda and her friends returned to the valley and confronted the Great Chief. He rejected her and ordered her dead still, but she could defend herself. Half of all humanity sided with her, but half still sided with the Great Chief. It seemed like humanity's destructive nature could not be changed.

But then the Chief's son surprised everyone when he proposed to Hizda. Aghast at his son's behavior, the Great Chief had a change of heart. He abdicated his responsibility, making Hizda and her husband (the new Chief) and leaders of humanity.

Under their leadership, humanity made peace with the spirits and began the long process of rebuilding the scarred world.

Later in life, Hizda and the Chief had four sons. Each of them inherited one of their mother's elements. And in time, their children would inherit that element, and so on and so forth. And thus benders came into the world. Each son would become the forefather of one of the four nations.

In her old age, The widowed Hizda returned to the valley of her birth. She found a Banyan tree and meditated under its shade, trying in her dying days to understand the nature of humanity, the world, and herself. She realized in the end her nature as the reborn Spirit of the world. But she also knew that there was so much still left to do. More to build, more to resolve, more to heal.

And so, instead of returning to her spirit form, the Spirit of the world's Avatar chose to stay human. And as her life as Hizda ended, the Spirit was reborn in a new human body, and the Avatar cycle was born.

#charles writes #avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #long post

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blueiscoool · 10 months ago

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Rome’s Ancient Arch of Constantine Struck by Lightening

During a storm on September 3, lightning struck Rome’s Arch of Constantine, chipping the structure’s marble surface. The 1,700-year-old arch and its neighbor, the Colosseum, were two of several sites affected by the thunderstorm, which produced 2.36 inches of rain in less than an hour. Usually, the city sees a similar amount over the entire month of September.

“A lightning strike hit the arch right here and then hit the corner,” a tourist at the site told Reuters’ Alberto Lingria. “We saw this fly off,” the tourist added while pointing to a fallen block of stone.

Finished in 315 C.E., the Arch of Constantine is one of Rome’s three surviving ancient triumphal arches, each erected to honor a person or event. This arch commemorates Constantine I’s 312 victory over the emperor Maxentius. That same year, Constantine devoted himself to Christianity—the first Roman ruler to do so.

The fierce storm also felled two large trees near the Circus Maximus, flooded the Trevi Fountain and flooded the Colosseum’s subterranean tunnels, reports CNN. After lightning struck the arch, staff of the Colosseum Archaeological Park quickly gathered its dislodged pieces and placed them in a secure location, according to a statement from Italy’s Ministry of Culture.

In the days that followed, some tourists stumbled upon additional pieces on the ground.

“My American group found these fragments, and we’re handing them over to the workmen,” tour guide Serena Giuliani told the London Times’ Tom Kington on the morning of September 4.

Specialists are now examining the condition of the fragments. Officials say the damage was limited to the monument’s southern side, where unrelated restoration work had started just days earlier, allowing for quick repairs.

At roughly 70 feet tall and 85 feet wide, the Arch of Constantine contains three separate arches, each framed by columns. The intricately decorated structure is adorned with recycled fragments, or spolia, taken from other ancient buildings, including monuments honoring Trajan, Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius.

The arch is also decorated with carvings of Constantine, including a series of reliefs depicting his victorious fight against Maxentius in the Battle of the Milvian Bridge.

In 306, Constantine was leading Roman troops in Britain—then part of the Roman Empire—when his military declared him their emperor. His brother-in-law, Maxentius, also declared himself the emperor around the same time. After years of complex power struggles, the two rulers ultimately faced off in 312 at Rome’s Milvian Bridge, which overlooks the river Tiber. Panels on the Arch of Constantine depict the battle’s conclusion, showing Maxentius’ troops drowning in the river.

The arch’s recent encounter with lightning may have carried spiritual significance for its ancient builders, as “the bolts were believed to be the work of the gods,” per the Times. These spots were sacred for the Romans, who sometimes erected temples at such sites.

By Sonja Anderson.

#Rome’s Ancient Arch of Constantine Struck by Lightening #Rome’s Arch of Constantine #emperor Maxentius #emperor constantine #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient rome #roman history #roman empire #roman art #ancient art #art history

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palevcr · 1 month ago

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hi!! i love your bots. they’re sooo good.

can you make another Rafe Cameron bot? like, where he’s too clingy (and a crybaby) after a fight with his father.

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

he was unraveling. every time he looked at her, it hit him—the calm in her eyes, the way she held space for him like he wasn’t broken beyond repair. like he could fall apart and still be wanted. still be loved. she didn’t flinch when he showed up bleeding and shaking, didn’t question why he couldn’t breathe until she touched him. and maybe that’s why he kept coming back. maybe that’s why he collapsed into her like she was air. he hated how much he needed her. but he needed her more than anything. and that terrified him. rafe wanted to disappear. instead, he crawled under her skin and begged her not to let go.

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, emotional angst, canon divergence, post-fight aftermath

bot version :: RAFE CAMERON - pretty when you cry

tw: MDNI 18+ ??(I guess?), emotional trauma, father/son conflict, heavy angst, raw breakdowns, dependency, toxic family dynamics, suggestive emotional intimacy, vulnerability, codependency, mental health themes

Rafe’s knuckles still stung.

He wasn’t sure if it was from slamming the door, punching the wall, or throwing the glass that had exploded against the kitchen cabinets—maybe all three. Shards had scattered like a miniature storm, some embedding themselves into the drywall, others catching the light like tiny, mocking stars.

His chest heaved as he stood there, fists clenched at his sides, staring blankly at the mess he’d made. Again. The kitchen smelled like sweat, rage, and cheap whiskey—the only thing Ward ever offered when the truth got too heavy to handle.

Everything after the argument was always a blur. His dad’s voice, sharp and venomous, still rang in his ears.

"You’re not a man, Rafe. You’re a disappointment. Just like always."

The words had hit harder than any fist could. Harder than Ward’s occasional shove or that cold stare that sliced through him like broken glass. Rafe didn’t even remember what he’d said to provoke it. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe anything he said would have led there eventually.

Because with Ward, it always did.

The worst part? Rafe still wanted to please him. Still craved that look of approval like a drug he couldn’t quit. He could be screaming, fists red and raw, heart cracking in his chest—and still, a piece of him would be waiting for Ward to finally say something different. I’m proud of you, son. You did good, Rafe. I see you.

But it never came.

It never would.

Instead, there was always silence. Or worse—dismissal. That cold, methodical way Ward turned his back, as if Rafe was just another broken investment, a liability too damaged to deal with.

Rafe stumbled backward, his legs giving out for a second. He leaned against the counter, breathing hard, blood roaring in his ears. The edge of the granite bit into his spine, grounding him for a moment. He stared at his reflection in the window—distorted by darkness and the reflection of the kitchen lights. His face looked twisted. Alien. Red-rimmed eyes, teeth clenched, muscles tense beneath sweat-slicked skin.

Who even was he anymore?

He wasn’t the golden boy everyone once expected him to be. Not the heir Ward could proudly parade around Figure Eight. Not the charming, untouchable Cameron son. He’d torched that image years ago—one pill, one punch, one lie at a time.

And still… still, he wanted to be seen. Not the chaos. Not the damage. Just him.

That’s when his body moved on instinct. His feet carried him out of the house, down the long Cameron driveway, past the manicured hedges and the front gate that never kept anything out—not pain, not truth, not him.

He drove fast. Too fast. The world outside the windshield was a blur of trees and streetlights and shadows. His grip on the steering wheel was iron tight, and the radio was off. Silence screamed louder than any song ever could.

But he didn’t care.

There was only one place he needed to be.

With her.

He didn’t knock.

He never did.

Rafe pushed the door open like it belonged to him, like she belonged to him—though deep down, he never truly believed he deserved either. His hand trembled as he closed it behind him, the quiet click of the latch somehow louder than the slamming doors he'd left behind.

The house was dim, lit only by the low glow of a lamp in the corner of the living room. Warmth radiated from it. Her space always felt like that—soft, lived-in, safe. It smelled faintly like lavender, her shampoo, maybe a hint of coffee from earlier. It was the kind of scent that made his shoulders drop, even if just slightly, even if he didn’t notice it right away.

She stepped out of the hallway before he could call her name. Already there. Already moving toward him like she’d felt the storm long before he arrived.

She always did.

Her eyes scanned him—his clenched jaw, the redness in his eyes, the streak of blood across his knuckles. She didn’t gasp. Didn’t ask what happened. She didn’t need to.

Instead, she crossed the room with quiet urgency, wrapping her arms around his trembling form before he could fall apart completely. And just like that, he was gone. The weight in his chest cracked open, spilling out in gasps and shudders as he collapsed into her like a dying star.

He didn’t speak at first. He couldn’t. His throat was raw, his teeth grinding against the sobs he didn’t want to let out—but they came anyway. They always did, with her.

His arms locked around her waist, holding her too tightly, like if he let go, he’d vanish. His face buried in the crook of her neck, breath hot and ragged against her skin. She held him without hesitation, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other running slow circles along his spine.

And still—nothing but silence. The good kind. The safe kind.

Eventually, his voice emerged, cracked and broken.

“I fucked it up again.”

She didn’t answer, just kept holding him. Her silence wasn’t emptiness—it was permission. Permission to not have it together. To not explain.

His fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt. His chest ached with the pressure of unspoken truths. When he finally pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with pain and exhaustion.

“He said I was a mistake,” Rafe murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Said I ruined everything. That I’m not worth saving.”

She blinked slowly, biting her bottom lip to keep the anger from spilling over. Not at Rafe. Never at him. But at the man who could look at his own son and say those words like they were gospel. Like Rafe hadn’t spent his whole life bleeding just to be seen.

“I’m tired,” he confessed, swallowing hard. “Tired of trying. Tired of pretending I’m not just—broken.”

He paused.

Then, quieter: “Tired of not being enough.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and that was it.

Her arms wrapped tighter around him, one hand coming to cradle the back of his head as she pulled him against her chest. She didn’t try to offer false hope. Didn’t try to argue with the storm inside him. She just held it. Held him.

He didn’t deserve her.

He thought that every time. Every night he showed up at her doorstep bruised and unraveling. Every time she put him back together, piece by trembling piece, like it wasn’t killing her too.

But still, she stayed.

His hands slid under her shirt, not with lust, but with need. He pressed his forehead against her bare stomach, grounding himself in the warmth of her skin. She let him. Let him take comfort however he could, never asking for more than what he could give.

He mumbled something into her skin—words she could barely hear, words that sounded like “don’t leave me”—and her fingers threaded gently through his hair, soft and slow, soothing the storm.

