#big brain nari over here. (tiny brain)

[ebnaril]

being a dragon isn't easy, especially when you look like a human. (well ... more or less.) they continuously forget they look mostly normal -- sure, a tall albino with the almost-yellowish eyes isn't super normal looking, but in comparison to a 40-foot-long crystal dragon, it's convincing enough. besides, they've seen way freakier looking humans in new york. -- thank the gods for that. but this ... this individual seems like something entirely new. quartz-like eyes glitter in the night, studying @nightwatchr with draconic curiosity. "this may seem like a most peculiar question, & i do invite honesty, but ..." an entirely reptilian tilt of the head. "are you some sort of dragon?"

[vkncgzxf]

💜BIGHIT REPRESENTS💜

TINYTAN’S 1st BTS CONCERT

“We didn’t expect to cry this much but here we are.” – Every ARMY, every dad, every person with eyes

⸻

📍Location: Seoul Olympic Stadium

Sold out crowd, glowing lightsticks, hearts pounding… but what no one expects? A glittery, vibrating Tiny Tan Kid Takeover in Row 3.

⸻

🧒👧 THE FITS: Tiny Tan Style Icons Arrive

⸻

💡 THEME: “Mini-Me Meets Icon”

Each Tiny Tan rocks a custom outfit designed in secret by their moms, stylists, and the kids themselves. And it’s giving main character energy.

⸻

🐨 Namjoon’s Kids: Haru & Rian

👕 Outfit: Matching white jerseys with “Bangtan Tiny Tan” across the back. Names printed below:

• “#94 Haru”

• “#21 Rian”

📸 Details:

• Haru bedazzled hers with rhinestones shaped like books and stars.

• Rian added a tiny stitched planet Earth.

• Both have mini ARMY Bombs with their initials.

🪧 Sign: “WE STAN RM!! BIG BRAIN, BIG DAD ENERGY 💜”

⸻

🐹 Seokjin’s Kids: Seojin & Yuna

🧥 Outfit: Tiny satin purple bomber jackets

• “Tiny Tan” stitched on the back in glitter thread

• Names in Hangul on the cuffs

• Matching heart sunglasses

🎀 Yuna’s hair has BTS ribbons.

🥟 Seojin has RJ socks and is eating BTS-themed snacks. Icon.

🪧 Sign: “OUR DAD WORLDWIDE HANDSOME 🎤💋”

⸻

🐱 Yoongi’s Kids: Areum & Taeyang

🏀 Outfit: Custom purple basketball jerseys and shorts

• Areum: Lavender jersey with #39 and music notes

• Taeyang: Deep violet with #93 and a mini mic logo

• Matching armbands, glow-in-the-dark shoelaces

📸 Taeyang sneaks gummy bears mid-set.

🎧 Areum has a clipboard, rating each song 10/10. “Professional fan.”

🪧 Sign: “MIN YOONGI STAN SQUAD 💣💜”

⸻

🌞 Hoseok’s Kids: JJ & Ha-eun

🎧 Outfit: Chic black & neon streetwear

• BTS logo on left arm

• Names embroidered on right chest

• JJ has bright orange kicks

• Ha-eun rocks a rainbow streak in her ponytail

🎶 JJ is already dancing like it’s rehearsal, people nearby cheer him on.

💃 Ha-eun throws hearts at the camera and lands on a Weverse live.

🪧 Sign: “OUR DAD IS SUNSHINE IN HUMAN FORM ☀️🔥”

⸻

🐣 Jimin’s Kid: Sarang

🎀 Outfit: Fluffy pastel pink dress + tiny white leather jacket

• Name stitched in Hangul

• Decorated in her favorite stickers (hearts, bunnies, BTS logos)

• Heart-shaped ARMY Bomb cover

🪧 Sign: “PARK JIMIN = PRINCE 💖🐥”

📸 Every camera loves her. She bows after waving like she’s accepting a GRAMMY.

⸻

🐯 Taehyung’s Kids: Taekyung & Miri

🖤🤍 Outfit:

• Taekyung: Mini black suit with BTS cufflinks

• Miri: White tulle dress with “Tiny Tan” embroidered bracelet

• Elegant, stylish, totally unaware how cool they look

🎤 Taekyung holds the ARMY Bomb with both hands like a knight’s sword

👑 Miri has fairy wings tucked into her chair

🪧 Sign: “V IS FOR VERY TALENTED DAD 💜🎻”

⸻

🐰 Jungkook’s Kids: Nari & Hyunwoo

🦄 Outfit: Matching dark denim & leather jacket combos

• Painted on the back:

• Nari: “Unicorns + BTS 4EVER”

• Hyunwoo: “TIGER DAD 🐅”

• Tiny combat boots. Edgy. Loud. Precious.

🥇 Hyunwoo tries to get up on a chair to dance.

🌈 Nari brings out a glow-in-the-dark friendship bracelet for each kid.

🪧 Sign: “WE 💜 JK! THE GOLDEN DAD!”

⸻

💥 THE REVEAL MOMENT 💥

• During “Mikrokosmos”, ARMY in the surrounding rows begin to cheer and point toward the glowing, bouncing section of tiny, waving ARMY Bombs.

• V notices first. His eyes widen.

• Jimin follows. “Wait… WAIT. Is that Sarang?!”

📷 Live cam pans to Row 3. Cue:

• Yoongi freezing, blinking rapidly

• Namjoon’s mouth opening slowly like a proud goldfish

• Jin nearly drops his in-ear piece

• Hobi SHOUTING “JJ?!?!?!”

• Jungkook placing his hand on his heart, trying not to cry on stage

• Tae waving frantically, eyes shining

• Jimin laughing, blowing kisses toward Sarang

⸻

💬 BACKSTAGE AFTER:

• The kids run into their dads’ arms.

• BTS sits on the couch post-show, kids all over them, face glitter smudged, sweat mixed with tears and confetti.

Jin: “I forgot my lyrics in verse two because Seojin smiled at me.”

Yoongi: “They really came dressed like they were on the Tiny Tan World Tour.”

Namjoon: “Haru’s sign had MLA formatting.”

Jimin: “Sarang made me cry with a sign that said I’m her favorite singer ever.”

Hobi: “I’m making JJ dance with me next show. He’s better than me now.”

Tae: “Miri brought a tea set to the concert. Royal behavior.”

Jungkook: “Nari winked at the camera like it was hers. I have lost all control.”

⸻

🎉 FUN MOMENTS:

• JJ breakdancing on the side aisle (again).

• Taeyang and Hyunwoo arm-wrestling with glow sticks.

• Sarang handing out glittery BTS stickers to nearby fans.

• Miri collecting confetti in her dress skirt “for memory keeping.”

• Nari holding her ARMY Bomb like it’s a sacred artifact.

• Taekyung asking if he can sing next time.

• Haru rating the setlist “11/10, but dad was a little off beat in verse three.”

• Areum giving a 2-minute post-show review like a music critic.

⸻

💜 ARMY REACTIONS (OF COURSE THEY WENT FERAL):

🐦 Twitter (X):

@GlitterOnMyBias

“THE TINY TANS IN FULL BTS FITS AT THE CONCERT?? JUNGKOOK’S KIDS HAD LEATHER JACKETS I CAN’T FUNCTION.”

@MINYOONGISTODDLERSQUAD

“Areum looked into the camera and winked. That’s Yoongi’s daughter. That’s his heir.”

⸻

🎞️ TikTok:

🎵 Audio: “For Youth” (chorus)

🎬 Video montage of the kids cheering, dads reacting, the live cam zoom-in, post-concert hugs

📝 Caption: “They watched their heroes… their dads 💜😭 #TinyTanConcert #BTSFamilyEra”

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 101 (Mirror’s Edge)

Summary:  Caitlyn is a thief looking for the next big score. Used to taking wristwatches and wallets from rich folk, she's aiming to take down bigger game as she discovers the hidden magical world within her hometown. Her first mark is an unassuming shopkeeper and his collect of ancient relics. All set with a plan, Caitlyn makes her move. Though plans rarely go off without a hitch.

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are all well and staying safe. So the next chapter of my little side project is here! Honestly wasn't planning on getting back to this so soon but I was having fun worldbuilding and character creating and here we are. You can blame my friend @hains-mae for enabling me.

Right so the next thing I write will probably be the part two to this then the next chapter of the Underground. Umm that's really it for me so have a great week, be safe, wear your mask, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Please feel free to reblog, share, leave kudos or leave comments with things you liked or feedback if you read it on a03. I promised I'd try to promote myself more and it feels weird haha.

E is out, have a great one everyone! and here’s the link to the doobly do 

---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76014323

There was an arrogance that seemed deeply etched into every aspect of the magical world. She stood among valuable, ancient relics from throughout human history: Vases from Greece lined the shelf above her. A row of Roman gladius blades in various states of decay with only a flimsy glass case between them and Caitlyn’s pocket. Tarnished Victorian era slivered lockets left about like loose change.

Millions dollars worth of the past and she, a stranger, was left unattended with it all.

Technically she wasn’t supposed to be in here with the locked door and close sign but the fact in the 5 minutes it took her to pick the lock and scout the first floor without a single soul attempting to stop her really was a testimony to the haughtiness of the ‘shopkeeper’.

It had been only few months since she saw past the false reality that was superimposed onto hers and she was still readjusting: Magic was real. Elves, dwarves, little halfing folk? Real. People shooting bolts of lightning and flames while riding storm clouds? Real. The guy who kept awkwardly hitting on her every time she tried to get a hotdog from the cart at the corner? Just a regular creep BUT could’ve been magical.

Even their currency was a show of their excessive wealth: Sliver, gold, platinum coins Actual platinum traded away like it was nothing! People starving and helpless on the streets and these bastards just walked with some of the rarest metal on the planet in their pockets like chump change.

Anger bubbled within her stomach along with self righteousness and a bit of her breakfast but she took a deep calming breath, closing her bluish gray eyes. ‘Calm down Cait’ she scolded herself ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve seen excessive wealth squandered and wasted. You’re here for a job so do it and never come back.’

She glanced around the waiting room she found herself in. It was off to the side of the shopping front andthere were very few things of interest in the tiny room: Some old, tattered chairs that had seen better days. A very, very tacky abstract painting hung over a bricked up fireplace. There was a scattering of magazines older than her with loose stables and free roaming pages everywhere.

A place of show and very little use.

“Hello my angel.”

Caitlyn seized up. She had been so caught up in her rage she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone coming down the stairs. Three stories with a handful of people about and nary a sound could heard. Must be some sort of magic.

She shook herself out of her stupor, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. She forced her lips to curve into the cutest, lost smile she could muster. She opened her purple jacket a bit further so the guy could get a clearer view of her tight white tank top and running shorts.

“Helpless. Remember you’re helpless.” She whispered to herself before whirling about, her long black hair with dyed purple coloring flowed behind her gracefully as if she was an actress in those stupid hair product commercials.

“Oh!” she spoke with mock surprise, scrunching her face cutely as possible “I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m lost and the door was open and sorry!”

