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bitegore · 1 year ago

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hello, im currently making a sort-of remake of your Blorbo Bleebus template (both to make a higher resolution image, darkmode version and transparent versions) and am debating making some changes to it (e.g. changing fruity to queer). Are there any changes you would make nowadays if you could?

originally put this at the end but the post got long so i'm moving it up here. Anyway I really appreciate you doing this and I also appreciate you reaching out about it. If you think I'm full of shit on any or all of the lines, feel free to completely ignore it, I don't mind. I would love to see your version when you're done! Good luck!

Anyway. Honestly I'd probably change up a lot of it - all of the elements were from various memes, and not all of them are in fashion. The only reason fruity is even on there (I don't particularly like the word myself either) is because the original meme that spawned the entire thing (including the idea of it being a blorbo rating system) was from a wine-flavor label - and thus "fruity" was a particularly awkward choice of a word for it to try to say "this tastes like grapes" lol. I don't think almost anyone who saw the sheet had seen that, though, or knew much about wine tasting (no shade, me either), so like a bunch of the other jokes it falls flat to basically everyone lmao.

These are what I would change. You don't have to do any of these, of course. But it's the ones I'd do. Sorry for how much it bounces around, most of them are just "the first thing i thought of after looking at the sheet again" so it's kind of random and not well organized.

#1: "Flavor Container" turned out to be a much more niche thing than I thought it was; replace it with something that gets at the idea of a character being an "archetype" or "really conentrated" amount of that kind of thing that works better and has more broad-spectrum immediate understanding Or just like, some other type of character-describing meme, up to you

#2: someone pointed out (rightly!) that there is one gender-specific subtype (himbo) on there but no female-specific gender subtype, and that the cat meme i put in as placeholder text on the character box uses he/him pronouns, which both kind of push it toward being gender-specific even though that wasn't what I had wanted. I'd either switch Himbo out for a more recent and less gendered meme or add a female-gendered meme (eg: "girlboss", "butch fatale", etc) to even out the subtypes, and swap out the pronouns on the cat meme for they/them instead of he/him. Might also be worthwhile to switch the bar option for "just some guy" for something like "just some rando" but honestly that doesn't have the same energy; I don;t think there is a properly gender-neutral equivalent for 'guy' that i can think of that won't sound forced and as long as it's not directed at anyone in particular I think that one can be left alone. Tbh if you're switching fruity out you should almost definitely also do these.

#3. i'm pretty sure calling things skrunkly is on its way out, i'd come up with a more recent meme adjective for the name spot i think

#4. one of the bars in the middle of the page goes between "1,000 tools" and "1,000 weapons", which (because I expected at most 30 notes) I figured would be similarly comprehensible to flavor container. It's meant to reflect an outlook on life, ie, do they build things up to solve problems or do they attack and tear down their problems? I don't think this is a very effective set and also it's not a good joke, so it's probably best to put something else there.

#5. the "you want them to have" section is clunky and not very good, which is because that was the last part i did when I made it and I rushed it because I was bored of the project by then. I think there are a lot more interesting things to talk about than "do they have sex" "do they have romance" "do they have friends" and "did you hate their ending specifically" BUT also i have been informed that this is the shipping website and I'm not really a huge shipper, so my lack of interest in most of the contents of those boxes might not be reflective of everyone else's! Please use your best judgement here, if you like that bit then you can absolutely keep it. That being said I think it would be interesting to get into something like "tropes" instead, switching out the idea of like, desirable plot beats for the character with like, desirable common storytelling tropes or something to suhove the character into, or genres, or w/e. it would also suit the rest of the sheet better. i also think it would be more fun to be filling in boxes like "go in the dark" and "bonk on head with giant mallet" and "hunted for sport" than "more romance" and "less romance", if you follow me lol

#6. The idea of the slider bars is fine, but the shape is apparently kind of tough for people to work with unless they're confident drawing digitally in some way, so intead of doing a straight black line with a black line down the center, I would do an outlined bar with a black line down the center, sort of like the below. I think this will be easier for people to fill in with a paint bucket tool or w/e and hopefully save some wrists.

#7. I keep seeing comments asking for it to be a fillable PDF as well, which is like, not something I am capable of making if I'm honest. I don't do PDFs. No idea if you do, but if you do have the ability, it might be a solid plan to make it as a PDF first so it can be converted into a fillable PDF somehow. I took a stab at doing that yesterday but then i got frustrated and bored and gave up lol.

#8. tbh if you're making it a bigger resolution this might not be an issue but the text is really kind of small. I'd probably change the image ratio and scale a lot of the text up, sort of like this (sorry i am not working on a computer where i have robust photo editing tools or the original file so i am just sort of cutting it up in photopea with my mouse so it looks kind of jank). The reason for this is because the program I made it in just sort of opened with a printer-paper-sized page and i went "cool, I can work with that" and didn't change it. But when sharing and posting it, it becomes hard to read.

(this also doesnt really work... i'm not very good at optimizing things for post-readability ;-;)

#9. the slider between "stupid as shit" and "scary-smart" isnt that good, i'd swap it for "not the..." and "sharpest tool in the shed" respectively, because i think that that is more fun. or something along those lines

#10. I already said I would change this bit out entirely, but if you do keep the "you want them to have" section mostly as-is, the last eight or so don't really fit with what's already there - "freedom", "catharsis", "justification", "The Realization", "revenge", "conseequences", "sympathy" and "a satisfying ending" are about the writing the character is situated in, but "a better/worse time", "better/worse situation", "more/less trauma", "more/less healing", "more/less/different romance", "more/less/different sex", "more/less/different friends", "painful isolation" and "a family" are about relationships and emotional experiences the character is having in-universe. I guess you could leave freedom, revenge and consequences in there, but they don't really suit it well. I'd either switch the last handful for things that fit the theme (and also the more/less/different/none scheme), or make the entire thing center around the writing choices in the original narrative they're from.

#11. If you're redoing it from the ground up, you also get to pick a better font... I badly wish I had done all the titles in Impact (the meme font, you know the one) because I think it would've been funny. I probably would've put like, "bottom text" at the very bottom of the page too but that's probably not as funny to anyone who isn't me. I didn't want to bother tweaking it when I finished it, so it has NBOS's default font (I think it was Arial Black?) instead.

#12. I'd probably switch "soft and sweet" to "cinnamon roll", i've seen that one make a comeback recently and also it's so old that the fact that it's out of date brings some kind of humor to it along with it in a way that "soft and sweet" doesn't really do.

#13. "aspirational character" doesn't really do anything in the subclass list anyway - it's not interesting or funny and much of what it covers is also covered by "just like you fr" and "braincell haver", so i'd also replace that one with a more interesting recent character meme.

#14. tbh the checkboxes underneath the picture box were me taking a bunch of potshots at Batman specifically (well, besides murderer, but that was beacuse I needed another line). In the spirit of it, if you have a particularly common Kind of blorbo that other people keep putting on your dash nowadays, it would probably make sense to take their traits and put them in there instead until if you check all of them off you get that character instead. Keep it updated and fresh and fun and all that lol.

Also - last things-

please don't write me in as the "original creator" or w/e - I was cribbing so much from so many other people and places that I don't really feel like it's worth crediting it all to me, all I did was grid it out. No idea if that was part of your plan but if it was like. don't worry about it, if it wasn't, then that's great because that works for both of us :D

understand if you're not interested or don't want it, but if it would be helpful, I can send you a probably way higher resolution version than is floating around on Tumblr if you like - the program I made it with was designing it to be a printable sheet so it's a high enough resolution that the edgtes would all print nice and crisply, I think Tumblr just has a maximum image size and my layout didn't work very well with it lmao

#red replies #Anonymous #WILD #im still just astounded that people even liked it in the first place

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jonathankatwhatever · 2 years ago

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It’s 22 Sept 2023.

We used to call these Confusions and Complications. They’re interchanges, with lots going on because so many permutations exist within that space. I used to call the effect ‘bouncing’ because you approach on a thread and suddenly you realize you’re somewhere else. This is the basic issue which prevents people from being able to address their problems: they literally bounce off them. You can tell by how much they displace and how they displace.

And I just ended up in a horrible place in which there was a bait and switch. There was a clear entrance to that cave, through analogy to immediate connection and thus concern to a sudden flip. And it hits like a thud, and I’m sitting here trying to find where the weakness is, which is my attractiveness to mine own self. That’s interesting because I’m much further along with that than I ever expected to be. I can see many more ideals in my body, posture, and face. I really liked my hair, so of course I cut it and I like it now too because I wanted to open up my forehead. I’ve been noticing that lately, so I sort of knew it was coming. You’ll be pleased to know I largely stayed out of the way and let him do his thing. Showered and used a little shampoo. I wanted it clean enough to form naturally into the kind of hair bundles my head normally produces. That’s what I want to bring out more. Just checked: found that I can get behind ideals from both perspectives. Get behind is literal: I have to shift the Observer to the side so the various iterations of me necessary to get a clear view of the ideal line up.

That literally says there are multiple representations of me and these line up to generate a clearer approximation of Triangular. Felt like that rings the bell. Uh-oh, approximation of Triangular means IL. So that’s the idea hidden in there. Representations of myself count, and since they count, they count to the IL at any moment, meaning they generate within whatever is visible to me. That means I could have a highly distorted view of myself, like with anorexia or pathological shyness.

Have to interrupt regular programming to say there should be a place for Jewish tacos. Smoked whitefish tacos are insane. And all those other dishes, like Jewish brisket and kreplach, all fit to taco forms. Must be places like this. And I made rice with cut up firm tofu, Korean spicy paste, Korean pickled radish in ‘sauce’, scallion, and 2 eggs. Truly delicious. I love the fruity tangy spiciness.

Chasing the highs. It is an addiction. Was it worth the wait? Yes. I really only started to feel that way for sure recently, when I realized the ideas I’d thought were excuses were actual explanations. Like that this held me in a state of Confusion, preventing me from being able to focus taking the simple steps necessary to avoid the condition I’m in now. I can blame myself for doing that, but I look at what it is I’ve been doing, and thus where that impulse comes from, and I see that this has been very good for me. And I see my actions as having been Triangular to those impulses, meaning their needs arranged my needs to fit.

But that raises the question: why am I wrong so often about what I infer locally, meaning in this life, in whatever context I’m thinking or being or considering? I accept I’m correct in essentially all aspects of describing the inclusive concept of HC. But I’m wrong all the time. I can tip over putting on a sock if I don’t transfer perspective to the necessary side. I wouldn’t be dealing with foot and knee and hip, etc. pain if I hadn’t barefoot kicked a chair.

It isn’t merely local permutations. I have no clue what will happen in the world. My guesses are often wrong. I used to tell my kids that advice is a coin flip: I may be correct or I may be wrong. Contexts change. I change. We can explain why things change: it’s a consequence of the construction of D3-4 existences or Things. We are all D3-4 Things, both tObject and iObject.

I can see why I’m wrong, given the number of permutations involved. But you understand this runs deep, that it makes me question how this works: what am I correct about when it comes to you? Do I know you as deeply as I feel? That’s not a belief. That’s a statement: is what I feel about you true?

I remember when I stopped working on my first real draft of this work. It ended with the binding together of 2 Things in what I remember calling TC. I remember spending a lot of time trying to understand why this wasn’t the same as LC, which is 2 specified Things each in IC, which constructs the 4 versions, and which eventually allows us to put 2 Things into the ++ quadrant. I think delving into that link would be useful, since it happened fast in my head. The 4 versions map to the quadrants, and that is true for any Thing. If we place more Things within ++, then we use rotational adjustments to differentiate. And I mean literally that we differentiate along the adjusting path which distinguishes this from that out of all the paths which can be made, and thus out of all the paths which can not be made (localized to be sensible of course). So we can have a - - and a -+ and a +-, and these appear fundamentally but generate infinite typing and then variety within, within, within.

What I saw with TC is really then a binding which creates the versions of CM64 which fit within CM100, which means that can bind over to another Thing, not merely across Between 2T but across to another 2T. That 2T needs explanation: let’s say that I have a choice of paths, it isn’t that I take the less traveled path but that I stay on it, and that ambiguity resolves into a choice of continue or not, maybe not at every step, but we can infer it to that point if I’m tired or something hurts. BTW, I had 0 pain walking yesterday. My right leg hit a new position which completely eliminated toe and knee pain.

I’m trying to say that 2T are built into any T, so the specification issue actually runs internally as well. Holy Cow that explains a lot. We can identity and fix a bunch of issue with that knowledge. HC is very functional notation. Yes, HC is the level at which TC makes sense!

I need to go for a walk. I’ve been ‘working’ for hours.

This approach to a line recreates the childhood dream of separation in which I made a barrier no matter how hard I tried to get through. It’s not possible to eliminate the ways in which a line exists. Think about life that way: it is possible to see where that line exists.

The concept of TC leads to interchange and wrapping of one around the other. Like Ivy.

What is TC in fCM? CM100 as the interface, so that means an IC because you have 2 perspectives through to the 2 sides which CM100 ‘fits’ Between. A CM100 sandwich.

This ends up saying CM100 because that’s a reduction from higher counting, same as below. And this is how you get switched from thread to thread only to realize what happened. It’s the math secret behind the concept of illusion. Love this.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Into The Unknown, Part 8

First

Marinette had never thought that living in another world would be this hard.

Sure, she had known that she would have issues when it came to the whole ‘she wasn’t technically supposed to be here and therefore needed a new identity’ thing. That was kind of obvious. The story they’d come up with had been simple enough -- she had grown up in Gotham with her parents, was highschool sweethearts with Tim, they had gotten married, he’d moved in with her, and her parents had died so she’d gotten custody of Damian. She was pretty sure Tim had a tragic backstory, but she didn’t really have that memorized yet. She wasn’t all that worried about it, though, she spent quite a lot of time dodging answering questions about her private life as Ladybug. Marinette probably wouldn’t even need to memorize his backstory (she would, of course, because she was nothing if not an overachiever, but she was well aware of the fact that it wasn’t quite necessary).

But, no, it was the small things that made it difficult.

Like affection.

Marinette was Parisian, she was used to greeting people with kisses on both cheeks. Hugs were something reserved for people you were close to.

But, no, Americans just insisted on being backward in everything that they do. And, supposedly, Marinette was American. She could get away with her accent because Gotham had a bunch of different people and it was easy to claim she came from the French part of town, but when it came to customs? No, she had to at least try and act like someone who had lived in America for her entire life.

So, when she was greeted with a hug from the most affectionate of her fellow interns, Marinette suppressed a cringe and patted her on the back awkwardly.

“Hi, Paige,” she said.