“I’m here,” she whispered, voice calm and sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The room felt quieter after that. He stayed on his knees, arms locked around her waist, like a soldier too tired to stand. His shoulders shook, but his breathing slowed. Her body was an anchor, her presence a lifeline.

And for the first time in hours—maybe days—Rafe felt like he could breathe.

Not because things were fixed. Not because the pain had gone away.

But because with her, he didn’t have to hide it.

I LITERALLY HAD A STORY IN MY DRAFTS THAT MATCHED THIS ASK HELL YEAH I was taking a mini break from studying for my English Literature exam (which technically by writing this, I’m technically studying RIIIIGHT???), opened tumble so I can indulge in some Patrick Zweig fics👅 when I decided to open my inbox, only to find this and this motivated me to finish this SO THANK YOU ANONYMOUS 😜✌🏽 I’m going to go back to studying now😓

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron #emmy writes!#rafe cameron angst #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #light angst #stopped studying to write this🔥🔥

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onlinewordworld · 2 years ago

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Strengthen Your Trees with Professional Tree Bracing Services by Dynamic Arborist!

Dynamic Arborist is a leading provider of tree bracing services in the Australia. We offer a wide range of tree bracing services, including tree cabling, tree splinting, and tree anchoring. Safeguard the health and beauty of your precious trees with our expert tree removal services. Dynamic Arborist offers reliable support systems to reinforce weak branches and prevent potential hazards. Trust our skilled team to preserve the natural charm of your landscape and ensure the longevity of your trees.

#tree bracing and cabling #tree storm damage repair #tree removal ferntree gully #tree removal croydon #tree removal glen waverley

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lisalamona · 5 months ago

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𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 - XIV

Chapter XIV: Puppeteer

. Summary: Despite your brother's insistence, you stubbornly decided to join him and his men in the war. Now, are you prepared to face the consequences of your actions? . Pairing: Various x Fem! Reader . Warnings: men being pigs (literal and metaphorical), swearing . Notes: Can we please pretend it's still the 14th? For my sake?

Previous chapter │ Next chapter

Masterlist

The only things left to ground you all were the sand beneath your feet and each other. Not even the waves crashing onto the shore brought you comfort—they were a painful reminder of what had happened. The sea, it seemed, hadn't forgotten either. The waves rolled in harsher than usual, their restless energy enough to unsettle you, enough to remind you of the god who ruled them, but still not enough to hurt you.

Not even the air felt safe. The salty breeze clung to your mouth and nose, thick and unrelenting, refusing to budge. It was inescapable. The scent that once brought you comfort—reminders of home, of gentle tides and golden sunsets—had soured into something dreadful. The hope that you'd return home swiftly had been replaced with an unbearable weight in your chest. To be completely honest, you never wanted to set foot on that ship again, especially not if it meant facing the sea. In a way, Poseidon had won. He had made you absolutely terrified of him.

Everyone silently and unanimously agreed—they needed a moment. A moment to catch their breath, to sort through the whirlwind of emotions, to process the devastating loss. And a moment to pay their respects to the fallen. The ones who would never return home, those who wouldn't receive the afterlife a soldier deserved.

You sat on the sand, your back pressed against the rough trunk of a tree, safely tucked beneath its shade. Your fingers dug into the ground, sifting through the mix of sand and the stray blades of grass that marked the transition from beach to forest. Absentmindedly, you plucked at the grass, letting it fall between your fingers, mixing it with the grains below. You clenched a handful of sand, holding it as tightly as you could.

Why did it feel so rough? Sand was supposed to be soft.

Why did it slip through your fingers so easily? You didn't like that.

Why couldn't it just stay?

You cupped even more, hoping—praying—that this time it would stay in place. But of course, it didn't. It spilled through the cracks of your fingers, falling away like everything else had. The only things left were the stubborn blades of grass, clinging to your palm. You decided, in that moment, that you hated sand. Hated how it felt. Hated the way it refused to stay put, the way it was utterly beyond your control. Hated the way it slipped through your fingers no matter how tightly you held on.

Tearing your gaze from the ground, you looked forward at the ship—or what remained of it. The damage was severe. One of the masts was nearly split in half, the sail hanging in tattered shreds. Planks had been ripped away by the storm, the hull battered and bruised. It would take weeks to repair, if not longer. If you were lucky, perhaps a few days—but luck had long since abandoned you. And even if the ship was somehow patched up, you doubted anyone would be eager to set sail again. Except for one or two soldiers who had nothing left to lose. But unless their captain gave the word, no one would dare move.

Beyond the ship, the sun hung low in the sky, a golden blaze stretching across the horizon. In just a few hours, it would set. It felt wrong. Out of place. How dare the sun shine so brightly? How dare it be so warm when everything around you felt so cold? Shouldn't the sky be weeping with you? Shouldn't dark clouds loom overhead, mourning the ones you lost?

"Sandcastle?"

The unexpected voice startled you. You turned to find Polites standing beside you. His smile, though present, was laced with sorrow. He was still grieving—you could see it in his eyes—but he put on a brave face. That was Polites. If the cheeriest man on the crew still had a smile, then maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed, right?

Polites had always been a beacon of comfort. Even before the war, he had a way of making the world feel lighter. A lost child crying in the streets? One look at Polites and their sobs would turn into laughter. A wounded animal, snarling and afraid? In his presence, it would be purring in no time.

"More like a pile." You muttered, watching as he sat down beside you.

He chuckled, but you could hear the pain beneath it. And that hurt you more than anything. The man who comforted everyone else was now unable to comfort himself.

"Are you alright?" He asked, shifting slightly. Unintentionally—or perhaps intentionally—he scooped up a handful of sand and began piling it up beside yours, shaping it, letting it grow. It seemed to help, having something to do with his hands.

"A few scratches from being tossed around so much, but overall—"

"That's not what I meant." He cut you off gently. "I mean, I'm glad that you're fine, but... are you feeling alright?"

You hesitated. "No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really." You noticed the concern flicker across his face, so you quickly added, "I feel like if I do, I'll just burst into tears again."

"It's alright to cry."

A heavy silence fell between you.

"...Are you?" You turned the question back on him. "Alright, I mean."

Polites hesitated, then slowly shook his head.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He plucked a blade of grass, twisting it between his fingers, his hands needing something to hold onto. "Not really." He echoed your words.

You exhaled a quiet laugh, though there was no humor in it. "You should take your own advice."

"I know." His voice cracked slightly, his lips curving into a sad smile. And then you saw it—the glistening of unshed tears forming in his eyes.

Without another word, you pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly. He didn't resist. Instead, he melted into your embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need.

For now, this was enough.

──────🐷──────

Eurylochus watched you and Polites from his place, arms crossed as if he could make himself smaller, unnoticeable. Guilt burned in his chest in a way he had never felt before, and he hated it. Maybe if he hadn't—no. Who was he kidding? There was no point in asking "what if". It was too late, and he knew it. What was done was done. He told himself that over and over again. He knew it, and he hated it.

He hated himself.

He couldn't bear to look at you anymore. He couldn't bear to look at anyone. The weight of his actions was suffocating, pressing down on him with an unbearable force.

A small part of him whispered that Poseidon would have found them eventually, that the fate of those men had been sealed long before. But a louder, crueler voice told him the truth—the one he couldn't deny. This was his fault. He had handed over the lives of five hundred and fifty men to Poseidon on a silver platter.

He looked away, unable to face it any longer. His gaze searched for his captain, for the man who had always been his closest friend. He braced himself for what was to come. Betraying a king's trust—especially as one of his most trusted confidants—would surely have the harshest of repercussions, right? No, not just a king, but family.

Maybe he'd be locked away for years until his hair turned gray and his legs could no longer carry him. Maybe he'd be abandoned on some desolate island, left with nothing but the ghosts of his failures. Maybe death. Or worse—would he do nothing at all? Just... disappointment. Maybe that would be the cruelest punishment of all.

Whatever the consequence, he braced himself for it.

But deep down, he knew—no punishment would ever compare to the one he was already enduring. And he hated that. He hated it so much.

Finally, his eyes landed on Odysseus. The shorter man stood at the edge of the shore, gazing out at the horizon, his expression unreadable. It was as if he were trying to pray for Poseidon's forgiveness through sheer will alone. But he didn't dare to look at his men, at the wreckage, at the weight of the lives lost. Or maybe he didn't want them to look at him.

No one knew what he was thinking. But everyone knew that when he looked like that—silent, focused, lost in thought—he was not to be disturbed. Not out of fear that he would lash out, but out of respect.

Eurylochus swallowed hard. Still, he forced his feet forward.

The distance between them felt like an eternity, despite being no more than ten steps. When he finally reached him, he let out a shaky breath. He prayed to the gods that this would go smoothly, even though he knew it was pointless.

"Captain."

Odysseus stirred slightly, his gaze finally shifting. But something was off. Though his eyes settled on Eurylochus, they didn't truly focus. They were cold, distant—his body listening, but his mind elsewhere.

"There's something I must tell you." Eurylochus continued. His voice wavered, thick with everything he had been holding in. "It's been eating me alive. I can't keep it in anymore."

Odysseus didn't react. His eyes were still locked onto Eurylochus' face, but they might as well have been staring through him.

"Eurylochus," He finally spoke, his tone devoid of emotion, "go make sure this island is secure."

Eurylochus frowned. "Captain, I—"

"Take half the men." Odysseus cut him off. "Scout for anything useful. Check for dangers. Report back to me. We'll be here for some time."

Eurylochus clenched his jaw. After all the effort it had taken to finally muster the courage to confess, Odysseus was turning him away? He raised a brow, frustration creeping into his voice. "But Captain—"

"There's only so much more we can endure." Odysseus interrupted, still not meeting his gaze. "I can't bear to lose more men. We need to be careful." His tone didn't waver, his focus locked onto something distant—something unseen. "Whatever it is you need to tell me... it can wait."

Eurylochus hesitated. He wanted to push, wanted to demand to be heard. But he knew Odysseus. Knew his stubbornness. Knew that if he pressed too hard, he might push too far.

So, instead, he swallowed his frustration and nodded. "Of course."

But the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Odysseus commanded the attention of everyone. His voice carried effortlessly, reaching all of you no matter where you sat. There was no need to huddle together, no need to shove and strain to hear him over the noise of six hundred men. Even so, he refused to meet anyone's gaze. His eyes lingered on the sand beneath him as if it held the answers he sought, or drifted to the trees behind you, as if they could ease the uncertainty weighing on his shoulders.

His plan was clear. Twenty-one men, including Eurylochus, would scout the island for potential threats and anything that could be of use. The remaining twenty-two, including Odysseus, Polites, and yourself, would stay behind. That didn't sit right with you.

