#but ao3 maintains the formatting better

[gimmethatagustd]

what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | dystopian | supernatural | friends to lovers | angst | smut | fluff

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm. 

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared. 

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.  

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt. 

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief. 

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers. 

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land. 

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down. 

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.  

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.” 

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.” 

You scrunch your nose at kiddo. 

“I’m not a kid.” 

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.” 

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug. 

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face. 

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole. 

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in. 

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful. 

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees. 

But he thinks you’re just a kid. 

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would. 

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.  

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field. 

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.” 

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth. 

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart. 

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours. 

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?” 

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone. 

“I don’t know.” 

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything. 

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag. 

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?” 

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead. 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors. 

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour. 

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest. 

“Aghh!” 

“Pay attention.” 

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass. 

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field. 

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!” 

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles. 

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises. 

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks. 

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.” 

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass. 

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin. 

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about. 

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile. 

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” 

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning. 

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away. 

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.” 

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook. 

“I hurt all over, Joonie.” 

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.” 

“Sparring.” 

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-” 

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air. 

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again. 

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap. 

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze. 

“You did not.” 

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle. 

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.” 

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.” 

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.” 

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods. 

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong. 

“Impossible?” 

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.   

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away. 

“I…” 

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small. 

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.” 

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was. 

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population. 

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for. 

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.” 

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame. 

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.” 

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat. 

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent. 

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words. 

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins. 

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.” 

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess. 

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill. 

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon. 

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement. 

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled. 

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped. 

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed. 

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term. 

You probably would have done the same. 

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort. 

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them. 

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles. 

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.” 

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon. 

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once. 

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.” 

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work. 

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there. 

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care. 

“Not working?” 

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.” 

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway. 

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months. 

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.” 

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away. 

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?” 

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street. 

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor. 

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.” 

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run. 

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder. 

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.” 

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method. 

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?” 

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest. 

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded. 

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms. 

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined. 

“How?” 

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.” 

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface. 

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you. 

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal. 

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?” 

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach. 

“No.”  

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars. 

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.” 

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak. 

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.” 

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead. 

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head. 

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown. 

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to. 

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.” 

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology. 

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing. 

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you. 

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway. 

“Oh, I need to ask you-” 

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training. 

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him. 

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong. 

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress. 

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans. 

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest. 

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?” 

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy. 

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.” 

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further. 

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.” 

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either. 

“But, okay,” you relent softly. 

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders. 

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable. 

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair. 

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future. 

“What would you like me to do?” 

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly. 

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles. 

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?” 

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks. 

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.” 

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.” 

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!” 

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself. 

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own. 

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone. 

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it. 

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far. 

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him. 

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends. 

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him. 

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize. 

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way. 

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you. 

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly. 

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around. 

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group. 

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do. 

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact. 

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over. 

“Good morning, kiddo.” 

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold. 

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body. 

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says. 

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them. 

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist. 

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you. 

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s. 

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared. 

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you. 

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established. 

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case. 

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.” 

“Me and Jungkook what?” 

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.” 

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.” 

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins. 

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.” 

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.” 

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head. 

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.  

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.” 

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers. 

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-” 

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move. 

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible. 

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either. 

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole. 

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow. 

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone? 

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body. 

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive. 

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead. 

“Where did you-”  

“Shhh.” 

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens. 

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing. 

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you. 

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes. 

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” 

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.” 

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing… 

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?” 

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out. 

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route. 

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.” 

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet. 

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally. 

“He’s okay.” 

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor. 

“He’s bleeding.” 

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.” 

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.” 

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying. 

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world. 

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly. 

“But you didn’t?” 

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear. 

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then… 

He’s gone. 

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself. 

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms. 

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him. 

“You never showed me before.” 

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm. 

“That’s because it’s creepy.” 

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.” 

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness. 

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing. 

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do. 

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you. 

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head. 

You and Jungkook? 

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?” 

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.” 

“What if they’re the feds?” 

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.” 

“How do you know that?!” 

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?” 

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way. 

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.” 

“But-” 

“No one talks.” 

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason. 

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless. 

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from. 

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate. 

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung. 

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers. 

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune. 

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.” 

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose. 

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.” 

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man. 

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states. 

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you. 

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door. 

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.” 

PART ONE - PART TWO

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

[idontknowreallywhy]

Composition Ch 3 - Response

TL:DR version - new historic earth&sky angst! There is pain… but also there is singing!

I’m going to do a little leap back in time to the immediate sequel of Presence / prequel to Resurface because what happens here is important to the next chapter of Resurface where it finally comes full circle.

You know that gif with the guy and the conspiracy theory incident room board with all the lines and the exhausted crazy expression? Yeah that’s me trying to maintain any coherent sense of chronology.

Aaaanyhoo… the first two bits of this little fic (Da Capo and Call) are helpfully spread over 3 posts here and are where we see Virgil coming to terms with having only a fraction of Scott back from Bereznik. Oh and it might help if you’ve read this short snippet too (not vital, but it all connects)

If you want to catch up / know why Virg is in hospital / why he’s so confused / why Jeff is gonna string up some hospital admins… Presence (unlike its big brother, Resurface) is pretty short (5,000 words) and you’ll get to meet the Other Scotty, of whom I am very fond even if actual Scott wants to drop kick him into the sea.

(AO3 versions if you prefer that marginally less unhinged format: Bearded Ch 3 / Presence / Composition / Resurface)

Right where was I? Oh yeah, poking the boys with the pointy angst stick… (it gets better in the next part I promise)

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Scott did not like the hospital.

If that was what this was.

Sometimes he thought maybe he was still a prisoner. Maybe they’d just switched up the torture methods, started talking English to confuse him. Tricked him into thinking someone had finally come.

Ever since he’d woken, terrified and gagging on the tube down his throat, he’d been in pain and the pain kept changing so he couldn’t get used to it. He was cold. Constantly cold but they kept sponging him with even colder water and nobody would explain why. His bones hurt. His eyes hurt. His everything just… hurt.

And he couldn’t sleep. All he wanted to do was sleep but as soon as he drifted he was back and it was worse. So he fought it. Even when his limbs and eyelids were weighed down by something they’d given him, he clung to consciousness as long as he could. And waited. Waited for the next thing. He needed to be ready.

The dogs still lurked, sometimes at the foot of his bed, sometimes prowling the hall but never far. He could hear them even when he couldn’t see them.

Claws skittering on stone.

There were two things he held on to: Virgil’s eyes and Virgil’s voice. Those two things hadn’t been in that other place. And they were here. So here was not there. He wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there.

That had to be good.

But why was here no better?

Had they caught Virgil too?

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Sometimes Dad was here. That seemed like it should be a good thing.

But perhaps it was another lie. After all, he’d thought Dad was There sometimes too.

When he fought them, when they brought more needles and he tried make them stop because he didn’t know if this time he would be able to resist giving them what they wanted. He didn’t want to be what they wanted. His father’s voice was soft “You’re alright son, you’re safe. They know best, just do what they tell you.”

No! He mustn’t! He strained against the cold sloshing through his veins as if he could push it back out the way it entered. Muttered curses, English voices again but unfamiliar. Then Dad’s in the distance:

“He’s ok, he’s ok. He’s just confused. Just give them room. He’ll be ok, son. He’ll be ok.”

“They’re scaring him! Stop it! No! SCOTT!!!”

Virgil!

Scott struggled against the weight pulling his facial muscles down, pushed his trembling lower lip against his teeth and forced the air through.

“ffffffffff ffffff. FFFFFF”

But his vocal chords didn’t get the memo and he couldn’t make the right sound, couldn’t make his name:

“Fff-ffff-Ffffff-urrrrrr?”

He couldn’t answer the call. He threw his body upwards… his arms too heavy to reach out to him and tried again in a desperate croak:

“Fffffffff-urrrrrrRRR!!!”

A crashing noise, cross voices but the sounds were muffled by the snow and the creeping dark. Angry barking somewhere behind him made Scott cringe and try to curl in on himself.

Then warm… warmth over his chest. And Virgil’s voice and HER song, he felt her song… the happy little song that made the darkness shiver and the dogs whine and back away.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

[audreyscribes]

PJO ROMAN DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: ⚔ BELLONA: GODDESS OF WAR, DESTRUCTION, DEVASTATION, CONTROLLER OF THE POLICY OF FOREIGN WARFARE 🛡

Author's Note: Alright, here's the first full Roman God and demigod! Bellona was a wild to read. There's a lot about her but also not? Like there wasn't much a lot of backstory weight behind her and Bellona was often conflated with a Greek god, Enyo, and there's a both wild and carnage side to Bellona, but also respect and honour. Hopefully I did it justice though. ROMAN DEMIGODS H/CS MASTERLIST LINKS: [TUMBLR] // [AO3]

Apart from Mars, Bellona is the next god to be worshipped at Camp Jupiter; so you’re equally respected alongside Bellona and are expected to embody the aspects of your mother and bring glory to Camp Jupiter with her skills and ferocity.

Just as much as you bring destruction and violence at the end, you bring peace when you end it; because at the end of war, there is peace; regardless of its outcome. Like Mars said, if there is only war, it's only mindlessly killing and there is no glory in that.

Like many other children of warfare, you are adept at fighting, the weapon in your hand an extension of yourself, and it only grows more fluidly and instinctually in your hands with time put into your skill. Your adeption at your weapon doesn’t necessarily have to be a blade, but can be your words and skill as well, because in war there are many methods and strategies in war.

Speaking of warfare, with Bellona being a patron of foreign warfare, you may have ties with other countries and adopt your birth country or home country’s style of warfare, battling, martial art style into your own. If not, you have a particular pull towards a country or style of warfare and become very knowledgeable in it. While in the Legion and Camp Jupiter tells you to conform with their Roman values and fighting style, at the soonest opportunity to being able to break formation and take on an individualistic maneuver, you are more deadly than before. Your limitation is being forced to move with your fellow Roman soldiers in order to maintain unity and harmony as you march towards the battlefield.

On the other hand, being a child of the patron of foreign warfare also extends to languages. You have a better grasp on languages that are outside of your birth language(s) so being multilingual is almost natural to you. The multilingualism is usually a good indication of foreign warfare tactics that I stated above, and vise-versa. 

Bellona was identified with the Greek Goddess Enyo, who is the goddess of and/or personified spirited of war. With Enyo, who followed the lead of Ares, she carried the turmoil of shameless hatred; bringing strife onto the battlefield. You too are like that once you are put on the battlefield. When you are no longer held back or behind the limits of strict values of Roman soldiers, you raze through your enemies, striking fear in your fellow soldiers but also courage to them as you are on their side. This is maybe why the children of Bellona are few and those who do exist, often take upon status of leadership and management. You are an expert in warfare and how to bring total destruction, thus you are in the right place to prevent such occurrences to your fellow Romans.

Bellona was also identified with the Sabine goddess of War, Nerio, who was the personification of Valor. This translates to you as well. Even if you are anxious and maybe shy, you honour Bellona by choosing to fight; whether it’s agony, pain, danger, uncertainty, or intimidation. While Valor is often conflated with courage or bravery in physical battle, being a child of Bellona doesn’t constrain you to this. It can be a mental battle, and Bellona is proud of you regardless. So even having mortal courage to act rightfully in the face of opposition, shame, scandal, discouragement, or personal loss, you still display the virtue of valour.

Being a child of Bellona also allows you to give a rousing and encouraging speech to others, as you can ignite the spark of encouragement in others, building their courage up like a fire.  This is very useful not only in battle, but in everyday life. You also make an excellent ambassador or spokesperson, speaking for profit or other interests. Guess that’s how Reyna became a great praetor.

I feel like when Reyna is made aware of your existence there’s a sense of scrutiny for Bellona’s favour and attention is rare outside of the field of war. Reyna also comes from a long line of those who were favoured by Bellona, so it is her responsibility to know you but also it is a relief she can find another sibling in you; however close or distant your relationship is. 

[end-otw-racism]

Template Letter to the Board

OTW Board meetings are one of the few ways fans can witness decisions being made about how the AO3 operates. Unfortunately, many fans don't even know there are board meetings, how they're run, or what they do, and even fans that do follow Board activity find it difficult to learn when they're scheduled. This has to change.