She leaned forward, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck as she gave whoever it was a better view of her outfit.

Hook, line and sinker.

“No problem sweetie. No need to lie to me.”

Hook, line and sunk apparently.

She blinked, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. She glanced up to find a strangely dressed man with the goofiest grin.

He was cute in a ‘I dress as an obscure, indie character for cosplay’kind of way: His messy, unkempt black hair sat under a black fedora. He wore a long black trench coat that had seen better days. At least he preferred more colors than black on black. His collared shirt was a nice baby blue with an equally nice light brown vest. Black dress pants because men’s fashion is incredibly boring and shiny loafers to completed the look. Whatever the look was.

She expected him to be taking a good look at her attire.

What she found was him staring at her.

His warm dark brown eyes were soft, gentle and he refused to break his gaze from her bluish grays even though there were more tempting sights on offer.

She was on the back foot. No wandering glances, no self pleasured smiles. Not even a creepy chuckle. Just a strangely dressed, inch shorter guy looking like he just found the love of his life in this moment.

“I…” she cleared her throat “Umm….did you hear me?”

He gave a quick nod “Yeah. You broke in and you were trying to cover your tracks.”

It wasn’t that he guessed correctly what was she up to that threw her off. It was how casually he said it. More discussing the weather than committing a felony.

She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to proceed from whatever this was. There were always some people who caught on about her intentions fairly quickly but no one had ever been so….indifferent about it.

“I don’t work here.” the man offered, slowly closing the distance between them but leaving the doorframe wide open “I really don’t care that you’re here to rob the place.”

This has to be a trap. This had to be. No one was ever this….laidback. Were the other goons on the side waiting to jump her when she bolted? Was she on camera and he was letting her go knowing full well he had all the evidence he needed to track her down?

Or maybe he really didn’t care. He seemed more interested in talking than stopping her and there was this strange presence about him. A calm she’d never felt before even when her parents were alive. It was odd and foreign to her but she felt safe. Protected.

She shook her head, slowly inching closer to the doorway. The man made no attempt stop her. He just stood there, smiling, hands in his pocket.

The rational part of her brain said to run. This whole thing was botched and it was better to cut her losses than find out first hand what magical creatures could do to her. The less rational side of her head told her to wait, to talk this guy. Lying was obviously pointless but she had a feeling he would answer any questions she’d had and she had plenty.

“So…” she rose a suspicious eyebrow “Not gonna stop me?”

He shook his head “I wish you’d stay but I understand if you don’t want to be found in Andor’s shop. He’s one of those new elves. Less honor more power.”

She blinked. He said elves right? Just threw it out there like it was an everyday matter of fact and not a deeply held secret of her hometown.

“Elves aren’t real.’ Caitlyn said matter of fact.

“We both know better than that.” The man gave a bright smile.

“What do you want?”

The words spilled out of her mouth despite her best attempts but this guy was throwing her off so badly she forgot how to function.

“Talk to you of course.”

The worst kind of people were the sincere ones. They were sappy and gooey. They just so happy it was sickening. They had to be up to something. They had to some scheme or scam or something they were waiting to drop on you. No one was that happy, that purely honest. They were the liars who were so good they convinced themselves they were good people. No one was good and everyone had a dark corner in their soul they hid from the world.

Caitlyn knew she had plenty in whatever was left of her ratty soul.

“And if we talk? Will you let me go?”

The man nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caitlyn licked her lips anxiously “Promise?”

Promise? What was she 12? No one kept their promises. Not even her.

He placed his hand over his heart “Cross my heart.”

“Let’s talk,”

He jerked his head towards the door “Outside. Don’t want you to ruin your heist.”

-----

Today was not going how she was expecting. She was thought she was going to break into an elf ran front, scout the area and come back in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been expecting to have coffee and bread with a random stranger on the street.

Well she had coffee, mystery man opted for hot chocolate.

They stood in a strangely comfortable silence a block from Andor’s. The man offered to pay for whatever she wanted and she took him up on it. Couple of baked goods, a sandwich for lunch, some water and of course her cup of wake up juice. If he was mad at her for her splurging at his expense, he hid it well. He just took his coco and some fancy elvish bread. Looked good but Caitlyn wasn’t up for trying other beings food. She didn’t know how it would sit with her stomach.

The elf who ran the cart, a few months ago human to her, waved goodbye to the pair as he counted the human cash the man gave him.

The trench coat cosplay stood patiently, sipping his drink and waited for her to break the silence.

She refused to break the silence first. Not wanting to sound too eager. Eagerness was a weakness and this guy was already throwing her off her rhythm.

“I’m Finnrick by the way.”

She turned to him, unsure if he was messing with her or not.

He gave her the same goofy smile “Finnrick Drift, private investigator.”

“Ah huh.” She nodded slowly “So you’re a magical P.I.? Like elves cheating on their wives, dwarves dodging their taxes P.I.?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders “Ironically elves like dodging on their taxes more than dwarves.”

“Right.”

“You’re new to the whole other side of Newton Haven huh?”

She glanced at her coffee “Lived here my whole life. Really makes me wonder if I lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all mad here Alice.”

Why was she talking to him? Why was she being honest? This was weirder and getting weirder every passing second.

Finnrick changed subject “So, robbing Andor? Any particular loot you are after?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes “Trying to fish something out of me Finny?”

“Guilty as charged” He beamed with pure happiness “Don’t want you wasting your time on shiny trinkets he cares nothing about.”

Caitlyn remained silent. She wasn’t used to such transparency. Normally this would be the point where the guy would lie or pretend to not have heard or awkwardly switch the subject but Finnrick answered openly and honestly. So far.

“So” Caitlyn straightened up, pulling her jacket wide open “What do you think? Great outfit right?”

Finnrick turned to her with a grin, his cheeks turning a pinkish hue as his eyes locked onto hers “Your body is absolutely lovely but your eyes even more so.”

Caitlyn could feel the flush coming. She coughed loudly, focusing on her drink as she willed the embarrassment away.

Finnrick chuckled lightly but returned to his drink. The silence returned, still comfortable as before.

This is was bad whatever this was. She needed to regain some level of control and stop acting like a teenage girl on her first garbage fire of a date.

“So” she cleared her throat “Mister P.I. what would you recommend taking if not all those millions of dollars of historical items he leaves about?”

Finnrick crushed the foam cup effortlessly as he gestured to the third floor of the shop “His office has a pretty simple safe. He keeps loads of paperwork. His various contracts, accounts, treasure hoards”

Caitlyn scoffed in disbelief even though her eyes shone with excitement “Treasure hoards? Elves? I thought dragons were the hoarders. Weren’t elves supposed to be above all that lovely corruption?”

“No one is above corruption.’ Finnrick answered “Elves are just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned back with a cocky swagger “And why, pray tell, would I care about boring paperwork?”

“Because it really hurt him in the pride.”

Damn Finnrick was good. Not only she was eager to learn more, she could already feel the smug satisfaction of bringing a powerful prick down a peg fill her cause.

Finnrick seemed to notice this because he went on “Andor is a young elf. 100 years give or take.”

“A hundred years is young?”

“When you live a thousand years every other race is a child to you. Andor’s old man is a swell guy. He’s one of those good elves you see in Tolkien.”

“Tolkien?” Caitlyn furrowed her brow “He wrote the books that those Lord of the Rings films are based on right?”

“Yeah actually.”

“Oh and the Hob…”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finnrick quickly added “But see the problem is Andor’s old man doesn’t know his son has become the small time crime lord. Thinks he’s running an antique business selling off old junk that was gathering dust in the family’s attic.”

Something clicked into place for Caitlyn “Wait. Junk from the attic? You mean all those relics on the shop floor?! THAT’S OLD JUNK!?”

Finnrick gave a casual shrug “Elves are weird. Andor don’t know shit about selling, all his money comes from his illegal business practices. That’s how he keeps the shop afloat.”

“I see” Caitlyn spoke, her bluish grays sparkling with mischievous intent “If those records disappeared, his shop sinks and he has to run back home to daddy.”

“And out of the city” Finnrick finished with a smile “And those records are pretty valuable to loads of people. Easier to fence and less messy to explain than a long lost Greek vase showing up in someone’s private collection. You’d get good prices for those hoard locations alone. Better than trying to carry tons of stolen and lost treasure back to your house.”

Caitlyn eyed Finnrick carefully “And you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Trying to do your ‘civic’ duty to our fair city?”

“Among other things” Finnrick admitted “But mostly for the greater good.”

“Pfft, greater good? Yeah sure buddy. Like you know what’s the greater good.”

“Will you do it?”

Caitlyn paused, allowing all this information sink in. It was much better than she had planned and while she wasn’t sure of Finnrick’s angle, he seemed honest enough. Of course everyone seems honest enough the first time you meet them.

“Let’s say I do” she spoke, placing her hands on her hips to play the part “What’s in it for you?”

“A favor” He replied simply.

She rose a curious eyebrow “A favor? It’s not date with me, is it?”

“No, I plan to earn that one myself.” Finnrick answered cheerfully.

Caitlyn coughed “Fine, good. Not a date. Least you’re not a creep. But a favor is pretty vague.”

“It’ll be simple I promise.”

Caitlyn narrowed her gaze suspiciously “You promise?”

Finnrick put his hand over his heart again “Cross my heart.”

Caitlyn took a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

Caitlyn offered her hand towards the trench coat cosplayer “You got yourself a deal.”

He gently took her hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. She was surprised when, as he pulled back, she felt a strange metallic item left behind.

She looked at the crystal butterfly hair clip he placed in her hand: It was a beautiful with sliver hues and multi-colored shards of glass across its wings.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

Caitlyn felt uneasy with the ornament in her palm: It felt cold and distant like it was feeling her out and wasn’t liking what it found.

“It’s attuning to you.” Finnrick explained “It’s syncing up to your whole aura.”

“Aura?” Caitlyn shot him a glare of disbelief “This isn’t one of those new age hippie things is it?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s a magical item. Yours specifically. Everything alive has a deep and very convoluted to explain connection to this plane. The hairclip is trying to match yours so you and only you can use it.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Because it doesn’t know you yet. It will.”

Caitlyn felt unease about whatever this was. Part of her wanted to toss it as far as she could. The worst part was she felt the item probing at her, changing temperatures as if trying find a comfortable setting for both of them. Burning one moment and too cold the next. This was magic and it made her felt like she knew nothing.

But part of her felt it slowly and subtly trying to match her, focusing on her and on her place in the universe. It felt more natural each passing moment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious what mister detective over here was letting her borrow.

Caitlyn blew a strand of hair out of her face “How long does this usually take?”

“An hour.” Finnrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone “Oh shoot I have a meeting to get to.”

He turned to leave and suddenly Caitlyn felt alone. Awkward just standing in the street without someone to talk to.

“Wait!” She reached for him but quickly pulled back when he faced her “….any advice?”

Finnrick scratched his chin for a moment “Red tiles. Avoid them or they’ll blast you off the roof.”

“G-gotcha.” Caitlyn didn’t want to know what blast off the roof was code for “A-and the hairclip? What’s it do?”