Paige beamed. “Ready for work?”

Marinette squinted up at the building. The WE in this universe was even taller than in her usual one.

… or maybe it just looked like that because she dreaded going inside. Ugh. Being an intern was going to suck.

“No.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks…”

But, despite Paige’s assurances, it did not go fine.

And it wasn’t even the job thing that wasn’t going well. That, at least, she could handle. No, it was this world’s meme culture that sent her spiraling.

She’d been holding exactly nine cups of coffee, seven mugs of tea, and one energy drink can. Marinette didn’t know if it was her time working in a bakery or some sort of latent Ladybug skills or what but it wasn’t even all that difficult to hold them all.

Paige raised her eyebrows at her, looking vaguely concerned. “Do you need help?” She asked, hands already out as if expecting her to say yes.

Marinette cracked a grin. “No. I’m fine. It’s not even that hard. I could probably carry another two drinks, even.”

“Freaky flexing, but fine.”

“... the fuck did you just say to me?”

Tim hummed lightly as he bounced on the balls of his feet, baby sleeping soundly on his shoulder. Marinette fumbled the keys to their new apartment, mumbling curses.

She’d outright told him that she didn’t really care, that she’d lived above a bakery for most of her life so it wasn’t like she would mind as long as the place had counter space…

So why was he nervous?

He felt the tiny hand in his shirt grip him tighter and he looked down. Damian was still fast asleep, sucking on his pacifier peacefully. Tim wondered, idly, how that worked. Was it a reflex that humans lose as they age like the grasping reflex or was it a learned behavior that went away when it wasn’t reinforced anymore?

Marinette managed to open the door, her cheeks tinged red at how difficult it had been, and she swung it open.

He stopped bobbing up and down to watch her face.

But she just shrugged to herself and bent down to grab the box she’d brought up.

He tried not to look too relieved as he followed her inside and watched her set the box down on the kitchen island.

She glanced back at him. “I call cleaning and setting up the apartment!” She said brightly.

“Okay…?” He said, confused as to why she was so excited to clean up…

But then Damian started to stir.

Oh. If she had cleanup duty… then he had…

Baby duty.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Shit, Mari, wait --!”

“Too late! You already said okay!” She said, already heading to the door.

Damian spat out his pacifier and took that one long, deep breath he always took before he was about to scream.

“Mari!”

She stuck her tongue out at him and disappeared around the doorframe just as the baby started to cry.

Tim heaved a sigh and pressed a kiss to the top of the kid’s head. The wailing quieted a little, but didn’t stop. Tim would take it, he hadn’t even been expecting Damian to quiet himself. This was an absolute win in his book.

He glanced at the box that had been brought up but, unfortunately, they hadn’t had enough foresight to bring the baby supplies.

He poked his head out the door and yelled for Marinette to bring up the box with the baby stuff first. She yelled ‘fuck you’ in response but when she came back she handed him the box regardless.

He smiled -- or, at least, he smiled as much as it was possible to smile when a baby was screaming at you -- and went to work figuring out what was wrong.

There was good news and bad news.

Good news was that Damian was starting to learn that crying was okay.

Bad news was that Damian was starting to learn that crying was okay.

And, listen, Marinette obviously preferred that. She wanted to know when the kid was hurt or hungry or even just craving affection… but ugh.

She twisted around in the bed to squint at the clock.

Three o’clock. Great.

She groaned softly and buried her face in Damian’s hair again. “Dami, please, I have work tomorrow. Shhhhhhhhh,” she pleaded. As if she didn’t have to go to work every day.

Damian, of course, didn’t stop crying.

Marinette thought she was going to cry.

Tim pulled his arm from around them so he could cover his ears with his pillow.

She reluctantly sat up. Damian banged his little fists against her shoulder in an attempt to tell her… something. Probably that he wasn’t happy. As if the entire apartment complex couldn’t hear just how unhappy he was.

She changed his diaper and then got him Cow. Hopefully that would sate him for the rest of the night.

She clambered back into bed and sent Tim a weak smile when he wrapped an arm around them.

She scooted toward him, because Damian was reaching for him and his eyes were closed, and tucked her head under his chin. He tensed just slightly before relaxing and tangling his legs with hers.

Damian seemed to like being cocooned between them, because he made a vague happy sound and settled down to sleep without much (more) fussing.

Tim hummed lightly. His voice was terrible, but it seemed to calm Damian so Marinette wasn’t about to complain.

It took a while for Damian to go back to sleep but, eventually, he did. Unfortunately, he fell asleep while biting the crinkly ears of his plush and it was hard to sleep with the steady crkcrkcrkcrk sound right next to her.

From the way Tim’s breathing had yet to slow, he wasn’t asleep either.

Well, at least that was something to do.

“I’m beginning to think the reason babies are so cute is that otherwise we would kill them,” she joked, her voice soft so as not to wake the kid again.

Not that it would matter all that much. She could, unfortunately, not see herself going back to sleep before her alarm went off.

He chuckled and nodded as much as he could with her head beneath his. “Right? I just want one night of good sleep --.”

He stopped suddenly.

She drew back a little to check that he was fine, only to see him looking mildly horrified.

“We need to go back home soon. I’m going to get used to sleeping like a normal person. I can’t do that,” he said.

She grinned. “Oh no. The horror.”

“No, you don’t get it. If I do that then I’ll be giving into my family’s wishes. I can’t let them think they’re right about something!”

She giggled, shaking her head. “Here, I’ll make it easier for you: I don’t want you to sleep. As Dami and I are your only family -- legally -- for the next fifteen years, you must not do what we want. Therefore, you have to sleep.”

“Ah. Reverse psychology.”

“Well, I am a psych major.” Some of the amusement faded. “Was a psych major.”

“... really?”

“Yeah. I dunno. I’d figured it was the closest I could get to being Ladybug again.”

“You’re still Ladybug.”

She shrugged just slightly. “Yeah. I dunno,” she said again. She tried for a grin. “Doesn’t feel the same when there’s no emotional terrorism involved.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to do the same thing over and over again for a million years.”

“There’s some comfort in things staying the same.”

“Oh? Maybe we should trade.”

“That’s an amazing plan that I see no problems with. You get to go around beating up the Meta Of The Week and I’ll stay in Gotham dealing with all the idiots in spandex.”

“Are we switching outfits, too?”

“Oh yeah. Obviously. Gotta commit to the whole ‘switching’ thing. I bet I’ll look cuter in your outfit, too.”

“Ah, yes, because cuteness is the most important part of vigilante costumes.”

“We end up in papers all the time, being cute is totally important.”

He chuckled lightly and she felt the arm around her give her a tiny squeeze. She buried her face in his chest.

“You should try and sleep.”

“Hypocrite,” she teased, but she could already feel her eyelids drooping.

He hummed. She thought that, maybe, it didn’t sound so bad as to make him stop.

Tim had been in the middle of bathing Damian as he always did before bed when he’d accidentally splashed water on his face.

Perfectly fine and normal.

What wasn’t perfectly fine and normal was that the baby responded by saying: “Oh shit!”

Tim’s eyes narrowed.

“MARINETTE,” he yelled.

Marinette was there in seconds. There was some kind of green paste on her face. She’d been in the middle of her usual skincare routine. He thought it was kind of weird that near-immortals needed skincare routines but that wasn’t the point here.

She looked around frantically. “What?! What’s wrong?!”

“Damian just said sh --... he said the s-word.”

Marinette relaxed at that and sent Tim a glare. “Don’t blame this one on me. You’re the one that says that.”

Tim frowned. Because, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure she was right.

“Now, if he’d said ‘fuck’, that would have been on me, but he didn’t, so --.”

“FUCK,” Damian said brightly.

Tim glared at Marinette again, this time rightfully so.