Part of the system that has created the problems OTW/AO3 are currently experiencing is due to this ongoing lack of transparency and confusing processes. In line with the upcoming elections, we feel these next few Board meetings before and after the election will be particularly important and feel the organization can be doing more to publicize them, making them more accessible and available to fans. To that end, you can share the following letter with the board by using this link and setting your message to go to the OTW Board Of Directors.  

We call on the OTW Board to demonstrate their commitment to further transparency by better publicizing their Board meetings.  Here are a few ways we feel you can do this: * add a banner to AO3 pages, like those used for membership drives * post announcements on all news platforms, not just Twitter, and pin them to the top of the page across social media  * email notices to all OTW members * maintain an opt-in mailing list for non-members Your promise of being more transparent about the org's processes must include an effort to reach as many fans as possible when announcing these meetings, giving us the opportunity to see the Board at work and make our voices heard. I stand with End OTW Racism in holding the OTW accountable to its commitments. Please start now with  better publicizing the upcoming meeting on July 2nd. Thank you, [your name]

Thanks and credit to @seepunkrun on tumblr whose basic format for these suggestions they’ve graciously allowed us to use as the foundation for this request.

[thehoneyknight]

HoneyDream AU

Quick Links: Comic Index, First Comic, Fic Ao3

'HoneyDream' is a Hollow Knight AU set in a world where the Hive and Queen Vespa take a stand against the Radiance. Following the adventure of a Vessel who lost their memories, the secrets of the Hive and the magical Vespa's Blessing preventing the spread of Infection are uncovered and the mystery of this Vessel's past begins to entangle with the uncertain future of two kingdoms held in a precarious relationship with dreams old and new.

In the end, what future will the Honey Knight choose? Are the dreams of Hallownest really to be no more?

The AU:

This is a canon-adjacent story that branches from the game by including a fourth Dreamer into Hallownest. Queen Vespa and her actions as the Hive's Dreamer are what deviate the story from what happens in the game, and following the fall of Hallownest she enacts a Blessing that shields the minds of bugs from the Infection after contact with honey. The Hive shelters bugs who fled the Infection after the Pale King vanished and with her power she protects them from the light, although Hallownest remains in stasis until the Radiance within is destroyed.

The Vessel's adventure intersects with the Hive and their story becomes one of difficult choices between dreams, memories and the future. To seek the ending Vespa chooses the Vessel must protect the Hive at all costs against any threat, and while they seek their lost memories they uncover futures stained bright by dreams and histories obscured by the dark. To uncover who they once were and the past that haunts them they must fight- although the enemy is not always who they believe it to be.

Comic and Fic:

This story was originally written as a comic that was concluded upon the first of two endings. The comic is over 1000 pages long and the easiest way to pick it up is from the start, or continuing via the comic index. The comic version is no longer being posted.

An updated version of the story is being made in a fully written format and will begin from the start with the intention of fully completing the story to its second, final ending. You can read the fic version on Ao3, although links to each chapter will be posted here alongside chapter cover art as I update.

Fic Updates:

From the comic to the fic version the majority of the story will remain the same. Some parts of the plot will be streamlined, cut entirely or expanded on depending how they fit into the overall story. Some events are also shuffled around or given a new purpose, and some sections are entirely new with the intent of balancing out the lore and story arc weights. Originally I had planned on including a written side-story for the comic which would expand on a secondary plot involving the backstories of several characters including a Vessel who only ever made secret cameos in the comic. This secondary plot has been introduced into the main plot and revised for the updated story. The overall lore of the AU remains mostly unchanged.

As a drawn media the comic faced several restrictions in needing to both script and draw everything I wanted to story to do and required a significant amount of time to draw so many pages. This was not something I could maintain and is the main reason for switching to a written format, although while making the change I want to do better. I aim to improve the story and lighten the load of presenting it in the updated version and I hope you enjoy what is to come :D

The End:

Thanks for the continued support for this comic and upcoming fic over the years. This story means a lot to me and it is important to me personally that I see it through to the end. This journey has been made so much better thanks to everyone who has been here for me, Honey and their friends along the way. Thanks for reading :D

[kawaii-angelanne]

shot to the heart | xavier thorpe x reader

CW/TW: none i can think of!

KEY TAGS: spoiler-free (can be interpreted as pre-canon), gender neutral reader, second/third pov (told in xavier's perspective), strangers to ???, flustered xavier <3

WORD COUNT: 1189

CROSS POST: ao3

OPENING NOTE: thanks for clicking on this! please do not repost, copy, modify, or overall plagiarize this work anywhere else please. plagiarism is never acceptable, both in mla 8 format and in fanfiction! for translations, message me, and we can talk about it! reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated :>

SUMMARY: "The moment the words leave your lips, he lets go along with a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. In the blink of an eye, the arrow shoots no more than an inch above the target’s red center. That was the closest he’s ever been to bullseye, and his heart pounds from both the achievement and how your body is still pressing against his."

Or where you teach Xavier how to properly shoot a bow and arrow, landing an arrow straight into the target and into his heart.

“So, are you the only member of the Archery Club?” 

Xavier Thorpe, caught-off guard by your unexpected entry, prematurely lets go of the recurve bow’s string. The arrow sails weakly in the air before sinking sadly into the leaf-covered grass and not into the target. 

“Uh, yeah,” he awkwardly lowers his bow and turns to look at you, confusion coloring his features, “Are you…interested in joining?” 

“Maybe,” you shoot him a playful, close-lipped smile before launching yourself off of the small pyramid of hay you were sitting on, “How long have you been doing archery for? A few weeks?” 

“More or less,” he returns to shooting arrows while paying you no mind, “What about you? Ever shot a bow and arrow before?” 

“I have,” you answer just as ambiguously, whistling as his last arrow lands on the blue outer ring, “For the two arrows that are on there, you don’t have terrible grouping. At least they’re all in the same ring! What’s the distance? Fifteen to twenty yards?” 

“...Fifteen,” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, slightly irritated that you’re acting like you’re the member of the Archery Club, not him. 

“Can I see your stance again, please?” you move closer to him with your hands behind your back.

His brows furrow with an unwelcome sense of inferiority, “Why?” 

Your lips curve into another impish grin, eyes gleaming with unknown intent, “You’ll see.”

With a grievous sigh, he follows your request, placing his feet apart and standing perpendicular to you. He adjusts his posture, squaring his shoulders.

“Okay, so far so good.… Now, pull back on the bow, please.” 

What are you, an archery instructor or something? 

Still, he does as you ask. After slotting an arrow below the nocking point and above the arrow rest, his three fingers grip the bowstring. He pulls back on the string. With minimal struggle, he tries to remain as still as possible, refusing the bow to lean one way or the other. His expression pulls into itself, brows furrowed even more for better concentration. 

“I see, I see…” you merely mutter to yourself, leaning in closer to further observe his archery ability, “Now, release.” 

At your command, he wastes no time shooting the arrow, relieved after having to pull back for so long. Due to the prolonged drawback, Xavier’s accuracy severely declined, the arrow plunging its tip into the upper-left corner of the target. 

“Your problem,” you point a finger up, as if you solved the mystery, “is that you seem to have a little difficulty maintaining a stable posture when pulling back on your bow and when releasing the arrow. Not enough to be concerning, but enough to affect your performance. Do you know how much your drawback is?” 

“Uh,” he searches the bow for an answer but to no avail, finding only plain wood, “This is just the bow the school has. I have no idea.” 

“You’d think the school would offer better recurve bows then, with the money we pay them,” you crack a joke, lightly jabbing him in the ribs, and then extend a hand out, “May I?” 

Xavier just stares blankly at you and then your outstretched hand, confused as to what exactly you’re asking for. With an urgent wave of your fingers towards the bow, he finally understands and quickly hands it over, slightly embarrassed that he didn’t understand you at first. 

You get into position and pull back on the bowstring with ease, soon letting it go and returning the bow to him, “Yeah, this bow’s drawback is a few pounds outside of your range. You should be handling a bow with a drawback of forty to fifty-five pounds. For today, you can use that bow, but let’s see if we can ask Weems for another bow.” 

“…Okay…” he replies, uncertain as to how to respond to such a level of authority from someone he’s never even met before.

Really, he’s grateful for all your help, but, as a member of the severely underpopulated Archery Club, he feels as if he should be the one telling you this. However, he will admit, even though he has no idea as to what your skill level actually is, you do sound like you know what you’re talking about. So, he supposes he can play along for now. 

“I have to go to the Weathervane soon to meet up with some friends, but let’s improve your shot first,” you now move behind his back, “Reload your arrow, please.” 

With a resounding click against the taut string, he sets the arrow in place and pulls back. He adjusts his posture and is ready to release before a set of palms suddenly rests on his shoulders, your chest brushing against his back. He flinches greatly at the surprise contact but not enough where he would have to reset his posture entirely. His eyes saccade rapidly between you and the target, unsure as to where he should be focusing on. 

With a hard swallow, he tries his best to form a coherent thought before speaking, “What…what’re you—?”

“Relax your shoulders,” you’re practically whispering in his ears due to your close proximity, which sends his heart beating so fast, he’s afraid you can hear it, “Lower your aim a little to the right…. Now down…. Perfect. Steady your breathing, remain calm…”

How is he supposed to “remain calm” with you so close to him!?

You remove your hands from his shoulders but still stay right behind him, your voice prickling his skin, “Now…let it fly.”

The moment the words leave your lips, he lets go along with a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. In the blink of an eye, the arrow shoots no more than an inch above the target’s red center. That was the closest he’s ever been to bullseye, and his heart pounds from both the achievement and how your body is still pressing against his. 

“Great job!” you cheer and step away, picking up your bag that was slumped against the haystack you were sitting on before, “Well, I got to go now, but I’ll see you next time! Toodles!” 

Too overwhelmed from what just happened, he watches your retreating form become smaller and smaller. Unlike him, you weren’t fazed at all, even bobbing your head to whatever music you were listening to with your headphones. 

Just who are you? He never even got your name! Are you in the same year as him? How come he’s never seen you? 

Questions flood his mind, and, before he ends up drowning in them, he decides to end the day and packs away the bow and arrows. He feels his cheeks heat up remembering how your body felt against his and how your instructive tone, distinctly different from your lighthearted one, sent shivers down his spine. 

Run. He needs a run before his memory of you, albeit brief, consumes him entirely. 

Zipping his bag, he slings it over his shoulder and heads straight to his dorm to change into more comfortable wear, hasteful to try to forget about you until the next Archery Club meeting. 

ENDING POST: xavier thorpe is my everything. i eat, breathe, and sleep xavier thorpe.

no, seriously, this is the product when you multiply my hyperfixation of xavier thorpe, my toxic trait of "i can shoot a bow and arrow better than xavier thorpe can even though i have not touched a bow in years," and my procrastination of homework.

and i have just been so inspired by the fanfiction everyone is making for this man! seriously, i have not found a greater treasure trove of fanfiction for a character in so long (the jealousy and friends to lovers trope <33) ; amazing kudos to the talented authors of this fanbase! i hope i contributed to such an incredible collection of stories for xavier thorpe just as much as everyone else has <3

[bleedingectoplasm]

A Spark (Real or Imagined)

This was inspired by the prompts for DP Side Hoes Week Day 1, Tucker and Power Up! Of course, I am posting it on Day 3, but better late than never, I suppose? I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3.

Tucker stands frozen outside of Danny’s bedroom door. He wants to knock, he really does, but for some reason, he can’t get his limbs to cooperate. Some sort of disconnect between his brain and his body is stopping the signals from his synapses from reaching the nerves in his arm.

Maybe it’s some sort of self-preservation instinct. Maybe his body knows that his heart will skip a beat the second he looks into his best friend’s eyes. Maybe his muscles know the best way to maintain homeostasis is to stay far away from Daniel James Fenton and his soft hair and sharp cheekbones and paint splatter freckles.

Ever since Danny and Sam broke up, things have been…different. Well, not between Danny and Sam. Their breakup was amicable, prompted mostly by Sam’s realization that her strong desire to be close to Valerie at all times was not, in fact, entirely platonic and she is, in fact, a lesbian. After the breakup, Danny was…completely fine. Shockingly so. While Tucker never doubted that Danny would fully support Sam’s moment of self-discovery, he expected for there to be some hurt in the fallout. It seemed almost unavoidable. But that hurt never came.

