#antlered flutter flies

[heartnosekid]

antlered flutter flies (toxonevra superba) | this_mama_fetz on ig

[gilearstimboards]

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Green Stimboard with Animals and Nature

PT: Green Stimboard with Animals and Nature

Made for: @harvsinthestars

I hope you like this one, I took a bit of liberty with the prompt of green.

Credits: x x x | x x x | x x x

[glassartpeasants]

The Park

Tree Demon!Eustass Kidd x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, horror, major character death, you don't die so, slight gore, I did your mom dirty in this, so everyone pour one out for (Y/N)'s mom

a/n: longest thing ever written so far. 32 pages in Google Docs

~~~

“You're part of a greater purpose! A chance to help the gods shine their luck down on our crops!” An elder spoke, walking with a cane along the unbeaten path. Two other men held the squirming woman, ensuring no escape.

“The gods have forgotten us, left us to suffer as we haven’t given them what they truly crave. A mortal woman whose blood they’ll use to water our crops! To feed the starving people of our home.” the elder continued.

Each step taken was closer to the clearing in the trees. A small spot in the deep woods. A place that no one was allowed to go. That the woods could never be entered, as the green leaves and pine were sacred in keeping the gods happy and the crops healthy. So when the leaves fell earlier than the year before and the fields dry, they knew what must be done in order to keep the gods from damning their home. 

Upon finding the clearing, the men dropped down their captive onto the dirt ground. A thud residents through the forest as dust flies up from the impact. The sun beats down as the elder pulls out more rope, giving it to the men who, in turn, loop it around the woman's already bound feet. They tie it tightly before dragging her towards the large tree in the middle of a clearing.

“Tie her to the trunk. She mustn't leave this site for the gods need their mortals to bring order and peace back to our village.” Stepping back, the rugged man turns his back as he moves towards the way he came, ignoring the cries and pleas that the woman let out behind the cloth gag the men had put around her so she wouldn’t wake the village when they’d brought her out to the woods. “Come now, the light soon fades, and we mustn’t witness the gods.”

The two men stand up after properly tying the woman to the trunk of the tree, never sparing a second glance at the trembling woman. She watched as they walked away, leaving her alone to die by the elements. 

When night fell, a cracking sound echoed in the clearing. The pained woman's eyes flutter open and search for the sound. When she felt the rope bound to her feet being tugged, her head snapped down, fearing the worst. That some predator was pulling her towards them to be eaten. She hissed as the rope dug into her skin, while her eyes adjusted to the dark. The stars were her only light as the soaked cloth in her mouth covered her scream of horror.

The large tree that was tied to her feet began to shift. Bark moving against itself and falling to the ground in small chunks. The leaves fall, and moss quickly grows around it like clothing. Its limbs snapping as it morphs into humanoid-looking appendages. Roots pulling from the ground, twisting and turning to stimulate a foot. Or mimic a human foot. Branches began to fall off, leaving them with sharp points like antlers against its head.

Bark began to split and open, sharpening till it was like razors with a black void behind them. Black holes turning into openings as two amber dots simulating irises began to glow. An ear-piercing scream then rang through the forest. Its body jerked and cracked as the woman watched in terror. The rope that once connected them snapped in half, the rope no match for whatever that thing was. The thing then stops before turning to the motionless woman on the ground.

It was taller and larger than anything she’s ever seen, nothing like any of the gods the elders had spoken of. Whatever she was looking at was wrong. Other worldly, not of the earth, as the birds stopped singing and the wind stopped blowing. All was quiet except the beat of her heart as dread and fear took over him as the creature walked over to her.

Once it had finally finished shifting from the stationary tree it had once been, the thing had taken the form of a man, or the best it could be with the it's unnatural skin and humanoid appearance. With a scream of terror, the woman began to squirm and crawl away as the creature outstretched its clawed hand. She let out a cry of pain as the thing grabbed the back of her head, her hair draping between the creature's clawed fingers. Its nails dug into her skin.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she accepted her death. Accepted the fact that the gods had abandoned her and left her to be devoured. Closing her eyes tightly, she waited for the razor-sharp teeth to dig into her flesh. 

~~~

“You're never gonna believe this, Nami! Law stood me up! Again! God, why am I even surprised?” Sitting on a park bench, you look through the snacks and treats you brought for the small picnic you had planned for the two of you. Trees surrounded you as you sat in a clearing in the woods. An old camping spot that your father used to take you and your siblings as kids. You were so excited to show Law ever since he promised you, for sure this time, he’d be here. He wouldn’t let his job call him in on his day off. He’d put you first for once. 

Yet here you sat, alone in the woods, with the sun setting and the wind growing colder. The silence surrounding you seemed endless as you began to pack the picnic you had so carefully planned and crafted for days. The once happy atmosphere was now replaced by a sense of longing and hurt. 

“Can’t believe I’m going through this shit again. Falling for that assholes words for the third time! God, why do I even bother? He doesn’t give a shit about me whenever his job calls! That’s all he cares about.” Tears of rage and betrayal spill down your cheeks as you clench your fists and hook the picnic basket on your arm. Looking down at your phone, you see that the lack of service in the forest had caused the call between you and Nami to disconnect. 

A teardrop or two fell on the screen on your phone, causing you to use your free arm to wipe away the tears, feeling weak and small at falling for his words again. Opening the basket lid, you carefully pack up the food, drinks, and utensils and place them into the wicker carrier. Holding it to your side, you jumble with your phone, trying to push on the flashlight as the once sunny day now turned night in the short amount of time you’ve been in the woods. It only serves to annoy you more. 

“Of course. Now I can’t see shit and i'm walking around this damn forest alone in the pitch black. God, could this day get any worse?” While you’ve been in this forest countless times, the unknown beyond the trees and being so alone had you pulling out Nami’s contact before trying to call her once more. When it rings and she picks up on the third one, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Hey Nami, it’s me. Our call disconnected earlier, so I hope it’s cool if I call you back. It’s getting darker in the forest and I'm trying not to flip out cause I can't see shit in front of me. My car is like 20 minutes away, so I’m hoping you can talk to me while on my way there so I don’t feel so alone in the dark.”

“No problem (Y/N). I’m glad you called me back. Got worried when I couldn't call you back after our line disconnected.” Her words had you letting out a much-needed chuckle. 

“Well, I’m glad I could ease your worries.” Looking ahead, the only thing you see is the gravel trail and the forest that borders each side. The gravel crunches under your shoes, the sound bouncing off the trees and echoing in your ears. Pine, cedar, birch, and even some maple trees have listened as you make your way to the parking lot. Their leaves litter the ground as they look down on you.

“What made you want to go to the park again? Especially a national park that's 25 minutes from your place?”

“One, it's a beautiful place. I’ve been wanting to show him where my parents used to take me and my siblings camping. It’s a place that means a lot to me, and I wanted to share it with him.”

“I thought people couldn’t camp in national parks?”

“Normally you can’t, but I guess this place has an exception. My family always went to campsite 38 since it had a beautiful, huge clearing that was perfect for a family camping trip.”

“Ah, I see. Damn girl, you don’t deserve to get stood up at a place that means so much to you. I hope you give him hell, honestly. And even though I don't wanna say it, but I  told you that he was a selfish dick and you should dump him immediately.”

While you didn’t want to admit it, you have thought about it. Thinking about leaving the man who seemed to love his job more than you did. It hurt like a bitch you coldn’t stand the thought of being alone. You left your family three hours away to be with him. Without him, you wouldn’t even have a place to stay. Cause despite it all, it was he who held you close at night. Him who pressed a gentle kiss to your head when he thought you were asleep. 

Sighing, you continued walking the trail. “Easier said than done. I live at his place. I ended my lease to live with him. Moved away from my hometown and family to go with him when he got a promotion. I’ve given him a lot to be with him, and now to just throw it away?” The thought gave you a sickly feeling. You’ve never been so in love before that you'd leave everything you knew behind.

“I’m sorry (Y/N). I know it’s probably hard. But think about the long run. Would you like to be in second place in a job for the rest of your life? Or would you rather be someone's first for everything?”

“You're right, and I hate it. I love him so much, but it feels like he doesn’t love me like I love him.” Feeling tears threatening to fall harder, you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and take a breath.

“Sometimes you love someone, you gotta let them go.”

“Maybe if I listen to the passengers, it might help.” You and Nami chuckle despite the sad smile gracing your lips. “Give me some courage.”

“Speaking of courage, how are you faring out there? I know it’s dark in the city, so I can’t imagine how dark it is in the forest when it doesn’t have street lights like the city.” 

“I’ve been in these woods for years. My father would always take us here, and I almost know this place like the back of my hand. If I remember correctly, there should be a water well in 20 steps from here.” Upon turning on your phone flashlight, and unshockingly, only a foot or two away was a water well next to two trees. “Boom, water well.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact it’s darker than hell. I would be running on that gravel trail. Haven’t you seen the movies? This is literally how you get killed.”

“I'm only 15 minutes away from my car, calm down. If anyone were to die first in a horror movie, it’d be you.” A laugh escapes your lips as you hear Nami gasp from the other side. You can only roll your eyes with a smile as she rants to defend herself.

“You really need to start taking your protection seriously, though. There are crazies out there in this day and age.”

“Nami, please, I’m fine! I can kick ass with the multiple forks and knives i have in my picnic basket.” You say with a smirk as your hand moves into the picnic basket, grabbing one of the knives you brought with you to cut sandwiches. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

SNAP

Your body jerked to a stop as your head whips 180 degrees, as the sound of a twig breaking had your heart stopping and lumping in your throat. Shining the light of your phone behind you, your met with nothing. 

The gravel trail you just walked on, looking infinitely into the dark as your phone light only goes so far. Yet you couldn’t see any branches, nor did you feel yourself stepping on one. Perhaps there was an animal around?

“Probably just a raccoon.” Whispering to yourself, you turn back around and continue on your journey. You were curious to search to figure out what caused the noise, but decided against it. After all, you knew this place almost like a second home. There shouldn’t be anything that could hurt you. Hell, you haven’t even heard of a bear even being sighted near the campsites. 

“Hey! Did you hear me?!”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, Nami, got distracted. What do you need?” Tearing your gaze from the gloomy forest, you face your phone, looking down at it. 

“I’ve got to go see my sister. She’s not feeling well recently, and I wanna drop by and give her some stuff to help her feel better.”

“Ah, okay!"

"Be safe, alright? Text me when you get home, cause I don’t want you getting lost and dying out there.”

“Don’t worry, Nami, I’ll be okay. I’ll even text you and send you a video, alright? How does that sound?”

“Good, stay safe (Y/N) and good night.”

“Good night, Nami.” Turning off the call, you continue to use your phone as a flashlight so you can walk along the gravel trail.

As you walk down the trail, it’s then that you notice how truly quiet the forest is now that you and Nami are no longer talking. The only sound was your feet crunching against the rocks. No rustling leaves, crickets, or the skittering of critters. Just silence. All sorts of trees, from pine to maple, passed the vast abyss. Your only light is the moonlight if you didn't count your phone. And even that light was fleeting in the overpowering darkness.

Subconsciously, you began to walk faster. An unknown feeling overwhelms you. It could just be some owls who were more than willing to watch you walk along the lonely trail. The creature replacing what would be campers, as every site you passed by was empty. You knew it would be, as the ranger told you you’d be the only one at the park, that this weekend was absolutely deserted. 

So as you passed by the trees, each empty campsite, you felt yourself running just a bit faster. Now that night had taken root. It fully sets in just how lonely it was, even if you’ve camped here every year since you were eight.

It just felt different this time, cause now there weren’t children's giggles, dancing flames of a campfire, or the boisterous words of your father and his stories. Stories of monsters and legends in the woods. Only for the purpose of scaring you and your siblings. Each story seemed embedded in your brain as you feel your feet pick up the pace in a rush.  Gravel spraying behind you as you began to run. At the same time, not many of the stories got to you now that you were fully grown. But there was one, just one, that seemed to worm its way into your brain. Making anxiety skyrocket and your heart beat a little too fast as you caught your eyes trying to scan the dark forest and barely lit trail in front of you.

Your mother seemed to always hate this story. When you were young, you didn’t know why. While it was scary, your mom seemed even more scared than you, a mere child. It took growing up and learning something about your mother to understand why it was so horrifying.

“Really, Patrick? This story again? You tell it every time we're out here…” Your mother’s voice comes across the campsite as she sits on a rock near the fire, looking at your father, who’s crouched down starting the fire. A big grin on his face as he lets out a chuckle. 

“Oh, Annabella, this is the best one! The true story!” Hearing your father's words, you and your siblings rush up to your father, eyes wide. Your father soaked up the attention he brought upon himself. “A true story about this campsite, even!”

“Wow, really?! Come on, dad, tell us! Tell us!” Jumping up and down, you and your siblings chant pleas to hear the tale. The prospect of a true horror story of the place you’d call your second home.

“Alright! Gather round, munchkins, and listen to the infamous tale of ‘The Monster of Sabaody’!” Your father exclaimed in an over-the-top manner, wiggling his fingers in a spooky manner.

“Long ago, when your mom and I were tots, this place was established to what it is today! There were tons of workers participating in making this. Rangers, construction workers, environmentalists, and everything under the sun. But one day, one of the rangers went missing. A young lady fresh out of training, and it was her first day on the job. She was last seen doing her rounds. The next day, another woman, this time a cop who was looking for the girl before.”

“Now, with those two women missing and no trace of either of them, concern grew about wild animals, but with how much money they poured into the park, they still went on with construction. Still wanting to keep the park running. And for a year after the women went missing, no one else did. No incidents, reports, or anything.” Your father gains an uneasy grin as you can hear your mother shuffle on the rock while maneuvering to hug herself as if it were cold. 

“Until the anniversary of the women's disappearance that night, when the park was full of families, a chill ran over the trees. Something was wrong. And soon, when the sun rose, the campers and rangers discovered something terrifying. Something gut-wrenching.”

“A camper belonging to a newlywed couple had been broken into. The whole thing was turned upside down, a cluttered mess. When entering the ‘master bedroom’, there was a husband dead, or what was left of him. But the wife was nowhere to be found. The commotion was enough to make civilians flee the park, except for a few people. One of them was a female hiker. She didn’t care that there had been a brutal crime so close to her. She was determined to finish her hike, so she stayed.”

“Darling, it’s getting late and we don’t want to scare the kids-”

“Nonsense! What’s camping without scary stories?” You and your siblings cheer, wanting to hear the rest of the story. With a smirk on your father's face, he turns to you and your siblings and continues the tale.

“When the next day came, there wasn’t a sign of the female hiker; She didn’t log out on the trail paper, none of the rest of the campers around claimed to have even seen her leave the campsite. Once more, they searched the woods, looking for the wife and hiker. Every tree, rock, log, and cave, nothing was left untouched or unexplored. Yet just as the women before them, no sign. Again, two more missing women which left the only one-year park with four missing women. And as each year passed, it wasn’t until the third year that the disappearances just stopped. No more missing women, nothing. No one was ever found or held responsible.” Jumping up, your mother moved quickly into the tent without a word. It didn’t take a genius to know he was upset, but your father didn’t seem to care as he continued. Telling all of your siblings more scary stories that had you staying up all night scared shitless.

When you were 19, you were finally told about why your mother hated the story so much. Why did she barely hold together as your father told the story each and every year? Thanks to your mother and your curious nature. The real, more detailed version was much more horrific and depressing, as your mom’s story only solidifies your fear at just how close the story was to you.

“Hey, mom, why did dad’s old campfire story scare you? I mean it can’t be real. Wouldn’t the park be shut down if eight women went missing?” Sitting down on the couch with your mother in her chair, a book in her lap, with steaming tea in a cup beside her, like so many times before. Except upon hearing your question, you could see a look of pain and fear. The look of a pain that never healed. 

“Mom? Are you okay? You look pale.” Leaning forward, you put your hand on her shoulder as you furrow your brows. 

“He doesn’t know. Your father…how could I tell him?” Your mother's lips quivered before she grabbed your hand and held it tight.

“When I was 6 years old. I went to the campsite with my mom and dad. My father was like yours; he didn’t really believe or care if it was true. So on the park's birthday, my father took me and my mom there. Our vacation fell on the anniversary of those poor women's deaths. We had bought a used trailer that year that we were going to use. The door didn’t lock, and my dad didn’t care.” Squeezing your hand, she takes a shaky breath. “The first day was great. We played at the playground, swam in the beautiful lake, ate s'mores, and they even let me sleep in the bed with them. But the second night…” An almost silent sob leaves your mom's lips as she holds your hand even tighter before continuing.

“I was sleeping in the small bed area that was above the dining table; it even had a window where I could see the outside. It was high enough that my parents were worried I’d fall and get hurt. I had to beg them to let me. I was so happy when they finally said yes that I immediately got ready for bed and snuggled in.”

“My mother left the camper to go use the restroom that was three campsites down since the bathroom in the camper didn’t work. She said she’d be back. My father nodded to her as he thought I was already asleep. He moved to grab his pajamas and closed the door. As he was pulling his shirt over his head, the camper door opened up. The cold air hit my covered form, making me freeze. I turned a bit, looking outside the window to see if my mom was back already, but what I saw wasn’t my mom. Instead of the soft smile my mom always wore, it was this…thing. It was huge as it stuck its large arm into the trailer.”

“I could hear the breathless grunt from my father as it pulled its arm out of the trailer, my father’s head clutched tightly in his grasp. Before I could call out for my father, I watched as it began to slam my father onto the ground. One. Two. Three. The sickening sound of bones hitting the dirt and shattering, I can’t ever forget.” Your mother sniffled as she trembled. “I still hear it in my dreams.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” Confused, you put your other hand on hers. Rubbing her shoulder and scooting closer to her.

“It didn’t see me. That or it didn’t care. Either way, I watched in horror as my father was quickly turning into nothing but bloody pulp in the dirt. The man who was my everything, who taught me how to ride a bike, was getting killed by this thing. I couldn’t even tell what it was as it just looked like a shadow. The fire outside not even giving me a full picture.”

Your eyes widen as you feel your heartbreak. Never have you seen your mother like this, never did you think you would. Her tears were like acid on your skin as you couldn’t imagine the pain, watching her father be brutally murdered in front of her. Yet, even as she spoke, you couldn’t help but think about what she meant by ‘think’. Was there some monster that killed him rather than some perp who attacked him from behind? That it was dark and foggy on the night it happened, right? There wasn’t any explanation for why she was so insistent on there being a monster. Monsters aren’t real, right?

“Holy shit mom…I never knew. Why-”

“Then it stopped. The thing stopped slamming my father…what was left of him…into the ground.” Your mother clung to you, almost as if she was going to collapse from how hard she had been crying. “I felt my world crumbling when I saw my mom coming back, even having firewood in her arms. Her smile was as bright as she thought she’d come back to us.”

“That thing turned its head, whatever it was. I could hear snapping and cracking as the thing stood to its full height. It was ginormous, and I watched as it moved and hid into the darkness, watching as my mom walked into the camp. Once she saw my father, she ran to the camper. Ran to see me, to make sure I was okay. But before she could make it to the door, I saw the same hand that had been used to bash my father into the ground grab her from above. Like he was behind the camper. The last thing I heard was a muffled scream and the sound of monstrous footsteps.” Your mom hugged you tight, almost suffocating as she held you over the arm of the chair she sat in. “I never saw her again.”

You quickly return her hug as you can feel how drenched your shoulder is from all your mom's tears. Years' worth of tears being unloaded on your shoulder. You pat her on the back, trying to console her as best as you could. “Why didn’t you tell Dad? I’m sure he wouldn’t have told the story.” Knowing the truth was overbearing. The knowledge that the people in your father's favorite campfire story were someone of your own flesh and blood.

“It was all my fault…if I had just warned my dad…my mom…”

“No, mom, listen, it’s not your fault. It was never your fault. What could you have done? You were only six. It would’ve hurt you, too. So please, don’t blame yourself, mom.”

“I don’t even know what happened to my mom. I never saw her again. Never even saw a trace of her.” Gripping you tighter, your mother held you as if you’d disappear.

“It’s okay, mom. I’m here, cry all you need.”

Apparently, your mother never got therapy for it since right after she was taken in, she was put in the foster care system. She didn’t have anyone to take her in or care for her. You're the first person she's ever told about what she’s witnessed. The nightmare that plagued her every night.

She never told your father, fearing he wouldn’t believe her. That he’d brush her off just like everyone else, and she didn’t think she could handle it. And based on the blubbering, mess she was when she told you everything, you understood her fear. The nightmarish reality she experienced so young. Seeing her father murdered in real time and not being able to do anything, then her mother being abducted in front of her is something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy.

And now, it all came together. Those other women, your grandmother and grandfather, always haunted your mom even more every time your father told the story to you and your siblings. Over and over and over again.

“Mom, Dad says that incident happened before you were both born. Why would he say that?” Looking at her with gentle eyes. 

“He doesn’t know the full timeline. Your father's a storyteller, not one for research as much as it hurts.” She answered with a sniffle.

“Oh, mom.” Pulling her into a hug, you rub her back in soothing circles. The two of you swaying gently back and forth. “You should’ve said something to him. Dad loves you. I’m sure he’d understand.”

“Easier said than done, darling.” She whispers shakily. Nodding, you simply let her cling to you and weep.

Memories of your mom's story, the accounts of the other missing women play in your mind. What had happened to those women, and where did the perpetrator go? Did they ever catch the person responsible? If not, it’d explain a lot more about your mother's hesitance to tell your father even more. But what if it was simply a coincidence? After all, there was only one confirmed death, your grandfather. Perhaps they were just missing people. People go missing in National forests all the time. Not to mention, technology wasn’t as good as it is now.

Your mind runs as your legs burn from running down the gravel trail. The unsteady ground has you slightly slipping as you kick up small rocks with each panicked step. The phone in your hand didn’t mean a thing since you couldn’t hold it straight, which seemed like an impossible task as your mind was in flight mode. 

Yet as the trail seemed endless, you could see the small opening to the parking lot. The sound of your ragged breath echoed around you as your lungs burned. Shoving your hand into your pocket, you pull out your car keys. You could hear your car roaring to life, giving you more hope as you kicked in the last burst of energy you could muster, pushing through the burning of your lungs and legs. 