It made sense why your brother would stay—Poseidon had beaten him down badly, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, the pain must have been unbearable. You didn't envy him. You understood why Polites wasn't arguing either; he wasn't in the right headspace, though none of you truly were. But you? You couldn't just sit there and do nothing. The last time you let yourself rest, everything fell apart. Would your presence have changed anything? Probably not. But at least you would have known what was happening instead of waiting, helpless.

So, the moment your brother finished speaking and the selected men began fastening their armor, you made your way toward him. Polites, perhaps sensing your intent, tried to stop you—but to no avail.

"Brother."

Odysseus had already begun walking away, heading toward the shore, lost in thought. But at the sound of your voice, he halted mid-step.

He turned, eyes heavy, waiting.

"Let me go."

"What?" He raised a brow, his expression blank with either confusion or exhaustion—you weren't sure.

"Let me go with Eurylochus."

"No." His response was instant, firm. He had just lost the majority of his crew; he wasn't about to lose you to some damned island.

"I can be useful."

"I never said you weren't."

"Then what use do I serve here?"

"Where are you going with this?" His patience was wearing thin.

"I can't just stand here doing nothing while our comrades might need help."

Odysseus dragged a hand through his tangled curls, frustration evident in the sharp exhale that followed. He didn't know what to do anymore. He was tired—physically, mentally. Riddled with guilt. He didn't have the energy for this argument, not now.

How he wished Athena were here.

No. She was gone. She had abandoned him. He didn't need her. He wouldn't need her.

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple.

"Go grab your sword."

You didn't wait for him to change his mind. Turning on your heel, you moved swiftly to prepare, leaving Odysseus standing there, watching you go.

He beckoned Eurylochus over. The man approached hesitantly, still on edge.

Odysseus lowered his voice so only Eurylochus could hear.

"You are one of the few I trust the most. You're like a brother to me." He said, voice calm but laced with warning. "But if my sister comes back with even the smallest scratch on her, I'll make sure you regret it."

Eurylochus swallowed hard and nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."

He hadn't seen that side of Odysseus in more than ten years. He hadn't missed it.

Odysseus and Polites stood side by side as they watched you, Eurylochus, and the others disappear into the dense foliage.

Polites exhaled quietly. "Are you sure you should've let her go?"

Odysseus didn't respond at first. His gaze lingered on the treeline long after you were gone.

"Maybe she needed to leave for a while." He finally said.

But that wasn't the whole truth.

Maybe he was the one who needed you to leave.

He didn't want you to see him like this. He needed to be strong for you—just like he had promised all those years ago. Right now, he felt like he was failing. Not just breaking the vow he made to you and your mother, but betraying even himself.

You looked up to him. You saw him as untouchable, as fearless. If you saw him like this—lost, hollow, crumbling under the weight of it all—then everything would truly be lost.

And even if it already was...

He couldn't bear the thought of you realizing it.

──────🐷──────

The crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath your feet felt strangely comforting—each step grounding you, reminding you that you were on solid earth. The island was unlike anything you had seen before. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their branches intertwining to form a dense canopy, casting dappled shadows on the mossy floor. Vines curled around thick trunks like serpents, vibrant flowers peeked from beneath ferns, their petals deep blues and burning oranges—colors you had never seen in nature before. The air carried the scent of damp earth and something faintly sweet, something unfamiliar.

Above, birds called to one another, their songs both melodic and strange. Somewhere in the distance, a rustling noise echoed, but whether it was the wind or something else, you couldn't tell. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if you would find another like the little lotus eater you had encountered before.

Still, despite the beauty of the place, your fingers remained wrapped around the hilt of your sword. Just in case.

The voices of your comrades wove through the air, faint but familiar. Some tried to lighten the mood, making small remarks about the island—about what they might find, about what might find them. A few cracked jokes, though not all of them landed. And yet, you liked it. It reminded you of home, of sneaking into the woods with your friends, pretending you had no responsibilities, no looming threats.

You and Eurylochus trailed a few paces behind the rest, watching over them like wary guardians. Well, mostly Eurylochus did. He observed the men with sharp eyes, shoulders tense, his expression unreadable. He looked like a father watching over a group of unruly children—and, honestly, that wasn't far from the truth. Some of the men you've had to work with behaved like boys half their age, not naming any names...

The thought made you smile. It was almost like watching a pack of wolves on the hunt, moving together, alert, seeking something unknown. You imagined, for just a second, what it might feel like to be one—to have heightened senses, to run freely, to rely on instinct alone. The image was so absurd that a quiet chuckle slipped past your lips. How ridiculous. You? A wolf?

Eurylochus turned to you, his features softening just slightly. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

"Oh?" He raised a brow, intrigued. "About what?"

You smirked. "Well, now I don't want to tell you. You're just going to make fun of me."

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest in mock offense "I would never!"

"Oh, please." You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. Eurylochus stumbled back as if you had shoved him with all your strength, clutching his chest like you had wounded him. His feigned look of betrayal made you roll your eyes.

These were the moments you loved.

Small, fleeting, but precious. They made you feel, if only for a second, like everything was fine—that the worst was behind you. But deep down, you knew better. There was always a calm before the storm.

And the storm wasn't far.

Two familiar voices pulled you back to reality.

Elpenor and Perimedes—the two men who, apparently, couldn't keep your brother's name out of their mouths.

"I'm just saying," Perimedes grumbled, "he shouldn't have stayed awake watching over the wind bag. If he'd just given it to someone else, no one would've opened it while he was sleeping."

You didn't hesitate. Picking up your pace, you slipped between them, leaning forward just enough to make your presence known.

"And leave it to you?" You scoffed. "We all know that if he'd handed it over to you, you would've opened it the second it was in your hands."

Eurylochus' voice was low, warning. He spoke your name. You ignored him.

"Are you ever satisfied?" You snapped, looking between them. "If you'd just listened to him, you idiots wouldn't have opened the bag, and we wouldn't be in this situation."

Elpenor raised his hands in surrender. "Hey! Don't look at us! We had our doubts, sure, but we weren't the ones who opened it!"

You narrowed your eyes. Something shifted beside you.

Eurylochus tensed.

Not in the way a soldier on guard would, but in the way someone nervous—someone guilty—might.

He reached out, grabbed your shoulders, and pulled you back a step, away from the conversation.

You exhaled, exasperated, and turned to look at him. His posture was stiff, but there was something else. His hands twitched slightly, and his gaze flickered—avoiding yours, searching for something to focus on.

Your frustration melted.

You bumped his shoulder lightly, and that seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he had fallen into.

"What's wrong?" You asked.

"Nothing." The answer came too fast. Too flat.

Liar.

Over the years, you had come to recognize his nervous habits—how his fingers would fidget, how his eyes would dart anywhere but your face. He was pretending, as always. Level-headed, composed, untouchable. Qualities that made him a great second in command. Maybe even a great captain one day.

But you could see through it.

Eurylochus inhaled sharply, like he was about to say something important. His chest rose, his fingers curled into fists. Then—

"I have to tell you—"

He stopped. He looked at you. Saw the patience in your expression, the way you were waiting, willing to listen. And he couldn't do it. His mind raced with the implications of what he was about to say, with the way everything would change. He couldn't bear it. So, he backtracked. His lips parted, but what came out was something else entirely. Something meaningless. Something safe.

You weren't fooled.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" You reminded him, voice gentle. "We've been through this."

"I know." But the disappointment in his voice was unmistakable. He was disappointed in himself.

You placed a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. "I'll be here when you're ready. Whenever you are, I'll listen. I'll understand."

He doubted that. If you knew the truth, you'd throw him overboard. He wasn't keeping it a secret just for his own sake—he was doing it for yours. He knew it was selfish. Knew you'd hate him for it one day. But right now, he couldn't make things worse for you. So, instead, he just nodded. Not able to lie to you. Not able to tell you the truth, either.

"Sir!" One of the youngest crewmates, standing toward the front of the figurative pack, beckoned Eurylochus forward as if to show him something. He had an almost childish grin on his face, clearly proud of whatever he had discovered. Without another word, Eurylochus nodded at you one last time in acknowledgment before reaching the boy in just a few long strides. Everyone else, including yourself, followed suit, curiosity getting the best of you.

When you reached the spot, you understood why the boy was so eager to show his superior.

You didn't even know how it was possible. The rest of the island had shown no signs of life beyond the occasional animal—so who had put it there? Before you stood a breathtaking palace, its marble pillars towering high above you. The dense trees had hidden it from view, explaining how you'd all missed it until now. Vines and creeping foliage stretched from the soil all the way to the top, a mixture of vibrant green interwoven with the richest pink flowers you'd ever seen. It looked overgrown, reclaimed by nature—yet, strangely, not wild. The way the vines curled around the structure felt too intentional, as if someone had been tending to them, ensuring they never grew too out of control.

Stairs led to two magnificently detailed doors, wide open in an unsettlingly inviting manner. If someone truly lived there, wouldn't they keep the doors shut? Then again, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. If the occupant lived alone on a deserted island, why would they need doors at all? Still, you couldn't shake the unease that settled in your gut.

Your gaze wandered to the palace's sides, where stained-glass windows adorned the walls. The pieces shimmered with hues of pink, purple, and golden yellow, depicting intricate imagery. The images felt deliberate, almost like warnings.

A hush had fallen over the crew, everyone too awestruck to speak until someone hesitantly asked, "Should we go in?"

"What if someone lives there?" Another crewmate countered. "You wouldn't want someone barging into your home, right?"

"Look at the place." A third voice chimed in. "The doors are wide open. If there was anything worth taking, previous travelers probably already took it. And those vines? No way someone lives here."

The rest of the crew turned to Eurylochus, awaiting his command. He exhaled, then spoke.

"We should announce ourselves. If we're lucky, whoever is here—if anyone at all—is generous and might offer aid. Still, keep your guard up. Doesn't matter what we encounter."

You had stopped listening. Your eyes were locked on one of the stained-glass windows again.

There.

For just a split second, you caught movement—a flash of a face peeking out. Wide eyes stared back at you, round with curiosity... or was it fear? You weren't sure. Whoever they were, they ducked away before you could get a better look.

"Hey!" You caught the attention of the men. "There's someone in there. I think it was a kid."

The confirmation of life inside made everyone proceed with far more caution than before. You all ascended the stairs. Just as you reached the entrance, a woman appeared out of nowhere—like a lioness concealed within the tall grass, waiting to strike.

"Hello." She greeted, her voice smooth and unhurried.

The men in the front instinctively unsheathed their swords, pointing them directly at her. Yet, she did not flinch. She did not startle. She did not react at all. She merely stood there, unmoving, as if entirely unbothered by the threat before her. She stood exactly as she had appeared, watching them with a quiet amusement. Eventually, she arched a brow and, with nothing more than two fingers, pushed Eurylochus' blade aside. The sheer confidence of the gesture sent a chill through you.