When they talked about it, Danny had just shrugged and said, “we both wanted different things.” He didn’t volunteer any additional information, as if that statement was enough of an explanation in and of itself. And then, Danny had given him that look, the one he’s been wearing more and more lately when he catches Tucker’s gaze. The corners of Danny’s eyes get all soft and his lips quirk up into a fond smile, almost like he’s looking for something and liking what he finds. It’s an expression that makes Tucker’s breath catch in his throat, equal parts intoxicating and unreadable and overwhelming.

The shift in their dynamic hasn’t been because of Danny and Sam. In fact, Tucker is pretty sure that if Danny and Sam had their way, the three of them would still be hanging out every day like nothing has changed at all. No, the difference is entirely within Tucker.

Something stirs in the pit of Tucker’s stomach whenever he and Danny are together. It’s a feeling he is intimately familiar with, a want that has burned inside of him for as long as he can remember. The fluttering of infatuation was much easier to control when Danny was dating someone else. But now that Danny is single again, now that the smallest, dumbest part of Tucker is hopeful that there might be a chance for his friendship with Danny to become something more, he can’t seem to get his butterflies to fly in formation.

Tucker hates it. He hates feeling like a little kid with a schoolyard crush, hates that he can hear his pulse in his ears every time Danny laughs, hates the way that ecstasy tips into nausea whenever Danny’s hand brushes his own at lunch. The butterflies are only manageable when Danny isn’t around, so Tucker has been valiantly trying to avoid him for the past few weeks. He’s made up homework assignments and family commitments and pulsing migraines. Danny knows it’s bullshit, Tucker can tell. He can see it in the little furrow of Danny’s brow and the tiny tilt of his head and slight purse of his lips. However, instead of calling Tucker out, Danny’s skepticism will always melt into that stupid fucking look, and he’ll accept the excuse at face value.

Tucker has been completing his duties to Team Phantom remotely, but his latest project requires face to face interaction with Danny. He’s been working on some modular enhancements to Danny’s suit, and there needs to be a fitting before final adjustments. Tucker tried to just get Danny to send over his measurements, but Danny couldn’t quite figure out how to use the measuring tape properly, for whatever reason.

Mechanical engineering is a bit outside of Tucker’s comfort zone. He’s always been more of a software guy, but Danny’s rubber hazmat suit isn’t doing enough to protect him anymore. Danny’s armor needs an upgrade, and as Danny’s guy in a chair, that responsibility falls squarely on Tucker’s shoulders. So, with little to no experience in practical construction, Tucker has been tasked with crafting something that will protect his best friend and guy he’s maybe sorta kinda in love with from facing mortal injury.

No pressure at all.

It should be a simple visit, really. He just needs to take some measurements, have Danny try a few pieces on, and then he can leave. In and out. Easy.

After one more heavy sigh, his brain and his body finally get on the same page, and he forces himself to knock.

“Come in,” Danny calls, voice muffled through the door.

Slowly, cautiously, Tucker opens the door and steps into the room. Danny is splayed out on his bed, scrolling through his phone. His shirt has ridden up a bit, and Tucker can see a small sliver of skin right above the cut of his hip bone. All the air empties from Tucker’s lungs, and he sharply turns away, unable to meet Danny’s eyes.

Danny throws Tucker a lazy grin as he hauls himself into a sitting position, his movements relaxed and self-assured. Tucker is grateful when Danny’s shirt drops to fully cover his stomach and he can breathe somewhat normally again.

“Hey,” Tucker says, hating himself when his voice waivers. “Hey, dude.” He tries again.

“Hiya, Tuck,” Danny smiles back at him. He stands and stretches his arms above his head, exposing that strip of skin once more. Tucker can feel himself short circuiting. The butterflies have become wasps and are pounding at the edges of his ribcage. He’s pretty sure that all the blood in his body has rushed up to his cheeks to paint him bright red.

This visit may be trickier than he initially thought.

“So, what’s the plan?” Danny asks.

“Uh,” Tucker says eloquently. “Um, yeah. Plan. Right. I’m just going to try these pieces on you and see what adjustments need to be made.”

Danny nods, then asks, “Do I need to change my clothes? Or does this work fine for the whole fitting thing?”

Danny is wearing jeans and an oversized NASA hoodie. The hoodie has a small blotchy stain on one of the sleeves, and Tucker can’t quite tell if it’s remnants of ketchup or blood. The stitching of the front pocket is ripping, like Danny has shoved his hands inside of it a bit too hard a few too many times. The jeans are fraying at the edges, and Tucker is pretty sure that they’re the same pair of pants that Danny has been wearing for the last four school days.

He looks beautiful.

“Are you wearing a shirt under the hoodie?” Tucker manages to ask around the lump in his throat.

Danny cocks an eyebrow at him.

“I just mean for fitting purposes,” he rushes to explain. “The hoodie looks like it might be a little thick so, you know-“

“Yeah, I gotcha,” Danny interrupts, stopping Tucker from embarrassing himself further. “I can take it off, one sec.”

Danny crosses his arms over himself, grabbing the sweatshirt from the bottom hem and lifting it over his head. Mercifully, his t-shirt remains in place, and Tucker is spared from seeing any flash of Danny’s torso.

Danny tosses the hoodie onto the bed before ruffling his unruly hair back into place.

“All good?”

Tucker swallows. Hard. “Great,” he chokes out.

The air between them is supercharged with a tension that Tucker can’t quite place. He steps closer to Danny, removing the armor prototypes from his duffel bag and laying them onto the bed.

Piece by piece, Tucker places the suit upgrades on his friend’s body, snapping and buckling the flexible plating into place. He tightens the breastplate around Danny’s chest, careful to touch only the armor itself, refusing to indulge in fantasies of resting his hand on the small of Danny’s back. As he settles the shoulder piece across Danny’s collarbone, he can feel Danny’s icy breath dance across his cheek. It’s tantalizing, and it takes all of Tucker’s willpower to hold himself back.

His fingertips just barely brush against Danny as he places the final piece of the armor around Danny’s forearm. There’s a spark that skitters across the surface of Tucker’s skin where they made contact, and for a moment he thinks it’s just in his head, the same sort of electricity he always feels whenever he gets too close to Danny. But as he catches the incremental shift in Danny’s expression as he winces, he realizes the spark was very real.

Tucker jerks his hand away from Danny, tripping over himself to apologize. “I’m sorry, this is new tech and all, but it shouldn’t have—”

His voice seizes as Danny catches Tucker’s hand in his own and presses Tucker’s palm firmly against his arm, refusing to break eye contact. The atmosphere in the room shifts and gravity collapses into them. Tucker can’t move away, he doesn’t want to. He may never move from this spot ever again. He keeps waiting for Danny to say something, but Danny offers no explanation. The only sound in the room is the twin rattling of their breathing. Danny’s bedroom has become a cathedral, and speaking would disturb the holiness of the atmosphere.

The moment stretches into an eternity. Tucker can feel a flush licking over his skin like fire. He is afraid he may burn up, completely consumed by the flames of his own desire. In a last attempt at self-preservation, Tucker finally finds his voice.

“What are you doing?” The question resonates in the room with a rasp.

There it is again. The look. Tucker’s nerve endings are lit anew.

“Pressure is good for pain,” Danny explains. The twinkle in his eye dares Tucker to disagree.

Tucker’s head is pounding. The butterflies have migrated from his stomach to his skull. His entire body is an inferno. The metaphors are getting all mixed up and Tucker can hardly move. Breathe. Think.

Danny edges forward by a nanometer, and his nose is practically brushing against Tucker’s cheek. He doesn’t know when Danny got so close. Tucker turns his head on instinct, and he can feel Danny’s breath skitter across his lips. An electric sensation zings down Tucker’s spine. His mouth parts ever so slightly, and the movement causes Danny’s eyes to dart down to Tucker’s lips. He can see Danny swallow, hear his shuddering breath, feel his uneven pulse where his fingers hook around Danny’s inner elbow.

Danny moves impossibly closer. Tucker is frozen, either in fear or anticipation. He’s not quite sure. For the briefest moment, Tucker thinks that Danny’s lips will meet his own. He braces himself for the brush of Danny’s chapped lips. He doesn’t know what he wants. He wants this. He wants everything. He wants nothing at all.

Suddenly, Danny pulls away, opening a vacuum between them. Tucker gasps, feeling as if he has been plunged into an ice bath. Danny seems completely nonchalant.

“This looks great, Tuck,” Danny flexes a bit, turning his arm to get a better look at his new gear. “Thanks for the power up.”

Tucker is still struggling to catch his breath. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Anytime.”

“And Tucker?” Danny peers over at him, a patient smile painted across his freckled face.

Tucker absentmindedly rubs his thumb across his lips, the ghostly memory of Danny’s breath still buzzing beneath his skin. “Yeah?”

“Let me know when you’re ready, okay?”

Tucker has never been more confused in his entire life. “When I’m ready?”

He forces himself to meet Danny’s gaze, and only to be met once more with the look.

God fucking damn it.

“Yeah. Just let me know.” Danny says softly, lovingly. “I’ll be here.”

[the-greek-mythos-project]

The Greek Mythos Project: The Submission Process

Hello everyone, Camila here! Finally have the time to actually flesh out the details of this project so here we are, with the Official Submission Process Post :). Dw, it's absolutely not as formal as the name suggests. This is mostly just a heads up on what will happen once you reach out with your submission (also... art is totally included btw. I need to put this in an official post but now that I've learned how to post art on AO3? Yeah, we're doing this 😂😂).

The Very First Step: How Do You Submit. Submission somewhat varies between whether or not you have an official account on Tumblr/want to stay completely anonymous or if you have a tumblr account you can submit to us through (although you can totally ask to stay anonymous to the general public or even just beyond me, Camila, who is currently and at this point going forward, the only one who maintains this account and therefore will see everything). Here are the two pathways to go through, separated for everyone's convenience :).

If You Don't Have Anything For Us To Communicate Back To Us Through, such as wanting to stay completely anonymous or just not having a Tumblr account, then you can just send us an anonymous ask! Of course, though, when you do this, we would like for you to acknowledge the fact that we will have no further communication with you other than public posts, and so basically when you submit your work, it's a "one and done." Yes, you can absolutely sign off a pseudo-name in your ask as something to keep track of you by and I'll explain that further later in this post, but just acknowledge and know that you're basically "dropping it off" into our hands from then on and we won't be able to offer further resources such as editing, "beta-ing", or even just asking for further clarifications of stuff :(. But! I promise to you that it's not that intimidating. Submitting things anonymously into this project will allow you to test the waters of your particular fixation and build confidence without having any strings attached and, honestly, we'll take good care of your works :). I personally am a writer of over 7 years, have been hyperfixated in Greek Mythology, and I've edited and worked with hundreds of writers over the years, scholarly or at the basic world-building levels. This is a project aimed to bring together a wide audience and just bring content to those niche writers/concepts and so, what's the big deal? We've got you <3.

If You Do Have A Tumblr Blog/Way To Communicate Back With Us, it's the exact same submission process as those without a blog. Just open up the ask box, copy and paste your submission along with any additional information you'd love to give, and send it our way :). You can tell us if you absolutely do not want to hear anything back from us or even have your name attached, or if you'd like to be connected with those similar to your interests :). Either way, the submissions are the same--via the Ask Box--but this just allows for better communication between us and you. There are two aspects of this project: getting people's work out there and building a community, and both ways of reaching out to us accomplish at least *one* goal of the two, if not both :).

The Second Step: What Happens After You Submit Your Work To Us. Well, we review it. Depending on what's going on, I and/or one of my lovely teammates will go through your work to do some basic editing and formatting work to make sure it fits Wattpad/AO3's structure along with making sure that all the triggers are correctly tagged. This is a requirement in your submission process, especially the trigger warning tagging process. As much as this is based on original writing styles, I do want to make sure we maintain a baseline level of conformity between the works as much as possible. Small things such as the space between paragraphs along with how the breaks in scenes are presented are mostly the things we'll be looking at but it'll really depend on the actual fic and it absolutely will not be on you as the writer to do this. Write it how you want to write it and we'll find a way to meet you in the closer-to-you middle :).

[Coming Soon] Here Is What We Ask For In Your Original Submission.