Bursting through the trail's entrance, you dash to your car, throwing open the door and slamming it shut. Not forgetting to look at it before putting your seatbelt on.

Your eyes shot to the forest in front of you as your headlights shone the first 10-15 feet ahead of your car. The once pitch black forest now on display for your viewing displeasure. Yet as you look across the now illuminated fauna, you catch yourself looking for the thing your mother described to you, but your rational mind knew better. There was nothing staring back at you. Only empty forest as far as your headlights showed.

Shaking your head, you just peel out of the park's parking lot. Wanting to go home and just put this experience behind you. To ignore it all. Cause you were simply overreacting. Whoever that freak was all those years ago would either be dead or too old to do anything to you.

~~~

Lying in your bed next to your boyfriend, you stare at the ceiling, confused and restless. No amount of counting sheep or cuddling up to Law had your eyelids feeling heavy. Nothing seemed to work, so you're stuck imagining and wondering. There must be real answers, right? More information out there about those missing women, your grandparents. Something to ease your racing mind.

Quickly sitting up, you grab your computer and begin to research the park and your mother's testimony of your grandma's disappearance and your grandfather's murder. Entering the golden question, you're met with newspaper articles, history sources, and surprisingly so many others. Names of women pile up on the computer screen. PDFs of old newspapers, certificates, and records also show up, but one seemed to stand out from the rest.

‘Local Mom Gone Missing! No Trace Found!’

Clicking on the link, you were brought to another PDF of an old newspaper article. And to your dismay or delight, it’s an article about the violent murder of your grandparents. Telling you how they found each individual. Well, how they found your grandfather, and it was just as gory to read the passage, that it made you sick to your stomach. Skipping over it, you try to continue reading the rest of the article. Yet upon getting to a certain passage, your met with what you recognize as your mom's testimony from when she was a child. A flicker of unease creeps along your skin as you read. The fact that they interviewed a small child only hours after her parents's murder didn’t sit right with you. Even if they were doing it to catch the killer. 

Not wanting to read it anymore, you move to look at another article, this time you see one that doesn’t seem to make sense with the rest of them. It was a paper about the history of the park from before it was made into said park. While it was another PDF, it seems that it came from a book about the history of the entire area, not just the park. Furrowing your brows, you click on it, feeling a weird urge to check it.

‘Sabaody National Park is a beautiful place with mountains, trails, and gorgeous fauna that biologists would die for! But with each beautiful view comes a dark past that can’t be ignored. Especially with the surrounding town growing bigger and bigger.’

‘Discovered evidence and stories from back before the world government was established have shown stories of human sacrifices and legends of monsters roaming the dark trees. Archaeologists have unearthed pottery shards after construction for a hospital started. Images and patterns were painted onto the hardened clay.’

‘There were multiple figures on each shard, but there was one figure that seemed to be an object of fear for the people who lived here before. When they searched around the site more and the surrounding area, a researcher found a book in the local library that had given more information about times after the world government was established.’

Upon looking more into the PDF, you're met with a picture of a drawing of people walking through the woods, with them holding people above their heads. Unease settled in your stomach as you looked at them deeply. It was something that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. You didn’t know why, but it felt like someone was tugging at your soul as you looked at the bound person that was being carried into the forest. 

Looking at it a little more, you get a sick feeling in your stomach, so you just decide to move along with the article, but as you scroll down, your computer refuses to load the rest of the PDF. Your nose twitches as you load the page once, twice, three times, and wait 5 minutes each, you give in that it's not going to work. So you simply exit the window and go to continue your search elsewhere. 

After what felt like hours, you run a hand through your hair, grumbling a curse as you close your laptop. Each article and link was the same thing, always beating around the bush or never telling you anything about what you read the first time. 

Putting your laptop back in its case and into your nightstand shelf, you lie back down next to Law. The blankets curled around the two of you as you watched him peacefully sleep. Almost not if he had a care in the world, despite knowing how much of a workaholic he truly is. Yet he manages to sleep while you're stuck lying awake with knowledge that plagues you.

Sighing, you just close your eyes and hope that maybe if you imagine yourself sleeping, you’d be able to.

~~~

The street seemed endless, no matter how many steps you took, it felt as if you were going in circles. Seeing the same buildings over and over again. Your eyes straight ahead, never leaving in front of you.

SNAP

The snap of something behind you had your eyes widening, yet your feet never stopped moving. Still carrying you along the streets. The one tense atmosphere now growing unsettling as leaves rustled behind you, despite your passing, no trees or fallen leaves. Your body desperately tried to stop, yet you kept going, never able to turn your head to see behind you. 

Turning a corner, you're still unable to see things out of your peripheral vision. It could also be due to the fact that no,w instead of the city streets, you were back on the gravel trail. Trees surrounded you as, instead of street lights, the moon was now your only light source through the dense forest. Your boots crunched against the gravel as the rustle of leaves only grew louder as the wind whipped at the trees. The once singular sound now everywhere. 

Your feet carried you till you were at the campsite you were at only hours prior. The same one you and your family would take and use as a child. It looked occupied since you could see the shadows of people inside on the trees. The fire crackled as you smelled the scent of it so clearly. The familiar red tent, your parents slept in, while you and your siblings slept in the bigger black tent.

You stood there in silence, watching, as the fire finally smoldered out. The cracking now gone, bringing back the silence of rustling leaves, yet you still didn’t move. It was like a million-ton weight was connected to your feet.

Despite there now being nothing around the big campsite, a feeling of fear crept down your spine. Something was wrong, something wasn’t right about it all. Like, there was something eating at the back of your mind. That something was going to happen before you knew it.

And then it did.

Your blood ran cold as you witnessed this black mass emerge from the woods. The sound of crunching leaves, snapping branches, and a silent hum that seemed to embed itself in your brain.

It was taller than anything you’ve ever seen, practically towering over your father's truck as it crept out of the trees. Despite it being huge, it didn’t make a single sound except for the small rustle of leaves like a rabbit. No thunderous footsteps or how the earth should’ve shook as it walked. 

The only distinguishable feature was two amber ‘eyes’ that glowed like its own fire. It stared at the thin fabric of your parents' tent, studying it like it had never seen anything before. Tapping it with its claws. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you felt goosebumps cover your skin.

The sound of shredding fabric echoed in your ears as you watched in horror as the creature ripped into the tent. Reaching in, the creature ripped it open more before leaning down to look into it. You watch as it pulls out what seems to be your father's shirt. It looked at it before it let out a growl and shredded the cloth into millions of pieces. The fire in its eyes burned brighter than ever with a rage. 

The monster stopped moving for a second before it snapped its neck towards you with the sound of a breaking bone. A silent curse left your lips as you felt the blood in your body turning cold. It stared at you, a silent standoff, before the horrifically shaped creature rushed at you at inhuman speed.

No sound left your lips as you opened your mouth to scream as the black mass stretched out its large arms and jumped at you, its claws just about to grab you.

With a horrified scream and a cold sweat, you sit up in bed. Panting and shaking, you look around, seeing that instead of the forest, you're in the safety of your shared bedroom. Looking to the side, you notice that Law is still sleeping next to you, out cold from a stressful day at the hospital. Wiping the sweat from your brow, your body trembles in fear. 

You’ve never felt like this before. Never been filled with such a gut-wrenching fear in your life. And it was all over a dream that was playing off something you were looking into just because of some dumbass’s who wandered too far away from camp and your mothers childhood trauma.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you stand up and slowly make your way to the kitchen. Perhaps getting some water and taking a magnesium pill would help you go back to sleep. Hopefully, a dreamless sleep. Yet, as you walked through the house, it felt as if you were being watched or followed almost. And even though the blinds were down and the curtains were closed, you still kept looking over your shoulder. You were home, so far away from the park. The doors and windows were locked, your apartment had a locked entry so no intruders could ever get in, so why were there goosebumps plaguing your skin and chills running up your spine?

Looking out the living room window just for a quick peace of mind, you can see how the stars were invisible from the light pollution. The moon, still full, looked back down at you through the blinds. Reminding you of your dream and the incident only hours earlier. Looking towards the entrance of your apartment building and the streets that surround it, you're met with nothing. Only empty streets and flickering lamps, not even a single sign of life in sight. Yet in the distance, you could see the tall trees of the park. The eerie feeling almost overwhelming because as you stared, you feared something you couldn’t see was staring back at you.

~~~

“Something's wrong. You look like you haven't slept and are picking at your food.” Snapping your head up, you're met with Law’s eyes staring back at you with that familiar scan he does to his patients at the hospital. The breakfast on your plate uneaten, instead, scattered all over the plate. 

“Just not hungry.” You murmur as you continue to fiddle with the eggs on your plate.

“Liar.” Grumbling, you ran a hand over your face. Why the hell did he want to know so bad? Not to mention how could you even explain how your mind rushed 100 miles an second that didn’t make you sound crazy?

“You’ve been acting weird since you came back from the park yesterday. Is this about me canceling at the last minute? I said I was sorry and that I’d make it up to you.”

“I know you did. It’s something else.” You could feel your lip twitch when you remember the original reason you were pissed in the first place. So now you were annoyed, pissed off, freaked out and wanting to scream.

“It’s nothing.” Standing up from the table, you grab your food and put some foil on it. “I’ll save this for later after work.” Opening the fridge, you carefully place your plate among the scattered groceries before shutting it closed. There was a tense silence between Law and you before his voice rang in your ears, causing your lip to twitch once more.

“If it means that much to you, we can go to the park after I’m off work. I get off at 8 pm, so I’ll meet you at the park.” The sigh that left his lips made you want to decline. If he was going to be like this, why bother taking him and dealing with him, most likely complaining about a spot that means so much to you?

“Fine. I’ll meet you at the park. Campsite 38 and you’ll find a large dirt road and a gravel trail to get to the parking lot, and signs that’ll give you directions along with a ranger to help you, probably. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.”

With so little words, you and Law go your separate ways, getting ready for both your respective jobs. You watched Law put his scrubs on, along with you putting on your uniform. Grabbing your own jacket, you put it on before putting on your shoes and rushing out the door, not wanting to be late.

~~~

As you walked down the gravel trail towards the campsite, your mind wandered with each step. Was this a good idea? Were you just upset that Law didn’t come with you the first time that you would do anything for him to come with you now, even if it didn’t feel the same as it used to anymore? Sure, you knew about your mom's story for a while, but it didn’t change your feelings about the place you’d call your second home. 

Well, what you used to call your second home.

Before this, you’ve brought all your friends and such to this campsite, camping and hanging out. Just having a little girls' trip before you all go back to your s/o. Countless times you’ve been here as an adult, even showing up with your siblings for old times' sake. So why now did it not feel right to be here?

Sighing in exasperation, you finally make it to campsite 38. The large clearing almost feels like a stage. You walk towards the picnic table that sits close to the treeline. The wood of the structure was covered in leaves and dead pine needles that covered most of the forest floor.

With a quick, large breath and a swipe of the arm, most, if not all, the debris was gone. You quickly put the picnic basket that you had remade on the table; you even grabbed the classic red and white plaid tablecloth to put on first. If you were gonna do this, at least you might as well make it like your parents had done.

When you finished setting it all up, you sat down on your side as you turned on your phone, looking at the time. 

8:10 pm

A frown etched on your face upon seeing it. When you first got to the park, it was 7:30, and since it took twenty minutes to walk to the campsite, you would’ve gotten there at 7:50-7:55. And since Law got off at 8, he should've been here by now since the hospital was only 5 minutes away. 

“Ugh, god i'm so stressed that I can’t even do math right.” He’d be here at 8:20 pm or a few minutes later. If it took you twenty minutes to even get to the campsite and you knew where you were going, then no doubt it’d take Law a bit longer too. That is, if he swallowed his pride and asked a ranger to help him.

You run both your hands along your face as you reach into the picnic basket and grab some grapes to eat. Plopping one in your mouth, you simply stare at the trees around you. Your mom's story and the dream you had last night ran through your mind.

“It couldn’t be real, could it? No, monsters like that don’t exist. She probably just blanked it out because of the trauma.” Leaning your head on your hand, you question everything. While you believed your mom in what happened, how could someone just abduct someone and no one hear a scream? How could no one have heard the pounding or beating of her father when he was ‘pounded into the ground’? There is no way that anyone wouldn’t have heard the sound of breaking bones and thuds of flesh against dirt. 