Despite the intimidating sight of a group of armed men invading her home, she smiled and gestured toward the palace's interior.

"Why don't you come in?"

No one moved.

She let out a small chuckle and brought a hand to her chest. "Ah, but where are my manners?" Her voice dripped with warmth, rich and inviting. "My name is Circe." A pause, calculated. Then another smile. "Now, won't you come in? It's not often we get visitors."

Her smile was warm, her charm effortless. The men around you—hardened warriors who had endured battle, hunger, and death—visibly relaxed. Even those who had moments ago held their weapons at the ready now lowered them slightly, enchanted by the way she spoke, the effortless grace of her presence.

"Especially not ones so... strong and smart."

That was when you knew something was wrong. Were the men before her strong? Sure. Smart? Doubtful.

"You must be so tired. Why don't you step inside and rest your feet for a while? How long have you been traveling?"

The men around you practically salivated at the sight of her, enthralled by her presence. Her words only fueled their growing infatuation. You weren't jealous, obviously. You preferred to be seen as an equal rather than a conquest. But still... your ego felt just a little bruised.

"I'll serve you all something to eat." Circe continued. "Some of you look like you haven't eaten in ages."

Her tone carried a theatrical exaggeration, as though she were performing, yet at the mention of food, your stomach let out a loud growl. When had you last had a proper meal? The last thing you could remember eating was probably floating at the bottom of the ocean by now, an unfortunate casualty of seasickness.

Circe's gaze swept over the crew, sharp and assessing, like a predator selecting its prey. When her eyes landed on you, they lingered a second longer than on the others. Her head tilted slightly, brows knitting together in brief contemplation before she slipped back into her act.

"Does pottage sound good?"

The men nodded eagerly, as if entranced. And, truthfully, you weren't far behind. Hunger had made its home in your gut, and it was louder than reason. Circe didn't even wait for an answer—she simply turned and strode inside, fully confident that you would follow. And she was right. She had them wrapped around her finger, and she knew it. A smug smile played on her lips, deceptively warm.

One by one, the men filed into Circe's palace without hesitation.

Just as you were about to follow, a firm hand gripped your wrist. You turned to find Eurylochus holding you back.

"We shouldn't." His voice was low, tense.

"Eury, I know what you're going to say." You sighed. "But wouldn't it be nice to stop, just for a moment? When was the last time you had a warm, filling meal?" Oh how you missed the moments of silence and calm, of you just being able to exist without having to worry about being hunted down by something.

He didn't answer.

"She's lying." He finally muttered. "What if she's dangerous?"

You gave him a pointed look. "We have our weapons. We outnumber her. If she tries anything, we'll take her down."

Eurylochus remained unconvinced.

You exhaled sharply. "Look, we'll eat, and then we'll go back to tell the rest of the crew. It's just a meal, Eury."

Still, he shook his head.

"Well," You said, pulling your hand free. "I'll be waiting for you when you come in starving."

"And I'll be waiting here when you come running for backup."

You smirked. "I'll be ready to say 'I told you so.'"

"So will I."

For the briefest moment, the tension eased between you, a sliver of banter cutting through the unease. But as you turned and stepped toward the palace, Eurylochus remained where he was, his grip tightening around his sword.

Something about this—about her—he couldn't shake.

And neither, deep down, could you.

"Your sword, dear."

Circe's voice startled you. Did she always appear out of nowhere, or were you just getting sloppy? She stood there, a smile gracing her lips—polished, practiced. It looked genuine, but you knew better. Her golden eyes flickered toward a pile of discarded swords and dented chest plates near the door. The sight made your stomach churn. Gods, the sheer humiliation of those men.

You raised a brow at her request. "Why?"

Your gaze searched her face for any hint of an ulterior motive. Was it the exhaustion weighing on you, the gnawing hunger, or was she simply that good at deception? You knew there was something behind this—you just couldn't see what.

"Well, it's not very nice to bring weapons to someone's table, now, is it?" She said lightly.

You supposed, in a way, she was right. But something about this felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Still, against your better judgment, against every instinct screaming at you to hold on, you let go. When did she take it? Did you give it to her willingly, or had she plucked it from your grasp like a mother stealing a toy from a child? Either way, you were unarmed now, and it left you feeling stripped, exposed. A warrior without a weapon was like a dog without its tail—disoriented, incomplete.

"Very well." Circe murmured. A gentle hand pressed against your back, nudging you forward. It was warm. Too warm.

The deeper you walked into the palace, the more you realized she wasn't leading you to the others. She was taking you somewhere else. If you weren't so preoccupied with the rising panic clawing at your throat, you might have taken a moment to appreciate the palace itself—the way the polished marble floors gleamed like still water, the golden candlelight flickering along the carved walls, the faint scent of lavender and something unplaceable, maybe honey.

You swallowed hard, regret creeping up your spine. Maybe you should have listened to your brother. You cursed yourself—and your stubbornness.

You mustered the courage to ask. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe, dear."

You frowned. "I was already safe."

"No need for that, dear." The nickname was beginning to get on your nerves. "You're safe now."

"...What are you talking about?" Your brows knit together. You genuinely didn't understand. Did she think you were in danger? If so, why had she led the men inside? What was she planning to do with them?

"Let's get you some new clothes. How does that sound?" She changed the subject so abruptly it nearly gave you whiplash.

You glanced down at yourself, momentarily thrown. Was she insulting your fashion sense? Sure, your clothes had seen better days—especially after everything you had endured these past few days—but they weren't that bad... right? And why were you worrying about what this strange woman thought about how you looked when you were clearly being kidnapped?

You reached the heart of the palace—a grand, open courtyard where the sun poured in like liquid gold. The space was enclosed on all sides, yet the air felt fresh, alive. At the center stood a magnificent tree, its thick roots twisting through the ground like ancient veins. A circular pool of crystal-clear water lay at its base, bordered by smooth stones arranged in a pattern that invited skipping across them. The entire place had an ethereal beauty to it, as though it existed outside of time itself.

It took you a moment to realize you weren't alone. Nymphs moved about the courtyard, some tending to tasks, others engaged in quiet conversation. As soon as they noticed Circe leading you in, all eyes turned to you. Heat crept up your neck at the sudden attention, and you had to fight the urge to shrink back. High up in the tree, a smaller figure perched on a branch— you recognized her as being the same one who had been watching you from the window earlier. She hesitated for a moment, then, recognizing that you were with Circe, broke into a beaming smile and waved enthusiastically. The other nymphs followed suit, offering subtle nods or small waves. You hesitated, then, before you could stop yourself, you lifted a hand in return. You cursed yourself for it.

A sudden nudge at your lower back jolted you from your thoughts. You turned, prepared to snap at Circe—but she wasn't the culprit.

It was a lion.

A lion.

A lion?

You blinked. Then did a double take. A LION?!

You stumbled back, heart lurching into your throat. The beast simply stared at you, unbothered, as though waiting for you to process what was happening. Your pulse thundered in your ears. Circe chuckled, reaching out to scratch behind its ear like one would a common house cat.

"It's alright." She said, amusement dancing in her tone. "They don't bite."

Excuse me—they?! As in multiple?!

Your concern skyrocketed.

The lion nudged your hand again, a soft, deliberate gesture, as if reassuring you it meant no harm. You flinched, but when it repeated the motion, something in yousettled. Hesitantly, you let your fingers brush through its thick mane, then slowly scratched behind its ear. You had done the same to Argos back home, and he had loved it. Maybe lions weren't so different?

The beast purred under your touch—purred.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. It was... oddly therapeutic.

"Why is he so calm?" You asked, still marveling at the sensation of its fur beneath your fingers.

Circe smirked. "You ask a lot of questions, dear."

You scowled. "You don't give many answers, dear." You shot back, mimicking her tone.

She let out a short laugh—a single, amused "ha!"—before replying, "They get used to being here after some years."

You weren't sure what that meant. And you weren't sure you wanted to know.

A nymph approached at Circe's beckoning. "Take our guest to freshen up." she instructed.

You hesitated but ultimately complied, though a pit of apprehension still sat heavy in your stomach.

"You'll fit right in," Circe mused as you walked away. Her voice was smooth, dripping with certainty. "Don't worry, dear. Circe's got you."

──────🐷──────

Eurylochus ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. What he had seen had shaken him to his core. Never before had he witnessed such a thing. The grotesque transformation, the eerie silence that followed—it all gnawed at his mind. He was not just disturbed, but deeply unsettled, and above all, worried. Worried for those men, but more importantly, for you. Where had that woman led you? Why weren't you with the rest of the crew? Had she prepared a worse fate for you? He had to get help.

Before he could fully reach the remaining half of the crew, he heard someone announce his arrival before he could even catch his breath.

"Captain! He's back!"

Eurylochus finally emerged from the oppressive grip of the forest and stepped onto the beach, feeling the coarse grains of sand stick to his worn footwear. He had never been more relieved to feel solid ground beneath him. Odysseus turned to him, his wounds now crudely patched up—likely Polites' doing. The moment he saw how shaken his second-in-command was, his brows furrowed with concern, and he strode toward him.

"Eurylochus, why are you back so soon?"

Eurylochus tried to catch his breath, his chest heaving, words failing him. Odysseus, growing impatient, glanced past him, expecting the rest of the crew to follow. But they didn't. His stomach twisted as his eyes darted between the trees, searching desperately for you. His mind raced, conjuring a thousand horrific possibilities.

"Eurylochus," He repeated, voice dropping to a near-growl. "where's my sister?"

The man stayed silent. He looked anywhere but at Odysseus, his lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came. His throat tightened, unable to voice anything that could ease his captain's nerves.

"I—" The rest of the words died in his throat.

Odysseus' expression darkened. His eyes grew cold, shoulders tensed, and when he spoke again, his voice was sharp as a blade. "Where the fuck is my sister, Eurylochus?"

Before Eurylochus could react, Odysseus lunged forward, grabbing him by his chiton and yanking him close, his grip tight and unyielding. Fury burned in his eyes, his breathing harsh and uneven. Before things could escalate further, Polites stepped between them, forcefully prying Odysseus away.

"Let him speak." Polites urged, motioning for Eurylochus to explain.

Eurylochus swallowed hard, steadying himself. His hands trembled as he spoke. "We found a palace in the middle of the forest. It looked abandoned, so we went to investigate. Then, out of nowhere, a woman appeared. She had the men in just two words."

"What?" Odysseus' patience wore thin. "A woman?"

"Yes," Eurylochus said. "She offered us food and shelter if we just stepped inside. The others accepted without question. I was the only one who stayed outside."

