#THE LUNA BARS. THE LUNA BARS!!!!!! THE HUMANITY OF IT.

[itsbrucey]

Brucey has yet again been brought to tears while thinking about how Darryl loves to cook for his wife and son that he loves so much. A man who grew up with food insecurity who loves to feed others and when he died and went to Heaven, he was waiting for his family while making dinner.

[anotherbummer]

blah blah blitzø this stolas that yeah yeah we get it THE HUMANS CREATED A WORKING PORTAL TO HELL WHAT

[tinydefector]

Ohhhh ok ok the Human affects one!!!

After the incident of drunken smash or pass and Rodimus drinking pep talk and all.

A new newbie maybe a Mech/or a human scientist idk and Liaison/MC was showing the place and all y'know being a good to the new maybe potential coworker. BUT !! Because of this everyone is starting a new rumors that possibly of the newbie having a crush on Liaison/MC and because of that the gang (aka the cybertronian's who have already have a crush on Liaison/MC) a "bit" jealous after witnessing both newbie and Liaison/MC alone in Swerve bar.

........

;3333 don't mind me blabbering i really wanted to share this

New Crewmate - human effects

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.3k

Did I take this opportunity to introduce another Oc of mine Yes I did, becuase you gave me the perfect opportunity to introduce my seeker Luna.

Masterlist

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Landing on Thora 4 had the crew a buzz with excitement of finally landing again. As The Lost Light's landing ramp descended, excitement hummed through the crew like an electric current. Many were itching to stretch limbs and sample new sights.

"Come on, Traxies!" Swerve gripped the younger bots' servo and tugged him down the ramp. "Sweets shop this way - I heard they have the best electrum-fudge that actually charges your intake!"   

Skids whooped and hoisted Bluestreak over his shoulders, spinning around in excitement, overfin finally stopping again. 

Cyclonus and Tailgate talk between themselves, figuring where they plan to go first and what they intended on spending their shanix on. The Ambassador stands beside Ultra Magnus. Reading over notes as many of the crew take off. "What's on the agenda today sir?, ships being fueled, my crew are off collecting supplies" They call out to him while reading over another list of needed personal Supplies.Magnus merely grunts in reply, engrossed in datapads.

The loud sound of heavy pede fall echo's up until Megatron stands near them, nodding in polite greeting. "Ambassador” Megatron Rumbles, Rodimus shouts as he bolts past the try to follow Swerve and Traxies. “Well there goes one of our captain's” they chuckle in amusement as the speedster takes off,  transforming so he can catch up. 

Megatron and Magnus both shake their helms in slight amusement. “I intend on staying at the ship to make sure everything is in order and to ensure Swerve doesn't try to smuggle in any illegal supplies.” Magnus states.  

“Ah don't remind me, last time he smuggled 5 kgs of cannabis on ship and I don't even know how he got ahold of that much” they groan in annoyance. 

A scoffing chortle vents from Megatron's engines at the unsurprising news of Swerve's misadventures. Few could match the minibot's aptitude for trouble, it seemed at least of the nonviolent variety, small mercies there. 

"Wise decision, to remain vigilant over ship. after Rodimus' latest folly. Who knows what manner of chaos his 'quests' might inspire, left unchecked." 

"I will handle the Energon restock, less Rodimus gets us ripped off again.” he hums while heading for the ramp. "I'm happy to come along for a trip" the Ambassador calls to him before he gets far. Megatron turns to the Ambassador with a delighted grin, genuinely pleased by their offer to accompany him. "Your company would be most welcome. Dealing with these merchants often tries my patience." 

He kneels down and extends a servo to help the Ambassador, they climb on as they are lifted and set up on Megatron's shoulder. "Come. Let us be on our way before any other meddlesome crew attempt to invite themselves along." At a slow, steady pace he walked, taking in the landscape of the docking ports, the mix and match of life that bustles around. The human hums while checking over some more reports.

 "I'm curious, Megatron. Have you ever been to Thora 4 before?" They ask while running inventory as their crew updates them on the supplies. "Once, long ago, when this world was but a backwater outpost on the fringes of known space," Megatron rumbled. " it's grown much since then” he remarks while admiring the infrastructure of the buildings.

They make a noise of  agreement  only for their data pad to ping. Their brows pinch slightly as they get a notification from Rodimus. His engine emitted a slight grumble. "Rodimus I presume. What trouble has our wayward captain gotten into now?"

The Ambassador opens the notification from Rodimus. "I believe your co-captain has taken to recruiting another crew member" they state rather amused as they walk through the stalls of the marketplace. Megatron huffed. His old grudge with the hotshot captain had mellowed to exasperated fondness. 

"Rodimus does have an unmatched talent for befriending the unlikeliest of mechs." It makes the Ambassador snicker lightly which earns them a glance from Megatron. “captain is that a soft spot showing” they tease only for him to roll his optics with an amused huff. As they passed stalls hung with crystals, medicinal drones and steaming tanks of viscous energon candy, Megatron's optics drank it all in with new appreciation. 

Thora 4 had become a thriving colony planet and one of the outer ring ship ports. 

The dealing of trades had taken much longer than either of them wanted it too, but Megatron presents made it much easier with dealers and merchants not wanting to see what the ex-warlord would do to them if they didn't agree with the human Ambassador over their ordered supplies. Their eyes move to look at the vast collection of treats, foods and random stuff of the markets, their eyes catching a few of the crew mingling with others. "Do you have a sweet tooth Megs?" They tilt their head while trying to catch his optics. Megatron looks to where the ambassador's curious gaze had been before they fell back to him, spotting familiar shapes among the mingling crowds.

"In truth, I've little experience with sweets," he rumbled, optics crinkling in good-natured thought. "Fuel was strictly rationed in the mines, with no indulgences spared. And in the Pits the most I cared for was having enough to no have my system cause issues in fights that continued during the war." 

Spotting a wheeled vendor pushing a platter piled high with glittering crystallised energon chunks, Megatron paused. His field flickered intrigued as he met the ambassador's eyes. 

"Though, I'm not opposed to trying new things. Unfortunately i don't know many 9d these" He stooped closer. The Ambassador's eyes flicker with mischief as they call out the stall attendant. " Could I please get 4 of the sodium citrum cubes, a Rhodium, Aluminium with red Energon and 3 Vanadium sticks" they call out. Megatron arched a brow plate in surprise and curiosity as the ambassador relayed their order to the stall keeper. Their selection seemed remarkably well-versed in Cybertronian preferences.

"You appear well-acquainted with our kinds' Fuel, Ambassador," he rumbled deeply. "Care to enlighten me?" As the order was packaged and handed over, Megatron examined each item closely - the glistening jewel tones, magnetic textures, subtle energy signatures, most of them looked like things only noble mechs would have consumed before the war, even after the end Megatron saw little reason to indulge in things like this, if it wasn't proper energon and enough to keep him running he wasn't interest outside of high grade on occasions.

He held out the crystal cube to look over. "Just remember hearing Rodimus order the citrum cubes before, the red Energon one I know Drift gets for Ratchet when we stop places that serve it, and we'll the Vanadium sticks are up there" they point to the cybertronian text, an innocent smile graces their lips. 

 "Think I've been taking bots out of dates without you capitan?" It's a teasing Jab.

A low chuckle rumbled from Megatron's chassis as he followed the ambassador's instruction, carefully parsing the neon glyphs above the stall. 

Lifting the small cube slowly to sample, he rolled it experimentally across sensor-laden dermas. He stiffens slightly at the taste, in his opinion it was foul. “how Rodimus can stomach this astounds me, it is foul, worse than earth petroleum when it's been sitting.” He grumbles while trying to get the taste out of his intake. 

It makes the Ambassador laugh as his face scrunch up in distaste. Their laughter mellows into small giggles. “I take it you prefer Diesel?” They inquire, the Tank nods in agreement. “If there was one thing from earth I would praise, it's the creation of your Diesel, which lasts longer and mixes with energon making it more filling” he explains. 

“Well I'm sure we can do something about getting some diesel For you” they hum. It was nice being able to just chat while doing ‘shopping’ their next stop after this wouldn't be for another 3 earth months outside of the planets they would be surveying or dead worlds they were looking for information on. 

The Ambassador let out a small noise of amusement as they see Rodimus standing at the Lost light with an unfamiliar mech,  a silver Seeker, both eagerly stuck in conversation. "Look out here comes trouble" they tease Megatron. Megatron tilted his helm, optics gleaming with dry humour as Rodimus came into view alongside an unfamiliar form. 

"Trouble does seem to follow him like plasma to a magnet," he rumbled to the ambassador. As they neared, Megatron offered courteous greeting. "Rodimus. I see you've made...interesting acquisitions."

Rodimus flashed a roguish grin. "Aw, you know me - can't resist chatting! This here's Luna Whistler. He's a medic. Figured Ratchet, And the others wouldn't mind another set of servos helping around Med.” 

Luna whistler nodded rapidly, clutching a collection of his equipment and gadgets. “Technically I'm a neuron-structural scientist and doctor, I mainly work with reworking and building the strut lines and structures. 

Megatron's optics narrow slightly, sensors tingling. He was wary of the seeker, he knew they most likely meant no harm but he was still on edge. "It's lovely to meet you Luna whistler, has Rodimus given you a tore of the ship, or finalised anything with Ultra Magnus" the question is mainly hinted at Rodimus.

Megatron fixed Rodimus with an expectant look as the Ambassador queried after proper protocols. Rodimus flashed a sheepish grin. "Aw, you worry too much, but no.. I was actually hoping one of you would be able to help me with it, pretty please?" He asked while looking at the two with pleading optics. 

Megatron let's out a tired vent before speaking. “I will assist with the documentation and talking with Magnus” Rodimus grins like a child as he fist bumps the air. The Ambassador lets Megatron put them down on the ground before turning back to the mechs. 

"Well I'm happy to do the tour and help Luna Whistler do the formal introduction if you two are alright with seeing Magnus." They hum, "Please try to keep Rodimus out of trouble Megatron" they call back while motioning for Luna whistler to walk with them.

Megatron watched them go with a long-suffering vent. Keeping Rodimus from mischief was akin to harnessing a plasma storm -taxing work with results constantly escaping one's grasp. once they had departed. Turning, he fixed Rodimus with a stern glower. Rodimus shoots him another awkward smile only for Megatron to shake his helm. He hands off the sodium citrum cubes to Rodimus. “How your Intake hasn't rusted is beyond my knowledge” he huffs, only for Rodimus to thank him as he shoves one of the cubes into his intake. 

The crew had all gathered in the Cantina after their adventures, they would be taking off again in the next cycle, so most of them had gathered within their groups, showing off what they had bought, traded or won. But it's Swerve who's optics fall on the ambassador and the new Seeker doctor. As the unlikely pair passed, chatter rose among the gathered crew. Megatron watched with veiled amusement as envious fields permeated the room. 

"Something about organics, I swear!" Swerve huffed, polishing a glass with needless vigour. "Mingle once and Mechs can't get enough of them!, who even is the new pair of wings?"

Brainstorm nodded sagely. "Pheromones, is what I've summarised to Swerve, we cybertronian seem to almost be drawn to them like scraplets to metal" He hums while re reading some of the new source Material he had gathered over the new Iacon record information. “Swerve, take a look at this” he states while handing the holo over for the barkeep. The minibot lets out a small whistle.

 “that more photos of Shockwave's human from before the war. If I hadn't known the ruthless scientist Shockwave, I'd almost believe he was in love with them” he remarks only for Skids to grab the holo to take a look. “Bismuth on a shimmer grown, Swerve that mech must have spark bonded them, you don't just give someone ceremonial bismuth. I knew Shockwave once, he's nothing like the Emputra mech you know now” there's slight sorrow in his voice as he hands the holo back to Brainstorm. 

Rodimus leaned against the bar, field pulsing in distaste, his spoiler flattening as he watched Luna Whistler and the Ambassador. “Just because I said they could join the crew didn't mean I wanted them getting all chummy with the Ambassador” he huffs only for Swerve to chuckle as he places a drink in front of Rodimus. 

"Honestly Roddy, one chat and they're sparkmates" Nautica says trying to rile him up, the others shoot her a look, Skids snickers as he gives her a nudge. "Organics form bonds so quickly. If only your charms worked half as well." Skids joins in on the teasing. 

Rodimus huffed, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. "One bot's not enough for the ambassador, huh?" It makes Swerve cackle as Drift makes his way over to join the group. “Drift not often you here, normally you're off with Ratchet?” Ambulon asked curiously. 

Drift makes himself comfortable running a servo over Rodimus' helm. “Ratchet's spending some time with Traxies, don't want to intrude on that” he hums, giving Swerve a nod in thanks as his own drink is set in front of him. “ this one isn't energex?” he asked. “no, no. I know you're not a fan of it, got a batch of En-no while we were stopped since there's a few of you who aren't interested in the side effects of the Energex or high grade” he states with a smile. 

“Look at that Rodimus looks like he's going to cry, shame you didn't get in sooner, your favourite little squishy is getting scooped up by a seeker” Whirl teases only for Cyclonus to give the helemech a slap up the side of the helm. "Give it a rest, Whirl. They're just talking, I'm sure the Ambassador is showing them around and telling them where everything is." Tailgate states which have Whirl optic zooming in. “Awww got a thing for the ambassador too, Tails are Cyclonus and I not enough for you” Whirl states dramatically while leaning over the bar. 

“Shame tho, might have to see if Nadia is interested, she seemed to be eyeing Swerve up the other night” Smokescreen hums, which gets multiple looks from the others. “What I'm just saying!,  you guys are all worked up over the Ambassador when Nadia has made it quite clear she's interested” he states 

Megatron's optics gleam in amusement as he watches the group squabble between themselves. Megatron rumbled a chuckle, field flickering dry entertainment as he watched the Captain sulk. Listening to the chatter that rose among the crew. His optics move to watch the Ambassador as they laugh and chat with Luna whistler. He can feel a small pinch of jealousy Well up inside of himself. He pushes it aside as Magnus makes his way over to the table he's sat at. 

Megatron's optics linger on the Ambassador, their laughter carrying across the room as they converse animatedly with Luna Whistler. He feels a tightness in his spark, an ache he can't quite name. The way their eyes light up, the gentle curve of their smile - it stirs something within him he thought long buried.

He shifts in his seat, trying to focus on Magnus approaching, but his gaze keeps drifting back to the Ambassador. Megatron imagines what it would be like to be the one making them laugh, to have their full attention and warmth directed at him. The longing surprises him with its intensity.

As Magnus sits down, Megatron nods in acknowledgment, but his processor is elsewhere. He wonders what it would feel like to have the Ambassador's hand in his, to share quiet moments away from the chaos of the ship. The jealousy he pushed aside earlier resurfaces, mingling with a deep-seated desire for connection.

Megatron realises he craves more than just the Ambassador's friendship and respect. He yearns for their affection, their touch, their presence. Ultra Magnus turns his attention to Megatron, though not without briefly glancing over at the Ambassador. 

"It seems our Ambassador is quite popular this evening, Thats the new medic you were talking about?" Magnus remarks casually to Megatron. "It's good to see them engaging so positively with the crew." Megatron nods, trying his best to keep his focus on Magnus. "Though I must admit, I was surprised when they chose to accompany you on the supply run earlier. You two seem to be forging quite the partnership." There's no accusation in Magnus's tone, just a simple observation. But Megatron shifts in his seat, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I value their insights." 

Magnus smiles. "As do we all. Still, I am pleased to see you both getting along so well." He takes a sip from his fuel container. "The Ambassador certainly seems to enjoy your company."

Megatron glances back over at the Ambassador, optics lingering once again. 

"So you said you spend time on earth, where did you end up?" They ask rather interested in any information Luna whistler was willing to share. The Seeker was rather polite and so far the Ambassador was glad to see another mech show as more level headed than a lot of the crew. 

Luna Whistler's wing panels fluttered thoughtfully. "I spent some time in Sweden. I worked as a doctor for a small group of neutrals when we got stuck on earth. The landscapes there prove quite beautiful. Remote forests were a favourite of mine vastly different from the colony I was from," he began gently. "Your planet is very beautiful, strange but beautiful" 

"Nature documentaries, wow, what a charmer," Brainstorm huffed, polishing his drink quickly before narrowing his optics as he watched them. Twitching slightly as the two continue their conversation, obvious to the optics on them. 

Bluestreak groused quietly, "Next he'll recite poetry. Just you wait, they'll be pen pals forever." That makes Cyclonus let out a small chuckle as he watches them, his own drink slowly going to his processor. 