No doubt that your nightmare must have been influenced by your mother's story and those shattered pottery pieces that were photographed. Monsters weren’t real. It was just some sick fuck who killed your grandparents and was never caught. 

~~~

Looking down at your phone once again, you feel your eyes water and your lip stinging between your teeth. You slam your phone down on the table before covering your eyes with your hands. Tears slip past your fingers and down your hands. Hiccups and weeps echo through the campsite. Each sound only makes your heart hurt more as time flashes behind your eyelids. 

9 pm.

Of course, why are you even surprised? How could he lie to your face again? Get your hopes up and crush them the same day? What have you done for him to blow you off so easily? Did you piss him off? Are you doing something wrong constantly that he hates?

Slamming your tear-soaked hands on the table, you shoot up from your seat. Gritting your teeth, you roughly began shoving the stuff you’d packed into the picnic basket. Not caring if anything got smashed or ripped. What was the point anyway? You’d be the only one to eat them since half the time, Law forgot to even eat the lunches you’ve packed him! Forgot or didn’t want to, it was a fight you always had with your mind. He’d tell you he’d forget, but his actions make you think he just doesn’t want to. If so, he could at least be a man and tell you.

Picking up the basket aggressively, you stomp away from the picnic table, your phone still clutched tightly in your hands as you point it down the trail. It shook with each step you took, as you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking with the sadness and anger. Tears slipping down your cheeks before hitting the ground. Your sniffling echoes through the trees as you can’t help how your mind and heart wants to drive far away and never look back. Go home and have your mom hold you while you cry at the unfairness of it all.

Yet, as you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you get the notification of a battery at 5%. Frustration fills you again as once more, there was just another reason this week couldn’t get any shitter. Not only were you standing up, AGAIN, but you were about to be walking in pitch black forest. And if those YouTube videos you watch in your free time taught you anything, it’s that you should never walk in the dark when in a forest. That's how you get lost and or hurt.

The gravel crunches against your feet as your lip trembles and your head begins to ache. You can even get a good cry in without having a headache!

“This is the last time Law does this shit to me.” Gritting your teeth, you shake with rage as while the tears stopped flowing, your anger still burned bright. No way you could do this anymore. You don’t think your heart can take the constant disappointment and lies. 

Turning the corner on the trail, you see the gravel scattered like a small explosion had taken place. Looking around, you furrow your brows as you continue forward. After all, it was the only way to get back to your car.

Slowly, you approach the crater, noting how there was gravel all over the place off the trail. With the light of your phone getting dimmer, you crouch down to see better. Upon inspection, you notice a colorful mess on the side in a bush. Reaching out, you pull the object away from the leaves. To your surprise, it's a bouquet of flowers. Your favorite flowers, to be specific.

Furrowing your brows, you bring it closer. How in the world did this get out here? It looked like it was even bought today. You didn’t see it when you walked in earlier, and there certainly wasn’t a crater in the ground either.

Standing up, you try to figure out what the hell caused this. Where could it be or what could it be? You look down at your phone percentage, 3%. Curiosity ate at you, but your common sense told you to keep walking, that you didn’t have the time to play explorer.

Trusting your gut, you continue moving. The flowers still in your hand. After all, they were still good, so why put them to waste? They’d have a good home at the apartment that you unfortunately shared with your asshole boyfriend. 

“At least you smell nice.” You murmur to yourself as you finally catch a light in the distance. Finally, you're close to the parking lot. Pulling out your keys, you then begin to carefully jog to the light.

As you get closer to the light, you notice that your car isn’t the only one in the parking lot. No, there's yours and Laws.

You turn your head all around, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who just now showed up. Walking towards his car, you notice it’s not warm. Law always has it on warm cause he’s always so cold. So if it’s not warm, then it's been here awhile, but how could that be: You haven’t even seen any sight of him at all. Not even a sign-

A light bulb turns on in your head as the flowers in your hand suddenly felt like they're one ton. Your eyes slowly float down as you grip the flowers. Putting the picnic basket on Law's car hood, you bring the flowers closer. The fauna still feeling so heavy.

As you examine the bouquet, the words of your favorite florist look back at you. It was a small shop that not many knew in the downtown area of the city. It’s where you met Law even.

Your heart sinks in your chest as you whip around and face the trail you just left. Was Law in there? How long has he been in there? Did this mean he came after all? And he even bought you your favorite flowers from your favorite florist? If so, where was he? Was he lost? Is he okay? A million questions run through your head.

Running towards the trail, you feel your heart beating harshly in your chest. The flowering gripped tightly in your hand, you begin to call out to Law as guilt starts to eat at you.

He really did show up, he really kept his promise, and you doubted him. It felt as if someone was gripping your heart in a death grip as you ran through the gravel. Your phone light now dead, yet you still run, determined to find Law even if it’s in the dark.

“Law! Law! Where are you?! Are you here?! Please! Say something!” The sound of your pleas rings through your ears as your head constantly snaps side to side, desperate to find Law. Or even a small thing-

The crater!

That's where you found the flowers! He must be near there! What if he fell and knocked himself out, and that's what caused the crater! And if that's the case, then you must’ve even walked past him! What if he was seriously hurt?!

You continue calling out his name as you run even faster to the indent. Each step kicks up gravel. The moonlight is your only guide as your lungs burn.

When you finally did reach the indent, you called out louder. Hell, you even strayed from the trail as you pushed your way through bushes and small trees. The light of the moon does little to help you as you only grow more stressed, almost to the point of tears. Tears of fear or stress were your only guesses as the desperation to find Law grew worse with each minute.

Taking a step forward, you trip over a fallen tree, the decaying log swallowing your foot and making you fall flat on your face. Moss and leaves cushion your fall as you drop the flowers and your phone.

“Shit! Shit! Where is it?!” Your hands constantly slam on the ground constantly. If you lost your phone you were screwed! It had almost your entire life on it, and it had 2% left on it! You could use it at least to find Law! Or at least try!

When your hands skimmed the ground, you felt a weird substance covering your hands. “Ugh, great…” You complain as you try to brush it off somewhere else. “Gross.” Continuing your search, you move around the dirt, yet you still feel your knees and hands getting covered in the mucky substance. 

While constantly searching, your hand touches something that feels a lot like cloth. Furrowing your brows, you go to bring it closer to your face to see, only to realize that it was attached to something. No, not something, someone. Unease settles in your stomach with each second. Something wasn’t right here.

“Law?” A cracked whisper left your throat as you looked down more at the ground. Narrowing your eyes, you tug on the cloth once more, and still it goes unmoving. You crawl over a bit more to where the source of the cloth was. Determined to try and understand what you weren’t seeing. Both your hands go towards the cloth, slowly but surely, trying to pinpoint what's holding it down. 

Your hands move more around the bulky cloth before you finally manage to find what you believe is the root of the weight. Yet as you grab it, the familiar sounds of Law’s ringtone echoes around the leaves and trees. Snapping your head, you see the glow of a phone under some leaves. Not wasting a second, you quickly grab it and you're met with the familiar lock screen of you and Law hugging one another. Something you made him put as his lock screen.

Quickly, you roll down the notification bar and turn on the flashlight, now illuminating the area around you. Looking up from the phone, your eyes go wide as ablood-curdlingg scream leaves your throat as you quickly scurry back, dropping the phone to your side as you cover your mouth in horror.

Tears pour down your face as the realization of what you were seeing washes over you. The cloth you had spent feeling was the denim of those jeans that Law loved so much. It even had the spots on them that you always thought were so cute. But now, they were covered in the dark muck of mud and another substance that you didn’t dare name. 

You look down at your body and you feel bile rising in your throat as you see that your own jeans and shirt were covered in reddish brown. The smell of something metallic finally hits your nose. Snatching up the fallen phone, you quickly aim it at the sight in front of you. Your eyes unable to look at it as the words of your mother run through your mind. 

 ‘...I watched as it began to slam my father onto the ground. One. Two. Three. The sickening sound of bones hitting the dirt and shattering, I can’t ever forget…I watched in horror as my father was quickly turning into nothing but bloody pulp in the dirt…’

The exact image your mother described of her own father was the one you were looking at now. Except this time, it was right in front of you and to the man you loved.

“No…this can’t be happening.” Reaching out your hand tentatively, you question if you actually had the guts to touch what once was your boyfriend. Tears poured down your face as horror and heartbreak fought each other side by side. One telling you to run as fast as you can, while the other asks you to stay by his side. To not leave him to whatever creature had done this to him.

You quickly remember Law’s phone and instantly pick it up. Turning on the device, you input the emergency number as your eyes remain trained on Law. Or what was left of him.

“Hello (---), what’s your emergency?”

“My boyfriend's just been murdered…” Whispering into the phone, you switch your glances every which way. Scared that something might be listening. Your body trembles in fear as you can't find the strength to move or stand at all.

“Okay, dear, can you tell me your address? I’ll send the cops right away. Are you safe right now?”

“I don’t know…we were supposed to meet up in Sabaody Park for a picnic, but he never showed, so-so I thought he forgot. But-But…” Globs of tears stream down your face as small hiccups erupt from your throat. Guilt ate you alive as the smell of metal and moss hit your nose. Only an hour ago, you were cursing his name for not showing up, for not keeping his promise. 

“You're in Saboady National Park? Is there any way you could be more specific? I want the cops to help you as fast as we can.” The responder asked, the sound of her worried voice making your head spin.

“I’m on the trail around campsite fifteen. I’m a little off the trail.” Each word felt like nails scratching your throat as your mind refused to comprehend the situation you're in. Sitting in the dirt in the pitch black calling (---) cause you found your boyfriend's dead body. 

“Okay. Can you stay on the phone for me? I want to make sure you're safe and sound.” Even though they couldn’t see you, you nod to the responder.

“Yeah…yeah, I can.” Looking down at your own blood-drenched clothes, you felt disgusting. Blood and dirt covered your hands and knees. The once pristine clothing is now nothing but a mess. 

SNAP

Your blood freezes cold as the sound of a big step and a breaking twig echoes in the trees. There wasn’t anything you could see. And that scared the fuck out of you. Your fight or flight kicked in, and just as you were speaking on the phone on the ground, bawling your eyes out, you were now doing the same thing, except running. Tears fly down your face as you run back to the parking lot. The light so far in the distance, seemingly as far as the moon.

Holding the phone tightly, you look over your shoulder, needing to know what was behind you. But there was nothing. Just pitch black. Same with what's in front of you. All you can think of is using the sound of gravel to help keep you on the trail. You were too afraid to leave the phone for even a moment, worried that you’d lose it the moment it left your ear.

"What’s happening? Is someone chasing you?” The operator asks in concern as you hear typing on the keyboard from the other side.

“I heard something-” the gravel gives way under your feet, causing you to trip, landing harshly against the rocky terrain. Your head hits the rocks, and your vision blurs. A small trickle of blood slips down your eyebrow as your eyes scan for the phone. The glowing light in front of you, yet as you reach out to grab it, you miss, getting a handful of rocks. You keep reaching out, yet missing the phone every time. Once your vision clears, you see the phone in front of you. The light is doing nothing to shine in the area around you. Reaching out once more, you go to grab the phone as you push yourself up.

CRACK

Your heart stops as your body freezes. Right in front of you was something you’d never expected to see. Wide-eyed, you stare down at the giant mass that destroyed Law’s phone. It was like a trunk fell from the sky. You could barely see anything, the moonlight only being your guide. The cosmic light stared down at you, and shone down on whatever the hell was in front of you.

Your mouth drops open in horror as the familiar amber eyes stare you down. Each second you spend looking at the thing, the more of your mother's words hit your ears. Despite not being fully able to see the creature in front of you, you knew what you were looking at.

The moonlight now circled it, showing you the wood-like skin that covered it. Moss and leaves accompany it. It was taller than anything you’ve ever seen. No doubt more than double your height. Yet what truly had you frozen in fear was the huge, clawed thing it called an arm. It was enormous, bigger than the other humanoid appendages. It was spiked with seemingly sharp sticks. The claws looked like they could pierce through you if they simply tapped you.

“...prettyyy…” Before you could speak, your heart drops to your stomach as it quickly reaches out, wrapping its hard hand around your arm. It lifted you up quickly, bringing your face to its own. “...smell nice…” On the other hand, it quickly grabs your head before you can scream. The wood scraps harshly against your face, making tears fall fast. You can feel it starting to move quickly, but it makes no sound as it rushes its way through the trees and brush.

Thrashing around, you try hitting, kicking, just anything to be free. But nothing works. Its grip only gets tighter as it ruins faster and deeper into the woods. Dragging you farther from the light and any sort of help that would’ve come. 

As you were dragged away, you could only hope Law and your mom would forgive you.

[theodoradevlin]

Allegra was leaning against the wall of barrels by the Hufflepuff common room entrance, arms crossed and waiting. She had it on good authority (namely, William) that this was the time Theo typically headed for the Shrub Club greenhouse. A quick glance at her wristwatch told her that if her Hufflepuff friend did not emerge soon, they would miss the sunset entirely.

Thankfully, at that moment, the planks of the entrance barrel unfolded, and like Will accurately predicted, their friend appeared. 

“Theo!” Allegra pushed herself off of the barrels and stepped up to the Hufflepuff. “If your bubotubers and leaping toadstools can survive a day without your attention, I’ve got something to show you.” 

—

When the pair reached the top of the winding pathway that Allegra led them up, the sky was already laced in slivers of purples and oranges. Beds of wildflowers scattered on either side of the dirt path and the slope gently levelled out into a small plateau. The air cooled as the sun slowly settled beneath the horizon, and the familiar sight of the pale green fluttering of lacewing flies started to cluster, shimmering and glowing softly in the wild brush.

“I discovered this spot on one of my morning jogs,” Allegra explained as she drew her wand. She conjured two bottles of firewhisky and handed one to her friend. “Happy birthday, Theo,” she smiled, “Here’s to not letting the rest of our months at Hogwarts pass by without us making the most of them.”

(I'm sorry that this is months late! Happy birthday to our resident antlered and feisty queen!)

"Theo!"

At the familiar voice, Theo's head whips to find Allegra waiting for her. Theo can't help that her grin is automatic, it usually was when Allegra was around. Whenever her chaos partner/cauldron stirring/dearest of friends was involved in something, Theo knew a good time was in order.

Or an interesting time at the very least.

"Bubotubers can wait." She confirms without delay, "Glad you're here to steal me away...I, uh, need to spend some time away from Ve-I mean...the common room for a bit. Let's go. Please."

She follows behind her friend enthusiastically, knowing better than to even ask where they are going, She's glad she doesn't. The more they meander, the more beautiful everything becomes. Between Allegra's love of running, and Theo's love of wandering under the foliage, she figures the two of them could get lost for hours without complaint. But, as per usual, Allegra still manages to surprise her in the best way.

In all the places they've wandered off of school grounds, she's never come across this one. Her breath almost catches at how stunning it is. The abundance of wild flowers filled the air with a sweet scent, and the view paired with the calming hum of the lacewing flies created a place more beautiful than anything Theo could have dreamed up.

She looks back towards her friend with a warm look in her eyes, full of gratefulness for the surprise, and for their friendship. She knew her friend did not perform any such act lightly, and it meant all the more that she would do it for her.

Anyone who was lucky enough to be friends with Allegra was luckier than they knew. Will could attest to that, as could the rest of their group.

"You're spoiling me, you know. Thank you." Theo gets her emotions in check (FOR NOW AT LEAST), laughing that her friend knew them BOTH well enough to not even bother with a glass and just brought two whole damn bottles. She clinks hers to Allegra's perfect toast,

"Cheers to that. Knowing us, I can't imagine doing anything less. So, actually...

...Cheers to us."

[rutgerbadcat]

Antlered flutter flies

[loversarcanas]

Hallmark AU

28-year old sasha waybright, who's lived in new york for the past 15 years, flies back to los angelos on a business trip and runs into anne at a supermarket after years apart/lost contact (and wow she's so pretty now, not that she was ever *not* pretty when they were younger but wow, just wow) and anne is excited to see her again, complimenting her on how she looks (which definitely doesn't make sasha flustered at all ofc) and invites her to catch up over coffee, scribbles down her phone number on a scrap receipt in her coat pocket before she has to finish grocery shopping and leaves

flash forward to the coffee date and they talk about what they doing now. sasha is an editor for a fashion magazine while anne officially took over the thai go business for her parents, even mentioning that she's still in contact with marcy, who's studying game design at uni and mentions they should all hang out when marcy comes up for the holiday break! which sasha is ofc VERY nervous about, seeing as she kind of just Bailed and hightailed it to the other end of the country for over a decade. but she does also genuinely want to see marcy so she agrees.

she goes to visit her mom in LA and discuss xmas plans but she's, as usual, distant and disinterested in her daughter. one of the reasons sasha became numb to the holiday to begin with. her dad lives across the state so she doesn't visit, but does go on a zoom call with him when she gets back to her hotel. he's at least more in the spirit of the holiday, but doesn't really want to plan anything for it.

next day she has her big meeting at the LA HQ for the meeting and is distracted through most of it - thinking about her parental struggle as well as seeing her old friends again, seeing anne again. she struggles a bit through her talking points but does note her current assignments for the magazine - which of course are xmas themed, just what she needs rn - and leaves. she sees a text from anne when she gets back to her shiny black italian sportscar to meet her and marcy at thai go, which gives her flutters and jitters but its cool she's cool so she goes

she gets there and gets immediately tackled by an incredibly excited marcy, who's already donning a reindeer antler headband and an ugly green xmas sweater, along with a new pair of glasses. anne hollers from the back of the kitchen that she's just finishing something up and that she'll be out in a few, so sash sits down at the corner table by the window with marcy and they get caught up.

then anne walks out, hair in a ponytail and candy cane/snowman pins in her hair and a little bit of sparkly red eyeshadow to get into the spirit and even though she's still in her work uniform and taking off her apron sasha is floored at how mature and naturally pretty she looks she has to try and stop herself from staring at her all slack-jawed

anne sits down with her girls and talks christmas plans and while both marcy and anne have plans with their respective families, sasha admits that she has no plans to celebrate (which both marcy and anne take offense to, but especially anne). anne insists that sasha come over and spend xmas with her family, bc the boonchuys get REALLY into it and wouldn't want anyone they care about to be left out during the holiday

before sasha can answer, anne gets a call from her mother and has to leave, but she tells sasha to think about it before heading out the door. when anne is gone marcy gives her the slyyyyyest smile, totally calling her out on her obvious infatuation with anne (that sasha tries disproving, to no avail). sasha avoids talking about it and leaves just as anne is coming back

she gets back to her hotel and gets a text from an unknown person who turns out to be marcy (anne gave her sashas number), and invites her out for drinks tomorrow night, mentioning that anne will be busy and it'll just be them, so sasha accepts

cue the night they go out and sasha, who hardly drinks/is a super lightweight, has one too many amaretto sours and spills to marcy that she's harboured feelings for anne since they were kids, but anne cant know bc sasha feels like she doesn't deserve her. that sasha is a star in the sky and anne is the sun who's too bright and too far to ever touch, and ends up breaking down on marcy (who knew all of this for a long time but isn't the type of person to be in your face about it)

marcy drives sasha back to her hotel and makes sure she's safely inside, and also probably gives her dating advice in the form of visual novels, before driving home. sasha stays up a little longer, reminiscing about their previous friendship as teens and why sasha dropped everything and ran away, and how she could never truly deserve anne, but then passes out

she wakes up with a throbbing headache and minor hangover, and sees she missed a call from anne, and listened to the voicemail she left (her voice was raspy but soft and made her melt) asking sasha if she thought about the xmas plan at all, and in the middle of sasha debating an answer she sees the time and realizes she's going to be late for her next editorial meeting and busts ass out the door without a response

anne, who hasnt heard from sasha all day, ponders her thoughts at work wondering if she came on too strong asking about the christmas stuff, hoping she didn't offend her or bring up bad feelings by asking (she knew sasha's parents weren't the warmest, and that she was pretty much completely cut off from other relatives).

marcy comes in (in a green santa hat and yet another awful christmas sweater) and anne is relieved, asking marcy if sasha mentioned anything to her. marcy mentions going for drinks the night prior, though doesn't mention the inebriated confession or sasha's personal turmoils, and anne sighs anxiously. when there are no customers in the store, she confides in marcy how concerned she is about upsetting sasha and didn't want to come on too strongly, but that she really misses her and wants to rekindle their friendship. at which point marcy prods at her that maybe friendship isn't all she's lookng for, and she actually admits it

like yeah she was much more oblivious to her feelings back then but now? she thinks about sasha a lot, and that even though they had gone through so baby hardships and sasha had hurt her, she had changed and grown before leaving. and anne missed the little bit of good relationship they had, and seeing sasha again just re-lit the flame in her heart

flash to xmas eve, anne still hasnt heard back from sasha, and is about ready to give up. she's outside her house (still living in the same home with her parents all these years later) putting up the final yard decorations and putting lights up around the house, when sasha pulls up on the street just outside of it. she gets out of the car and sees anne up on a ladder, putting lights up on the roof, and walks up to her. she gives her a quiet hello and anne turns around, spooked enough to slip and fall off the ladder

luckily, sasha catches her in her arms (bridal style), which makes them both flustered and sasha gently puts her down. they sit in awkward silence for a moment before they both try to talk at the same time, and they do the "no you go ahead" "nono you go first" thing. anne goes first and apologizes for trying to impose the xmas idea on sasha, making her uncomforable, and so on, while sasha stops her and says she doesn't have anything to be sorry for. she explains the situation with her parents, and then apologizes for not contacting her back.

she awkwardly explains that she felt guilty for leaving, and felt like she didn't deserve to spend time with anne, and didn't want to make her upset. anne reassures her that she wouldn't have invited if she didn't want to spend time, and that she really truly missed sasha and wanted to start the friendship over - for real this time. anne grabs her hand and smiles, which ends up making them both flustered and they break contact

annes mom calls to her from inside the house, so she has to leave but asks bashfully, one more time, if sasha will come to xmas, and sasha smiles softly and gives her a nod yes. they part ways for thw evening both with butterflies running rampant in their chests