She looked a little sheepish. “... okay, yeah, that one’s on me.”

~~~~~

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

#my baby cousins are starting to rub off on me #yesterday i said 'im sleepies' in a normal conversation #girl help #into the unknown #maribat #timinette #timari #timmari #shutterbug #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #red robin #tim drake

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drowsy-writer · 4 years ago

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I Can't Stop— regulus black x reader

Summary: An unmovable object vs. an unstoppable force (aka Reader tries to get Regulus to bed)

Warning: cursing, angst, bittersweet fluff, crying

Notes: Reader has she/her pronouns and is a Hufflepuff; this can also be read as either romantic or platonic also yes I sometimes face claim regulus as Benjamin Wadsworth pls don’t @ me i’m new here lol

Hogwarts 1975

Every Hufflepuff knows that when 10:00 hits, the kitchen goes silent. No pots boil, no ovens switch on―without the house elves, the place is as silent as the library on a good day. The alluring scents of the day’s meals would linger in the air, hitting the face of every Hufflepuff who entered eager to make it to their common room and call it a night.

Tonight the smells of roasted chicken and creamy beef stew were replaced with the stingy aroma of coffee as two students sat at the end of the kitchen’s massive table, books spread out amongst themselves. Two gigantic porcelain mugs were placed within arms reach and a fresh pot of coffee sat between them.

“Find anything yet?” the Hufflepuff asked. Her [h/c] curls bounced slightly as she looked up from her piece of parchment, observing the pale Slytherin boy across from her scrunch his brows.

“No,” Regulus shut another book and tossed it on top of the stack next to him. He reached over to his mug, which embarrassingly had an orange flat-faced kitten painted on it, and downed its remaining contents. He then slammed the mug on the table and ran both of his fingers through his short ebony locks,” nothing. Yet.”

“House elves are bound to wake up soon,” [Y/N] mused. She cocked her head towards the tiny door sitting next to the fireplace,” maybe we should call it a night.”

Regulus groaned as he reached for the pot of coffee and poured himself another cup. The pot shook a bit as Regulus poured it, the bags underneath his eyes growing darker. [Y/N] looked at her friend and sighed.

“We’ve gone through almost the whole library, Reggie,” [Y/N] said. Regulus took a quick swig of his refilled cup of coffee and cracked open another book,” look! That’s even the same book you opened last night. Cover and all!”

“Nope,” Regulus held up the book and tapped his pale finger on the cover where it read Volume 2. It was [Y/N]’s time to groan as she took her own mug, this one with a silly looking dog on it, and sipped at the now cold contents. Her face scrunched up as she placed the mug down,” Zatara might’ve been a loon, but he was Bullock’s assistant. He probably hid something in here so Dumbledore or anyone else couldn’t find and burn it..”

“What makes you think that Volume 2 is gonna have something when the first one didn’t?” [Y/N] had got up from her chair, cold cup of coffee in hand, and dumped it down the drain of the sink behind her. She turned the faucet on, rinsing out the mug and gently putting it back on the drying rack. When [Y/N] spun around, she was met by Regulus’s signature scowl,” don’t get your knickers in a twist. You know I’m right. I’m always right with these sorts of things.”

“I know,” Regulus hissed. He looked back down at the book,” but right now, I’m hoping you’re wrong.”

[Y/N] huffed as she sat back down on her chair again. A small yawn escaped her lips but she knew it’d be a while until Regulus decided to pack his stuff and leave. This was the case every night since 2nd year where Regulus and [Y/N] would stay up right before the elves came back in to prep for breakfast, reading and discussing topics both school related and pure nonsense. Neither knew how this little tradition started and, quite frankly, neither cared. It was a breath of fresh air for [Y/N] and a sense of normalcy Regulus craved for within his ever turbulent life.

As of recently, however, their midnight meetings were overwhelmed with a sense of dread. It had been months since Regulus had properly been exposed to the world of the Death Eaters and of Lord Voldemort, courtesy of his mother. From then on, he had been put into an almost inescapable hole, one that he was intent of crawling out of. Regulus might've not had the luxury of running away like his brother, but he sure as hell wasn't going to give in without a fight.

“So if I am wrong, what’s gonna happen next?” [Y/N] asked.

Regulus quirked a brow as he stopped reading the passage he was on. Not even bothering to look up, Regulus clicked his tongue in thought. He then, to [Y/N]’s annoyance, shrugged his shoulders and continued to read.

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far yet.”

“What do you mean you haven’t thought that far yet? We’ve been looking into Horcruxes for the past three months and you haven’t the clue as to what you’ll do next?!”

“Something like that.”

“You're so—,” [Y/N] let out a muffled scream as she buried her head in her hands,” you're insufferable, you know that? Why am I even friends with you?”

“Haven't thought that far yet either,” Regulus smirked.

“Very funny, Reggie. Now c’mon,” [Y/N] motioned towards the stack of books,” let’s stash these away. We’ve got a Potions exam tomorrow morning, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

Regulus didn’t make an effort to get up and continued to read through the book. As Regulus flipped through another page, [Y/N] muttered underneath her breath as she jumped down from her seat and walked over to the Slytherin’s side.

“Alright. That’s it.”

Before Regulus could make sense as to what was happening, [Y/N] wrapped her hands around his waist and hoisted him up from the seat.

“[Y/N]?!” Regulus sputtered, dropping the book from his hands,” let me go!”

“Oh shut it, Black! You need to get some sleep!”

Still in her arms, Regulus tensed as their bodies pressed against one another. He cursed himself underneath his breath as his face flushed red.

“Just put me down. Now.”

“No.”

“[Y/N]—!”

[Y/N] tightened her grip as Regulus squirmed within her hold. She dragged him from his chair to the middle of the kitchen where he finally pushed himself off.

“What the hell was that for?”

“You need to sleep, Regulus! You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends. You’ll fall back if you keep doing this.”

“Well what else am I supposed to do, then? Run away from my problems like my brother? Ignore them? I can’t just turn away from my family and pretend nothing ever happened!” Regulus shouted. His breathing turned ragged, as if he just finished yet another Quidditch match, “what would you expect for me to do?”

“I—I don’t know! I don’t have the answers for everything!” [Y/N] retorted. Regulus groaned as he turned around, intent on picking up where he left off in his book,” but I do know that when the time comes, whatever remnants of a plan you do have, you’ll be too exhausted to do anything about it!”

Regulus stopped in his step as he stared at the rack of spices before him, afraid of meeting his friend’s eyes. He took a deep breath, composed himself, and turned around. His eyes had yet to meet [Y/N]’s as they shifted throughout the room.

“Why are you—ugh,” Regulus sighed as he ran his hands through his hair,” I just—this is how I work, [Y/N]. You’ve known it since 2nd year. Even when I stop, I can’t stop. When I go to sleep at night, my mind is still racing with all this bullshit about purebloods and Muggles and—.”

“But you can’t just—.”

“—And the fucking potions test you won’t stop telling me about! There’s so many things in my mind that I think Bellatrix’s head looks healthy compared to mine! I can’t stop thinking about my family, my house, even Sirius for Godric’s sake! I can’t stop worrying that if I were to put a pause for even a sliver of a second, everything I’ll ever love will cease to exist. I can’t risk that [Y/N]. Not for a second. Not when I have so much on the line.”

[Y/N] looked down at the floor as her friend’s words ran rapid through her head. She touched her forehead with the palm of her hand, dragging them down until they met the bridge of her nose.

“Fucking—I know that, Regulus. I just—,” [Y/N] gave a pained expression as she pinched the bridge of her nose,”—fuck! I just want you to be okay, ok? You’re my friend. My best friend, actually. It hurts like hell because there’s nothing I can do about it. I can get you as many books as you want, sneak out around the castle as much as you want, lie to as many people as you want , but I can’t—no. I won’t stand here and watch you whittle away. Not when I can do something to prevent it.”

Regulus swallowed hard as his eyes met [Y/N]’s and the pit that had been growing inside his chest began to increase, pushing painfully against his rips. He felt his lungs constrict and if Regulus didn’t know any better, he’d say someone casted a Crucio curse on him and it was slowly ripping his body from the inside out.

“I just can’t let him win, [Y/N],” Regulus mumbled. He leaned back on the table and pressed both hands to his face, rubbing at his eyes as tears began to build up in the corners,” I can’t let that thing win, no matter what.”

Shielding his face from [Y/N], Regulus quietly sobbed as his friend stood in front of him, tears threatening to pour out from her eyes as well. Taking a deep, shaky breath, [Y/N] slowly walked towards her friend and gently wrapped her arms around him. Despite the slight size difference, [Y/N] was able to situate her friend so that his face was buried in the crook of her neck. She combed a hand through his inky, black locks.

“I know won’t,” [Y/N] said,” but I highly doubt snake face over there is going to wait for you to take a quick power nap. We’ll beat him, but not like this.”

Regulus’s grip tightened around [Y/N] and she felt his lips pull into a smile as a low chuckle emitted from him.

“It’s amazing how you’re not a Ravenclaw with how much wisdom you spout out.”

“Well I’m far more interested in my friends then a bloody book,” [Y/N] stepped back, hands still wrapped around Regulus, and smiled,” now let’s clean up and head to bed. You deserve at least one good night’s rest.”

#regulus black #regulus black imagine #regulus black x reader #harry potter #my writing #harry potter imagines #reader insert #hufflepuff #slytherin

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imagintheworldaway · 4 years ago

Text

Together

Anonymous asked: Hello! Can you do a Harryxfem! Reader where people see how Harry looks at the reader (calorie challenge- rematch (time stamp 27:17)) and the reader is so oblivious to Harry’s feeling for her because he broke up with his long-term ex last fall and she doesn’t want to read deep into it and just keeps telling people that they’re just friends even though everyone can see past the bull crap and keeps shipping them because they’re very similar and meant to be and after months of Harry pinning after her he tries to move on and go on dates (which fails but she doesn’t know that it’s not working out for him ) so she starts seeing someone and magically somehow end up together and become the “it” couple because of how blunt and honest they are. Sorry that was long! Hope you can write it thanks!

A/N Good gosh this is a long one. I hope you enjoy! Requests are open

Sitting on the sofa next to Cal, snuggled in a mountain of blankets in Harrys apartment whilst the boys filmed a video was always fun. They were filming the 100,000 calorie challenge and it was JJ, Vik , Cal and Harrys turn to be eating the calories. We were sat watching JJ as he revealed he had absolutely failed the challenge to everyones surprise. The boys all started to complain as I giggled at the failure which was JJ right now. I felt a slight nudge on my side and Cal not so discreetly nodding towards Harry, I looked over at him and smiled but he averted his gaze from me and buried his head into the massive bear still complaining at JJ as it was revealed he had messed up the challenge even more by starting before the official time.

After JJ’s little mess up they decided to make the fried mars bars, and I feel as though even saying it is cause for disaster. The boys were all crowded around the counter, just making a mess really, not much surprise there. I was happy in my own little world scrolling through instagram with the boys chatter in the background when I started to smell something burning and a mass amount of smoke from the boys. “Oh my god you idiots” I said matter of factly before grabbing the pan and holding it out the window, not wanting the apartment to stink of burnt mars bars as the guys tried to switch off the fire alarm.

Once everything had calmed down I started to clean up as the boys ate the left over chocolates. “ you don’t have to clean up Y/N” Harry said to me as he bought over a plate to the sink. “Its ok I don’t mind, something to do at least” I smiled up at him. “You sure? I feel bad” he said scratching his shoulder and giving me an awkward smile. “I’m sure, go enjoy your food” I giggled pushing the boy away from me slightly. I finished up the washing as the boys chatted over their takeaways trying to figure out how many calories they were up to. I popped the remaining dishes in the dish washer and popped it on for the boys.

Once they had finished Cal and I bid the boys goodbye and hoped in an Uber, we lived in the same apartment complex so it made sense that we shared rides just about everywhere. “Soooo” cal started tapping his his legs to the beat of the song that the Uber driver had popped on for us. i gave him a questioning glance as I sent my text to Harry, informing him I had popped the dish washer on and for him not to forget about it. “When are you two finally going to get together” Cal said peering over my shoulder and trying to take a peek at my texts with Harry. I just scoffed switching off my phone and turning my head to look at Cal. “Look he got out of a long term relationship not even six months ago, he just needs a friend right now, and that’s all I am, a friend, plus even if he hadn’t just gotten out of a relationship, well I don’t think he’d be interested in me anyway, like I said I’m just a friend” I shrugged to Cal giving him a half smile trying to cover the sadness which was evident on my face. “I don’t know Y/N if you ask me, or well any of the lads he looks at you like your a gift here gracing us all with your presence. like your some type of angel, he likes you, he really does, he’s just scared to ruin what you have” Cal stated as we hoped out the uber and made our ways into the lift. “Well I don’t want to sound rude, but I didn’t ask Cal, I don’t need my hopes being brought up just for it all to be speculation.” I stated matter of factly. “This is me, I’ll see you later yh?” I questioned Cal who just pursed his lips and nodded to me giving a small see ya.

I really wasn’t trying to be rude but I had had my heartbroken so many times, and I don’t want to start getting my hopes up about Harry if it is just all speculation and some sort of narrative the lads were making up for themselves. I slumped down on my bed and posted a selfie on instagram asking people what they want to know about me. I wasn’t a huge YouTuber but I did have a large instagram following meaning the questions flooded in within an instant. There was the usual that I answered such as my favourite colour, what am I having for dinner, best place I had ever visited and so on. After a few more generic questions someone asked what my favourite picture was. I scrolled through my camera roll and found one of Harry and I at winter wonderland. we were both wearing Santa hats and he was giving me a piggy bag as I held onto a large teddy he had won me moments before. I captioned it ‘Christmas with my Bestfriend, look at how goofy he looks @wroetoshaw’ I giggled as I posted the pic remembering that day. it was a rare day off for the both of us and with Harrys break up still fresh I decided we should go to Winter Wonderland and just have fun. Which we did, it was one of my most treasured memories with him. He had taken his breakup so hard that I felt it was important that he had a friend around who could take the crying and emotions, someone to just cuddle with and forget about the world. And over the past few months I realised that my feelings for Harry had grown, but he was still hurting and there was no way that I was being any boys re-bound.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to blaring light through the blinds of my lounge. I groaned to myself before getting up and trudging to my bedroom to sort myself out. i looked at my phone and I had a few texts from Harry. I smiled as I read them.

‘Thank you! Almost forgot, you are honestly the best Xx’

‘You alive???? Xx’

‘Good night Xx’

‘Like the insta pic’

I furrowed my eyebrows at the last text. It was sent only minutes after the goodnight text and it didn’t have any of the kisses we usually put on the end of our texts to each other. I also hadn’t got a good morning text from Harry, that was particularly strange because I have always gotten a Good morning and Good night text from him for the past few months with out fail. I just shrugged it off before replying,

‘Haha no problem! I fell asleep as soon as I got home I’m sorry :( wanna meet up later? Xx’

I smiled at my reply before going to my bedroom and changing to look more presentable. I checked my phone and it was almost lunch meaning Cal was coming over to film a video with me. just as I re adjusted my hair for the a millionth time I heard a knock on the door signalling that cal was here. “Hello stranger” I smiled letting him into my apartment with the array of crisps and snacks he had in his arms. We were filming a British corner shop mukbang whilst answering twitter questions. As Cal settled himself in my studio I helped by opening the array of snacks and cans of drink that he had bought for us. “Hey really weird question but have you heard from Harry today?” I questioned trying not to sound so desperate as to the whereabouts of the boy. “Uh yh messaging me all morning, think he’s got something on tonight. He not told you?” Cal looked up from the array of junk raising his eyebrows at me as I just shook my head in disbelief that he was ignoring me. As we settled in our seats and I turned the camera on I sent Harry a quick text.

‘Hey have I done something wrong?? :( Xx’

The video was going amazing. Cal and I just naturally bounced off of each other and the questions the fans were giving us were quite juicy. “Alright, alright, I’ve got one. Y/N has Harry asked you out yet or is he still being a melt? From @CalFreezy” I giggled at the question and raised my eyebrows at Cal. “These are meant to be from Fans” I retorted to Cal telling him off a little. “Yh Freezy is your biggest fan he’s always nattering on about you and talking about you moving in with them when Harry gets the guts” Cal defended himself causing me to burst out laughing. “Well we all know Harry and I are friends, I love him very much but that’s as deep as it goes” I replied to Cals previous question from Freezy, slight sadness barely evident in my voice. “Is that the only thing that goes deep” Cal stated before bursting out laughing at himself and falling back in his chair ultimately falling off of it causing me to laugh. “Well that’s it for today guys thank you for watching and thanks to this idiot for joining me” I smiled at the camera before shutting it off and helping Cal from the floor.