Optional Steps Within This In-Between Process. We provide in-depth editing, worldbuilding, and beta-ing help! Currently, as I am writing this, there are only two of us on the team--me, Camila/ @sleepdeprivationbutitsvaruna along with Leo, He/Him, @pluckedchicken --but I hope to either expand as this project develops further or we just grow comfortable in our roles. I personally specialize in developing worlds/AUs/worldbuiling while Leo has reached out to help with general editing and working with those darker AUs that I'd personally rather not touch. You can even reach out to us before you start your work! I know quite a lot of people with a diverse understanding of the myths that I can either point you to for help or I can even just do my own deep-dive search and help you out directly! This can be done based on request in the original ask submission--for those wanting to stay anonymous--or over DMing with me, my own blog, or Leo's blog. Just feel free to reach out and we'll try to help you out with anything!

The Third Step: What Happens When This Is All Published. Currently... absolutely no clue. It's only like a Month into this thing and I haven't even written the first sentence of my own submission, so this answer is really only going to come with time. Half of this post in general contains stuff that I came up with on the spot, and don't think that we (or at least I) have all the answers over here just because we have a fancy and cool blog. It's 2300 rn and I've literally written over a thousand words in one sitting while having spent the entire day luring out my motivation kitten and only managing to get it an inch closer and nowhere near out from under the bed, so. Yeah. We're figuring it out over here too.

As for a literal answer to this very real question: my current thoughts is that, at some point in the sooner or later stages (probably when I get the "What We Ask For In Your Original Submission" post posted), we'll come up with a general template to go off of, showing the submitter's name, socials, where to find them, additional information they want to give, author's notes, TWs, etc. in an easy-to-navigate way for both us and the reader.

[septimaseverinawannawrite]

Don't Leave Me Here

Changing format and style, because I want to keep my motivation strong. 💪👁👄👁

Fandom: Star Wars

Request: Nope. This is the very self-indulgent one shot.

Pairing: Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Summaries: Battle of Scariff brings hope to the Galaxy and the Rebels, but what about the Rogue One's crews, especially with your long-time-crush, Captain Andor.

Contents: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Mutual pining, Friends to lovers, Soft Cassian, Love confessing, Idiots in love.

Warning: Angst. Describing of Injuries, blood, pain and death. Crying. Anxiety. Cliché plot. Writer is being too over emotional and regret nothing.

Rate: M for melodrama

Words: 2,285

A/N: Alternate version of Rouge One 2016's ending. Because I had realised that I didn't write my own. Also, feel a little bit sad, because 2024 is feeling like eternity. But I'm gonna write Cassian's fix-it fan fictions, until I can't write. English is my second Language, please feel free to correct me, and let me know if I miss any CW+TW. Enjoy Reading 😊

🌹Click to My AO3

Death Star Plan was successfully stolen. The battle at Scariff had been considered as a big victory for rebellions. Everyone who stayed at Yavin IV was cheering and crying with joy. Some systems, even, officially declared independents over the Empire’s sovereign right there. Some systems, which tended to give up before, decided to maintain alliances. The spark of flame was reigniting again. The light at the end of the darkest tunnel was like a new dawn — hope.

But it just was at the very first minutes, when the Plan completely broadcast. The Rogue One crews returned with survivors – were not long enough after the battle ended – but mostly were casualties. All Medbay turned into a big, chaotic area; doctors, nurses, medical staffs, and medical droids managed to diagnose every crew’s condition from the worst to ‘nothing much to worry about’.

And the worst, whose state was severe, was Captain Cassian Andor. Y/N’s one of her old and good friends, since she had joined the Rebellions in the first month.

Cassian was a mystery (some even said he was scary), moody, tense and taciturn on the outside – for almost everybody on Yavin IV Base. Actually, he was not. He had a strange humour and points of views toward life, also knowledges in many fields which attracted his team, many women on the base, and Y/N.

As the volunteer at Medbay – after hearing there were survivors – Y/N ran and helped the staffs as much as her strength allowed. First time she saw Cassian, he was covered by blood and wounds, while she was pasting Bacta gel on a supporting crew. She didn’t spare a time to visit him, she must stay outside – standing by. When she finished all the tasks, she noticed that a doctor and assistances had taken care of Cassian already. She was about to visit him in a patient room, but it was forbidden.

Few hours later, the Rebellion Alliances had received the news; Princess Leia was being held in custody by the Empire. Was anything worst happened to the Alliances right now?    

Three days had passed by, Y/N had switched to the ‘autopilot’ mode on working in her station, doing routine. Thanks to all the works which kept her busy until resting time, they also made her forgot what she had dreamt in her sleeping.

On the fourth day, main crews on the cargo ship gradually came to consciousness. Y/N’s good friend at Medbay told her that late morning. She immediately visited them and listening to the incident near the broadcasting tower on Scariff.

Jyn told Y/N everything which Cassian did. She even encouraged her to hold tight on the hope. Chirrut said the force had been staying with Cassian, and the force always worked in many surprising ways. Moreover, the medical staffs allowed everyone, whoever cared about Cassian, to visit him. He was getting much better now, but still unconscious.

She didn’t want to dig up those memories of him being covered by blood and wounds four days ago. Nevertheless, she shook them out, made up her mind, and deciding to see him. Maybe Jyn and Chirrut were right.

            Y/N exited her station to the room where Cassian was placed. She noticed the one and only re-programming Imperial droid on Yavin IV. He stood and starred through the window, seem like he hoped his Captain was waking soon.

“Y/N.” K2SO greeted, “I have calculated the possible that you are going to visit Cassian today, the percentage is…”

“Don’t tell me.” She cut the droid. “Let me go inside without your statistic. My head is aching enough.”

Keying a code, going inside, she cursed herself for being rude to K2SO. Somehow, after visiting Cassian – she would apologise to the droid – since she had forgotten his good intention, underneath the sarcasm.

As Y/N approached the bed, all Cassian’s blood and wounds were cleansed. BPM pulse and body temperature had not become normal yet. He would not wake up within two or three days, according to the report. Numerous I.V.s were still plugging into his veins, also a bandage on his torso.

Y/N sat on a chair beside the bed, examining Cassian’s state closely while she tried to hold back her tears, but it was failed. She could not help herself. All tears ran down her cheeks like a great flood. Four days and three nights felt like months. She let vulnerability got her by sobbing uncontrollably, started talking to him and wishing he could hear;

“Cassian, I know you are willingly to do anything for the Rebellion. I’m really proud. But why do you always run into suicide missions?” Her voice was depressed. “Sometimes, you don’t have to prove that you are one of the best rebel spies by destroying yourself. Mon Mothma and many commanders speak of you highly… even princess Leia…”

Tears still ran down, while she was reaching for his hand, biting lower lip and shook her head.

“I survived the first month because of your helps. You introduce me to many things I know just a bit or haven’t known before, so I can fit in. When I feel down, blue, even black, you cheer me up with your eccentric jokes – and if you are out for a mission, you always say goodbye… this time… you don’t even give me a chance…”

Y/N recalled what was happening when Rogue One recklessly leaved for Scariff, after most allies and commanders objected. She was there. When the meeting ended, she sought Cassian or whoever in his unit. Too late. They had gone.

“I want to blame my stupid brain for bringing the pain that I do not desire to feel. That isn’t a reason. Those words in my mind – I wish I could tell you, after all of these years…” Y/N softly squeezed his hand “Since here we are, only you and me. When you wake up, we are going to be the same. It’s now or never.”

She paused for seconds, took one deep breath, and let all her feels breaking control.

“I love you, Cassian. More than a good friend. I love you with all my heart, my soul, my breath, and my entire existence. You are the one. Every time you come back, I just don’t want to hug you – I want to kiss you like there’s no tomorrow, jumping into you, embracing you in my arms……”

            Y/N kept confessing her feelings toward Cassian until she recognised she was going to weep again. She stopped, stood up, leaned forward to kiss Cassian’s forehead gently, and whispered before leaving.

“Just don’t leave me here…”

            She dried her eyes, leaved Cassian behind, and repressing the desire to look at him again. As she exited, K2SO still had been on the spot. She sighed, walking toward the droid.

“I’m sorry Kay. I shouldn’t say such things. Well, I don’t have any excuse.”

“At least you didn’t hit me. I don’t expect anything. I have calculated, there is a high chance that you’re going to apologise. So, I forgive you.”

Y/N could swear to Kriff that K2SO mentally shrugged, judging by his tone. She crossed her arms and faking a smile.

“Then we’re even.” Looking on the floor, she gazed up at K2SO again. “Tell me, have you calculated when Captain Andor is going to wake up?”

“I did, but I think you don’t need it anymore.”

She raised her eyebrows. The droid did say nothing, just looked into the room. She followed suit, shook her head, and suddenly rushing inside.

Cassian opened his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he glanced around. The last thing he remembered – before everything turning black – was K2SO and Jyn helping him into an escape pod, also thinking about Y/N and regretting that he had not bid a proper farewell yet. And how the Kriff he could be here now, at the medical section on Rebelli—

“Maker!” she exclaimed, stopping him from the train of thought – While she was restraining herself from hugging him.

Cassian swore in his native tongue. Unbelievably, his eyes might be deceiving him – Y/N was here – impossible. This place could be wherever the creatures went after the death.

“No, this isn’t true. Scariff was destroyed by the Death Star… You can’t be here.”

Y/N wanted to punch him in the face, but it could send him back to the unconsciousness again. She tried to keep calm, but instead, her tears explode again.

“Don’t you dare say such a thing—”

His mouth was gaping a little, looking downward at his own body. His torso and his head still hurt. He felt everything which plugged on his arm, thinking backward – moreover, before he could open his eye – he could hear Y/N said something… about the relationship, and love. Especially what he had been holding on for a long time, the same thing she had blurted out. He thought they were an illusion.

He sat up, his back and his bone were cracking loudly. He breathed deeply, restraining all the agony. Y/N supported him; holding his upper body and adjusting pillows.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He paused, as she was sitting beside the bed, “This mission is important. We must do it fast. That fucking weapon is too dangerous… like I’ve told you before, if we waited for permission, the Empire could be a hundred steps ahead…”

“No hard feelings. You survive, wake up and healing. The Empire is going to fall. Those are all I want.”  

Seeing Y/N sniffed, sobbed and looked down at the floor, Cassian’s eyes were softer than ever. He reached out to take her hand, that grab an edge of the bed, caressing it gently.

“Please don’t cry. Kay tells me once that tears can drain oneself, and… You deserve all happiness in the galaxy.”

She gazed into his eyes. Perplexing spread on her pale face.

“What Kay’s randomly statistic has to do with my happiness?”

Cassian sighed quietly. Smiling, he whispered in Kenari, decided to speak all his heart out.

“Come sitting here.” He patted a space on the mattress. Although she was still dazing, she consented. Here, it was closer than ever, every time they interacted.

“Your happiness is my happiness. Your pain is my pain.”

She gasped. Something was dawning in her mind, but he still kept continuing;

“I thought I was dead or dreaming. It is not. I hear what you have said. I feel all the things you have done. I’m not going to leave you here anymore. I love you, Y/N; with all my heart, my breath, my soul, and my entire existence.”

“Cass…”

“Please don’t leave me here, too.”

His voice was filled with pleading and the utmost longing. His eyes had not brightened yet, but they were brighter than ever – before he disappeared as the council was dismissing.

“I’m not gonna leave you. Ever.”

All the affectionate and things which left unsaid within their eyes were exploding. Her lips were parted – trying to reply – but his hand slowly moving to her face. Caressing it tenderly and trailing downward from her cheek to her chin, he tugged her weave behind her ear. Cassian and Y/N could feel their breaths upon their own skins. Their eyes were exchanging feeling from through all of these years, as she put her hand on his shoulder.

Cassian didn’t hesitate. He leaned in to capture Y/N lips softly. It was like a butterfly pecking on flowers, an index finger touching a velvet cloth. They paused for seconds to catch the breath. She sensed that the temperature in this room was rising and warmer than before.

“I won’t do this again…” He whispered, looked into her eyes and circling his thumbs over her cheek and her hand.

“You don’t have to…”

“I’m not gonna be reckless. I will ask Mon Mothma and other commanders for table-work. More time on base, less time t—”

Y/N sealed Cassian’s mouth with her lips, lightly pushing him back on pillows. His eyes were widening, but he grinned while kissing her back. His hand on hers moved from to the back of her neck, gradually pulling her down to deepen the passionate kiss.

“There is ninety-nine per cent that Y/N is gonna kiss you like this, Cassian.”

Y/N was abruptly jumping back to a chair. She almost fell from a sickbed, as she heard K2SO’s voice. Cassian, also the same, but he gripped a metal beside tightly enough.

