#u can also ask me if you have any questions !!

[awrkive]

tlp extra where one of the surgeons gang catches him admiring tlp OC please 🙏🏽

summary: tlp drabble #2 where taehyung figures jungkook out

w/c: 1.5k

note: instead of an extra heres a Drabble 🤓 the official introduction of taehyung into the surgeons gang study group. timeline is first semester of second year. this got a little angsty in the end but nothing major u'll see angst if u squint. also pls dont judge me if i got some of the technical medical stuff wrong 💔 i was armed with google searches n tiktok 💔

Taehyung can already hear the sound of laughter and your voices slipping through the hallways as he makes his way to Moon’s Print Shop. 

When he enters, he immediately sees the three of you – Doyeon, Jungkook, and you, huddled in the long table, with Doyeon seated across from you and Jungkook who are sitting close together on one side like usual. From where he is at the door, he gets the view of Jungkook circling his arm around the back of your chair, his head leaning down to the side of your direction, listening to you and Doyeon talk. 

“Oh, hey, Taehyung!” You snap your head to the direction of the door when Taehyung enters. The other two follow, greeting him simultaneously while he gives the same back, going straight to the chair available next to Doyeon. 

“We’re doing clinical reasoning. __ here is trying to do it in under three minutes.” Doyeon says, chuckling a little at the end of her sentence.

“Yeah, she’s trying to beat my record.” Jungkook muses beside you, and Taehyung watches as you turn to Jungkook with your bottom lip jutted out, frowning.

“I don’t know how you can do it in a minute. Teach me.” 

Jungkook chuckles, forming crinkles at both sides of his eyes. He lifts his hand – the one that’s not around your chair – to pinch your cheek a little. 

“You gotta study a lot, buddy.” 

“Don’t be cocky,” You say, swatting his arm and turning to Doyeon. “Okay, give me a new case. Jungkook, press record.” 

Doyeon and Taehyung laugh at both your antics. While Taehyung prepares his iPad and books, Doyeon begins to tell you about the patient, reading through a reviewer. 

“Okay, so the patient, a 42-year-old male, presents to the ER with increasing shortness of breath. He’s wheezing and coughing.” Doyeon starts. 

Cocking your head to the side, you ask, “Does he have a history of asthma or any allergies?” When Doyeon says "no", you try again. “Smoking?” She shakes her head. “Okay, well uhm… is his cough dry… or?” 

“Yep. It is dry.” Doyeon nods while looking at the paper. 

“What about the chest X-ray?” 

“Marked hyperinflation.”

“Is the AP diameter also increased?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh,” Taehyung watches as some sort of enlightenment crosses over your face. With curiosity, he tries to peek at Doyeon’s paper but she immediately puts it down so he can’t see it. She arches her brow at him and he rolls his eyes, sitting upright back on his chair again. He watches you instead, getting invested. “Can you tell me about the ABG report, then?” 

“It’s PaO2 of 63 and PaCO2 of 54.”

“Oh, oh!” You lean towards Doyeon enthusiastically. “So the patient is hypoxic and hypercapniac… what about the spirometry, the FEV1?” 

“Zero point sixty.” 

Taehyung watches as a confused expression paints your face again. “So obstructive in nature…” It takes you awhile to ask another question, and even though Taehyung has only known you for only around a term, he knows that look on your face. You’re beginning to feel anxious now. With a hesitant tone, you cock your head to the side as you ask, “What about the bronchodilator response— is it significant?” 

“No, no.” Doyeon responds immediately. 

You pout. 

That’s when Taehyung sees Jungkook’s face beginning to contort into an expression of concern. 

It makes him arch a brow, but Jungkook’s too busy staring at the side of your face to even notice and question Taehyung about it.

“Okay… let’s go for the CT scan. Was there primarily an upper or lower lobe involved?” 

“Lower lobe, yes.” Doyeon nods.

You subtly look at Jungkook’s phone laying on the table with the timer up, grimacing at whatever you saw. 

Taehyung tears a piece of paper from his notebook and writes, [What is it?], and when he’s done, he slides it to Jungkook’s direction. It does a good job of straying his friend's eyes from you, his attention now to the scratch that Taehyung gave him. 

Jungkook quickly scribbles down something and returns the paper back to Taehyung. 

[Not sure. First impression is COPD. Waiting for blood work up.]

Taehyung’s mouth forms an O-shape upon reading the note, everything suddenly also making sense to him. He’s about to give Jungkook an impressed look but he’s already back to staring at you again, but this time you meet his gaze, and for awhile it’s like you two are communicating in a language he, neither Doyeon, know anything about – and Taehyung suddenly feels as if he’s… third-wheeling. 

The moment is cut short when you suddenly look at Doyeon, voice sounding full again. Confident this time. “Does the blood work up show that there’s deficiency in alpha-1 antitrypsin?”

“Yes.” 

Now there’s a grin on your face, and when Taehyung’s gaze falls back to Jungkook again, he smiles the same time you do. His arm around your chair comes up to pinch your arm, rubbing there softly – subtly – and your grin grows even wider – like his – when you finally tell your final diagnosis. 

“If he's AAT deficient then that's COPD. In his case, specifically, emphysema.” 

"And referral?"

Your excitement feels palpable as you say, "AAT replacement therapy and pulmonary rehab."

“You got it.” Doyeon says, smiling at you. 