Finnrick gave a cheeky grin and Caitlyn could feel her face flush “I guess you’ll have to find out angel. Bye for now. May we meet again soon.”

And like that, he was off. Strolling down the straight with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.

Caitlyn glanced at the ornate hairclip in her hand.

Turns out there was a lot more to this magical world than she thought.

[nikibogwater]

The City Never Sleeps--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction

“Moving to New York City is no easy task, and Douxie's been burning the candle at both ends for the past month in order to make ends meet. Fortunately, he has a family waiting for him every night when he comes home.”

Special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author for beta reading and providing me with the title!

So yes, this is my coping mechanism after the emotional trauma of Wizards. A little Found Family fluff to ease my screaming soul. Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830517

Or under the cut:

Why the hell was living in New York City so expensive?

Douxie had started this latest venture with at least some optimism. Protect the tiny sorceress and keep an eye out for any suspicious magical activity that could point to the return of the Arcane Order, all while remaining as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn’t that different from what he’d been doing for the last nine-hundred years. 

Except for the damn cost of living. 

Arcadia Oaks hadn’t exactly been low-rent either, but at least he’d been able to manage by juggling two part-time jobs and occasionally passing himself off as a streetside fortune teller (humiliating as that was) whenever finances got particularly tight. He’d had plenty of time to do his nightly patrols of the streets, chase down any rogue magical creatures, set new stasis traps, and be home in time to microwave dinner and pass out on his sofa-bed for seven hours before the routine began again the next morning. But New York City was a different monster. 

He’d chosen this place for a few very good reasons. First, it was on the other side of the continent from Arcadia. Provided he’d covered their tracks right, the Arcane Order would have to scour any number of miles of the country before they could even begin to narrow down his position here. Second, the presence of magic in New York City was borderline undetectable. The area was so choked with noise, pollution, traffic, and people that picking out a magical signature from the chaos would be practically impossible. Third, (and perhaps this was the weakest reason, if he was being honest with himself) he had never been there before. Douxie had done some traveling in his centuries-long life, but somehow New York City had never ended up on his itinerary. If he was going to be immortal, he wanted to make the most of it and see the big sights. Up until now, he’d been stuck in Arcadia, trying to keep an eye on the magical stirrings there (and fuzzbuckets, there were a lot of them). Once he was free to go where he pleased, of course he was going to pick somewhere he genuinely wanted to be. 

At least two of those reasons had been good ones, but that didn’t change the fact that paying for a studio apartment in New York City and feeding himself, Archie, and occasionally Nari (she only ate on days when she could not simply absorb energy from the sun) with no high-demand career skills to speak of was a herculean task. He’d had to take on three minimum-wage jobs just to make ends meet, and sleep? Well, he counted himself lucky if he got four hours in a single night. 

Which landed him here, stumbling up to the door of their ramshackle apartment, fiddling with an ordinary keyring in order to keep up appearances should anybody walk by while he undid the twelve magical seals he had placed when he left this morning. He let himself in with a groan, slammed the door behind him, and somehow dredged up enough energy to replace the seals before he slid to the floor, utterly spent. What time was it? He’d gotten off work at 1:30, right? Or was he mixing up tonight with last night? Wait, was today Thursday or Friday? Fuzzbuckets, he could barely string two thoughts together in his head. He groaned again and pressed his fists against his bloodshot eyes. It was pitch black inside the apartment, and the only sound came from the small heating unit in the corner. 

But he wasn’t alone. He felt a familiar form brush against his folded legs, and heard Archie’s welcoming purr close to him. Douxie sighed and blindly reached out, groping for a moment before his Familiar pressed his furry head against his waiting fingers. 

“Did anything happen t’day?” Douxie slurred quietly. At this point, Archie no longer needed him to specify “anything magic related that could potentially be dangerous.” 

“Nothing. All clear,” the cat told him, stepping into his lap. “Though I can’t say the same for you. I haven’t seen such a breakout since the fifteenth century.” 

“What?” Douxie raised a hand to his face and felt his cheek, which was peppered with tiny red bumps. “Fuzzbuckets,” he moaned, letting his hand fall. “Think it’s the stress. I don’t remember the last time I slept through the night.” There were a few minutes of silence as Douxie stroked his friend’s fur, knowing he should move to his mattress in the corner, but too exhausted to care if he just passed out here. 

“Douxie?” 

His eyes slid open as he heard a small voice at his side (when had his eyes closed?) and saw Nari crouched beside him. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, which was comically large on her tiny frame, and a part of him suddenly wished he could afford to buy her nicer clothes. He was her guardian now, he should at least be able to provide her with that. Then again, she had spent most of her considerably long life wearing enchanted armor from the Eternal Forest, so maybe she didn’t care about not having brand-name PJs. Right now, her eyes were sweeping over his face critically, her brow pinching with worry. Oh right, she was probably waiting for him to say something. 

“H’llo,” he mumbled, his eyes closing again. 

“Your aura is so weak,” Nari whispered, her hand coming to rest on his chest above his heart, where she could feel his magic give a pitiful, fluttering pulse beneath her fingers. “You are pushing yourself too far.” There was an element of reproach in her soft voice.

“Got no choice,” Douxie replied. “Have to keep you safe.” He heard her take in a sharp breath as though he had struck her. His lids flew open and he saw her fiddling with her hands and looking ashamed. “I....I didn’t mean...” He forced himself to sit up, pausing for a moment when his vision swam and his brain flopped around his skull like a dying Nyarlagroth. “Nari, this isn’t your fault. I just....It’s hard to make ends meet, that’s all.”

“You came here because of me,” she argued quietly, still refusing to look at him. “Because you thought I would be safe here.”

“I....Yeah. But it’s not your fault the rent’s so high. ‘M fine, I just need to sleep.” He shooed Archie off his lap and somehow managed to get to his feet, though the world spun around him and his knees wobbled like jello. Nari reached out to help him, but he ignored her offer (it wasn’t like she could provide much support, seeing as she only came up to his waist), and stumbled over to the mattress on the floor in the corner, falling onto it with a rough sigh. 

“Your shoes are still on,” Archie informed him, coming to sit by his head. Douxie hummed noncommittally and did nothing. A moment later, he felt Nari untangling the laces of his hightops and sliding them off of his feet. Archie curled up in the crook of his shoulder, his purring filling the wizard’s ears and silencing his disjointed thoughts. Nari draped a blanket over him, pausing for a moment to rest her small hand on top of his uncombed hair. He felt her thumb rub a few circles against his scalp before she pulled away and stood up to return to her own bed on the other side of the room. Douxie was asleep before she’d even crossed the floor. 

*****

Douxie found his eyes opening twenty minutes before his phone alarm was set to go off. He felt oddly rejuvenated for someone who had worked himself to the bone yesterday and only fallen into bed at quarter past two. He double checked the time on his phone, wondering if he’d somehow slept through his alarm. 6:13 am. He rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Archie, who was sprawled out next to him, paws twitching as he dreamed. He glanced over at Nari, who was barely visible within a tightly-wound cocoon of blankets, her antlers the only easily distinguishable part of her. He could sense her aura, but it was dim, and scarcely pulsing, which meant she was quite sound asleep. Satisfied with the knowledge that his family was comfortable and at peace for the moment, he slipped out onto the tiny balcony, shivering as the cold embraced him. He left the door ajar a few inches in case Archie woke up and decided to join him, and zipped up his rumpled hoodie, before casting a glance around him.

The sky was a silvery grey, and he knew that the sun was peeking over the horizon at his back. The balcony faced west, and had a less-than-stunning view of a dank alleyway. It was barely wide enough for three people, and nearly half of it was occupied by Nari’s rapidly growing collection of houseplants and herbs. Douxie sat on the floor, crossing his legs beneath him, and leaned back against the brick wall of the apartment building. He gazed up at the slowly lightening sky, mind curiously blank, though not for want of energy. There was something about the stillness of the early morning that put him in a state of silence. Almost as though he were listening for something. 

Or someone. 

His heart twisted sharply in his chest, and for once, he let himself acknowledge it. He’d spent many early mornings like this in Camelot, perched on a battlement, watching the sunrise, waiting for the sound of his master calling him to his chores. Back then, he had dreaded hearing Merlin’s voice, knowing that it would be the end of the brief momentary peace he had carved for himself from the stillness of the morning. But now....Now he’d give anything to hear his master calling his name again. 

Something pressed up against his knee, and he looked down to find Archie’s bespectacled gaze meeting his own. Without a word, Douxie opened his arms and let his Familiar settle into place on his lap. Douxie wrapped him up in his arms, clinging to his presence, suddenly acutely aware of how much his heart was aching, and Archie purred in understanding. The cat was warm against his chest, a physical reminder that although he had lost a great deal these many years, he wasn’t alone.

The door creaked, and Douxie looked up to find a very sleepy-looking Nari stepping out to join them. 

“You’ll catch a cold out here,” Douxie scolded wearily, taking note of her bare arms and legs. She responded with a disinterested hum and rubbed one of her eyes blearily. Douxie sighed and held out an arm to her. She flopped down next to him and curled up against his side, one hand coming to rest above his heart, feeling his magic swirling and pulsing within. 

“Your aura was twisting. You were sad,” she mumbled as he tucked her closer with his arm. 

“...Maybe a little,” Douxie admitted. “I didn’t think you could feel that in your sleep.” 

“Never try to hide anything from an ancient sorceress,” Archie advised from his place on Douxie’s lap. “Especially one who likes you.” Douxie breathed a quiet chuckle and gave his Familiar a scratch behind the ears. There was a moment of companionable silence between the three of them. 

“...You enchanted my sleep, didn’t you?” Douxie said suddenly, looking down at Nari. She shifted, almost guiltily, and nodded. 

“She does that several times a week, actually,” Archie put in. Nari opened her eyes long enough to send him the most resentful glare she could muster. 

“Tattletale,” she muttered. The cat merely shrugged. 

“...Thank you,” Douxie murmured. “I don’t think I could’ve survived this past month without either of you.” 

“We’re going to be okay, Douxie,” Nari said through a yawn. “I believe in you. You’ll find a better job soon, and the Order will never find us.”

“You think?” Douxie asked lightly. The wood nymph nodded sleepily against his chest. “Well, I suppose there’s no arguing with you, is there?” He squeezed her shoulder fondly. 

“You argue with me all the time,” Archie pointed out, turning a few circles and settling more comfortably on Douxie’s crossed legs. “If I were any less gracious, I might accuse you of playing favorites.” 

“Oh, I do play favorites, Archie. You’re my favorite person to argue with.” Archie huffed and flicked his tail, but Douxie knew he was smiling without having to look. 

The mage held his small family close, staring up at the sky that was turning more blue with every passing minute, no longer feeling the pervading chill. He couldn’t say what the future would bring. He couldn’t promise that everything would work out. But he did know, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, that he would fight to save the world a hundred times over, work himself until he was nothing but skin and bone,  if it meant he could have more moments like this. 