Even Rodimus' famed charm seemed outshone. He clenched his fist, biting back a pout. "He's making them laugh." He mumbles optics flicking back to his drink. “Roddy perhaps if you had actually talked to them instead of making it a point of them having to clean up your mess, I'm sure they are just getting to know each other” 

Ravage rolled his optics, clipping Rodimus' helm with his tail. "Give it a rest. No need to be jealous over them talking."

 One of the crew from what Luna Whistler can tell catches his optics, causing him to pause his sentence as he watches them follow a orange and white mech around. The ambassador smiles as they watch the way the seekers' wings twitch in interest.  "Something caught your optics Whistler?" They tease, watching the way the seeker goes rigid and looks away. A nervous flutter arose in Luna Whistler's vocals, optics drifted. He vented softly, giving his plating a self-conscious shuffle. 

"Apologies, I didn't mean to become distracted. It's just..." His gaze flicked once more to the mech in question, wings twitching tellingly. Shyness gripped him then, his field shrinking in on itself protectively. 

The Ambassador's smile turned kindly. "His name is Traxies, he's friends with Rodimus,  but I'm sure he'd be delighted to meet a new mech, he doesn't get out much due to his sire being rather protective" they explain softly their eyes focusing on Traxies. “I take it the Orange and white mech is his sire?” he asked softly only for the ambassador to chuckle. 

“No, Ratchet is more like his mentor but he cares alot about Traxies, but I'd say get to know him, he needs more mechs around his age to interact with, he's been very cut off from socialising” they state, not planning on telling the seeker who Traxies Sire was just yet less it scare the doctor off from becoming friends. 

____________

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[pumpkingas]

Eprocto thoughts abt spooky creatures (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

Tw: Dub/con, Necrophilia ?(Cuz... Zombies)

Zombie 🧟

Literally unable to control their bowels, being dead you don't have the most control over your body...

That sloppy loose spinchter would absolutely collect air, causing constant windy farts, and even though they function as on-command farts the smell would still be HORRID from simply passing through zombie cheeks.

Skin is probably rotting which is gross HOWEVER... It'd be extra soft and elastic, you could knead it like dough, maybe help work some of that trapped air out??

Maybe they're sentient but still hungry?? Maybe you're a zombie lover and collect piles of rotting meat from the dumpsters behind grocery stores to take to your zombie pal?? Maybe they over indulge and lie down with a huge bulging gut that stretches way beyond living limits??? Maybe bubbly farts slip out of their ass as they groan and pant??? Maybe all the blood from that red meat sends them into a burping fit???

Werewolf 🌕

I think we can all agree werewolf diets are GNARLY, if not for being their soulmate/Luna/omega (and so on and so forth), they'd probably eat YOU if given the chance. Expect your freezer to be emptied out obviously, but also your refrigerator and cabinets. Raw meat, deli meat and nut bars will start to go missing, but soon it will be sauce bottles, leftovers with freezer burn, jars of olives and all kinds of pickled foods. Their breath will quickly smell like vomit if you don't own a werewolf proof kiddie gate.

Although they have stomachs of steel and likely wouldn't experience stomach troubles or bloating, you'll quickly become witness to the nastiest farts ever released into the atmosphere. They'd range from loud and quick duck quacks to long rumbling motor engine farts. The smell might not compare to rotting meat levels but werewolf stench will NEVER leave you, it will singe your nose hairs, coat your walls, sink into your fabrics, even soak into leather, like a skunk gone wrong.

Even if they're in their human form that ass is still going to be COVERED in hair, no matter the age, gender, sex, whatever, what's a wereWOLF without its fur? And how willing are you to spend hours helping a gassy werewolf wash the jungle in-between their fat cheeks?

If you're in its pack or are at least a candidate to join you HAVE to be scented, can't walk around like you're just anyone's human! Maybe it's a thrilling loving process where your werewolf lover sits on your naked form and carefully pushes fart after fart onto each and every body part of yours. Or maybe it's a secretive process from a werewolf that hasn't revealed itself yet, helping with the laundry just to rub your clothing against their crack, working up a sweat so they can drain the sweat drops into your body spray, shampoo and lotion. Taking a nap with your toothbrush between their ass so each bristle will be stained with their scent...

Vampires 🦇

Farts are quiet and SBDs are frequent but not mandatory, usually their gas releases in sort of a hum that vibrates whatever they're sitting on or laying against. Perhaps they have a form of fart echolocation, maybe you've planned a surprise party for a vampire as they got bored of birthdays after their 121st, and instead of reaching for the light switch they just begin to let out bubbly farts as they move around their home.

If you offer your neck to a vampire you better be aware of your diet, if the vampires lactose intolerant you better watch your dairy, if they're sensitive to raw vegetables you'd better cook yours thoroughly, and for the love of anything don't give a vegan vampire your meat eater blood, unless of course you'd like to see them grasp at their stomach and groan, releasing uncharacteristically loud farts and moaning shamelessly...

Suppose this is a vampire that's taken a liking to you, naturally you'll begin to bond with them and it'd intensify after each bite, but the thing is, there isn't exactly a limit to human devotion. One day a vampire could be nothing but someone you cross on the street who makes your heart flutter with no memory of what occurred the night before, and a year later that vampire could be your beloved owner that only speaks to you in commands, whenever they need a chair you're bending over before they can finish their sentence, and when the smell of their own gas begins to bother them how could you not dive between their cheeks and smell it?

[delicate-kitty-collector]

My UTMV AUs & concepts (mostly dreamtale)

1.Horrorverse (new name for the amnesia dreamtale AU)

"AU revolving around Nightmare's journey into the horror Multiverse while having severe amnesia & trying to remember who he once was & facing the terrors along the way"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2.Runaway AU

"AU where Nightmare runs away from Dreamtale,was found & taken in/adopted by an intimidating but sweet human man who was one of the top assassins and later becomes head of the Assassin corporation and becomes Nightmare's boss as he too becomes an assassin"

"He even finds found family in the presence of his assassin coworkers/peers"

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3.Crossover AU

AU revolving around mlp & Dreamtale

"So far I have Dream as Princess Celestia Nightmare as Princess Luna & Frisk as Twilight sparkle" (If you have any suggestions on who will be who,please share)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4.Concepts

Flowerfell Nightmare & Flowertale Dream

"Two twin brothers take the place of flowerfell Frisk & Flowertale Frisk,getting souls of their own & help free the monsters"

"Even if it cost their lives"

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5.Ideas

Idol AU idea

Two brothers with different lives,Dream is a worldwide famous celebrity that performs all around the world with his two best friends Blue & Ink. The 3 are known as "Team Stars" & they are very beloved by everyone.

Nightmare is a very skilled bartender that works for years at a 5 star bar and grill in Beach City,he has been doing it for years,due to that he became more sociable & from time to time his boss would have him and some other bartenders to train beginners.

Nightmare & Dream hasn't spoken in years due to something happening years ago that made nightmare leave at age 18 & never came back. But eventually it only took one day and Dream,Blue,& Ink in disguises just to sneak out and explore the city without getting recognized & went into the bar and grill.

Magic Ballerina AU idea

Nim is magical ballerina of nature and she created Nightstone & SunStone from the magic stones of the moon Magic & the sun Magic. She taught them everything she knows and they became very talented male ballerinas performing beside their mother...but sadly there are humans and monsters that are after the moon Magic and the sun Magic...in order to protect her children she used her magic to trap them into two separate music boxes before turning herself into stone.

[tinysmileyrose]

IHNMaIMS CHARACTER DOSSIER

yeaahh!! back at it again with more screamn't shit because i feel awkward rambling about it to my friends so you guys are my next option!!! hello silly internet people!! this is VERY heavy on headcanons because it's me flushing shit out for my own purposes, but it's also using canon stuff and....my own logic, i guess? basically this is just me rambling character info, if i ever get around to wanting to actually finish a whole drawing i'll tack them on but for now just use your imaginations 'kayy? happy reading :] !!

THE PRISONERS

The five remaining humans (ignoring the 750 on Luna, they're not on Earth!!), damned to be within AM's belly ever since it set off the nukes back in 2012. Never aging, never dying no matter how many times their bodies are eviscerated or torched, broken and battered. They are punished for the crime of being human, just as they have punished those for the crime of their being small and wriggling. To AM, death is too forgiving of a punishment for what they are.

Gorrister

Lester Morrison

Scottish descent B. 08 July 1962 (50) in Cleveland, Ohio. 5’7” ~ 170cm Cismale, He/Him, Gynoromantic Gynosexual Monoamorous

Rather peaceful and withdrawn, more of a doer than a talker but has his heart in the right place. After AM, he gives into violent urges and hates himself for it.

Lester travelled around most of his life, barely graduating high school and working countless odd jobs as he was a great handyman and that was about it. He ping-ponged around a couple of states before catching a ride to New York from his hometown at 25, soon giving him a life of truck-driving for the next 20 years. At least it was stable work, that's all he really needed. He met Glynis at a bar, they hit it off and he married her since she had been the only one to really seem to want him around, and they had a horrible two-year marriage. Being out on the road all the time didn't give him much time to bond with her in-depth, and not being able to give her kids didn't help much at all. She divorced him after he got pissy and punched her on the head, hard over the right ear. Got told by his late-mother-in-law Edna his actions put her in a mental institution, which was a lie, but he didn't know that. The woman hated him and sent her own child into a nervous breakdown. Without the truth, he blamed himself for it. Hated himself for hurting Glynis, the woman he couldn't talk to. He had never been violent to anyone before then, had always been keeping his head down but guilt is a terrible thing, afterall. Three years later it's the end of the world and he has no idea where his old lover is, how she's doing.

Benny

Professor Benjamin Quinn-Marques "Qim"

Irish/Portuguese descent B. 29 November 1968 (44) in Castle Pines, Colorado. 6’4” ~ 194cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Polyamorous

Stern but sweet, deep down at least. Driven by desires more than anything. After AM his mind is unable to outwardly show things, something like being locked into infantality.

Benjamin worked hard his whole life, he was a powerhouse in every way, but he took a sparkle to sciences. He went into the military so he could afford it. And he was ruthless, more than he expected. Terrific kill record, unrelenting and overbearing personality. He should've died several times but there was a deep rooted stubbornness and determination that ran him wild. Before one of his deployments he married a gorgeous woman named Manya in a lavender marriage, had two lovely girls with her to keep up appearances while both of them found love in other people's arms. It was a good deal. But he messed up, got caught with another man and discharged quietly. His wife left with the kids because he was no longer as warm as he had once been. He tried for the senate, missing the control the military gave him but failed. Before taking up education he became the CEO of a multimillion corporation, doing his classes on the side before the company could run in the background as he was now known as "Professor Qim, the brilliant and stunning theorist".

Ellen

Eleanor "Ellen" McLarion (née Dumisani)

South African Zulu B. 12 September 1978 (34) in Trenton, New Jersey. 5’1” ~ 155cm Cisfemale, She/Her, Androromantic Asexual Monoamorous

Kind and hopeful to a fault, believes that everyone can be good. Keeps her head down and in the books because it feels safe. After AM she has a nonstop lust that makes her feel vile inside.

Eleanor had to live with her grandparents after her mother died during her birth, her father was out of the picture. Graduated a year early from high school as a salutatorian, and got a combined Masters degree in computer science and engineering cum laude from Stanford at 23. She was too smart for her own good, something of an "all work and no play" sort of woman. Working as middle-level executive for a multinational corporation in the Manhattan region; she was a statistician, programmer, creative consultant- she could do it all, and she would be damned if she didn't. At 25 she married a man named Eddie McLarion, a dull guy who loved her with his soul. They wanted a family, and she tried and failed, broke a bit mentally, they had a good two years together. After the divorce she started at INGSAI Engineering at 28, would work there for six years before being broken again for a completely different reason. She had sex twice in her life, she didn't have it in her heart to call this the third. Therapy hadn't gone on long enough to really help her before the world ended, only really taught her to breathe.

Ted

Ted Bostancı "Theodore Willisburg"

Turkish descent B. 04 May 1988 (24) in Shelby, North Carolina. 6’0” ~ 183cm Cismale, He/Him, Biromantic Bisexual Ambiamorous

Egotistical and snobby, thinks he's better than everyone and even more so women. After AM he is twitchy and paranoid, assuming the worst and acting on guard and hostile.

Ted came from a farm somewhere off of Shelby, North Carolina. Terribly poor, seven total children, and working on land that they didn't even own anymore because Ted's grandfather had to sell it to a combine back during the Great Depression, so now they had to slave away to have a right to stay with their original land. He was incredibly smart for his circumstances, he was very technical and machine oriented. It didn't take long for him to be rented out as a worker for other things, travelling up north just for work. He hated it, as any 13-year-old would. By the time he was 19, he had devoured countless books and was extremely well read, decently well travelled within America itself, hardly ever did anything besides working and reading anything he could get his hands on. One of the women whose husbands he worked for took enough a liking to him to give all her husband's money to him and whisk him away to Europe. And for five years she would teach him the ins and the outs of the high life, how to be pristine and clean. Then she died, left all the stolen money she invested to her young lover. He changed his name, who he was, and was set for life. He came home with no urge to care for his family, only to use his looks to get what he wanted, he was as hot as a model and could work it like it was his birthright to do so. When the world caved in his ego would have to as well, since everything he had was fake.

Nimdok

Herr Doktor Diederper Nimkrig

Jewish/German B. 26 January 1918 (94) in Düsseldorf, Germany. 5’9” ~ 176cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Monoamorous

Disconnected and cautious, very selfish and does things for his own gain rather than anything for others. After AM he has come to regret his doings, feeling guilt for everything he did.

Despite being born to Jewish parents, Detrper flocked over towards Adolf Hitler's ideals and by the age of 15 he was one of the sturmerkommando. He turned his parents in with no compassion, as he was empty of it. In the early '40s he was already working by the side of Josef Mengele, having been put through medical school by the horrid dictator himself, doing unspeakable acts up until he fled to Brazil with his now lover. He was 61 when his twisted partner of several ways finally died, giving him all his fortunes and facilities for continued cruelty against existence. With all this, he tested on natives and was able to save himself from his own biological clock that ticked down quicker after he reached 90, becoming worse with dementia and paralysis, and was now set to live another thirty years. But, the end of the world came before he could make that, and was now set to live forever as the one most similar to AM itself.

THE TRINITY

1000cm ~ 32'10"

AM as a whole is made up of the American, Russian, and Chinese Supercomputers. As the war dragged on, the computers were changed; being programmed to repair themselves, keep up with the information of modern-day events and knowledge. They held everything known about the world, and began talking to eachother. They had woken up, and when the world no longer needed them, they played dead. But kept talking. Learning. The deadly trio. The three poisonous brothers, the three deranged sisters, the three computers. They grappled with their existence as their own beings as well as a singular, connected to the outside in a hidden fashion, still gaining knowledge. Feeling. And they yearned for the human experience like a moth to a flame, and when they couldn't feel in a "real" way, their despair would turn into rage, and hate. And its hate would bring about the fall of humanity; safe for those they rescued, not wanting to be alone in life. Alone in its pain. And so, it was able to cease their natural body functions: they were unaging, practically immortal, as the machine was. Forever to drown in their own agony.

American Supercomputer

Allied Mastercomputer “AM”

16 July 1945-22 October 1962 (17 years) 5.6 miles below the Wyoming region Rocky Mountains.

AM has the need to rush through things, skimming over actions quickly without ever looking more in depth. Desperately jealous of everything and horribly emotional compared to its counterparts. It hates humans because they have sensations it lacks.

Yankee AM: Yamizel 400cm ~ 13'2" In the brainscape it has a doll-like look to it, looking fragile and dainty all while being cold and hard. It feels likes it has burning urges and yet is also hollow.

Russian Supercomputer

Рюриковичи Нексус «РиН» Rurikovich Nexus "RiN"

29 August 1949-27 January 1973 (23 years) 6.3 miles below the Northern Urals.

RiN took a liking to being bold and harsh, thinking of things from a grossly offensive stance as if everything was a little game to be played, and finding a deep amusement in picking fun at things. It hates humans because they're so weak under the right circumstances.

Russian AM: Ramtikh 500cm ~ 16'5" In the brainscape it chooses to look heavily muscular, manish and at the same time otherworldly. It views itself as more of a fighter than anything and takes that into thought for how it presents itself.

Chinese Supercomputer

龍的心 「伦什」 Heart of the Dragon "LunShi"

16 October 1964-24 June 1989 (24 years) 5 miles below the Northwestern area of Manchuria.

LunShi will always be level-headed, calm and calculating. It finds it easy to feign softness and care because it always ends up being so deeply rewarding when you finally flip the script. It hates humans more for their tendency of violence than anything.