“Oh my god,” You look at Jungkook’s phone and your eyes widen. “I did it in two minutes and thirty one seconds.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks down at his phone as well and then gazes back at you. “That was hella good.”

“Right?” You grin, taking in the praise from Doyeon as well. 

“That was really impressive, __.” 

Taehyung throws a compliment, as well. He’s admittedly a bit slow at clinical reasoning – slower than Jungkook and you, at least. 

“That was, wow—” he shakes his head to the side and claps slowly for the theatrics.

The others follow through the silliness and applauds you. Meanwhile, you stand up from the chair and begin to curtsy jokingly, relishing in the exaggerated celebration. 

When you come back to your seat, Jungkook makes sure to scoot your chair closer so you land on it well, and you chuckle as he does so. 

Doyeon probably didn’t catch it as she’s back to reading her notes again, but Taehyung catches Jungkook mouthing, “I’m proud of you” to you in which you give him a sweet smile for.

“What was that yesterday?” Taehyung asks Jungkook as both guys wait for you and Doyeon at the cafeteria for lunch. 

Jungkook looks at him wide-eyed as he stops sipping on his shake. “Huh?”

“The whole thing with __.”

With a deepening frown, Jungkook continues to look confused. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Taehyung deadpans. “Oh, so, like, rubbing your friend’s shoulder to calm them down during a clinical reasoning test and staring at them intently while doing it, being all proud and supportive and shot, is normal to you?” He adds, “I caught that “I’m proud of you” line, by the way. I was watching you closely.” Taehyung makes a show of pointing two of his fingers to his eyes and then to Jungkook to emphasize his point. 

Jungkook scoffs. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“You like her.”

“Who?” 

“__.” 

Jungkook chokes on his drink. Taehyung doesn’t bother to give him his glass of water, squinting his eyes at his friend instead.

When Jungkook recovers, he jabs at his chest as he glares at Taehyung. “What are you talking about? No, I don’t like __. Not like that.” 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything for awhile, just stares at Jungkook to see the reaction of his face. He keeps on tightening his brows so Taehyung can’t decipher anything – a defense mechanism, really, but he knows he’s blown his friend’s cover when Jungkook scoffs again and rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, fine. You win. I like her.” 

Taehyung snorts. “I knew it.” 

“You didn’t.” Jungkook rolls his eyes again.

“I thought about it a few times. Dude, you’re like a golden retriever around her. Jackson totally digs __ but he thinks you’re both together the way you act around her.” 

“W-what?” Jungkook stammers. “Jackson? Senior?” 

Taehyung nods. “Yep.” 

Looking away, Jungkook stares at the glass wall. “Well. That’s not possible. She has a boyfriend.” 

That makes Taehyung's grin fade. 

Clearing his throat, he sips from his water on the table. “Well. Yeah. She has a boyfriend. The Eunwoo guy, right? The architect, or something.” 

Taehyung sees something that flashes across his friend’s face – hurt? jealousy? – he’s not sure. But the air begins to feel thick at the sudden drop of mood. 

“Yeah.” 

Both of them are quiet for awhile until Taehyung speaks. 

“That’s tough, Jungkook.” 

“I know.” But there’s a bitter smile on his face. “Just… don’t tell her about it, okay?” 

The sincerity and vulnerability in his voice were something Taehyung doesn’t expect at all. It makes his tongue fumble for the right words, but he settles with, “Okay. She won’t hear anything from me.” 

Jungkook gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks, Taehyung.” 

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for u-h-h-g-h behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . wait, actually, is he gonna have to start reading biographies and historical stuff? He’s a dad now. The other dads are gonna expect him to know stuff about the Civil War and World War II and, like, lawnmowers and how to grill, aren’t they. His dad didn’t even grill, Mom did! Dad always got distracted by his book or something and let the hot dogs burn! 

Billy is not optimistic about his capacity to mow a lawn, though at least they’re in an apartment. Like–probably somebody handles that, right? That’s gotta be a thing, doesn’t it? 

. . . he should check with Batman about that, maybe. 

. . . . . . and also figure out what the wisdom of Solomon knows about how grilling works. 

Or, uh–work on the focus thing, maybe. Definitely the focus thing. It’s just–it all feels like so much, and Billy doesn’t wanna mess up and wreck Lynn’s whole entire life and make him miserable forever or ever make him feel like any of those foster “families” and social workers ever made him and just about all the other kids he knew in the system feel or– 

Billy wonders if he could maybe find a god to talk to about asking to borrow, like, the forethought of Apollo or the precision of Arachne or the strategy of Ariadne or something sometime (though definitely not the concentration of Atalanta, because one golden apple and he’d be right back where he started). Like if he could maybe swap it out with the stamina of Atlas or the courage of Achilles when he needs to, that’s all. Just when it’s, like, situationally useful or whatever. 

. . . he’s really not doing a good job with this focus thing at all, yeah. Which he’s pretty sure he’s thought a few times now already, too, just–

He’s just really nervous, still. He’s really glad Lynn doesn’t hate him or think he’s lame, but he could still totally do something that’d make Lynn hate him or think he’s lame and–

Focus. 

“Want me to serve?” Billy offers, pointing at the plates. “I mean I know I don’t know how much you need to eat yet, but neither do you, and I’ve seen a lot more people eat than you have, sooo . . .” 