[fanfic-scribbles]

Fir

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: A trip to a tree lot results in a much bigger relationship milestone. Also, Bucky and Steve are idiots. It works out pretty well for everyone involved.

Quick facts: Romance – [established] Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Fluff, the tiniest bit of angsting, sappy ending

Words: 1983

A/N: I was going to wait to post this until tomorrow because ‘Christmas season’ and all, but in case you need something else to read today here’s a little fluffy holiday something. For folks in the US, Happy Thanksgiving! For folks not in the US, Happy Thursday!

  ~

    Normally, you might find this funny. But they actually think they’re getting one over on you.

It’s almost offensive.

Sure, you may not have the most innocent blue eyes to ever blue, or the saddest pout on this side of the world, but you have a fucking brain.

“You “accidentally” bought a tree too big for my apartment?” you ask. They both nod rapidly. You stare at them. ‘Greatest tactical mind’ and ‘world’s greatest assassin’ your ass. “It has been five minutes since I lost track of you. How did you find the “perfect tree” and have time to pay for it before you found me? To, you know, ask my opinion on the tree that was supposed to go in my apartment?”

They are either good actors, or they feel a little bad. They are not and nor have they ever been anything resembling good actors. “Sorry,” Steve says and once more flashes you weaponized innocence. Eye lasers. They’re eye lasers. “I guess we just got excited. I mean, look at it!”

You roll your eyes. It is gorgeous, full and vibrant. It must have cost a fortune. “What’s done is done. It’s huge though– will it fit in your living room?”

“Of course,” they say in unison. With such certainty only an idiot could believe this wasn’t pre-planned.

“I can just tell,” Steve says quickly. “My eyesight is really good, and we have those high ceilings.”

“Uh huh.” You’re pretty sure the serum didn’t put yardsticks in Steve’s eyes, but Steve is the only expert in the matter, and you are 99.99999% sure that actual measuring tape was involved. You can only hope they remembered to factor in a tree topper. “So much for putting it in the backseat. By the way, you two are on your own when it comes to figuring out how to get it home.”

“We’ll tie it to the roof,” Steve says.

The car is certainly big enough to handle it. But you want to see how prepared they came. “Do they sell rope or bungee cords here?”

“I’m sure we have something,” Steve says with forced nonchalance as Bucky runs off to get the car.

Sure enough, when Bucky comes back, he and Steve are able to get right to work tying the tree to the roof. “Amazing,” you say as they finish. “How you just happened to have rope hanging around in your car.”

“Always be prepared,” Steve says.

How can you resist? You grin. “Kinky.”

Steve chokes on nothing and Bucky ducks his head. “Can’t take you anywhere,” he mumbles. You laugh, because it is entirely reasonable to have rope or cords in the car (and you hope they have the good sense to keep other emergency supplies in there too) but they’re so caught up in their tree deception that they don’t seem to remember that.

“Hey,” Steve says once you’re all belted in. “Since all your boxes of ornaments are already out, we should pick them up on the way.”

“That’s a good idea,” you say. “Since the tree is so big it had to go on the roof, we have all the space in the back now.”

“That works out really perfectly,” Steve says blithely, still pretty performatively cheerful as he drives off. Bucky is about to say something, with a similarly dumb smile on his face, when he looks at you and the smile loses some of its zeal. You don’t know if it’s the crossed arms or if your maxed-out bullshit meter is finally showing on your face, but Bucky quickly turns around in his seat and faces forward, stealing little glances at Steve.

You all stop by your place to grab the ornaments. All but one box, which you surreptitiously push under the coffee table with your foot. If Bucky or Steve take notice, they don’t mention it to you. The whole affair is very quiet, but you all make it to their (admittedly very nice and much more spacious) home, where they put the tree up in its stand with such ridiculous coordination you wonder if they practiced. Honestly it wouldn’t surprise you if they did (they are almost always very committed to their very dumb ideas), but they also make an incredible team, so it could be either-or.

Steve’s still in the kitchen when Bucky finishes adjusting the tree skirt and he admires it for a moment before he looks back at you. He grins and you smile. Genuinely. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” Bucky asks and flexes.

You consider. “A-minus,” you decide.

“A-minus?” Bucky pouts.

“It would have been better shirtless,” you say and poke him with your foot. He grabs your leg and starts kissing up it and you laugh and squirm, even though his lips only connect with your pants.

“Maybe we have enough energy to do more than just the lights tonight,” Steve says and sets down a tray filled with mugs of hot chocolate. He starts passing them out. “Bucky…me…and extra marshmallows for you.”

“Ooo.” You settle in with the mug in your comfy armchair while Steve takes the couch and Bucky stays on the floor. You blow on the steam. “Is this guilty hot chocolate?” You take a sip that burns a little, but it’s worth it. “Yum.”

“Why would it be guilty?” Steve asks like he has nary a clue and only a passing curiosity, and stirs his drink like he’s rehearsing for a commercial and can’t get a natural rhythm down. Bucky ducks his head lower like he’s incredibly into his drink, but his eyes flit up and move between the two of you.

“For picking a tree too big for me,” you say and wait to see how this is going to go.

“It was an accident,” Steve says, buckling down on stubbornness like only Steve Rogers can.

Well two can play at that game, and you’re pretty sure he’s going to lose. “Yes, well.” You sigh theatrically. “It’s lovely and good for you to have. I’ll have to stop by the lot tomorrow and get a tiny one for me.”

“What?” Steve asks and even Bucky lowers his cup and licks the line of chocolate from his upper lip.

“Why do you need another one?” Bucky asks.

“Because I don’t have one,” you say and lean back. “And I want a tree in my house.”

“But we have this beautiful tree here,” Steve says.

“I don’t live here,” you remind him. “Not all of the time.”

“But you could!”

Ah ha. However the admission doesn’t ease your annoyance– it just makes it burrow that much deeper. “I’m not going to intrude,” you say and sip.

Steve opens his mouth but a sharp hiss of his name from Bucky makes him stop and the two of them have a very intense eye discussion for several seconds– or rather, eye argument, from the sheer amount of peaks and valleys displayed by their eyebrows alone. You noisily sip your drink but it doesn’t even make them flinch, so you put the cup down. Hard. That makes them break and they look at you as you stand.

“I’m going to the bathroom; I’ll be right back,” you tell them and then leave.

When you get to the bathroom you sit on the toilet lid and rest your frowning face in your hands propped up on your knees. You’re in the bathroom that you helped decorate and that doesn’t help the problem. Because you do stay here often enough that it feels like home, but any tentative brush at the subject of combining households has been swept right off the table in the last few months– sometimes harshly. You try not to let it get to you, but it does sting. Still, you’re getting used to it. You’ll go back out there and you’ll all ignore the subject was ever broached. Like always.

But it’s Christmas, and despite their complicated feelings on moving in together, you love them and they love you. And you are going to have a perfectly lovely night decorating their tree, and you’re going to get a little one for yourself, and it’s going to be nice no matter what.

You come out of the bathroom and stop just before you enter the living room proper. The tree is halfway wrapped in lights, from the bottom up, and where they stop there is a circle made out of the cord to draw attention to a card propped loosely in the middle.

You look at Bucky and Steve, both sitting on the couch like they can’t imagine what kind fairy could have possibly done this. You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile. Most people would never believe you if you told them what morons those two can be. That must be why Sam and Natasha are your best friends.

You pluck the envelope off the tree and lift it up and down. It’s heavier than standard cardstock and not completely flat at the bottom. There’s something other than Hallmark in there.

“Why don’t you come over here and open it?” Bucky says and pats the open cushion between them. You plop down in the seat, and warmth surrounds you when they rest their heads on your shoulders. You open the envelope, pull out the card (very pretty, hand-drawn by Steve, going on your fridge for sure), and then you reach in to pull out the mysterious object.

It’s a key.

You stare at it, metal shining in the light and slightly cold against your skin. You run your finger up the teeth of it and inhale suddenly. “Wh– really?”

“We wanted to wait for Christmas, but it’s close enough, right?” Steve wraps his arms around your middle. “But yes: we want you to move in with us. It’s okay if you don’t want to, if you feel like it’s too soon–”

“It’s not and I want– I thought–” You breathe. “I thought you didn’t want to. You always change the subject–”

“We’ve been planning this for two months; we didn’t want to spring it early,” Bucky says and nuzzles you. “You know how shit Steve is at keeping a secret like that.” He leans over you to glare at Steve. “‘But you could,’” he mocks.

“Shut up.” Steve tightens his hold around you and pushes his face into your shoulder.

“Well,” you say, smiling as you close your fist around the key. Your key. “Steve does have a point. There’s no point in getting another tree when I have a perfectly good one at home.”

Steve sits up and they both lean over to look at you expectantly. “I love you both so much and of course I want to live with you,” you say. “But I want it on the record that you are the shittiest liars I have ever known in my life.”

Bucky huffs and Steve laughs. “Only because we can’t hide anything from you, sweetheart,” Bucky says and pulls you into his arms. Steve follows, because of course he does, and you lay there, content to ignore what a fucking pain it’s going to be to have to move. But you have at least another month before your lease is up and you have two of the strongest men you know to help (with at least three friends who are also strong who can be easily bribed with pizza) and at the end of it you are going to be home, with Bucky, and Steve, right in the one place you always feel you belong.

“…The key is nice and all but please tell me your security system code is easy to memorize.”

“You can make your own, only needs to be four numbers,” Bucky says and kisses your head.

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh thank goodness.”

“1234 is not an acceptable passcode.”

“Aw man.”

[tommyplum]

pbeebies: book 1 - lollypop syrup

this is a slant on tom hardy doing cbeebies, by way of peaky blinders; the book in question is available on project gutenberg. it’s alfie/tommy if you squint and read between alfie’s lines XD

Hullo, children and those who used to be children and have retained an appreciation for the artifacts of their youth, wicked or benighted or idyllic or fucking otherwise. This is Peaky Beebies, and I am Mister Solomons, and today we will be visiting with what might have been a favourite of mine, had I spent any of my own years of being tiny in reading fairy stories instead of avoiding having my fingers stomped on by other children in between them gobbling down their Lord.

The book is called “Little Jack Rabbit and Chippy Chipmunk”, written by some cunt, yeah, who couldn’t figure out the mechanics of a catchy title for his target audience. 

Just look at that manky blighter hustling down the street as though he’s got bloody business to attend to. What can he be so excited about with his scarf flying out behind him to make him seem more important in the little provincial heath from which he hails? Well, lean in, children, lean in, and I’ll tell you --

--it’s Lollypop Syrup.

Yes, that’s right, our mate here Little Jack Rabbit was careening cock-first through the Old Bramble Patch with nary a thought in his head about anything delightful, as he was burdened with brother rabbits of varying height and thick-headedness who only compounded on how dour Jack Rabbit, our mate, had become after his hopalong trip to France. And he was knocking his brains out over all this despair, yeah, when he happened upon a tree, right, and in this tree, screwed straight into the wood of it, was a tap. And from this tap, my little loves, there flowed the sweetest, most delectable white Lollypop Syrup that Jack Rabbit had ever tasted.