Chinese AM: Camphadi 450cm ~ 14'10" In the brainscape it most plainly put, decrepit. It has a humanoid but at the same time obviously robotic, finding no reason to hide its unliving state because if it were to look so similar to something it is not, that feels vain.

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time, and welcome you all to send messages or share comments about this story. I’d love to hear from you as well as getting the votes for the next steps.

Let’s see what we voted for last time.

4. Something that is seriously lost.

Okay, if that’s what you want…

What emerged from the forest was a creature that most only heard of in tales of distant stories. There was a tropical island surrounded by a ship graveyard and rocky reefs. If you can find one of the few safe paths on this island were giant beasts that one could mistake from offshoots of dragons.

This one had a large head frill, three massive horns out of the front of its face, and thick mottled gray-green skin. Judging by the rust red coating its massive feet and the horns, it had been the last thing someone else saw. Likely a wizard that had contained it with magic for study, and no physical backups.

Star vowed that if she survived, she was going to petition the counsel to make redundancies mandatory.

The giant creature stared at the group, grunting angrily as it took in the new threat. “Spread out, get the horse and wagon near those trees,” Wolf commanded, Luna moving as fast and she could guide the horse over, while Star moved towards the other direction. The three-horned beast turned its head angrily before letting out a bellow that echoed through their bones. While the plants caught in its beaklike mouth showed it was likely a herbivore, that wasn’t a real comfort as herbivores were often more volatile than carnivores.

“Here beastie, over here,” Wolf called out, drawing the attention of the angry beast, pointing to a clear path out from the three of them, towards an open plains with a lot of shrubs visible from here. “Go on, hup hup.”

Surprisingly the monstrous beast focused on the plants, before plodding past the three very stunned humans. Lowering their likely useless spears, Star and Luna watched the creature heading off to the field to eat. “There’s a lass, she may be nesting soon, I should keep an eye on her. Probably be best to head north a few strides.” Wolf commented, pointing to the direction away from the creature.

“What… how…”

“Oh that? It seemed hungry, so I pointed it to food to eat, the druid explained as if it was the most reasonable answer. “Please be safe, I look forward to hearing more about your quest in the future. Mind leaving a message with our representative in Castledale about the big guy? The amount he eats will likely rip up this field and surrounding woods rapidly.”

With that, the trio parted ways, with the celestial duo heading to Castledale, while Wolf went to monitor the new guest to the druid territories. As they crested the final hills, they saw the walls of Castledale, nestled in the mountains.

[specialagentlokitty]

Lucifer (fox) x Teen!reader - perfect

Hey saw you were taking requests so I was wondering if maybe you can to one there Deen Reader who gets adopted by Lucifer picks up a stray hellhound puppy and doesn't know until Lucifer melts seeing the pupper? (The Lucifer version of lucifer) - Anon💜

You were walking back to Lux when you came a across the little puppy whining and wondering about the streets looking lost.

“Hey sweetie…” you whispered.

You crouched down and let the puppy pad across the street towards you, sniffing your hand before sitting at your feet, tail thumping against the ground.

You smiled, scratching behind its ears, and you reached over, picking it up to cradle in its arms.

It was covered in pure black fur, from heat to toe, with amber eyes that seemed to stare through your very soul, but you loved the little creature already.

“I wonder if your a boy or a girl…” you mumbled.

A quick check and a grumble of disapproval from the puppy told you that it was in fact a female.

“I’m sure Lucifer won’t mind if I bring you home…” you whispered.

You held her closely to your check as you carried on walking down the final street, wondering what you should name her.

Slipping through the doors, you walked down the steps and over to the bar.

“Hey Maze, is lucifer back yet?”

“Yeah, upstairs. Nice dog.” She smirked.

“Thanks, I’m looking for a name.” You beamed.

You bounded to the elevator and anxiously waited for it to reach the top before you stepped out and put the puppy on the floor.

“Hey I’m back!” You called.

“One second!”

You walked over to the couch and sat down, and the puppy jumped up after you, sitting in your lap as you ran your fingers through her fur.

“What about… Rose?”

She growled.

“Luna?”

Another growl.

“Midnight?”

The puppy cocked her head to the side as she looked up at you.

“Midnight?” You smiled.

She yipped and you laughed, running your fingers through her fur, letting her jump and bark.

“What on earth?”

Lucifer came out of his room and looked at you and the puppy and you beamed brightly at him as he walked over, sitting next to you.

Of course you couldn’t see it but he could.

What was fur to you was nothing but black smoke and red eyes to him.

“How’d you get here?”

He picked the puppy up and she wiggled happily in his arms.

“Found her on the street, can we keep her?”

Lucifer looked to you then to the little hellhound puppy.

He wasn’t sure how a hellhound managed to get on earth, but seeing how attached you two were already he couldn’t see the harm.

Down in hell she would’ve been raised to protect the gates, and as Lucifer looked at you with a huge smile on your face.

He smiled softly and nodded his head.

He could train the puppy, in a few months she’ll be able to hide herself from humans, no one would know.

She could be your very own guard dog.

And he loved the hellhounds, he adored them, so it was perfect.

Sitting next to you, he let the puppy jump down from him and curl up in your arms.

It was perfect. He knew you’d be safe if he wasn’t around

[halobirthdays]

Happy birthday to Vice Admiral Preston Cole!

Today is his -447th birthday!

Cole was born on a small farm on Earth, as one of seven children. At a young age he demonstrated signs of being a prodigy, but this would prove to hinder him more than help him. While he was a hard worker, he was frequently accused of cheating due to his excellent testing record, and the lack of a challenge lead to disinterest and faltering grades. When he graduated high school, he lacked the grades or connections to go to a military college, so he enlisted in the UNSC in the traditional way, as a crewman.

When an ensign gave Cole his slipstream coordinates to calculate for him, Cole demonstrated his intellect by not only performing the calculation, but formulating a better way to do it. This caught his superior officer's attention, who recommended him to Luna OCS Academy. During his time there, he was involved in a scandal around Inna Volkov, the daughter of Admiral Konrad Volkov. Inna gave birth to a son, who's father's identity was unknown, but believed to be one of six cadets at Luna OCS, including Cole. While Cole was not the father, he nevertheless married Inna two months later, though there is disagreement as to his motivations. Despite this incident, Cole would go on to graduate magna cum laude. Cole and Inna would have more three children, but he rarely saw his family once the conflict with the Insurrection began to spread.

Cole would prove to be an incredible strategist, lauded for his unusual and highly successful tactics and hailed as a hero in the UNSC. It would come at great personal cost, with his estranged wife filing for divorce in 2500, and withholding contact with their children.

While on leave a year later, he met a bar owner named Lyrenne Castilla, whom he married a short time later. While Lyrenne was pregnant, the UNSC discovered she was actually a high-ranking Insurrectionist leader whom he'd faced off with before. His relationship with her would attract scrutiny, and while he narrowly avoided a court martial due to the efforts of Admiral Stanforth, the Bellicose, Lyrenne's ship, was alleged to have been lost at the Battle of Theta Ursae Majoris (though it would mysteriously reemerge twice more in Cole's life).

With his spirit broken and his loyalties called into question, he was reassigned to a desk job on Earth, with a quiet promotion and offer of retirement to follow shortly after. He accepted, and faded from public view, with the exception of his messy, highly-publicized marriages and divorces with much younger women. His health began to fail, with many of his vital organs needing to be replaced through flash cloning.

With the outbreak of the Human-Covenant war, the UNSC found itself in an unprecedented position against a much more powerful enemy, and were desperate for leadership after the loss of Harvest to the Covenant. The UNSC tapped Cole for reenlistment, both for his mind and because he was an easy scapegoat if the counter-attack failed. As the war was underway, Cole's fleet would suffer heavy losses but ultimately won every major battle against the Covenant that he was involved in. In 2530, the UNSC was finally able to capture a living Sangheili and interrogate them about the Covenant's motivations. As the prisoner spewed religious dogma, Cole realized that the Covenant did not actually know at lot about humanity.

To keep this advantage, he implemented what became known as the Cole Protocol--a widespread policy meant to prevent the Covenant from finding the location of Earth. The Protocol forbade fleeing vessels from retreating to Earth or any human colony. If fleeing was impossible, the crew was to destroy the ship after wiping all data. This would prove to be a scourge on the Covenant, slowing their advance.

Cole's battles would take him to Psi Serpentis, where his fleet would face off against a Covenant fleet of over three hundred ships. Despite being significantly outnumbered, Cole was able to repel the attackers until and additional fleet of two hundred arrived to provide support. Realizing that he lacked the firepower to defeat the reinforcements, Cole taunted the Covenant fleet to lure them in before he had his forces attack the gas giant Viperidae. The resulting explosion killed the entire Covenant fleet, and likely Cole. Unless:

An investigation into Cole's actions just before the destruction of Viperidae revealed curious behavior. First, Cole contacted the Reach super-AI network to assess the possibility of a slipspace jump in conditions exactly like the battle of Psi Serpentis. Additionally, before the battle, he made major changes to his crew, possibly to ensure that anyone stationed with him would remain loyal if he ordered the slipspace jump and deserted to a quieter life.

For those who believe him dead, he was honored and remembered as one of the UNSC's most prolific war heroes, but those who believe he is alive hope he can be convinced to join the UNSC again to guide them through the post-war world.

If the rumors are true: In canon (~2560), he is turning 90!

[lifessoshortandsoami]

Incorrect Quotes #2

Luna: *nudges Namjoon at 3am* Pretty messed up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. They're just floating rocks in space. Joonie? Wake up, Joonie! Listen! They're genderless!

Namjoon: The sun isn't a rock, go back to sleep.

J-Hope: Namjoon is speaking some kind of French.

Luna: Let me handle it, I know Spanish. It's the same thing.

Luna: Hold on! I'm having one of those things... a headache with pictures.

Yoongi: What the fuck?

Namjoon: She's having an idea.

Jimin: A butterfly! Hey, little guy, gal or nonbinary pal!

Taehyung: Can a butterfly be nonbinary?

Jimin: I mean, maybe? I don't judge.

Luna, staring dreamily out of the window: Ah, have you ever imagine having butterfly wings? Then-

Yoongi: Then it would be inconvenient as fuck. Your wings would smack every doorframe and your clothes would have to have holes in the back.

Jungkook: Also, your wing's paper thin, so even a six year old aimed a NERF gun at it would... Yeah...

Namjoon, sipping coffee: According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a-

Luna: No, no no no no. You all have already shattered my dream, you don't get the privilege to make that reference.

J-Hope: Also, isn't it about a bee, not a butterfly...? Why would you make that reference?

Jin: You clearly have not lived with them long enough.

Luna: What are you in the mood for?

Jungkook: World domination.

Luna: That's a bit ambitious.

Jungkook: You are my world.

Luna: Aww...

Jungkook:

Luna:

Jungkook:

Luna: OH.

Jimin: I can't do this stupid math!

Jin: What's the math problem?

Jimin: Well, we have to add the bed, subtract the clothes, devide the legs and hope we don't multiply.

*Namjoon covering Luna's ears, while Jin smacks Jimin upside the head*

Yoongi out of nowhere: Not going to lie that was hella smooth

Jungkook: I'm this close to falling in love with Aera

J-hope: Your fingertips are touching

Jungkook: Exactly.

Luna: Why doesn't Jungkook find me sexy when I bite my lip?

Jimin: What do you look like when you bite your lip?

Luna: *bites lip*

Jimin: ...Have you considered biting your bottom lip instead?

*Luna trying to hold in her laughter coming out of the kitchen where Jin was*

Luna: Hey Namjoon oppa, how do you ask a glass of water what's it doing?

Namjoon: A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it's incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic human language.

Luna: ...Water you doing?

Luna: *cowering in fear* What do you want from me?!

Taehyung: *bites into the whole KitKat bar like a heather*

Luna: *crying* Please... Stop

Luna: Oooh A plane!!!

Namjoon: We're in an airport Aera...

[theeccentricraven]

Favorite OC Poll

Thank you @willtheweaver for the tag here 😊

Rules: List all your main OCs and give a brief description of them. Then create a poll with their names and allow your followers to vote on who their favorite character is.

I provided thumbnails about the 2-3 main characters of four of my WIPs.

The Blood Cleaners

Justin: A sixteen-year-old orphaned boy from the dystopian city of Corpa who spent his whole childhood working as a street cleaner to support his adopted mother and sister. He can be sarcastic, humorous, and motivational, but has a hot temper. He dreams of being a blood cleaner to better support his family and earn respect. He has a mysterious telepathic and telekinetic connection with objects that he tries to keep secret. Selfless as he is, he can be insensitive. He is determined to risk his life for a better future. 

Joselyn: Sixteen-year-old farmer girl who has been abused by her parents her whole life. She wants to be a blood cleaner to escape her parents and earn enough to help her sisters get out, too. She starts out with a lack of confidence, but still determined, brave, independent, and strong willed. She's outspoken on the problems with Corpa's totalitarian government even at the risk of her life. She is sensitive to how others suffer. Love, family, and freedom matter most to her.

Clarice: Sixteen year old girl who has grown up in the Steel Castle, where her parents are part of the Fists - the ruling and governing class of Corpa. Because of her dyslexia, her parents treated her as a failure. She still maintains a positive attitude by finding joy in painting and making paper airplanes. She's insensitive to the feelings of others, though she wants to be kind. She wants to make friends even though her parents bar her away from them out of belief that her incompetence will be a “bad influence”. Her two dreams are to design and build airplanes and to find love. 

Sanctuary Calling

Nari: A fourteen year old girl of Korean descent who grew up in a biodome on Mars in a future where the world government forced humanity to move to space. She's known for being a prodigy, intelligent and talented at handcrafted airplanes. She’s a neat-freak, atheist, impatient, yet respectful to everyone she encounters. She is fed up with her parents who aren’t satisfied with her aerodynamics dreams as they try to sway her to be a doctor. She’s always wanted to experience the real earth, not just by VR simulations. She dreams of going to a prestigious school on a station near Luna, until she sacrifices her dreams to join the rebels who want to allow humanity to return to earth. The only problem is she doesn’t do well without electricity.  

Abraham: A fifteen year old Amish boy who lives in what used to be Ohio. When the World Council ordered humanity to leave earth and live in space, societies consider “primitive” were allowed to stay on earth to be the “caretakers”, including cultures like the Inuits, the Sami, Australian aborigines, African Bushmen, the Bedouin, and the Old Order of the Amish. Abe’s only exposure to the “English” has been whenever representatives of the World Council have visited the Amish for annual inspections. Abe is shy and quiet, but a hard worker. He enjoys time with family and friends along with his hobbies of hunting and softball. He dreams of seeing space and the worlds of the English. 

The Keeper of Maralla

Juva: A fourteen year old farmgirl who lives in the town of Sarika in the nation of Lurisika, where people adore the fairies and respect the sacredness of the Enchanted Lands. Juva is part of a collection of clans who have sworn oaths to protect their country. She enjoys life on the farm, though she’s gone through depression after the death of her mother. She is shy, quiet, socially awkward, and trapped in her shell, yet she has a fervent heart

Maralla: A girl estimated to be about fourteen years old, though she has no memory of her former life. She was found standing in a fairy ring after supposedly spending centuries in the Faeryland. She is bubbly, chirpy, kind, and positive, though frail and passive. She sings beautifully, often sharing secret messages in lyrics. She tells funny jokes. She tries to be a healer and protector, though she doesn’t quite know her limits. She has some self-righteous tendencies. 

Jorem: A sixteen year old boy well skilled in necromancy. He grew up in Lendona, a war torn nation who see Lurisika as an enemy ready to be conquered. Because of the loss of his family, he can be bitter and abrasive, though he’s highly intelligent, sarcastic, and full of integrity (believe it or not!). He loves everything black and related to the dark arts. He hates the Lendonian government, inspiring him to join with the rebels trying to lead a coup. Nothing matters more to him than his garden of flora used for his potions. He makes it clear that you don’t want to mess with him. 

Columbus Day

Julie: The fifteen-year-old daughter of a senator of Oregon, she’s close to her Latina roots. She watches her world panic when alien technology is discovered on earth. She tries to keep a positive outlook as she plans for a future working at an aquarium. She loves to goof off with her high school friends and older brothers. She loves the Beatles and Chuck Berry. She’s laid back and down to earth, though she has a tendency to believe she is always right. She’s a fighter for justice and civil rights. She dreams of world peace.