come the next evening, the eve of christmas day, sasha appears at the boonchuy's front step, dressed in a fashionable cream sweater, high-waisted dark grey pants, and tall black boots, with three small gift bags in hand, and rings the doorbell. its jeff boonchuy who answers, and is originally stone-faced as he remembers all the times sasha hurt his daughter or was a bad influence on her, but seeing her matured, obviously looking very nervous, he lets go of his feelings and gives her a smile and a "merry christmas" before hollering to anne that sasha is here. he welcomes sasha into the house, and she removes her boots inside. she looks around the house that she had so many fond memories in, seeing the extravagantly decorated tree by the window, shelves lined with various decor, lit holiday themed candles scattered among the house, mrs. b in her chic santa outfit baking cookies in the kitchen, almost felt like coming home for sasha.

then she sees anne walk out, in a stunning dark green dress, long sleeves, form fitted, with black tights and a mistletoe pin in her hair. she's wearing her sparkly red eyeshadow again, and just a bit of red lipstick, and sasha's nearly at a loss for words. anne comes up to get and pulls her into a hug and gets a whiff of sasha's vanilla perfume, while sasha smells anne's argan oil shampoo in her hair - the same kind she would use when they were kids.

they compliment each other's looks and anne eyes the presents in her hands, and takes them over to the tree, telling sasha to make herself comfortable.

mae boonchuy comes out not much later, with a platter of cookies and sets it on the coffee table before them. she and sasha wish each other merry xmas and they all chat a bit over cookies (mae might mention how many times anne brought her up since her coming back, which leaves anne VERY embarrassed and begging her mom to stop), before present time.

sasha gives her gift bags to mr and mrs boonchuy first, simple ornaments for the born of them based on what she remembered then liking - a rock guitar for mae and a game controller for jeff. then gives the final gift bag to anne, which she unwraps to find a beautiful blue butterfly pendant, which she said reminded her of anne. anne likes it, and asks sasha to put it on her. she lifts up her hair and sasha gently clasps the chain around her (while Definitely Not thinking about kissing the nape of her neck nope not at all).

anne gives sasha her present, a pair of silver earrings shaped like swords (insert obligatory "how did you know i wanted to dual wield" line) which she laughs about, but loves all the same

the boonchuy parents go to bed early, leaving the two girls alone. they throw on a cheesy hallmark xmas romcom and end up mostly ignoring it in favour of talking

the tension escalates between them, and suddenly anne gets up and goes to the kitchen, beckoning sasha to join her. before she enters the kitchen though, anne stops her and points up, where they had hung a mistletoe decoration. anne looks at her with soft eyes, almost pleading, when she says that she likes to follow tradition. sasha, though shocked and shaking, puts a hand on anne's cheek, swoops down and gives her an ever so gentle, but ever so tender kiss in the doorway.

they break apart after a moment and just stare, illuminated only by the tv and the moon's light through the kitchen window, and sasha asks if they can do that again and they do, still gentle but more fervently. they brash apart again and sasha says she's wanred to do that for a long time, and anne asks if it was worth the wait and sasha says even moreso

they cuddle up on the couch together well intuí the night, still high on the feelings they're both experiencing and anne lays on her chest while sasha plays with her hair and doze off on the couch together

[ofwrxth]

Thea nods, always keen to talk about her work. "Yes, very," she agrees with a huff because it's been giving her a headache the past few days. "It is. Along with every other substance known to man at this point. It's the whittling down that takes the most time. I have to test it all. My control is a basic spell, cast to see which reacts best." She moves her hands as she speaks, emphasizing different words along the way. "And from there, I can maybe create some sort of hybrid alloy from the most effective ones to help amplify energy-producing spells." Thea explains, having thought of this for a while after working on Felix's dimmer.

"I'm only a quarter through the periodic table basically," she jokes, but really, there's a lot of work ahead, so it's not a far off statement. "It's just, you know, a side thing. I'm still working out use cases but I think, for starters, basic things like lights and electricity can be supplemented if this works. A hybrid between science and magic." She declares proudly because ever since she'd discovered her magic as a girl, Thea has been finding ways to combine it with the science she loved so much. "And your work is interesting, Oskar. Numbers are important. And practical." She chides good-naturedly before taking a sip of her coffee.

"It'll be good for him either way," Thea affirms, knowing that he'll be excited to spend extended time with his dad and uncle. "He keeps telling me, uh," she clears her throat, dusting off the limited Swedish she'd practiced while they were together and had since shelved since their divorce. Before it actually. "Mamma, titta? But shortens it to tit?" Thea snickers, rubbing her cheek, "so I think he should work on that. I do like when he says kan vi läsa en bok?," which she say, a bit choppy, "but I like his little accent when he speaks it." She admits warmly before nodding again. Henrik has the ability to thaw any conversation, even if he isn't there. Elsewhere in the house, Tybalt flutters his wings as she thinks of her son and flies around the hall a bit before settling on one of Sterling's antlers. Thea clears her throat. "Alright, if you're sure." The fact he'd cleared his schedule for this trip has her raising a brow though as she takes another sip.

She cants her head to the side as he continues, setting her mug down. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're going, and that you want to take Hen but..." the witch furrows a brow. "Why so sudden?" Unless someone's sick, the trip seems out of the blue. Urgent almost. "Is everything alright?" she prods, uncertain if he'll say if it's not but figuring to ask regardless.

★・・・・・・★

Oskar offers a faint smile that mirrors Thea's, noticing the way it fades from her lips, causing his own to do the same. It's as if there's a wall he meets. Not from other people, but from himself. Sometimes, it feels further away and as if he'll be granted more time to ease into the moment. But then, from nowhere, something lifts around him. Watching Thea's restrain only makes him feel one thing, as if he's created the environment for her to be this way. But then, when the Sinclair witch discusses her work, Oskar can feel the animated excitement from her within an instant. His smile returns, just as faintly as before and his eyes fix on the work while he listens.

"That sounds interesting, but...very detailed." he responds with a genuine interest, and his remark only means how finicky the work must be. "I'm guessing iron is somewhere on that list." considering how often it's used in magic and warding. "How far have you managed to get?" Oskar asks, giving Thea his attention as she waves away the topic. "Oh, I didn't think you were. Don't worry. At least your work is more interesting than if I info-dumped about numbers. Considering everyone knows math and how decimal points work." his grin is just a twitch. "Is there a purpose in mind or...just a hobby?" Oskar asks, familiar with how Thea starts projects on her own accord more often than not.

He doesn't like how the surprise sounds in her tone, though it's faint and pleasant. It manages to stir the guilt that he trudges around on his back each and every day. Oskar clears his throat, meeting Thea's gaze with a subtle nod. "Well, I don't think meeting old people is particularly very fun for him but we'll have days of doing other things, obviously. Museums and he can practice his Swedish." and he means his words too, even if Henrik joining them is a gentle facade to quell Agneta's suspicions. Oskar shakes his head gently to the offer of any assistance from a nanny, his hand raising to decline politely. "No, no. There's enough of us if I did need to work, but I've cleared everything so it should be fine." he takes a sip of coffee, and isn't surprised by Thea's inquisitive nature. Oskar isn't as well versed on mischief to dodge and deflect, he uses the trusted method of deflection and his hand waves. "Madisyn, really. She wanted to meet them, I guess she spoke to Felix who saw an opportunity to avoid Asphodel and I think Bella was Bella, suggesting Henrik and me." he hopes it throws her off the scent, at least. "Oh, of course. That's fine, I can get things packed for the trip. We can er...facetime, obviously. I'll text you as well, so you know he hasn't become a Swedish gnome while away."

[sailor--thomas]

Blood Hunt ~~ [Self para]

One shot 900 words — the first creature Tom killed.

Takes place: early November, 2006

[tw: animal death, hunting, gore, cruelty, toxic masculinity] 

It had always been a dreary fact of Tom’s life that elk hunting season began only weeks after his birthday. He had spent the last two birthdays, shivering and cold, awake before the sun had come up, tracking elk through the woods around the loch outside of Edinburgh. It wasn’t by choice. But, after the first time he’d  complained and his father had laid into him about how he was being lazy and weak, Tom had never said another word against it. He didn’t say any words, at all, really. Most of the men celebrating his birthday were much older than him.

His father would take him out with Uncle Fergus, Uncle Lachlan, and a plethora of distant cousins and uncles, all of which were older than him. 

The last two years, they hadn’t even found any elk, except for a doe with her young fawn. A prey that even the men of the Order respected. Tom was grateful for this fact. Even if it meant all they did for several days was sit in cold trees with nothing to do or behind fallen logs with nothing to do, or trekked silently through the woods. It wasn’t that Tom hated the woods. He actually liked the woods quite a bit. He loved the tall trees and the quiet and the bunnies that ran underfoot and the birds that woke him every morning with their song. As long as there were no elk, Tom could almost enjoy himself. Despite the cold and the damp and the fact he was likely to get a cold. 

Only problem was: there was an elk. 

They had been stalking it through the snow since yesterday. Tom had woken early to see if he could find its tracks, so that he could brush them away, but he was only twelve and didn’t know how to find elk tracks. His father had grabbed him gently by the scruff of the neck when they did find them and guided him to them, showing him the broken branches and the hoof print in the snow. 

“Memorize it, eh, Tommy boy? Next year, you’ll have to find it on your own.” 

Tom had nodded wordlessly and then trekked after his father, feeling the trepidation with every step through the snow. 

The first glimpse of the beast that Tom got was in a glen. Here, the snow had partially melted in the sun and browning pieces of grass poked through. His coat was the deep brown of freshly tilled earth, matted with dirt and shaggy, he could see it tremble and twitch as it shook off flies and snorted into the hot air. It’s ears looked as soft as Champion’s, his father’s prized stallion, though he was massive in comparison. Even from a distance, Tom could tell that he was several hands higher and the spread of his antlers were like arms reaching up to the sky. There was no sound, except for the shuffle of the hunters surrounding the creature from the tree line, fanning out. 

Tom’s heart rate increased as he watched them disappear through the brush and he started to feel sick to his stomach. The elk was completely unaware. It was doing nothing wrong. 

He knelt on the damp earth next to his father. “We are down wind,” Tom senior explained to his son as he grabbed a leaf and let it flutter in the breeze. From over his shoulder, he plucked an arrow from his quiver and strung it onto the bow before holding it out to Tom. 

Tom looked at it with wide eyes, reaching out to grasp it with a sweaty hand. He knew how to shoot a bow and arrow, of course. Back at home, his father had set up targets for him to practice and he had. He wasn’t very good at it, if he was honest. In the last six months, he’d not hit a bullseye once. 

“You have to hit it straight on,” his father explained, his voice a murmur. “Do you remember the diagram I showed you?”

How could Tom forget? His father had made him study all the parts of a deer where they were weak. Where one powerful shot from an arrow would kill them, anything less and you would have to shoot it again. And again. He swallowed and nodded his head. 

“Keep both eyes open when you aim.” 

Tom had never hit a bullseye before. He was never more grateful for that fact. 

Tom aimed at the ground and released his shot. 

The arrow sliced through the air silently, arcing before it landed several feet from the elk, sticking straight into the earth. The elk lifted it’s great head and took off, startled. A folly of arrows rained down from every angle of the glen. The creature was surrounded. Tom watched in dismay, realizing his own shot had meant nothing at all. The elk was always going to die. 

Several arrows were lodged in the elk’s flank, buckling its legs and sending it to the ground, where it crushed another arrow that had embedded itself in its shoulder. It gave a mournful bellow that startled the morning doves from their roosts. Tom felt it vibrate in his bones.

“Let’s go,” his father said, his voice tight with eagerness. He grabbed Tom’s shoulders and dragged him from the underbrush, seemingly unaware that Tom felt as if his legs wouldn’t work. He stumbled towards the place where the elk had fallen, following the trail of bright red blood with his eyes.

Tom was not unfamiliar with blood and death. Growing up on a farm meant that you saw plenty of it. And it had never bothered him before. These things were part of life. Creatures died or they were eaten. This was the natural order of things. Then why did Tom feel as if they were attending a funeral. 

They stopped in front of the elk, the other hunters already in a semi-circle around it. 

“Holy--look at that beauty.”

“He has to be at least 300 points, if not more.” 

“Nah, how you reckon?”

“He’s got an eight point, look at that.” Fergus pointed at an extra tine on the elk’s antlers. 

Tom was only half listening to any of this. He was looking at the elk, which was still alive. Upclose, Tom could see that there was blood on its muzzle, dripping from its nose. He could see the whites of its eyes and he was again reminded of Champion who hated storms and always looked the same way. A memory rose from a horrible storm one night, where his father had stayed in the stables with the horses to make sure none of them hurt themselves in their fear.

“Tommy should get the kill,” his father said now and Tom looked up at him, panicked.

“And how’s that fair, Tom?” someone said with their arms crossed. “This bull is a trophy. It’s going on my wall. It’s not some gift for your kid.” 

“He took the first shot,” his father argued.

The elk rumbled, letting out a deep bleat, his hoof kicking in the snow. 

Tom was the only one who noticed this. He looked down at his boots where the blood was slowly creeping towards him, cutting a hot river through the snow. 

“And missed!” cackled one of the cousins.

Tom crunched through the snow, a hand on his belt. He maneuvered around the great antlers, sharp and powerful. The elk’s ears twitched as it heard him and it tried to lift its head, but it couldn’t. Tom reached out and touched those warm, soft ears. Then stroked the great beast’s cheek, moving his hand down to find the curve of the bone and the soft skin of his throat beneath.

“I should get it, that’s my arrow in his shoulder. I know because I fletch them with peacock feathers.” 

“You’re a peacock,” said someone else.

“We should flip for it,” Fergus said placidly. 

“Oi, what are you doing boy?” 

Tom ignored them all and ducked his head to scrub the tears from his eyes on his shoulder. Then, he took a deep breath and plunged his brand new, never been used, hunting knife into the elk’s neck. Right in the spot his father had taught him. It was harder than he thought it would be and he had to lean into it, sliding the blade through the flesh until he felt it give way and his hand brushed coarse fur. Warm liquid bubbled up from the wound, splashing against his skin. 

The elk gave a shudder and he felt its body still, then relax beneath his touch. 

Tom sat back, letting go of the knife and watching as blood dripped from his hand into the snow.

“Well, that settles it then,” his uncle Fergus said with a booming laugh. 

The sound rang in Tom’s ears. 

“Happy birthday, Tommy.” 

[alilbihh]

hocus pocus — 3

masterlist  previous part  next part

pairing: maknae line x reader

summary: jungkook wags his tail and his eyes look like truffles. jimin drinks blood out of juice boxes and bendy straws and tries to wink but ends up blinking both his eyes closed. taehyung likes the ocean and all kinds of art and apologizes to rocks. you don’t know if they want to take you out the date way or the assassination way and somehow you think it’s both.

genre: werewolf!jungkook, vampire!jimin, hybrid!taehyung, witch!reader; humor (??); poly!au (in the future!)

words: 14k

There’s a caw by your window, a fluttering of feathers. A knock on the glass. You lift your head warily, eyes squinted, still stuck in a sort of dissociative post-morning state. One, two.. Eight. There are eight crows outside your window.

Crows are often seen as bad luck, omens of death - but people forget they could mean good news. Upcoming wealth. New beginnings.

You watch them for a long while, still under the comforting weight of your quilt, until there’s a sound and the flock flies away with a flourish.

There are eight crows by your window. A sign of a life altering experience soon to cross your path.

You close your eyes and burrow deeper into your pillow.

You think you fall in love the same way you fell into Petz. Accidentally and while making a fool of yourself.

Namjoon comes running over, phone in hand. He frowns. “Did you just trip and I didn’t see? Dammit. This is what happens when I volunteer to take cute pictures of puppies for Jin-hyung. Do it again.”

“I will not.” You say as you right yourself, walking inside the pet store properly this time. Namjoon steps inside behind you, cleaning his shoes over the carpet for more time than necessary.

The pet store is large and cozy and has puppies. It’s everything you expected but you’re still caught by surprise. Namjoon looks around in wonder, only really here under the pretense of wanting a fish but when you turn he’s cooing at a barking labrador, his hands and cheek pressed to the glass.

“Do you think Kimbap would mind if we got a dog?”

Your brows furrow, watching the labrador from beside Namjoon. The dog paws at the glass, and Namjoon boops at where its nose is.

“Kimbap is a cat.”

“He is.” Is all Namjoon says and that’s that.

You leave him to his fantasies as you walk around, not a worker in sight. No one in sight, really. By now you’d expected to be jumped by someone with a Petz logo on their shirt and convinced to buy an entire alpaca farm and multiple chew toys for a dog you don’t even have, but it’s completely void of people.

You pass by puppy cages and reptile tanks and find the fish, too, before you find a single person. You wonder if you came to the wrong pet store. Jimin said he volunteers here, but maybe it’s another Petz entirely. You suddenly hear a commotion somewhere in the back rooms, so you head there, hoping to find someone.

And you do find someone. His back is facing you and there’s no logo on his shirt but there are, like, three to four kittens clinging to his arms, so he’s either thinking of adopting all of them or you’re witnessing the beginning of an abduction.

The kittens are clutching at his arms and emitting tiny meows as he sets them into their little cat houses, muttering something to them but you can’t make out the soft words and you’re distantly aware you’re staring. Not just at the kitten’s heads poking out through the arms but at like- the actual arms. They’re tanned and muscular and have kittens on them. This is just devastating.

He looks up and straightens and it’s three seconds before he turns to you that you notice the antlers on his head and the boxy smile. Oh no.

The boy suddenly stands as straight as a board as his eyes meet yours. His hair is as blue as the ocean he loves so much. There’s a streak of kohl over his lashes that’s a bit smudged on one side, as though he forgot about it and wiped his eye.

There’s only one kitten on his arm now, black fur tipped with brown and almost dozing off, all curled up and comfy. He raises its paw in a little wave. “Hi.”

You don’t know what to do. He doesn’t mention that he knows you, doesn’t even look too surprised, only smiles like this was inevitable. It makes you smile, too. “Hi.”

“Are you here to adopt?” He says- Taehyung says, your mind supplies even though you didn’t ask it to- tickling at the kitten’s tummy as he does, “A kitten, maybe?”

No you are not, you’re definitely not. "Um. Maybe,“ you answer, stepping in closer.

Taehyung stares at the kitten cradled in his chest for a little while longer before turning, gingerly placing it with the rest. He brushes a finger lightly over its head before stepping back and you’re now absolutely devastated.

The boy bites at his lower lip, considering you with narrowed eyes. "A reptile, maybe..” He mutters, more to himself than anything. “Come!”

He takes your hand, quick and excited but soft as he tangles his fingers between yours. Good god.

The deer hybrid leads you to the reptile tanks, pauses by one, tap tap taps at the glass and you both watch as one of its inhabitants comes padding out with surprising agility.

“That’s Guac! She’s a bearded dragon and is also very much pregnant. Me and Jiminie consider stealing her every day.”

You laugh, staring at the reptile’s beady eyes as she blinks, one eye then the other. “She’s pregnant?” Guac doesn’t look at all pregnant at first glance, but there’s a slight bump on her stomach that you have to squint to even notice.

“I was surprised too! She was alone in her enclosure and we still have no idea how the dude got in there to impregnate her. Kookie said something about horniness surpassing all boundaries, but, well. I have no comment on that.”

“He is a menace I am so sorry.” You say but you’re laughing and it makes him laugh, too. “You know Guk?”

Taehyung makes a soft sound as he opens the enclosure, like a hum and a yeah all rolled into one. You watch as he picks up Guac as he would the kittens, soft and gentle and fond. You think he’s like that with everything. You think you’re looking at him like that, too. “Kook visits every so often. He’s cute and funny and has a boopable nose and gave me a rock. Oh!” He startles, raises a hand over his mouth. “Not a rock. Sorry. Crystal,” he corrects.

He’s rocking the bearded dragon softly like he would a baby, bouncing it lightly in his arms. Guac doesn’t seem to mind. You’re fully endeared.

“Did Guk tell you that?” You tickle under Guac’s chin and it makes Taehyung giggle.

“Yeah,” he smiles, bordering on fond. Kisses Guac’s head before placing her back in the tank, watching as she scampers back to the little cave by the corner. Too fast for a pregnant lady, you think, but who are you to judge. “He talks about you a lot, you know,” He whispers, like you’re being let in on a secret. Turns to you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

You don’t know what to say to that and you don’t want to regret it if you do, so you only nod.

There’s a shout and Taehyung’s head jerks up, smiles something wide and giddy, spots Jimin before even you do. He dashes past you before he’s jumping half on Jimin, tugging him towards you, and then jumping half on you too for no reason except maybe that he can, pulls Jimin in for a soft kiss that goes long and flushes both their cheeks and leaves them both breathless and giggly and there it is-

a little pang.

You scratch at your chest, look around, spot Namjoon idling by the tanks where a school of fish whiz by. Namjoon’s a doctor. A sorta-doctor. An actual witch. A little bit of a seer, if he thinks hard. He knows cardiac arrest and medicine and sickness symptoms and the like. He’ll know you’re dying.

Or he’ll catch you staring, turn, and send suggestive eyebrow raises before scampering back towards the puppy section. Great. Amazing.

“You look happy,” Is all Yoongi says as you slam your stack of books onto the table, sitting opposite him with a huff. He looks soft today, an earring shining from the peak of one pointed ear.

He’s joking, he has to be. Your clothes are a wrinkly mess and your hair’s disheveled and you think you need, like, a mint. Maybe two. But he’s looking at you like he knows something that you don’t. So you don’t say anything, only blow a few raspberries in his direction.

You open a spell book, skimming through it with hasty eyes. The photographic memory potion would be really useful right now, its side effects maybe even more.

“Don’t you have finals soon?” Namjoon mutters beside you, and you look up with a start because you hadn’t even seen him get here.

When did he get here. “When did you get here?” You ask out loud.

“I was always here,” is all he says. You think you’re in a fever dream but you’re not too sure.

“Huh,” You breathe out, looking into the distance.

You look back down at your book. Phoenix feathers, lemon, dragon liver… Dirt? Graveyard dirt? Where are you supposed to get graveyard dirt?

“Namjoon. Joonie. Buddy ole pal.” Looking up at the man from beneath your lashes, you flutter them a bit for a better effect. The man, very much gay and very much in a committed relationship, doesn’t really look amused. “Do you wanna go to a graveyard with me?”

Yoongi looks up with a start, “Oh shit, who are we killing? Who are we burying?”

“What? No one, you absolute heathen. I need it for a potion. Witchipedia says so.”

“It’s not a reliable source,” Namjoon exclaims with a frown. “I gave up on it after it made me burn my frying pan.”

“How does one burn a frying pan,” You deadpan. The man shrugs.

It’s as you’re flipping through pages absentmindedly that your thoughts stray to your dinner not-date. Should you bring drinks? You should probably bring drinks. You wonder what kind of drinks they like.

“Should I bring drinks?” You mutter out loud. The duo’s heads turn towards you.

“For your dinner date?” Namjoon grins, and of course Yoongi told him. You glare at the faerie, and he smiles cheekily. Namjoon continues when you don’t bother correcting him, “You should buy wine. It’s a sexy drink.”

“Namjoon!” You exclaim, horrified. He giggles a bit sporadically. Yoongi just keeps smiling at you, just a bit too close to looking fond.

Faeries can sense auras better, even, than witches. Faeries can see it with only a glance, blues or reds or pinks hovering just over your form. Pinks can be admiration, confidence, love. Yellows can be envy, lust, cruelty. Wine red means only one thing; a red, ugly fury. It’s Yoongi’s least favorite color.

You can’t imagine what it’s like to see an overwhelming amount of colors every day against your will, but Yoongi likes to joke that there’s at least a little color to his life.

Witches are different. Witches sense auras completely based on a whim, a hunch. Sometimes you walk past a complete stranger and are keenly aware of what they’re feeling - and sometimes when Jungkook laughs too hard you taste something akin to cherries, hidden just under your tongue.

Yoongi’s a bit like mangoes. Hoseok is a little bit of everything, a little bit of cinnamon here and a little bit of blueberries there. Jin is a bit like cookie dough and Namjoon is a lot like chamomile tea. Jimin -