Now, Jack might have lost his zeal for life, but he was not a fool, children.

He knew a good thing when he saw one, and he stuck his little bunny head under that tap and he drank and drank as much as could hit his little red tongue till he was fair choking on the stuff. And still that wasn’t enough for him. Rabbits sometimes do get that way, children, I will tell you that fact of life for free and gratis; they get a taste for it and then they’ll hide away in their little burrows and drink and drink until they’ve forgotten all about that fateful hopalong trip to France. But one warren is very much like all the others, innit? And Jack Rabbit, he knew that, deep inside.

So he thought to himself, “My my my, this Lollypop Syrup is superb, top of the barrel, and I’d very much like to take some home to eat with fucking buckwheat cakes or the like, whatever it is we fucking rabbits eat at home! I’d better collect some in ... this ... jar.” And he took out his jar and he began to let the syrup pour into it, smacking his lips at the thought of all he’d get to enjoy back in his cramped warren when the sounds of hopalong became Too Loud.

But he’d forgotten something, hadn’t he, my doves? And that was the simple unassailable fact that Lollypop Trees, right, they did not grow wild. They needed to be cultivated. They needed to be raised, by hand, with care, with attention and protection and keen fucking foresight. And so it should have been no surprise at all when in the middle of his robbing himself a jar full of syrup, out came the Big Brown Bear, wanting to know, eh, who was stealing all his Lollypop Syrup?

A reasonable question, I should think.

But this Big Brown Bear wasn’t angry, like he would very well have had the right to be, all things being accounted for and including the thick-headedness of those brothers that Little Jack Rabbit had at home. No, no! He welcomed the rabbit, welcomed him into his big brown cave, and he said, “Look here, at all the Lollypops I’ve got stocked up barrel by barrel! Aren’t you oh so very impressed, Jack Rabbit?” And Jack Rabbit -- who you’ll recall, children, I’ve mentioned was not a foolish rabbit at all -- exclaimed with the first delight he’d felt since those dreadful hopalong days, “Oh my goodness, you are a very wise and very valuable Big Brown Bear to know!! And I would very much like to avail myself of your stores of Lollypops, and Lollypop Syrup, and any other little thing that you may have that will make the heath respect me more. Do you have buckwheat cakes?”

What a question to ask! Did he have buckwheat cakes? There was only one possible answer to that, children, and somewhere deep inside his scarfy little neck and rabbiting little head, Jack very well knew that answer. And the Big Brown Bear held out his big brown arms and said, “of course I do, little rabbit. Of course I have baked these buckwheat cakes that you’re so bloody fond of. Don’t you see? I have an enormous pile of them, right over there. And I make that pile bigger every single morning, Jack Rabbit.”

And then the Big Brown Bear said, “--and also every morning, I fucking drown those buckwheat cakes with my unbearably sweet Lollypop Syrup.”

Jack Rabbit licked his lips and smacked his lips and bit his lips -- because sometimes rabbits do that, little ones, they do that if they’ve heard something they like but they don’t want to say so out loud -- and so Big Brown Bear said, “if you stay the night in my cave, Jack Rabbit, I will give you so much syrup, and all the buckwheat cakes you can manage for breakfast.”

Well.

Well, what happened next, children, is something that your mummies and daddies will have to explain to you, when you’re older. But I can tell you this: the next morning, after all the syrup had been drunk and cakes eaten in that big, echoing, dark warm cave, Little Jack Rabbit stumbled back up the road of the Old Bramble Patch with a head clear of hopalong and all the buttons torn off his vest. 

And that, my little treacle tarts, was only the beginning.

[writersrealmbts]

Protect Them-Hybrid AU: Part 9

Description: Safe with Me Sequel! You work two days a week teaching kids the joys of learning and reading, your favorites being the triplets. When the triplet’s adopted older brother is the one that starts picking them up, you’re not sure what life just handed you but you’re pretty sure it’s just another little slice of heaven. Hoseok x Reader.

Warnings: I don’t even know, if you do, let me know and I’ll change the warnings.

Posted: 02/24/2019

Tags: Hybrid!au, hybrid!Hoseok, Safe With Me Sequel

Angst with fluffs: 2,496 words

A/N: Happy Part Nine! I’m weak and I’m posting early because I got responses to the quick census. I think you’ll be happy with the next part, which I will likely post on Wednesday! 

“It’s likely you had a complex-partial seizure,” The doctor said, smiling kindly. “I’ve looked at your file, and it’s possible given the damage caused to your brain in the accident. Your doctor even listed it here as something he was concerned about as a side effect. You’re lucky, you could have had a grand mal seizure. You’re normally on these medications, since the accident anyway?” He set a list in front of you. You read over it and nodded. A seizure. Of course. It made sense now. You had trained to help kids who had seizures as part of your first aid certification and now that the doctor said it all of the symptoms made sense. “This one is to suppress nerve pain, and is also used for people with epilepsy. It’s likely taking this prevented you from showing symptoms earlier. Or that you had similar seizures before and were unaware that they occurred. I’ve sent down these prescriptions for you, given the circumstances you’re in, and you should be able to pick them up on your way out at the pharmacy on the first floor.” “But she’s okay?” Hoseok asked. “I’d have to run more tests, but considering the seizure lasted under five minutes, I think she’s fine. We’ll get her back on her medication and hopefully that keeps them from happening again.” “Thank you,” You murmured. You were exhausted. “No problem. Get your prescriptions, get home, get some rest. Both of you. Kids, would you like stickers?” All three perked up, tails wagging excitedly, thanking him when they got their stickers. It was dark out when you pulled up to the summer house. Thankfully, your seizure had ended in the store, and you had insisted on checking out before going to the walk-in clinic (the closest thing the town had to a hospital). Hoseok had stopped and gotten pizzas for dinner because there was no way either of you were cooking. You had to direct Hoseok where to find the key in the treehouse from the ground, guessing more than anything, but he eventually found it and you all entered the house you used to come to every summer. It was nicer than you remembered, and looked like the interior had been remodeled in the past few years. “It’s nice,” Hoseok said, looking around. “Alright, first things first, get the kiddos set with some dinner. Y/n, you sit and eat too. I can handle bringing things in and making beds if you get them into pajamas.” “Deal.” You helped him put slices of pizza on plates for the kids and yourself, then sat with them at the table in the breakfast nook to eat while they ate. Minsu and Kaemon picked the pepperoni off, and Kae gave his to his brother. Nari ate like normal. Then after Minsu finished his piece of pizza, he ate the pepperoni. You got them into their pajamas with very little fuss, and managed to take a shower and change into your own pajamas, only needing Hoseok’s help to get the brace back on (while he ranted about how you could have hurt yourself). He then insisted on blow-drying your hair, at least partially. You then helped him tuck the kids in. They had all fallen asleep with Minsu in the end, an hour earlier than their actual bedtime. Then Hoseok carried you into one of the other bedrooms and tucked you in, seeing that your medicine was kicking in. But you would swear that you felt him kiss your forehead before he left. The first day at the summer house the kids were blissfully unaware of the trouble surrounding their trip to this magical place. They loved that they could play in the shallow waters, and Minsu had caught about five frogs by now, and all three of them adored the treehouse. Three days in the summer house had passed with relatively little to worry you or cause problems. Except Hoseok, but he was an eternal problem that you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to fix. He seemed hyper aware of you now, checking on you periodically, making sure you were okay, but even when you were perfectly fine and it showed—as you played with the kids happily—he seemed to have this look in his eyes that haunted you late at night. It was the fourth day at the summer house that you walked down to the corner market and got a paper, seeing the headlines. The lady who owned the market sent her twelve-year-old daughter to get Hoseok for you. “What happened? Did you have a seizure?” He asked the moment he entered the store, the truck parked outside the doors. You handed him the paper, a lump in your throat. “It’s over.” He frowned and read over the paper, confused about why you would be so upset, until he finished reading the title of the article. He inhaled sharply. “Your sister.” “Guess she really did change,” You choked out. He hugged you close, tight. “She was protecting you. She died to protect you.” “We should get back. The kids.” “Yeah,” He agreed simply, picking you up and carrying you to the car while you protested weakly. “Don’t deprive me of one of my few pleasures in life.” You snorted, but didn’t argue any further. You didn’t know how you felt, other than conflicted. On one hand, you could literally only count the nice things she’d done for you on that one hand. On the other, she was your sister. Your family. You powered your phone on, and texted Emma the address. An hour later, the triplets were screeching with joy, throwing themselves into their parents arms and being adoringly smothered by said parents. Four hours later and all of you were back at Emma and Jin’s, the kids running to Jimin, Jungkook, and three hybrid men you didn’t know, one of which had a very young toddler in his arms. Hoseok stuck beside you the whole time. It was in the evening that you and Emma were talking, Hoseok gone from your side. “She was working for the organization that was against us, the one that broke that vile thing out of jail. But she leaked all the information that they needed to take everyone down. She’s a hero. But that doesn’t mean that what she did to you in the past can be forgotten,” Emma said thoughtfully. “Some scars run deep.” You sighed shakily. “She was finally reaching out, honestly and good-naturedly. And now I won’t ever be able to find out if she really wanted to be in my life again. I won’t be able to replace the litany of terrible memories that she’s left in my mind with good ones. I think that’s honestly more upsetting to me. She finally changed, we might have finally had the chance to be and act like siblings and now the chance is gone. And for me, it seems like everyday I lose just a little bit more. I don’t know if I can take it.” “Oh, honey,” She sighed and held you a little tighter. “It’s going to be okay.” “It’s not,” You whispered, closing your eyes as the tears filled them. “What else is bugging you, hon? Hmm? Because I don’t think this is about your sister.” So you told her, everything from being afraid of living alone now that you apparently had seizures (even with the medicine), to how you felt like your heart had been ground into dust over Hoseok. How his smile made you feel like life was worth living, but knowing that he would never in his right mind give it to you made you feel like you were dying. You told her about your worry over finding a new job, a place to live, everything. All while crying your eyes out. She didn’t say much, small comforting things, mostly just letting you get it all out now that you were safe. She waited until your sobs were hiccups, and your tears had slowed. You were sort of limp in her arms, finding comfort in her. “You should talk to Hobi about it,” She finally said, gently brushing your hair from your face. “I know it’s scary, and I know it feels like too big of a risk right now, but if you don’t, you’re going to really hurt yourself in the long run. You can wait until you’ve recovered, but I think the sooner you do it the better it will be.” You nodded, then cracked a smile as she directed your hand to where one of her twins was kicking a tiny bit. “How are you doing?” “Well, normally twins come early, so I’m sort of worried, but the doctors were constantly checking on me at the sanctuary. If I don’t go into labor within the week, they’re going to do a c-section. I don’t think it’ll come to that though.” You sat up, smiling at her. “Why’s that? Did you have spicy food or something?” “Mmm, I could really go for some curry now…” She murmured, then shook her head. “No, but I should probably get Jin in a while and head to the hospital.” You looked at her. “You’re way too calm for someone who basically just said they’re in labor.” “I was in the hospital for two days with the triplets before they were born. You learn how long you can wait. Besides, they’re all cuddled up with Jin in this big pile of blankets and pillows and it’s adorable. Then Jungkook and Jimin joined them and it was even more adorable, so of course Hoseok joined them as well. Lots of good memories, and plenty of pictures.” She showed you one that she had taken. You grinned. She smiled at it as well, sighing. “Jungkook seemed so little when he first came, and grew so fast.” “The man that did those things to Hoseok…” “Tried to break into the Sanctuary. Thought he was there.” “And?” She shifted. “Jin put two bullets in his chest, and the police put a third in his head.” Her voice was surprisingly cold. “Good,” You said. She nodded slowly. “The files your sister released showed that Hobi was the first to survive him. Yoongi would have been killed too if he hadn’t been so strong. I’m not saying killing him was right, but I couldn’t sleep knowing he was out there somewhere. Hurting someone. Even if he had lived, he would have received the death penalty. He just got it a little sooner than he expected.” “Eomma?” Hoseok poked his head into the room, then froze, looking between you and Emma. You could see how he wanted to rush over and find out what was wrong, itching to try and comfort you because he couldn’t help it. He instinctively needed to protect you, that’s what he said. “Hey, Hobi. You okay?” She asked, her voice softer. He nodded tersely. “Everything okay here?” “Yeah, we’re just having some girl-talk. Can you go wake Jin, Hobi? Tell him we need to head to the hospital?” “Why?!” His tail fluffed out, eyes wide. She laughed softly. “Had to have these babies sometime, Hobi.” His shoulders relaxed dramatically. “Oh, right. Got it. I’ll go wake him up.” He handed you the box of tissues, then left. She lightly rubbed your back. “You okay?” “Yeah, I’ll be fine. You just focus on your babies,” You told her, leaning on her shoulder. “You try to relax. Don’t worry so much about you and Hobi. Everything will work out for the best.” You nodded, watching somewhat helplessly as she stood up and headed toward the hallway, slipping on her flats and her coat serenely as she waited for her husband. Jin came quickly with a bag, dressed again, and he kissed her. “You ready, baby?” “Yeah, honey. I’m ready. Hobi…” “I’m in charge, I know the drill. I’ll bring the kids in when you call.” He kissed her cheek, nuzzling it lightly. “Love you, Eomma.” “Love you too.” She looked over at you and smiled reassuringly. “Make sure she gets to bed at a decent time, yeah?” “I will.” He smiled at you. His hair was a bit messy from his nap and you just wanted to run your hands through it. Your heart ached as you watched how lovingly Jin looked at Emma as they left, the way he seemed to know what was enough attention and what was too much. You wanted something like that. You had something similar, but his heart wasn’t actually in it. Just his instinct. You wanted it because the other person loved you, really and truly loved you. And someone as amazing as Hoseok was way out of your league. “Hey, you still with me?” He asked, crouching in front of you. You nodded, giving him a fleeting smile. “Yeah, just…kind of jealous of her and Jin, you know?” He broke into a grin as he chuckle. “I do know. I mean, they have everything. Even if the past week has been absolutely crazy. They have the house, with the yard, and three angels sleeping upstairs with their adopted kids while they go to the hospital to give birth to two more angels. You know, they’re actually married? It’s so rare in the world of hybrids to actually get married, most just mate.” “But she’s human,” You pointed out, shrugging. “Marriage is something we sort of dream about. Some don’t see it as necessary and others believe it very necessary or right, or just plain romantic.” “What about you?” You dared to glance at his face for the very smallest moment. “I don’t know. When I was younger I dreamed about a wedding. My dad walking me down the isle, I’d have a sunflower and lily bouquet, and my family would be getting along. My mom would cry, and my sister would be my maid of honor. Instead, my father and sister are dead, and my mom is in jail and has refused every attempt I’ve made to visit her because I turned her in. And I’m allergic to lilies. I can’t even really walk.” “You’re getting better,” He reassured you softly, his eyes sad as he gently held your hand. “Am I?” You asked, then sighed. “It just feels like it never ends.” He nodded, then got up before picking you up. “You’ll feel better tomorrow, after you get some sleep. Do you want to go to the hospital with us?” You shrugged. “It’s a family thing. I don’t want to intrude.” “You won’t be intruding. You’re part of this family now.” He helped you pull the covers over you. “Besides, they’re going to be cute kids.” “They’ve got good genes,” You replied, half-asleep already. He whispered something in reply, kissing your forehead, but you were drifting to sleep too fast to make it out.