“. . . you’ve seen Superman eat?” Lynn asks, looking–uncomfortable, briefly, and looking down at the plates in his hands. Billy’s gonna have to start finding stuff for him to look at instead of people, he’s pretty sure. Like, little puzzles Lynn can be messing around with or little crafts he can be doing or something, so people just figure that’s why he’s not making eye contact with them and not, like, him being antisocial or something. 

“Oh, yeah, tons of times,” Billy says, since that’s a valid question and all, considering actually the way big majority of the people he’s seen eat were human and Lynn is actually not, so actually that might not be helpful anyway. Superman’s diet would be way more useful to know about. But the problem there is–“But like, I don’t ever really know if he really needs to be eating or if he’s just doing it to be polite? ‘Cuz I do that sometimes, definitely. But also sometimes it’s just ‘cuz something looks good? So yeah, I dunno. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance, maybe I can catch him after the next League meeting. Or I guess I could email him, I guess that’s a thing . . .” 

He doesn’t really use his League email or messaging accounts or anything like that, like, basically ever, but Batman did give them the phones and all, so he’s not gonna have to go to the library to do it anymore, sooooo . . . 

Lynn doesn’t say anything; just keeps his eyes down and on the plates he’s still holding. Billy tries not to frown. Lynn doesn’t talk much or make eye contact all that much, so far, so it’s not like it’s new. Just–he doesn’t know, really. He’s still got this weird feeling like something’s wrong, all of a sudden. 

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Thank you do much to @zorilleerrant for tagging me! It’s been so long since I’ve been tagged in one of these I’m so excited :D My word is JUICE.

—-

1: J (Unnamed WIP. Yes obviously Billy is the kid, who do you think I am?)

Just as he was about to start CPR, the kid opens his eyes, looking blearily up at him and breathing calmly as if he hadn't just died. No gasp of air to make up for at least five minutes of breathlessness, no panicked glancing around wondering why they're under tons of rubble. The kid just… blinks at him.

—-

2: U (Unnamed WIP, Clark's POV)

Ugh. Magic. He should have minded his own business from the start. Unfortunately, there's no way he can run from this now, not with Zatanna looking at him with so much hope in her eyes.

—-

3: I (From an almost completed one shot)

"... Is he high?" Barry questions. Victor turns around to glare at him. "What!? I'm just asking!"

—-

4: C (From chapter 6 of 'Learning to Live')

Captain Marvel pulls a jar of metal screws from… who knows where, and hands it to Clark with the most innocent face known to man. He was practically glowing. Hal has no clue whether he did this to screw (hah) with Clark or if he was genuinely just trying to help, but he honestly couldn't care less when he sees the resigned look cross Clark’s face before he eats the entire jar, glass and all, in seven seconds flat.

—-

5: E (from and unfinished fic called ‘Two Halves, Never Whole’)

Excuse him?? Was he just profiled by an old rich jerk with an ego big enough to purchase a gold encrusted pen? (Yes, you heard him right, there is a golden pen laying on the coffee table.) Just because Billy doesn’t have any money, a home, or any way to sustain himself doesn’t mean he’s a thief by default! He’s a hero for goodness sakes! Billy walks past the table, now lacking a golden pen, and plops down onto the ridiculously comfortable couch. Rich people are so annoying.

—-

Doing this made me realize that I dont have nearly as much writing done as I thought. It was really difficult to find all the sentences! Also I got tagged in like three more of these while I was working on this one! Am I supposed to do all of them? I want to but I’m not sure if I have enough drafts!

Tagging @teehhhhhhhhhhh and @wildglitch ! Anyone else is encouraged to join as well! I don’t know who has been tagged already or not.

Your word is “WORD”

[caitchercatlady]

He'll Have to Go Through Me

-Savanaclaw Version

Leona Kingscholar

Though Leona doesn't often show it, he greatly cares for the people he tolerates. How do you think he still keeps his dorm in order? Ever since his overblot ordeal, Leona sees more potential in you, and it doesn't hurt to have you around. This type of attention from the Savanaclaw Housewarden does make the rest of the dorm jealous, which brings negative attention on yourself. As you are studying in the garden, you end up being ambushed by a few disgruntled Savanaclaw students, threatening you to prove yourself worthy of Leona's rare acknowledgements. Little do they know that they're useless yelling has woken up nearby Leona from his nap, and he's not happy about any of the situation at large.

"My dorm lackeys may have the brawns, but you truly lack the brains. You were so cowardly that instead of taking your anger out on me, you take it out on a freshman. Go ahead. I'm listening."

The cowards "eep" their way out of the garden as fast as their legs can take them. Leona walks up to you and pats you on the head, reassuringly. He reminds you that you have the power to give yourself permission to not deal with idiots, especially when they encroach on your personal space. If you ever need help on how to do that, Leona is there to give you the basics.

Ruggie Bucchi

Like Ruggie is a tease, but he would never stand back and watch bullying happen, especially if it inolves money. He knows about the struggle at home, and those instincts spike at every reminder. Ruggie catches up with you on your way to the cafeteria. He wonders if you're gonna get the special today, but when you worriedly say no, he gets suspicious. You never miss out on the special sandwiches unless something is wrong. You mention that you owe someone money, and he suspects it's your Heartslabyul besties. You shiver at the thought. He stops you and demands to know who is exploiting you, and you ask how Ruggie knows that. Does Ruggie really need to tell you that?