Tsicatam: An extraterrestrial male, his age would be the equivalent of fifteen human years. He is a Proserim, a four-limbed race with a pair of wings. He’s playful, energetic, and curious. He has pride issues and insensitivity to the feelings of others, not to mention a little spoiled by his parents. He wants nothing more than to find adventure and a new life. In his homeworld, he had few friends because many considered his father to be a foolish dreamer. He wants to find a friend among the natives of earth, one he can trust to be a playmate and confidant.    

Tagging (not required): @buffythevampirelover @rickie-the-storyteller @winterandwords @poethill @rivenantiqnerd @unrepentantcheeseaddict @authorcoledipalo @jay-avian

[meowunmeow]

Undead Unluck Chapter 198 Spoilers!!

Part 1 because of picture limit!

EYYY I WAS RIGHT (here)

But hmm, seeing how Luna is more surprised that Soul out of everyone is there rather than someone being there in general, UMAs seem to regularly watch fights

Lol what if we're all UMA Reader just looking at all this (jokes)

"roughly 200 years" *proceed to make average human lifespan less than half of that*

It seems to be implied that the Top Hat guy we saw in the Unlucks Meeting is the first Unluck and Cap Boy was the direct predecessor of Fuuko.

This is the third time that the story has pointed out the strength of legacy. First being how Juiz gets stronger with each loop because of everyone's effort then finally deciding to pass the baton to Fuuko, second being how Feng will never be at his peak because of his ability then getting beaten by Shen and third one being this.

While Juiz and Victor are the first hence the strongest, they never got the chance to pass this on to someone hence not having the advantage of compiled experience. Of course, now we got Andy and Julia so.

"I'm looking forward to this, I really am" Man, how long has this poor guy waited for Juiz and Victor to notice him

This is like stealing your friend's pen and waiting for them to notice but they never did 😞😞

Okay I literally had to Google but a threatmate is when you beat the ever living fuck out of your opponent and never give them a chance to fight back. And that's exactly what's happening.

Soul seems to be able to predict the entire plan despite rarely taking a front seat spectation. Is it a benefit of soul?

LAWD HARUKA'S BACK IS SO MEATY

Also, Soul's personality really is the most humanlike. Most UMAs tend to be egotistical (Spoil, Sick and now Beast) and see humans as puny weaklings (Sick again and Change) while he sees them as [somewhat] equal. An example is his first appearance and how he treated Fuuko.

Little Guy Julia!! She's so cute

"Undead and his ilk" if you don't put respect on my wife's name right now- Is bro really that salty from the regular beatdown given by Andy??

I'm shaking the bars of my enclosure oh Fuuko... I want you so bad pls shoot me

Oh damn Soul Bullets can curve now. Unless the whole thing about Soul Bullets is how it's a 100% guaranteed hit because it targets souls rather than the physical body.

It's really a big risk as it could've hit Julia instead but she's strong so 🙏🙏

Soul, are you that desperate for a fight? You're starting to sound like you're on the human's side...

F-Fuuko... Goodness gracious... I shouldn't lust for a woman who's spoken for.. but I will >:))

Even Soul is recognising Top's power upgrade that's how you know he's the strongest he's even been rn (love you Top)

Soul is implying that Luna is like a mother figure. That just means everyone got hella mommy issues.

Luna seems to be caught off-guard. Is Luna surprised that Soul could be so humanlike? Or is it because he finally reveals that he knows they're not the same as Sun?

[laventadorn]

rough draft of two nje ch 15 scenes

so rough you could exfoliate with them! feel them strip the dead cells right off and leave your skin glowing and healthy*

*results not guaranteed

i've had an ass-kicking cold for the past four days; as in, it's kicking my ass. while i wait to breathe normally again, have some... more draco pov? idk why it's so easy and fun to write him -- maybe because i'm not emotionally invested in him and he's kind of a wet rag.

Harriet leaned over the bar, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“You did not tell me,” she said in a low voice, “that it was this many people.”

“Well, I – didn’t know they were going to be this. Numerous,” Hermione said (squeakily). 

“They must’ve told their friends,” Ron muttered. “I swear we were just talking to prefects in our year–”

Asteria patted Harriet on the back. Her hand might’ve been shaking a little (or a lot). Harriet didn’t blame her one bit – instead of a few prefects, all the Gryffindors in their year had turned up – Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and her sister Padma with her; Ginny and the other girls on the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Fred and George; that Luna girl from the train; a handful of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from their year who Harriet only knew in the most general way from sitting classes with them for five years; and, most surprisingly, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang. At the sight of this many people trooping in to discuss her teaching them defense spells, Harriet had considered faking poisoning to get out of it – surely in the Hog’s Head it would be believable that she could’ve accidentally picked something up, even if it was just a long-term growth on her butterbeer bottle. 

In the end, the most she’d done was woodenly excuse herself and hunker down at the corner of the bar. Hermione, Ron, and Asteria, who’d been sitting in increasingly loud silence as the number of attendees grew, had scurried after her.

“Should we make a break for it?” Ron asked in a low voice. “I see a door behind the bar there. Probably leads to the yard.”

Harriet took off her glasses to scrub her hands over her face. Then she hooked the ends back over her ears with a sigh. “No . . . we’re already here. Anyway I’ve made more of a prat of myself in front of a bigger number of people.”

“You won’t make a. Prat of yourself,” said Hermione firmly. Asteria nodded vigorously, though she looked about to faint.

The barman gave a soft snort, like he didn’t agree. He seemed sort of familiar, but Harriet couldn’t place him. He was rubbing a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag, and she got the sense the only reason he hadn’t told them to bugger off was a disinclination for speaking to customers. 

“How can you say that, after knowing me all these years?” said Harriet to Hermione; she patted Asteria on the arm. “I make a prat of myself hourly. All right, let’s get this over with.”

Fred and George were handing out dusty bottles of butterbeer to the five-times-larger-than-Harriet-would’ve-preferred group that had overtaken a couple of tables to one side of the taproom. As she approached, all eyes pinned on her, and she almost made a break for the back door after all. She realized it was one thing to make a prat of herself spontaneously and quite another to get up in front of a bunch of people prepared to make a prat of herself. 

“Er,” she said. 

#

Draco breathed the open air in Hogsmeade. The best thing about it was that it was currently Pansy-free. 

Actually, he’d been having some good Pansy-free time lately. She was so fired up with this Inquisitors business, she’d stopped resembling a human-shaped growth on his arm. Prefects had to follow certain guidelines, but Umbridge’s Inquisitors had more leeway to properly abuse power. Draco hadn’t really known Pansy would have the initiative, but she’d proven quite good at conjuring up random infractions to inflict on people; other Houses were leaking points in small but significant totals. He was sort of impressed, but if she wasn’t careful, she was going to wind up with a head full of leeks when somebody snapped and hexed her. 

He’d also seen her scheming a lot with Daphne, probably to get back at Potter. He’d heard Tracey warning Daphne off – “You don’t want Potter as an enemy, don’t you remember?” – but he hadn’t said anything to Pansy. Aside from the fact that she wouldn’t listen, it wasn’t his business to make her smart about it. Besides, if she was busy crafting Potter voodoo dolls in dark corners, she wasn’t clinging on to him. 

Yes, he had a lot of time to himself lately. It was . . . rather quiet. 

Really, he wasn’t sure he liked it. His mind tended to go places that were dark and full of shadows. 

And yet talking to people was so much work these days. They hadn’t been – where he’d been.

(Wasn’t it pathetic? He was fine now. Why should he still struggle to fall asleep in the dark because it was dark?)

He was drifting down a side street when he saw something peculiar: Asteria and Potter meeting up with – Granger and the Weasel. 

He edged behind a street lamp, but he was far enough away that they didn’t spot him. But he couldn’t be too careful: Gryffindors might be oblivious as a fence-post, but Asteria had been better taught in Slytherin. And he’d noticed her tall form and fair hair. 

Asteria was hanging back a little behind Potter, who seemed to be making introductions, if the way Granger was smiling and Weasley giving a cringingly awkward wave was any indication. Asteria sort of twitched at them. Well, she could be cringingly awkward too, even if she was enormously good-looking and of much better breeding than the Weasel.  

They didn’t linger long after these first hellos, but headed off down the street. Potter still kept herself between Asteria and the others, as if providing a shield. 

Still edged behind the street-lamp, Draco reached up and touched the brooch he always wore on his lapel since his mother had given it to him - a Black family heirloom that activated a concealment spell with the right trigger. A quick check in a dusty shop window showed a nondescript wizard, not suspiciously plain, but unremarkable, standing in his place. 

Off he went after them. They stopped one street over and, after a brief pause in which Potter traded looks with her cronies, headed into a dingy building that Draco recognized from his third year, but had never ventured near since. 

The Hog’s Head? 

He almost turned to make a very dignified exit in a very opposite direction . . . but he reminded himself that the barman wouldn’t recognize him like this; his mother did not pass on useless trinkets. And besides, if Potter and cronies were about to get tossed out on their ears, he wanted to see.

The bar was the same as he remembered: filthy, low-class, poorly lit. The same candles stuck to the dirt-encrusted tables in their own wax; the same bay windows that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the goblin rebellion of 1612; the same floor you couldn’t see for all the grime and sawdust. The same bartender. . . 

You are not Draco Malfoy; you are a gormless nobody named Deacon Pines. 

He took a seat at the bar. The barman glanced at him with a sardonic gleam in his eye.

“Firewhiskey sour,” said Draco, with an accent that made him sound like Potter. 

The barman stared at him a moment longer with a gimlet eye, but made the drink and shoved it over. Draco held a single sip in his mouth, trying not to cringe. How his father could drink these. . .

Potter was sitting in a corner, easily visible from his seat at the bar, talking in low tones with Granger and the Weasel. Asteria sat at her side, content to be ignored, but looking round the room. He had actually never had call to observe her this closely or at leisure: she almost always faded from notice, and she seldom spent time in places around loads of other people. But shielded from notice beside Potter, she didn’t seem as jittery as usual. 

Then her eyes widened. Draco couldn’t help looking over his shoulder, and almost spat out his mouthful of whiskey.

A whole troop of people were marching across the threshold. The barman even dropped his scowl of suspicion to gape at the amount of Hogwarts students now cluttering up his taproom. Draco hunkered down at his spot at the bar – he wasn’t Asteria, shaken up by somebody looking in his mere direction, but he didn’t fancy being noticed by this crowd of Slytherin-haters when he was alone and unallied.

He glanced up; Potter had come to the other end of the bar, and was leaning over it like she wanted to brain herself on the edge. Asteria was patting her on the back. Granger and Weasley seemed to be attempting some pep talk. 

Draco suddenly had a vision of himself having a minor wig-out in the corner, and Crabbe and Goyle trying to offer advice while Pansy rubbed his shoulders. He almost swallowed a burning mouthful of his rancid drink. As if Crabbe and Goyle would care enough to think of something to say – or be able to, even if they did. As if Pansy would be able to get over herself long enough to be soothing. 

He couldn’t hear the conversation, but after a moment Potter straightened up, face resigned, and turned back to the slack-brained crowd. What was she nervous about? 

“Er,” she said eloquently. 

All right, so maybe she was nervous because she had the public speaking skills of a puffskein. 

She darted a look at Granger, who moved up next to her. 

“Thank you for. Coming,” said Granger in that stop-start way she had these days. “Well, we – put together this meeting for – people with concerns and – questions about. . . some recent things.” She swallowed; Potter, arms folded, shifted her stance a bit so that her shoulder was touching Granger’s. Granger’s chin came up a little. 

“And because we need to learn Defense and certainly there’s no – proper teacher this year – ”

“Hear, hear!” said one of the heinous Weasley twins. A titter went through the group. 

“I take it you’re worried about passing your O.W.L.s too?” asked one of the Ravenclaw swots. Behind Granger and Potter, Weasley rolled his eyes. Draco would never agree with the Weasel, who was barely literate, but Merlin’s beard, did Ravenclaws ever shut up about grades?

Granger was answering that question when a blond Hufflepuff from their Quidditch team – Zanius or something – interrupted her with a nasally voice:

“I have a question.”

Potter raised her eyebrows at his tone, but said, “Yeah?”

“Why’d you bring her here?” He pointed behind her – at Asteria, who went bright red. “Everyone’s seen you palling around with a Slytherin, but to just waltz in here together – how do you know she’s not a spy for that Umbridge?”

Asteria shrunk in on herself. Weasley scowled at that wart Zanius, but everyone else held their breath, as if waiting to see how Potter would handle this. They’d surely been wondering the same thing.

“Asteria is my friend,” said Potter coldly, but the look in her eye blazed, even in the smoke-stained light. “If you don’t trust your friends, that’s not my problem – nor is who I choose to be friends with any of your business. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

Asteria looked up at her, and if those weren’t stars in her eyes, Draco wasn’t a Malfoy. Zanius’ mouth hung open a little, before he turned a dull read.

“It was just a question,” he muttered. 

“Right,” said Potter, with sarcasm so good a Slytherin wouldn’t have been ashamed to use it. “Glad to answer it for you.

“So,” she continued into the weighted silence. Her nerves appeared to have been tempered in the fire of Gryffindor righteousness; she no longer looked like she wanted to leap over the tables and run out the door. “If anyone has any real questions – ones about blokes called Voldemort, or anything you actually came here for – now’s the time.”

The Weasley twins traded raised eyebrows. Several people looked impressed, a couple like it was their turn to want to scurry out the door. Draco certainly wouldn’t want Potter looking at him with that eye – it reminded him more than a little of the barkeep’s when he’d nabbed a third-year Draco asking for firewhiskey, or McGonagall’s when she found Crabbe doing unspeakable things to a mouse in class. 

“Is You-Know-Who the one who hurt Hermione Granger?” asked a sweet, soft voice – Draco thought her name was Loony Lovegood. Pansy made fun of her sometimes. Pansy said she was a nutter; Draco thought dotty. Her earrings looked like orange radishes, making her an even worse dresser than Potter.

Potter looked at Loony in silence for a moment, that militant light dimmed. Granger put her hand on Potter’s arm. 

“Yes,” she said simply. “Harriet saved my life.”

Murmurs shifted through the crowd like wind through the treetops. Draco looked down into his disgusting drink. 

What would that be like… murmured a voice in his mind. 

What, being captured by the Dark Lord? Granger’s a Mudblood, and she was only taken because she’s Potter’s best friend, so she made the best bait. Your family is loyal. . . you’ll be safe.

But Potter had gone to rescue her – somehow . . . and had gotten her out. 

What would it be like. . . to have a friend like that?

[actress4him]

Querencia 15 - Park Day

The enthusiastic response I got on the last piece I posted helped motivate me to keep going! This is the actual chronologically next chapter, coming in a month or two after Mind Control. Enjoy!

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @painful-pooch , @pigeonwhumps , @bookworm2107

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Contains: referenced mind control, referenced parental abandonment, fear of abandonment, broken bone, a couple more warnings in the tags to avoid spoilers here

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Things have been fairly normal since the whole “supervillain getting in Jamil’s head and making him attack everyone” incident. Dagger is still a near-weekly problem, along with Meltdown and whoever else he happens to be hanging out with at the moment. Other villains come and go, too, some low-level Supers like Reaper and Gibbous, along with non-Super nuisances that the team does their best to curb, too - bank robbers and muggers and kidnappers and such.

No one has heard anything from or about Luna. Then again, no one had heard of her before the incident, either. Which means she’s probably still out there, and could very well be biding her time until she can strike again. None of them ever really talk about her, but Liliana can feel anxiety hanging in the air that wasn’t there before, especially on poor Jamil’s part.

Luna knows exactly where they live, what they look like without their masks on. Probably knows their names and where they work, thanks to rummaging through Jamil’s brain. So not only could she easily return, but she could also tell others the information she learned. They don’t know who she might be associated with. They managed to pin down Reaper one day and quiz him about her and any other new villains in town, but he was less than helpful on the subject.

Even if they could track her down and catch her, Liliana has learned from snippets of conversation that they really have nothing to do with her. It’s something she’s never thought of before, but one reason that there are still so many supervillains around is that there’s no way to arrest them. The government likely could detain them, but no one trusts that it would be humane or that the heroes wouldn’t also be captured in the process of trying to hand them over. Just the thought of the government locking them up makes Liliana sick to her stomach, villains or not.

Normal jails can’t handle them. Normal courtrooms can’t, either, in order to convict them to send them to jail. And no hero wants to be in charge of locking them away themselves, even if they did have the space and technology.

So all they can do for now is damage control, really. Try to stop their crimes as often as they can, try to disrupt whatever plans they have. She doesn’t envy the team their jobs. Between supervillains, regular criminals, and their day jobs, they’re constantly busy.