Masterlist.  ~  Part 8.  ~  Part 10.  ~  Masterpost.

Tagged: @jiminslye @musicandmusing @it-is-dana @kimmie113080 @bluebirdphantom

[kyle-writes]

Pit Stop (Part 2)

It continues...

Dylan screamed along with the engine of his bike as he fled the gas station. He paid little attention to his direction, all he wanted to do was get away from that thing. After the first turn, three hundred yards from the station, he nearly crashed---the empty streets were suddenly littered with debris: broken down cars, scatterings of glass and twisted metal. A dull red fire hydrant torn out of its foundation, but no water spouting into the air. 

The old man, still panting and with a sore throat, slowly brought his bike to a stop. Scanning the path ahead, he also noticed blood and body parts mixed in with the other debris. Arms, torsos, legs. Heads. Heads that looked like they’d been skinned, skulls opened, and brains scooped out. Dylan fought the urge to vomit, not that there was much in his stomach in the first place. Somewhere in the distance, carried by the soft wind, he smelled fire. 

Carefully, Dylan steered his bike through the chaos, the low purr of the engine the only sound in the air. It made him uncomfortable, he felt like an easy target....so he kept his head down low. 

The further he traveled into town, the worse things started to look. Whole houses were torn apart or burned down to their skeletons. And there were some actual skeletons as well, up in trees, sticking out of sewer drains, tangled up in bushes. He even saw a chewed up corpse on a roof, its white tiles stained with blood. The person had been trying to escape something, the bloody trail leading into an attic window several feet away. Their legs were missing, shredded jeans telling a tale of terror. 

 No signs of life. That is until a horrific screech pierced the air and out from a pile of brush darted a small black figure. 

It was a cat, fur matted with blood and tiny green tentacles sprouting from all over. Its golden eyes were nearly popping out of its skull in terror as it wailed and flailed its way into the open. The poor animal stumbled over its front paws as it fell off the curb, thrashing against the alien things that lashed at it with bloody spikes. Now Dylan had come to a complete stop, the thought of putting the cat out of its misery flittered across his mind but before he could do anything it fell right in the middle of the road and exploded in a mist of fur and guts, leaving behind a writhing mass of tentacles the size of a football. 

Dylan inched his bike forward and around the writhing mass until he was in front of it. He switched the bike in to reverse and slowly backed up until the back tire was nearly touching the tentacles. Then he flipped into neutral and turned on the gas. With a loud squeal and a thick pillar of smoke, the motorcycle shredded the mass of tentacles like tissue paper, sending bits of it scattering up into the air and away with the wind. It left a surprising lack of mess behind. 

Dylan felt a chill go up and down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He slapped them down, looking around. His eyes passed over an open drain to his left, in the curb, and for a brief moment a pair of glimmering golden eyes stared out at him. Dylan did a double take and they disappeared. Was it the thing from the gas station? Or something else? He shuddered to think just what might be lurking around him, unseen. He scratched at his beard nervously and shifted back into first gear, doing his best to ignore the feeling of dozens of eyes staring daggers into his back. 

The sun was starting to set before Dylan began to relax in the slightest. The roads were clearing and the devastation was letting up. Fewer ruined homes and vehicles. Fewer corpses, or at least pieces of them. There was no way it was safe to be out in the dark around here, so Dylan began to take stock of the homes he passed. None looked appealing. No porch lights came on as the darkness approached. Only stillness. 

The road ahead dipped down and Dylan could see that he was coming up on whatever Harterville probably once considered the ‘business district.’ A cluster of tall brick buildings with a Walmart and McDonald’s off to the right side, as if added as an afterthought. To the left was a broken down motel, right next to the police station. Further down the path, a good mile and a half away, there rose several thick columns of black smoke, barely visible in the dying light. Dylan wondered what was burning. 

The road cleared as Dylan drew closer to the police station. There was a vague doubt tickling the back of his brain, one that told him he would not find any help there. 

“Probably not.” Dylan said aloud, as he rolled into the parking lot. 

There were no cars, but dozens of dark tire marks told him there had been and that they had all left in a hurry. Dylan stopped himself as he started to reach for his pistol, wondering if it was a good idea to walk in armed. He lifted his leather jacket up and over the pistol, which he moved to the front of his belt. Behind him, street lights began to flicker to life, casting pale white light all over the worn down, and twisted roads of Harterville. 

The glass doors opened with a barely audible whoosh as Dylan pushed his way inside. It was pleasantly cool in the station, but as he had predicted it was also empty. 

No one sat behind the desk in the lobby. A small plant of some kind sitting in one corner, looking half-dead and drooping. There was a slick, black phone sitting next to an unpowered computer monitor, and a messy pile of papers piled in the center, over the keyboard. 

Moving as quietly as he could, Dylan moved behind the desk to check the papers, thinking maybe he could find something useful there. Information of some kind. When he pushed the rolling chair out of his way he looked down and saw a woman in a uniform sitting beneath the desk, her face caked in blood, eyes big as dinner plates...and black as night. 

He yelped in terror, and she responded in kind. But with a single blink she was gone. Dylan leaned against the wall, staring at the now empty space beneath the desk, gasping for air and clutching a fistful of his jacket with one hand.

“Jesus...Christ...,” he managed to gasp, hunching over, hands on his knees. 

The papers had fallen from the desk and scattered across the floor. Ruffling through them provided a frustrating lack of useful information, but there was a pattern in the dozen or so most recently filled out reports. Domestic disturbances involving teenagers becoming combative with parents, extremely violent fights at the high school (one involving knives and several trips to the hospital for stitches and other, more serious injuries), and several runaway and missing children alerts. 

Dylan slowly stood up from the floor, having spent a half hour going through all the reports. He winced as his knees and back cried out with sharp pains, leaning on the desk for support. 

That was stupid, Henderson. Dylan cursed at himself as he fought to push the pain away. He looked up and saw it was now officially nighttime. 

Feeling somehow exposed and vulnerable, Dylan left the lobby of the police station, going through a black door to his right that lead into a large office area where it looked like the local police force made their home. The lights came on with a soft lick and low hum. Dozens of desks sat empty all around, some with cups of long-cold coffee sitting on them still untouched. Thankfully, all the blinds for all of the windows were down. 

In the back of the room was a partitioned area with a door labeled “Chief’s Office.” Dylan made his way there, weaving his way through the desks. He reached out for the door handle but found himself pausing just as his fingers brushed the cold steel. Again, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Dylan slapped the back of his neck hard, and as if in answer there came a hard thump from somewhere outside. This was followed by a low, deep groan that lasted a good fifteen seconds before trailing off into a wet grinding noise before finally growing quiet. 