Once learning of this tyrant, Ruggie storms into the cafeteria with a flame of vengeance burning in his belly. He taunts that he knows many a Housewarden who are looking to pay an underclassman to work for them. Considering how the guy's been threatening for lunch money, Ruggie assures him that if he works for either Leona, Azul, Kalim, or Vil, the bully could buy all the meals in the world, so he can skip one meal for one day until then. With that said, Ruggie made it safe for you to purchase your special.

"That'll teach 'em. Money is precious, Prefect. No one is entitled to yours...unless you have them to work for ya, of course. Anyway, if he bothers you again, call me, and I'll enact Plan B, no questions about it."

Jack Howl

Jack, the more you interact with him, may seem like a guy who doesn't care about anyone except himself, but if you're ever in trouble, Jack is there to prove you wrong. It's also clear that due to your reputation as an academic brain for a layperson, you unintentionally gain some enemies. You do your best to ignore their taunting. One day though, your bullies refuse to back down despite your quiet neutrality. They corner you in the halls and demand you get on the ground and submit.

A growling rebuttal sends shivers down to every single delinquint's spine. The last person they expected to interrupt the scuffle was also the very last person they wanted to see (other than the Housewardens, especially Malleus). Justice is the will of the wolf, and if lowlifes are going to pick a fight with a layperson, how about they fight Jack instead, no magic being the only rule? Cowardly as they are, the bullies run off, out of sight. Jack pulls you in for a hug as you are shaken by the interaction that just took place.

"You don't have to deal with any of that. No friend of mine is going to deal with any of that. Ya understand me?"

Jack may not know it, but his comforting side is brushing your fear right out of your body. This warm feeling urges you to latch onto Jack like a cub to its mother. With each "thank you" that you let out, the more Jack's face blushes pink. He knows that no matter how much he tells you not to make such a big deal out of it, it'll fall on deaf ears, so he lets this slide.

[toxintouch]

Yooooooo, you write fan fictions, don't you? Halloween is, like, right over there *points*. would you be willing to do one of mhin taking sparrow ghost hunting? and maybe even having a "guest appearance" of a certain shadow manipulator?

if this has already been done, could you point me in the right direction?

thank you~

I've never seen a fic like that but omg. This is such a brilliant idea, I love how all the pieces come together so perfectly–Vere being said to be responsible for his fair share of local ghost stories, mentions of Mhin and haunted houses in the Uquiz results… Premium thoughts.  I had a lot of fun writing this, ty for giving me the prompt!! :>

It took a couple of extra days but it's also longer (~2900 words) so hopefully that makes up for it.  p.s sorry if u meant it to be more gen bc I wrote romantic pining lol Volume Warning! Ambiance (~BEAUTIFUL FOX NOISES) for y'all /j

Cold Spots

You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, sheltering your remaining body heat from the howling wind.  

You ignore the shiver that creeps down your spine.

You’ve been warned that the night is chilly in Eridia at this time of year, but you haven’t quite scraped together enough coin to afford more layers.  So you huddle closer to the swaying lamplight of the Wet Wick, attempting to leech warmth from the cheery (if occasionally overwhelming) atmosphere of the bar.  You’re on edge, wary about straying too far from the Wick’s affable open doors and the balmy light spilling out of them.

You crane your neck to peer as far as you can around the corner without moving, eyeing the myriad of nearby alleyways, all full to the brim with shadows, searching for a familiar splash of moonlight and blue sweeping through the night.

 That’s when you feel eyes on your back.

You freeze, all of your senses on high alert.

“You’re where I asked you to be.”  Mhin says in lieu of a greeting.  You startle, reeling around to face them.  Even when you're expecting them, they have the uncanny ability of sneaking up on you.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”  You chide, in mock affront.  “You’ll notice that I’m also on time.”  Your giddiness shows on your face, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t act so pleased with yourself,” they snipe while rolling their eyes, “for anyone else, that’s the bare minimum.”  They frown, looking you up and down with their arms tightly crossed. “...Is that what you’re wearing?”

Any further quips you have for them die in your mouth, drowned out by nervous chuckling.  You realize they must be asking (in their own way) if you’re not going to get too cold.  You know you could just ask Leander or Kuras for some seasonally appropriate attire but you’d rather not rely on further charity if you can’t help it.  Hence: “I’m, um, warm blooded?”  You mean to inject an appropriate amount of bravado into your voice, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mhin sighs, long eyelashes brushing their cheeks as they close their eyes for one long moment.   “Sometimes I wonder…  Fine.  Let’s just get going.”

The floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you step across the threshold.  The entire shack seems to groan and sway, protesting audibly against the wind.  You stick close to Mhin’s back as they hold their gas lamp up, casting an eerie glow about the interior of the abandoned building.  Their keen eyes do a quick sweep before they nod decisively and usher you inside with a single precise motion.

The bellow of the wind sounds almost like a scream as the door shuts behind you.

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?”  Your voice comes out hushed, the haunting atmosphere insisting that behave accordingly.

“Likely nothing.”  Mhin responds.  “Actual ghost sightings are very rare.  And of those, few recorded instances come from trustworthy sources.  People in Eridia can be quite superstitious.  Count on rats or other pests.  It’s more plausible that this is a mere infestation rather than–”

The roof above your heads gives a long, low creeaaaak.

You both pause for a beat, listening to silence.

“How would we know if it's a real ghost?”  You ask, more out of curiosity than anything.  You’re not about to waste the opportunity, if Mhin is willing to keep talking.