Jimin is sweet. Something sweet you can’t quite describe. Like sweaters straight out the dryer and the first spring morning where there’s no frost, only dew. You wonder what Taehyung’s happiness would taste like, wonder if it’s just as sweet.

“Your aura’s pink.” Yoongi mutters with a knowing smile, lips curled just the slightest bit. You slam your book closed with more force than necessary, and he laughs heartily as all the blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No it’s not shut up.” You grab a random book you’d separated and hide underneath it, hoping your cheeks aren’t as pink as your aura.

It’s a while later that you find the solution, only after reading through multiple ingredient guides (including the advantages of using dirt), three books for safe potion usage and two potion textbooks. It’s nestled under a glossary for everyday ingredients, and the pages are printed in the obnoxiously indecipherable cursive that witches tend to use.

Namjoon is long gone, carrying with him a stack of books that go past his head and nearly tower over his form. Hoseok appeared seemingly out of thin air, sat between you and Yoongi and flip, flip, flipping through his book, not quite reading like he’s supposed to but it’s okay. He doesn’t read a lot, just tends to learn in that intuitive way of his.

Hoseok laughs heartily at something Yoongi says and hops excitedly in his seat, the pixie perched on his shoulder squealing and gripping onto his shirt sleeve helplessly. He turns, coos, plucks a petal from the posy of daisies in the vase on the center of the table, delicately offers it with pouted lips. The pixie playfully nips at his thumb before snatching the petal from between his offering fingers and taking a bite– tiny hands smaller, even, than the size of his thumbnail.

The merman laughs and you’re absolutely enamored. With what, you don’t know. Maybe with how easy it was for them despite their difference in size, despite their lack of communication. It continually amazes you how important words can be and how at times they’re not needed at all.

The liquor store is big and intimidating and has one too many wines.

“You looking for something specific?” the lady behind the counter asks. She has soft eyes and her hair’s tied in a bun.

“Uh, wine, I guess.” You stammer.

“Can’t pick?” She’s rearranging the bottles on display behind her as she speaks over her shoulder, the glasses clinking together almost melodically. “Any special occasion?”

“Um.” You pause. “No?”

She quirks a brow.

You feel all the blood rush to your cheeks as you elaborate, “It’s for my familiar’s friends, that I guess are also my friends now, and I wasn’t going to bring anything but my other friend said I should bring wine, and I don’t want to look like a complete scrub in front of them but I don’t know anything about wine so I guess I am. A complete scrub.”

The lady laughs and you guess that your moment of oversharing is the moment you blacklist the liquor store and everything it stands for.

“What about sparkling wine?” She offers. She continues at your confused blinks, “It has bubbles.”

“Um. Sure. I mean. I like bubbles.”

So you show her your ID and pay for your wine and she packs it neatly into a bag. “Good luck with your familiar’s friends,” she says with an almost knowing smile as she hands the wine over, and you just nod because you don’t trust your voice not to squeak at that.

It’s another day. The day. You blink slowly awake and when you look outside your window it’s still dark out and you think you can feel Jungkook somewhere nearby, probably lying restless in his room.

You blink. The crow outside your window blinks back. There are nine crows outside this time, sitting around and staring as if they’re waiting for you to notice them. Nine crows. Positive recognition.

You groan and squeeze your eyes closed so hard you see colors.

(Love. Nine crows could also mean love).

You look at the door number. Then back down at the address on your phone. Then back up at the door. Down again.

Jungkook groans from beside you, tail flicking in slight irritation behind him. Or maybe it’s nervousness. Maybe even excitement. “Can’t we go in already?” He groans, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nod and nod and nod but don’t do anything. Jungkook uncrosses his arms at that, sighs, pats your head fondly but you swat his hand away anyway. “Are you nervous?” He asks, his hands combing through your hair now and you let him. You nod. “Well we can’t stay out here forever, you know.”

“We can try.”

Your familiar shakes his head, “What’s the point of that?” You grunt but don’t shift your gaze from the door. “I’m gonna ring the doorbell now, okay?”

You wonder when the tables turned. When it was you that was nervously skirting around them, when Jungkook was the one confident enough to get close.

You nod because there’s no point in delaying it, anyway. No point in you getting nervous, either.

Jungkook rings the doorbell and you look down at your shoes when you hear approaching footsteps, like they were just by the door and waiting. Their doormat says "enter if you dare" and has a little skeleton on the bottom. You stifle a laugh.

The door swings open and Jimin’s head pops out first, smiles at you both, opens the door wider. “Hello, hello!”

Jungkook greets him first, only smiling before handing over the bag in his hand. While you (read: Namjoon) had the idea of bringing wine, Jungkook wanted to bring juice, so he did.

“We brought stuff!” He smiles, and you hand the bag of wine over as if on cue.

“Wine!” Jimin cheers, quickly followed by footsteps and “juice!” from Taehyung.

You slip off your shoes and hang your coat by the wall hook, stare at a mustard colored peacoat and wonder whose it is.

The floorboards creak as you pad farther inside and you like that, the creaking - it means the place is old and lived in and you like old and lived in places.

Then there’s this rush of vanilla and strawberries and warmth and then the shyest boldest most beautiful boy half in your arms tugging you in whispering

hello, hi, Y/n, c'mere, it’s nice to see you again! sorry for the mess, Y/n, wait how did that get on the ceiling Y/n, Y/n.

Smiles this smile so big it hurts, cracks something big across your heart.

You’re dragged into their kitchen and Jimin is there, Jungkook close by sipping on something warm in his cup. Jimin is watching him, smiling something small and giddy, playing with the long earrings dangling from Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook flushes.

You thought you were ready for this softness. Early this morning you’d drank a soothing potion mixed with some sugar– you even bathed in lavender and rose water and a bit of neroli, just to soothe some smaller nerves. Standing here, you think it didn’t do much of a difference. You’re feeling everything all at once.

“Rule number one is that you have to ask Tannie if you can sit on the couch. I don’t have a rule number two because I haven’t thought that far, but please regard rule number one with utmost respect.” Taehyung exclaims with exaggerated hand gestures just as the dog in question trots towards you, angry eyebrows sizing you up despite his size. You feel very much intimidated.

Everything is great. Yeontan sometimes lets you sit on the couch and Jimin and Jungkook are laughing and Taehyung is telling you of this strange dream he had and of this strange album he listened to and of this art museum he went to that was absolutely terrible. Jimin interjects to agree that it was, in fact, terrible, the kind of museum where everyone’s a snob and thinks that art has to look and be a certain way.

Then when Jimin and Jungkook disappear somewhere Taehyung appears beside you, asking if he can take you somewhere, tangling your fingers together just as gently, as if to say you can let go if you want, you can say no if you want. But you do want it, so you let him tug you into their hallway.

His and Jimin’s shared bedroom isn’t particularly big, but it’s soft and smells like them. Almost but not quite like sugar and strawberries and lavender. There’s a cactus on one of their nightstands by the corner, a little bow on its pot, sitting by an over-filled vase of sunflowers. There are dried flowers by window ledges and framed prints and hanging by their headboard.

You’re both sitting in a corner, sharing earbuds, flipping through a poetry book you’d recognized the second he picked it up. The one Jimin bought from you that must have been for Taehyung. You smile at the thought.

“They don’t know we’re here,” Taehyung says suddenly with a giggle, tapping his feet to the song in his earbuds a bit out of rhythm. He says it like you’re sharing a secret. You find yourself grinning.

Then Jimin comes stumbling in, Jungkook not far behind, both of them giggling and tripping over their feet as if drunk but they’re not, they’re just giddy and excited and maybe a little bit in love.

Jimin looks over at you two in the corner and you freeze. You freeze but you don’t know why, feel as if you’ve been caught but that’s not right, you and Taehyung weren’t doing anything, there’s no reason to feel as if you should apologize.

Yet you feel an apology on the tip of your tongue, even if Jimin and Jungkook’s faces are—aren't—

“There you two are,” Jimin says, nothing short of fond.

Jungkook behind him grins, pads over to plop his head on your lap. Jimin follows, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of both your and Taehyung’s heads before sitting in front of you three and you feel—

You feel warm. Loved. Safe. Sandwiched from both sides, Taehyung curling in closer, Jungkook’s hair tickling the exposed skin of your leg, Jimin taking a hold of your hands, teasingly pressing a few kisses to the back of it.

You play games after that and argue for over ten minutes on which movie to watch. There’s only the living room and it’s already a small space to start, so you all end up pressed together on the couch, but no one seems to mind. You get winks whenever you meet someone’s eye and everything is warm and makes you feel sleepy. You feel adored and cared for and think your worlds are colliding in the most wonderful of ways.

Except sometimes you feel as if you’re intruding, as if you shouldn’t be there at all. It’s hard to think otherwise, with them being in love and whatnot. But it’s unfair, unfair to think that you’re being left out when there’s nothing to be left out of, so you sit and try to convince yourself that these almost-feelings are thoughts of

wow, what a kind bunch of people I know, how lucky I am to have them in my life, what a great group of friends this is.

“Are you feeling okay?” Namjoon asks the second you walk inside his shop. You don’t remember walking here, don’t remember at all. “Because everything suddenly tastes icky and I literally just ate some of Jin-hyung’s lemon pie so you better get happy quick.”

The inside of the store still smells of sage and rosemary and butter cookies, and there are still objects lying around in places they shouldn’t. Namjoon picks up a copy of Alice in Wonderland that appeared on his desk this morning and tucks it away neatly between the shelves and shelves of other books. You wonder how he finds space for it.

There are no light switches anywhere, no bulbs hanging overhead. But there’s a fire crackling by the fireplace that never seems to go out, and there are lanterns floating just the tiniest bit, hovering just above the tables, burning with green alchemical fire and tinting everything a warm emerald color. The lanterns seem to stick a bit closer to whoever is nearby.

The interior is surprisingly lush, probably (definitely) courtesy of Jin. Carpets are layered one over another. There are heavy wooden tables and chairs, vines curling around their legs, their stems a vivid green. There is nowhere to sit that doesn’t seem to be crawling with plants.

You laugh and he smiles but there’s still a pinch of worry somewhere in his eyes, in the crease between his brows - just more on the edges now. “m'fine, Joon,” You say, then immediately want to swallow your words back in. You don’t want to give such an answer, not to Namjoon. "At least, I will be.“ you add.

The witch is about to interject just as Jin walks in, Kimbap striding behind him with his tail just as high as his head. "Joon-ah, the chimney smoke is blowing south.”

Namjoon nods, like there’s more to the phrase than just the direction the smoke is blowing. He stands up, and you have no choice but to follow. “I’ll deal with it later, hyung. Y/n-ah, do you wanna join us for pie?” And so you do.

You’re at a pleasant level of tired, the kind in which everything is just a bit funnier than usual, where walking feels like you’re wading through knee-deep water. Jin slices you some of his lemon pie in a piece that ends up breaking apart, and he releases a gut wrenching scream when some of it falls onto his jeans that has you and Namjoon laughing so hard you see colored spots.

“So what’s got you in such a mood?” Seokjin asks as he shoves a forkful of pie into his mouth that’s way bigger than necessary, the man barely even managing to chew it. He’s wearing shorts now.

“It’s her failing love life, hyung, keep with the program.” You flick Namjoon on the forehead at that and he laughs, quick and sharp. He tries to hide it but his smile keeps slipping.

“No it is not.”

“Lies, your shoulders are all scrunched up.” Jin points out through a mouthful of pie, and it’s then you notice your shoulders bunched up into an irritable shrug. You try to relax but it’s too late.

“Did they say something to you?”

“No!” You’re quick to say. “No. They didn’t say anything to me.”

Namjoon and Jin look at you, then look at each other. Squint. There’s a second of silence, and then a quiet, “Let’s curse them.”

“What!” You snap.

“Not a malicious curse! Just a tiny one.” Namjoon nods, proud of himself.

“May their phones run out of battery quicker.”

“May their socks always step into puddles.”

“May they forget a family member’s birthday.”

“Oh, that’s a little mean,” Namjoon frowns.

Jin looks sheepish. “Was it too mean?” He pauses, rubbing a hand over his chin, wings fluttering a bit. "May they burn their toast more often?“

A smile, and they high five. Namjoon sits up, his chair scraping backwards. "I need, like, five candles. And hyssop. Hyung, do we have hyssop?”

You watch these two adult men scramble around their own house with narrowed eyes. “Guys! I don’t want to curse anyone! They didn’t do anything, really!”

Namjoon turns, candle in hand as he sighs, places it back in its shelf. He walks back towards you, places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure? You can tell us, you know. We’re here to help.”

“I know.” Is all you say, and you do. You do know. They’re always trying to help, always are. “Thank you. I just need to sort my feelings through, I think.” Namjoon is frowning but nods, pinches your cheek, laughs at your squeal.

Jin walks in, dry bay leaf in hand. “So we don’t need this?”

“No.” You deadpan. His shoulders slump, and you laugh when he trudges back out the way he came.

Everything seems a bit off, a bit odd - like the universe shifted one centimeter to the right, everything off kilter.

Jimin picks you up after your afternoon classes that day, arms crossed and leaning against a wall like they do in all those books and movies and dramas. He’s wearing skinny jeans and fake glasses. It’s kinda unfair that people like him exist, people that can see without any visual aid whatsoever.

He smiles when you reach him, ruffles your hair, kisses your nose - the very tip of it, lips barely even grazing your skin.

“Hi, hello,” he says, grins, pinches your arm like it’ll distract you from his own embarrassment, laughs when it works.

The vampire takes your hand, tangles his fingers with yours, swings your intertwined hands softly.

“Taehyung’s making pasta,” Jimin says, pauses, “well, Taehyung's watching the pasta, actually,” he corrects with a chuckle.

“Am I invited to your pasta endeavors?”

“Do you want to be? You’re going to have to spend, like, hours with us.” His tone makes it sound like it’s the most terrible thing but his smile says otherwise. The breeze is teasing him, fluffing his hair like a baby chick.

“Oh no. Oh no, not hours.”

“Hours.” He says dramatically, giggles– really giggles, even though he’s vehemently opposed to the term whenever you bring it up.

Jimin is charming, haphazard all around the edges kind of charming. He smiles a lot, smiles at everyone, smiles like he has an infinite number of them to offer when you have, like, seven in a day at most. He smiles at the ice cream vendor and at the bulgogi vendor across from it. He smiles at the stray cats in alleyways and apologizes when he nearly bumps into a trashcan. Smiles at you, too.

“We’re home!” Jimin yells out when you both arrive, his fangs poking out through his smile and you know he must be talking to Taehyung but for a second it really feels like you’re home. Not because of their home, exactly, even with the streaks of paint on the ceiling and sprawled out video games on the floor and a bonsai on the windowsill that you just know is Taehyung’s, but just because of–

them.

And it all feels like so much.

You’re all watching Ponyo like Jungkook wanted to so much and him and Jimin are half asleep on the futon just below the couch, all curled into each other and warm and comfortable.

(You try to cover them with a blanket like they do in every romance ever known to man, but Jungkook immediately kicks it off with a might you’ve never seen before, and you blankly watch it flop to the floor. Taehyung muffles his laugh as much as he can manage).

Taehyung shifts closer to you somewhere between the credits rolling and Jungkook’s particularly loud snore, and something about his hesitation and the little smile almost makes you coo.

You don’t comment, simply crawl closer to Taehyung on the couch. He shifts so he’s closer and his antlers just barely graze over the armrest before he settles, nuzzling into the throw pillow. He smells like Jimin’s body wash and shampoo; citrus mixed with something boyish, something like honeysuckle and cedarwood, something that just might be Taehyung.

“Is this okay?” he mutters sheepishly, his hand grazing over yours as he shifts, shifts, shifts positions.

You swat at the couch a bit before finding the bare skin of his arm. His inner elbow, most likely. You tap twice, not willing to speak, not willing to break the sweet sweet cotton candy of this moment.

A moment of silence goes by. A quiet one. Quiet moments with Taehyung are nice, like there’s nothing needed to be said, no need to fill the silence. It’s quiet in a loud way, a thousand words to say and not a single one good enough to be put into words. But it’s nice, even though it shouldn’t need to be.

Taehyung suddenly turns, takes his phone from the nightstand, unplugs the charger from it before turning, settling, squinting at the screen’s brightness. You laugh, a breathless thing, and he smiles.

He type type types before pausing, glancing at you from beneath his lashes. You’re so close you can count the number of eyelashes he has, the number of freckles, the little mole by his nose and his bottom lip that would look unnecessary on anyone else but on him it’s just right.

He hands the phone over. Taehyung does this sometimes, tells you things through the phone despite how close you might be, says it helps him think his words through, helps him not say things he’ll regret.

There’s something on my mind, the phone says, short and simple, and for a second you think that this is it, he noticed your sticky feelings, they all did, you messed up. Either in many little ways and one big way or many big ways and one little way, you don’t know. He’s here to be mature about it, here to say

stop looking at my boyfriend like that please

and the worst part is that they have every right to.

Because you don’t have a right to think of Jimin’s boyfriend like this, you don’t have a right to think of Taehyung’s boyfriend like this, that you don’t have a right to think of Jungkook like this- sweet Jungkook in love with them both.

Your mouth is dry and tastes like salt as you curl up, type tell me? before handing the phone over. You just hope they don’t hate you. You wouldn’t be able to handle them hating you.

Sometimes you think there’s something wrong with you, to think like this, to think of all three of them like this. That maybe you’re doing this wrong, doing something wrong. You googled it once, just to see - and some of what you saw hurt, hurt a lot. A lot of people, a lot of what you saw said that you can’t love more than one person, that you can only fully give your heart to one person. But that’s not right, you don’t believe that one bit, don’t want to believe that, because there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just love, and there’s nothing wrong with love.

Jimin and Taehyung and Jungkook are so gentle with their love for each other, all this patiently impatient love, their sweet tangle of fingers and gentle smiles. Jimin and Taehyung with their lingering kisses that shouldn’t linger because they’re fifteen minutes late for class. The two on either side of Jungkook on the couch, one messing with his hair and the other falling asleep on his shoulder and you love it. Love them together.

And you don’t know what to do with this not-jealousy, with this almost-jealousy, with this-

love.

You watch Taehyung’s fingers move as he types, pauses, deletes. You think it’s better this way. To end things before the sticky feelings clogging at your insides spreads until it hurts too much to hide.

He hands the phone over. You hope your fingers aren’t shaking. I think I’m sad is all it says. You feel relieved even though you know you shouldn’t.

do you wanna talk about it?

His hands clumsily brush against yours as he takes the phone from you.

could u talk out loud? if you don’t mind? i like ur voice.

“okay,” you whisper, feeling small and warm in all the right ways, and he laughs that ehehe laugh.

He motions for you to get closer. You comply, curling in closer to read over his arm as he writes. sry my spellign sucks, i’m bad even tho i need to know how 2 communicate

“You used both the number two and the word two in that one sentence,” you exclaim with a muffled laugh, mindful of the still sleeping Jimin and Jungkook, and you feel him smile before he even does, big and unreserved and then you feel it, the little pang in your chest, warmth warmth warmth spreading through your veins.

i think i like many someones, but i don’t know how to tell them!!!! this is then followed by a stream of emojis, only some of them resembling anger. You almost snort at the sight of a weirdly placed clown emoji and a little gray haired grandma.

There’s a moment of silence as you think of what to say that you won’t regret later. “I think you need to tell them,” you continue right as Taehyung starts typing a drawn out nooo, “They won’t treat you any differently, honey boy.”

Taehyung visibly recoils, shivers, takes a hold of your hand and types with his other, dont use logic ur mortal rules do not apply 2 me, he writes, only erases it when you’re done laughing, types again with shaky fingers, how do u know that?

You inhale a shaky breath. “Because if they really love you, romantically or not, they’ll want to see you healthy and happy regardless of whether they reciprocate your feelings.” You pause. "Which I’m sure they do.“ You attempt a knowing smile at him but he doesn’t get it, only stares blankly at the screen, thumb still tracing patterns on your skin.

im scared

You wriggle forward so that your brows are pressed together with his. He shivers. "You shouldn’t be. People that are meant to find each other will, remember? So people that are meant to stay with each other will, too.”

Silence. Taehyung stays still and for a moment you think you messed up, gave too much away, but then he leans down and presses his lips to your temple. Almost kissing you but not quite. “Thank you.” he murmurs against your skin, “Goodnight, baby doll.”

His head plops onto the throw pillow before he pauses, sits upright to lean dangerously close before nuzzling his head into your shoulder, hiding his face in the pillow quick. Scenting, you consider, then dismiss the thought.

You can’t see his face but there’s a faint taste of strawberries on your tongue. Ah, you think offhandedly. So that’s what his happiness tastes like.

You stay wound up in each other even as the heat is sweltering, and you wake up on a bed with Jimin pressed behind you and his legs tangled with yours and Jungkook somewhere between you and Taehyung, his cheek pressed to your collarbones and snores loud enough to reach the heavens and it all feels a little disorienting. Just a little bit too right.

You hope things with Jungkook will go well.

Even when you wake up before the sun, it’s warm.

Everything is warm, feels like lavender and rosemary and something soft all around. You think you can taste cherries and strawberries and something sweet, everything sweet.

And then you open your eyes and it all makes sense. Because that’s just how Jungkook and Jimin and Taehyung are, soft and sweet and floral until all the edges are safe enough to press against, all sugar spun words and sugar spun smiles. It makes you long for it, long for their sugar scrubbed lips against your skin.

But that’s not right, it’s not right to think that, so you steel yourself and peel open an eye and think that it’s best to get it over with quickly, like jumping into cold water. It hurts less that way, you learned.

“Guk,” You mutter first, softly, the man stirring only slightly beneath you. He turns and nestles his head deeper into your neck, his lips dragging a bit over the skin and you shudder because you can’t help it. “Kook,” you repeat but it’s even softer, your hands combing through his hair.

He hums a bit, and Taehyung shifts from behind him. The man opens his eyes in a sort of dissociative state but he still smiles, eyes meeting yours over Jungkook’s head, and you both share a knowing kind of smile, like you’re being let in on a secret. Jimin shifts from behind you, his touch cold in a way all vampires’ are, but oddly warm as his arms tighten around your middle, nose nuzzling the back of your neck.

You close your eyes and sleep a bit longer. You allow yourself just that. It’ll be the last time, you tell yourself, even though you’ve said that for way too long already.

When you wake again, it’s just you and Jungkook. Unsurprising, since Jungkook is the one that sleeps in the most, sleeps whenever he finds the chance. You look at the time, the clock blinking 10:36. You realize you’re not on the couch anymore, that someone must have moved you while you were sleeping. Heart aching at the thought that you must have been a bother.

You just lay there for a while in thought, reverting between looking at the ceiling and looking at Jungkook. The little constellation of freckles and blemishes on the apple of his cheeks. His cupid’s bow. The tangle of his eyelashes.

Laughter trickles through the closed door, bouncing around and fitting itself into all the corners and crevices, soft and warm and sweet. That’s the thing about them. You hear their voices, their laughter, and it burrows itself somewhere in your chest and makes itself at home and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out. You find trails of their laughter everywhere, find it when you open cabinets and it comes tumbling out, find trails of their smiles under cushions and fogging up all your mirrors.

You brush away Jungkook’s hair with your palm, lightly press your lips to his forehead in an almost-kiss. You think he shivers, but you were busy untangling your legs from his so you can’t be too sure.

When you close the door softly behind you and pad further into their apartment, you hear a noise of exasperation by the couch.

“The creature has risen,” Jimin remarks ominously.

“Amen.” Taehyung says, feigning surprise when you turn to look at him.