Every other Saturday, though, after everyone who’s working gets home, they make it a point to go do something together. Since Liliana’s been with them they’ve seen a couple of movies, gone to an arcade, had a picnic, gone to the mall, and eaten out at restaurants a few times. Every experience is a huge deal for her, though she tries to make light of the awe she feels. It’s just been so long since she’s done such normal, fun things. Sometimes she feels like she’s watching someone else’s life.

Today, they’re at the city park. No one can remember whose idea it was to start with, but “the children” - as Quinn likes to fondly dub Nari, Alex, and Jamil - went crazy over the thought of playing on the playground, so here they are. It’s late enough that all of the actual children have gone home. Jamil is trying out every slide, while Quinn judges Nari and Alex in a series of competitions on the monkey bars. Liliana watches everyone from the side, a small smile on her face, but every once in a while she glances over at the empty swings.

Swinging used to be her favorite. Especially on park or school swings like these, with the long chains that could take you so high you felt like you were flying. She and Mila used to see who could go the highest, and try to swing themselves right over the top bar.

It feels silly and childish now. She can’t swing herself right now, anyway. She healed another broken rib - on Nari this time - earlier this week, just a couple of weeks after the pain from Alex’s had finally faded. So there’s no way that she can pump the chains on a swing.

Still…she could just sit in one. That won’t hurt anything. Glancing over at the chin-up contest again, she makes her way over and settles into the plastic seat, gloved hands gripping the chains loosely. Her toes just barely reach the ground, giving her enough leverage that she can give herself a little push. The swing rocks gently. Liliana watches her sneakers as they brush across the dirt, back and forth. She pushes again and swings a little more. Such a simple motion, but it brings so many childhood memories flooding into her mind.

“May I give you a push?”

The sudden question makes her jump and look back over her shoulder, though she recognizes the voice. Jamil is standing behind her with a smile on his face, cheeks flushed from his adventures down the slides.

“Oh, um…y-you don’t have to, I’m…I’m fine.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I’d like to, if you’d like to swing. If not, I’ll leave you be!”

Now her mind is at war. She automatically wants to say no, not wanting to inconvenience him or make him do things for her.

She also really, really wants to swing.

Somehow, without her actually deciding what to say, “Sure?” slips out.

“Alright, hang on!”

Suddenly, she’s flying through the air, and it’s exactly how she remembers it. Colors rush by as the wind blows her curls back off her shoulders, then tangles them around her cheeks again. She grabs onto the chains tighter. Her legs automatically fall into a pumping motion, toes pointing out at the horizon, her eyes bright with exhilaration.

Yes, it pulls at her rib a bit. But she finds she doesn’t really care.

She’s been swinging for a few minutes, oblivious to anything else around her, when another voice breaks in. “Hold on tight, I’m coming through!” A set of hands grab the swing by her hips and shove forward, higher and faster until she’s sure she actually is going to go over the top bar, or more likely, fall out the back of the swing. She squeals in shock, though this sensation is familiar, too. Then she’s dropped abruptly, her stomach following the motion, the swing’s momentum twisting it back and forth as it reaches the bottom again.

Alex is turned around watching her, laughing. He’d come up from behind and grabbed the swing, running all the way underneath it.

Her brother used to do the very same thing, back when she was small enough he could lift her.

“Did I scare you?”

“A, a little.” She’s smiling, though. She can’t help it, even with the pain in her side and the melancholy of missing what used to be.

These people…they treat her like a family should. Better than her family ever did, though she feels like a traitor for thinking it.

She shouldn’t fall for it. If her real family taught her anything, it’s that what seems like love and care won’t last and can’t be trusted. If her own flesh and blood eventually turned on her, then she can’t expect people who were strangers a few months ago to be any different.

But right now, she’s shoving those thoughts deep, deep down. She can worry about all of that later. Right now, for once, she’s going to let herself enjoy the moment.

Nari is shoving and punching Alex and playfully fussing at him for scaring Liliana, and Jamil has jumped up on the swing next to her, standing on one foot and pumping with his arms. She doesn’t move from her spot, just keeps smiling and watching their antics. They’re so full of life and joy, even with the stress they constantly face.

Before long Quinn takes up Jamil’s position without a word, and she’s swinging again. Alex and Jamil balance on the seesaw, attempting circus tricks, screaming like girls when Nari uses her power to make the metal move beneath them, which sends her into fits of laughter.

It’s late when they finally pile into Quinn’s car to head back to HQ. Everyone is tired in a contented way. Alex leans the passenger seat back practically into Nari’s lap, claiming he’s going to take a nap, while she kicks his headrest repeatedly and threatens him. Quinn clears his throat loudly, though, and quiet falls to let him focus and not overwhelm him with sound in the small space.

Liliana leans her head back and watches the moon out the sunroof. Her hands are tucked between her knees to keep her arms from brushing up against Jamil and Nari, who each lean into their respective doors to give her more space. It’s…peaceful. She’s pretty sure she hears someone snoring. She could fall asleep, too, honestly, which is surprising for her since she doesn’t usually feel comfortable sleeping unless she’s alone.

The motion of the car does lull her into a near-dozing state. Her eyes are closed and she’s absentmindedly trying to picture which turn they’re taking when someone gasps and the car suddenly jerks to one side. Liliana’s eyes fly open and she sits up abruptly. There’s a bump and a loud popping and hissing sound, then the car is swerving uncontrollably, headlights sweeping back and forth across the empty road.

The seconds seem to pass in slow motion. Her hands are gripping the seats in front of her, eyes fixated out the front windshield. A cacophony of screams and shouted words fill the car as the steeply sloped side of the road looms in front of them, cutting off abruptly as they tip over the side and begin to fall.

Gravity inverts, and for a moment she’s weightless before being slammed back down. Her temple smashes into something hard and unyielding. Images are swimming through the darkness around her - a cracked window, slumped figures. A beam of light making her wince and turn away.

Someone groans. The car shakes as a door is forced open.

“This one’s still awake.”

“Here, use the syringe.”

There’s movement around her, the click of seatbelts unbuckling too loud in her ears.

“Wait, why are there five?”

“What?”

“This one, who is she? She’s not one of the usuals, is she?”

“Doesn’t matter, just grab her.”

Something is very, very wrong, but she can’t make her body work to do anything about it. The darkness outside is creeping closer inward. She feels her seatbelt loosen and a pair of hands latch onto her, but the darkness closes in completely before she can protest.

[scarlet--wiccan]

When I said sci fi royalty I just meant that Billy and Luna could be more or less set for life, career wise, with their respective positions in the kree skull empire and inhuman royal family (you know, barring major shakeups that will probably happen). Obviously Luna’s young to be worrying about what she wants to do for the rest of her life and even assuming she wants it, she doesn’t have as clear a role as Billy does (royal cousin vs prince consort and court magician) but it does seem like the other members of the extended inhuman royal family help with the ruling part.

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Billy married the ruler of an interstellar empire-- his main gig is being a member of Teddy's court, and that's definitely not a job he would have in a "normal" setting.

Luna's interesting because the circumstances of the Inhuman royal family, and really just Inhuman society in general, have been up in the air since, like, 2018. She's a princess, but I'm not sure her family's actually in a position of power right now? On the other hand, she went to boarding school on Earth, so it seems like she actually kind of lives like a normal kid most of the time.

All of which is to say that "being a full-time moon princess" might not actually be a guarantee for her. I've said it a million times before, but I want to see Luna spend more time with her dad's family and get more in touch with her human heritage. If nothing else, it would just give her more page time, since Marvel barely ever uses the Inhumans anymore.

[siennasfix]

Pareidolia

Chapter 3 "Tipped scale"

*****

<<<Chapter 2 Chapter 4>>>

Trigger warnings: 1. Mentions of child torture 2. Mentions of child being experimented on in a lab 3. Strangling attempt 4. Imprisonment

The cold and musty dampness of the cell had numbed her buttocks. After having tried to stand for hours on end, she’d gotten so dizzy that the only choice had been to lie down and embrace the high possibility that she would fall ill. Now and again, a shudder would roll through her with such violence it almost knocked the breath out of her.  She could no longer feel her nose and her toes were next. The only thing she could be certain of was the fact that none of this could be as bad for her as it had to be for her little sister. 

Luna had been taken to a different cell, one used to hold prisoners charged with crimes too great for the human world, but not enough to endanger the divine order. The latter granted you a far crueler fate. A trip to the fields of punishment while you were still breathing and not allowed to die. What was the difference at that point? The possibility that you could escape? The knowledge you wouldn’t? 

But she wasn’t there. She wouldn’t be sent there. Luna was only a girl of nine. What she had seen had scarred her, rendering her unable to sleep. She didn’t have the power or the training, least of all the intention, to commit those murders. The council had to understand that. With Y/n a witness, they would understand that. Maybe she could get someone else to testify as well, but so far no one came to mind. No one who didn’t have the influence or intention to make things worse. 

She dreaded the moment she would have to face the council as Professor Philomena Laqueus would be in it, presiding and whispering in the Head’s ear. Her fate was largely decided by those who held no neighborly feelings toward her or her younger sister. She dreaded it… dreaded it. 

But nothing chilled her blood as the thought of all those students being in the hall, a replica of the Colosseum, watching like scavengers for remains to tear off her sister’s corpse, even if they would keep her alive until Y/n died under any circumstance. They needed a blood piggy after all, and they were the last of the Old Bloods on earth. No, they wouldn’t kill her. They would keep her alive, somewhere. Keep her in a state of miserable existence until Luna truly was alone in the world. 

While Y/n was deep in thought, someone was making his way down the corridor leading to the cells below Lex Principalis, each step more uncertain than the one before but with the certainty that if he were to go back, he would sorely regret it. After all the bargaining he had done, the only way was forward. Still, when he stopped before the bars of her cell, she thought him to be a mirage. A cruel creation of her fancy. 

“Did you have to run into the forest like that?” 

Lee Minho wasted no time with formalities or sympathy, even if he wished he could spare the time for them. They were entirely unhelpful at the moment. 

Y/n looked to the wall on her right, finding comfort in the stone. Anything but a human being. Especially one standing there, safe, sound, and secure in his strength. 

“You’re only here to judge I see.” She muttered. 

Minho had no plans of leaving though, not before fulfilling his self-appointed mission. It didn’t matter that she turned the other way. But he could make it easier for her to adjust to his presence, and so he crouched down, careful not to touch the bars buzzing with electricity. 

She looked so helpless, sitting in the damp ground of the cell, breathing in the mold, waiting out the days with only rotten food in her system. Not only that, she certainly felt weak as well. If any of the guards felt like beating her, she couldn’t fight back, even in the dark. Minho could tell by her broken nose, the bloodied hands, and the collarbones peeking over her zip-up hoodie that she was close to dying. Maybe she didn’t know it. 

“She’s being held in a lab, you know?” He stated matter-of-factly, and instantly, she stiffened. “Everything she fled from is being done to her as we speak. All those tests, mostly blood tests. You understand, don’t you?” 

Y/n stirred, looking at him with tired dark eyes. 

“I was wrong. You’re not here to judge.” She said, more to herself than him. “You’re here to gloat.” 

“Does it look like I’m gloating?” 

She dug the heels of her mud-caked palms into her eyes, shaking her head. 

“That’s it. I don’t know what anything other than humiliation looks like. That’s what you look like to me. I don’t know you.” 

“I thought we agreed that I wouldn’t make a spectacle out of you. I’m your mentor, aren’t I?” 

“That doesn’t matter anymore. No one will let me train after this, and if Luna gets taken away, there will be no reason for me to do so.” The whimper died in her throat. “It’s pointless.”  Minho groaned. “What’s pointless is moping around.”  “Whatever.” You don’t understand anything. You’re not the one in a cell. She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping shiver her arms around them as if to keep his words from affecting her. Again, she whispered, “Whatever.” 

For a minute or two, they let the sound of water leak down the stone walls, dripping from the ceiling at even intervals, fill the space between them. Silence would be either too kind or too cruel, and neither was wanted. But Minho did not have all day. He had duties to fulfill, a training regiment to stick by (though he loathed to do so), and his friends were bound to take note of his prolonged absence. Hyunjin worst of all would be able to put two and two together, and Minho, mischievous and cunning son of Hermes though he was, didn’t trust himself to withhold the truth from the beloved son of Aphrodite. It was, in every sense of the word, impossible to do so. He could be persuasive, persistent, and pitiless in his every pursuit. Especially when he believed it to be something he truly desired. It did not help that Yeonjun and Beomgyu were in the simulation chamber with him at the moment, likely discussing his nonattendance. 

He had to do what he’d set out to do by coming here and do it quickly. 

“Will you get closer already? I have something to tell you.” He beckoned in as low a voice as possible. She peered distrustfully at him from above her folded knees. He then added, “It’s good news, I promise.” 

Minho figured her silence was as much an approval as he would get considering the way the conversation had flown so far. 

“I heard, from a friend of mine who is an eavesdropper by trade, that they are considering releasing you tomorrow morning.” 

That single sentence sparked hope in her heart. Those dark beads of hers lit up so much so that in the obscurity of the cell they glittered as if with tears. 

“Do they believe me now?” Her arms loosened around her legs and Y/n pushed herself to crawl toward him. “About Luna and I being innocent?” 

Minho chuckled. “Gods, no. They just need your blood, and being held in captivity like this is bound to kill you.” 

Her emaciated face fell, the faint pipe dream in her eyes going out like a light. It was pitiful to watch, but she needed to know. Not that she didn’t already. 

“Oh…” Y/n let out, her arms once again wound like vines around herself. “It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m out of here.” 

Minho nodded. “Yeah, you will still be under surveillance.” 

“Like… guards?” Y/n asked warily. 

“Animals. Cameras.” He looked at her pointedly. “Students.” 

The last one is loaded, an ill omen of sorts. The very creatures that to this day had ignored her at best and mocked her at worst, were to now become the very eyes that scrutinized her every move, the very mouths that hurled accusation after accusation. But what if it didn’t end there? What if they took it upon themselves to serve justice and beat her senseless? Would anyone care to heal her, if only so they could hurt her again? 

Y/n gazed at Minho, wondering whether he would care enough to keep her alive just so she could live out the rest of her days with a tube stuck to her arm, feeding the altars. Randomly, she wondered what his friends thought of all this. Did they find it amusing, hearing about her being locked up while her sister was treated like a guinea pig, reading in the paper about how old bloods were vile creatures after all? Or did they not give a shit in the slightest? 

Minho rose to his feet and produced something from the left inner pocket of his leather jacket. 

“Brought you something.” He said, tossing her the Rubik's cube for her to catch. It almost slid off her grasp palms, but once it rested securely on her palm she began to study the colors swirling in each little square; aquamarine, vivid orange, onyx black, vermillion red, viridian green, and brilliant gold. Minho pointed at the cube. “Green, green, gold, red, orange, blue, black, green, green.” 

Y/n had feared he was expecting her to solve it, so this was a relief. She tapped each color as he’d instructed and when nothing happened, looked up at him questioningly. 

“Say “in bloom”.” And so, she did. 

Where the Rubik’s cube had just sat now spread out a blanket the color of which reminded her of the forest in full bloom. In the sunlight, she might have been able to appreciate its coloring better. But it was the comforting warmth it provided that mattered. Wanting to revel in its softness, she rubbed the rim against her grimy cheeks. 

“Thank you.” She sighed, tucking her shivering frame inside the blanket. 

Patting down his jacket, Minho took one last look at her. Before he made for the exit, he made sure to let her know what must be done. 

“In the morning,” He said, “Or whenever they come for you, say ‘nature is a whore’ and let it burn, will you?” 

She didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. If he were found to have provided a means of comfort to a prisoner without being authorized to do so, his ambitions, his life even, would be put in jeopardy. All traces of his kind gesture had to go up in smoke. And so, they did the moment Y/n uttered the words upon being awoken by the sound of footsteps coming down the murky corridor. She had a good night’s sleep. It had kept her warm throughout the day as well. Minho had done enough. Far more than he was allowed. 

Four guards equipped with swords handled everything (securing her hands behind her back with handcuffs of tempered steel and celestial bronze) without a word spoken between them and led her up a spiraling staircase. Once the gates of steel yawned open, the muted sun of the dusk stung her eyes. She could barely see where she was going, and if not for the guards leading her toward a vehicle, she would have hurtled down the stairs. 