“Depends on the type of ghost.”  Another protest from the floorboards as Mhin wanders further into the dark.  Since you don’t have a lantern of your own, you have no choice but to follow close behind.  Unless you want to stumble around with nothing but the shatters of dusty moonlight cast through the cracked windows to guide your way.

Mhin and you make a quick round of the small building, finding it mostly empty, only a few pieces of broken furniture left behind.  You draw closer to the back wall, carefully avoiding moth-eaten curtains, heeding Mhin’s warning about a small step.  Based on the layout, you think this place might have been a bar or entertainment hall of some sort.  You imagine it had a nice, cozy parlor at one time, though now it’s fallen into squalor.  As Mhin examines the walls for signs of pests and other clues, you examine the graffiti strewn across them: crude jokes and lewd drawings, mostly.  Some scattered names, belonging to people and gangs you’ve never heard of before.  

Framed in the center, though, there's a huge riot of colorful paint.  An abstract painting with no proper canvas.  It's beautiful, somehow, though hauntingly morose.  The artist has contained their work in a neat square, not a single streak of color escaping the precisely imposed prison.  You’re not sure what the intent of the artist was choosing somewhere like this to display it…  

“Is there a type of ghost that makes artwork?”  You wonder aloud.  You almost wish that Mhin would hand you the lantern so you can get a better look.

Mhin clicks their tongue, sparing barely a glance toward the makeshift painting.  “I wouldn't define that as art.”  Mhin follows the line of the wall to the corner, their lantern held up to the wall.  “That’s just…paint.  If you’re looking for ghosts, try looking for scratch marks.  Those are a possible indicator, though not always a reliable one.  A sudden feeling of hot, or cold–any otherwise unexplainable temperature change.  A strange odor…”

You give the air a sniff.  “...I don’t smell anything.  Do you?”

“Dust.  Rotting wood.  And you’ve stopped using Leander’s bath soaps, which I’ll commend you for.  Why anybody would want to smell that strongly of–”  Mhin stops and gives a short whiff, their mouth slightly parted.  Their brows furrow. “It is unusual…I don't see or smell any signs of rats or roaches.  No vultures either…”

“Maybe something else scared them away?”  You posit.  You shuffle closer to Mhin, not liking the way the shadows around you seem to flow and ebb the longer you look at them, your mind making up shapes.  There’s a silly part of you that wants to feel Mhin’s cloak between your bandaged fingers as reassurance that they’ll stay close.  They’d probably hate to know that you see them as something to cling to–a source of comfort, safety.

You try to take another step closer to further dampen your trepidation, but instead you trip over– something–and stumble directly into Mhin.  They catch you on impulse, strong and quick enough to steady you with one arm while holding the lantern with the other.  You breathe an apology, your lips bumping against their chin as they help you get your feet back under you.  

You both search the ground to determine what knocked you off your balance.

It's a dirty old rug, rucked up at one edge.  

A long line of what appears to be claw marks lies half uncovered below it.  Mhin kneels beside the marks, studying them intently, carefully moving the rug to reveal yet more splintered wood.  “I’m not sure what could have done this,” they admit.  “The marks are fresh, but none of the dust was disrupted…”

The floorboards groan another protest, though it bounds off the walls in strange ways, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound originated.

“Aural contortions.”  Mhin announces.  “And a feeling that you’re being watched.  Reflective surfaces will behave oddly as well.  Hold this.”  Mhin hands you the lantern (more: shoves it into your grasp, really) reaching into their satchel.  Their nimble hands pull out a handful of alchemical concoctions, one which shines like the inside of a seashell, a tiny silver locket, which they flick open to reveal a small mirror.  There’s symbols etched into it, so old and worn away you can’t make them out.

You draw the lantern closer at their behest, illuminating a small smile spread across their face.

Is Mhin …Having fun?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  You ask, hoping they don’t notice the warmth in your voice. Getting scolded would kind of ruin the mood.

Mhin glances up, blinking at you like they almost forgot you were there.  Their tongue peeks out, wetting their lips as they consider.  “Yes,” they finally agree, “would you–”

The lamplight is smothered by an unknown force.

The cracked streams of light from the window are gone, leaving you in darkness.

Mhin swears, their voice distorting as if they are suddenly very far away.  A moment ago they were crouched beside you, but the shadows surrounding you are so inky you can’t make out their silhouette at all.  Instinctively, you reach your hands out in front of you before freezing and reluctantly forcing them back down.  If both you and Mhin end up stumbling around with hands outstretched, there’s a possibility that they might accidentally grasp onto you and disrupt your bandages.  (You wish you had given into your desire to hold onto them earlier.)  

You whisper their name, frantic, hoping they can hear you.

“I’m here,” Mhin assures you, their voice pitched low and cautious.  You feel the gentle press of a foot against yours, a light tap of reassurance against the side of your sole.  “Stay close.”  There’s a brush of fingertips against your back.  “If the entity is particularly powerful, it will be able to move objects,” Mhin cautions, “but a ghost should never be capable of causing harm to humans directly.  And there’s not much in here that it could throw.  Just stay calm.  If you don’t keep your emotions in check, it will only be more incensed.”

Light flashes through the room again in a spotlight, guiding your gaze to a particular area of the building.

The abstract mural is defaced, dripping black liquid splattered boldly across the wall like arterial spray.  You retreat a step, feeling something wet beneath your feet.  There’s a sharp, astringent tang in the air.  Musty and earthy-floral.  Old velvet and leather, parchment and fresh paint.