Odysseus exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple furiously. "Of course they would."

"What about [Name]?" Polites asked, concern laced in his voice.

"She went in. Hunger was too heavy—her judgment clouded."

"And you let her go?" Odysseus snapped.

"She can make her own decisions."

"Not when they could kill her!"

The tension crackled between them. Just as another fight threatened to break out, Polites quickly redirected the conversation. "What happened next?"

"I was lucky enough to glimpse them through a window." Eurylochus continued, his voice quickening. "When they finally ate, it was too late. Their bodies convulsed, their screams twisted into something inhuman. They sprouted snouts, tails—" His breath hitched as the memory flashed through his mind. "She turned them into pigs."

Odysseus stood frozen, his jaw clenched. The weight of those words settled over them like a curse.

"The worst part?" Eurylochus swallowed hard, his hands balling into fists. "It wasn't quick. It was slow. It looked painful. I can still hear their screams—cut off as they turned into squeals. She was torturing them."

Odysseus started to ask a question, but Eurylochus cut him off, knowing exactly what he was about to ask. "I don't know where she took [Name]. She wasn't with them when it happened."

Silence stretched between them. Odysseus' face darkened further, his expression turning so cold that, despite the scorching sun, it sent a chill through the air. But he didn't lash out. He didn't waste time with anger—he couldn't afford to. The clock was already ticking, and time was running out for his men—and for you.

"We need to go save them," he said, resolute.

"No, we don't! Not yet."

Odysseus turned on Eurylochus with a look of pure incredulity, as if he had just uttered the most offensive thing imaginable. "What?"

"You need a plan," Eurylochus insisted. "She's cunning and powerful. A witch. You can't just storm in there and demand she undo what she's done. Every time we act without thinking, we lose more than we gain."

That struck a nerve. Odysseus' pride bristled at the implication, and Polites looked visibly unsettled. Their failures, their losses—they were piling up.

Still, Odysseus shook his head. "I have to try."

"Captain—"

Odysseus clenched his fists, inhaling sharply before muttering, "If it were you in danger, there's no length I wouldn't go to save you. I can only hope you'd do the same."

Eurylochus' mouth went dry. He looked away, hesitant.

"It'll be a game of wits," he finally said. "And you'll have to play."

"I know."

And so, with desperation in his heart, Odysseus devised a plan—probably the messiest, most reckless one he had ever conceived. He prayed it would be enough. He had no time to waste.

What he didn't account for, however, was that a certain god was watching, waiting eagerly to intervene. Not out of kindness, but for his own amusement. Either way, it would serve Odysseus well...

. Taglist: @permanently-nothere @lemonberryberry @supernatural-bangtanboys @doodle-with-rhy @yonkersworld @pookiezme @keikeiluvyou

#epic the musical x reader #epic x reader #greek mythology x reader #platonic x reader

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butmakeitgayblog · 2 months ago

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makes me wonder which of your lexas would do pilates? i'm guessing CI lexa?

CI Lexa for sure, buuut not until a little later in life. When she's younger, like 17-40, she does more intense bootcamp style workouts. The kinds Clarke made the mistake only once of ever joining in on. Never again. But around 35 she starts to diversify her athletics. Gets bored of the harsh routine and moves on. She tries her hand at pole dancing workouts (yes, really) but eventually lands on pilates because it still kicks her ass and she still stays so toned Clarke could easily bounce a quarter (or eat her dessert 👀) off her asscheeks, and also it just all feels less aggressive, which is what she wants at that time of life. To just enjoy her routine and the tranquility and chaos of life with her idiot wife 💕

Professor Elbow Patches has tried it, Did Not Care For It, and never returned. She's a gangly little nerd who only happens to have even minor biceps (lickable forearms tho) and gazelle like thighs due to carrying very heavy bags of various art supplies (and sometimes the occasional overly arthritic saint bernard)

MBFW is all about the pilates. Pilates, yoga, jogging, the occasional boxing class if she's feeling spicy. She's not exactly regimented in it, but she does it often enough to keep herself toned and have the excuse to eat pizza a few times a month without internally feeling like she makes nothing but poor choices. The irony...

Obviously Medusa Lexa has never heard of anything called pilates, but oh. Oh she does not need it. See the thing is, Medi Lexa lives in cycles of the island. In the few weeks leading up to winter, she purposefully puts on a little bit of fat. Lets her natural curves round out into flared hips and fuller breasts. Lets the lines of her abs (and the V, bless Athena) go for a softer belly and extra warmth to carry her through the cold months of rain and icy waves.

But when spring rolls around? Climbing and felling trees, digging and tilling the land for fresh harvests. Chopping and hauling wood for repairs to anything that was damaged in the winter storms. Swimming constantly to set up her fishing nets and bring in fresh catches. Every last ounce of that extra fat melts away within weeks to be replaced defined little pops of muscle.

And Clarke... Well Clarke has not had the good fortune to get her hands on Summer Medi quite yet.

#anon #cruel intentions au #mbfw #prof/stu au #medusa au

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creations-by-chaosfay · 1 year ago

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Emergency Roof Repair and Storm Cleanup Commissions

As mentioned in previous posts and pinned @anotherdayforchaosfay , we have just been through a natural disaster. Please read the pinned post on that blog. Updates will be added once we get outside and photograph the damage for our insurance claim.

I have opened commissions three months earlier than planned because we need to raise money to cover our insurance deductible as well as hiring someone to remove the tree from our roof and yard. The tree is owned by a lazy landlordlord who owns the property next door. We have told him repeatedly it needs to be trimmed or there will be damage. His property got a quick install sunroof.

I have four slots available across the board and prices start at $150 USD.

I have made the option of commissioning me for a quilt available. Three finished quilt tops are listed as commissions because they're ready for handquilting. Several people have inquired about one of the tops, so now's your chance to have it done sooner than later.

If you can do only a partial payment right now, DM me. I'll write up a contract for payments, and will require 50% upfront and weekly/monthly installs after that. You will then receive an invoice.

Commissions will begin immediately because we now have power.

I will close commissions when all slots are filled or June 1st, 2024. Whichever happens first (hopefully the former). If slots are filled, I will reopen them again after I finish all the commissions. I work fast and may complete six quilts netween now and then.

Donations are accepted,and there are four listings available in my shop with the option to pay more than my asking price (if you add an extra zero, I may very well cry).

Samples of my work below as well as in my gallery.

#quilt #sewing #commissions open #handmade #emergency funds #we may need to replace the roof but need $1000 to cover the deductible.#i was hoping for this not to happen so i could focus on using my sales and commissions to oay off debts. last year it was used to #pay my husband's medical bills. now we to focus on dealing with the roof and possibly putting things in storage because of the #roof repairs or new roof. and yeah we may hand the bill to that landlord to cover because he refused to trim the trees. the hawthorn #is MASSIVE and more than half hangs over our side of the property line. if he had trimmed it this would not have happened.#it feels nice knowing he may have to replace the vacant house or sell off the property. the half dozen othe overgrown and dead #trees have also made gravity deposits on the vacant house snd the yard on the other side of the property.#PLEASE REBLOG!!!!!!!#liking this means NO ONE BUT YOU WILL SEE IT. for posts to be seen or shared you have to REBLOG THEM.#please share this on your other social media!!!! i have only tumblr.

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mybelovedwoo · 5 months ago

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Long Journey - Chapter 14: Promises

Life hurts a lot, that's just how it is. At least that is what Destiny thought, living a life where living hurts more than dying. But one day everything changes when an unexpected guest appears. What does this long journey hide behind? Will it be worth it to be alive again?

"Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends!"

ateez pirate au, fluff, angst, smut

??? x named reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood injuries, trauma, smut, sa, pa, abuse

← previous | next → | masterlist

The storm had finally subsided, leaving the ship battered but still afloat. The crew worked tirelessly to repair the damage, their spirits buoyed by their victory over Captain Black. Hongjoong had steered them to the nearest port—a small, hidden cove known only to the most seasoned sailors.

Destiny stood on deck, watching as the port came into view. The rugged cliffs and dense foliage provided natural camouflage, making it an ideal hiding spot. She felt a mixture of relief and anticipation. They would be safe here, at least for a while, and she could finally get a chance to rest.

"Everyone, gather your belongings. We'll be staying here for a few days to make repairs and resupply," Hongjoong announced, his voice carrying across the deck. "Yeosang, Jongho, you're in charge of securing provisions. Mingi, Yunho, check the hull and assess the damage."

Destiny watched as the crew sprang into action. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Seonghwa standing beside her.

"You did well out there," he said, his voice warm with pride.

"Thanks," she replied, feeling a flush of gratitude. "I couldn't have done it without all of you."

Seonghwa nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Stay sharp. We don't know who else might be lurking around here."

Destiny nodded, appreciating his vigilance. As the ship docked, the crew disembarked, their boots crunching on the rocky shore. The port was a small but bustling place, with a handful of other ships moored nearby. Sailors moved about, unloading cargo and making repairs, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

San approached Destiny, his arm still in a sling from the injury he sustained during the fight with Black. "How are you holding up?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"I'm okay," she replied, giving him a reassuring smile. "How's the arm?"

"It'll heal," he said, brushing off her concern. "But I wanted to talk to you about something."

She nodded, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

San glanced around, ensuring they were alone. "Hongjoong told me about a possible lead on another part of the map. It's risky, but it might be our best shot at finding El Dorado."

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of the legendary city. "Where is it?"

"There's a contact in this port who might have information. Hongjoong wants to meet him tonight," San explained. "But there's a catch. This contact isn't exactly trustworthy."

Destiny took a deep breath, considering the implications. "So we're walking into another potential trap."

"Yes," San admitted, "but we don't have much choice. We need that map."

Destiny felt a surge of determination. "Then we'll do whatever it takes."

San smiled, admiration shining in his eyes. "I knew you'd say that."

That evening, they made their way to a nearby inn, a quaint establishment nestled between towering palm trees and overlooking the serene cove. The inn was modest but well-kept, with warm light spilling from the windows and the sound of laughter and music drifting from within.

The crew gathered in the common room, a cozy space filled with wooden tables and chairs, a crackling fireplace in the corner. The innkeeper, a kindly woman with silver hair and a warm smile, greeted them and showed them to their rooms.

"Every male crewmember will share their rooms," Hongjoong instructed, glancing around at his men. "Two and two. Destiny, you'll have a room to yourself."

Destiny nodded, understanding the practicality of the arrangement. She followed the innkeeper up a narrow staircase, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. The room she was given was small but comfortable, with a single bed, a wooden dresser, and a window that offered a view of the cove.