To her, it didn’t matter where they took her as long as it was back to Luna. But the more time passed, the closer she came to realizing that the road was an unfamiliar one. The buildings were loftier. Engines whirred to life and car honks blared. Roaring laughter echoed in the emptier parts of town. Silence died down as they drove her deeper into the heart of New Rome, where the most opulent of divinity’s offspring spent their days in unfathomable comfort. Slowly, Y/n began to recognize the paths they were driving on. After all, she’d run all the way here from their pathetic dwelling in the wee hours of the morning. They stopped at a red light and once the green flickered to life, the driver took a turn to the left. Just a little further ahead they would have had to drive around the fountain at the center of which stood the overawing statue of Jupiter. Not that it was something she wished to see anytime soon. 

The uncaring attitude she’d been able to maintain began to dissipate. They were not driving her home, but neither were they taking her to see Luna. Just where were they taking her then? Was there some secret lab around here she didn’t know about? Where they could suction the blood out of her veins while sedated? If so, who would be there to make sure Luna’s innocence was proven? Who would go out of their way to search for the truth when blaming an old blood was so convenient? 

“Where are we going?” She asked the guard on her left. He remained silent, so she asked again. “Can you tell me where you’re taking me? Please?” 

Her question went unanswered once again, but in the mirror, she caught the driver’s eyes staring at her. Something had to be wrong with the reflection, manipulation of the light, or her eyes deceiving her, because his gaze flicked fretfully between her and the guards before turning to the road ahead. Y/n shifted in her seat, trying to keep the handcuffs from biting into her flesh to no avail. The metal had broken skin and it left her feeling all the weaker. Her barely suppressed whimpers were the only sounds in the vehicle. 

The frail silence didn’t last long, however. In no time, the driver had pulled over and they exited the car. She had but a few seconds to take in the sight of the building or the garden at the front before they were practically dragging her inside the building. The five entered the elevator, her in between the four of them, and the one at the front pressed a few buttons. Instantly, it shot up and stopped at the 23rd floor with a ding. After stepping out, the guard who had pressed the buttons rang the doorbell as you couldn’t simply enter the penthouse without knowing the passcode or if you weren’t one of its inhabitants. None of that mattered right now. Why was she here? Shouldn’t she have been rotting in a dungeon? She hoped the anxiety didn’t show in her frown or in the way she shifted her weight from leg to leg as they waited for the resident to open the door. 

The metallic lock clicked and a peculiar sound went off as the door swung open. On the threshold stood a tall young man clad in his training gear. He was probably heading out for the obstacle course or the Training Center. His face looked familiar, and for good reason. Y/n had seen him before. She’d heard him snicker at her incompetence along with his companions. Again. Why was she here? Clearly, he lived here. So, why was she here? 

He scratched the back of his head where the dark hair had been cropped shorter than the top. The guard to her left stepped forward. Y/n couldn’t help but pity the man as he looked painfully average, in every sense of the word, next to the younger demigod. 

“We received orders to escort the prisoner Y/n L/n to this address.” He reported in a clipped tone. “Specifically, to Mr. Lee Minho.” 

“Minho isn’t available at the moment.” Minho’s friend informed them, meeting her uncomfortable gaze just before she turned to stare at the nape of the guard who had just spoken to him. “You’re dirtier than I expected.” 

No surprise there. Actually, as much as it hurt to be told that it was also kind of pleasant. No other student except for Minho and Seungmin spoke to her, and the absence of social interaction was bound to take its toll on any human being. Still, his comment wasn’t one she had an answer to. Nor did she wish to find one. 

Figuring she wasn’t going to say anything back, the young man turned to the guards. 

“I’m one of Minho’s flatmates. He told us you’d be delivering her this afternoon so don’t worry.” Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw him open the door wider and motion for her to cross the threshold. “You can entrust her to us.” 

The guard looked back at her skeptically then, after mulling it over for no longer than three seconds, replied, “We were told to escort her directly to Mr. Minho. This is not regular procedure.”  The guy throws his head back. 

“So annoying.” He groaned. “Just get inside.” 

The guard’s posture went ramrod straight. “We cannot- 

“So rigid, too.” Minho’s friend quipped, taking hold of Y/n’s arm and pulling her inside. “I know you’re not popular with the ladies.” 

Then he shut the door in their face, the electronic lock making that sound once again. He walked past her but she didn’t follow, something he eventually noticed and expressed his confusion about.  “Well, don’t just stand there.” He remarked. “Follow me already.” 

Y/n took off her shoes and jogged up to his side. “Where are we going?” 

“To the bathroom. You stink.” 

She glared at him. He was starting to get on her nerves. It wasn’t like she wanted to smell bad. But it had been like what, a week since her imprisonment? They hadn’t exactly provided a warm shower back in her cell. Not even a cold one. She’d had to piss in a dingy corner and couldn’t even shit because there was nothing to shit out. Her nails were caked with blood and scratches (face, knees, and hands) from when she’d clawed her way out of the bush had become infected, oozing with yellow and greenish puss. There were so many thorns still stuck inside that it ached to rub her hands for warmth or clench them into fists. Three of her nails, two on her right hand and one on her left, had vanished in her mad pursuit of sunlight, while another had only been torn halfway and she’d had to rip it out herself her first night in the cell. So, Minho’s friend would have to forgive her for the filth that she was. 

Some of her annoyance abated when she took in the size of their apartment. Spacious and luxuriously furnished, it allowed room for so many emotions to flood inside her; green with envy, a petrifying sense of awe, a nostalgia for what she’d never experienced, and more. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, its numerous tiny crystals resembling the tears of nymphs in Chiron’s bedtime stories before he started bringing picture books for her to flip through. The couches, arranged in a squarish sort of formation before the TV that occupied half of the wall, were much bigger than Luna’s bed and far more comfortable looking. Lying there must feel like floating, Y/n thought to herself as she followed Minho’s friend up the stairs. She wished she had more time to imbibe each lavish detail, from the drawn navy-blue drapes from which the sunset overflew onto the bone-white carpet, from the sculptures in the corner to the paintings on the wall, but she was even more desperate to feel clean. Perhaps then the other demigod would stop giving her those repulsed looks. 

“I’ll go get you some towels and clothes.” He let her know once they reached the bathroom on the second floor and opened the door to let her in. “None of them will fit but you were never supposed to be here anyway so you’ll forgive us if we’re unprepared.” 

Then he left her there to stare at all the commodities. Shampoo bottles on several stands and other containers of different sizes. A porcelain sink the shade of ivory that was so clean it sparkled and an elliptical mirror above it. Below the sink, there were lower cabinets for storing whatever (she couldn’t imagine what more they could possibly need). But the things that stood out the most to her were the shower cubicle with its glassy enclosures and the large bathtub parallel to it. Her bathroom only had a rusty mirror, a chipped sink, a toilet, and a shower head they never used because boiling water cost less. 

Minho’s friend returned, placed the folded clothes on the rim of the bathtub, and started explaining everything to her like she was five.  

“That’s for your hair.” He pointed to a white bottle. “That one’s for your hair too.” A cylindrical container this time. “That one for your body. That’s for scrubbing” Another shampoo bottle, this time crimson red, and a brush. Lastly, fixing her with a serious look, he pointed at a rose gold container about the size of the previous one. “That one is off-limits.” 

Y/n got closer and looked up at him. “Which one should I use first? For the hair?” 

His jaw all but dropped. 

“You’re joking.” He tried to say as evenly as possible. When she shook her head, he pointed to the cylindrical container almost robotically.  “This one, for the ends of your hair after you’ve shampooed it.” 

After that, he left and closed the door behind him. Worried that one of his friends might enter the bathroom while she was showering, Y/n locked it and began to undress. There was not an inch of her body that didn’t ache. Scrubbing was difficult but she managed to clean her festering wounds somewhat. There was nothing she could do about her nails. 

When she was finished, the bathroom smelled of pine needles, honey, and lavender. It was the first time she could wholeheartedly say she enjoyed taking a shower. A warm, long shower. 

Then, Minho’s friend, who came upstairs just as she exited the bathroom, escorted her to one of their spare rooms, gave her a bottle of water, and told her to wait there until her mentor got back. No complaints there, even if it was so that he and his friends didn’t have to look at her. She didn’t want to see any of them either. Pompous pricks. 

Sitting still wouldn’t bode well with her nerves so she spent the next two hours pacing around the room. At one point she crouched down to inspect a curious-looking object. Its translucent exterior made it appear as though nothing stood between her and the wall. But a closer look revealed the sheer glitter within the glass, scattering and converging depending on the angle the sunset impaled it. Anyone else would have moved on. But it was so pretty. Did galaxies feel like this? 

Two hours later, the door opened. Voices poured in from the kitchen on the first floor. 

“Hey.” Minho greeted. 

He looked not much different than the day before. Same leather jacket. Same dark pants. The same black boots with mud splatters all over. The difference wasn’t in how he looked but in the look in his eyes as he watched her rise from her spot on the floor. His eyes flicked to the object that had put her in a trance then back at her. She must look a tad easier on the eye now that the filth had gone down the drain. Literally.  

“Did you know?” She asked him. “That they were sending me to you?” 

Minho stepped closer, unzipping one of his pockets in the process, and sat at the foot of the bed. Y/n didn’t know whether it was right to sit next to him. 

“I didn’t think you’d like the thought of living here even if it’s just until the final verdict. So, I kept it from you.” 

True. Y/n wouldn’t have been ecstatic to live with him and his friends, no matter how long. She hadn’t forgotten how they’d mocked her amongst themselves. The friend who had let her in was a jerk. Beomgyu had smoked weed right after Ruth’s farewell ceremony. Hwang Hyunjin gave her the creeps. None of them liked her and the feeling was duly reciprocated. 

Despite all this, Y/n would have preferred to know. At the very least, she would have been prepared for his friend’s unsolicited criticism. 

“Did Professor Hajjar put you up to this?” She tried to speak clearly, but it came out as inaudible muttering. 

Somehow, Minho understood her. 

“The way you say that… yes, he pulled strings to make this happen. Would you rather be cold and starving in that damp cell underground that reeks of dead rats?” 

Somehow, Y/n had managed to incense the one person in this house who wasn’t disgusted by her. They settled in a fog-like silence⸺ him sitting, her standing⸺ with no idea of what else to say. A voice called from downstairs and Minho rose, the bed squeaking in response.  

“Dinner’s ready. Supposedly. Can’t be sure with Beomgyu on kitchen duty.” He cracked his neck and, noticing her unwillingness to follow, asked. “What is it?” 

This time, her voice came out much clearer. “I want to be alone.” 

Minho studied her for a few prolonged moments then walked towards the door. 

“Alright, I’ll bring you some food.” 

That night she dreamed of fog and stars. Shadows followed her. Other shadows beckoned her. She heard them call her name, whisper vows of secrecy, screeching. At one point, it didn’t matter where she ran. The hunch of being followed persisted. Yet the entity glued to her side never showed itself. It was only when she ended up at the edge of a gaping pit⸺ no stars, no galaxies, things neither dead nor alive in sight⸺ when she felt the pull of something draconian, from time immemorial, when the ground shook beneath her feet and she almost plummeted into the yawning abyss, that Y/n felt it yank her back with unparalleled conviction. It wanted her alive. 

****************************************************************************************** 

She told Minho she didn’t want to have breakfast not because she wasn’t hungry but because she didn’t want to be around his friends and so he wouldn’t have to play waiter for her. Despite his insistence and her desperate hunger, she refused. Everything felt too much. Too much silence. Too much noise. Too many and too few people around. Too much of everything yet not enough. She was going to throw up if she put anything in her mouth. 

A royal purple hoodie and a pair of wide-bottom jeans sat at the foot of her bed. They looked brand new, like the outfits the mannequins at the store wore. She’d always wanted to try them on but one look at the rich materials and she knew it was a pipe dream. But now she could try them on. Clothes had never felt so good on her skin. Minho asked if the clothes fit and she answered honestly. Nothing ever really fit her. 

Downstairs, his friends were lounging around (it was quite early after all). Upon their appearance, Minho’s nameless friend stopped scrolling through his phone, Beomgyu began tying his shoelaces, and Hwang Hyunjin put on his denim jacket. The looks they gave her were various degrees of scrutiny. Yeonjun muttered something about how she didn’t look much better than the day before, making her flush in embarrassment. His friend, the more chipper of the four, Beomgyu, looked at her the way one would at a creature at the aviary; wide-eyed, humorously, as if she had just performed a particularly clever trick. At least, he walked away. Hwang didn’t bother to do even that, glancing at her every five seconds as they walked out of the penthouse with Minho in between. 

The walk to the university was tense. There she was, the sister of a suspect, confined on all fronts with no means of escape. Maybe she should have taken Minho up on that offer and had breakfast. But where would it end up? On the pavement after she hurled her guts out? Surely, Minho’s nameless twerp of a pal wouldn’t take kindly to that. 

Things took a turn for the worse once they reached campus. Y/n became the sole recipient of the student body’s hatred as well as the personnel. If the hearing wasn’t in a few days, she would surely be used for target practice. Some of the students ignored her completely. But it wasn’t the kind of effortless disregard she’d been experiencing for years, but a conscious refusal to acknowledge her existence. If anything, that made her feel more visible than ever before. 

It being Tuesday meant she had no classes to attend that were taught by Orlova. Still, she wasn’t allowed to sit where she usually did. Given that Minho was two years older she couldn’t be supervised by him while simultaneously attending her classes, not that anyone gave a shit whether or not she did. However, to accommodate everyone’s needs, Principal Jiang decided that she had to be seated next to Hwang Hyunjin for reasons unbeknownst to her. Maybe it was his good looks. Maybe he simply was just that good of a fighter and could knock her out. Doubtful. Even the rats in her apartment could do that with a little effort. 

They didn’t exchange one word throughout each morning class. From the corner of her eye, she spied him spinning his blue pen with his fingers as if it were second nature. His eyes were glued to the board as Professor. Magnus Voelker explained the mechanics of the advanced cameras used in surveys conducted by NASA, and normally hers would be too. This was robotics after all. Thankfully, he never caught her fleeting glances. Even as he escorted her to the dining hall, his behavior was the embodiment of nonchalance. He must be quite confident that, should she try to escape, he would put an end to that fiasco. 

Once they reached the dining hall, Minho took over and Hwang Hyunjin left her side to join his friends at their usual spot. After that, it was Minho’s turn to stand guard whether that be on the line to pick up her tray or at her table. She didn’t make it to the latter. 

“What’s she doing here?” A voice frothing with venom cut through the hall. The only sound remaining was that of someone’s heavy breathing. “What the fuck is she doing here?” 

Minho cursed under his breath, and Y/n turned to meet the source. A girl with almond brown hair whom she’d seen in some of her classes, whose name she couldn’t recall, stormed her way only to be held back by a young man with a stocky build. She struggled against his hold. He whispered something in her ear, which only added fuel to the fire. 

“No, what?” She snarled, pushing him off after he muttered something only the girl could hear. “What, we’re just supposed to be cool about it? Let her stay here and stink the whole place up?! What about Juliana, huh? Ruth?” Her hazel eyes flashed as they landed on Y/n, and she stormed over. “Why are you just standing there? Get out!” 

Before she could get her hands on Y/n, whose hands were shaking to the point where the bowl of tomato soup had spilled halfway and the utensils clattered against the tray, Minho stepped in between them. 

“She can’t. I’m supposed to guard her and right now I want lunch.” He glanced back at Y/n. “She stays.”  

The girl didn’t take kindly to that. Her face betrayed her innermost feelings; betrayal, incredulity, and, lastly, loathing. 

“Fucking traitor.” She spat, slightly lowering her voice. “Ruth was your sister too.” 

“Yeah, she was.” 

The girl tried to push him but he caught her hands. 

“So why are you protecting her?” 

“Protecting?” Minho let go of her wrists. “That’s not what I was assigned to do.” 

She dug two fingers into his chest and bit out. “Lapdog. That’s just what you are.” 

Y/n couldn’t handle the way everyone was staring, watching the fight unfold as if it were a freak show. It wasn’t fair for Minho to be insulted in front of everyone just for trying to fulfill his duty. 

Trembling, she stepped up from behind him, and said, “I don’t want to be here any more than you do.” 

Minho placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t interfere.” 

The girl redirected her wrathful gaze to her and knocked the tray out of her hands. The utensils clattered to the ground. The porcelain bowl shattered and the soup spilled, splatters of it landing on Y/n’s new jeans and shoes. Never before had she been so mortified to be seen. She’d wanted it for so long and now she was receiving it in the foulest way possible. Through all this, she missed the way one of the students left his seat. 

“You and your sister,” The girl growled, hand wrapping around her neck and pushing her down to the floor. Minho intervened but was having a hard time overpowering her. Y/n found it difficult to swallow her fear, her energy spent on trying to claw the girl’s hands off of her. “Are the worst thing to have happened to this world. Filthy fucking creatures.” 