You realize, with a sinking feeling of cold terror, that the black ichor on the wall spells your name.

    Eyes on you.  

Touch like a gossamer spider web.  Brushing against the nape of your neck.

“Mhin,” you whisper urgently.  “Something just–”  

The cold hits you then.  Bone deep and all consuming.  Judging by the way Mhin swears, they must feel it too.  Whatever this unknown entity is, it’s close.  And it wants…

Shadow flickers, fingers reaching for you, claws grasping, white glint of teeth.

Mhin sneers audibly, reaching for you and reeling you in by your cloak just before the figure can snatch you up.  Their arm wraps around you, guiding you with them as they recede.  They sweep their stiletto in a wide arc and you hear the clang of metal on metal, though you have no idea what it was that Mhin hit.  Their night vision must be immaculate–you can hardly see more than the fresh glint of their stiletto blade.

“Turns out it is a vermin infestation.”

A bark of laughter.  

Very familiar laughter.

The door starts to rattle on its hinges, moving to the rhythm of Vere's glee.  Mhin walks over to it, dragging your shaking body with them.  With a definitive kick from Mhin and a final cackle from Vere, the door bursts open.

Mhin tugs you out into the open air and slams it behind them.

“Awful fur-bag.”  Mhin spits the words out like the mere thought of Vere leaves a bad taste in their mouth.

You’re far enough away that the black paint clinging to both of your shoes is no longer leaving footprints, but you can’t say the same about the bone deep cold.

You’re shivering so hard your teeth start to chatter, adrenaline magnifying the chill in your bones.  How did Vere even do that?  You rub your arms and nearly stumble into Mhin in the process.  Their features twist into a half-formed scowl, eyes sweeping you before softening into something more delicate.

You find yourself staring into eyes that seem to catch the moonlight, words caught in your throat.

“You’re freezing.” Mhin murmurs, resting a hand against the curve of your cheek, testing your temperature.

You’re surprised at the contact.  Mhin is always so careful about touching you–it’s something you appreciate, usually, this unspoken agreement between the two of you; Mhin doesn’t ask intrusive questions, just makes silent hypotheses and treats your personal space with care.  You appreciate it–usually–but sometimes, (constantly), you wish…

Mhin’s thumb pets against your jaw.  They glace away from you as they do, unable to hold your gaze, but they don’t remove their hand, even as the moment hangs heavy in the air.  Their hand is soft, you think, fingertips like silk, though you can feel the thick calluses built up at the meat of their palm.  Likely hard won and harder lost, trophies from their time as a freelancer and whatever secret misfortune befell them what led them to Eridia.  Unthinking, you nuzzle into their touch, luxuriating in the coveted feeling of skin on skin.  You have half a mind to turn your head, press your lips against their calluses, kiss them like you’re drawing poison from a wound.

Mhin catches your chin between their thumb and pointer finger.  Their grip is assertive, certain.  You’d worry that you’ve angered them somehow, but the intensity of their gaze, the subtle tilt of their head, the flush of their cheeks, the featherlight caress of their breath on your lips…

–You think they might–

They back away abruptly in one smooth stride.  Their hands work quickly at the intricate clasp on their cloak.  Oh, now they’re really looking away.

“Wear this while we head back.  You didn’t come to this city to die of cold.”

They look at their bracers pointedly as you hesitate, as if itching to adjust them.  You slowly reach out and put the garment on.

The trek back to the Wick is uneventful.  The occasional star glances out from the pall of clouds constantly lingering in the Eridian sky.  You look for the waning moon, finding its reticent light and following it home.  You return Mhin’s cloak at the door, careful to hold it in a way that allows them to take it without having to touch you – touch your bandages.  

Mhin looks, oddly, a little reluctant to see it returned.  You’re not sure how else you can possibly read their body language.  Their hunched shoulders, the downturn of their mouth, their uncharacteristic lingering.  Holding the cloak in their hands like they can’t quite decide what to think of it.

They let out a sharp breath.

Mhin levels you with a pointed glare as they settle their mantle across their shoulders, affixing the clasp without need to look down.  “Buy some warmer clothes.” they order, “Tell Leander that the contract is complete and the buyer’s ‘ghost problem’ is solved.  The building should be fine for renovations, just tell them to start their renewal project on a day when the Senobium is actually holding Vere’s leash.”

 

“You’ll come back for your cut tomorrow…?”  Confusion rolls off your lips.

“No.”  Mhin crosses their arms again.  “I just told you to buy some warmer clothes, didn’t I?  Consider it hazard pay.”  Again, that disgusted tone Mhin reserves for Vere.  “Even with that taken into consideration, you’ll still owe me, though.  Don’t forget.  I’ll collect some day; everyone does in this city.”

You’re not sure what to say.  Mhin is insisting that this is just a loan, and you believe that wholeheartedly.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t charity.  Mhin’s also offering you transparency–an open disclosure of the deal you’re agreeing to.  You take their cut, buy what you need, and resolve to pay it back when you can.  And if Mhin needs something similar in the future, you’ll return them in kind.  

You think you stumble over your words a little, but you agree to their offer.

“I’ll be back to collect another contract.  Hopefully something that’s not a waste of my time.”

And a promise to come back is a promise to see you again, isn’t it?  To include you in their life?  Is that what you’re supposed to take from this?  That Mhin cares for you, even if they won’t–

 

Or is it your foolish heart, showing you a path that isn’t really there?  