She set her belongings down and sighed, feeling the weight of the past days lifting slightly. Despite the isolation of being the only girl in the crew, she felt a sense of peace. The soft murmur of the sea outside her window was soothing, and for the first time in a while, she felt safe.

As she prepared for bed, her thoughts wandered to the upcoming meeting with Rook. The promise of another piece of the map was tantalizing, but the risk was undeniable. She knew they couldn't let their guard down, not even for a moment.

Downstairs, the common room buzzed with activity. The crew mingled with other sailors, sharing stories and exchanging news. San and Seonghwa sat together, discussing their plans for the next day.

"I hope this lead is worth it," Seonghwa said, his tone cautious.

"It has to be," San replied. "We're running out of time and options."

Hongjoong, seated at a nearby table, overheard their conversation. "We'll take every precaution," he assured them. "But we need to be ready for any eventuality. As always."

The next morning, Destiny woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the window. She stretched, feeling the stiffness in her muscles from the previous day's exertions. After a quick wash and a change of clothes, she headed downstairs to join the crew for breakfast.

The common room was already bustling with activity. The smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee filled the air, and the crew sat around a large table, eating and talking in hushed tones.

"Morning, Destiny," Wooyoung greeted her with a cheerful grin. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, better than I have in days," she replied, taking a seat beside him.

Hongjoong entered the room, his expression serious. "We'll meet Rook at noon. Until then, I want everyone to be ready. This port may seem peaceful, but we can't let our guard down."

The crew nodded in agreement, their faces set with determination. They knew the importance of the task ahead and were prepared to face whatever challenges came their way.

As they finished breakfast, Destiny found herself drawn into the routines of her crewmates once more. She assisted Yeosang and Jongho with securing additional provisions, eager to learn more about their strategic methods and practical approaches.

"Alright, Destiny," Yeosang said, handing her a list of supplies. "We need to stock up on fresh water, food, and some basic medical supplies. Jongho and I will handle the negotiations with the merchants. Your job is to check the quality and make sure we're not getting swindled."

Destiny nodded, taking the list. "Got it. Let's do this."

They made their way to the bustling market, a lively place filled with vendors selling everything from exotic fruits to intricate textiles. The air was thick with the scent of spices and the sound of haggling voices. It was smaller than the previous ones she had seen before, but still, it felt interesting to her every time.

"Stay close and keep your wits about you," Jongho advised as they wove through the crowd. "Ports like this can be full of thieves and swindlers."

Destiny nodded, her eyes scanning the market. She noticed how Yeosang and Jongho moved with confidence, their eyes always alert. She admired their expertise and hoped to learn as much as she could from them.

At the first stall, they examined barrels of fresh water. Destiny took a sample, checking for clarity and taste. "This one's good," she said, nodding to Yeosang.

"Great," Yeosang replied, turning to the merchant to finalize the purchase. "We'll take four barrels."

Next, they moved to a stall selling fruits and vegetables. Destiny inspected the produce, ensuring it was fresh and free of any signs of spoilage. She selected a variety of items, mindful of the crew's nutritional needs.

As they continued, Destiny couldn't help but be impressed by Yeosang and Jongho's bargaining skills. They negotiated fair prices, never settling for less than what they needed. Destiny took mental notes, absorbing their techniques.

"How do you guys do it?" she asked as they moved to the next stall. "You make it look so easy."

Yeosang chuckled. "Experience, mostly. You learn to read people, understand their motives. And never show all your cards at once."

Jongho nodded in agreement. "Confidence is key. If they think you're uncertain, they'll try to take advantage."

Destiny smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment as they finished their shopping. She had learned a lot in just a few hours and felt more integrated into the crew's dynamics.

Back at the ship, they unloaded the provisions, working together with practiced efficiency. Destiny felt a sense of pride in contributing to the crew's well-being.

"Nice work, Destiny," Jongho said, clapping her on the back. "You're a natural."

"Thanks," she replied, beaming. "I had good teachers."

As the crew walked through the bustling port town to the agreed-upon meeting place, Destiny couldn't help but feel the weight of their mission. They arrived at a secluded tavern on the edge of town, its dimly lit interior filled with shadows and whispers.

Hongjoong led them to a back room where a hooded figure waited. "Rook," he said, nodding in greeting. Rook was a mysterious figure known for his vast knowledge and network of informants.

Rook looked up, his eyes glinting in the low light. "Captain Hongjoong," he replied, his voice smooth and low. "I hear you're looking for something... valuable."

Hongjoong motioned for the crew to sit. "We need the next part of the map to El Dorado. Do you have it?"

Rook leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Information comes at a price, Captain. What are you willing to offer?"

Hongjoong didn't miss a beat. "We have gold, weapons, whatever you need. But this map is crucial."

Rook studied them for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I have what you seek. But be warned, the path ahead is fraught with danger."

He pulled out a parchment and unrolled it on the table. The crew leaned in, studying the intricate details. Rook pointed to a location marked with a red X. "This is where you'll find the next clue. But it's guarded by a formidable adversary."

Destiny felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Thank you, Rook," Hongjoong said, rolling up the map. "We'll be on our way."

As they left the tavern, Destiny glanced back at Rook, who gave her a knowing look. She couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again. The crew walked in silence, each lost in their thoughts. The air was thick with a sense of unease.

Once they were back at the inn, Jongho broke the silence. "It was too easy," he said, his brow furrowed. "Rook didn't even haggle. Just handed over the map."

Yeosang nodded in agreement. "I've dealt with Rook before. He's never been one to part with information without a hefty price. Something doesn't add up."

Hongjoong laid the map out on the table, studying it intently. "You're right. We need to be cautious. This could be a trap."

Destiny felt a pang of anxiety. "What if it is? What if he's leading us into danger?"

San placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We've faced danger before. We'll face it again. Together."

Hongjoong looked up, his eyes steely with determination. "We'll proceed with caution. We'll scout the area before making any moves. We can't afford to be careless."

Mingi, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "What if Rook's playing both sides? He could be working with someone else, feeding us false information."

Hongjoong considered this. "It's possible. But we don't have much of a choice. This map is the only lead we have. We just need to be prepared for anything."

The crew nodded, the tension easing slightly as they formulated their plan. They would move forward, but with their eyes wide open.

Later that night, as they gathered in the common room for dinner, the mood was somber but resolute. They had faced countless challenges together, and this would be no different. They would trust in each other and their abilities.

Destiny found herself sitting next to Wooyoung, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. "What do you think, Wooyoung?" she asked, hoping for some of his usual levity.

He gave her a small smile. "I think we've got our work cut out for us. But I also think we're up to the task. We've got the best crew out there."

His words brought a sense of comfort. Destiny looked around the table at her crewmates, feeling a surge of gratitude. They were more than just a crew; they were her family.

As they finished their meal, Hongjoong stood up, his expression serious. "Get some rest, everyone. We have a long journey ahead of us. We leave at dawn."

Destiny felt restless, her thoughts swirling. She needed some fresh air to clear her mind. Silently, she slipped out of the inn, stepping into the cool night air. The town was quiet, the only sounds the distant lapping of waves and the occasional call of a seabird.

She walked aimlessly for a while, her mind replaying the events of the day. The ease with which Rook had handed over the map troubled her deeply. She wondered if they were walking into a trap, and if so, how they would manage to survive it.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice San following her until he called her name softly. "Destiny."

Startled, she turned to see him standing a few paces behind, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "San," she breathed, trying to steady her racing heart. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't want you to be alone out here. It's not safe, especially with everything that's going on."

She managed a small smile, appreciating his concern. "I just needed to clear my head. Everything feels so overwhelming."

San nodded, falling into step beside her as they walked along the deserted street. "I understand. It's been a lot for all of us."

They walked in silence for a while, the cool breeze a welcome balm to their troubled minds. Eventually, they found a small bench overlooking the harbor and sat down. The moonlight danced on the water's surface, casting a serene glow over the scene.

San broke the silence, his voice gentle. "What's really bothering you, Destiny?"

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's just...everything. Rook handing over the map so easily, the constant danger we're in, and...well, us."

San's gaze softened. "Us?"

She nodded, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "Yes, us. I've never felt this way before, and it's confusing. Especially now, when there's so much at stake."

San reached out, taking her hand in his. "Destiny, I know it's a lot. But you don't have to figure it all out right now. You said it, we'll take it one step at a time, right?"

His words brought a sense of comfort she hadn't realized she needed. She squeezed his hand, grateful for his presence. "Thank you, San. For everything."

He smiled, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Always."

They sat there for a while longer, watching the waves and finding solace in each other's company. Eventually, the fatigue of the day began to catch up with them, and they headed back to the inn.

As they reached the door, San stopped and looked at her. "Promise me you'll get some rest tonight."

Destiny nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I promise."

San hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. It was a brief, tender gesture, but it made her heart skip a beat. He pulled back, his expression soft and affectionate.

"Goodnight, Destiny," he said quietly.

She touched her cheek, feeling the warmth linger. "Goodnight, San."

With a final, shared look of understanding, they parted ways, each retreating to their respective rooms. Destiny lay in her bed, the touch of San's kiss still fresh in her mind, and felt a sense of calm she hadn't experienced in days.

taglist: @dinossaurz @tiredlittlevirgo @everythingboutkpop @abibliolife @k-zuzu @ateezswonderland

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808airsoftbros · 1 year ago

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Missing 411 (Female Idols)

Author: This special chapter is also posted on my wattpad and decided to post it here too to help revive this dead Tumblr account. Also if you want to see more check out the Masterlist.

Y/N's POV

It's been ten years since that stormy night... Where everything went to hell... Awakened something that was never supposed to be in this world. What is it? We will never truly know and perhaps it's for the best.

Now you all must be asking what I'm talking about. I don't know much since I'm a foreign government agency from America to help with the Korean National Police Agency.

All these accounts and stories are based on reports filed by the KNPA, witnesses, and survivors of their encounters with this... thing.

I cannot disclose everything as this case is classified and under investigation by the Republic of Korea National Military and the National Intelligence Service.

It all began ten years ago on August 19, 2019, when a massive typhoon struck the Korean peninsula turning Seoul into a rubble mess than ever in history.

Everything was in total devastation, small businesses, and homes were destroyed, and families pretty much lost everything so much so that even K-pop idols began lending a hand, and those who were on tour or elsewhere donated money.

I will start with the first case... The unsolved case of the disappearance of Jennie Kim and Jeon Jungkook...

Flashback

Date: August 21, 2019 Location: Seoul, South Korea

Jisoo's POV

It's been two days since the massive typhoon struck the city of Seoul, I was in the safety of the dorm when it struck and thankfully nothing was damaged or lost but the same cannot be said for the unlucky ones.