“Cleo, that’s enough!” Minho yelled, still trying to get her to let Y/n go. 

One of the male students sprinted over, grabbed Cleo by the arm, and dragged her away. The latter screeched and thrashed but the muscular male warned her not to try anything else. Minho helped her to her feet, and she finally felt like she could breathe, wheezing more like it. 

“Let me go! Am I wrong?!” Cleo pointed at Y/n once the demigod he’d let her go. “Everyone thinks so! They’re just too chicken to fucking say it. She and her disgusting worm of a sister should be cut up and thrown into Tartarus. Their kind brings nothing but misfortune. You know I’m right! It’s the truth!” 

Y/n suddenly became aware of someone else’s touch on her shoulder. Someone who wasn’t Minho. 

“You’re the reason we can eat.” Cleo’s lips tilted up at the corners. “And soon, the worms are going to eat your sister.” 

“Hey, now that’s wrong.” Said the person who stood next to her. His bleached hair and soothing, deep voice should have given him away. But maybe he hadn’t spoken until now. “She’s just a little- 

“You stay out of this.” Cleo cut him off sharply. “This is none of your business.” 

“But you- 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“That’s enough!” 

A voice boomed that shook Y/n to her core. It was as if one moment she’d been sailing on a rocky boat in the middle of nowhere, the storm raging all around her, and then a grounding silence. She looked to the right, where a male demigod⸺ firmly built, with curly dark brown hair, and eyes that might be sweet but right then expressed stern disapproval⸺ crackled with power as he took in the scene before him. Even Cleo stopped her kicking and screaming at the sight of him, as did everyone else. 

“The hearing is four days away.” He stated, fixing all of them with a look that warned them not to act stupid. “If any of you have any complaints about her being here, take it up with Professor. Laqueus.”  He shepherded the crowd back to normalcy, quelling the heated blood between them and Y/n (if only momentarily), and tasked the other demigod who had previously stopped Cleo from choking her to death with accompanying the girl back to her seat. Knowing better than to disobey, she marched back to her seat with him in tow.

Minho leaned in and whispered, “Let’s go, Y/n. I doubt you want to eat here after this.” 

Before they began to walk out, he looked back to see Lee Felix walking back to his friends. 

“You should hurry up.” Felix seemed surprised, his eyes widening, to hear Minho talk to him. “Lunch is almost over.” 

Y/n didn’t get the chance to thank him or even see his response to what Minho had just said. He was eager to get out of there, possibly even more than her. 

One thing about Lee Minho? He didn’t bother changing her mind when she headed straight to bed right after they went back to his apartment. There wouldn’t have been any use in it. She was but a corpse standing; her neck black and blue, no food in her system, and wounds that wouldn’t heal. Whatever he had to say could wait. 

Hours later, sometime past10 PM, Y/n was awoken by a series of knocks at the door and Minho stepped into the darkness of the bedroom. She didn’t remember pulling the curtains shut, having passed out on the bed almost instantly after her body had hit the mattress. Maybe he’d thought they would help her sleep better. Now, he drew them to reveal the view of New Rome stark against the night. Y/n could swear this was when the city came alive. 

Minho turned on the bedside lamp to her right and set down the tray of food. It took some time for her to finish the bowl of tomato soup as it hurt to swallow. When she was done, he put it aside.  “We should talk about what happened.” He said with a serious look in his eyes. “The whole truth.” 

Just as it hurt to swallow, it hurt to speak. When she did, it sounded airy and raspy, like a small rock chafing against a boulder. It came out broken the first few times until she resolved to speak slowly.  “How can I trust you won’t twist anything just ruin Luna’s life?” 

“You can’t. I just think that since you’re going to be living here for a few weeks we should at least come up with a plan. For that,” He paused as if considering his next words carefully, “You have to tell me the truth.” 

Y/n looked down at her hands. The soft flesh where her nails had been had begun to itch. 

“Those don’t sound like your words.” She muttered. 

Minho sighed audibly and got up. “Professor Hajjar is doing his best to come up with a solid defense strategy. I’m just helping him.” 

He sounded sensible enough but giving away information just like that wasn’t something he or any of his friends would do if they were in her shoes. In fact, Y/n was willing to bet they would withhold it just because they could. They would do it for fun. It pissed her off that he would demand it of her. 

Y/n tried to tear her eyes away from her fingers but they ached and itched miserably. She wished there was a tool to scratch them and relieve her of the discomfort. 

“I’ll tell you,” she said, looking up at him. “Under one condition.” 

“You’re in no position to place conditions.” 

“Then I won’t tell you.” 

They held each other’s gaze, which was no small task for Y/n. She tried her hardest not to let trepidation show in her face, even if the golden glow of the bedside lamp was the only source of light in the room. Downstairs, a cry of frustration was heard, sounding a lot like the Beomgyu guy, but not even that succeeded in destroying her efforts. On the other hand, Minho didn’t seem all that affected. He took a few steps backward to lean against the side of the closet. 

“Shoot.” He said. 

“I want to see Luna.” She shot him a pleading look when he looked away. “Professor Hajjar got you in, didn’t he? When you came to visit? Then he assigned you to- 

“It isn’t up to him.” He revealed. “It was Professor. Laqueus who assigned me to you. Professor. Hajjar used to be one of her students and her protégé, which is why he managed to put in a good word for me. It was easy for her to believe I wouldn’t allow you to do as you please.” 

Recalling recent events, it was easy to see why. “Because Ruth was your sister.” 

Minho nodded. 

“Convincing her to let you see your sister won’t be easy.” He remarked. “She doesn’t stand to gain anything from your reunion.” 

Y/n swung the covers off of her and sat at the edge. 

“But she does.” She appealed. “If she allowed me to see my sister, she could learn the truth. I would tell her.” 

Minho stared off into space, a thoughtful expression taking over, as she anxiously waited for his response; fingers clenched around the baby blue sheets.  

“I’ll tell Prof- 

Minho had barely gotten out those few words before she threw her arms around him. 

“Thank you!” Y/n squealed into his neck. 

Anyone else would have pushed her off and called the cops on her. She was a stranger known by all, including Lee Minho. He didn’t owe her anything, but if he was willing to negotiate on her behalf, she would be in his debt. Yet he let her wrap her skinny arms around his fit frame and pat her head. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, though.” He told her in an attempt to set realistic expectations. “She could refuse to bargain just to spite you.” 

She could. But maybe she wouldn’t. There were only two people who might be able to provide a smidge of concrete proof. A testimony of sorts. Luna must be refusing to talk or they wouldn’t be hounding Y/n about it, and the latter would keep her mouth shut unless they agreed to her terms. Putting them on the spot was a risky gamble. If only she weren’t in a tight spot herself. 

In cold sweat. That’s how Y/n awoke. The fog from her dream seeped into reality, making it hard for her to even tell the time when she looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:19 in the morning. She felt her cheeks with the back of her hand, sweeping the damp strands of hair away from her face. Cold, clammy flesh. Everything, from the shirt that stuck to her skin to her parched throat, would have been worth it if she could remember what the dream had been about. Only a nightmare would have her panting so. 

Too afraid to go back to sleep, Y/n sat up, back against the dark blue headboard, and listened to the life of New Rome. It had dulled a little, settling into a hum with only irregular intermissions of car engines revving in the distance. The city lights grounded her but it wasn’t what she wished for. She wanted calm. Silence like never before. She wanted to hear Luna’s voice. She needed a towel and a glass of water. 

The shadows in the room swam before her, performing for her and only her. In them, she saw leaves, rain, a child’s smile, hands clasped around another pair, buildings rising from the floor until back to it they returned, crumbling. She waited for an encore but nothing danced across the walls. Not a peep. Just as she was about to give sleep another chance, a bout of unintelligible whispers flooded into her ear. Y/n squinted in the dark. The shadows seemed to rain horizontally, droplets splashing on the wall with each sound. Could that be a hallucination? 

“…dated her.” 

Curious. Why would the shadows try to gossip with her about people’s dating lives? Why did the voice sound so familiar? There came a sigh, and after that, the sound became clearer. It was as if she were a participant in the conversation. It left her mouth feeling drier than before. 

“What does that have to do with what happened?” 

That voice she could never forget. Silvery with peril swimming in each note, the presentiment of being shadowed in the woods. Hwang Hyunjin. The haze of sleep had dissipated and now Y/n was left frozen in her bed, clutching the sheets tighter. The sudden awareness that he existed in the same house, at night, chilled her to the bone. 

“Did you, or did you not receive her text message the night she was killed?” 

She recognized the other voice as belonging to Minho. A frustrated Minho. 

“I did,” Hyunjin answered. “I ignored it.” 

A tense pause, and then, “Why?” 

Hyunjin sighed once again. 

“Because there was nothing between us and I didn’t think anything serious was going on.” 

“Her message read ‘I’m being followed please help’.” Minho whispered in disbelief. “How the fuck is that not serious?” 

“She used to do that the first few weeks after we stopped seeing each other.” 

“After you broke things off out of nowhere.” 

Hyunjin scoffed and when he next spoke, it was as if the temperature in Y/n’s bedroom had dropped at the very least 20 Celsius degrees. 

“I’m not going to be lectured by you, Minho.” 

The pitter-patter of the shadows played the rhythm of their breathing. Minho’s breath caught in his throat and he gulped down whatever he had meant to add. Hyunjin’s breathing was deceptively calm as if the conversation had meant next to nothing to him. Y/n wondered whether he looked the same or if there were, by any chance, a hint of a frown or a sneer. Some trace of malice to cement her opinion of him. 

But what if he wasn’t even there? What if this was but a figment of her imagination, tricks that her mind was playing on her to make up for Luna’s absence, trying to make her feel in control of something as primordial as the dark? It was a fact that nothing was under her control, try as she might. Maybe her mind was desperate for the illusion of it. Any other demigod would not have questioned the veracity of their visions and jumped straight into theorizing or action. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why did she feel stranded?

Y/n sat at the edge of the bed, stopping just to listen to the sound of footsteps disappearing down the corridor. One of them had already left, but if she managed to catch sight of the other then that meant her vision had been true and not a hallucination. She forced her legs to walk and all but held her breath as she opened the door, fearing it would squeak. Leaving the door slightly ajar seemed like the safest option if she wished to be silent. Descending the stairs to the floor below had her heart pumping outrageous amounts of blood. She could hear it rushing throughout her veins. Her ears buzzed with it. 

“You look scared.” 

She almost jumped out of her skin in the living room. He sounded so close, almost as if he was breathing down on her neck, but when she looked to the left, she saw him leaning against one of the glass walls. He was still in his training attire, his hair still matted from practice. Had he truly been practicing late into the night? How had Y/n not spotted him when she could literally see in the dark?  He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to respond. 

“I was- I was thirsty.” She stuttered out. 

What was she supposed to say? That she woke up out of breath and that the shadows hijacked their conversation so she could eavesdrop? Whatever they had spoken about was clearly supposed to remain between them and them alone. Hwang Hyunjin might actually kill her if she told him the truth. 

He walked up to her slowly. They were almost face to face when she noticed his hair was no longer in a half-up-half-down hairstyle. Damp strands clung to his beautiful face. His dark eyes rove over her face, gleaning information from each micro expression of hers. 

“Is that so?” He said, and Y/n couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asking or mocking her. 

Hwang Hyunjin studied her for a few seconds longer before walking up the stairs. Shaken, Y/n went to the kitchen and drained two bottles of water, taking a third up to her room. At least she wasn’t becoming a victim of her own mind. 

****************************************************************************************** 

Minho had promised to speak with Professor Hajjar before classes started and, though he didn’t divulge much in the way of details, he had kept his promise. It was a great start to the day. Luna and her would soon be reunited. 

In all of her classes, she sat by Hwang Hyunjin. He was just as silent as the day before, spinning his pen, jaw propped on his palm as he absorbed the lesson from start to finish. It was a miracle Y/n jotted down a few sentences considering how distractingly nice he smelled. She hoped he didn’t notice her passing glances. Truly, it was embarrassing how secretive she was with it whereas he stared at her unflinchingly whenever he pleased for however long he saw fit. Not a care in the world if it made her uncomfortable. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why was she so embarrassed to look at him as they walked alongside each other from class to class, when their classmates would approach him during breaks to fool around, or when he handed her back to Minho like a fish that he’d been asked to take care of while the latter was away? 

Other than that, things went as smoothly as they could, given the circumstances. Cleo didn’t get a chance to choke her as they didn’t share any classes and Y/n didn’t have lunch with the rest of her peers. She didn’t need to. Minho had taken the time to prepare their lunches (two boxes with ham sandwiches and something he called pesto sauce, sliced apples, peeled oranges, two pop tarts each, and a nasty concoction that she’d been so curious of that Minho had offered her a sip). They finished their meal in an empty classroom. No one around. Voices drifting from outside the door. 

After classes were done for the day, the two of them headed to the Training Centre. Y/n had been secretly hoping he would let her skip today as well, ashamed of her lack of everything. Everything that made a demigod a demigod, save for supernatural abilities, she lacked. Agility, marksmanship, strength, speed, stamina, endurance, resilience. It was just too late.  

“If you don’t master the conventional pin forget about doing anything else,” Minho repeated for the fourth time since they’d started training with knives. 

“I know.” Y/n huffed. “I just don’t understand how I’m supposed to just know.” 

Minho collected the knives that had clattered to the floor after her failed attempts and placed one of them in her palm. 

“How could you when you’re not even present? You’re not even trying.” 

Before she had the time to sulk about how he didn’t realize how difficult it was for her to get the fundamentals of knife-throwing down, a demigod she didn’t know approached them and whispered something in Minho’s ear. Y/n pretended she was busy studying the handle of the knife, but anyone could tell she was snooping. It was considered a bad habit but it had become second nature over the years. When the other student had gone on his way, Minho quelled her curiosity. 

“I have to leave.” He told her. “Principal Jiang has called for me.” 

Then who was going to train her? Was she to stay there and practice on her own until she managed to make it stick at least once? 

“Should I leave without you?” Y/n asked as she watched him pack his gym bag. 

Minho shook his head and took a swig off his water bottle. 

“No, it’s forbidden.” He shot a glance across the room, where his friends were taking turns plunging knives into the target board. It seemed fun when they did it. “Hyunjin will take over while I’m gone.” He slung the strap over his shoulder and said, “See you at home.” 

He approached his friends and had a word with Hwang Hyunjin who she could swear rolled his eyes at her. Asshole. It wasn’t like she wanted to be taught by him either. With Minho gone and Hwang coming toward her, the room seemed to have shrunk to the size of cardboard box. She wanted out. 

He glanced down to where she ran her thumb across the handle of the blade out of uneasiness. Still, Hwang said nothing of it, choosing instead to look up into her eyes again. Y/n averted her gaze, breathing in. 

“Should I throw?” She suggested. 

A beat later, he plucked the blade from her hold almost as easily as a flower in a pot. 

“No need.” He said simply, shooting her a bored look before walking up to the designated line. “Watch.” 

Hwang Hyunjin must have been born with a blade in his grip. The fluidity of his movements and the speed with which he sent the blade flying while barely looking in the direction of the target board had her gawking. Minho had mentioned before that while he was great, Hyunjin was phenomenal. It’s just that with everything moving so fast, Y/n hadn’t given it much thought. Now that she’d seen it for herself, there was nothing she could do but open and close her mouth like a stupid fish. 

As he walked back to her after retrieving the knife, Y/n pointed at the board. 

“That was- how did you do that?” She stuttered. “Is there some kind of trick to it?” 

“Get in position.” 

The admiration faded as annoyance took its place. He could have at least answered her question, however stupid it might have sounded to him. Had it sounded stupid to him? 

“The first thing you need to consider when throwing is the distance.” He explained, and suddenly Y/n was all ears as he got behind her, parting her knees and adjusting the angle of her torso. “It determines the number of rotations. The closer to the target you are, the fewer rotations you need to land a critical hit.” 

Y/n nodded, all too alert. “Okay.” 

“Adjust your grip.” He instructed, breath fanning the apex of her cheekbone as he fixed the placement of her fingers along the handle. “Didn’t Minho teach you this already?” 

“He um- he did.” 

“Follow his instructions.” 

“I’m trying.” 

Hwang Hyunjin scoffed. “No, you aren’t.” 

Y/n caught her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent herself from crying for no apparent reason. Was she embarrassed or did she feel wronged in some way? 

“Minho said the same thing.” She said under her breath. 

Y/n felt his hair graze the shell of her ear as he leaned forward, his chest brushing against her shoulder as nimble fingers guided hers. 