“Goodnight, Mhin.”  You say the words, but their back is already turned, steps already taken.

   ✦ EXTENDED ENDING...? ✦

 

 You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine.  The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed.  You smooth down the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight.  You tug the covers up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable.

As your eyes finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.  

It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you.

Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort. 

You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream.

“Vere, what–”

“Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin.

“I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

[dom1re]

Hi! 💙 I partly know the answer to this question regarding Sunan’s hair colour, but other than that, are there any other characters (from books, films, etc) that were references for Sunan or influenced his traits, lore and/or design?

I don't think I referenced anything for Sunan specifically. The goal was to write someone who's nice and easygoing but sort of has a wall up coz he's scared of opening himself up.

In that regard, actually, Sunan reminds me of Allen Walker from D Gray Man. They're both in their teens but forced to grow up very fast; they are the keys to the war that's going on in their respective worlds, and carry this unreasonable burden to resolve conflicts and save lives. They also share a deep fear of being rejected by their loved ones due to their past. I remember being really fascinated by Allen as a teen myself so I might have drawn inspiration from him unconsciously.

(I didn't realize this but D Gray Man also takes place in 19th century... And Allen is presumably British)

But what I can say for sure is that the fic is loosely inspired by Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger. The book's about a 16 year old boy, Holden Caulfield, who's basically stuck between childhood and adulthood. He feels rejected by the society and neglected by adults around him; he refuses to grow up and become one of them. This is the interpretation i take with not just Sunan but Sebastian and Ominis as well. Those of u who read the fic might recall the rye field and the cliff scene. That's meant to be a nod to this book (though it's pretty vague). I'm planning to use this imagery throughout the fic. We'll see how many times I can squeeze it in

Oh I also wanna mention The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen. This book is about a double agent who's half Vietnamese, half French. Some of its key themes are, surprise surprise, dealing with one's conflicting cultural/political identities; the idea of belonging to both and neither.

Now Sunan's also mixed (Chinese Thai / British), and spent time as both a Squib and a Wizard. He has to lie and pretend a lot for his goal (protecting the Repository), which he doesn't particularly feel loyal towards. I guess being a 1.5 gen immigrant I've always been drawn to these themes, so I'm trying to explore them in my writing. And that's how Sunan became a deeply troubled teen

(In fact Natty is a perfect character for this; she's an immigrant who had to move to a different society and adapt to new ways. It'd be fun to write a one shot about her... if I ever get time 🤪)

Alright I gotta stop myself 😂😂 sorry this is so long, you can tell how much I loved this ask 🫶 thank you for ur interest diana!! such good questions keep em coming coming

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[plead-au]

a compilation of recent PLE:AD AU-related drawings. sorted by oldest to latest

[robinfollies]

I literally have No idea how to go about making a post for this but I have a teepublic now!! And I’ve put a BUNCH of bbu pride designs on it that you can check out now if you’d like!!!

Here’s just a few of the designs I have available right now!!! You can get them as stickers, on shirts, and many more things!!! Happy Pride Month!!!

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

[eebie]

i cant keep it hidden any longer

[puppyeared]

you seem like the. kind of person who I'd run into during a rock concert while I'm trying to find bathroom and notably you are dressed kind of oddly for the concert (see: divorced dad outfit. hawaiian shirt. jorts. chunky sandles. giant sun hat.) and so I ask you "hello, do you know where I can find the bathroom?" and you go "yeah sure!!" and you point me the complete opposite direction from the bathroom. not on purpose, but because you also have no idea where the bathroom is. I thank you and go on my way, both of us oblivious to the fact we are currently very much not at a rock concert. it's an idie band that just screams really loud. sorry if that's specific you just give me giant 'perpetual tourist that isn't really a tourist and has never left their home city but just seems like a tourist anyways' energy

naw thats a pretty reasonable impression id say

[transsexualgriffith]

what *is* berserk? i've heard about it/heard the title, but have like 0 clue what it's even about other than potentially "grimdark medieval-esque fantasy"

sexual repression.

okay that was my meme answer, reyni i cannot even begin to tell you how happy I am you asked this. I will be very upfront and tell you that truly even after all the praise I will sing it, i consider it highly unlikely that berserk is a story you personally would enjoy, but I am so glad I get to tell you about it anyways.

the question of "what is berserk" is kind of..infinitely complex. none of the assumptions you have are wrong, infact they're right on the money, and you would be far from the first to have never known berserk to be anything but those things. i don't believe that I knew very much of anything at all about berserk before I myself chose to watch (and then read) it. I went into it basically completely blind and I believe i was better for it, because nothing anyone could've told me about berserk would've been able to prepare me for what I was about to read.

berserk is, first of, and I believe you're interested in manga as how it exists as a medium and of course japanese culture associated with it, one of the most influential manga of all time. it is essentially a manga equivalent of classic lit, and rightfully so. berserk has some of the most incredible art work I have I have ever seen. berserk is extremely thought out and detailed and it changed a million perspectives on manga as an art form by its existing. set an impossible standard for seinen forevermore. it has immense value in being looked at through this lense alone.

and berserk is dark. and edgy. and a product of its time. berserk is incredibly violent, in all ways that a story can be violent, sometimes smartly, sometimes poorly, rarely apologetically. berserk has possibly every trigger warning in existence, it has an abundance of things that are nasty and inappropriate and should not have been written in the way they are, and should not be celebrated for it the way that it is.