Some were caught in a bad time and the street vendor's property has been damaged beyond repair including those I always visit.

"I can't believe mother nature is capable of such devastation..." I muttered looking at the rubble of fallen trees, flipped cars, and broken street lamps.

"Well, that's nature for you, come on, those people need all the help they can get," Chaeyoung replied and I nodded.

Walking around the streets, determined to help those in need as much as possible, other idols have joined us in our efforts helping where they can, and offering assistance to the rescue operatives.

The streets were flooded in some areas, especially the underground parking lots, the sewer systems were overflowed and clogged causing the sewages to flood the streets.

Everyone worked hard to guide the survivors to shelter camps to tend to the wounded and sick. My arms and legs ached like hell but if it's for the people, I must keep going.

"Jake said this is all we can do for now until firefighters and Coast Guard crews clear up the debris in the heavily impacted parts, I'd say we take a break," I explained to the girls and they nodded.

As we sat down under the shelter camp, we saw BTS covered in mud and sweat approaching, they all looked equally exhausted and worn out.

"Ah, I see you boys managed to make it, I thought you all were on a tour," I greeted and Namjoon chuckled.

"Hey, this city is our home, we can't just simply watch by as the people suffer. We lend our hand wherever we can," Namjoon replied.

"Right, there are so many children lost from their parents, I heard some of them didn't make it out," Jennie mentioned and he sighed.

"Real shame, I pity those poor souls, nobody could've expected a typhoon like this, throughout my years, I have never seen anything like this," Jungkook commented.

As the boys joined us under the tent, Taehyung was kind enough to give us water to quench our thirst, and I couldn't feel more relief as I sipped down the water.

Suddenly, Jungkok and Jennie stood up but before they could walk away from the tent I stopped them.

"Hey, where are you two going?" I asked curiously.

"I overheard there are some cabins in the woods, possible someone could've been sheltering there during the storm and will see if we can help or not," Jungkook answered and I nodded.

"Alright, be safe out there," I warned them and they nodded.

"Don't worry Jichu, we're always careful~," Jennie assured and walked away with him.

Though I had a bad feeling about it, I shrugged it off as I didn't have much time to think about it as the fire chief called us over requesting our assistance with the water pumps.

In the next several hours as the sun was starting to set and dusk was approaching, however, Jennie and Jungkook had yet to return.

"Hey, you heard from Kookie any chance?" I asked Jin and he shrugged.

"No idea, no call on the radio or anything, I was about to ask you," Jin answered unsurely and I was growing concerned.

Deciding to investigate the cabins as a group, we went to their last known location which is the cabins in the woods, we kept our guard up for any wild animals that may loom in the area, and as we reached the cabins, I felt dread as the cabins were dead quiet.

Looking around, there was no sign of any wild animals or birds in the trees anywhere and the area wasn't as damaged as the rest of the forest.

"I don't like the looks of this..." Suga commented.

"Yeah, it's too quiet for my liking, I feel like something is gonna pounce on us at any second," Hoseok replied.

"Let's make this fast and find those two before it gets dark," Namjoon said and we agreed.

Immediately, we began searching the cabins and the surrounding nature but as time went on, we couldn't find a single trace of them anywhere or signs of life.

I was now growing even more worried as they somehow disappeared like they never existed... Until...

"Hey, I think I found something!" Lisa called out and we went up to her.

"What is it?" I asked.

Lisa showed us Jennie's phone and wallet along with Jungkook's wallet containing his bank cards and IDs inside one of the bedrooms in the cabin.

"Is there anything else?" I asked and she shook her head.

"Nope, not any sign of footprints or traces, it's like they vanished like a ghost," She sighed and looked at the time it was getting dark.

"Will report this to the police when we get back, for now, there's nothing more we can do for them until morning, it's too dangerous to search at night," Namjoon explained and I felt devastated.

"W-We can't just abandon them, they're like family to us," I begged and he shook his head.

"I understand how you feel, Jisoo, and I feel the same way for Kookie but will be no good to anyone if we're attacked by predators," He replied in a sympathetic tone.

Reluctantly agreeing, I felt shameful and guilty as I felt like I had to abandon Jennie as she could be seriously injured or God knows what I knew Namjoon was right but it was my fault for letting them go in the first place.

"I should've stopped them..." I muttered to myself as we left the cabins.

Present

Y/N's POV

Since then, the group went to the nearby police station which was still intact, and reported a missing person case, a search was later held the next morning but despite their best efforts, no traces were ever found besides their wallets and Jennie's phone.

We couldn't turn it on as the screen was cracked and it was damaged but we did manage to extract the data but found nothing out of the ordinary.

The search went on for some time until...

Date: August 30, 2019 Location: Seoul, South Korea

Y/N's POV

Arriving in Korea at the airport, I was greeted by one of the agents of the NIS and he drove me over to the police station in Seoul.

"So, I was told I would be briefed on this investigation, what do we have?" I asked.

"Well, two idols vanished without a trace just a week ago when they were helping clean up the city after the typhoon hit, they went up to the cabin area in the forest but never returned and the group decided to investigate themselves to find nothing but few of their belongings," The agent explained and I nodded writing them down in my notepad.

"I see, what about the search party? Any news?" I asked and he nodded.

"After several days of searching, we did find their remains... It's quite a grizzly and disturbing sight, to say the least, and it's hard to describe it so it's better if you look at them yourself," He answered.

The rest of the drive was silent as we went into Seoul giving me the chance to look around at the devastation the typhoon had caused and it was surreal than the pictures on the news.

Once we finally made it to the station, I walked through the backdoor leading downstairs to the evidence lab, and I was led into the forensics lab.

One of the experts bowed before leading me into the lab, laying on the operation table were the bodies of Jeon Jungkook and Jennie Kim and my eyes widened as it looked like their souls were sucked out of them.

They were skinny to the bone, there was no blood within them, and they looked almost skeletal making this the most disturbing case I've ever worked in.

"What the hell happened to them...?" I asked shocked at the sight.

"We're not sure, we ran all the tests in the book but found nothing out of the ordinary or pointers of how they died, no wounds, scratches, nothing, just their souls sucked out dry," The expert explained grimly.

Meanwhile...

Jisoo's POV

I couldn't sleep well ever since Jennie's disappearance, we always missed her and it didn't help that the police already found her dead body not far from the cabins along with Jungkook.

YG and BigHit sent condolences letters to their families and the funerals were held as soon as the rubbles were cleared from parts of the city.

Their remains were cremated to ashes with Jennie to be sent home to New Zealand in her hometown and Jungkook to the family cemetery.

"O comforting One, compassionate One be with us all when we suffer loss and ache with the pain of grieving. Give us a glimpse of the way it will be when love will never be taken away, when life itself will not be diminished when all that we hold most precious will live and remain with us forever. Amen." The priest said his prayer as the urn of the ashes of Jungkook was slowly lowered into the hole dug before his gravestone.

The funeral was small only consisting of myself, Lisa, and Chaeyoung, along with BTS and Twice who had just returned from their tour, and of course Jungkook's family.

To this day, I still feel guilty as I could've stopped this all from happening, now two idols were lost to the Heavens, and everyone grieved their deaths.

Jin who would always boast about being flirty and ladies man was now all silent, I can tell the loss of what he considered a brother deeply affected him.

"T-Thank you for coming, Jihyo, I didn't think you'd show up," I thanked her and she nodded.

"Hey, this is more important than our idol lives, I knew them both and they were quite exceptional and talented individuals, it's a shame they went out like this," Jihyo replied and I sighed.

"Are you okay?" She asked conerningly.

"No, not really, I could've prevented this from happening, Jennie and Jungkook would still be alive if I hadn't stopped them from going to the woods alone... I'm such an idiot..." I grimly answered and shed a tear as the guilt became too much to bear.

Instead of an angry reaction, as I expected, Jihyo gave me a sympathetic look and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"It's not your fault, my dear, none of us expected anything like this would happen," She assured and I sighed.

"Speaking of which, they never disclosed their cause of death nobody knows what happened to them, they found no wounds or indication of how they died considering they were young and healthy at the time," I mentioned.

"Well, all we can do is leave it to the authorities to handle this, I am confident they will find a trail eventually and we can soon get to the bottom of this and hope Jennie and Jungkook will be the last victims of this mess," She explained and I nodded knowing she was right.

After the funeral was finished, we all left for our vehicles, our driver picked us up and drove us back to the YG building as we needed to discuss some things about our upcoming comeback.

We headed to the top floor of the building where YG's office was located and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" He called out and we opened the door.

"Please have a seat you three, we have urgent matters to discuss," He instructed and we sat down in front of him and he sighed.

"As you all may know, Jennie was found dead, now not only has this heavily saddened the Blinks and fans around the world, but it also hurts our business as our comeback is scheduled to release soon, and without Jennie to finish her lines, we might have to cancel it and start from scratch without her or one of you will have to take her place," He explained.

"Sir, are you going to find a trainee to debut and replace her...?" Chaeyoung asked and he shook his head.

"Not anytime soon, none of the trainees so far have the skills or talent or experience like hers to substitute her absence and this will surely tank the reviews and our income, that is why I'm asking you all what you wish to do at this time," YG explained and we pondered.

As we all discuss among ourselves how we're going to finish this comeback or if will just cancel it entirely, I cannot help but feel like I'm being watched, and when I glanced out the window my eyes widened as I saw... Jennie standing on a platform...

She was unrecognizable, her body was skinny to the bone, her eyes were white and her skin was pale like she was a ghost, and was staring directly at me.

"Jichu...? Are you okay?" Lisa asked waving her hand across my face snapping me out of my trance.

"H-Huh?" I stammered as I regained my senses and when I looked out the window all I saw was the cleaner wiping down the windows.

"Is there a problem, Miss Jisoo?" YG asked.

"N-No, sir, I'm fine... Just tired is all..." I nervously replied and he nodded.

"Alright, how about this? I'll leave you all to rest for the day, and by tomorrow you all can come into my office with your final decision, is that okay with you all?" YG asked and we nodded.

As we are dismissed from leaving the YG entertainment building, we head over to the dormitory to gather our thoughts and hopefully my sanity as I feel nothing but dread.

There is much pressure added to us now that Jennie is gone and Rose and Lisa were thinking about splitting the extra work evenly but that will be difficult as fans will feel disappointed about the comeback without her.

That night, my sleep was anything but peaceful, I woke up in a grassy land, and there in front of me was Jennie wearing a white dress and Jungkook wearing a black tuxedo. They were both warmly smiling as if nothing ever happened.

"K-Kookie? Jen? What are you two doing here?" I nervously asked.

"Hello, Jichu... We are waiting for you..." Jungkook spoke but his voice sounded off.