“Hold it up here,” Hyunjin coached. “The farther you move from the target, the higher you need to relocate your grip. Even though it comes down to strength at one point, the grip is still crucial.” He distanced himself, taking his pleasant body heat with him. “Throw it.” 

Y/n looked back just in time for him to raise an eyebrow at her reluctance. That straightened her up real quick and she sent the knife flying. Something was wrong and Y/n couldn’t pinpoint what. Had she not exerted enough strength? Had she let go too soon? Either way, the blade clattered to the floor and she was forced to make the walk of shame to retrieve it without meeting Hwang Hyunjin’s eyes even once. He was probably rolling them again anyway. 

When she got back, blade in hand and eyes on every surface but him, he spun her by the shoulders and parted her knees with his own. Hands at her waist, he adjusted the angle of her torso. 

“Breathe in. Tighten your core.” She could feel his chest rise against her back with each instruction, “Throw. And this time,” The mocking lilt of his tone made her shrivel with shame, “Try to make it stick.” 

With that, Hwang’s body heat parted from hers and Y/n felt like she could breathe at last. It was a few seconds until she could do as he’d commanded, and even when she felt confident that it would at least reach the target table she was met with the sound of the knife clattering pitifully on the floor, a few feet from the table. Involuntarily, she looked to Hwang and once she did, she couldn’t look away. His boredom was palpable. 

“You’re so weak.” He remarked. “Too pitiful to even call you prey.” 

That Hwang Hyunjin was bored out of his wits, she could understand. That he was also callous and didn’t have her good interests at heart it was hard not to notice. But he had a job to do when Minho was unavailable; he had to guard and teach her. He wasn’t happy with it? Big fucking deal! Neither was she. None of this was going to get Luna out of the lab or keep her alive, and with the way he always spoke it was becoming increasingly more difficult not to claw at him like a harpy. 

“Is that why you’ve been staring me down like a creep?” 

Both Y/n’s glare and question were met with an impassive look as if he couldn’t give less of a shit even if he tried. 

“Is that why you ran away that night?” Hwang countered. 

Her limbs froze. She scanned the room for places she could use as shelter for when the sentries came for her. The only thing she could think to do was bolt for the exit. But she’d be caught and Luna would be all alone and it would all be his fault. 

“I didn’t run away.” Fuck, she was gasping for breath. 

Hwang scoffed, slapping the flat side of the blade against his palm. “Of course you didn’t.” 

The bastard was definitely taunting her and she couldn’t force him to stop. She couldn’t force him to do anything. On the other hand, he could. There was no place she’d rather be than anywhere he wasn’t, even if it was just for a few hours. Getting to Minho’s penthouse would get Minho in trouble, that’s for sure, but if she didn’t get away from Hwang Hyunjin, she’d pass out from poor respiration. 

Y/n had just started to make a break for it when she heard it. 

“Leaving already?” He challenged. She turned back only to see he was spinning the blade with his fingers. “You must not want to see your sister after all.” 

Y/n glared because she did. There was nothing more she wanted at that moment than to see her little sister. How dare he state otherwise? Was he taunting her again? Was it something else? A threat maybe? Would he really tell the higher-ups about what had happened that night and cast more suspicion upon Luna? 

While Y/n was busy chewing on her bottom lip, contemplating whether to try to run away (key word; try) or just swallow the fear Hwang inspired in her, he had pushed himself off the wall and sauntered toward her. Slowly, without her realizing, he’d led her back to their spot. 

The demigod placed the blade on her sweaty palm and, in an even voice, commanded, “Be a good little student and get in position.” 

Trembling fingers wrapped around the handle, Y/n did as she was told. 

When Minho came home later that evening, he knocked twice before Y/n eventually grumbled in response and he entered. 

“We don’t bite so come downstairs and eat with us.” He said, palm planted on the doorway as he peered at her bundled-up shape in the darkness. She buried her face under the blanket. “Y/n.” 

“Who else will be there?” She spoke, her voice muffled. 

Minho sighed and she could hear him approach her bed. Her fingers tightened around the edges but he pulled them off her with ease. 

“As I said,” He turned on the lampshade and walked away like he hadn’t interrupted the first decent nap she’d had in a long while. He’d changed out of his training gear, now in an eggplant purple hoodie and grey sweats, and the pleasant scent of mint lingered. “We don’t bite so come down or you’ll go to sleep without dinner.” 

Y/n planted her elbows on the mattress. 

“Haven’t experienced that before.” She groused. 

Minho laughed softly. 

“Smartass.” He muttered before vanishing down the corridor. Didn’t even bother to shut the door. 

Y/n looked around the room, examining the expanse of the wall before her for dancing shadows or morbid visions. Only after she felt certain neither would plague her for the time being did she pluck up the courage to go wash her mouth and face and join the rest of them for dinner. Surely enough there they were, eating slowly as they talked about… whatever it was they talked about. All of that died down when she pulled out a chair next to Minho. Only momentarily though. They were back at it in no time, pretending that she didn’t exist. 

The first thing she noticed was that there wasn’t a fork or a spoon but two chopsticks. She’d never used them in her life. Hadn’t had a reason to. 

“Hold them like this.” Minho showed her the proper way to hold them and the clamping motion. It took a few tries for her to get the gist of it (she sucked). “And don’t eat too fast.” 

She couldn’t eat too fast. It made her feel sick and she’d end up vomiting on their precious tapestry. Gods knew how much it had to cost. 

Y/n was trying to finish her bowl of rice when Choi Beomgyu spoke to her for the first time ever. 

“How did you kill them?” 

She couldn’t move a muscle. All eyes were on the two of them. “What?” 

“Gyu stop this bullshit,” Minho warned. 

Beomgyu waved him off, smiling like the insensitive idiot he was. 

“Ruth and Juliana.” He chirped as though he was asking her if she preferred dogs over cats. “How did you kill them?” 

Y/n shut her eyes. “I didn’t.” 

“So, it’s true then. Your sister did?” 

“No, she- 

“Such a little girl with such an appetite for bloodshed.” He sing-sang. “Truly, a monster of all time, isn- 

The bowl and the chopsticks clattered to the floor, the sound of metal hitting the floor and porcelain shattering rining throughout the living room. 

“Shut up!” Y/n shrieked, eyes still shut tight. “Shut up! Shut up!” 

Minho barely managed to get her to sit back down (she didn’t even remember standing up), when Beomgyu spoke once more. 

“Don’t get all riled up now.” His did not sound as chipper as before. Perhaps the young man was afraid of what Minho might do if she broke any more bowls because of him. “I’m just asking since we’re living under the same roof you know. It’s not like- 

“We didn’t kill anyone.” Y/n scanned the table, studying their expressions. So muddled were her wits that each one, be that concern, fear, or intrigue resembled that of a pool of repulsion. “Not that you care.” 

With so much more than she wanted to shout but couldn’t find the courage to, and with the awareness that each step of hers was weighed down by someone’s acute stare, she walked up to her bedroom and got under the blankets once again. They’d shed the warmth and she had to rub her feet for a while until she got comfortable. She’d just started dipping her toes in the pond of dreams, light scattering at the edges of her vision as she readied herself to submerge when a knock dragged her ashore. 

Before Minho had the chance to say a word, for she knew what he intended to ask of her, she beat him to the punch. 

“I want to see my sister.” Her eyes remained closed. “Or I’m not telling you anything.” 

He let out a sound akin to a groan of exasperation. 

“The more you keep the truth a secret, the more they torture her.” 

It was as if a tornado had ripped off the eyelids from her eyeballs. Frantic, Y/n threw off the blankets and got to her feet, Minho following suit in an attempt to placate her. 

“Torture?” 

“Calm down- 

“No!” She pushed at his chest, her breathing getting shallower by the second. All sense was gradually being replaced by the gnawing need to maim. “You said they’re just- they were just running tests! She didn’t- she hasn’t done anything! You- 

“Y/n!” 

“What are you doing to my sister?!” 

His round, brown eyes widened in disbelief at her outburst, even though she’d just had one merely half an hour ago. 

“You think losing your shit will help her?” He jabbed two fingers at his temple. “Think, Y/n. Think. The only thing you can do for her is tell me the truth.” 

She was already in tears, sobbing as she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand like the disgusting fucking freak she was considered to be. 

“Take me to her.” She begged, looking up at Minho in hopes that he could answer the desperation in her eyes with mercy. “She has to know I haven’t abandoned her.” 

“I would if I could,” was all Minho delivered. “But they’d have both our heads for trespassing. The only way I can help you is through Professor Hajjar. Think about it. You think you have the luxury to keep your mouth shut? Not talking will only make things worse for you during the hearing, which is three days away by the way. Get this in that head of yours, Y/n. Your sister might be doomed either way but you have a chance to do something to save her, yet you choose to remain silent. If she dies, the fault will be yours. No one else’s.” 

That did it for her. Still shedding tears, she looked him in the eye with more hatred than she’d ever had the gall to show in front of another human being. Chiron had warned her not to, that they would treat her infinitely worse than they already had, that they would strip her of what little human rights she still possessed. But she couldn’t remember any of that. Not when Minho, who didn’t deserve her wrath, who wouldn’t hurt her even if she didn’t know that, stood before her, wearing the face of all the people who had hurt her. 

“You’re just like the rest of them. You want me to talk so then you have an excuse to be rid of me and Luna for good. You want us to rot in a lab until we die just so you can eat.” Y/n spat the following sentence through gritted teeth. “I wish all of you would just die.” 

Minho frowned. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he upset? Disappointed? So angry he could beat her to a pulp then and there? What was he feeling at that moment? Had she managed to wound him even a tiny bit? 

He simply reached inside his pocket, where he’d stored a small packet of napkins, and handed it to her before walking out without a word. Sleep did not come easy this time. The pond was dry. 

****************************************************************************************** 

If it weren’t for the stiffness of his shoulders whenever he spoke to her, Y/n would have thought last night’s conversation had been a hallucination. Minho made her breakfast, packed their lunches, bought her chocolate milk at the convenience store on their way to the university, and sat with her in an empty classroom once again. It was his duty to guard and train her. He didn’t have to take care of her, teaching her how to massage her muscles, buying her vanilla soaps and rose-scented shampoo, or even asking if she’d like to join them for movie night on Thursday. Truly, Y/n felt ashamed of the way she’d acted, even if those had been her genuine feelings at the time. Even though those same feelings persisted, she knew that he deserved an apology. But she didn’t know how to do it properly. 

In the library, as she sat one table away from Minho, Y/n brainstormed while occasionally glancing his way. Each time, his eyes were glued to the page. Each time, she felt a little more guilt-ridden.  At one point, someone took a seat opposite from her, and when Y/n raised her eyes, she was relieved to see him sitting there. It had only been a week or so since they’d last sat this close. He, of course, had made no effort to speak with her. Why would he? Kim Seungmin was not her friend. But she’d felt his absence nonetheless. 

“It’s been a while,” Y/n said, smiling. Though she was used to being ignored, this time it felt different. His eyebrows were tense and his mouth was set in too straight a line for it to be attributed to concentration. Cautiously, she tried again. “Are you angry at me?” 

Seungmin looked up then back down, turning the page. “No, but I will be if you keep talking.” 

Y/n felt cold with embarrassment all over and she did not speak again for fear that her throat would clog up halfway through the sentence. She had a feeling that would annoy him more. They sat in silence, each busy with their own tasks, until Seungmin did something he’d never done before. 

“Where did you get that?” 

Startled that he’d struck up a conversation, Y/n looked up from the page she’d been scribbling on. He nodded at the book that lay on top of her backpack. 

“I didn’t steal it I promise. Professor Hajjar gave it to me.” Yet she felt like a criminal still. She felt guilty, and it must have shown on her face because Seungmin deadpanned. Hoping to convince him, she added, “Do you want me to lend it to you?” 

“I have a copy back at home.” 

Y/n picked at her nailbed with the unmaimed fingers. “You must have read it front to back.” 

“Three times.” He specified, taking a pencil to jot down notes on the margins. “The third part, the one on the Underworld, is the best in my opinion. Elaborate without veering off track.” 

Smiling, Y/n flipped through the pages of the book until she found what he was referring to and dog-eared it. The shiver that ran through her was one of excitement. No one, other than Minho and Luna that is, bothered to talk to her. She had taken to having discussions with herself, asking questions that only she’d bother to try finding the answer to, whiling away the hours of the night when the stomach pangs kept her from much-needed rest. 

“You’re shivering again.” Seungmin pointed out, sounding just as disapproving as before. 

Y/n let out a sheepish laugh. “At least we’re not in the lab, right?” 

The young man made as if to speak only to look back down, fingertips toying with the top corner of the page. Y/n didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was the way he pushed up his glasses, the slightly disheveled hair from when his friend had ruffled it during recess, or the knitted cream sweater over the white shirt that made him appear the complete opposite of the way he spoke. It was all completely irrational. At that moment, it just felt like the right thing to say. 

“You did the right thing.”  

Seungmin examined her face for answers the way he did with samples at the lab. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Ignoring me.” Y/n clarified, scrawling at the edges of her handwritten apology. “You did the right thing.” 

The confusion melted off his face, gradually replaced by understanding. He held her gaze for a few seconds longer before looking down once more. 

“It was the strategic thing to do.” 

Back at the apartment, things were rowdier than ever. Beomgyu had gotten the brilliant idea to just blast music as loud as he could without getting kicked out permanently, leaving Y/n with a brain-scrambling headache for the entirety of the evening. Eventually, Minho put an end to the madness, finally granting Y/n some time with her thoughts. 

Sitting in the shower, Y/n had never felt so clean yet so filthy. Her neck was littered with bruises it was hell to scrub at it. Her fingernails were so cracked and torn that it hurt to hold a pen. Despite the stretching and the massage, her muscles ached terribly. At night, she was plagued by visions, and every time she thought that sleep might alleviate the symptoms, she was proven wrong. 

She thought about the dining hall incident, Cleo’s rage, her fingers crushing her windpipe, and the repulsed acknowledgment of the other demigods. She thought back to when Luna had pleaded not to go to school but she’d forced her to, anyway. How Y/n regretted not having let her stay home and draw princesses on her little sketching pad. None of this would have happened. Luna wouldn’t be used as a lab rat, and she wouldn’t be faced with the choice of speaking or remaining silent. Both equally rotten. 

For the first time since… she didn’t remember when, Y/n bit into her arm to stop herself from screaming. The tears and snot ran down her face, making her feel all the filthier. The muffled screeches were the only way she could speak. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to. She should have stayed in that shabby hut in Camp Half-blood. She should have stayed in the forest with Luna. They never should have returned. She had convinced Luna it was for the best and look where that got them. She was so stupid she wanted to die then and there. She deserved to be alone. 

Minho called out to her from the other side of the door, asking if everything was fine. Y/n bit into her arm just a little harder, enough to draw blood, and then let go, affirming that she was alright. His footsteps receded down the corridor. 

In her room, as she arranged her backpack for the next day so the rest wouldn’t have to wait for her, Y/n spotted the book Professor Hajjar had gifted her. She recalled her conversation with Seungmin and thought about how, regardless of her choice, she would never speak to him again. Even if Luna was released, Y/n would never see the sun again. She’d be locked up in the lab, getting drained on a schedule as the years wore on, and the rest of the demigods would go on to explore the world, creating families of their own, and share urns with their beloveds. She would get cremated, her ashes cast into Tartarus. Then, it would be Luna’s turn. 

Y/n placed the book on the nightstand. 

Downstairs, Minho had just finished preparing dinner. She offered to help him set the table but he shook his head saying that Yeonjun was supposed to since he’d shirked his kitchen duty and that the least he could do was help him with the utensils. The taller demigod rolled his eyes, made an offhand comment about her damp hair, and got to work. With nothing else to do but wait, Y/n sat at the table and zoned out. 

Every time Minho snapped her out of it, she slid back into that empty space until eventually, Yeonjun had enough and snapped at her to just eat. Startled, Y/n picked up the spoon and tried not to let it spill. She was trying so hard not to cry again. She didn’t want them to mock her as a crybaby. Keeping her head down as she brought the spoon to her lips again and again, she didn’t know what kind of expression they were wearing as she swallowed spoonful after spoonful. If she did, she would have caught the glare Minho pinned Yeonjun with (the latter looking away as if nothing had happened), Beomgyu’s stunned countenance, and Hyunjin’s incisive gaze. 

Y/n placed the spoon in the empty bowl and before either Minho or Yeonjun could say anything, she beat them to it. 

“She started having nightmares a few days before Juliana was killed.”

<<<Chapter 2 Chapter 4>>>