The door came open with nary a sound, much to Dylan’s relief, and he slipped into the windowless room while flipping the light on at the same time. For whatever reason, the door was lockable...which also made him feel better. An old oak desk sat in the center of the office, flanked to the left by a pair of heavy duty filing cabinets and to the right by a large bookshelf that reached the ceiling. But even better there was a leather couch against the wall next to the bookshelf. Dylan settled in, finding the couch a bit short, but better than nothing. He pushed his pistol beneath one of the weird stationary pillows he was using and stared up at the ceiling as he waited for sleep. 

[idkyeol]

Chubby Girls can't Date Idols 2 (Minseok)

Minseok x Reader. Appearances by OT9 & Other SM Artists.

TW: Fat Shaming.

Word Count: 1.9k

As you and Sehun made your way to the door you were still thinking about why Minseok would look sad. You wondered if he might like you. Then you shook your head and laughed at your insane thoughts. Kim Minseok dated cute, petite girls. Girls who were quiet and always respectful. Not chubby, sarcastic girls who didn’t know when you keep their mouths shut..“What’s so funny, noona?” Forgetting Sehun was there You jumped and he laughed. “Nothing! Just lost in my thoughts, Sehunnie.” You both get in and locate his sweater. “Here ya go!” He smiles. “Well I should get home. Goodnight Noona!” He hugged you and you walked him to the door. “Sehun, I wanna order lunch tomorrow. What’s your favorite?” He gave you the number to a place. After he left your made your way to the shower and bed. Still kicking yourself for thinking that you could ever attract an idol.

The next morning, as you made your way to the office you stopped for coffee for you and the boys. As you entered the cafe and made your way to the front, you heard laughing. You paid no mind to them and placed your order. The girl taking your order was familiar with your usual order. She was adorable and would make small talk when it wasn’t busy. “How are you today, Nari?” She smiles. “I’m good. School is a little rough but I’m getting through it.” Before you can respond you hear a voice behind you. “Can you please get your fat ass out of the way? Other people want to order.” You wince and Nari notices. You see her furrow her eyebrows. She starts to talk but her manager speaks over her. “Actually sir, you can leave. We don’t want business from disgusting assholes.” You turn and smile at the man. “Such a big ego, for such a tiny man. I can lose weight. You’ll always have a small dick. There’s the door.” You watch as his face tuns red and he storms out. You thank Nari and her boss, take your drinks, and get to the practice room. You instantly run to Sehun to tell him what happened. “Hun, I thought he was gonna burst into flames. It was so funny.” Minseok walks up to you guys. “What was so funny?” You tell him the story and he looks pissed. “Minnie, it’s okay! I’m used to it now. I promise.” He smiles at the nickname. “Okay but if you ever don’t feel good, please tell me.” You nod and smile, not trusting your brain to make any coherent sentences. You really needed to purge your body of this crush. It was going to kill you one day.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quick. You were getting all of the promotions ready for exordium in Singapore. While you’re finishing up there is a knock at your door. “Come in!” Amber and Krystal walk in. “Hey Amber! Oh! Krystal, right?” She smiles. “Yup! Amber and Jongin have told me so much about you! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come and meet you.” You laugh. “No no it’s okay! I know you’re busy. But I’m glad because Jongin talks about you constantly.” They stay with you for a bit before Amber makes a comment. “Girl, have you lost weight?” You laugh at her. “A little. Mostly because I’ve been so busy. And I’ve been stuck with the boys and eating mostly Kyungsoo’s cooking.” They both laugh. “Well you look good. Are you going to the SM Valentine’s Day formal?” You look at her puzzled. She continues “basically it’s a huge party, formal dressing of course, and we all get drunk. If you’re single, we bash the couples.” You smack her arm. “Well I guess we’re getting wasted on Valentine’s Day together!”

There was exactly one week until Valentine’s Day and the SM formal. Krystal had invited you to go dress shopping with her. You were a little scared because you didn’t know if they would carry anything in a size 12. “Krystal, I’m having second thoughts about going. I won’t be able to find my size.” She smiles. “Girl. We’re just looking for styles. We have a seamstress that will make them!” You sighed in relief. “Thank you for this Krystal. You and Amber are the only Girls I’ve gotten close to. Everyone else looks at me like I’m an alien.” This causes her to laugh out loud. “I don’t understand why everyone is so judgmental. I’m sorry you have to deal with it.” You agreed and the search began. By the end of the day you guys were able to both find dresses. As you made your way back home, you see a note on your door. It’s from the boys asking you to meet them at the dorm. Shaking your head, thinking about how these nerds can’t even use a phone. You walk over there and run into Nari. You call her over. “Nari! How are you?” She hugs you and smiles. “I’m great. Just got out of class. Where are you headed?” Before you can answer your phone rings. “Sorry Nari, its for work! I’ll see you in the morning?” She nodded and went on her way. You see Chanyeol is calling. Before you can say hello you hear you. “NOONA! Where are you?!” You laugh at his impatience and knock on the door. “Outside!”

The door swings open and you’re pulled inside. All the boys are there. Baekhyun starts talking. “So the formal is next week. The only person with a date is Nini. So we wanted to know if you would come with the rest of us!” You giggle at his enthusiasm. “Of course, Baek.” So that’s how you ended up on a date with 8 members of EXO. The next few days goes by pretty fast. The party was Friday. On Wednesday, you’re summoned to Krystal’s seamstress to try on your dress. When you get there, Minseok is getting his tux tailored. “Noona! What’s up?” You wave and explain you’re here to try on your dress. “Wanna stay and see it?” He smiles and nods his head. You head to the back to put it on. Once it’s on you’re happy about the fit. You walked out to get Minseok’s opinion. You’re wearing a floor length, empire waisted strapless dress. It had a v neck and it was little gray and accentuated all of your curves in the best way possible. He had an unreadable look on his face and his jaw was dropped. You started to get antsy. “Is it that bad, Min?” He shook his head. “You look gorgeous.” He says in an almost whisper. The air was getting awkward but the seamstress walked back in. “It’s perfect! I’ll have it pressed sent over to you.” You change and when you come out Minseok is gone. Thursday was pretty uneventful. You were finally introduced to sehun’s baby, ViVi. He swore that ViVi hated new people and was surprised when ViVi didn’t want to leave your office. So you spent your Thursday with ViVi.

Once the day of the party rolled around you were busy. You only saw the boys for a few minutes. Once your day was over you met Krystal to go and get your hair and makeup done. When it’s all done and you’re in the dress you go back to Krystal. “Holy shit. You are gorgeous! Hold on, I gotta show Amber.” You guys take a few pictures before you both head to the dorm to meet the boys. When you walk in, all of the boys freak out. The first to calm down is Jongdae. “Hot damn, our noona is a babe!” Once everyone is ready, you head to the party. The party is extravagant to say the least. Everyone looks amazing and is taking pictures together. After what seems like hours of dancing, you make your way to the bar. While waiting for your drink a few of the boys and Krystal walk up. You’re having a great time until you’re pushing rather hard into the bad. You see Yoona stranding there. “Wow. They let just anyone come to this party.” You try to ignore her but when you turn around to get your drink from the bartender, Yoona beats you to it and spills it on you. “Oops” she says with a smirk. You’re frozen. You can hear her friend laughing. You register a touch to your shoulder but don’t respond. You needed out. Now. You try to flee and just as you get past Yoona’s friend you feel yourself falling. Once your butt hits the ground all eyes are on you. As you’re getting up you hear Yoona spew out insult. You can feel the tears coming. You rush to the bathroom with Minseok chasing you, after watching the whole thing.

As you make it to the bathroom, you run in and lock the door. Not seeing the attendant sitting there. You get to a stall and let it out. Your chest is tight. You realize you’re having a panic attack. You hear the door slam open and some mumbled words. Then someone left. You hear a knock on your stall door. “Please open the door.” Its Minseok. You’re still gasping for air when you open it. He pulls you into his arms and lets you cry. Meanwhile, Yoona and her friend are still laughing. Krystal walks over and taps her shoulder. Yoona turns around and is smacked across the face. The music stops and everyone is watching. Krystal doesn’t say anything. Then everyone hears cheers. Baekhyun and Jongdae are cheering. “Finally someone puts that cunt in her place!” Baekhyun yells. “Yeah, she’s always been a huge bitch. I’m not sure why she’s even still here.” Jongdae adds. Krystal can see the panic in Yoona’s eyes. Before anyone else can react, security comes and escorts both of the girls. The music starts up and everyone keeps partying, except the exo boys and Krystal. “I’m over this, I’m texting Minseok. Let’s get out of here.” Sehun says.

Once you’re finally stopped sobbing, Minseok continued to hug you and rub your back. You start to speak. “I try so hard to be strong when people are rude. But it’s never turned physical.” He doesn’t respond. Just hugs you a bit tighter. After a few more minutes he finally speaks. “You are always so strong. It’s okay to be upset. I’m sorry this happened.” You laugh at him. “Thank you, Minseok. You’re amazing. Wanna get out of here?” He pulls away from the hug and grabs your hand. You run together out the door, into the cool night air. You both decide to walk to the dorm. Half way there you notice he hasn’t let go of your hand. Once you get to the door he stops and pulls you to face him. He stares for a minute and then presses his lips to yours. You’re temporarily stunned but start kissing him back. Before you know he pulls away and it’s over. You touch your lips. “Wow.” He gives you his signature gummy smile and walks inside. Leaving on the porch to collect your thoughts. What the hell did that mean? You were even more confused now but you knew with absolute certainty that you were in love with Kim Minseok.

[storyunrelated]

Cold Hard Hugs #17_Sudden Trips

Do people really do this? Probably not. But that’s stories for you.

“Guess what!” Tillie practically squeaked.She radiated joy and excitement as she came into my room with nary a knock. I could have been doing anything! I was mostly just waiting for her, but the potential for me to be doing anything was there.

“What?” I asked, lunging up from where I’d been sitting on the bed. It sounded like big news, it sounded like the sort of thing I should be standing for.

“I’m going to America!” She announced. That certainly was big. And a surprise. And sort of in need of further explanation. I may have gaped like a fish.

“...right now?” I asked, lacking better options.

“No, like, well, Skaffen was - you see, she - the plan is,” Tillie babbled, words butting up against words and sentences spiralling into bits and pieces even as she started to form them. Once she slowed down a bit something approaching sense started to form and I got a picture of what was happening.

It went something like this, as far as I could tell:

Skaffen had already been planning a trip to America with Johnny, an old friend of hers who was also - coincidentally! - an old friend of Tillie’s as well. This trip was set to coincide with reading week, which was coming up shortly. Next week, in fact. Seeing no reason not to Skaffen had invited Tillie on the spur of the moment. Seeing no reason not to say no, Tillie had said yes. Benefit of a father with means was that you could agree to do these things without much forethought. Apparently.

What suddenness though! Did people really make snap decisions like that? Wasn’t going to America, like, super-expensive? How doting was her father, exactly? Also, hadn’t we planned to do stuff during reading week? Together stuff? Well, we had planned to plan. Not quite the same thing. Presumably Tillie had already considered these issues so there was no use in asking. I was the one with the problem.