and then, berserk is queer. this shocks many people to find out, because in fact the common consensus is otherwise, and berserk has a horrible cishet-male dominant fandom who cannot comprehend even the basic themes of the story, and its queerness is the antithesis to all that berserk is largely understood to be.

but reyni, berserk is so queer.

berserk is one of the queerest stories I've ever read and i really don't say this lightly. queer readings of classic lit are possibly all I have been doing for the past nine years or so of my life and I count berserk among them. berserk is more queer than alot of stories with ""canonically"" queer rep could ever aspire to be, because in berserk the queerness is the driving force of the plot. everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, in nearly four hundred chapters of this manga, has occurred in consequence of two men being unable to reconcile their (sexual) trauma with their emotions, primarily their feelings towards one another. and berserk is not subtle about this. it is honestly the least subtle thing I can imagine.

berserk is the story of an ex mercenary called guts on his quest for both revenge and personal growth, and more importantly it is the story of a young mans struggle with repression, apathy, anger, deep feeling, and desire. berserk is, in this at least, very clever about utilising guts csa trauma as his reason for succumbing to violence. in general I think berserk if treated the right way, is a great case study for the anatomy of male emotion. berserk is the tale of a mercenary bands falling head first into glory and then doom, it is a high fantasy with incredible cosmology lore behind it, it's about political intrigue, its about religion, it reaches the darkest depths of what fantasy can be and sometimes brings it to the highest; there are parts of it I think you might detest and there are whole arcs I think you would love, there are chapters you would never know were from a seinen because its being intentionally written like a shoujo; you forget the darkness for all the light just as often as the other way around; there's a cursed amulet, and there's even bishies. (also they've got blue haired elves which I think u could appreciate.)

i know this has gotten a little long, but I really wanted to give u a real impression of the wonderful immersive hundred-fold that berserk is to me. I dont think I can ever truly put it down into words. I doubt you'll be surprised to learn of my love of white haired bishounen since you have known me rather some time now, and certainly that's a driving motivator but I earnestly didn't expect to ever get as much out of berserk as I did. it's maybe the most I have ever fallen for a story. ty for ur askkkk don't read it

[jrueships]

guess whos not going in at all this week, actually

[wormy-worm]

ok u know what maybe if the world isn't ready for sunrazer post that means that the world IS ready for Amoveous siblings post. This is Milo and Enho and theyre my DARLINGS and i love them SO MUCH. i have. SOOOOOOOO many thoughts abt them but after the previous post massacre i do not really feel like typing all of that xoxo love <3

[boxwinebaddie]

an uncle nina check in <3

hi team! thanks for sticking around! i know my blog isn't always the most exciting and enriching place in the world in terms of content, but i am very /content/ to have you all here. <3333

i promise, oddly enough, i have A TON of inspiration and ideas for all my weird styles ( if you're curious about anything please lmk! i've been trying to flesh out my aus out lately ), i've just been in a major bummer depression era lately, so it's hard for me to get my asks done and i'm having a hard time committing to finishing my writing. :<

i think it's because of stress and my bipolar, but i am trying to get back on the horse! ( are we all laughing at the idea of me trying to get on a horse? i'd start crying help city girl fail moment for me ) yeehaw!

and while, unfortunately due to the instability ( fabulous legendary iconery ) of my pretty girl popstar personality, i do not know whether i will be answering almost no questions or one million, regardless of that, i just wanted to let you know, i'm still here, still kicking my feet, twirling my hair, cooking...i'm just really trying not to force myself to put out anything i don't like...and only do what makes me truly happy.

however, nothing, my dear sweet e-darlings...

makes me happier than coming home to all of you. <333

so thank you for flooding even the darkest corners of my life with bright light, supporting my phantom fics and being wonderful,

uncle nina xx

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

MAC OHHH MY FUCKING GOD. ONE OF THE EPISODES OF A SHOW EVER HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL AFTER THIS???? HOW???? how long is he going to be FUCKING DEAD FOR!!!! the ashe & mark argument that i felt deep within my soul & miserable on behalf of both parties about them!!! dakotaisms!!! the fucking like. genre conflict of their sillygoofy teen titans shenanigans with a real world where there r men with guns who will simply kill you!! THEYRE WEEKENDING AT BERNIES WILLIAM WISPS PURPLE MORPH SUIT COVERED CORPSE. kicking down your door with a loud bang & then just standing there wild eyed kind of shaking and trembling like a chihuahua

DUUUUDE DUDE DUDE DUDE HEAH. FUCK. s1e19 definitely one of my favorites of all time. i listened to that one during the back half of my shift this afternoon and got to the ashe/mark argument just as i was starting pm checks.... standing in the cramped laundry room in the basement washing my filter socks like

i think about them so much dude. AND THEYRE BOTH RIGHT. WHICH MAKES IT HURT MORE. LIKE. BOTH THEIR SIDES ARE SO REAL. i cannot wait for u to learn more about them pleaseeeee i need 2 talk winters family analysis with you when you get to . certain parts. season 2 is gonna fucking wreck u i know it.

BUT. THEY BALANCE IT OUT WITH THE SILLIES SO VERY FUCKING WELL. GOD. good fucking show dude. good fucking show !!!!!! williams ghost throwing ice cubes at mark while his fucking. rotting corpse sits in the bathtub!!! what thefuck man