“You really need to stop that you know? You can’t force anything to happen” I said matter of factly towards cal as he nibbled on some Pringles. “You see Y/N I’m actually Cal from the future and I’m just stating facts” he gave me a cheesy grin as I tutted at him and rolled my eyes. I was taken out of my trance by a text from my phone. “Alright ditch me for lover boy” Cal called after me. I opened my phone to see it was from Harry but it wasn’t what I was expecting.

‘Hey Y/N, we shouldn’t hang out anymore it makes Belle uncomfortable.’

“Cal what the fuck is this” I shouted to my friend. I heard the thudding of his feet and turned around to show him the message I had just received. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Belle Belle Belle Oh Belle, her really?” Cal scrunched his nose up at me. “Ummm elaborate, who’s Belle?” I pressed for him to release more info to me. “Oh Harry went on a date with her like three weeks ago, looks like it worked out, well for them I guess” Cal shrugged piecing the different parts of the puzzle together for me. “Oh, wow, so he is just gonna drop me like that, like I’m, I’m nothing, like i wasn’t the one there for him when he was mourning over his last breakup. Well that’s a kick in the teeth” I said starting to sniffle, tears threatening to break their way out of my eyes and my mood instantly dropping to nothing. “Hey no don’t cry” Cal said engulfing me in a hug, which I gladly melted into. “If he couldn’t see what he had with you then that boy is more blind than we all thought.” Cal reassured me rubbing my back. “Plus your make up looks too nice to cry it off” Cal said catching a stray tear from my face and making me giggle a little. “Oh Cal why can’t we fall in love?” I questioned sniffing and straightening out my clothes. “Because that would be like fucking my sister and that’s weird” Cal stated making me giggle.

I don’t think anyone could quite get their heads wrapped around the fact that Harry was with someone new, especially because that someone was not me. For the next month I got fans tweeting me asking if Harry and I had broken up or if he had gone crazy. I also got sorry looks from my friends. Always being placed in the furthest seat away from Harry, always given excuses as to why I couldn’t come to shoots. It sucked majorly. And the worst part about all of this is everyone felt like they had to tread on eggshells around me, as if I wasn’t a fully grown woman who could handle these situations.

I knocked on Simons apartment door before he opened it replying to someone about something. “Oh Y/N you alright” he said quickly closing the door a little. “Yh Talia said I could pop round and grab my camera that she borrowed.” I said smiling at the lanky man. “Oh yh well um come in, just be careful yh” Simon nodded at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and just nodded at his comment following him through to the living room. And as soon as I saw the tall figure sat next to Harry with an unimpressed look on her face I realised why Simon gave me such a warning. “Heyyyy Y/N Is here” Ethan called standing up giving me a hug making me giggle a little. “Yh Talia knicked my camera again” I stated smiling at the girl who blushed a little realising she still hadn’t returned my device. “Oh so that’s Y/N” a snotty voice said causing everyone to quiet down and all eyes turning in her direction. “Yup, the one and only” I smiled back at her trying to be as nice as possible. “Belle right? Nice to meet you” I smiled back at her trying to make conversation in the silent room. I rocked back and forth on my heels for a while, Belle gave me a good look up and down, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if wanting to comment something. Before she could I saw Harry whisper something to her and she scoffed. “If I have an opinion I’m going to say it. And I have many about her” Belle said loud enough for everyone to hear whilst pointing at me. “Here I found it” Talia smiled at me handing me my camera before noticing the mood of the room.

“Ok well, I will be off then, lovely to see you all and to meet you Belle” I stated the last part through gritted teeth before spinning around and making my way to the door. “Even worse from the back” I heard Belle try and whisper to I presume Harry. I stopped in my tracks and raised my eyebrows. The audacity of this girl, how dare she disrespect me in front of all my friends. I turned around to meet her eyes with a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. Before I could say anything though Talia butted in. “You know what, you do not talk to my friend like that, I have barely known you a month and I am so sick of you already, please leave before I do or say something I regret” she smiled at Belle joining me by my side and linking arms with me. Belle just looked around at everyone, with everyone just averting their gaze and waiting for something big to happen. All she did was huff, grabbing Harrys hand and storming out of the apartment with him.

“Jesus Y/N what did you do to make him choose her, she’s like an angry controlling goblin” Ethan huffed as soon as we all heard the door close. “Hey, I got cut off a long time ago, ask him not me” I giggled before thanking Talia and leaving the apartment to go home.

I was lounging around my apartment, Ethans words spiralling around my head. I decided tonight was for me. I popped on my favourite movie and rummaged through my freezer finding some ben and Jerrys and starting to scoff down the tub. This sofa must be super man or something because I had soon fallen asleep, I was only awoken by loud continuous knocking at my door. I regained my focus and gaged my surrounding before wrapping a blanket around myself and making my way to the door. As soon as I opened it I was pulled into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so fucking sorry, its you its always been you, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just needed someone to fill the void and she was ok for a week but I need you. You are all I need, all I want, please forgive me I love you” as much as I just wanted to melt into his arms I pulled my self back so that we were an arm lengths apart. “You best come in” I sighed. I finished the teas and made my way over to Harry, passing him his favourite mug of mine. I crossed my legs as we sat at opposite ends of the sofa in silence.

“What about Belle?” I broke the silence, harry whipped his head up to look at me. “Look I’m so sorry she was a mistake and I should never have even given her shot. She’s so nasty and I could never forgive myself. This past month without you has felt like my heart was ripped in two. I’ve been so miserable and then when I saw you today I felt like I had been given a new chance at life. I get it if you hate me but I need you so bad and I cant live without you.” Harry opened his heart to me for the second time that evening. “You’re such a dummy Harry” I said with a sigh placing my mug on the coffee table. Harry looked at me as if he was broken by the words I just said. I just shook my head at him before leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his lips. The moment seemed to last forever. It was like in the movies when time slowed down and fireworks erupted around the couple who after all their trials and tribulations finally found each other. “I can’t help but love you Harry” I whispered only inches from his face as I pulled back for air, a sly grin on my face. Harrys arms snaked around my wait brining me into him for another soft kiss. i leant my head on his chest listening to his heart, thumping like it was going to break out and slap me in the face. “So what now” harry mumbled into my hair. I leant up so my eyes met his. “Well you will ask me on a date to a nice restaurant where we end up getting a little too drunk. Then we walk along the Thames, watching people walk by when at the perfect moment when the city goes silent you ask me to be your girlfriend and then we come back here and spend the night together. But with a little more physical activity than were used to” I grinned at him causing him to chuckle. “So you forgive me?” He said looking at me with pleading eyes. “God yes I forgive you, I could never be mad at you” I smiled at him. How could I? I did truly love him and it was as simple as that.

After a few months, and the date Harry had promised, we told our friends and announced to our followers that we had finally decided to get together. apparently it was quite obvious as the boys had started taking bets as to when we would tell them about our new relationship. The fans seemed to love it as well, always receiving amazing and supportive comments on all of our posts and videos that we did together. Although we were young I think people saw how care free and happy we made each other. Most importantly how much we loved each other.

#Harry Lewis x reader #Harry Lewis one shot #Harry Lewis imagine #wroetoshaw #harry lewis #w2s #sidemen

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mdawritings · 4 years ago

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 13

II.II

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Song(s): “Mr. Perfectly Fine” by Taylor Swift

You find yourself having more sleepless nights than ever before. Every time you close your eyes you’re facing the terrifying horrors your brain has managed to conjure up. The sounds of people screaming for help as debris rains down around you. You’re fighting against the arms of two firemen. Someone has to help them!

Your alarm is still hours away from ringing, yet you glance at the time every few minutes, every minute dragging along like it’s an hour. Your eyes are glued to your ceiling fan, watching as it swings back and forth slightly with each rotation of the blades.

After your first case with the BAU, things have started to slow down. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t have cases every single day of the week. Most of your days of work are summarized by piles and piles of paperwork. The team seems to be perpetually behind on every case report. The team tries to write up a general profile for every case that requests the BAU assistance that you can’t help with in person. In addition, Strauss loves to load the whole team with special talking events and lecture series. There’s hardly a day where everyone is in the office at the same time and when you are, you’re all soon called away on a case.

You haven’t been called away on a case since your first with the team. You actually don’t mind doing paperwork most of the day. The main reason is that it gives you an easy way to stay away from Hotch. You’ve jokingly struck up a deal that for every one of your files that Reid walks up to Hotch’s office for you, you’ll buy him a coffee. So far you owe him nearly two weeks of coffee.

Hotch is not completely oblivious. He’s caught on to your little game and so far, he’s been kind enough to give you some distance. He’s stopped pressuring you to talk to him. Maybe he finally sensed the raw emotion of your voice the other day in his office.

You resign yourself to the fact that you’re not going to fall back to sleep before your alarm rings. You pull the sheets off of you, kicking your feet off to the side, wrapping your arms around your body tightly as a shiver runs through you. The temperature in Virginia is dropping rapidly as winter takes over. You love when it’s cold. You love the way the cold, blustery air bites at your skin and makes you tingly. It’s a nice reminder that you’re alive. After everything you’ve been through, you’re still standing. You can still feel something. You can feel the cold.

You go through the motions of your morning routine, taking a shower to wake yourself up, brushing your teeth, pulling on some slacks and a nice blouse. You turn on some music while you get ready but even your favorite songs can’t seem to pull your head out from the haze you are living in recently. Your body is working on autopilot because before you know it, you’ve finished your makeup. It’s not even 6 AM.

You pop half of a bagel into the toaster, make a cup of coffee in your thermos, and then cover the bagel with cream cheese and honey. You look around your half-empty apartment, taking your time to eat your small breakfast.

Today is just going to be one of those particularly difficult and painful days. You can sense it. Your body feels lit up with nerves. Eating your breakfast is difficult, just the taste of the food making you sick to your stomach.

Your thoughts bounce between two topics: your past in the FBI and your past with Aaron Hotchner. It’s hard to believe that the Aaron Hotchner you see every day is the same Aaron Hotchner you once knew. You glance at the time, if you don’t leave soon you‘ll miss the train and be stuck at home for another hour. You rush out the door, walking to the train station. You settle into a seat, pulling your headphones on, hoping to drown out the rattling and humming of the train. You reach down to dig through your bag for your thermos of coffee. Shit.

The thermos is sitting on your counter. You can practically see it in your mind, right there on the edge of the counter. It’s almost become a joke at this point the horrible quality coffee of the BAU. You and Reid have a running joke about starting up a collection fund for better quality coffee, at least for your BAU floor. Nearly every team member brings their own coffee, settling for the shitty stuff in the conference room or on the jet in place of their second or third cup that day.

You get off the train, tempted to call Reid to bring you coffee, but according to your deal, you’re supposed to be the one doing that for him. You let out a tired sigh, calling a car to drive you to the office, wincing at the cost of your morning commute. You really need to get a car.

The parking lot is almost completely empty. You swipe your ID at the door. The night guard hasn’t switched out for the morning guard yet. You recognize him from some of the late nights you’ve had within your first week of work and give a small smile and nod. Your heart thumps into your throat every time you step onto the elevator in this building. All this in an attempt to avoid being alone with Hotch.

You reach forward to press floor six, when a voice calls out, footsteps moving rapidly towards the elevator, “Hold the elevator please!” You see a black briefcase swing up between the closing doors as you lunge for the door hold button. “Thank you—” There’s a slight hesitation in Hotch’s voice as he pauses and looks over you. “Agent.” He steps into the elevator. You make room for him, putting as much space between the two of you as possible.

You attempt your best, most polite, professional smile and nod, “Good morning, Sir.” You rock back and forth on your toes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him open his mouth to say something before closing it again. There’s a long pause.

Should you say something? A normal employee would ask their boss how they are and make small talk. But this isn’t really the most normal boss/employee relationship. It seems frivolous to make small talk with someone who has seen the most intimate parts of you.

“You’re here early again,” Hotch finally speaks up. The elevator’s cool blue fluorescent lighting somehow emphasizes just how warm those brown eyes of his are. Those intimate parts of you that you keep shrouded from the naked eye, every single weakness you have shoved down, seem to be on full display in the way that he looks at you.

“I was already up. Thought I’d come in and get some work done,” The only way to keep the profiler in him at bay is to tell him some version of the truth. It’s true. You were already awake. You did decide it would just be better to come in and get started on work. However, you know that the exhaustion in your face is something you can’t hide away from his analytical eyes. There’s something in his expression that you can’t quite place as he gazes back at you. It’s a cross between disbelief and pity.

Pity. That’s definitely something you don’t want. Especially not from him. But maybe it’s not pity? Concern?

“I work out in the mornings,” Now you’re just fully lying, “I finished early and thought why not come in.”

“Y/N-” His voice lowers in volume as if someone’s listening to your conversation. He says your name like it’s a swear word. Like the name is some secret, forbidden phrase that he shouldn’t be saying, especially not at work. The elevator doors ring and they open to the BAU floor. Thankfully, there’s a worker from the night crew waiting to get on, interrupting whatever Hotch planned to say, and you’re quick to step off, moving around the man.

Hotch knows better than to follow after you to continue the conversation. There’s no one else in the offices yet, but the elevator is like neutral territory. A space separate from the job. Some sort of limbo between personal and professional. If the elevator is neutral, the BAU floor is the war front.

The situation is comical. You speed away from him, but he has to walk right past you to get to his office. What you don’t expect is the small coffee cup that he places on your desk before continuing right up to his office.

You remember him holding a tray of coffees in the elevator. Did he always intend to give you one of them? Is this attempt at a truce?

You remove the lid from the cup. The steam erupts wildly, just the smell of the coffee alone enough to already start perking you up. Once the initial small burst of heat clears, you stare down into the cup, expecting to see completely black coffee, the way that Hotch takes his. To your surprise, it's a light caramel color and you can smell a slight sweetness. You take a long sip. It’s perfect. You haven’t changed the way you take your coffee. He remembers your order. Is that supposed to mean something?

You realize you’ve been staring into your coffee for too long once you see Morgan and Garcia step off the elevator, his arm casually thrown around her shoulders. You can’t hear their conversation, but she says something, vibrantly gesturing with her hands, as Morgan lets out a laugh, flashing those perfect teeth of his. He gives Garcia’s arm a reassuring squeeze. She turns and scurries off to her little lair while Morgan turns towards the bullpen, digging around for a file in his bag.

“You’re always here early, new girl,” Morgan teases with a playful smack of the file to your head as he walks past.

“I have a name, Morgan,” You roll your eyes, attempting to fix your hair.

“What can I say? I’m a big fan of nicknames,” He grins and starts to walk towards the stairs.