“You all suck,” you say and watch as they burst into a fit of giggles, your heart dangerously warm. “Sorry for staying over, I wasn’t planning to.”

“No, no, no,” Taehyung’s the first to reassure, gesturing for you to come closer. You comply, standing hesitantly by the back of the couch, and he turns to take your hands into his, his thumb drawing circles onto the back of it. You almost shiver. “S'okay, not your fault. And it’s nice having you here.”

You don’t comment. Try not to stare at his hands tangled in yours, try not to think of how warm he is. “Guk’s still sleeping,” you start, if only as a distraction, "I would wake him, but I don’t have the willpower.“

Jimin bursts from the couch, muttering an excited mantra of "I’ll do it!" as he does so. He almost passes you by but pauses, presses a kiss to your temple and a hand trailing softly down your arm and then— "Good morning, my little love.” before he disappears down the hallway. You try to steel your expression into something less soft and fond but when you turn Taehyung’s looking at you like he caught you in the act, his eyes and smile all giddy and warm. You look away quick, speed walking into the kitchen.

Their kitchen is a normal kitchen by all means, nothing overly exciting there. But when you turn there’s a teapot with a little cartoon bear and their oven mitts have polka dots on them and there are reminders glued to the fridge with little magnets that look like cats.

Dance practice at 2!, one says in cute cursive handwriting; Buy pickles at the grocery store!!! the other says covered in scrawls and doodles and too many exclamation points. You remember last night, remember the way Taehyung texts and just know it’s him, and feel hopelessly endeared.

The man in question suddenly trudges into the kitchen, and you try to purse your lips to keep yourself from smiling even as he pats your head and grabs a carton of juice from out the fridge. You catch a glimpse of several bags of blood in there and wonder what Jimin is up to with Jungkook. Jungkook’s sleepy noises and pursed lips and puffy eyes. Jimin sitting on the edge of the bed, combing through the werewolf's hair and looking down at him with a smile. Good god.

Taehyung grabs your wrist and leads you toward a cabinet, grip hopelessly soft. He opens it, takes out a mug with a printing of a dolphin jumping out the water. There are too many colors and it kinda looks like a Picasso painting. “Jiminie bought it for me from the last time he visited his family back in Busan. It’s the ugliest mug we own and also my favorite.”

He places it on the counter, pours juice into it as you laugh. The hybrid reaches to grab another mug, hands you one with a smiling Cinderella on it. “Thank you,” you mutter, soft.

He lunges forward abruptly, and there’s a smack on the center of your forehead when his lips meet your skin. He pulls away just as quick, shuffling away with his mug, but it’s still warm where he kissed you.

God. You’re so far gone.

You steel yourself as you approach Taehyung. He’s sitting on the far end of the table, pouring cereal into a bowl. You laugh lightly, going to sit opposite him, but he pulls you by the sleeve of your shirt to sit beside him, so you comply with a laugh.

There’s silence as you sip on your drink and as he eats his cereal. Then suddenly you mutter, just for the heck of it, "What’s your favorite color?“

The boy looks up, blinks, and you’re suddenly reminded of why you called him honey boy in the first place. He’s so, so pretty. "Hm?” he hums at first, chewing slowly at his cereal. “It, uh. Starts with a b and ends with a loo.”

“Ah.” You nod, “I like purple, too.”

Taehyung laughs, quick and sharp, then covers his mouth with a hand because otherwise he’d spit cereal all over the counter. You grin in delight because how could you not?

“Not funny,” The hybrid mutters after the laughter stops. He tries to keep a poker face but his smile keeps slipping.

“You laughed, though.” You point out but he doesn’t say anything, moves the cereal box between you both so you don’t see his face. You laugh.

It’s quiet again after that. A nice quiet. Like the ones you experience with family members and friends, people you’ve known your whole life. You haven’t known Taehyung your whole life - haven’t known him for much time at all, actually. You’d like to, though. Like to know where he’s most ticklish, what makes his brows furrow, what makes him laugh so hard he’s in tears and has everything tasting like strawberries.

“Hey, Taehyung?” You speak up for the first time in a while, Yeontan’s tail tickling your legs from under the table. He hums for you to continue, so you do, “Is it Jimin that dances?”

Taehyung’s expression contorts into so much open admiration your heart kinda aches a bit. “Yeah,” he says a bit breathlessly, “He’s really good at it, too. So pretty.”

“Oh.” You nod, because it makes sense. He’s graceful and slim and his legs are a bit too muscular, but you thought that had something to do with him being a vampire. Protein and all that. “I can imagine,” you say because you really can.

Taehyung nod nod nods and it’s then that the wood creaks, and you turn to find Jimin standing nearby, like a hell-beast you summon using words of praise. Jungkook is standing behind him, and you look down and see their hands intertwined and Jungkook’s face a bit flushed.

“They’re cute,” you hear Taehyung mutter, and you nod because it’s true. They’re good for each other. And if the way Taehyung stands up and throws himself on top of both of them says anything, all of them erupting into giggles and everything tasting sweet - he’s good for them, too. They all are. So good.

“Noona!” You blink blink blink and look up and Jungkook must have materialized beside you or something because he definitely wasn’t there before. “Jimin-hyung is complaining that Tae-hyung only fed you juice so now he’s making food! Don’t worry, it’s not some lame cereal or anything.”

You nod and he nods back. Ruffles your hair. Doesn’t kiss the crown of your head like he does sometimes, on some mornings where he’s cold and soft and half-asleep.

Jungkook coaxes you out the chair and leads you to the stove where Jimin is making eggs. Taehyung is there, too, and your familiar suddenly lets go of your hand just to burst into a sprint and slap the hybrid’s butt, says something about him having a perky bum before Taehyung is chasing him around the table while Jimin is laughing and you’re laughing and it’s a mess.

It all kinda feels like true love.

You really want it to be.

You’re in an aquarium. You’re not usually in aquariums, not without company, not with the children chasing each other around and the occasional happy couple that walks by to stare at an octopus or something. The things people do for love.

“I wanna be a marine biologist,” Hoseok says, chewing on a shrimp cracker. He’s wearing swim trunks and a navy blue shirt with a little fish on his chest. The gills on his neck are swaying softly. "I get to see fish and maybe show them to little kids sometimes. Oh, and swim in the big tanks after hours.“

"You can do that?”

He turns to you, something knowing glinting in his eyes. “Nope.” He says, popping another cracker into his mouth.

“Do all mermaids like to swim?” You ask, turning to him expectantly. He offers you a cracker from his little packet and you politely decline.

“Not really,” he hums in thought. “Some just prefer the land, ya know? I’d like to think their soul will always be tied to the ocean, though.”

You hum. “Yeah. I like the way you put it.” Is all you say. When you turn to look at him, he’s smiling.

Hoseok lets you look over his shoulder as he shows you pictures of him with his tail, blushes a pink just as bright as his tail when you compliment him. He pauses at a picture of him with purple seashells over his chest like Ariel, bursts into laughter with you.

You appreciate it. Appreciate that he’s not asking why you’re really here, sulking at a school of trouts.

“Hoseok-ah,” you say, pause when he hums in acknowledgement. He doesn’t push, just waits. His hair’s a bit wet, you notice. Smells a bit like chlorine and something soft. He’s shining with pixie dust and something else. “Um. At what point did you know you were in love with Yoongs?”

His whole body melts, human fondue. “It wasn't really a big revelation. At one point I just made a face at him and watched him laugh then thought ‘oh shit, do I love him' then I couldn’t unthink it, couldn’t undo it.” You watch as everything about him instantly melts with his smile. It was just the tiniest bit of tension, so small you couldn’t even notice it until it wasn’t there, that’s what melts away.

“Huh.” Is all you say, because there’s nothing you could say to that. “Then what made you tell him?”

“Red bull,” He says, laughs, “And tears, too. Can’t forget about those,” He looks at you and softens, looking impossibly honest. “And the thought that maybe I’d regret it if I kept it to myself.”

The mermaid turns and watches the same school of trouts pass by with you. Doesn’t say anything until you hear a gasp and he says all too loudly, “Holy shit that dude totally just winked at me.”

And you laugh, slapping lightly at his shoulder, “It’s a fish, they can’t even blink.”

“I swear that one just did.”

“They don’t even have eyelids!”

And maybe things are just a little more okay.

It’s another day. Another day that feels like an early morning but it really isn’t. A time of day in which the air is not yet cooled by autumn and the sun lines the side of your face lovingly.

Except the curtains are drawn and the air conditioner is at full blast, and Jungkook is napping on your bed when it’s five in the afternoon and his own bed is, like, down the hall.

“Guk,” you whisper, spot a blob of blankets that must be Jungkook and only a nose sticking out of it, as if he were under the covers until recently but had to get out for some air. You’re so fond. “Gukkie. Time to get up.”

You try to gently shake him awake but he only groans, trying to shuffle away from you on the bed. Breathing out a chuckle, you place the drink in your hand onto the bedside table before plopping yourself completely on top of him, hear it when he lets out a low oof.

He whispers a mantra of drawn out noo's under his breath before you see his head pop out, chin propped over the blankets as he watches you with his brows furrowed. You laugh in delight, catch it when he purses his lips to fight back a smile.

“What’s that smell?” The werewolf asks, voice low and groggy from sleep, his arms bursting from out of the covers to wrap themselves around your middle. You shuffle from on top of him until your cheek is laying on his chest, warm and comfortable, feel it whenever he draws in a breath, the rise and fall of his chest.

“Potion,” your voice is muffled from where your cheek is laying on his collarbone, but you know he hears you when you feel rather than see his face scrunch up in adorable disgust. You continue before he can voice his concerns, "But! It’s sweet. I put in some honey and a chocolate bar and some maple syrup. The syrup needed a little more persuasion to dissolve but a little flirting did the trick, I think.“

"Sounds like it tastes very sweet,” Jungkook says with a toothy grin, sitting up without letting go of you so you’re forced to sit up, too. You watch as he slowly moves to grab his drink, other arm resting on your hip, as if to stop you from moving, to keep you close. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “What’s it for? I don’t know what Tae-hyung told you, but I don’t have bowel problems, I swear.”

You laugh, tucking the comment away for another time. “Nothing like that, I think. It’s just warm.”

He hums, blowing ripples in his cup as steam wafts upwards and around. You watch-- feel – as he sips at his cup, as he shudders a bit when the warmth flows through his veins, as he presses the cup to his chest with half-lidded eyes, breathes out a little sigh.

You get up before you can stare any longer. You almost do, shuffling back and untangling your legs from his, but Jungkook startles and stops you with a hand lightly gripping your arm.

“Dinner- Guk, I gotta make dinner-” You say but it’s only to convince yourself, only to stop yourself from getting closer— but it hasn’t worked before and it isn’t working now.

Jungkook drags you back to bed, grip hopelessly gentle, as if to say you can go, you can leave if you want—but you don’t, you never do, so you let yourself be dragged; helpless for him, for this pretty boy in your bed.

His legs are around your waist and pulling you closer and you want this, you want this but you don’t want to want this, don’t know how to get closer without the words spilling—I like you I like you, like you so much, liked you for ages.

A chin is propped over your head, both his hands resting on your hips. The silence sticks, gentle with sleep and afternoon fog.

“Noona,” he murmurs, and you hadn’t realized when he started rocking you gently back and forth. “Noona, s'okay, right?”

You hum but it sounds distant, like you hadn’t said anything at all. It’s a pretty dream, you decide. It’s a pretty dream and you’ll sit here while Jungkook tells you pretty things.

His hands are trailing up and down your arms and you shudder, feel each individual line, and it’s skin that will never be the same now that it remembers what Jungkook’s touch feels like. It’s too much. Not enough.

(Jungkook had kissed you once before, back when you were both tipsy on secrets and laughter and a bottle of wine, alcohol no longer in any of your systems but you were both pretending it was. He'd leaned over, unthinking, when you’d laughed at something he said, had pressed both your lips together. You hadn’t reacted at first, were still for enough time to make him reconsider, make him recoil back, but then you were slipping your hands into his hair and tugging him back and he’d kissed you again, softly, soft enough to make you ache for it for weeks afterwards, like a bruise that wouldn’t heal.

“Guk,” you’d started the next day, finding him hunched over the couch, “could we talk, maybe-” but he’d cut you off cheerily, much too cheerily, “it’s okay, noona, I get it, it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine—”)

“Shit,” Jungkook says, sounding pained, almost. You look up at him but he’s already looking. He’s close. So close. Not close enough. “This is okay, right?”

You nod, not sure what he’s asking about but sure that it’s okay. With Jungkook, it always is.

He makes a soft little sound, like a hum and a growl and a sigh all mixed into one. It burrows somewhere in your chest and you don’t think you’ll ever get it out.

You’re not sure when the dam breaks. Not sure who moves first. But at some point you both do, meeting in the middle, angle off, teeth clicking. You kinda want to break it off just to laugh, just to blink and make sure this is all real, but Jungkook’s hands move to cup both your cheeks and keep you in place and then

then you’re kissing.

He doesn’t taste salty with wine. He tastes of lip balm and something sugary sweet. Just like you remember. Just like you dream of, sometimes. You think of this and smile so hard your cheeks ache and feel him smile back. It should be an awkward kiss, if anything- practically all teeth- but it isn’t, it’s nice, gentle.

Jungkook pulls back to breathe, to mutter something that sounds like oh, god, before he’s swaying back, back to you, pulling you close, impossibly close. He presses his lips to yours again and again and again—eyes shy and determined, lips careful and caring.

You pull back and Jungkook growls, something raw and oddly feral, but when you look up at him, startled, he looks equally surprised. "I swear that wasn’t on purpose.“ He sounds a bit out of breath. His too long bangs brush against his eyelashes and there’s a little bit of stubble on his chin. You laugh and kiss him there, right on his chin, hear it when he makes a soft little thing that sounds like a sigh. You wonder how many more sounds you can get out of him, how many more sighs you can steal from his lips and eat like summer cherries.

He does taste like that, though, you think. He tastes like cherries. Like happiness.

Jungkook gets closer still, whispers a breath against your lips, this is okay, right? this is okay? and you feel it even without words, feel it in the gentle press of his lips to yours. Feel it even when it’s not gentle, when it’s something deeper and hungry, sweeter and messier and open. It’s embarrassing how easy you say yes each time, but he doesn’t comment. Only smiles. Swallows the embarrassing sounds you make.

There’s a gentle press of a tongue to the seam of your mouth, to your bottom lip, let me in, it says, let me in, if you want. And you do, you do want it, so you let him, feel as he melts and sighs and sinks into you deeper still. He’s so pretty. You say so, when you both part, watch as he blushes the same color as the cherries he tastes like.

You don’t realize when you’re being set down softly on a pillow, Jungkook hovering over you, pressing kisses from the apple of your cheeks down to your jaw down to your collarbones. So beautiful, he murmurs, suddenly shy, and it makes you both smile and you can’t come back from this. Can you come back from this?

Dark eyes meet yours when you look up, round as truffles. Jungkook smiles a toothy grin, something giddy in his eyes that widens when you smile back. Then he’s leaning down and kissing you so softly it melts you down to your bones. You can’t come back from this.

You want this. You want to kiss him until he’s trembling and his bangs are sticking to his forehead. You want to hold his hand when he’s sad and have your hand held when you’re sad and sometimes hold hands just because. You want to have baths, sexy ones sometimes, with candles.

But you also want early mornings. You want to wake up to the sound of keyboards and Jungkook ushering you out of bed, noona let me help, noona look at what I made, noona let’s go outside, noona, noona, noona.

You want Jimin and Taehyung. You want to make them smile, want them to make you smile, want to wake up to their smiles. You want to give them presents and watch their faces contort into gentle surprise. Want to hang ornaments on Taehyung’s antlers and watch him smile when they jingle.

You can’t come back from this.

"Wait,” you gasp, “wait, wait, wait.”

Jungkook sits up so fast he looks dizzy. “Noona?” His voice sounds small and panicked. He comes to when you sit up, too, shuffling away from you quick, “Oh god. Oh god, I—I’m sorry, I don't—Oh, oh god.”

He tries to get out of bed but you grab him quick, “Wait, don't—don’t go. Just give me a second,” you’re breathing too quick. You breathe more slow, the way Jimin taught you how; three seconds in and three seconds out. “Just… give me a second.”

Jungkook looks up then down then up again. “Okay.” He sits back. Not close like before. There’s still a bit of panic in his eyes, just more on the edges now.

He holds his hand out to you wordlessly, looking down at the sheets. You accept the offer, intertwining your hands softly.

“You don’t, like, owe me an explanation or anything,” he speaks quick, “we don't—have to do anything,” he grimaces, "obviously. We obviously don’t have to do anything. If you wanted to before but don’t want it anymore, that’s fine, that’s fine too—"

“Guk,” You interject softly. He’s breathing too quick, too. “I want to do those things with you—I do, I really do. Wanted to for some time,” he’s looking at you now, and you try not to flush but fail miserably. “I just—wanted to get some things straight, and thought, um. WWND, you know?”

Jungkook smiles, the curl of his lips slow. “…What Would Namjoon Do?”

“Exactly!” You huff. There’s more to be said but you’re both smiling, so maybe that’s something.

“Um,” The werewolf says as the silence drags on, ears drooped against his head, “I’m still confused maybe a little.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I just need to know of, like. Feelings that may or may not be happening.”

“Feelings.” He mutters softly. His thumb is rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Looks at you shyly. “I like you,” he says all too easily—looks relieved at saying it, too, like the words have been waiting a long time to get out. “Those are my feelings.”

His words spread to the pit of your stomach, heavy and sweet, like how honey seeps into tea. It’s so fast. Everything is happening so fast you can’t wrap your head around anything. “Me?” you breathe in and breathe out quick. “You like me?”

Jungkook nods and nods again, hair bobbing with the movement. He shuffles a bit closer, hesitates, shuffles further away.

“Hey, no,” you almost coo, pull him so he can get closer and he does. “I like you, too. Liked you for ages.”

“Yeah?” He smiles slow, something big and giddy, teeth and all, shuffles closer still, “Yeah?” He asks again, almost nonsensically, not sure what he’s trying to confirm.

You smile just as big. “Yeah.”

Then Jungkook melts, turns to mush, shoulders drooping, “Oh, thank god. I just went through, like, nine stages of grief over our friendship that I thought I’d just ruined by making out with you.”

“Five—” you manage through your laughter, “Five- There are only five stages, Guk-ah.”

“Oh my god,” He looks at you, unimpressed, “I had, like, extra ones. I was that distressed. I like you so much.”

There’s silence and you both settle, let today’s events sit and simmer for a bit. It still feels unreal. Jungkook’s hand is still in yours, tethering you back to earth, and you feel the calluses of his skin as he trails nonsensical patterns on your hand.

“But,” you stutter when the silence drags for too long, “But I thought you were in love with Jimin and Taehyung?” You sound too vulnerable, you think. Too small.

“I am. I am,” He breathes in too quick, too sharp, breathes it out shakily, “but before I fell for them, I fell for you. It was always you.”

You want to say something, want to interject; and you’re about to, lips parted and everything, "But—"

You startle at the high pitched squeal Jungkook suddenly emits. He’s staring at his hands now, uses his free one to tug at his hair. “The hyungs! We planned to all talk together—Shit, dammit. Argh.”

You blink. “What.”

“Um!” He turns towards you resolutely. He lets go of your hand, regrets it, reaches back for it. “There are words that need to be said but I can't say them. Yet. And—” He makes another noise of frustration. “I wanna do this right. Will you let me do this right?”

You don’t know what he means by that. You’re still half expecting to wake up, to realize this is all a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time. Wouldn’t be the last, either.

You let yourself daydream sometimes, tell yourself it will ease the hurt. It never does, never eases, but you let yourself do it anyway. It’s all three of them in your daydreams. All three of them in this pretty world you created, in this little house where all four of you could wake up surrounded by warmth and everything is safe and soft enough to press against.

So you don’t know what to do. Don’t know what there is to do right. But you agree because it’s Jungkook, and you trust Jungkook, and sometimes he knows more than he lets on. “Okay.” you murmur.

You stay wound up in each other like it never happened, speaking softly to each other, Jungkook occasionally wrestling you for the blankets. You don’t talk about anything specific, just tiny things; that’s when I knew, that’s when I realized, that’s when I hoped. Sometimes Jungkook holds your hand while he talks and sometimes he doesn’t but that’s okay, too. When he lets go it’s cold but a sort of gentle one, makes you think,

look, look at how warm you can be.

There are still things to talk about but it’s fine. You have tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and so forth. For now, you’ll stay here where everything tastes like sugar. Spun-sweet.

That day didn’t come.

It’s been tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and even the day after that. Three days of you and Jungkook toeing around each other, three days of seemingly eternal suffering, only three days and now you’re in another person’s home sipping on another person’s cup of juice.

“Hey!” Namjoon frowns even as you give the cup back with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” You say, not apologetic in the slightest and he knows it, too.

There’s a month and a half left until Jin and Namjoon’s anniversary and they’ve both consequently used it as an excuse to bring everyone together. Again. Jin had said something about making use of our youth, even baked a cake and everything, and him and Hoseok are currently in the kitchen decorating it. Or, at least, they were.

“Jin-hyung, I think we failed a bit.”

“We? We? Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong! There is no we! What is this blasphemy! Where is your sense of propriety!” Seokjin shrieks while flailing one of those icing bags, and Hoseok ducks just in time to avoid getting nailed in the head by it, cackling loudly.

Yoongi intervenes, stepping between them, looks down at the cake and promptly bursts out laughing.

You follow and laugh lightly at what you see.

It’s a round vanilla cake and on top — written all too messily — are some almost indistinguishable handwriting written with some kind of blue paste. It says “happy anniversary na" then, as the space obviously wasn’t enough, the mjin is squeezed in at the side.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind and you all know Seokjin is only pretending to be annoyed, so you shuffle through the cabinets and hand Hoseok the single candle you’d found, watch as he sticks it in on the top. An act of redemption, on his part.

You all squeeze out of the kitchen after Yoongi as he carries the cake into the living room, sets it down onto the dining table. You feel oddly proud. Or maybe you’re just feeling what they’re feeling, simmering a bit in the pit of your stomach.

You all gather around on the couch where Jin pops a musical Hoseok had recommended into the TV. You somehow fall asleep somewhere between him dancing along with the characters and Namjoon belting out the lyrics and wake to a little bit of drool trickling down your chin and a bit onto someone’s shoulder.

You sit up with half-lidded eyes. Pat the person’s arm in sympathy for them, hear a deep chuckle in response and then — and then—

And then you look up and it’s Taehyung. Taehyung, whom you hadn’t even seen walk inside. Taehyung, who willingly sat next to you and let you sleep on his shoulder.

You drooled on him.

Drooled.

You stand up quick and panicked and try to mask it by wiping off your clothes and strolling into the kitchen like it never happened. You kinda either feel like questioning all your life decisions up to this point or letting out a long-winded shriek and you don’t know which to do first.

The latter option will be first, you think as Taehyung follows you into the kitchen.

"Um,” he mutters at first, clutching at the hem of his sweater. It’s beige and has a little chicken on the top right corner and is a pinch too short on him. You briefly wonder if it’s Jimin’s. “Hello.”

You blink and your tongue is suddenly ten times too big in your mouth. “Hi.”

“There’s icing on your shirt.” He grins.

You look down and there really is. You hadn’t even eaten cake, there was no way for it to get there. “There is.” you agree.

He hums. You hum back. Sometimes people associate your social failures with the fact that you’re a witch, and although you’re mildly offended, you mostly just like to roll with it.

The air’s a bit tense and you wish you could just go back to when talking was easy, when you’d ask where he got his belt and it would release the floodgates — that the belt was, in fact, a tie, of which he painted over to mimic the colors of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Which he then said is how he wanted to paint his wall, paint the wine shelves he’d keep beside his bed for when he wants to classily watch anime. He has big dreams. Makes your heart hurt.

Today, Taehyung’s eyes are painted a brighter color than usual. Makes your heart hurt, too.