“Kay!” Cassian hissed the Droid, who was standing near infirmary’s trolleys.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have disturbed you both, since you have always wished the scenario like this, should I?”

“Go visiting others.” He ordered. The droid did as he was told – turned around and walking out. Both Cassian and Y/N heard K2SO talking to himself, distinctly, like the droid wanted them to hear.

“Humans are such the peculiar life-forms. I will ask technicians on loading how to understand the humankind programme.”

“Maybe I will tell the technicians to not upload that.”

Cassian sighed loudly, shook his head, and turning to Y/N for opinion. But what he saw was she had been covering her face with her hands in shyness.

“No, I’m gonna tell them myself.”

Cassian joyfully laughed. She still sat and posing as the same. If his eyes were not deceived him, he saw the redness on her temple, her ears, and her neck.

“I should tell you how I feel earlier. But, it's okay, you are lovely when you are like this.”

“Stop it.” She glanced and swiftly pressing the comm, calling a doctor, before Cassian could tease her more.

At the point, she didn’t doubt why K2SO just being K2SO. Because the one who had reprogrammed this imperial droid was just the same as him.

Thank you for reading Your likes, comments and rebloggings are appreciated! 🥰🥰🥰

[script-a-world]

Is tumblr an ok-ish place to just like, info dump about my world and it’s lore, or is there a better place I could do it?

Tex: You can put anything on tumblr so long as you don’t violate the Terms of Service - I’ve seen moodboards, essays, sketches, stories, bullet point lists, gif sets, audio clip compilations, and pretty much anything that the various posting formats can support.

It’s not necessarily something like a catch-all or one-size-fits-all, but I think it helps to think of various websites as boxes with different utilities, much in the same theme as scrapbooking parts. For example, tumblr supports images well, Archive of Our Own (AO3) supports text well, and have the shared similarity of ability to tag posts or works for organizational purposes.

The internet is one, very useful, format to worldbuild, because it has the ability to utilize tools such as hyperlinking and digital archiving. In a previous post, there is a detail about how to organize a digital file structure for one’s worldbuilding to keep track of things, available here. One practice I have noticed among some worldbuilders is the blend of digital and physical spaces; or rather, online and offline.

Offline digital worldbuilding is such things as word documents, saved images, and programs that perform the function of notebooks that don’t require internet access and/or an internet browser. This is frequently supplemented by personal archiving habits, such as a dedicated peripheral drive like a USB, and regularly copying over digital files onto that device whenever significant changes are made or else on a schedule. This is useful for happenstance events like computer failure, websites going defunct, or related issues.

Offline physical worldbuilding is such things as notebooks, drawings or paintings, boxes of ephemera, scrapbooks, and physical copies of the canon media (if the worldbuilding has its roots in fandom). This can include CDs, DVDs, photos, and craft items such as textiles or sculptures. For people that have had difficulties in maintaining digital records in particular, physical copies are often a good method of maintaining linearity of thought - i.e. printing out a Google Doc and putting that into a folder.

Because there’s so many different medias and platforms you can use for worldbuilding, it’s more a matter of which suits you best and for which purpose. Tumblr is a useful component of a worldbuilding methodology portfolio because of its capability to create dedicated posts that can be mixed media, tagged, and archived if one wishes it. As of this time of posting, users cannot currently download an individual post, but it’s impossible to predict a website’s roadmap as it adapts to the changing needs of digital spaces.

One thing I would note is that tumblr need not be engagement driven, in the same way other online spaces tend to be (e.g. twitter). You can make a blog, add restrictions in the form of locking viewing to only logged-in users or adding a password to view the blog, and with the recent update (as of this posting), users can also toggle preferences on how public a post is and also ability for others to reblog a post.

If you’re looking for engagement, this is fuelled by reblogs, which generally depends on the blogs that you follow and interact with, usually by reblogging their posts and also by talking to them. That is, however, a subject of micro-cultures and subcultures therein, which becomes a little bit off-subject to your question and not really within our domain.

[thunderwavesolveseverything]

Let Your Sleeping Soul Take Flight

[Astarion x Named Tav]

“Thank you... for coming to my rescue,” Phayelynn whispered, Astarion felt the urge to scoff, to maintain his usual facade of detached amusement, but he found himself rooted to the spot, disarmed by the simple act of kindness. “You’re welcome,” he found himself saying, his voice softer than he intended. After Phayelynn’s eyes had been closed for a few minutes, Astarion’s hand instinctively reached out, his fingertips barely grazing her cheek in a tender caress. But as quickly as the impulse came, doubt crept in, and he withdrew his hand, letting it fall back to his side. What was happening to him?

(word count: 3,570)

Soooo some changes....I'm going to start only posting the full chapters on AO3 because it's just easier for me to post it all together that way versus there then also here. I also just like the formatting better. I also kinda want to use this just for pictures and other posts instead. I'll still keep the Master list up here, updating it'll just link to the chapter on AO3 instead! Thanks, everyone 💜💜💜

[princeescaluswords]

At this point, you should just compile everything you know about Teen Wolf (especially if my bby boy Scott is in the spotlight) into one BIG FILE OF GOOGLE DRIVE FOLDER and give them a link since they keep repeating the same thing over and over and over again.

And hey, I don't mind helping you compiling the stuff like same repeating/similar sounding asks, your old responses, transcripts and screenshot of proofs if you eventually do it. I feel bad for you and other Scott Defenders since I've followed you for a loooooong time and facepalming at the TW asks every now and then

Thank you for your compliments and your very kind offer, but I have actually been playing around with putting all the writing about Teen Wolf to a different use. I am in the "can I do this? should I do this?" phase, but I'm thinking of writing something off Tumblr for publication, using the work I've done here as a basis.

The book -- if it is a book and not an article or some other format and if it ever gets written -- will have three premises, which may or may not be sustained by the evidence I can gather.

Teen Wolf, its reception, and its fandom is an artifact of modern white culture (and not in a positive way). Foucauldian power dynamics and United-States-inspired consumerism have combined to empower and provide cover for a racist audience response that was hostile to a narrative focusing on a character of color over the course of the series and the movie.

The show's treatment is an example of how fandom culture has been enabled by Internet sites such as Tumblr, Twitter, AO3, and YouTube to somehow disguise their aggressive pursuit of decadent bourgeois values as revolutionary freedom from those same exact values. "Transformational fandom" has become all about making things palatable for a mainstream white culture that likes to flirt with the forbidden.

For the production, the fandom's hostility and its aggressive behavior turned out not to be a bug, but a feature. In other words, certain choices in casting and plot may have been not just simple fan service, but fan service designed to provoke fandom racism in a way that would maintain interest in the production. After all, any sort of attention is better than none.

Of course, this whole idea of mine is in its earliest stages of writing. The thing about non-fiction writing is sometimes a great hypothesis turns out to be wrong. It will require research and a publisher. But that's where I'm at right now.

As an aside, it was inspired by three things. First, was the incredible hostility to the movie by the fandom before the movie even premiered. The intensity of that hatred for a follow-up movie for a television show which hadn't been on for five years is unique and worth exploring. Second, there was a quote from Tyler Posey about how, when they first started filming Teen Wolf, Jeff Davis told him how his ethnicity would help the production. The quote didn't contain any further elaboration, but, obviously, from the result, Davis wasn't counting on what rightists would call "woke points." Finally, there was a direct quote from Jeff Davis about how the writer's room had determined Mason Hewitt was "too good" to suffer consequences of being host for the Beast. I've always hated that statement for its obvious intersection with racism and ableism.

It does occur to me that perhaps this wasn't just a confluence of random events that created this specific fandom phenomenon. Perhaps Jeff Davis and the production staff noted this aspect of fandom culture and had a strategy for integrating it into the show. I would never say that they meant for the hostile interpretation of characters of color to be taken as true -- it's obviously not -- but I might want to explore if they didn't promote the hostility in a way designed to enhanced the show's reception.

Again, I'm at the very beginning of the process. Your question pushed me farther down the road.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Descendants OC Masterlist A-K

( L - Z )

Name: Ace Hearts

Story: Long Live the Queen

Parents: Queen Of Hearts

Face claim: Curran Walters

Love interest: Evie

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Ace Hearts was perfectly content with being his sister’s left hand man.  He'd wanted to help her run the isle since long before she’d ever dreamt of doing such a thing.  Being her enforcer, her advisor, her defender in her reign was all he’d ever wanted.  There shouldn’t have been any problem.  Only, there was.  Ace wanted more.  Specifically, he wanted a certain blue haired princess who’d devoted herself to good and to saving the children of the Isle.  But as the changing tides in Auradon start to reflect back onto the Isle, Ace finds he might have to make a choice. 

Name: Princess Ada

Story: Untitled

Parents: Adam

Face claim: Sadie Soverall

Summary: Auradon didn’t hold much value for second born royals, least of all girls.  Princess Adelaide knew that her life had been planned from the day she was born; that she would spend her childhood learning to be a proper princess, attend high school at Auradon Prep, and within a year of her eighteenth birthday she would be married to Chad Charming.  She had accepted it all.  Her lessons were boring but endurable, she had wonderful friends at Auradon Prep, and Chad was her best friend.  She knew better than to expect anything more out of life.

But when Ben brings a group of kids over from the Isle, Ada finds herself wondering if there isn’t a life for her beyond the borders of Auradon; a life where she can make her own path instead of following the one that was mapped out for her.  A path that leads her right to a certain pirate with an accent to die for, and to a discovery about herself that may change the future of the entire kingdom of Auradon.

Name: Princess Addie

Story: Untitled

Parents: Belle & Adam

Face claim: Liana Liberato

Name: Alina Romanova

Story: Untitled

Parents: Anastasia Romanov & Dimitri

Face claim: Maude Apatow

Name: Anissa Radcliffe

Story: Ties That Bind

Parents: Anita & Roger Radcliffe

Face claim: Maia Mitchell

Love Interest: Ben; Aziz

Summary: Anissa Radcliffe had a plan.  Well, Anissa, Sloane, and Kyra had a plan to fix the horrific oversights surrounding the isle, but Anissa had smaller, more achievable plans.  Keep her siblings in line.  Maintain perfect grades and excel in her many extracurriculars.  Get Carlos De Vil off the isle come hell or high water.  Although his mother had lost her mind, Cruella De Vil had once been a dear friend and mentor to Anissa’s own mother, and in another world, she and Carlos may have grown up as family.  As Ben’s coronation approaches, several of her plans are falling into place, but no matter what, Anissa will not lose sight of the most important plan of all: protect Carlos De Vil.  From the isle.  From his mother.  From Auradon.  From himself.

Name: Arden Of DunBroch

Story: A Change Of Fate

Parents: Merida

Face claim:  Hailee Steinfeld

Name: Atalia of Atlantica

Story: Untitled

Parents: Attina

Face claim: Madelyn Cline

Name: Avalon Le Fay

Story: King and Lionheart

AO3 | FFNet | Wattpad

Parents: Merlin & Morgana Le Fay

Face claim:  Emma Dumont

Love interest: Jay; eventual Jay & Harry

Summary: Nimue, daughter of Arthur and Gwen, and Avalon Le Fay, daughter or Merlin and Morgana, had always been thick as thieves, and had always been ready to declare war on Auradon.  Ever since the formation of the Isle, King Adam and the Fairy Godmother had been insisting that Morgana was still a villain, and therefore belonged on the Isle, and once Avalon was born, she agreed–so long as her daughter could stay in Camelot.  When Arthur was killed barely a year later, Merlin and Gwen partnered up to raise their daughters and run a kingdom, until the girls would be old enough to do so themselves.  Of course Auradon never trusted the one kingdom that refused to unite, and insisted that the girls be sent to Auradon prep, and so they went–reluctant as could be.  Everything was fine, mostly–the other princesses looked down on Nimue’s love of swordfighting, and Avalon was never seen as anything but a villain kid, but they still had each other.  They could tolerate it all, biding their time.  But at sixteen years of age, everything they’d ever planned gets thrown for a loop when it’s declared that four children from the Isle would be moving to Auradon.