“Wait! Can you take this file up to Hotch?” You hold out the papers from your desk. You give him your best, most innocent, pleading eyes. Usually, that works pretty well to get Reid to do things for you. Flirting really trips Reid up. The problem with Morgan is that he doesn’t get flustered or uncomfortable like Reid, he plays into your flirtations. You get along much better with Morgan now that he’s had about a week to warm up to you.

He still doesn’t trust you and you can tell that he questions your skills. So occasionally, you’ll indulge him. You’ll ask him for advice on something you’re working on. You’ll ask him to check your work before you hand it in to Hotch. You want him to know you respect him.

You don’t trust easily and neither does he, a quality that you have both noticed in each other. Morgan doesn’t push you to indulge him with your past. The other team members haven’t pushed you necessarily, but they seem to dance around the topic of your dismissal. Morgan avoids the topic entirely. You get the feeling that you and Morgan are way more similar than it would appear on the surface.

“Pretty boy gets free coffee, what do I get?” He stops and walks back closer to you.

“What do you want?” You smirk and lean forward placing your chin in the palm of your hand.

Morgan pauses and thinks for a second, “You come out with the team for drinks sometime, first round on you.”

You roll your eyes, “Fine. Deal.” You hold out the files and he takes them with a smile.

“I would’ve done it just to be nice, you know,” He laughs and walks up to knock on Hotch’s door. “Just wanted to see what I could get out of the new girl.” He opens the door, disappearing into the office. Emily finally arrives for the day, Reid trailing close behind her.

“All I’m saying is there are so many scientific fallacies built into the Jurassic Park franchise that it's totally reasonable to watch the films as comedies. I mean mixing Jurassic DNA with any other species just produces new species, not the same exact dinosaurs from the Jurassic period.” Reid rambles on and Emily just shoots you a look.

“This is why I don’t offer to carpool anymore,” She taunts and smiles at you.

“Not even me?” You smile, giving Reid a playful kick under the desks as he sits down.

“Are you going to annoy me about the minuscule details of every great award-winning movie?” She raises a brow, unpacking her belongings, setting a large cup of steaming coffee down.

“Well, I don’t know shit about science,” You shake your head, “I might complain about different book to screen adaptations and the number of details lost and the symbolism lost in the transfer of the work to the screen.”

“It’s moments like these that make me hate that the rest of the team has their own offices,” Prentiss sighs, already reaching for her headphones. You’re not really supposed to listen to music while working, but she breaks that rule all the time. She argues it helps her focus, but you really think it helps distract her from the horrors on the page. In the past week, you’ve learned that Emily Prentiss is great at compartmentalizing.

She’s easily able to push aside personal for professional, however, that comes at a great mental cost for her. She reminds you a little bit of Hotch in that way. She pushes the personal feelings down so deep that it’s hard for her to retrieve them when she needs to, so she’s wary of how detached she gets. But being emotionally detached from the work is the only way to avoid pain. So she listens to music.

Only two case reports later, the day is almost over. The days of sleep deprivation are finally taking a toll on your work ethic. Your brain is in a haze. You thought the two servings of caffeine would help clear your mind, but instead, they’ve just heightened your anxiety, making you more on edge than you already were. It doesn’t help that every few minutes your eyes drift up to the blinds of Hotch’s office, looking up at him while he focuses down on his work.

How can he be so… okay? He pretends as if your presence isn’t immensely distracting. Maybe it isn’t for him. Whatever he felt for you all those years ago was never love, you know that. Maybe he liked the ego boost of the way you worshipped him, hanging on to every last word out of his mouth. Maybe he just liked your body. He broke your heart, yet he sits in his office like everything is perfect.

“Today’s cases?” Reid stands next to your desk, a large stack of files in his arms already.

“How do you get those done so fast?” You shake your head at him and hand him your two, very slim, files.

“Eidetic memory, high-speed reading, genius-level IQ,” Emily pipes up without looking at the two of you. “Any of those options is a good explanation.”

“Thank you, Spence. I am forever in your debt,” You tease him as he gives a cute little tight-lipped smile, rushing up the stairs to hand in the work from the day.

As if on cue, Garcia, Morgan, and JJ step into the bullpen, their bags slung over their shoulders and Rossi comes down from the catwalk to meet the three.

“So how about that drink now?” Morgan once again has an arm wrapped around Garcia who then glances between the two of you.

“Yes! The newbie has to join us for drinks!” She smiles wildly, “Oh I just know you’re going to be so much fun. Plus, I have so much I want to interrogate you about.” It’s a light-hearted joke, a turn of phrase, but you know that Garcia probably vetted you within minutes of your time at the BAU. Penelope Garcia has the biggest heart of anyone you’ve ever met. She has so much love and joy for her family, this team, but you also know that she will do anything to keep her family safe. She’s not a violent person, but you know that if she had to die to protect this stand-in family, she would.

You glance among the faces of your new team, each more hopeful and excited than the last. They’ve all been immensely welcoming, despite their individual reservations about you. “I guess I could be down for a drink or two.” You start packing your bag. You hear Hotch’s office door open.

“Pretty boy, you down for drinks? Y/L/N is buying the first round!” Morgan calls up to Reid. You smile up at him, but it quickly drops when you see him.

Reid’s eyes flit to yours and there’s an apologetic look on his face, “Y/N, Hotch wants to talk to you.” The team exchanges a series of looks, your face getting warm as soon as you can feel all eyes on you.

You wave at them dismissively, “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up if I have time,” You force a smile, pulling your bag onto your shoulder, practically dragging yourself up the stairs. As you pass Reid, he gives your hand a small touch. It’s small, but it means the world to you. You know how weird Reid is about contact and germs. He hugs or touches the team because he trusts them. He feels a sense of family with them. It’s only been a week, yet you and Reid have shared countless passionate conversations about books.

He gives you recommendations and you rush to buy them. You indulge his rambling rants. Sometimes you ride the train together. He gets off much later than you on the train, taking it all the way to DC, but he makes the ride seem like seconds, not minutes. You love to see what people are passionate about and Spencer Reid is passionate about everything. He loves to learn, a feeling you relate to heavily.

You knock on the hardwood door, the nameplate seeming to stare back at you, taunting you. It isn’t new that a door with Aaron Hotchner’s name on it haunts you, but this one is different. It holds so much more potential. Just a little strip of metal adhered to the dark wood. Yet it holds your past life with him and about a million different possible future ones both with and without him.

You hear a deep ‘come in’ through the door and push it open to see Hotch hunched over, focused on the work on his desk, the same way he’s looked all day through his blinds. “Please, sit,” He reaches for a pen and your eyes go to the form on his desk.

You smooth out your pants as you take the seat across from him. “You wanted to see me?”

“Interesting system you’ve worked out with Morgan and Reid.” If you weren’t looking directly at him you would swear he was smiling through the comment, but instead, you're faced with those emotionless eyes of his.

“I’m sorry,” You stumble over your words a little. Did he call you up here to reprimand you for not walking your own work up to his office? “It’s just a little silly thing I was doing. It’s childish I’ll—”

“That’s not why I needed to see you,” He cuts you off, waving his hand. He leans forward, one arm resting on the armrest of his chair, the other hand holding his pen. He rubs his fingers together with the pen in his hand.

Needed to see you. He didn’t mean those words that way, but your brain takes them and runs with them, forcing you to need a second to breathe. As always, Hotch sucks the oxygen out of your lungs, leaving you breathless, scrambling for some sense of sanity.

“Strauss suggested—” He pauses and corrects himself, “Well, Strauss requested an evaluation of you after your first week on the job and I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“Right now?” You question him and he gives a slight nod in response.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and Strauss wants to make sure you’re really ready for this job.”

“I am. I was gone for a year. I don’t need more time off. I need to get back to work and back to feeling useful.” You answer decisively. It’s that simple. He has your psych evaluations and your therapists notes. So does Strauss. What more do they want from you?

You can tell he takes note of your exact word choice, eyes narrowing as you say ‘useful.’He jots something down on the pad in front of him, “You’ve gotten great work done these past few days. You’re an excellent agent and you have a real skill for profiling.”

“Thank you, Sir,” You play off the compliment, but truthfully, it terrifies you how much you feel joy coursing through you at the praise. His approval still means everything you. You can’t and won’t be dependent upon him. “The rest of the team definitely has a lot more experience though.”

“Is that why you ask Reid questions that you know the answer to? Or ask Morgan to look over your work even though you’ve already checked it over twice and know that it’s perfect?” You meet his gaze reluctantly and this time there is a small upturn to his lips at the corners.

You’re rendered speechless temporarily. Fair enough. Just as much as you’ve been profiling and analyzing him, he;’s been observant. He’s paying attention to your behavior. That is his job after all. “Excuse me?”

“You want everyone here to like you. You want to prove yourself to everyone, to me. You don’t need to do that.” The look in his eyes makes your heart pound aggressively against your ribcage so wildly that you’re convinced he can see your chest moving with each thud. He’s saying he’s noticed the signs of sleep deprivation. That’s what the coffee was about. That’s why he’s called you in for this evaluation. “I think you’ve been through something traumatic. Now, I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through, I understand that the details of your removal from your original post have been made confidential but I think this job takes a lot from you.” He scoffs a little and shakes his head, “No actually, this job will take everything from you. It’ll eat you alive, but you need to find a way not to let it.”

You’re sure that the state of both of you is enough to scare off anyone from wanting to join the BAU. Both of you are poster children for sleep deprivation. You’re working yourself overtime to prove yourself to the team while distracting your mind from the past. And Hotch? It’s clear he works himself overtime to make up for something. You haven’t quite figured out what yet, but he’s trying to make up for a past mistake. He’s trying to be the best that he can in his position. What did the job take from him that’s left him a shell of himself?

“Is there a question in there, sir?” You try to play off the instinct to snap at him.

“Do you have someone to talk to?” There’s that confusing look on his face again. The one that makes you feel like you’re being pitied, “You don’t have to talk to me, I mean, of course, you can talk to me, but you need to talk to someone. Do you have someone?”

You nod, “I can always call my therapist if I need her. And if I need someone, I’ll find someone. No need to worry, Sir.”

“Hotch,” He corrects. Your answer doesn’t satisfy him. “I’ve seen a pattern before, with agents that come back from trauma. They’re desperate for acceptance and approval, yet they have trouble trusting their coworkers. This team can’t function without trust. So do you?”

“Do I what?” You’re clenching your toes in your shoes, in order to hide the anger that the question fuels inside you. With every question, this feels more like an interrogation.

“Trust your fellow agents? Trust this team? Trust me?” He waves his hand around like it’s the simplest question he could ask you as if he hasn’t given you a million different reasons to be distrustful.

“I think trust is a fickle thing. Easy to lose, nearly impossible to gain back when lost. In addition, it takes time to build trust.” Your hands fidget a little at your sides and his eyes dart down to notice the behavior. “I don’t expect any of the other agents to trust me right away but I don’t plan on giving them any reason not to. I hope they’re just as understanding with me as I am with them.”

With the two of you, it’s never been about what is said, but always what goes unsaid, and this conversation, so much seems to be going unsaid.

“This team only works because we value cooperation and we respect one another,” He nods and looks back at the form in front of him, “I’ll be sure to tell Strauss how well you’re fitting in.” As he continues to talk, you gather up your things. “I’m impressed by how much you’ve accomplished these past few years in the bureau.”

“Thank you, Sir.” There’s so much more you want to say to him. There’s so much you want to ask. You want to yell and scream and curse him out, but you also want to throw it all in his face. How much you achieved without his help. You’re almost out the door but you can’t seem to bite your tongue any longer. When you look back at him, he’s standing, collecting his things, “How are you so… so okay?”

“I’m sorry?” His brows furrow into confusion.

“I can’t breathe around you. I can’t think straight. I can’t get my work done,” You let out, your voice tired and weak as you let the truth out, “I go home and I can’t get you off my mind. How are you just so professional and composed as if I’m just like any other employee? Did I really mean so little to you? Did I delude myself that much?”

Hotch pauses and clears his throat. He closes himself off to you by looking at his work, as if the answer he’s looking for is in one of those files, “That was… was a long time ago and I think it’s just best we focus on our responsibilities here as agents, rather than indulge the past.”

“Unbelievable,” You scoff, “It’s sad that you haven’t changed. You are still so opposed to letting yourself feel anything. I can barely get up each morning and bring myself into work to face you, but glad to know you’re doing great.” You wait a moment to see if he has anything to say, but he keeps that stern emotionless veil over his face. “Good night, Sir.” Just like a week ago, you’re almost out the door. Almost free.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” Hotch calls out. You freeze.

“Bullshit,” You breathe out clenching your fists at your side, trying to take another step away from him.

“You were important to me. I cared about you.” He hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words, choosing them carefully, “You’re still important to me. I still care about you, now that you’re a member of the team.”

“Bull. Shit.” You grit out, take a few steps closer, forgetting how much taller he is than you, but you’re determined to stand your ground. “How many were there?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many other girls? How many before me?” You shake your head. You’re not sure that you even want the answer. It’s a question that’s stuck with you ever since that day outside of his office so many years ago. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even bother saving you the heartbreak. He welcomed that girl into his office the same way he did to you without thinking twice.

“I–” He’s at a loss for words, pushing his focus down to the papers on his desk, trailing a finger over the edge of the wood, actively avoiding the question.

“It’s not a difficult question, Hotch,” You’re firm with him. Despite his position of authority over you, as he was before, you’re no longer intimidated by the repercussions of speaking out. You have too much dirt on him. Too many things you could throw in his face at this point. He can’t fire you for speaking your mind. You know he won’t. He can’t threaten your career. If he fires you, he has to explain himself to Strauss. What is he going to say? He can’t explain your history together.

“I don’t remember,” He stumbles over his words, “Three... no four. Definitely four.”

You pause. There’s still one question that has weighed on your mind every day for the past eight years, “And after me?” It’s a question you definitely don’t want the answer to, knowing that in all honesty, the answer doesn’t really matter. It won’t change much. You’ve considered every answer to the question. Every alternative hurts. If he did sleep with that student after you, it solidifies your unimportance in his life. If he didn’t, why would he hurt you the way he did?

It’s a question Hotch clearly never thought you’d actually ask. He finally meets your eye contact, “None.”

You scoff, “You’re a liar.”

“I couldn’t... go through with it with anyone else. I just saw you everywhere in that office. Everywhere I looked. I couldn’t erase the traces of you.” He shakes his head, “And I wanted to go through with it.” That stings, “Because I wanted to forget you. Get you out of my mind and I couldn’t.”

You gnaw at your bottom lip, “Clearly you were able to move on pretty easily,” You gesture to the pictures of the blonde women and the little boy on the bookshelf behind him.

That’s when he completely shuts down. Any sense of humanity you were starting to see in him slowly slips away from you. He’s back to that stonewall of a unit chief. You’ve hit a nerve. “That is not a topic up for discussion.”

“How old is your son? Five? Six?” You cross your arms against your chest, “Don’t act like I was important to you if it was that easy for you to move on. It’s funny, you seem to have everyone around here fooled into thinking you’re some morally just, decent man. I wonder if she knows the truth about you.”

Now you’ve really hit a nerve. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about, Agent.” He gathers up the papers on his desk, shoving them into a file. “You’re dismissed. Evaluation is over.”

“Good night,” You pause, “Sir.” you snatch up your bag from the floor. Was that even a real evaluation? Or just an excuse to force you to finally sit down and talk to him? He was prying for personal answers. Do you have someone? Do you? Trust me? What he really meant was, Are you seeing someone? Are you still mad at me? Do you hate me? You made sure he didn’t get those answers. The answers being no and you don’t know. You feel like you don’t even know him. He barely even looks like the man you found yourself hopelessly falling for.