He has nice eyebrows. You say so out loud, and he laughs. “Thank you. You have nice eyebrows, too.”

What is this. What is happening. Why are you complimenting each other’s eyebrows. “Um,” you start, “what’s up?”

“Oh!” He says, as if he’d just now remembered. “I just wanted some, um.” He grabs a cup out the drawer, one that’s red and made of plastic, not cute like the ones he has at home, the ones he’s so fond of. “I just wanted some punch.”

Taehyung pours some grapefruit punch into his cup, pale-pink in color. “You should dye your hair that color,” you start, almost regret it when he turns to look at you, but he looks curious so you continue, “it’d look nice on you.”

His cheeks are that color, you think. Pale-pink. “Yeah.” He says and that’s that.

You two walk back and the credits are rolling and everyone’s spread around separately. Jimin’s here too, you notice, see him laughing in a corner with Hoseok. Convince yourself it’s not you he’s looking at when you pass him by.

You and Taehyung end up sat together on the couch, curling in close. This is nice, you think, startle when he turns to face you. “What’s nice?”

“Uh,” you panic and hurry to elaborate, “being close, I guess. With someone. S'nice.”

For a second you think he might laugh but he only turns, considering. His arm is around you, hanging loosely over your waist. You feel cocooned and safe despite yourself.

“Do you want that?” You face him but he isn’t looking at you, only looking ahead intently as if deep in thought. “Do you want someone to be close with?” His eyes are open and soft and somewhat unsure.

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. Taehyung turns, frowns. “Do I?”

“What do you mean?” He murmurs, and your smile droops at how hesitant he sounds.

“What do you mean?” you retort, brows furrowing.

Jimin pads over just then, as if sensing the slight commotion. You half expect him to ask what’s going on, half expect yourself not to know how to answer because what is going on?— but he doesn’t, doesn’t do that, only sits on your other side, places a hand on your knee.

“This, see, you do this,” you start, gesturing to Taehyung’s arm over your waist, to Jimin’s hand on your knee and his hand on your back, thumbnails dragging softly over your spine. “But it’s not real, I know it isn’t.”

Taehyung’s looking at you a bit too intently. Jimin is, too, his eyes glinting gold. You see the surprise cross both their faces.

“Who says it isn’t real?” Taehyung says with a frown.

“Y/n, love, we like you.” Jimin adds, voice hushed as if he’s telling a secret.

“..I know,” you start, brows furrowed in confusion. You know they like you, at least a little bit, otherwise they wouldn’t have invited you over to their home so many times. Then why are they looking at you like that? “I mean, I like you, too.”

“Baby, what Jiminie means is that we’ve been trying to court you for, like, two months.”

Your mouth is dry. You try to swallow once, twice, taste salt and feel your throat get icky.

“Should we settle this at home?” Jimin asks, more to Taehyung than to you but you answer anyway,

“No! No. I just—need some air.”

Outside is a bit cold and Namjoon’s windowsill has too many potted plants he most likely can’t care for and the sky is softly settling, clouds hanging gently overhead. You look up and Taehyung’s face is a bit blurry but his antlers are easy to spot. They make him look taller, softer. Sometimes when you’re talking his ears flicker towards you and that’s when you know he’s listening even without saying anything at all.

Right now, he’s shifting from foot to foot as if he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. But that’s not right, Taehyung’s not one to be uncomfortable in his own skin, so this gentle rocking of his makes you feel strange. Seasick, almost.

Everything seems sort of suspended, like the world is hanging by a drop of nectar, waiting.

“Let’s talk, my little love.”

You almost startle at the term. Jimin looks proud at having said it, too, pretty grin and all. You need to focus. “Okay.” You nod. Taehyung gestures for you to continue, so you do, “You said you were, um. You were courting me?”

Taehyung nods. “Yes.” He says with so much confidence your heart kinda ached a bit.

“So.. what does that mean?”

“It means we want to date you.” Jimin’s the one to say, a nervous but firm whisper.

The silence drags on like a lip being dragged through teeth, slow and deliberate. Your organs feel wobbly inside. They’re doing that thing where they communicate with their eyebrows. They all have impossibly expressive eyebrows.

You feel the immense need to sit down, so you do. You sink to your knees and they’re reaching out quick, ready to console, but freeze when you let out a long-winded shriek. “WHAT?" you sputter, ”WHY?“

"Why?” Jimin says, hums, considering. “Because we like you. Maybe not love yet. But we’d like to,” he crouches so you’re both face-to-face, smiles soft, “we’d like to love you. If you let us.”

“But—” you feel the need to say something, but don’t know what. “But Jungkook?”

“Baby,” Taehyung’s crouching now, too, almost taking a hold of your hand but stopping himself, “we talk about this, like, every wednesday.”

“What? It’s, like, a reunion sort of thing?” You sputter, mouth agape.

Jimin huffs out a small laugh, almost of disbelief, slapping lightly at Taehyung’s shoulder, “No, no, Taehyung-ssi here doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Taehyung tries to look serious, fails, and Jimin is smiling when he turns back to look at you. “We talk about it at least once a week, though.”

You still feel the need to say something but you feel like you’re running out of things to say. “But you’re all,” you run out of words then, gesture wildly at them from top to bottom.

Taehyung looks delighted. Jimin waits for you to elaborate, bites at his bottom lip when you don’t, asks tentatively, “…Yes?”

“You’re all— so pretty.” You mutter, exhausted. “And nice. And funny. And I’m just—” your arms drop to your sides.

“Little love,” Jimin’s the one to say, the one to get close, not afraid to get his clothes dirty as he shuffles towards you, “you’re also absolutely pretty, and nice, and funny, and beautiful.”

“I am?”

They grin. “You are.”

“Oh.”

The three want to date you. The three have wanted to date you for a while. The three are pretty and kind and make you feel seen, think you're pretty and kind, care enough to talk about it at least once a week and it all feels a bit unreal.

Your throat goes tight. You pick at your nail beds. Feel your blood pump the wrong way, its gentle waltz out seemingly of rhythm, one, two, three, one, two—what goes next?

“I–okay. Okay,” you stand up quick, rub some dirt off your knees, see Jimin point at them and giggle a bit. “Can we tell Jungkook? Do you wanna tell him now? I just. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

Jimin coos, takes a hold of your hand, kisses your temple after a second like he couldn’t help it. You think you hear Taehyung laugh from behind you.

They walk you home and you let them inside, their hands lingering on your back and on your shoulder, and Jungkook sputters when he sees you three, sitting up from the couch with a start. “Huh?” Is all he says.

“Hello!” Taehyung says with the biggest grin before getting straight to the point, "We confessed!“

"Y/n said yes!” Jimin adds, equally giddy.

“I’m a little drunk on punch!” You say, “But I still want to date you!”

Jungkook looks like a gaping fish for a second before there’s a twitch of his lips and then he’s smiling, slow and deliberate, pretty pretty pretty. He stands, pads over slowly and then quick, knocking the breath out of you, his arms tight. The rest join in and you’re all laughing and you’re all hugging and it feels like the beginning of something.

I want to be with you all,

then they’re all on you, soft and sweet, and

are you sure, and liked you for so long and are you super sure, don’t you need time to think, don’t you need more time to think, and smell so nice, you smell so nice, wait is that weird, and noona and little love and baby doll and—

they taste like love, like could-be love, and they feel like

y/n

home.

Jungkook’s planting tangerines in your backyard, spurred on by Jimin’s love for them. Taehyung’s there too, energetic and wild in a way only Taehyung can be, but gentle when he volunteers to fill up the watering can, patting and smoothing at the humid soil. He dyed his hair again. It’s the color of pink hyacinths now, the color of the punch he’d drank — pale-pink.

You’ve grown even more fond of your store. Or maybe you’ve grown more fond of what’s inside. Who’s inside. You like how it smells like licorice tea now, how Jimin always opens the windows to let the warm spring breeze inside, the vines and buds and flowers spilling inside like overeager children. You like the music that Taehyung plays on the speakers, jazz and Kehlani and the occasional Girl’s Generation. You like how your sheets always smell a bit like Jungkook.

Yoongi’s staring at you. He stares at a lot of people, but he’s been staring at you the most these days. You tear your gaze from the window, raising a brow at him as he occupies the entirety of the love seat in the corner that’s actually meant for two people. “Why’re you looking at me?”

“Ah.” Is all he says at first. You wait for some sort of sheepish smile, but it never comes. “Your aura. It's prettier these days.”

“Oh.” You blink. “What color is it?”

He turns, gaze shifting to the window you’d just been looking out of. You stare, too. Taehyung looks up just then, waves at you, a streak of dirt on his cheek. You smile lightly, wave back with the same amount of enthusiasm. When you look at Yoongi again, he’s already looking at you.

“You know when the sun is just about to set, and the sky is a mix of pinks and blues and oranges?” He smiles, a soft thing, and stands up. Touches lightly at an invisible barrier around you that’s not at all invisible to him. "That’s what it looks like. Like the gold of the sunset.“

a/n: here it is folks!! i didn’t like some of the scenes but i tried my best. some parts didn’t fit well here so i had to rearrange them a lot, and others i fit into the epilogue!! hope you enjoyed! spaced out is next i swear

[leet911]

Flowers in the Fall

Fandom: Critical Role Pairing: Keyleth/Yasha Word Count: 1988 Warnings: Spoilers, nothing else Description: A sequel to Flowers from the Tempest the only Keyleth/Yasha fic I know of (also written by me incidentally).

---

Yasha knows that Keyleth cheats the seasons, just a little bit. Because even though it is well into autumn, there are still flowers blooming in this field. The leaves have changed, and the northern winds already carry the promise of winter, but summer blossoms are what they associate with their connection, so Keyleth’s magic pushes back against the inevitable tide of the seasons. Summer is when they became friends, bared their grief to each other, and let the storms wash it away.

With a wave from the druid, the tree above them sprouts a few more leaves and a pure white flower, as fresh as the first day of spring.  It won’t last of course, Yasha knows this, but she likes the flowers.  And Keyleth is here, right next to her, leaning against the same tree trunk, crafting plants all around, while Yasha strums scales absently on her harp.

Despite the rushing winds, it is not cold.  Yasha thinks that’s also because of Keyleth, but she hasn’t yet found the right words to ask.  This is Xhorhas after all, and there is no way it’s this warm this late in the year.  And Yasha isn’t even sure what they are to each other.  She only knows that Keyleth visits often nowadays, that they sit in this meadow (their meadow), and that Keyleth doesn’t hide inside a tiger anymore.  Sometimes Yasha plays music, and sometimes Keyleth weaves powerful magic; but mostly they sit and talk about stupid things.  They talk about flowers and friends, and fate and fighting, and days gone by and dreams about forever.

It’s only been a few weeks, and they’ve spoken – truly spoken – only a handful of times.  And they’ve never seen each other anywhere besides here, in this field.  And Yasha isn't sure if she's allowed to ask, but she does anyway.  “Where do you go when you leave this place?"

Because this is Yasha’s spot, this little patch of Xhorhas that Keyleth has made beautiful.  This was Yasha’s spot even before Keyleth.  But she wonders if Keyleth does this for herself too, if she lets herself have beauty and wonder on her own sometimes.

The druid stands, holds out her hand.  "Come with me."  She recites the words to a spell, her eyes flare with power, and the tree before them splits open like a tunnel.

Yasha looks up at the redhead, takes the outstretched hand.

They step through, Yasha first and Keyleth following close behind.  It’s early morning on the other side, the rising sun framing a collection of huts and houses nearby.  The air feels thin, like they are up in the mountains.  There is movement in the village, but in this clearing there is only an empty fire pit and no one else around.

“This is Zephrah, my birthplace,” Keyleth says, gesturing towards the village.  “And this is the Raven Tree.”  She points behind them.

There is a tree where they emerged, nearly empty of leaves, with a large raven perched in it.  As Yasha watches, another raven arrives, then another, and another, until it is an entire flock of birds gawking at them.  There are so many ravens Yasha is afraid the branches will break and the tree will collapse.

The ravens are quiet, only the rustle of wings and their heads turning as they eye the two women.  Yasha tenses, nervous, because she doesn't understand how there can be so many birds here, even if this is called the Raven Tree. Keyleth holds her hand tight though, and Keyleth doesn't seem concerned, even if there are tears streaming down her face.

As one, the ravens shriek, a deafening cry that shatters the dawn. Then they flee in a giant beating of wings, scattering in all directions, until there is only a single raven left.  The largest raven, the first one that Yasha saw, remains looking at Keyleth, questioning.  Yasha doesn't understand, but she's not a druid, and she knows Keyleth has a connection with animals.  They stand side by side in the morning light, and Yasha feels like she’s being judged; the two of them holding hands in front of the Raven Tree.  The large bird flutters to a lower branch, caws twice.  Keyleth seems to be answering the raven's gaze with a teary one of her own.  

The antlers bob up and down as Keyleth nods, and Yasha can almost swear she sees the raven nod back.  Then the bird opens its wings and flies off into the rising sun.

Keyleth is trembling, palms sweaty where her hand touches Yasha's.

"What just happened?" The aasimar asks.

“I lost someone too, a long time ago.”

And Yasha thinks she understands that, the guilt and uncertainty and am I even allowed to do this?  Because that felt almost like asking for permission.  She doesn't know Keyleth's story, not fully, but her own heart screams just as loud sometimes when she looks at her scrapbook full of flowers. Neither of them has a reason to feel guilty about this, not for real, but emotions don’t always make sense.  Yasha’s grief is still tied up with memories of impotence and inadequacy.

Keyleth's loss seems like it was longer ago.  But also much more powerful, linked to the magic of this place, and this tree, and maybe even the ravens.  Keyleth has never mentioned it before.  

And Yasha isn’t one to pry, so they are silent for a long moment before Keyleth continues.  "Vax was a champion of the Raven Queen.  He traded his soul for this world."

Yasha doesn’t know exactly what that means, but she does know anguish and sorrow and regret, and that those things do fade, that having friends helps, and maybe Keyleth is the one that showed her they’re allowed to move on, even if it doesn’t feel that way.

So Yasha puts her arms around Keyleth, wraps the druid in a hug, and holds the Voice of the Tempest close.

When Keyleth composes herself a few minutes later, she draws up to her full height, and Yasha can see she deserves to be leader among her people.  Keyleth is powerful, vulnerable, empathetic.  She is strong and beautiful and everything Yasha wishes she could be.

They don’t go into the village that day, because Yasha is far too nervous to meet anyone.  Jumping across Exandria also changed the time of day.  It is evening in Xhorhas, but morning here.  Seeing the sun climb the sky again makes Yasha feel like they were up all night.  And Keyleth has a house in the village of course, but she also has lots of hideouts in the mountainside, lots of private spots that are hers alone.  She takes Yasha to one of them, an isolated copse of trees overlooking a cliff.  Beneath them, the valley is a panorama of autumn colours, bursts of red and gold punctuated with swaths of evergreens.

Keyleth fits right into the scene, her mantle blending with the colours below.  She looks regal to Yasha, standing atop the cliff with her staff and circlet, surveying the mountain like some benevolent protector.  This is how Yasha thinks of her, some mystical spirit of nature, attuned to the land.  Maybe that's why Keyleth is different in Xhorhas, away from this place.  In their little field, it's just them, and their blooms.  Here, she still has the weight of responsibility nearby.

She is pensive for a moment, and her profile shows her resolve.  Then she turns to Yasha and her face softens.  When she speaks, it is almost shy.  "Do you want to stay for a bit? Or I could send you back home if you want."

This seems meaningful to Yasha, portentous.  She knows why Keyleth is hesitant.  They’ve never done this before.  And it’s not nighttime, but this feels like she's being asked to spend the night.

They never talk about spending time together, it's just something they do.  They don't arrange to meet, they just show up at the same place all the time, and the day passes.  They don't make plans, they don't do activities or dates.  They talk, and bask in each other's company.  Yasha never asks for more. She's not sure she's supposed to.  And the power is in Keyleth's hands anyway.  Keyleth is the one who comes and goes as she pleases.

So this is new.  This is not neutral ground.  This is Keyleth's homeland.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes," with a dip of her staff the trees fold out around them, cocooning them in this spot and shutting out the world beyond the view of the valley below.

Keyleth sits, shifts her mantle so that they are touching arms, skin to skin.  Yasha shivers, not from the cold.  She's touched Minxie so many times, nuzzled the white fur, but that didn't seem like it was Keyleth then.  This is warm skin against her, a thin smooth arm beside her sturdier one.  Yasha knows their strength is different.  She knows the druid’s humanoid body is not indicative of her true power.

Without words, they lean against each other for a long time, breathing quietly, until Keyleth turns and kisses Yasha on the temple.  Yasha holds her breath, waits for Keyleth to take the next step, but none comes.  Keyleth is always the one with the initiative, always careful not to overstep boundaries.  Except that first time.  Yasha wonders exactly what happened in Keyleth’s past.

So Yasha takes the leap instead, holds Keyleth's chin in place so they can kiss properly.  When their lips touch, Keyleth melts against her and the kisses don't stop.  Maybe they both need this.

They break apart many minutes later gasping for breath.  Yasha thinks she can smell their excitement in this grove.  Keyleth looks away, embarrassed. 

She conjures a gentle breeze, to cool them off and clear the air.  To further distract them, Keyleth fashions a harp out of magic, crafted from wood and animal hair, a gnarled viny affair with little flowers adorning it.

"Can you play something? Anything?"

Yasha understands wanting company but not wanting to talk, looking to fill the silence.  She thought Keyleth knew they were past that.  That it's fine to sit in silence and just be together, to feel and process your own experience without holding back, without being alone.

Yasha understands, but she plays for Keyleth anyway.  So she plays something faster, with energy, and hopefully uplifting.  Maybe this is more her usual fare, but not to Keyleth.  These aren't the haunting melancholic melodies Keyleth has heard before.  This also isn't Yasha’s harp, but she pushes through the unfamiliarity.  If it's less than stellar, Keyleth doesn't show it, she just drapes herself around Yasha and lets the music carry her.

When the song ends, Keyleth smiles into Yasha's shoulder. "That was really nice."

"My friends used to joke about starting a metal band where I could play the rock harp.  Yasha and the Orphanmakers, we were going to call it."

Keyleth laughs at that, the image of Yasha jumping around on a stage, harp in hand, hair flailing around wildly as loud music echoes beneath the moonlight.  She can picture it in her mind.  She glances at Yasha, catches her eye and the end of a smirk.

“I would love to see Yasha and the Orphanmakers perform.”  Keyleth wraps her mantle around them like a blanket, lets out a long sigh.  She feels happy here, content in a way she hasn't felt in quite some time.  Keyleth looks skyward, and there is not a single raven nearby.  And she strains to hear their caws, but there are none of those either.

Yasha too, looks for the storm clouds that always follow her, but the sky is blissfully clear today.  There is only the sun, shining down on them and the canopy of colours below.  This is not the doing of Keyleth’s magic.

This is just Keyleth.

[antikristvs]

Inktober Writing Challenge

Day 7: A Campfire Story

( I tried to make Judith’s tale as alike with an actual story told around a campfire in manner as I could. Also... the monster was named after you, @cthulhu-is-metal ​ ! Hope you enjoy )

It was a lovely night of late August. Not a tiniest cloud obscured the somber abyss of velvety nocturnal sky  peppered in tiny silver eyes of idly shimmering stars. From time to time, a blazing orb would sear through the bottomless sphere, rousing a fluttering wish in a heart or two before it suddenly faded. On a hill in midst of fields swayed by light summer’s breeze, golden bonfire cheerfully rumbled, feather-light sparks ascending up into the pleasantly warmed air - some slowly, some rapidly, dancing and twirling like snowflakes lit on fire by a mysterious force.

Inside the pulsing circle of light embracing the bonfire, a company of four sat on old stubs of trees long fallen, delightful scent on roasted marshmallows and sweet sound of laughter lingering around them.

“Mine burnt again!..” complained youngest of the party, a girl no older than seven, cuddled in a fluffy pink sweater quite too large for her “Make one for me, Marcus!”.

“Five dollars” an impish grin crooked the lips of a twelve year old boy beside her, whose sweet, unlike his sister’s coal-turned one, looked softly smoked and tasted.

“Grandpa, Marcus is being mean again!”.

“Don’t bicker” an elderly gentleman on the other side of the campfire scolded the two children, yet did not seem angry at all “I shall make one for you, Jenna. Would you guys like some cocoa?”.

Little Jenna nodded with excitement, however Marcus merely frowned, his marshmallow already cold “I wish we could have hunted down some rabbits… or even a deer! That would have made a fun adventure, and a tasty meal…”.

“Are you stupid?” oldest of the children, a girl of fourteen quietly sipping tea beside her grandfather, unexpectedly spoke up “You can’t hunt in these woods, Marcus. You should know that by now”.

“But why?” Jenna piped in surprise.

“You have not heard the story?..” Marcus gasped, only to jump in glee as his little sister shook her head “Tell us, grandpa! Tell us about the monster”.

Grandpa pondered for a short while, before announcing “I think… It’s time I pass Judith the honor. Judy dear, will you?.. It’s a tradition! Remember?..”.

Judith sighed, obviously not as entertained by the campout as her siblings, however began, her voice growing strangely low, reflections of the blaze turning her youthful face eerily mystical:

“Nobody remembers where he came from… Nobody could, for was here before the first villager, before the first field of crops. Perhaps… Perhaps he is is older than mankind itself. Few had met him eye to eye, even fewer lived to tell the tale, but he is whispered to appear an enormous black stallion covered in rotting wounds, with hooves overgrown by moss, and huge elk’s antlers upon a head of a shepherd hound… well, skull of a hound, for flesh had long withered away, only bare bone remaining. His presence was always accompanied by a swarm of violet moths, and lingering scent of blooming lilac. Everyone who heard his voice got sick and died, yet one old woman survived long enough to mention it sounded like a hundred voices speaking at once, all singing, howling and hissing at the same time. Not a soul knew his true name, for if he held one, he had never revealed it, though the villagers fondly referred to him as “Violet-gazed Joe” because, in spite of having no eyes, or them being long decomposed, bright violet will-o’-wisps burnt at the depth of his sockets. Indeed, as violet as his swarm of moths… Actually, many said the insects too were his many many unblinking eyes, soaring through the woods, through swaying rye and through golden wheat... People respected him as much as they were petrified of him… They would not hunt creatures of the forest in which he lived, or chop wood - only pick deadwood, as well as collect berries, herbs and mushrooms, always leaving some for wild beasts to feast on too, of course. Some even named Violet-gazed Joe a god and worshipped him, slaughtering newborns to bury at the edge of the forest, or at the end of their family’s field. Violet-gazed Joe was always kind to the villagers… Those who spilled blood, which he gladly drank, in his name, would always attain a harvest of immense prosperity, no illness plagued them, and a beautiful bush of lilac would bloom from the ground where the sacrifice laid. Meanwhile when winter dawned especially grim, people would find a trail of crimson petals leading towards the heart of the forest - a sign for them to hunt woodland beasts for food and fur, and chop down trees to warm their homes, all without a punishment. Violet-eyed Joe looked after them. He was a force nature, tender and ruthless alike, always obeying her law…

But slowly, the villagers became greedy, losing fear and piety towards Violet-eyed Joe, only a few remaining loyal, warning others about a disaster coming if they do not cease the violence. They were not heard, rapacity blinding families and neighbors alike… They were not wrong... More and more traps were scattered around the forest. Countless creatures lost their lives. Trees collapsed one by one, groaning in final agony. It enraged Violet-eyed Joe. Many of those who wounded the forest became ailed, vomiting blood, losing eyesight and growing to resemble corpses more than living beings. They died like flies after tasting a poisonous fungus. However still, after burying loved ones, they would resume and inflict pain to nature which forlong years had watched over them…

Thus one night, primeval screams shook the village, so loud they rippled miles through the crops. People shot up from fevered sleep, only to find their spouses, their mothers and fathers, their children… all writhing and convulsing on the ground, swarmed by a vicious cloud of amethyst violet moths. Paralyzed by dread and sense of doom, the spared ones watched, listened… when at last the most flew away, pouring out through open windows, so many they obscured the sickly full moon… few details were uttered through time about the horror their unfortunate minds witnessed, for it is simply too dire for mortal tongue to describe. It is said the faces were stagnated in perpetual fear…Carcasses were left skinless… The moths, breathing acid in wrath of nature, as well as of Violet-gazed Joe, had melted it, and devoured it, only drops of gruesome, thick yellowish liquid staining reeking, swollen meats. Mysteriously, hearts of the victims had been ripped out of their chests and clutched by their lifeless hands, yet somehow, no ribcage was damaged… perhaps it was a symbol of their heartless greed… A few who frantically glanced outside swore to have caught a glimpse of Violet-gazed Joe himself in midst the fog of his fluttering minions, observing the unfolding nightmare in sorrowful satisfaction.