Nimue belongs to @seaweedhufflepuffocs​

Name: Beatrice

Story: Ever Just As Sure (As The Sun Will Rise)

Parents: The Beast & The Enchantress

Faceclaim: Taissa Farmiga

Summary: If King Adam had known the price of banishing magic from Auradon, he might have reconsidered.  But the former Beast was a stubborn man who refused to heed any warnings, and it had backfired.  He hadn’t known that banishing all magic would rip the last remains of the Enchantress’ curse from his veins, hadn’t known that the magic would redirect itself into the Enchantress, and he certainly hadn’t known that it would lead to the immediate birth of his firstborn child.  But it had.  And while he had no qualms about sending the Enchantress to the Isle, the queen had refused to send her stepdaughter, and so Princess Beatrice had been raised in Auradon alongside her younger brother.  She knew the truth about her birth, and she knew that her father hated her with every fibre of his being, but she didn’t care.  What she did care about was Ben’s decision to bring children from the Isle to Auradon - children that could have been her, had Belle not stepped in - and proving to her father, once and for all, that her generation is something more than just the children of heroes and villains, that they can be their own people and make their own choices.  And maybe the children of the four baddest villains are the perfect people to help her with that plan.

Name: Bessie Sawyer

Story: Untitled

Parents: Becky Thatcher & Tom Sawyer

Face claim:  Saorise Ronan

Name: Blossom

Story: Faith, Trust (And A Little Pixie Dust)

Parents: N/A

Faceclaim:  Bailee Madison

Love Interest: Ben

Summary: When a baby laughs for the first time, a new fairy is born.  When Prince Benjamin Florian laughed for the first time, Blossom was born.  From that day forth, the prince and his fairy were inseparable. The citizens of Auradon always said that their rulers had given them both a prince and a princess when Ben was born, and Blossom was beloved by the kingdom.  But when Ben brings four villain children to Auradon, Blossom is afraid.  Afraid for her kingdom, afraid for her safety, and afraid for her prince.  She is Ben’s fairy, she has to protect him at all costs; she has to do whatever it takes to make sure that Ben’s first action as king is a success, even if it means saving the VKs from themselves.  Even if it means breaking her own heart.

Name: Callista Gainey

Story: Untitled

Parents: Cassandra

Face claim: Lulu Antariksa 

Name: Chessy Of Arendelle

Story: All Is Found

Parents: Redacted / Anna & Kristoff

Face claim: Mackenzie Foy

Love Interest: Ben

Summary: Chessy of Arendelle had never once doubted how loved she was.  She knew how much her parents loved her, the newborn infant they’d found miraculously still alive in the snow outside of their castle.  They’d chosen her, had brought her home and raised her as their own, the crown princess of Arendelle.  Her aunt loved her, her kingdom loved her, and her best friend, Crown Prince Ben of Auradon loved her.  That was enough for her.  That was more than enough for her.  But… the mystery.  Not knowing who she was, where she came from.  The answers that seemed to slip further out of reach every time she thought she’d come close to understanding.  Chessy didn’t need a family that hadn’t wanted her, she didn’t need to be anyone more than who she already was.  But she did need to know who she could have been.

Name: Chiara Potts

Story: Certain As The Sun (Rising In The East)

Parents: Chip Potts & Redacted

Faceclaim:  Danielle Rose Russell

Love Interest: Ben & Evie

Summary: Chiara Potts is as far from a princess as you can get - well, unless you ask Cinderella.  She’s the daughter of a servant, and the granddaughter of a servant.  And she herself is a servant.  Granted, they don’t call her that, but Chiara is only the latest in the long line of Potts’ to serve the royal family.  Still, despite being his chief of staff and majordomo, Ben is her best friend.  And yes, maybe her job is the reason that they’re inseparable, but they still are.  So of course, Chiara is the first person to know about his plans to bring Villain Kids to Auradon.  She’s also the first person to defend his idea, and the person that he asks to help them settle in.  But when Chiara overhears their plans, she has to decide - will she try to change their minds and prove Ben right to all of Auradon, or will she have to go against him - and what will that cost her?

Name: Chryseis

Story: We Could Be Immortals (Just Not For Long)

Parents: Poseison

Faceclaim:  Holland Roden

Summary: Poseidon isn’t a hero.  He’s a god, yes, but not a hero.  His granddaughter Ariel is a hero, his nephew Hercules is a hero, but Poseidon is not a hero.  So no one is really sure why his youngest daughter has just started at Auradon Prep, only days after Ben announced the impending arrival of four villain kids.  But Chryseis knows.  Mal, daughter of Maleficent, is also the daughter of Hades, and the Olympians are afraid.  And Chryseis, only sixteen and still learning to be a goddess, is the only person who can find out her intentions, the only person who can stop her from potentially destroying Olympus.

Name: Cian Hearts

Story: Lavender Haze

Parents: Queen Of Hearts

Face claim: Gavin Leatherwood

Love Interest: Violet Kingsleigh

Summary: Cian Hearts didn’t hate Auradon.  No, to hate Auradon would suggest that he cared, and he didn’t.  He cared about surviving, about maintaining his mother’s territory and protecting his people, not about Auradon.  Nor, to his mother’s displeasure, about Wonderland.  Neither would help him live to see another day, so neither warranted a second thought on his part.  Or so he believed, until he received an invitation – a royal summons, if you asked him – to attend Auradon Prep along with four others from the isle.  With no real say in the matter, Cian packs up his life and crosses the barrier, determined to keep his head down – and attached to his neck – until Prince Ben gave up on his foolish plan.  Unfortunately, the king-to-be forgot to mention that they would be starting school with one more transfer student: Violet Kingsleigh, heir to Wonderland and daughter of his mother’s sworn nemesis.

Name: Cosette Bellefleur

Series: Lust For Life

Story: Darling, Darling; Doll Face; Cherry

Parents: Claudette Bellefleur

Face claim: Lily Rose Depp

Love Interest: Gaston; Prince Ben; Prince Chad; Henry Turner

Summary: On the Isle Of The Lost, survival was a simple matter of strength and power. Cosette Bellefleur knew that she would never have the strength, so instead she focused on the power. Sharpening her own skillset, Cosette earned herself the protection of the strongest of the strong: Gaston. And while she may have had her flirtations and her flings, at the end of the day, Cosette belonged to Gaston, and his strength belonged to her. It was the perfect system.

But when Prince Ben, soon to be King Ben, makes his first royal proclamation, everything changes. In a fit of what he undoubtedly considered fairytale-level kindness, five children of villains would be brought to Auradon, and Cosette would be one of them. It made sense, of course, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant for her. Ripped away from her friends and lovers, from her home, and from her protector, Cosette would have no one to rely on but Mal’s crew, and there was certainly no lost love there.

But when her unwilling allies need a way to get close to the prince, Cosette may just find a way to ensure their loyalty and secure herself a new protector all in one fell swoop.

Name: Eliane

Story: Into The Unknown

Parents: Redacted

Face claim: Abigail Cowen

Love Interest: Harry Hook

Name: Elise Charming

Story: Enchanted

Parents: Prince Charming & Cinderella

Face claim:  Sabrina Carpenter

Love interest: Evie; Ben & Evie

Summary: Princess Elizabeth Victoria Isabelle Katherine Grace Regina Alexandria James – more affectionately known as Elise Charming – had been raised on one simple lesson.  Have courage and be kind.  And for sixteen years, she had lived by those words.  Alongside her twin brother Chad and their best friends Ben and Audrey, Elise had been picture perfect royalty. The four of them were perfectly sweet, perfectly charming, perfectly… well, perfectly perfect.  But when Ben, weeks away from his coronation, decides to bring over four Villain Kids from the Isle of the Lost, their perfect group falls apart.  Elise is sure that they can get through it, that they can hold their heads high and rebuild their perfect friendship, and that everything will be okay.  And then the Villain Kids arrive in Auradon, and the most beautiful girl in the world steps out of the limousine.

Name: Evander Grimhilde

Story: Untitled

Parents: Evil Queen & King Richard

Face claim:  Taylor Zakhar Perez

Love interest: Topher Charming

Summary: Evander Grimhilde was highly aware of the fact that his life was not normal, even for the isle of the lost.  Mostly, he knew, it was because he was the first child born on the Isle.  The blueprint, the model, the test subject.  He was born before the villains had the idea to use their children as soldiers to defend their turf, before they decided that survival and gaining power was more important than planning for getting off the Isle.  No, where his kids — and they were; every child on the Isle was his.  His to protect, his to raise, his to love the way their parents never were — were raised to be their parents’ henchmen, Evander was raised to be king.  He learned history and finances, potions alongside politics, everything there was to know about the United Kingdom of Auradon and every kingdom within it.  Evander was as qualified to be a king as anyone could hope to be, except for one teensy tiny little detail: he still lived on the Isle.

At least until Prince Ben turned 16 and made his very first proclamation as king — to bring five children from the Isle to Auradon.  His sister, her crew, and Evander himself.  With his kingdom finally within reach, Evander’s destiny is finally within his reach.  The only problem is that Evander isn’t actually sure if he wants his destiny; especially once he meets Topher Charming.

Name: Finley Rider

Story: Stolen Heart

Parents: Rapunzel and Flynn Rider

Face claim: Virginia Gardner

Love interest: past Ben; Jay; eventual Ben & Jay

Summary: Finley Rider – Princess Finley Fitzherbert – was all set to live a fairytale life.  She was the heir to the throne of Corona, her parents’ pride and joy, and betrothed to her best friend, Prince Benjamin.  But when a ten year old Finley gets bored at a museum gala and decides to see how many artifacts she can lift without getting noticed, everything changes. When the Beast King catches her stealing Jafar’s staff, he loses his temper.  The child is sent to the Isle, Corona breaks ties with Auradon, and Ben loses his best friend.  

On her first day on the Isle, Finley gets caught stealing a bracelet off of Lady Tremaine.  But rather than tell the woman, the boy introduces himself as Jay, son of Jafar, and offers Finley a partnership.  Their alliance soon grows into a friendship, and Jay introduces Finley to the other VKs, bringing her into their team.  The five of them rule the island with ease, causing trouble wherever they go.  It isn’t perfect, but Finley has learned to move on from Corona, and from Auradon.  So of course, that’s when Prince Ben makes his first royal proclamation; bringing children of the Isle to Auradon.  The daughter of Maleficent, the son of Jafar, the daughter of the Evil Queen, and the son of Cruella De Vil.  And the princess of Corona.

Name: Fraser Fitzherbret / Fitz Rider

Story: Stolen Heart

Parents: Rapunzel and Flynn Rider

Face claim: Matt Cornett

Love interest: Harry Hook; TBD

Name: Gloria Gothel

Story: Mother Knows Best

Parents: Mother Gothel

Face claim: Melissa Barrera

Summary: Gloria Gothel didn’t care about politics.  Not on the isle, not in Auradon.  She didn’t care about running the biggest turf, about having the strongest crew, she only cared about survival.  She had gotten it wrong once, had made the rookie mistake of getting attached to other people, of caring about something beyond covering her own ass, but it was a mistake that she would never make again.  But when an invitation comes for her to go to Auradon along with Maleficent’s daughter and her crew, Gloria finds herself at a crossroads.  Once again she has a choice to make, between looking out for her own self interest or taking care of the family she’d never meant to find.

Name: Griffin

Story: Untitled

Parents: Grumpy

Face claim: Joshua Bassett

Name: Halle Finn

Story: Untitled

Parents: Huckleberry Finn

Face claim: Kathryn Newton

Name: Hannah Westergaard

Story: Don’t Blame Me

Parents: Hans Westergaard

Face claim: Kat McNamara

Summary: As far as children of the Isle went, Hannah Westergaard was pretty standard.  Abusive father, no known mother, and no special talents of abilities whatsoever.  As much as she hates to admit it, she’s boring by the Isle’s standards, so why on earth is Prince Ben inviting her to Auradon?  And more importantly, why does it seem like maybe she isn’t quite as boring as she’s been lead to believe?

Name: Harley Hook

Story: Lost Girl

Parents: Captain Hook

Face claim:  India Eisley

Love interest: Jay; possible endgame Jay & Gil

Summary: Harley Hook was a pirate, through and through.  Always at her brother’s side, always with Uma and the crew, always near her beloved Gil, Harley Hook was a pirate.  And as a pirate, she absolutely hated Mal’s gang.  They thought that they were so much better than anyone, just because of Mal’s mom - big whoop, it’s not like Maleficent could even use magic on the Isle.  So yeah, Harley hated the VKs, her loyalty was to the crew, and she was never seen away from Harry or Gil.  And then the princeling decides to bring children of some of the worst villains to Auradon: Mal, Evie, Jay, Carlos.  And Harley.  Harley couldn’t be more furious at being taken away from her crew, or at being sent to Auradon, or at being forced to work with the VKs to get Fairy Godmother’s wand.  But she knows that if she wants to get back to the Isle, back to her family, she needs that barrier down as much as they do.  She’s just not sure that they can cooperate long enough for that.