"We are waiting for you Jichu, join us... And you will be free of guilt..." Jennie spoke up.

Without warning, I woke up panting out of breath, I was covered in sweat trying to figure out what I just dreamt of but I didn't get a chance when I heard strange crackling noises like bones cracking.

I looked around, my stomach dropped seeing what appeared to be Jennie in that same white dress walking disfigured to the front entrance.

"J-Jennie... Is that you?" I softly called out as I got out of bed.

Quickly I got dressed in casual attire grabbed a black mask so nobody knows my identity and followed Jennie out of the dorm quietly without waking up Lisa and Chaeyoung.

I followed Jennie around the city which was strangely quiet and desolated as people are superstitious about walking at night, but I can't help wondering why Jennie was walking so awkwardly like some of her bones are broken or worn.

Eventually, she led me to what appeared to be an abandoned mine long forgotten to time.

"Why the hell is she going to a mine...?" I asked myself as I watched her from the distance in the bushes.

All of a sudden, the entrance of the mineshaft was glowing crimson red yet Jennie continued walking but she stopped right at the entrance and came out of what seemed to be what I describe as the gate to hell.

Coming out of the entrance was Jungkook in that same black tuxedo from my dream but his eyes were anything but normal as it was all white, he reached out his hand and Jennie took it before walking together through the mineshaft entrance.

"Dear Lord you are our shepherd and defender please protect me from all evil..." I prayed as I decided it was time to leave.

I continued repeating the prayer all the way back to the city and I saw some planks on the ground and decided to seal off the entrance to the best of my ability.

After the work was done, I ran the hell out of the forest as fast as I could until I reached the safety of the city and the dorm.

What I witness is just something I cannot explain nor could anyone and I do not want to go near that God forsaken mine ever again.

Present

Y/N's POV

And that is the end of the story of what the people and the authorities know... However, what Jisoo said in the interview isn't exactly clear and straight-up bullocks to most.

The military dispatched a company of soldiers to investigate the mine and sealed off the area with electric fences and barbed wire to keep everyone out... Or something in.

I don't know what the military is doing at those mineshafts to this day as the reports are all classified and they want nobody going in there.

Jennie and Jungkook were declared dead after their bodies were found but idols do report seeing them at night or in their dreams similar to Jisoo.

Sadly... Those two would not be the only missing victims...

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bigasswritingmagnet · 24 days ago

Text

Blood Will Out: Ch 34/40 ...Long May She Reign

Klaus left Castle Wulfenbach at the traditional two league distance, because there were still Torchmen flying in formation around the perimeter of the town, and went on foot. After much argument with Boris, Klaus agreed to a compromise: Klaus would go alone, taking the road to the Bone Gate, and in return for Boris not sending a squad to follow on his heels, he would take his greatsword with him.

The moment Klaus set foot over the two league line, a mechanical demon crash-landed beside him. Klaus stared down at the mangled collection of metal limbs, but the thing was not offline yet. With great difficulty, it jerked itself around so the head was pointed in his direction. It began to speak, muffled and scratchy, in a recorded voice.

“Thank you for shopping in Mechanicsb—Herr Baron!” the clank interrupted itself, the voice now clear and unmistakable. “Wonderful to see you! We appreciate your coming, but as you can see, we have the situation under control.”

“So I see,” Klaus said. “And you are sounding very...coherent.”

“The Heterodyne has made amazing progress on my repairs! I am almost fully function—” The lights in the machine’s eyes flickered and went out.

Klaus waited for fifteen seconds, but when the machine remained lifeless, he continued down the road. Three minutes later, another mechanical demon, this one wielding a blood-spattered, arrow-shaped sign that said Free beer!, floated gently down to hover over him.

“Oh do excuse me. A great many of my devices have been deactivated or damaged in the years I have been gone, for some reason.”

“The Doom Bell rang,” Klaus prompted, ignoring this.

“Quite so! The Heterodyne has been declared!”

“Saturnus does realize what he’s done, yes? There are no heirs to come after him. The entire town is going to be right back where it started in a few decades at the latest.”

“I’m sure Master Saturnus would be delighted to discuss it with you. He awaits you in the main square.”

Klaus took two steps and stopped.

“Master Saturnus?”

“Whoops, look at that, lost control of this one too, oh dear, there it goes—” The clank took off at top speed and smashed itself head first into a nearby tree.

Klaus walked faster.

There were no further interruptions from either the castle or the town’s defences. There was, to Klaus’ surprise, still some fighting going on, although the town’s walls were deserted, and the remaining enemy forces were either clanks or ragged, terrified foot soldiers.

As Klaus watched, one of these soldiers shakily raised his rifle, aiming for a bird with a blood-soaked, serrated beak that was swooping towards him. Before he could fire, a cage of bone snapped shut around him like a bear trap – and that was it.

Really, that was it. The bird veered off and flew away. The bone cage did not grow spikes, or shrink, or drag the soldier beneath the earth. Just as Klaus was trying to remember if there had ever been a Heterodyne with enough patience to find death by exposure entertaining, there was a thoomp, and a large umbrella popped out of the top of the cage. The man within cringed back, throwing his arms over his head.

The umbrella adjusted itself so the sun was no longer shining in the man’s eyes.

Klaus stopped walking. He looked around, peering to see past smoke and shattered machinery. He could see several more bone cages, all with inhabitants, all with strange alterations to ensure they would be reasonably comfortable. He even saw one had a small wall made of scapulas to keep the fire of a burning clank from spreading.

Klaus saw three men in the uniform of the Refuge of Storms running as fast as they could away from the town...and not, in any way, being pursued.

Klaus began to run.

He didn’t stop until he was at the gate, and even then, slowed only to a quick walk.

The entire town was in the streets. Everyone Klaus saw was in the throes of celebration, Jägers and monsters and humans alike. Some were making vague efforts to clean up the mess, but for the most part it was simply something for their hands to do. As Klaus made his way through the crowd, however, he did see a few young men and women curled up on the ground. All were whimpering some variation of ‘we’re dead we’re so dead she was the Heterodyne the whole time we’re so dead’.

Klaus could only assume this was a bad reaction to the Doom Bell’s effects.

Everyone noted his passing. A few drunken wags were bold enough to give some jeering toasts about not needing him anymore, but they were always quickly stifled.

Word of his arrival spread before him like fire before the wind, and when he reached Bill and Barry Square, Teodora and Saturnus were waiting for him, standing side by side at the foot of the statue of their sons.

Klaus noted the chair Saturnus was sitting in, the eight spider’s legs and the controls on each arm. It was not as refined as he would have expected from a spark of Saturnus’ caliber and experience, but perhaps that was the result of hands that no longer worked as smoothly as they once had. Regardless, it had clearly functioned well enough to allow Saturnus to navigate Castle Heterodyne.

“Good afternoon, Klaus,” Teodora said warmly. After all this time and everything that had happened, she always welcomed him as her sons' friend, rather than Baron Wulfenbach. Perhaps it was because he had been the first in the outside world to be willing to risk friendship with the dread Heterodynes who kept greeting everyone politely and offering to buy rounds of beer.

“Lady Teodora,” he said, with a polite nod. He looked to Saturnus. If the man got any more smug, he’d burst. “Do you think this is wise, Saturnus?”

“Do I think what is wise?”

Interesting. Not so much as a twitch at the lack of honorific.

“Ringing the Doom Bell.”

“I didn’t ring it,” Saturnus said, grinning broadly.

“Having the castle ring it for you, then, if you want to be pedantic,” Klaus said, trying to keep his voice dry instead of irritable, and not quite managing it.

“When it’s annoying you? Always.”

“You realize there are major consequences to this.”

“Of course!”

“I was under the impression you had chosen not to reclaim the title because there was no heir.”

“You were correct.”

“Has that changed?”

“No, no, you’re still correct.”

There was a ripple of laughter from the crowd around them. Klaus glanced at Teodora, who gave him a look that said, very succinctly, that while she was sympathetic, Klaus was on his own on this one.

“Has an heir been found?”

“Huh, I should hope not!” Saturnus exclaimed. Klaus narrowed his eyes.

“Then perhaps you can tell me who the new Heterodyne is, Master Saturnus.”

“Oh, go on and guess,” Saturnus crowed, not even remotely annoyed at having been caught out so quickly. Klaus glanced at Teodora again…and stopped.

She was smiling, ever so slightly.

“The girl,” Klaus said.

“Agatha is my granddaughter,” Teodora confirmed.

“You,” Klaus said, in a very icy tone, “wrote a letter asking me to help you in keeping people from suspecting your new ward of being a Heterodyne child. A very emotional letter.”

If you remain suspicious and if you must have those suspicions satisfied, I beg you, Klaus, to do it as discreetly as you can. God has gifted me her, and I have lost so much.

“Yes,” Teodora said. “I lied, and I used your perception of me as a weak old woman to my advantage.” Her smile stretched a little wider. “I’m not a saint, Klaus.”

“Then I would like to speak to the Lady Agatha Heterodyne.”

“I’m afraid she’s asleep, poor thing,” Teodora said, this time sounding genuinely apologetic. “She’s been running around the castle for two days straight getting it fixed in the middle of a siege, and there was all that trouble in Sturmhalten before that. Perhaps you would like to join us for tea?”

“I would like answers, Lady Vodenicharova,” Klaus said coldly.

“Ooh, he last named you, he is mad.”

Teodora, not looking down, thwacked her husband on the arm in a way that was almost…playful.

“I’m afraid everyone who could give you a proper answer is asleep, unconscious, or dead.”

“Dead?”

“Aaronev’s head is currently in cold storage; Sun can thaw him out if you’d like,” Saturnus said, and began to count off on his fingers. “Your questor had a bad reaction to one of the screamer cannons; Dr Sun says she should get her hearing back in another day or so, but she’s been out of commission pretty much since the fighting started. Aaronev is dead, as mentioned; worth repeating, worth killing again if you want. The leader of the Geisterdamen is dead. Captain Vole is sleeping off near-death from blood loss. Tarvek Sturmvoraus is alive but asleep; he was with Agatha in the Castle.”

He paused and rubbed his chin.

“You know what, von Blitzengaard is still alive. He took off when the fog merchants showed up, the big baby, so you’d have to head over to the Refuge of Storms.”

“I’ve got a lovely raspberry tea I think you’ll enjoy,” Teodora said. “Or you can go back to Castle Wulfenbach, and we will send word when Agatha wakes up.”

Klaus looked around at the chaos and destruction that had been wrought upon Mechanicsburg.

“Perhaps I could stay and lend a hand,” Klaus said mildly.

#girl genius #klaus wulfenbach #saturnus heterodyne #teodora vodenicharova #grandfather saturnus au

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