After this scourge, the villagers did learn their lesson, and once again left the forest in peace. Violet-gazed Joe seemed to have forgiven them. At least he was never seen again, apart from the distant sound of hooves echoing through the woods on silent nights, and strange, shimmering violet moths still spotted from time to time, but never caught. He became a legend told in sleepovers and around campfires. Younger generations began to simply call him “the monster”... But still, no one can deny, that most children who wander into the forest alone…” Judith fell silent, and suddenly, her lips contorted in a pretentiously sinister grin “Do not come back!”.

Jenna and Marcus squealed, mortified and joyful at the same time, the young girl clinging to her brother. Grandpa chuckled softly, amused by their wide-eyed reaction.

“Very good, Judy, very good! I always said you shall make a great storyteller. Don’t be spooked, Jenna, it is nothing but a story. Now, truly, who wants some cocoa?... It is going to taste ugly if we delay any more”.

They all remained oblivious to an enormous shadow, watching the rumbling campfire from afar. Hard was to name his shape, yet who could mistake those violet will-o’-wisps shimmering in hollow sockets of his pale skull.

[norfolknaturalist]

ALGONQUIN OBSERVATIONS (DAY ONE)

In the middle of July, for the past 4 years, my wife and I have taken a trip to Algonquin Provincial Park. It’s started to feel like coming home when we arrive within the boundaries of the park, the horizon filled with trees, rocks, and lakes. We look forward to it every year, and this year (as always) we spotted some interesting creatures, that live fascinating lives. Over the next little while, I want to post about the creatures that I observed while at Algonquin Provincial Park for a week.

On our first day there, I didn’t take any pictures. We got our campsite in the Pog Lake campground set up and tried to stay cool in the extreme humidity. The entire week we were there (July 15-21) there was a total fire ban active because of the risk of forest fires. Even though enjoying a campfire at night is one of the most iconic components of camping, we had a great time without any.

Monday morning, the heat was starting to build and the humidity was still thickening the air. As I was sitting in my chair, reading on our site (a very common activity for me) I noticed a bizarre little insect on the arm of my chair. At first I thought it was a spider, doing the quick counting of its limbs. But then I realized that the first two ‘legs’ were actually extremely long antennae. It had large spherical eyes plopped on either side of its head and a mottled dark-and-light pattern along its length. Even now, I have only been able to identify it to an Order of Insects known as Barklice (Order Psocodea), which contains about    11 000 different species. Included in the order, but obviously quite different, are the ‘true lice’, the more itchy kinds, whereas the one on my chair would have been more interested in plants than mammals.

Before the day heated up too much, I wanted to get out and hike along one of Algonquin Park’s trails. I headed off for the Spruce Bog Boardwalk trail with my camera equipped with macro lens for the little critters I hoped to find. The Boardwalk extends through a bog, the dry-green plants concealing the water below. Tall and thin Black Spruce trees are the only trees able to survive in the acidic conditions here, and they form a patch of woodland through the middle section of the trail.

Upon entering the woods, I spotted a flash of orange among the bark. The source was a Compton Tortoiseshell Butterfly (Nymphalis l-album), showing glimpses of the beautiful orange dorsal side of its wings and then closing them again, looking like an extension of the tree trunk.

Within the woods, I encountered many less savoury insects, such as the mosquitoes and deer flies that sought my flesh and blood. Their assaults convinced me to move fairly quickly through the humid air, when I wasn’t bearing their attacks to focus the lens on some beautiful insects such as the red-lined leafhoppers (Graphocephala) that appear more tropical than temperate in nature:

I also happened upon a robber fly (Family Asilidae) perched on the edge of an overhanging leaf:

While crossing a boardwalk with a wood railing, I noticed something projecting downward from the lower surface. It was an egg case, placed there by its producer: a spider with the scientific name Theridiosoma gemmosum:

Once back in the sun, the attention of the deer flies and mosquitoes thankfully waned, and I came upon the patch of wildflower meadow that borders a turn in the trail. There I was able to photograph many insects among the array of flower petals. There were Tachinid Flies, a group of flies that develop as parasitoids (parasite-predators, see “Close Encounters of a Wasp Kind”) inside of other arthropods. A wonderful bundle of gold-and-orange colour bounded from flower to flower, and I managed to capture its image: that of a Tri-coloured Bumble Bee (Bombus ternarius). Also present was an insect that straddled the worlds of bee and fly. The Orange-legged Drone Fly (Eristalis flavipes) appears to be a bumblebee but is in fact a fly, that simply mimics the bumblebee’s shape and colour pattern, down to the golden fuzz on its thorax.

A Tachinid fly traveling over flower petals.

Bumblebees do not sit still for very long.

A Bumblebee-mimicking fly: the Orange Legged Drone Fly (Eristalis flavipes).

Why mimic another creature? Why not look distinct as so many other insects do? Most likely the fly is afforded protection by looking like a stinging bee, rather than like a ‘harmless’ fly, though I knew just how harmful flies could be thanks to the gouging mouthparts of the deer flies I had recently escaped.

Among these flowers I found another of the Compton Tortoiseshell butterflies, no longer hiding on the trunk of a tree, but beautifully spreading its orange wings to the sun:

Leaving the wildflower meadow behind, I continued down the last leg of the trail, which was rather sandy. Though I had left most flowers behind, I did manage to capture a few more beautiful insects on my camera. One of which was another bee-mimic, though to my eyes a much less effective one than the Eristalis. This fly was a member of the aptly named bee-fly family (Bombyliidae) and was probably another parasitoid like the Tachinid fly:

As I crouched to take the picture of the bee-fly on the sandy path, a small butterfly landed delicately on a flower right in front of me. The opportunity felt too good to be true, but I thankfully was able to train the macro lens upon its silvery wings before it fluttered off mere moments later. The butterfly was a Bog Copper (Lycaena epixanthe), an appropriate finale for my tour of the Spruce Bog trail:

After visiting the Algonquin Bookstore, and perusing the many tempting titles, I headed back to my campsite, before my wife and I decided to go for a drive. We went down the Opeongo Road, a good road to spot wildlife, as it is surrounded on both sides by woodlands that give way to wetlands. Any area that is a transition between two habitat types is a great place to view wildlife from either habitat. We were rewarded with probably the most iconic animal of Algonquin Provincial Park in plain sight: the imposing and wild Moose (Alces americanus). The male Moose (as evidenced by the protruding antler stubs above his ears) waded through the water, cropping vegetation with its powerful lips and teeth, lifting its large head to gaze around solemnly as it ate.

A fitting end to our observations during our first full day in Algonquin Provincial Park.

[catalyticvicar]

✛ MONOLOGUE. prologue - 01

✛ Cinder flies around the hall like insects. Ash eats away at the regal murals that once covered the ceiling with holy depictions, leaving it pale and rigid. The once polished tiles now stood filthy, worn away from time. When this floor began to rot, it was something the Cleric Beast couldn’t answer. From his pedestal, a collage of furniture that once littered the cathedral, he inspected the remains of the art. For how many times had he seen the cracks that scattered across the ceiling? Each and every detail, for all eternity, he could recount every single one. And yet, it was all he could remember. The smallest fraction that remains of memory.

✛ Fire burns into the nerves of his brain. it has no worth as an antlered monster. His dry gaze cranes to the statue he leaned upon - a woman tossing a vase of stone water. perhaps in droll humor, he made his lounge where he would’ve felt the splash. No satisfaction had come from it, but as he was human at one point, he still retains that force of habit - he remained locked in that spot. His drowsy mind found no sleep from his uncomfortable makeshift throne for his blood and bones flickered in daylight forevermore, exposing his burnt flesh and lightly illuminating his fur. It pained him, inescapable. The Vicar had hoped it would eventually eat away at him, rendering him ash finally so it’d stop hurting.

✛ He’d come to terms that it was hopeless to wait - no, rather - that he was hopeless. The rumble of shouts and slurred cries of fury echo’d from the entrance, but fell upon deaf ears, from their cockney accent - other Yharnamites. Ones that’ve gone mad with blood on their hands. No clanging steel or canon shot drowned out the flames of regret and the drips of blood, relentlessly filling up his cracked skull. His body burns, though his flickering sanity consistently sets him upon a course - his skull, oh - his head. His mind, any sort of reminder of what the Vicar once was, where had it gone? Perhaps it was a delusion, set upon him in a final cope, that there was still something to be done. Or .. Even more likely, simply another part of this curse that Kos had set upon him.

✛ he remembers the rampage he went through, how fiercely he tried to retrieve his skull back from whatever clutches of the nightmare it was in. Scouring rocks and much alike with the mantle that came his veins, melting ultimately as he scavenged the caricature of Yharnam that he was trapped within. Until, eventually, it proved in vain. It lead to a dead end, after dead end. It was hidden, obscured from sight. Maybe if he had some more insight -- no, no. Maybe if he just had kept some score of morals with him. Possibilities cross his heavy head, though unable to think of much else than longing and the despair that he caused for himself. Whatever the beast was thinking, it ended there.

✛ Laurence hadn’t been able to dream since he died. No vivid dreams he could inexplicably remember in impressive detail. No waking up to find himself stuck to his bed, his arms frozen in paralysis, for that was just his everyday. Though, for a reason he couldn’t wrap his head around, he could feel his eyes flutter shut. Had the curse been lifted - or would he finally be freed from his divine punishment, burnt by his own flames?

✛ Leaving naught a corpse behind, beyond just another head for another to find and treasure. Would they remember who he was? Would he ever be able to recognize himself in a portrait, or had they all been diminished? He succumbed with ease, though he couldn’t help but wonder. His thoughts all but races as he reached some sort of peace, his nerves shutting down as he could feel himself slip away from his being. As though being drifted like wood across a river, he can hear the water, too now.

✛ A bottomless curse, a bottomless sea, accepting all that there is and can be.

✛ He felt water sooth his flames as he could feel air slip from his lungs. Or was that just him going unconscious? Who was to say. But.. Finally, he was disappearing. All was alright, or so he hoped. He felt .. Significantly smaller, at least. Not as a hulking wendigo that had become his very being decades upon decades ago. In fact, he..

.. Was he actually in water? He always took it as metaphorically. After all, Great Ones come from the Cosmos, not the sea. Though, the Stars and the Sea weren’t too different from each-other - both vast, home to evolution that no man could ever predict. Whatever it was, he was rocked to sleep on whatever afterlife he was arriving upon. Or whatever was beyond death, he means. 

✛ And thus, he fell asleep. Somewhere on the River Seine, Paris. Floating.

[udc793]

Antlered Flutter Fly. Toxonevra superba is a species of flutter fly in the family Pallopteridae. Pallopteridae is a family of flies. The various species are collectively called flutter-wing flies, trembling-wing, or waving-wing flies, because of the striking vibration of the wings in many species. Over 70 species in about 15 genera are found in the temperate regions of the Northern and Southern Hemispheres. (at Arlington, Virginia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CeU1MUUME_xk9WdgDwIvLCeUEMNxMqyfw1Qp3U0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ryderreturns]

2v1+1 Duel || Pezberrynn(son)

Ryder got momentarily distracted when Blaine appeared out of a flower. "San, why don't you just ask Blaine to be your SP already? Damn," he said, shaking his head before leveling an attack against Santana again with a water cannon.Who: Rachel Berry Corcoran, Santana Lopez and Ryder Lynn, ft. an illusion of Blaine Anderson

When: Tuesday afternoon, October 16

Where: Undique Stadium

Why: Santana continues to help Rachel and Ryder train together and work on strategy.

What: Trigger warnings for violence, fire

Santana wanted to get super stronger and the next step was trying to fight two people at once. Also, Rachel and Ryder had a lot of potential to be a strong team and she was more interested in Rachel keeping Ryder alive now that there was no tournament for her to beat them. Also it was a good trust building exercise. "Alright, guys, in position, let's see how good you two work as a team now that you talked a bit more about strategy."

Ryder wished he'd had more time to get into reading about his animal magic, but it had taken enough time for him just to find the right books. Still, he could fight and learn more about working together with Rachel. "Let's go," he said, nodding as he took out his Grimoire. His brow furrowed as he turned to King's page and found that it was empty already. King nudged him from behind. 'Surprise,' he said. Ryder chuckled and put away his book. "Cool trick. What's it mean?" 'You don't have to rely on taking out your book to call upon me. Our connection has grown stronger.' "Awesome," he grinned, turning back to the ladies as he stood across from Santana. "Is Daisy joining?"

Rachel was looking forward to dueling again. She had considered her strategy a little bit more and had figured out (probably) what would work. Plus she had Barbra now, who would definitely be helpful in the fight, especially against Santana. She had the lion walking beside her as she went to Undique and waved at both Santana and Ryder. “Yes, come on it’ll be fun if we all have our familiars,” she told Santana.

Santana really dislikes this animal party. Nah, she will only summon the cow if she needs it. "Let's make it look like it's a two vs two fight". She illusions a Blaine in his cute bowtie to fight at her side. Not because she missed him or anything. It was just because the illusion theme. Alright I might miss him a bit. God damn it Blaine answer the pm I sended you 14 minutes ago.

Illusion!Blaine appears with a bow. "Charmed to make your acquaintance," he smiles and pulls out a Really Cool Sword Santana Likes™ and whips his wrist around to draw a sparkly star in the air. The star dissipates into a flurry of sparkles.

Ryder was confused by the addition of illusion Blaine, until he thought, Blaine's cool. "Whatever you say," he shrugged. Focusing on pulling water to him, Ryder shaped it around his fists like Hulk Hands before striking out against Santana.

RYDER: 1d7+1 =4

Rachel was slightly taken aback. She didn’t like the idea of fighting Blaine (again). But she had to remember it was an illusion. She activated her necklace and started singing her trademark song to wrap a shield around her and Ryder and their respective familiars.

RACHEL: 1d7 + 2 = 7 SHIELD SANTANA: 1d7 + 4 = 5

Santana illusions a really spiky cactus where Ryder was going to punch and dodge it. Now, the shield was affecting both of them, but Rachel has to sing to maintain it, so it was attacking Rachel time. She makes an illusion of Barbra Streisand singing don't rain on my parade but at a different time than Rachel and really really badly.

SANTANA: 1d7 + 4/2 = 4.5

Illusion!Blaine smirks, his hazel eyes bright as they set upon Rachel. He flicks his wrist and his sword elongates, the epee growing thinner, like a whip. He attacks Rachel from afar, and although the voice is Blaine's, the words are all Santana's. "Rachel, I'm worried... you lost to me before during the NYADA Players, and you lost the Tops. You know I can sing better than you." To demonstrate, Illusion!Blaine sings Rachel's favorite song: Don't Rain On My Parade.

ILLUSION!BLAINE: 1d6 = 5

Ryder really wishes he would stop hearing the same song from three different people. It was definitely distracting him. He relied on King for the next attack, sending water to surround King's antlers before sending his familiar charging towards Santana.

RYDER: 1d5 + 3 = 7 SANTANA counter: 1d7 + 4 = 12

Rachel tried to ignore the words illusion!!Blaine was saying. It was just Santana trying to get in her head. She sent Barbra to the illusion of Blaine and had her roar fire at it, wanting to make it stop talking.

RACHEL: 1d7 + 3 = 8 ILLUSION!BLAINE counter: 1d6 = 3

Santana moves in the front to be next to Ryder, but more important, closer to Rachel. "What's up, Barbarita? Not answering? Trying to ignore problems hoping they will just disappear? C'mon, face the truth."

ILLUSION!BLAINE: 1d6 = 4

Illusion!Blaine picks up where Santana left off in the conversation, saying,  "I thought you know who is afraid of fire? I guess people's feelings don't matter when you want to win?" A breeze rushes around his clothes, making the bowtie flutter, and the illusions spins, winding up the sword as he launches it again towards Rachel's feet. He continues to sing, "Don't tell me not to fly, I've simply got to... If someone takes a spill, it's me and not you! Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade!" As his sword flies forward, a rainfall of feathers obscures the view around him.

RACHEL: 2d7kl1 +2  = (3+3)+2 = 5

Rachel felt the words Santana and Blaine were saying hit home, but she had to ignore it, because she knew she could easily let her focus slip if she did. She started singing a new song, putting Don’t Rain on My Parade out of her head.  Something has changed within me / Something is not the same / I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game This sent a soundwave towards the Blaine illusion, knocking it back.

Ryder forced himself to stay centered on Santana, rather than the Music Wars going on around him. "King," he called for his familiar, channeling water through his antlers again to send it shooting towards Santana.

RYDER: 2d5 + 3  = (3+2)+3 = 8

Rachel let out a triumphant whoop when the illusion of Blaine disapeared and focused her attack on Santana again. She sent Barbra at her again, roaring another breath of fire.

RACHEL: 1d7 + 3 = 7

SANTANA to counter RYDER: 2d7 + 4 = 13

Santana makes Daisy defend her against that big deer. "Emergency food! Fire and charge!" She says, and Daisy runs directly to King and to push him against Ryder. Obviously she was surrounded by illusory flames. She receives the attack of Rachel, but well. Now it was her turn. She makes the illusion of another Blaine at Rachel side, in front of Santana.

Illusion!Blaine springs up from a flower, dressed in a rose-gold suit of light armor. He has no helmet, but a golden circlet around his forehead, and pulls out a round buckler. "Charmed to make your acquaintance," he deeply bows before he gets into position. "Allow us to show you the beauty of our unity and teamwork." He gives Santana a look her way, a smile, and a nod.

Ryder got momentarily distracted when Blaine appeared out of a flower. "San, why don't you just ask Blaine to be your SP already? Damn," he said, shaking his head before leveling an attack against Santana again with a water cannon.

RYDER: 1d5 + 2= 7

Rachel groaned when she saw the Blaine illusion appear. Why did Santana keep doing this? She continued singing Defying Gravity and sent a sound bubble towards the Blaine illusion.

RACHEL 1d7+2 = 8

SANTANA: 1d7+4 =9

Illusion!BLAINE: 1d6= 4

Santana looks at her awesome illusion, and then at Ryder. "Oh! I wish! Do you think I like having Clarence? But I'm not going to exchange so Elliott gets that asshole.” She avoids the water canon and makes an illusion counterattack of the water attacking Ryder. "Barbarita c'mon! You always do the same!" She says. But now it's her turn. She looks at Ryder's eyes. "My dear friend, I have to show you what a real illusionist is like."

The Perfect Illusion Ryder is trapped in transports him to a savanna. He might feel the motion sickness of changing from a place to another. He is surrounded by all times of animals, throw the animal wikipedia over the window, even the ones that shouldn't be there. He can feel everything like it was real, he can smell everything like it was real. He can feel the temperature change. Everything. Santana and Blaine are on a podium behind the animals, but they are high so Ryder can see them. "This is the power of the Illusionist Posse, my dude! Be impress and enjoy!!"

Illusion!Blaine's eyes glow, flashing black for a second before they return hazel. He lifts his hands up as the perfect illusion overtakes him as well, and energizes Santana's world with his singing. He sings of Toto's Africa.

Ryder felt his stomach drop like an elevator reaching the right floor. One moment he was in Undique, and the next, he was in an illusion. "Fuck," he muttered. "I am impressed. These animals better talk!" He started walking through them, noticing they didn't shy away from him like animals did now. It was nice.

Rachel  frowned when she saw Ryder look around and talk about... animals? She figured Santana was casting some sort of illusion on Ryder. She activated her circle again and started singing  Don’t Rain On My Parade again, casting a sound barrier around Santana and increasing the sound so she could hear it loudly.

RACHEL: 1d7  +2= 3 SANTANA to counter: 1d3 +4 =6

SANTANA to Ryder: 1d7+4 =5

Santana stands trying to look normal. Ryder is trapped on an illusion, he would fall soon. She looks at Rachel, but keeps concentrating on her perfect illusion. Still she defends herself a little badly, but enough to defeat Rachel. She makes a counter sound illusion against Rachel, imitating her attack but louder.

In The perfect illusion the animal are all friendly and try to get close to Ryder. Some to close an push him to the ground, like a friendly too enthusiastic elephant. Santana takes the information she has about how Ryder talks to animals and tries to put it on her illusions. "Well well" The Santana in the illusions says. "What animal do you want to meet, Ryder? I have penguins!" She says, making a super cute tiny penguin appear behind Ryder. "Platypus, giant turtles, all types of dogs..." She makes them appear too, naturally, behind other bigger animal. "Just ask and you will receive! The best for my best friend!"

Illusion!Blaine gets close to Ryder as well, singing softly behind the animals.  He holds up a small dog and pets it, snuggling it close to himself. "Look at this puppy! Isn't he adorable?" He asks, smiling at Ryder. "Come on, let's not fight... just sit with me and the animals and let's sing together. Why fight?"

Illusion!BLAINE: 1d6 = 1

In his head, Ryder knows he should not be enjoying this and he's actually under attack. But it's a really, really cute attack. And he can't really get out of it anyways, so. He laughs when the elephant nudges into him, reaching up a hand to pat its trunk. Moving through them, his smile lights up seeing a super cute tiny penguin. "I'd like to see a platypus wearing a fedora like Perry!" He turns to see Blaine holding a puppy. "I really hate that I like that Toto song," he sighed, put he picked up the penguin and took a seat on the ground with Blaine, humming along.

Rachel brought her hands to her ears to block the illusion Santana sent back to her. She had to help Ryder snap out of whatever was going on. She sent the same sound field back at Santana, making the sound louder this time.

RACHEL: 1d7 + 2 = 5 SANTANA: 1d7 + 4 = 7 SANTANA to Ryder: 1d7 +4 = 7

Santana finishes this by making in her perfect illusion too many animals running to hug Ryder so he receives the damage. Then she ends the perfect illusion. "The end. Santana wins." She high fives her own illusion Blaine and crosses her arms. "That was incredible guys, I beat you on a 2 vs 1. I'll let you decide if to be ashamed of yourselves or super impressed by me, but, really, I would be a little ashamed. You were terrible. It wasn't fighting a team, I was fighting two people who have absolutely no communication with each other. And that's why you supers lost. You don't support each other, you don't protect each other. You fight like this was a one-on-one.”

Illusion!Blaine touches Ryder's cheek and lightly slaps it. "Your focus was off, sorry, Best Friend." He says as he gets up and out of the way of Santana's spell, letting the animals hug Ryder. He walks over to high five Santana. "Formidable illusion, Lupin." He lets Santana lecture them before he winks at Rachel and Ryder, saying, "But good try! I'd say to work on working synergistically. You two might have used moves together, but it's not a duet I'm seeing. Maybe two solos, however your beats and rhythms are off. Good luck in the future, and remember -- practice makes perfect." He bows at them, body glittering until it dissolves into shimmers.

Ryder blinks and he's back in the training room with Santana and Rachel. "That - went bad," he says, sighing as he stands up.

Rachel went to crouch beside Ryder to help him stand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I tried,” she said. “We did slightly better than the tournament, though. We’ll get there,��� she told him.

Santana laughs at Rachel's words. Like, a lot and a very high mocking laugh while pointing at her. Then she stopped and was really serious. "No. You could help him. You have shields, even if you seen to forget it. Also, it's a 1 vs 2, guys, you only had to attack me in a really annoying way until I finally lose. Don't 'we'll do it better' this. Actually think about your mistakes. I'm your friend or friendly rival, but other guys aren't going to have any mercy on you," she says, and prepares to leave. "See you later, but really, talk about this as a team."

Ryder takes Rachel's hand to stand up, leaning on her. "It's alright. It's on me too. I didn't talk with you," he says, trying to cut through Santana's laughter. "Bye, San," he waves her off. "She's right though. Your shields would've been a big help."

Rachel bit her lip at Santana’s words and looked down. She nodded at Ryder. “Right, I know, I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away?” She said softly. “I’ll do better next time we train,” she promised. “Now let’s get you to the healer’s,” she told Ryder, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him.