Name: Harmony Of Atlantica

Story: Carved Out Of The Sea

Parents: Ariel & Prince Eric

Face claim:  Kaya Scodelario

Love interest: Harry Hook

Summary: Princess Harmony was a youngest child’s youngest child, she knew that she would never be anything special.  Her mom was Ariel, and her sister Melody had united their parents’ kingdoms.  Harmony was nothing in comparison.  So Harmony went on her own adventures, swimming as far as she could and discovering the wonders of the world outside of Atlantis.  She’d heard of the Isle of the Lost of course, everyone had, but she never planned on finding it.  She never planned on swimming through the barrier, or on finding out that she would no longer be able to turn into a mermaid when she did, or on never being able to swim back across.  And so, Harmony grew up on the Isle along with the children of the villains.  She befriended pirates and princesses and everything in between, and she almost forgot about life in Atlantis.  And then the future king summons four of the children of the Isle to Auradon, and Harmony knows that she has to seize her only chance at returning to her home, even if it means leaving behind her partner - in crime and in love - Harry Hook.

Name: Hayden

Story: Dying Is An Art

Parents: Hades & Maleficent

Face claim: Jenny Boyd

Summary: Hayden was raised by Hades, knowing full well who her mother - and sister - was.  But Mal doesn’t know about her.  So for most of her life, Hayden hid.  She hid away in her dad’s cave and had very few friends.  And then Prince Ben summons five Villain Kids to Auradon - the son of Jafar, the son of Cruella De Vil, the daughter of the Evil Queen, the daughter of Maleficent, and the daughter of Hades.  But only Hayden knows the truth.  And now she has to keep her secret, and try to stop her sister and her friends from stealing the wand, but she might have to choose between her two missions.

Name: Helena

Story: Long Live the Queen

Parents: Hades & Persephone

Face claim:  Teagan Croft

Love interest: Queenie Hearts

Summary:  Living on the Isle wasn’t easy, but there was something particularly difficult about it for a goddess.  Her dad couldn’t be kept on the Isle–they’d tried, no one died anymore, he was allowed to return to the Underworld. But when Helena was born, she was cast away to join the rest of the Villains and their children, forced to fend for herself.  Being a goddess had its advantages too, she was able to survive and rise up with no problem.  Soon she was the right hand to the newest queen, and hell would freeze before she let anyone take that away from them.

Name: Hero

Story: Untitled

Parents: Hercules & Megara

Face claim: Rachel Zegler

Name: Honey La Bouff

Story: Impossible Dreams

AO3 | Wattpad

Parents: Lottie LaBouff

Face claim: Meg Donnelly

Love interest: Ben & Chad

Summary: As if being raised by a single mother, with a father who passed away before she was born, didn’t make her enough of an oddity, Honey La Bouff was one of the only students at Auradon Prep who wasn’t the child of a prince, princess, or hero.  But despite being looked down on by most of the student body, Honey was best friends with the two most popular boys in school; Prince Ben and Chad Charming.  Honey and Chad had always seen it as their responsibility to look out for their more naïve best friend, and when Ben decides to bring five Villain Kids to Auradon – a decision that both Honey and Chad had been pushing for since they were still in their single digits – they know they’ll have their work cut out for them.  But, all things considered, the VKs seem to be adapting well, and Honey is excited to have them in Auradon.  Or she was, until she takes an extremely suspicious cookie away from Ben and finds herself the victim of a long since forbidden magical roofie.

Name: Princess Isabelle

Story: Tale As Old As Time

Parents: Belle & The Beast

Face claim:  Danielle Campbell

Love interest: Audrey

Summary:  By all rights, Princess Isabelle should be next in line for the throne of Auradon.  She was the firstborn child of the king, after all, and much more politically minded than her twin brother.  But her father, beast that he was, had no intention of ever letting her take her rightful place as queen.  But Belle is her mother’s daughter, and has no intentions of giving up, she just needs a new plan.  And then Ben decides to bring children of the Isle to Auradon, and Isabelle finds herself in the perfect position to get exactly what she’s always wanted.  If only she can go through with it.

Name: Isadora Darling

Story: Second Star To The Right

Parents: Jane Darling

Face claim:  Olivia Holt

Love Interest: Harry Hook

Name: Kate Turner

Story: Untitled

Parents: Elizabeth Swann & Will Turner

Face claim: Grace Van Dien

Name: Keto Jones

Story: Daughter Of Death

Parents: Davy Jones

Face claim: Natalie Alyn Lind

Love Interest: Harry Hook

Name: Krystal Of Arendelle

Story: More Than Just The Spare

Parents: Anna & Kristoff

Face claim:  Willow Shields

Name: Princess Kyra

Story: Ties That Bind

Parents: Jasmine & Aladdin

Face claim: Naomi Scott

Love Interest: Jay

[hauntedsideofthemoon]

BROKEN HEART OF GOLD - chapter 10; heaven is all gone

AO3 link

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader

format: gender-neutral original character/self-insert, they/them pronouns are used when necessary, no use of y/n or "___", feel free to picture the character however you wish!

tags: canon-typical violence, slow burn, ocs as side characters, mentions/depictions of mental health issues

word count: 3109

________________________________________________________

‘There it is,’ Chishiya snickered with amusement, as if he had anticipated the topics of tonight's meeting. Kuina widened with intrigue her eyes as she leaned in closer to the radio. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy, not understanding what about this meeting had caught their interest so strongly.

As the executives discussed about their visas, Kuina sidestepped the ongoing topic as if it didn’t matter to her, and she started a conversation with Chishiya.

‘How did you know they would talk about the ranks tonight?’ She settled her eyes on Chishiya. He kept his focus on the radio before answering.

‘Players have been dying more frequently in the past few days. I figured it must be related to the executives’ weekly meeting.’

I observed Chishiya with narrowed eyes, questions constantly swirling in my mind. In the end, I couldn’t suppress my curiosity. ‘I'm sorry, but how are those two correlated?’

‘What did Chishiya tell you before you came here?’ Kuina suddenly asked, observing me carefully.

Players being killed at random, executives keeping tabs on us, the fact that Niragi wasn't allowed to kill me because another executive was interested in me – I told her everything Chishiya mentioned that day, except the fact that he had dragged me into his plan; I wanted to know why he lied about it first. Kuina let out a sigh as the concerned look on her face faded away.

‘I see he hasn't told you the whole thing yet,’ Kuina explained, ‘but those deaths weren't exactly random. The militants are plotting something to seize control of the Beach, and we’ve been looking into it.’

My throat tightened at her words. The more I learned about this plan, the more dangerous it sounded – spying not only on the executives but also on the militants. What could these two be taking so many risks for?

‘I believe the militants have been scheming to make innocent players look like traitors, and then eliminating them to make it seem like they're doing an efficient job.’ Chishiya added. ‘It sure is a clever strategy to gain Hatter's trust.’

‘And how are you so sure about that?’ I questioned him.

‘I have my ways,’ was his only answer. It wasn't easy to get a straight answer from this man. I looked at Kuina, hoping she would shed some light on the matter, but her attention had returned to the radio. Sighing, I decided to focus on the executives' discussion as well.

The room fell into a heavy silence as the executives delved into a discussion about who had the potential to join their ranks. A few names were mentioned – Kurokawa, Hayashi, and Matsui –, each accompanied by a summary of their strengths, qualities, reliability, and prowess in winning games. Niragi's voice stood out as he persistently praised one man in particular, Kurokawa, emphasizing his remarkable ability to uncover traitors and eliminate them. ‘If our duty is to maintain order at the Beach, what better way to do so than by eliminating any potential threats?’ Niragi concluded in such an amused tone I could even imagine the disgusting grin on his face.

Nonetheless, after what Chishiya had told me, Niragi's persistence in vowing for someone who was seemingly really good at uncovering traitors had me growing suspicious. Kuina let out an annoyed groan before breaking the silence.

‘They are only using last names, this isn't going to help us at all! We have dozens of Kurokawas at the Beach, and who knows how many of them are militants!’

A question burned at the tip of my tongue. Putting together everything I learned today, I cleared my throat before I spoke up.

‘Is there anyone named Kurokawa Shouji among them?’

My question hung in the air as both Kuina and Chishiya turned their attention to me. I darted my eyes between them as I waited for an answer.

‘Yes, Kurokawa Shouji is one of the militants,’ Chishiya confirmed, his voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. He fixed his gaze on me as I recounted the conversation I overheard at the disco area earlier, where a drunk man had nudged his friend Shouji to bring better alcohol options once he became one of the ‘big guys.’

Kuina and Chishiya exchanged glances, pondering over the newfound information. A subtle smirk appeared on Chishiya’s face before he spoke. ‘Their egos are so big they can't even keep their plans a secret while drinking, huh?’

My mind raced, Chishiya’s vague words only adding to the turmoil of thoughts. I couldn’t hold back another question any longer.

‘Why are you so invested in this case? We're talking about the two most powerful parties at the Beach, what are you taking such big risks for?’

Chishiya took a moment to gather his thoughts, his expression turning serious as he met my gaze. ‘I want to become an executive myself. There are already three militants among them. If their numbers increase, it will be only a matter of time before they overthrow Hatter.’

‘You want to become an executive?’ I narrowed my eyes as I questioned him, ‘I didn't take you for the type to crave joining the elite and help preserve the peace.’

Chishiya chuckled at my comments. ‘That's not my goal. I don't care for their duties. I distrust the executives as much as I distrust the militants, but joining their ranks is the only way to uncover the secrets they keep from us, players, and secure my survival.’

His survival, he made that very clear. Chishiya didn't even try to hide that he was just using Kuina and me as pawns to achieve his objective. Yet, why didn't she seem bothered by it? Kuina didn't strike me as someone naive.

I stared at him with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. Chishiya’s self-centered nature became more evident with each interaction we had.

We continued to listen as the executives discussed the traitors, repeatedly emphasizing the importance of safeguarding the cards. Niragi’s recommendation of Kurokawa Shouji seemed to have left an impression on them. As the meeting concluded, Kuina spoke up again, shifting her gaze to Chishiya.

‘What’s our next move, then?’

Chishiya tapped his chin, a faint smirk growing at the corners of his mouth. ‘We need to remove Kurokawa Shouji from the equation,’ he declared.

A shiver ran down my spine at his words. ‘Are you planning to kill him?’ I blurted out, my voice sounding more shocked than I had intended. Chishiya looked at me with a furrowed brow as if I had asked something stupid.

‘No, I’m not going to kill him. I haven’t decided on a plan yet, I need some time to think.’

‘You’re gonna need a lot of luck too, considering your name wasn’t even on their list of candidates in the first place,’ Kuina teased Chishiya while stretching her arms. ‘Ahh, running after the executives today got me so tired. I’ll head back to my room and rest while you sort things out. See ya!’ She waved at us and exited the room, leaving me alone with Chishiya.

Silence settled between us as I continued to stare at Chishiya. He sensed the weight of my gaze and glanced back at me, his expression suggesting a curiosity as to why I hadn’t left yet. I wondered if it was worth asking him the questions that plagued my mind, aware that his responses were usually too vague. I mustered some courage before speaking up.

‘I still have questions for you, but I don’t know if you’d be willing to answer truthfully.’

Chishiya paused for a moment, sighing deeply. ‘Fine. I’ll tell you the truth.’ His eyes met mine as his expression turned serious. ‘Go ahead, ask away.’

‘Firstly, why did you lie to Kuina, saying that I willingly joined your plan? Did you manipulate her into this just like you did to me?’ I kept my tone firm, still wary of him.

‘She would have objected if she knew you were just repaying a debt to me. In the end, does it even matter? I didn’t put you in danger,’ his voice sounded increasingly annoyed as he continued, ‘I didn’t force her into this, though. She made her own choice, fully aware of what it entailed.’

I was slightly taken aback by Chishiya’s blunt response, but I pressed on. ‘How did you know the militants were killing innocent players on purpose as part of their shady scheme?’

‘I stumbled upon it by chance,’ a faint chuckle escaped his lips. ‘You weren’t the only one to come across an idiot that couldn’t keep their mouth shut.’

‘How do you know so much about the executives, and how can you be so certain that they’re hiding secrets from us?’