You text Reid that you’re just too tired to meet the team for drinks. Calling a car to take you to the train station.

Hotch has somehow managed to become a completely different person, yet still maintains some similarities to the person he was before. You still think of the same words to describe him, but for entirely different reasons.

He’s firm and stern. Now, in this position, he’s big on following protocol. Following the rules is what has to be done. Following rules and respecting the chain of authority is essential to keeping everyone safe. Before, he didn’t care about rules, but he had high standards of performance.

He’s cold. Before, he was cold to distance you from him. Now he’s cold as if letting someone in might break him. Like you might warm him from the inside out and he might not be able to withstand the heat. Letting someone in might lead to a complete meltdown.

Despite the icy exterior he puts on, you see small glimpses of warmth and care. Care for his team, especially. He’s patient with Garcia. He indulges her quirks. He’s firm with Reid because if not he gets sidetracked pretty quickly. But he’s also gentle with him. He doesn’t cut him off or guide him back on track in a rude manner. He knows when the job is overwhelming for JJ. She fields so many cases, being forced to decide which people most need the help. Every single day this week, you’ve seen them both hunched over his desk pouring over yet another armful of files. He reassures her that they’ve made the right decisions.

So you don’t know if you hate him. You don’t know him. That’s the problem.

By the time you get to your apartment, both the mental and physical exhaustion have finally caught up to you. You open your mailbox, pulling out the mail that’s been accumulating over the past few days. You sort through it quickly, most junk mail and bills. You get to the top of the stairs and unlock your door pushing through and you see a small envelope at the bottom of the handful. There’s no return address, just your name scrawled across the front in almost illegible handwriting.

You furrow your brows, dropping your bags by the door, kicking off your shoes, and walking into your kitchen as you tear at the envelope. As you do, a small square photograph falls out. You reach in for the other small slip of paper. Your heart sinks and you feel a sick sense growing in the pit of your stomach.

On the small paper, in the same scrawl as the front of the envelope: I’m still out there.

You bend down for the photograph that fell. It’s a picture of Hotch, his suit jacket blowing open slightly in the wind. He has his phone in his clutches, pressing it up to his ear. He’s got his briefcase under one arm and a tray of coffee in that hand. You look a little closer and notice the pattern on the tie he’s wearing in the photo… the photo was taken today. You flip over the photo, to see a second and final note.

This is between you and me. Break any of my rules, tell anyone about this, and he dies.

Chapter 14: II.III →

Tag list: @wanniiieeee @art-and-thoughts

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #wanna be yours fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

Text

You Don’t Have To

Happy Birthday @screennamealreadyused !! Your birthday gift is a damijon ficlet. I get the feeling you like overdramatic, soap-opera-y fics based on the kinda stuff you come up with in the server, so hopefully that came across.

What Jon didn’t think other people realized was that Damian, if comfortable enough, enjoyed talking. Of course, the subjects he was interested in were a tad limited, and he mentioned decapitation too often for Jon’s liking, but he enjoyed it. Barring Nightwing, Jon doubted anyone had ever taken the time to sit and listen to what Damian had to say, but Nightwing was his own adult superhero with his own adult life. And despite the fact that Damian was prickly and rude, his holier-than-thou attitude absolutely infuriating, his tendency to just drag Jon wherever he wanted despite the fact that Jon could technically crush him with one foot, despite all of that, Jon decided he wanted to be Damian’s friend. He was interesting, loud and abrasive in a way Smallville never boasted.

Today it was cows. Ma Kent had let Damian milk some of the cows, and now, sitting on the roof of the barn, licking melting ice cream drops off their hands, Damian was telling Jon the story of a couple bulls Ra’s had bought.

“You ever think about going to go visit them?” Jon asked.

“Jon,” Damian said dryly. “Grandfather killed the bulls a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

“Also,” Damian’s voice had dropped, going quiet in a purposefully shy way that Jon had never heard before, “I’m not even sure I would be welcomed back.”

“What?” Jon said, almost on instinct. “That’s nuts! I mean, I know your Grandad is a crazy assassin or something, but your mom...she loves you right?”

“She does,” Damian said, then added, “sort of.”

“You can’t only sort of love someone,” Jon said, because Mom was sharp and pointy, her lips turned up in a smirk as she chased down a story, her fingernails tapping on a paper pad. But she tried to make Jon cookies even though she always burnt them and called Kon over so they could do their nails together and told Jon bedtime stories and she loved him.

Damian hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. “My mother wanted a perfect son. One she could use to reclaim her supposed place by Father’s side, one that would take over Batman title.”

“But...” Jon urged on.

“But I don’t think Batman was ever meant to be a legacy, not the way Robin or Batgirl were. And,” Damian paused, growing so quiet Jon had to use his superhearing to make out what Damian mumbled. “I don’t really want to be Batman.”

Damian cringed, as if expecting Jon to say something cutting, something admonishing. Jon just said the first thing that came into his head.

“You don’t have to.”

Startled, Damian looked up. “What?”

“You don’t have to,” Jon repeated. “You don’t have to be Batman if you don’t want to. You can be some other hero, or even make your own name.”

“I can’t just do that!”

“Sure you can,” Jon said. “What’s stopping you?”

“My mother, I think. Also, I suppose it’s just expected of me.”

“Nah,” Jon said, finishing off the last of his ice cream. “No one’s expecting you are forcing you to do anything. If you don’t want to be Batman, you don’t have to be Batman.”

Damian eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Maybe not,” Jon shrugged. “But I’ll back you up.”

“She wants me to come back,” Damian whispered, his voice drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside, the sunset approaching.

“What?” Jon asked, scrambling to sit up. His limbs move awkwardly on the bed, moving with the exact opposite of grace, the way most teenagers were known for. But as Damian pulled himself into a seated position, curling up his legs, Jon saw nothing but control and elegance. “Who wants you to come back?”

“My mother.”

“Woah, your mother?,” Jon bounced over to sit next to Damian. “And she wants you to come back to...what? The League of Assassins.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jon poured every ounce of incredulity he could muster into his voice. “You’re a hero. You’re not an assassin anymore.”

Damian shrugged, limbs taught and face stony.

“Hold on. Damian. You’re not actually thinking of going with her, right?”

“She’s my mother,” Damian said helplessly. “And though she hasn’t always been the best one, she seemed sincere the last time she asked.”

“Let’s go back to the part where you said she hasn’t always been the best mother, because she hasn’t, at all.”

“What do you want me to say, Kent?” Damian demanded. “By blood, she is my mother. By blood, I am an al Ghul!”

“You don’t have to be.”

“It’s not about being, Jonathan. You cannot change what you are.”

“No,” Jon said thoughtfully. “You can’t change Talia being your mom. But you don’t have to be an al Ghul.”

“That’s what her being my mother means, moron.”

“Well by that logic, Dick’s not your brother,” Jon pointed out.

“What!?”

“He’s a Grayson. He was never adopted by Bruce, and he never changed his name either. By blood, he’s a Grayson, and he can’t change who he is.”

Damian was silent, and Jon felt a little surge of pride at being able to render Damian speechless. But there was a time for gloating, and this wasn’t it. “See? Just because you were born an al Ghul doesn’t mean you have to be one of them. You can be a Wayne, with your dad! Or a Grayson. Or maybe even a Pennyworth!”

“Being a Pennyworth does seem like rather intriguing idea,” Damian said, and he was agreeing with Jon, but drawing closer into himself, huddling up into a little ball. So Jon scooted a little closer and, projecting his movements, wrapped his arms around Damian. Damian didn’t relax into it, but made no move to stop Jon or shift away, so Jon kept holding on.

“Just stick with being Damian for now,” Jon said. “You can figure everything else out later.”

Damian hummed in acknowledgement and slowly, oh so slowly, leaned into Jon’s hug. Privately, Jon didn’t know what he’d do if Damian ever decided to leave and become an assassin. You’d think someone like him would have tons of friends, but Jon’s terrible attempts at secrecy and the way he tried to distance himself in order to keep his powers in check turned most people away. That and being miles ahead of everyone else in class due to Damian’s tutoring (I will not stand to have an associate who is of such low intellectual level) led to Damian being the best of his few friends. He would not handle Damian leaving very well at all.

But he knew that was the last thing Damian wanted to hear. So Jon simply hugged him for a little while, until Mom called them down to dinner.

Jon tried and failed to track Damian’s movements, eyes latching onto his best friend. Exercising to work off anger was apparently a saying Damian took to heart, because Damian had shown up at his house in the middle of the day and, after avoiding Jon’s questions, had paced around the living room, somehow angrily done a backflip and scoffed, saying how he was just as capable of acrobatics to a very confused Jon, and was now doing push-ups.

And the view was—the view was really nice if Jon was being honest with himself, but he was sick of Damian ignoring him. So, he sighed and walked over to Damian, plopping down on his back and folding his legs.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Jon said.

Damian had been startled into pausing when Jon first made his way over, but soon restarted his reps, and snarled, “I don’t need your help, Kent.”

“Well clearly you do, since you showed up at my house on a weekend seething mad.”

“I’m not seething mad.”

“You’re doing anger push-ups.”

“I am not doing anger push-ups. Those aren’t even a thing.”

“Then what exactly are you doing right now?”

Damian was silent.

Jon made an exasperated noise. He’d sworn to break through Damian’s emotional constipation a long time back, but it clearly wasn’t working. “Damian,” Jon said, stressing each syllable. “Tell me why you’re mad.”

For a minute, Jon thought Damian was going to ignore him entirely. Then, all at once, Damian burst out, “She wants Robin!”

“Who?” Jon asked, though there could only be one candidate.

It was like a dam broke. “Mar’i. She wants Robin. It’s not like she hasn’t been training for it, and I was someone who helped with her training.”

“But you’re not ready to give it up.”

“No,” Damian said quietly. “I didn’t realize how much I relied on the role. I have to be Robin.”

“You don’t. You don’t have to be Robin.”

“Yeah,” Damian sighed. “And I want to give it to her, I really do. I want to pass down Robin so Mar’i looks up to me like right now, instead of ending up with a relationship between their replacements like my brothers. And I don’t even want to imagine how Grayson will feel about it if there’s a fight.”

“You don’t need it, Damian. You’re just scared.”

“Robin was the thing that gave me purpose outside my old life. It’s what made me a hero instead of a villain.”

“Giving it up won’t turn you into a villain either,” Jon hopped off Damian’s back. Holding a hand out, Jon said, “Come on. I think an early patrol will help the both of us. You don’t have to be Robin, and I’m gonna show you that you can still be a hero without it.”

Jon wasn’t exactly sure when the title of “Official Damian Wayne Translator” switched from Dick to him. Granted, the two of them spent a lot of time together, and he knew Damian better than himself.

Then again, that was the problem, wasn’t it.

A bunch of random heroes will just show up in Jon’s dorm room and demand Jon talk some sense into Damian, or work through his problems, or do something to make him less unbearable. And usually, Jon did it.

He listened to Damian’s complaints without hesitation, talked through his struggles and worries attentively. And he never once asked for anything in return.

He knew how hopelessly gone he was. Damian was his best friend, Damian trusted him like no one else. It made Jon feel special, though it really shouldn’t. Because Damian sure didn’t think he was special.

Some small, spiteful part of himself wanted to say something the next time Damian came over with a set of problems for Jon to solve. To say sorry, he had an important assignment due and he had to finish. To say he really didn’t have the time, maybe Damian could come back later. To say he was sick and tired of Damian taking him for granted, for believing Jon would always be there to support him no matter what.

But one look at those eyes filled to the brim with trust and Jon’s resolve crumbed. There were very few people in the world Damian trusted, and Jon would do anything to make sure he never fell off that list.

So he sucked it up, stayed quiet, stayed kind, stayed helpful.

Until Damian came to him one day asking him how to ask a guy out.

“Stop,” Jon whispered, feeling something inside him crack. “Just stop.”

“I—what?”

“You have no right being so cruel.”

Damian stared at him, a hint of apprehensiveness in his face. “What are you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know, Damian. Your family is full of detectives, there’s no way you don’t know.” Oh no, Jon’s voice was starting to waver, but he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control it, couldn’t pull himself together long enough to tell Damian this one thing. “And I was okay with it, because you didn’t really like anyone. But apparently that’s not true. You just don’t like me.”

Jon looked up at Damian and saw nothing but shock in those green eyes.

“But you need to stop,” Jon continued. “Stop always assuming I’ll be there for you, stop treating me like your personal therapist or whatever, stop taking me for granted.”

“I don’t—” Damian tried to whisper, but Jon cut him off.

“Because I don’t think I can take it anymore,” Jon said, and his voice was entirely too raw for his comfort, so he took a breath to gain some semblance of control. “I’m sorry. I really can’t help you with that. But I can still be your friend.”

There was silence, a thick, heavy silence. Jon opted to stare at the floor, watching his feet fidget nervously.

Then, “You don’t have to.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to. Be just my friend, I mean,” Damian clarified.

“You...you really—what?”

“I didn’t know, Jon,” Damian said, sounding almost ashamed. “I swear I didn’t. If I had, well,” Damian trailed off, stepping closer and looking up at Jon, his face filled with pain.

He tugged Jon down into a kiss, and Jon could barely process what was happening, but Damian was kissing him, so he responded mindlessly. When Damian pulled back, though, he realized the other boy was saying something, over and over and over.

“I’m sorry,” Damian breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It was like a slap to the face. Damian never said sorry. He fixed the problem, sometimes avoided it outright, or gave a halfhearted, forced excuse. All those years with the Bats had done little to his pride. But here he was, gripping Jon’s arms and apologizing, asking for Jon’s forgiveness like he meant it.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” Damian “I would never, I swear. You’re my best friend, and I thought that meant being able to talk to you about anything.”

“You can, you always can,” Jon was quick to reassure him.

Damian shook his head. “But I never offered you the same in return. And that was awful of me and I’m sorry. I’ll,” Damian’s voice faltered. “I’ll apologize as many times as I need if it means I still have you.”

“You don’t have to,” Jon assured him. “It’s okay, you mean it, I can tell.” Then, he leaned down to kiss Damian once more, and mumbled against his lips, “You’ll always have me.”

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg @iconbicon

#scribbles from the swamp #long post #damian wayne #jon kent #robin #superboy #damijon #dc #damian wayne fic #jon kent fic #robin fic #superboy fic #damijon fic #dc fic

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ft-dads-au · 5 years ago

Text

Castles in the Snow

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

Gratsu Winter Solstice 2020 Prompt: Fun in the Snow Pairing: Gray x Natsu

AO3 | FF.Net

January 6th, 2021

“Have you figured out the answer yet?” Gray asked, trying to remain patient even though it was clear to him that Natsu wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the math problem he was supposed to be working on.

“What?” Natsu finally stopped staring out the window long enough to glance at Gray with a guilty expression that he couldn’t help but find incredibly cute.

Hana, Atlas, and Aki were glued to the window as well, oohing and aahing as the backyard accumulated more and more snow.

“What’s the matter with you guys? You’re all acting like you’ve never seen snow before.”

“Well, I mean, they sort of haven’t. It didn’t really snow that much in Edolas, a few inches at the most,” Natsu reminded him, “This is the first big snowfall they’ve ever seen, and they’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”

The longing in Natsu’s eyes made it clear that the kids weren’t the only ones who had been looking forward to it. To his credit, he did try to shift his focus back to studying, staring at the problem he was supposed to solve for about five minutes before his eyes strayed back to the window again.

“Fine, fine, you win,” Gray sighed, realizing any further attempts would be pointless and that Aki would probably love to go out with Atlas and Hana in the snow. “Let’s go play.”

He snorted when his words were immediately met with cheers and dazzling smiles.

“Are you sure?” Natsu asked, “I know I can get this if I keep at it.”

“There’s no point. Your mind’s clearly out there,” Gray shrugged. “We can take a break for one day. It won’t mess up anything. Besides, how can you expect me to say no to those faces?” He nodded towards the kids, who were staring at them with big, pleading eyes, bouncing on their feet in anticipation. “I guess you’re right,” Natsu chuckled and closed his math book as he got up. He stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up and expose part of his abdomen, and now it was Gray’s turn to be distracted.