I had not been on holiday since I was a tiny child. Not a proper holiday, at least, which I define in my head as leaving the country. Maybe etiquette had changed since then. Maybe deciding to go with no real forethought was the done thing nowadays. Stranger things had happened.

“Wow. Cool!” I said, for what else could I say? Tillie was practically vibrating.

“I know, right?”

“So America, huh?” I said. I knew little of America, or at least I knew about as much as the next person. What if the next person knew a lot about America? Then I would know less than them. Keep going until you found someone with an average understanding of America. That would be me.

On me saying this, Tillie’s aspect changed somewhat. Almost sheepish all in a flash. The quivering with excitement stopped, or at least ebbed enough to be barely noticeable.

“Sorry…”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s fine. I get it, it’s cool.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t have to go if-” she started, but I wasn’t going to let her finish that. I took hold of her hands in mine and that did a very good job of stopping her sentence cold.

“It’s fine. You obviously want to go and I’m not going to be the kind of dick who says no. Why would I do that? There are no good reasons to do that. You go, you have fun. This is me bossing you about - you go and you have fun. Okay?”

“As long as you’re okay. I feel like I’m abandoning you. I know you-”

“It probably feels like I keep interrupting you - because I, you know, am - but I’m totally serious. Go. It sounds super fun. A way better way of spending the week then whatever I could have concocted for us.”

Making things better than things I could organise wasn’t exactly a high bar to get over, but still, the point stood. Besides, her glee at the prospect of America was so potent her lights were almost blinding. She bounced in place and squeezed my hands hard enough I’m pretty sure I heard the knuckles creak.

“Thank you!” She squeaked, again, finally releasing my hands. I tried not to make too relieved a sound at this, rubbing some pain out of them and some feeling back in.

“I didn’t do anything, don’t worry about it.”

People thanking me for no reason always confused me. I think it’s an English thing. I do my best to get people to snap out of it, but they never do. The important thing is trying. While my brain was mulling that over my mouth had ideas of its own, and was moving against me. Only as words spewed forth did I truly realise its dark purposes.

“This is probably going to sound like a tactless question but...what does your dad look like? Just out of curiosity?” My mouth asked, without permission. My blood turned to ice.

No! No mouth! You broke my rule! Never ask questions! Not about actual things! Noooooo!

“Well...he’s got a tail like me but he doesn’t use it to move around because he’s got legs that come out his back. His tail’s got like an, uh, pincer thingy on the end he uses to pick stuff up. And arms, he’s got regular arms. Four, actually. And lenses like mine sort of, and all these little manipulator...things underneath them. Like, uh, you know shrimp?”

“Not intimately, but enough to know what you’re driving at.”

“Yeah, like that. But not completely like that. He’s pretty big, too. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

He sounded great.Would he even fit in the house if he came here to question my intentions with his daughter? This was not a thing flesh-and-blood people usually had to worry about, I would expect.

“You’ve never asked about my family before,” Tillie said. Accusingly? Curiously? Or no ‘ly’ at all? I was probably imagining things. Paranoia strangling my joy like a creeping vine! Or something.

“No, I haven’t...remiss of me. Sorry.”

Tillie was moving at this point, and as the conversation was clearly not over yet I moved with her. It was odd actually watching her move down the stairs so I tried not to watch it too closely. She looked more rounded from the back as well, I noticed, or was I also imagining that? It’s hard to keep track of what I remember that’s real and what I remember that I’ve embellished. It’s why it pays to perceive reality as a vague and amorphous blob rather than something set in stone. Maybe? Would go a long way to explaining my academic performance, mind.

“It’s okay. Are you going to be alright here on your own? Why don’t you go back to your parents?” Tillie asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs and heading into her room. I followed.

“I’ll be fine. I already told them I wouldn’t be coming back so I think they have something planned now anyway. It’ll be fine,” I said. This was true. I think they were going on holiday as well, though not America. I could always go back to mooch around the house back home but, really, what’s the difference in mooching between here and there? Not enough to warrant the journey. If I’m going to be home alone I don’t see why I should take a train to do it, you know? It’s fine anyway.

Looking around her room my eyes fell on the nest again. I remembered the cosiness and comfiness of it and found myself smiling without really meaning to. Maybe when I was left on my own I might borrow an element of it - a pillow, a blanket - just to keep me company. Assuming Tillie didn’t lock her room, of course.

“Skaffen is going to stay here. It’s only a day or two until we need to go and it’s closer to the airport here anyway,” Tillie said. I tried not to feel immediately miserable at this news. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I’d want to feel miserable about the idea of having Skaffen around, I just did. Odd.

“She is? Uh, cool. Where? Your room? She can have my bed if she wants but, uh, she probably won’t. Uh…” I had run out of options at this point and my brain stalled.

“She’ll be fine on the sofa. Skaffen likes her own space,” the sofa, of course! How silly of me. Just seemed a rude place to put a guest. But what did I know?

“Cool. I’ll go set her up on the sofa,” I said, turning and leaving. Then I paused.

“Is there anything I should know about setting it up for her? I don’t want to, ah, make a mess of it...and you’d think it would be hard to mess up this, wouldn’t you? I could probably manage it though.”

Tillie giggled, picking up an armful of blankets from the pile in the corner opposite the nest - she really did have a prodigious amount, far more than last time I swear - and thrust them towards me. I took them. Clever idea. I don’t know what I’d been planning to do on my Todd without any blankets or anything, now I thought about it. That would be panic guiding my actions, maybe. Tillie’s hand found one of mine clutching the bundle o’ blankets.

“Don’t worry so much. Just make the sort of sofa you’d enjoy sleeping on,” she said.

The last sofa I slept on - mere days ago, in fact - had been less than ideal for its purpose. I had used cushions instead of a blanket because I, well, had not had a blanket. They hadn’t really worked. I could definitely do better than that now.

“I can manage that,” I said. I didn’t believe it, but Tillie didn’t have to know my misgivings.

Re-entering the lounge I found Skaffen by the window, presumably looking out? It was hard to tell. Wait, no. Impossible to tell, that was the one. Her angle was such she was either looking out or else positioned so she was facing the door waiting for me. Practically this made little difference of course, and she didn’t react to me coming in either way.

“Here to make the sofa up for you,” I said, to no response. Was this room cold or was it just me? The room was always pretty cold, though not quite like this. Both, then. I started fussing with the sofa if only to have something to do. I actually think I did a pretty good job of it, all told, though that’s hardly something worthy of being too impressed by.

Midway through spreading out blankets and shifting cushions I made the rookie mistake of trying to strike up conversation. I was breaking my rules all over the shop today. Like a bull in a, well, china shop. A china shop of rules. So much shop up in here.

“So...did you take the train down?” I asked.

“Do I look like I took the train down?”

“Anyone can take a train. They’re very egalitarian,” I said. In fairness to myself, this was true. Clearly the wrong answer though.

“No. I did not take the train down. I came here under my own power.”

Did that mean she flew? Could she flew? Fly, rather. Not flew. Flying did seem a step above simply being there in mid air like she was right then, but what did I know? I certainly wasn’t going to ask, not at this point. My luck with asking questions seemed to have run out several years ago.

“You know, with all of these folks running around with all of these extraordinary abilities I would have expected more social upheaval,” I said, scratching my chin. From the corner of my eye I could see Skaffen very, very slowly turning on the spot towards me. So she had been facing the window! I could almost feel her scorn searing into my back like the heat of a disdainful, disgusted sun.

“Society has changed massively,” she said levelly.

“Oh. Obviously! Obviously,” I said, saving no face whatsoever as I minutely adjusted where a cushion was.

“Why do you think flesh-and-blood people don’t like us? Why do you think Tillie had no friends all last year? Did you never ask about her life growing up? Her family environment?” Skaffen asked, her tone cold enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up and lower the temperature of the room even more.

“I asked about her father, uh, earlier,” I said in my defense, though it was patently useless.

“Because he came up in conversation today?” Skaffen asked. The answer was so obvious I didn’t need to say it.

”I always figured if she thought it was important she would tell me,” I said.

“You are a stunningly incurious person.”

“Thanks?”

That was a compliment, right?

“That was not meant as a compliment.”

Fuck!

“Still. America, eh? Fun place, I’ve heard,” I said, grasping at straws at this point. A wiser man, having finished the sofa (as I had) would have fled at once and as politely as possible. But I am repeatedly, demonstrably unwise. And so I hung around. I think a part of me was wanting, desperately, to have the conversation end on a high-note. Or at least on a note that didn’t feel quite so hostile.

“Tillie’s always wanted to go to America. Ever since she was little. You didn’t know?” Skaffen asked, gliding over and tilting to examine the sofa. I had a feeling my efforts would not be up to her standards. I had a feeling no amount of effort on my part would be up to Skaffen’s standards.

“I never asked.”

“That’s okay then.”

I had the distinct impression that Skaffen did not like me. Though I had no concrete way of backing this up. Just a gut feeling. A very strong one.

When I was a boy - and not a fully mature, experienced young adult as I was now - I had been reliably informed that aloof, standoffish behaviour on the part of girls was a positive thing. It sort of acted in the converse of ‘boys tugging on girls pigtails’. If a girl was ignoring you or was not really paying you much attention it was merely her shy, coquetteish way of disgusing her hidden affection for you.

I’m not sure who told me this, now I think about it, as running it back through my head it’s plainly cobblers. You would honestly have to be a child to believe a word of it.

But yesh, cobblers. Or more accurately bullshit. As I later learnt if a girl is acting this way towards you (or a boy, or anyone really) it probably just means they’re not that interested in talking to you. If they’re actively cold or distant that it’s far more likely they just straight-up don’t like you rather than hiding anything warm and fuzzy. No amount of persistence will change this. In fact, persistence will likely harden them against you even more. So best not do that.

And of course if they ignore you at a party and then don’t speak to you for three days it’s likely your relationship is nearing its end phase. That’s a very specific scenario I agree but it’s one I can confirm from personal experience. Watch out for that.

The point of all this being I don’t think there was much depth or subtlety to what I could now confidently categorise as Skaffen’s negative attitude towards me. She just didn’t like me. Which is fair enough, she’s under no obligation to like me. It just made conversations tough, because I insisted on having them. Mea culpa. Can’t say I didn’t try.

“Well...that’s your sofa done. Need anything else?” I asked, finally deciding that discretion was probably the better part of valour here. That, and continuing to try and speak to someone who was clearly not enjoying it was a bit of an unpleasant thing for me to be doing. And experiencing.

“No,” she said.

As much as I was curious to see how exactly Skaffen planned on using a sofa with blankets I knew this was not something that was going to happen with me there, so I left. Sticking my head in to Tillie’s room - silently, as she clearly did not notice me doing so - I found her hip-deep in wading through websites about America. I felt it best not to disturb her, so sloped back upstairs to sit on my bed and stare into space, not really knowing of any other, better way to spend the rest of my evening.

Good times. Good times.