Chishiya reclined and stared at the ceiling, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. ‘I have been observing them closely for some time now. Their modus operandi is always shrouded in secrecy. If you were to spend more time near them, you would notice their questionable behavior as well. They don’t provide clear answers and are vigilant against anyone who attempts to infiltrate their ranks.’

He paused, leaning in as he fixated his gaze on me. ‘I am certain that they are hiding secrets because of the way they guard their positions so intensely. Their ambitions extend far beyond the boundaries of the Beach, and I wouldn’t be surprised if their ‘rank system’ is a plot for them to be the only individuals to escape this place.’

I mulled over Chishiya’s words, sensing my expression soften as I began to understand his intentions. Surely, his whole plan was still selfish, but I couldn’t blame him for being so ambitious to know the truth. He was a very curious person – just like me.

‘Do you want to know why they are currently seeking a new executive member?’ Chishiya suddenly questioned, instantly capturing my attention. I leaned forward, giving him all my attention and prompting him to continue.

‘One of them died recently. They claimed he failed to clear a game, and the players who were with him said they couldn’t retrieve the body. But I don’t believe any of that. He stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have known, likely related to the militants’ plot to seize control of the Beach. He was one of the best Diamonds players here, so the militants definitely saw his cleverness as a threat.’ A distant gaze settled in Chishiya’s eyes and his voice grew quieter. ‘He was the one in charge of me here, and he trusted me with a lot of important information. He saw a lot of potential in me, though he never explained it to me.’

For a fleeting moment, I thought I noticed a hint of melancholy in his expression. Chishiya looked like an independent person with an inflated ego, so I was surprised to learn he probably looked up to someone.

Silence settled between us for a moment as I pondered everything he told me. For the first time, Chishiya’s tone actually sounded honest, though he could also be a very good manipulator.

‘There’s still something you want to ask me, right?’ He inquired, seemingly able to read my thoughts; Another question indeed burdened my mind.

‘How can I be sure that you didn’t just lie to me about everything?’

Chishiya chuckled once more, shifting his gaze away momentarily. ‘You can’t. The choice to trust me or not is exclusively up to you.’

Although he still carried that familiar air of smugness, the sincerity in his voice gradually resonated with me. Maybe, just maybe , there was more to him than met the eye. I took a deep breath as I got up from my chair, addressing Chishiya one last time.

‘Alright, Chishiya, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But you should know that trust is earned, not chosen. I will move forward with your plan, but I’ll keep an eye on you if you ever decide to backstab Kuina.’

He nodded in response, not uttering any words. I left his room and made my way back to mine.

----------

When I thought I would finally be able to enjoy my breakfast in peace, Kuina called me over to explain Chishiya’s plan for tonight. While I enjoyed spending time with her, having to hear about Chishiya first thing in the morning made me lose my appetite.

I was thankful for not having eaten yet, however, because the details of the plan were enough to make me nauseous. Kuina explained we would have to break into the militants’ rooms to look for what they were using against innocent players – and by we , she meant just the two of us. Of course, Chishiya would force others to do the hard work for him.

‘Hey, I understand this sounds terrible right now, but you don't have to do it,’ Kuina spoke gently. ‘I can make up an excuse about you getting sick or something, so you can step away from the plan. I am more than capable of handling it alo-’

‘No,’ I cut her off mid-sentence, ‘I don't want you to take that risk by yourself. I’ll do it.’

In truth, I wasn’t as brave as I pretended to be. I would love to escape from this mess Chishiya created, but I would feel terribly guilty if I left Kuina alone with him after they told me so much. I couldn’t bear the thought of her getting hurt because I backed out at the last minute.

Kuina respected my choice, softly smiling at me while patting my arm.

----------

As the night approached, we gathered once again in Chishiya’s room to prepare ourselves. He handed us small walkie-talkies and explained he would be out in the corridor to warn us if anyone passed by.

‘Not brave enough to break into a room yourself, huh?’ I teased.

Chishiya’s expression remained unfazed as he retorted, ‘Would you rather take the risk of being caught unaware?’

I grimaced, not answering his question. Chishiya assigned us specific rooms to investigate before we finally left to get into our positions. The sun had set a while ago, so many players already had left the dorms, either to join games or to party near the pool.

Leaning against a wall, Chishiya positioned himself where he could see all the doors in the corridor as well as the stairwell. ‘Ready?’ he asked with his characteristic smirk on display. Kuina and I nodded before heading to our designated rooms.

I stood in front of room 208 for a few seconds before walking in, quietly closing the door behind me.

‘Do you have any ideas of what we should be looking for?’ Kuina’s voice crackled through the radio.

‘Anything that seems out of place, something you wouldn't expect to find in a normal player’s room,’ Chishiya answered, sounding like he wasn't even trying to help.

‘It would be really helpful if you had at least one suggestion, okay?’ I blurted out, observing the chaos of litter and dirty clothes in front of me. ‘You have no idea how messy this place is. It could take hours!’

‘Well, then, stop wasting time.’ Chishiya urged, his arrogance evident in his tone.

I groaned in frustration and began sifting through this disarray. The drawers were mostly empty as all of this person’s belongings seemed to be on the floor. Rummaging through the piles of clothes, I tried to ignore the toxic smell that emerged from them when my hands stumbled upon something small. I picked it up to take a better look and shock spread all over me.

‘Cards,’ I spoke through the radio. ‘This person is hiding playing cards.’ I continued searching, taking out about half a dozen creased cards from an open ziplock bag.

‘I just found two cards as well,’ Kuina added. ‘How did these cards pass by unnoticed by the executives?’

‘Who knows? But it makes a lot of sense. They must be planting those cards in other players’ rooms to frame them as traitors, before returning the cards to Hatter.’ Chishiya deduced, his tone suggesting he had expected this.

‘Wait, so you already suspected they were using cards? Why didn’t you mention it earlier?’ I demanded, annoyed.

No response.

‘Chishiya! Are you listening to me? You-’

‘Quiet.’ Chishiya’s voice abruptly hushed me. ‘The owner of room 208 just walked by me and is headed your way, followed by another man.’

My body froze in place. They were coming to the very room I was in. My luck just had to be this bad.

Footsteps gradually grew closer from outside, and I rushed to find a hiding spot. Kicking some trash aside, I squeezed myself under the bed and pulled a pile of clothes closer, hoping to blend in.

The door swung open and I caught a glimpse of a pair of sandals through a small gap amidst the clutter.

‘I’ve got like four or five cards in here, just give me a minute,’ a man’s voice echoed with excitement as he searched through the mess on the floor.

Silence settled in for a moment, broken only by the voice of the other man urging him to hurry. The sound of shuffling plastic came up as the man grew anxious, muttering phrases like ‘I swear I put them here!’ and ‘Where the hell is it?’

Soon, heavy footsteps walked in, combat boots showing themselves through that same gap. ‘Four or five cards, you said?’ his voice was unnerving. ‘That’s four or five missed opportunities to earn Hatter’s trust.’

‘Wait, I-I promise they’re here somewhere! Just give me a few more minutes!’ The anxious man pleaded, trying to convince his companion to let him keep searching.

‘Enough,’ a commanding voice silenced the anxious man instantly. ‘What good are you to us if you can't even secure a few cards properly?’

The man made one final plea, only to be abruptly cut off by a deafening sound. His body hit the floor with a loud thud , and the smell of fresh blood filled the cramped place I was in. The door slammed shut as the other man left.

It took me a while to gather the courage to leave my hiding spot. Pushing aside the clothes that had concealed me, the smell of blood grew stronger and I pressed a hand over my nose to muffle it. Avoiding the pool of blood as I crawled out, I observed the scene before my eyes. A young man, likely in his early 20s, was killed because of some playing cards – cards that crumpled under the grip of my trembling hands at this very moment.

[naresnani]

on Violence

Chapter 2

Chapter 1, Chapter2, Chapter 3

Fandom: Ikemen Prince | Nokto Klein / Adam Kain | Words: 1.9k

Tags: Scriptfic, screenplay format, Political stuff, Slow burn, Route spoilers!

Summary :

Chevalier, Clavis and Nokto interrogates Adam in their office.

ACT TWO INT. CHEVALIER'S FACTION OFFICE - DAY The actors are all in place. The two 'cops'—Nokto and Clavis, stand leaning on their desks. The 'looming force of punishment'—Chevalier, looks out the window like he doesn't realise there's any other person in the room. The 'subject'— Adam.  NOKTO Adam. Have you met Prince Clavis and Prince Chevalier before?  (Points to them) ADAM  I know of them, your Highness. NOKTO Would you look at that. How did you come to know them? ADAM They're not the most obscure individuals, are they. And I've...personally seen them before, from a distance. Clavis maintains a poker face. He looks at Nokto for a second, and Nokto registers it.  Nokto walks closer to Adam.  NOKTO Have you seen them...harming your people before? Adam stares.  NOKTO Because I promise you, you're not here to be harmed. We just want to know you better. And hey, maybe these two can be, uh,  (looks back and forth between them)  bit, intimidating. If you want to only speak with me, we can do that too.  No reply. The man simply stares at Nokto. The kind of stare he couldn't decipher either.  NOKTO  Oh yeah, this will speed up the process of getting all these...inheritance issues solved, definitely. And after that- ADAM I've seen them harm their own civilians before. Something in the room shifts. It's Chevalier, his eyes turn marginally towards their subject. 

Read more on AO3

[ashxketchum]

A little something for Takao Tuesday after a few weeks:

★ The proposal two-shot featuring young adult TyHil, is now available to read on AO3 in a more linear format as Better Together.

Summary: Life continues to take unexpected turns for Tyson and Hilary as they come into adulthood and they learn that things only get better when they're together.

“What about your Beyblade winnings?” Hilary suggested the only alternative her brain could think of on such short notice.

She remembered quite vividly, that everyone around Tyson had pretty much forced him to put all the money in the bank despite of the Champion’s many protests and declarations of it being his money and how he wanted to buy an island for himself from it. She almost laughed at the memory of the argument they’d had that day and the effort she’d put into explaining to him just how expensive islands actually were. When she turned her attention back to Tyson however, she saw that her suggestion hadn’t had the effect that she was expecting. All colour seemed to have drained from his face and the relief that had been visible in his eyes just a few moments ago had now turned into panic.

“Wha-what about the winnings?” He asked quickly, his voice squeakier and more nervous than usual.

“Let’s use that to pay for someone to come over weekly to clean and maintain the Dojo.” Hilary responded, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at his current state. Tyson fidgeted under her stare, he avoided looking at her completely, scratched his head multiple times and even began to drum his fingers on the table before letting out a defeated sigh, and finally facing her with an apprehensive look in his eyes.

“That’s a great idea Hils, but I already used up the winnings for something else.”

“What?”

Hilary stood up, slamming her hands on the table and Tyson leaned back in his chair, “Tyson that was supposed to be your fallback money, for emergencies and odd situations exactly like this! How could you be so reckless with it?” She spoke furiously, balling up her fists in an attempt to keep herself from reaching across the table to grab Tyson by the collar and shake some sense into him. As always, just when she had managed to reel in her temper and they were beginning to smooth things over, Tyson had to drag them back to square one by just being Tyson.

★ After being in WIP mode since 2021, the Hogwarts AU oneshot is finally uploaded, with a lot of potential for a Part 2! Read it here.

Summary: Starting her Fifth Year at Hogwarts as a Prefect, Hilary has a lot of plans about how she wants the year to go, none of which account for what Tyson has in store for her.

“Thank you for your help, but that wasn’t needed,” she stated. Grabbing his arms and forcefully removing them from their hold on her waist, Hilary turned around to face the culprit.

The amused smirk that greeted her made her roll her eyes but the navy-haired boy decided that he had taken enough risks for the time being and backed away from her, raising his hands in the air to convey his surrendering.

“So we’re skipping through the niceties right off the bat then?” Tyson chuckled as he slowly ran a hand through his thick, spiky mass of blue hair, grinning at her, he added mockingly, “Oh and you were doing such a great job before I got here too.”

Hilary flushed as she glared up at him, it wasn’t fair that every time they came back after a school year he would be just a few inches taller, making it mostly impossible for her to intimidate him during their face-offs.

“For someone who is lauded by our Professors as the brightest witch in our year, you sure do forget to use magic a lot,” Tyson remarked. A triumphant glint was visible in his cocoa eyes as he gestured towards the compartment’s door, waiting for her to take leave first.