Hana dashed to the coat closet to grab her winter gear and put it on, all the while telling them all the things she wanted to do once they got outside.

“Do you have stuff for Aki?” Natsu asked, his lips twitching at Hana’s running commentary. “I think Erza got two sets for Atlas. He’s welcome to borrow one.”

“Nah, I’ve got his stuff in the car. I’ll be right back.”

Gray put on his jacket and went outside, stopping briefly to collect some of the snow that had accumulated on the steps into his gloved hand and examining it, grinning when he saw how well it stuck together. Perfect snow for playing, fluffy and wet.

He felt his own excitement build. Winter had always been his favorite season, and some of his fondest memories were of playing in the snow with his parents and Rogue once he was a bit older. They’d had snowball fights, built snowmen, collapsed on the snow to make angels, and careened down ever higher hills on sleds for hours, returning home to hot cocoa and cookies as their mom complained that their lips were a worrying shade of blue.

Gray still treasured those memories and looked forward to doing some of those things with Aki now that he was old enough. He rushed back inside, beginning the long process of bundling his son up into his winter gear.

Thankfully Atlas was there to distract him, chattering excitedly as Natsu got him ready. It was only when both boys were dressed that Gray shifted his attention.

“Are you sure you don’t want to put anything else on?” Gray mocked, amused by the ridiculous amount of clothing Natsu was wearing. Snow pants tucked over his snow boots, a padded jacket, the checkered scarf he often wore, a balaclava under a woolen hat, and thick gloves.

“It’s cold,” Natsu shrugged, then looking him over, he urged, “Shouldn’t you get ready? The kids are getting impatient.”

“I am ready, Sunshine.”

Natsu gaped at him, or so Gray imagined since the only part of his face that he could really make out was his eyes.

“You can’t be serious. You’re going to freeze!”

“And you call me a princess? I hate to break it to you, but it’s not even that cold. I’ve got gloves and my jacket. I’m good.” He opened the door that led to the backyard and walked out with Aki and Atlas following close behind. Hana dashed past him in a purple blur.

Snow continued to fall, although the heaviest part of the storm seemed to be over, and Gray stuck his tongue out, trying to catch snowflakes as he’d done when he was little and smiling at the familiar tingle.

Gray thought he saw Natsu staring at him, but it was too brief for him to be sure. He shrugged it off, switching his attention to the boys and chuckling at their antics. Atlas had lain down on the snow and was rolling himself around, turning into a human snowball as more and more snow stuck to him while Natsu somehow managed to take pictures on his phone.

Aki was busy alternating between admiring the snow that stuck to his mittens with an awed expression and giggling at the crunching noise his boots made when he moved, causing Gray’s heart to swell. He quickly took a few pictures to show his parents and walked over to encourage him to play with the others.

He stopped short when he saw the misshapen blob that Hana and Natsu were cobbling together.

“What is that supposed to be?”

“What do you mean? It’s a snowball, obviously.” Natsu held up his creation with a lot more pride than it deserved.

“That thing has no business calling itself a snowball,” Gray scoffed, “It’s going to fall apart in the air long before it hits anything.”

“Will not.”

“Oh yeah? Go ahead, throw it at me.”

Natsu hurled the snowball, but Gray didn’t even bother moving, and just as he expected, it never hit.

"Told you," he said smugly and squatted down to grab some snow off the ground, skillfully shaping it into an almost perfect ball. "My turn," he flashed a wicked grin and threw the snowball, watching with childish glee as it soared through the air and hit Natsu square in the face.

“Hey, no fair, you’re not supposed to throw them in people’s faces,” Natsu protested, wiping the snow off his face with his glove.

“I figured you wouldn’t even feel it through all that padding,” he teased, making no effort to apologize. “That’s what a real snowball feels like.”

“How’d you get it to pack like that?”

“Here, let me show you, and then we can have ourselves a real fight,” Gray offered before Natsu could get it into his head to retaliate. “You too, Hana.”

He cupped some snow between his hands, rotating them slowly to help fuse the snow together. “You just gotta make sure to press down firmly when you rotate your hands. That packs the snow in real good and keeps it from falling apart midair.”

Hana and Natsu watched eagerly as he explained, imitating his actions. Their first efforts were pretty pitiful.

“Just keep at it. Those already look better,” he encouraged, “ You’ll know you’re doing it right when you can stack them up.”

He noticed Aki gazing at the trees with interest and picked him up, walking over towards the nearest one so his son could touch one of its branches, delighting at his laugh when the snow came down. Gray kissed Aki’s chubby cheek and whispered, “I love you, kiddo.”

“I did it!”

Hana’s exalted cry was cut short as the stack of snowballs she’d worked so hard on toppled over when Atlas attempted to grab one.

“Hey!” she started to protest, but whatever expression Atlas had on his face changed her mind, causing her to dissolve into giggles instead.

The sound of Hana’s laughter drew Aki’s attention, and he wiggled in Gray’s arms, wanting to be put down to go investigate what his friends were up to.

Gray obliged, watching as Hana and Natsu created stacks of snowballs for Atlas to topple, and when Aki joined in, he began to make some as well, amused by how easily the two boys were entertained. After a bit, Natsu changed up the game, showing them how to stack the snowballs instead.

He had to admit that his friend was pretty good with kids, which was probably not a huge surprise, considering he seemed to be a big kid himself. It made Gray wonder what parenting might have been like if he’d been married to someone like that.

He analyzed Natsu’s backyard, trying to distract himself from any thoughts of his ex. He was soon struck with an idea.

“Hey Natsu, you got any snow shovels?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

Natsu waddled over to the small shed that sat on their driveway, returning with two adult shovels and two child-sized ones. “What do you have in mind?”

“How do you feel about putting a small sledding hill in for the kids?”

“I think it’s a great idea, just surprised you came up with it, “ Natsu’s eyes crinkled, and Gray could easily visualize the accompanying grin underneath the balaclava. “I bet I can shovel more snow than you, though.”

“In your dreams, Squinty Eyes.”

They decided on an area and began shoveling snow into a large pile and packing it down while Hana kept the boys entertained.

“Getting tired yet?” Natsu huffed.

“This is nothing. I could go all day,” he smirked, noticing Natsu’s discomfort, “You seem pretty done, though.”

“In your dreams, Droopy Eyes.” Natsu unzipped his jacket to reveal a fleece liner underneath, “I’m just getting started.”

“Droopy?! And here I’ve been told they’re one of my best features,” Gray retorted, as he climbed to the top of the makeshift hill, ensuring the snow was packed in well enough. “I think we can stop now. This is probably tall enough for them. You’ll have to impress me with your stamina another time.”

Natsu’s eyes widened in disbelief before he exploded into a fit of raucous laughter.

“Is it ready?” Hana asked, rushing over to them with Atlas and Aki chasing after her.

“Yep, go get your sled from the shed, and can you bring that little inflatable one?”

“Yeah,” Hana ran off, returning with a pink saucer sled and a folded up piece of vinyl, which she handed over to her father to inflate.

“I got it. Wouldn’t want you to have to take off anything,” Gray grabbed the sled out of Natsu’s hands, finding the plastic tube and blowing into it until it had filled up.

Hana climbed the steps he’d carved into the snow with the kid shovels and sat down on her sled, squealing loudly when he gave her a firm push. She slid down the hill, her sled continuing to travel for several feet, leaving a trail in the snow. She was up as soon as her sled stopped, running back to them with a massive smile on her face.

“That was awesome!”

Gray couldn’t help but grin in response, pleased that he’d been able to make her so happy with such a simple act. He wondered how Aki would respond, and knowing his timid nature, he asked Natsu to have Atlas go first.

The sled had a little seat belt built into it, which was nice because the last thing on Atlas’ mind was holding on. He cackled all the way down and then chatted excitedly to Natsu as they returned.

Aki pulled on his leg, eager to take his turn, and Gray helped him into the sled. He let him have a moment to get used to it before nodding to Natsu to give him a push. Although his response to the experience was more muted than the two Dragneel kids, it was no less joyful, and Gray hid his face, fighting back unexpected tears at watching Aki lead a life more in line with what he’d always wanted for him.

Rather than tease him for getting overly emotional, Natsu offered him a half hug and went back to helping the kids sled down the hill until he was ready to rejoin them. It was gestures like that that made him wish that Natsu would see him as someone he could love, rather than just a good friend.

“Dada!”

Aki’s excited cries called him back, and they stayed out until the kids’ teeth began chattering from the cold.

0-0 After they’d helped the kids get out of their layers and put all the winter gear away, Natsu moved to the kitchen. He filled a large glass measuring cup with water, placed it in the microwave, and then started searching through the cabinets. “Do you want some hot cocoa?” he asked Gray once he’d found what he was looking for: a box full of packets of instant hot cocoa powder. “Sorry, what?” Gray stared at him in a mixture of horror and pure disbelief. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” “Huh?” Natsu puzzled, completely lost as to what he meant. “Whatever you think that is-” Gray pointed an accusing finger at the box, “I'm not drinking it. Move over.” He did a quick check through the fridge and the cupboards to make sure Natsu had everything he needed to make real hot cocoa and got to work. Meanwhile, Natsu piled a mountain of cookies onto a plate to go along with it, laughing when Atlas and Aki came begging one off him before he’d even finished. Natsu’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he quickly wiped the cookie crumbs off his hands before checking it. Gray watched his brows knit together as he focused on the message, but his expression soon turned into one of joy and relief. “Well, looks like I get tonight off. Jellal told me not to bother coming in. It’s been quiet all day because of the snow,” he reported happily as he put his phone away again. “You should stay for dinner. The roads are crap anyway.”

“You sure? We wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“Sure, we’ve got plenty of frozen pizzas,” Natsu opened the freezer, pointing to an alarming amount of pizza boxes.

“Is that all you eat?” Gray asked in horror.

“Hah, well,” Natsu threaded his fingers through his hair in an embarrassed gesture, “Erza’s the one who usually cooks. She gets those for us for when she’s not around. Oh! I should let her know she doesn’t have to hurry back.”

He pulled out his phone and began texting his sister as Gray mulled the invitation over. He hadn’t really been looking forward to going home yet. Lyon would still be at work, and he knew the apartment would feel empty after having spent the afternoon surrounded by Natsu’s warmth.

That decided him.

“Fine, I’ll stay, but we’re not having frozen pizza.” He rolled his sleeves up and headed to the sink to wash his hands, thinking about the limited number of things he knew how to make.

He opened their pantry and breathed a sigh of relief when he found two boxes of pasta and a few jars of sauce. “Make yourself useful, fill a big pot with water and put it on the stove,” he demanded, moving stuff around to see what ingredients he could use to add to the sauce.

“I dunno, Erza uh- doesn’t really like it when I use the stove,” Natsu murmured, avoiding Gray’s gaze.

“Why? What did you do, set the kitchen on fire?” Gray blurted, laughing at how absurd that was.

When his joke was received with silence instead of the angry denials he’d been expecting, he glanced up to find Natsu quietly pouring the hot cocoa into mugs and placing them on the table in the breakfast nook along with the cookies. He called the kids over and walked back into the kitchen, still avoiding direct eye contact.

“Oh my God, you did! Didn’t you?!”

“It was an accident!” Natsu protested, “I was making dinner when Atlas’ diaper overfilled, and I had to deal with it. By the time I was done with that, I had forgotten the stove was on.”

Gray wanted to give him a hard time about it, but he could absolutely see that happening. He was well aware of how unreliable Natsu’s attention span was at the best of times. It was the one thing they struggled with the most during their study sessions.

“Well, I’ll be the one cooking, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” Gray assured him, pointing him towards the sink once again.

“What about knives? Are you allowed near those, Pyro?” he taunted as he tossed him an onion to chop.

“It was an accident!” Natsu complained, and when that did nothing to stop the teasing, he pouted, “You’re not funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Gray smirked, quite pleased that he might have finally found a nickname to counter the dreaded Princess.

“Jerk,” Natsu muttered, grabbing a knife and attempting to chop the onion.

They worked in somewhat comfortable silence. As usual, Natsu couldn’t stay mad for long, and soon he was telling Gray funny stories about people he’d met at work, while Gray told him about some of the places he’d traveled to for shoots.

“I’ve always wanted to travel,” Natsu commented, pulling out plates from the cupboards and walking off to set the table.

“You’re not exactly dead yet, you know,” Gray called out, pouring the pasta into a colander and checking on the sauce one last time before turning off the stove.

“Yeah, but come on, when am I ever going to be able to afford it or have the time?”

Gray had no answer to that, so he changed the subject instead, “Food’s ready.”

“Hey, you wanna watch a movie after? There’s this one about dragons and vikings we’ve wanted to watch.”

“How to Train your Dragon?”

“You’ve seen it?”

“I went to the premiere,” Gray explained, but when he saw how disappointed Natsu looked by his admission, he hastily added, “But who really watches the movie at those things, it’s all photo ops and gossip. I’d love to watch it.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, either. Siegrain had felt slighted by some industry bigwig and had spent most of the movie complaining about it. But honestly, even if he’d seen it a hundred times, he’d gladly watch it again if it meant he could experience the beaming smile Natsu flashed his way.

The sun had long ago set by the time they finished eating their dinner, and it wasn’t hard to see that all three kids were going to conk out as soon as they were still for any amount of time. Natsu didn’t seem to notice, though, and Gray didn’t have the heart to dampen his enthusiasm. Not when he was practically bouncing as he went around making popcorn for everyone. Gray volunteered to load the dishwasher, claiming, much to Natsu’s chagrin, that he didn’t want to be responsible for his being banned from yet another kitchen appliance.

Natsu lit the fireplace, placing the screen securely in front while Gray settled the boys on the sofa. After a frantic search for the remote, they were finally ready. They sat down next to each other as the opening credits played. Aki climbed onto Gray’s lap, and Atlas did the same with Natsu, while Hana snuggled up next to her father.

As Gray had predicted, all three kids were out ten minutes later, and then it was just the two of them again, talking and laughing along with the movie. Gray ached to stretch his arm and pull Natsu closer to him, even as Aki snored quietly against him.

He stopped paying attention to the movie, frustrated by how his infatuation with Natsu kept growing outside of his control. Today had only made it worse, enticing him with all the things he’d always wanted in a relationship but had given up on somewhere along the way.

The sound of loud snores startled him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head to discover Natsu had also fallen asleep, his neck tilted at an awkward angle.

Gray stretched his arm, wrapping it around Natsu’s shoulders and slowly pulling him into his chest so he could rest more comfortably. Natsu muttered something in his sleep, snuggling into him with a faint smile that he found adorable.

He sat quietly, content to let everyone sleep while he watched over them, and let himself imagine that maybe, someday, this pocket of happiness could belong to the two of them.

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #gratsu #gratsuwinter2020 #fics #Gratsu Winter Solstice 2020 #prompt: fun in the snow #gray x natsu

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gildedmuse · 5 years ago

Note

do you like any of the one piece manga colorspreads? if yes, which ones?

I typed up a very long response to this, but since I'm still getting use to my new phone I managed to accidentally close the window.

Here's a outline:

I only started the series a little over a year ago because all my siblings watched it and I wanted in on that sweet bonding time. I didn't even expect to like it honestly, though they changed fairly quickly. I have plans to read the manga, but I'm still working through the series (what I post on this blog is pretty much where I am in the show more or less.

Since I've never read the manga I have no fucking clue what these things are or if they have some kind of deeper meaning. I barely know what chapter or arc they're from.

I totally have favorites. Some of them have Zoro in them so obviously.

Strawhat Story Time

Honestly, this has to be canon, right? If it isn't it needs to be. I want Robin to take out a book and read the rest of the crew to sleep everytime they are stuck on an island for the night. Of course, I have no idea what she's reading since this is Nico Robin we're talking about; it could be an overly cutesy fairy tale adventure, a dry government approved text on the history of the Grand Line, or just a book of the most gruesome deaths ever recorded (I hope she switches it up every Island or so) but I'd like to think which ever of the possible options Brook always accompanies here with an appropriate backing sound track.

Meanwhile you have Usopp and Chopper looking totally enrapt. Which makes sense. Usopp, of course, loves a good story. I know he's an amazing marksman and all, but part of me still wishes his role on the ship was the chronicler of their adventures or maybe just storyteller. And baby brother Chopper is still innocent enough to fill with wonder as the events unfold, worried the scary looking big dog and kitty cat will never get along and be friends like he so wants.

Then there is Nami, just content to listen while Robin does her thing. Honestly, she's probably just happen no one is actively trying to kill them at the moment. Plus they're camping which saves money so, yeah, she happy.

Neither Sanji nor Franky will be able to tell you what the story is about after she finishes. Sanji because apparently being read to like a child is a big turn on for him. Franky because, well, poor guy is already half asleep. His eyes are open but only just. It gives off big team mom and dad vibes. Franky probably spent his day fixing the ship, watching and playing with the three youngest brothers, keeping the older two from killing each other, and helping Nami as needed. Dude is exhausted, but he's trying to stay up and enjoy this little family moment.

Unlike Luffy and Zoro who are both dead asleep. Neither of them seem like big bedtime story guys. Luffy passes out instantly anyway and is really only interesting in stories if they can tell him something fun to do. Zoro doesn't even care about that. Stories are either are up in which case why bother or they've already happened I'm which case who cares?

Knights Of The Sunny's Dinner Table

A lot of these I like just got the weird AU settings. Like medieval king Luffy surrounded by his knights (plus whatever Nami is suppose to be.) A few observations:

- Usopp'd knight outfit makes him look sort of like Hercules'n and is perfect.

- Brook has a lute why not just make him the bard! Full metal plate armour is heavy. Brook doesn't have the muscle for that. he doesn't have muscles at all (yohohoho!)

- Chopper is fucking adorable

-. Zoro is obviously Luffy s personal knight and protector. Fight me on it. Love how his jolly roger is on his armour. I assume that means that even back then he fought three sword style.

Zoro Is ON A Cat

I just like this one okay? First, shout out to Usopp who looks completely balling. Second, did Zoro defeat a giant panther in a fightnjust so he could ride around on it? I think we all know he did.

That's like the first time I've seen him wear his bandana like that. I approve.

Rainbows And Rock N Roll

Hey, you guys remember that time the Strawhat started a band? No? Oh, right, that's because all recordings of them were destroyed for public safety reasons.

It makes so much sense to stick Luffy with symbols. Like yeah, of course he'd be in the band but how many instruments would you trust him with, really? Where as Usopp seems smart enough that he could easily learn guitar.

Zoro as the drummer also makes perfect sense. He gets to hit things real heard and he's like a steady presence on the crew. The only problem with this drawing? Why no third drumstick in his mouth. Do you coward. You should have gone three stick style.

Also I'd be all about a modern AU where these idiots start a band. And the only bar that will have them just happens to be the one a young medical student visits. He absolutely hates their music, it's loud and annoying and they don't seem to practice or even have a plan, they just get up on stage and chaos ensues. And people absolutely love them. He doesn't understand and yet.... He keeps coming back, every Friday like clockwork.

If nothing else the obnoxious boy with the symbols whose role seems to be bouncing around stage, hanging them together whenever he feels, rallying the crowd and random back up vocals has some amazing sexual chemistry with the silent drummer guy in the back, the one to rocking green hair probably because he thinks it makes him look punk. Like.... It's almost frustrating when he hears girls swooning over them because come on. That can't all just be an act, right? What if they haven't realized it yet? What if they're just that unaware. Law would be more than happy to fill them in provided they thank him with a place in ghei- oh God how much has he had to drink tonight? Fuck he hates The Strawhat Pirates. It's not even a good band name!

ETA: New phone problem. It posted before I was done. I guess I'll do the other seven in a separate post.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #ask and you shall receive #one piece manga #one piece au #nico robin #tony tony chopper #usopp #nami #storytime with nico robin #The Strawhat Pirates #zolaw #zoroxlawxluffy #zolu #the zolaw au nobody asked for #ask and reply

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pillowfluffs · 5 years ago

Text

Mafia!Wonho (2/)

Pairing: Wonho X Reader (female)

Genre: Mafia!AU, fluff, romance, strangers to ??

Summary: What could go wrong by going to buy some ramen as a late-night snack? Oh, you found a man...

Author’s Note: f i n a l l y! I’m sorry it took 259 days but it’s finally here! Also note that there are like jumpscenes where the pov will switch between characters!

Warning! Mentions of blood and guns! Torture is also involved!

Part 1 here!

wonho’s really short pfff sorry i love you, all of you uwu

“I have to leave this place, get back, and she has to go... I can’t risk her being alive and knowing I was here and if the Clan finds out, they’ll kill her naturally..” Despite knowing you for a short time, Wonho saw a side of someone that was actually good in the world. His decision spread an uneasy feeling through him, but it had to be done. This was a price he would have to pay and he was warned of the prices he would have to pay the day he joined the clan. “There’s no going back..” He tossed his head back as he planned on how.

Your mind was frantic as you roamed about the kitchen, mindlessly preparing breakfast. “Okay, make breakfast, go wash up, wait he might wanna wash up too... Get him a towel and toothbrush and wait, he needs briefs too... Go clothes shopping... Can I really trust him to be alone? Can he walk?” you let a groan out of frustration from realizing you didn’t know what to do first as you poured pre-made pancake mixture into a bowl and added water. “Oh!” You left the mixing bowl and hurried back into the living room. “Sorry, you might be bored. Here.” You turned on the tv and handed him the remote, showing him the controls and such before you returned to the kitchen.

“Thanks..” his voice trailed off behind you slowly as he saw you leave. He surfed through it, leaving the random channel you stopped on and went to the news. A wave of relief washed over him as he watched, seeing no mentions of The Clan nor him. He let himself relax a little bit... For now, at least. His eyes trailed off, finding and seeing you as you hummed to some song as you made breakfast. “Does she really not know who I am..” He eyed you as the tv played as background noise. You roamed about the kitchen, smiling as you made breakfast for the two of you, enjoying life.

After sharing a silent meal together in the living room, you did your kitchen chores and headed upstairs, changing so you could go out. The urge to just stay home was just so tempting, but you knew that you had nothing for this man when it came to necessities besides food. “Does it hurt to stand?” You sat on the arm of the chair beside his long couch where he laid. “I’m guessing you still can’t walk, huh?”

“I wouldn’t be lying here if I could, now would I?” A burning feeling stung in his chest as soon as the words left his lips seeing the slight shame go across your face. “Sorry… Uh, where are you going?” He changed the subject, hoping his words didn’t bite too hard but it had to be done if he was going to leave sooner or later. He needed no emotional ties.

“No, it’s okay,” your smile faltered a little. “I’m going to go shopping for some things, mainly clothes and other necessities for you.” You drew a small smile and kept your eyes on your fingers as they twirled with your keys in your hands. A cold wave of regret froze as his heart dropped a little from the tinge of hurt in your voice. “So, if you could note down the sizes you wore, that would be great. I’ll try to be back as soon as possible.” You handed him your phone with a blank note. He typed away, thinking of what clothes he really wore. His memory was fuzzy when it came to things like when he last went grocery shopping or clothes shopping himself. Clothes and food were often provided by Kihyun. He was still a wanted man as much as anyone else in The Clan, but they still had their connections throughout the city. “Great, thanks. Uh, do you have any preferences for dinner? I could make something or pick something up if you would like.” This was the first time you had actually asked him what he wanted since the very first night of being here. He sat there, stumped really. Again, everything else back at base was always served to everyone else. And then it hit him. “Could you go to a cafe and pick something up?”

“Yeah, of course. Where is it?”

“I’m not sure where it is in relation to here, but it’s called ‘Momo Coffee.’” A small spark of hope lit inside of Wonho as you entered the cafe onto your phone. It had been years and probably almost a decade when he walked into the cafe himself with no worries of being arrested the moment he had been seen by authorities or worries of other people’s lives at stake if they so much as caught a glance of him.

“Yeah, it’s about twenty minutes from the mall.” It was at the sound of these words that tiny fireworks went off inside his chest, but he had to suppress his emotions. “ I can stop by after getting you some stuff. What would you like?” Now that someone had asked what he wanted, his mind was blank. No one had really asked him what he wanted in so long. His wants and desires went away as the needs of the clan took over him. “Uh, chicken breast and ramen... Any ramen works..”

“Okay, that shouldn’t be a problem.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a pen and an old receipt. “Here is my number. If anything goes wrong or you need something, just call me.” You set it down on the table beside him and left, making a mental list of all the things you needed to buy and the places you needed to go.

He sat up as much as he could, watching you leave your driveway until you were out of sight. He tossed his legs over the side of the couch and stood, minding his abdomen. He stood on his feet for the first time since the ambush and switched on the tv, turning it to the local news. He watched, switching through multiple channels until a weight slowly lifted off his chest when he found there had been no news about the clan, but it made him wonder all the more what they could be doing. But he also had no idea what could be going on since the deal was a trap. For the first time in years, Wonho was stuck. The radio played lightly through the car you drove down the semi-busy road, driving deeper into town. You made your way to the first location off of your list: the grocery store. You honestly haven’t gone because of how far away it was and how much more convenient the convenience store was. Living off of ramen and small snacks were how you ate most, if not, all the time at this point. To say the least, you were doing pretty good. But now that he was in your home, you had to provide actual food and meals.

The road was clear and the clouds floated across the blue sky, letting the sun shine its rays every now and then, peeking through. The streets and parking lot were strangely clear, but then again, it was a weekday. The parking lot was fortunately semi-full. The cool air from the air con welcomed you as you entered the store, pushing your cart as you made your way to the first section of the store. “Apples? Will he like apples?... Maybe I should’ve asked…” You stood there holding the shiny, ripe fruit, deciding to take a few regardless.

He continued to let the tv play as he began to slowly walk around your house, taking everything in. There weren’t many pictures surprisingly, but there were gradually more upstairs. Pictures from your graduation, your childhood, all sorts of things. Golden rays of the sun shone through the skylight, making your house seem bigger. He felt so alienated, so out of place as if he were a robber. The rusted walls with old paint chipping off, the subtle yet potent smells of metal, the sound of a few leaky pipes - these were the things Wonho had grown accustomed to for the past years with the Clan. An old factory-made to now be their sanctum, where under that roof, they were family, they were brothers: all seven of them. He approached the room at the end of the hall, opening the door to find it to be your bedroom. The door sighed as it was slowly pushed open. Warm light embraced him as he stepped through the doorway.

He looked around, not even knowing what he was looking for, let alone know why he even entered in the first place until he spotted a very tempting thing to closely inspect on your desk: your laptop. Your desk was neat with everything in its own designated place. At first, a voice had told him not to do it, but alas, he opened your laptop, finding it unwisely unlocked. The first thing that popped up on your screen shifted something within his heart.

“Dragon Fruit? Would he like dragon fruit?” you conversed with yourself as you made your way through the produce section, always asking yourself whether or not to get something or not. “Agh, why didn’t I ask him what he liked?” You pouted as you stared at the peculiar fruit. The grocery store seemed fairly empty, but for the time of day, you weren’t surprised. You walked aimlessly through the produce section and soon the vegetables, thinking about all the possible things you could make or even try to make. But, you couldn't help but think about him. “Who exactly are you?” You wondered as you held a pomegranate, seeing the artificial shine bounce off its skin.

He scrolled through the webpage on your laptop, not exactly expecting this considering you were a medical student. However, he couldn't ignore the slight rumble in his stomach as he scrolled through the food recipe website. You had been looking for new recipes to try out, especially since you were feeding someone other than yourself. The longer he scrolled, the more curious he grew. He began to scroll beyond the pages you had open. His clan instincts kicked in as he read your emails, messages connected to your phone, went through your contacts. Nothing he could find within your history or anything that showed you were suspicious of his presence or who he was.

As the day went on, Wonho wandered around your home before he ultimately gave in to relaxation, accepting but never ignoring the fact that you weren’t exactly suspicious of who he was, which he found quite… naive of you.

You gathered your groceries into your car, planning and thinking of all the new recipes you could try with the new items you purchased and went on to your next places: the mall for new clothes for the unnamed man and then the pharmacy to refill your supply. The sun’s rays shined through the skylight of the mall, creating a nice atmosphere. Security had been amped up all around the town ever since the mafia group had become active within the nearby towns and cities.

You shopped mainly in two places, finding clothes that would suffice surprisingly easy, but then again, it was men’s fashion - everything was quite simple. You picked up a couple of t-shirts, a few hoodies, shorts, sweatpants, socks, and even a pair of sneakers. Now all you needed to do was make it to the pharmacy, the store for his dinner, and quite honestly perhaps yours, and you were dine with your day.

He laid in the comforting silence of your living room with his arm resting over his eyes. His mind was restless as he went over this whole past week, starting with the initial plan of making the deal with Diablos, the rival gang. He groaned in frustration at his own cockiness, thinking it would be ideal enough if only he went to the meeting with no backup. “Hyunwoo was right... I should’ve brought Jooheon with me…” His memory began to flash as he remembered how everything went downhill, crumbling. Everything was a setup, there was no deal, to begin with. But then, you came into his life. You, who should have never listened to a man stranded in the alley. You, who should have called the ambulance. You, who should have been more suspicious about a complete stranger. And you, who should have been wiser to let him stay, leaving him for the day. You, who was a complete mystery to him, yet there was something about you that made him want to dig deep, unravel and unlock everything he didn’t know about you.

“Why are you like this?” He pondered to himself, genuinely curious about how you were able to trust him, a mafia member, of all people. You were so close to danger, yet so far from actually realizing how dangerous the line you were unknowingly balancing on was. Lean too far to one side could mean instant death or not. You were a wonder to Wonho. In all his years of knowing people and deceiving others, in all his years of training, this was unchartered territory that he would be treading blindly into.

“Made it!” you chimed to yourself as you parked on the side of the cafe, seeing the front had more of a garden type with a little path from the parking lot and sidewalk, to the front entrance. The sun shined beautifully onto the green grass as the cafe faced the city with the skyline in the distance. Grass surrounded the stone path meant for customers and even a few customers sat outside in the natural light, protected by umbrellas attached from the center of the table.

A cute chime sounded as the door opened and the cool air embraced you as you walked through the doors. The walls were white, littered with pictures placed on shelves and the walls, as well as white neon lights, spelling words in cursive. A few tables were full, couples, groups of friends, even students studying diligently or mothers holding their kids in their laps as they chatted were spread all around. You were mesmerized at the cafe, wondering where it had been all your life.

You approached the register with the display of all the baked goods and sweets beside it, wondering if you should get some for yourself and to bring home to him. “He didn’t tell me what he wanted… Should I call?” Just as you reached into your pocket to call for your phone, an older woman from behind the counter welcomed you.

“Welcome to Momo Coffee~ I am the owner. Please enjoy your stay~” She welcomed you warmly with a kind smile.

“Ah, thank you~ It’s my first time here, so I don’t really know what to get…” You bowed politely. You looked over their menu, looking at the wide range of things they served: from lattes and coffees to ramen and soup dishes.

“Mm, my personal favorite would be the chicken ramen. It’s quite popular and it’s… my son’s favorite…” She hesitated through her words as if something about her son had stopped her from speaking.

“Thank you, could I take one chicken ramen to go, please?” As you turned to speak to the young employee, the owner brushed him away, taking your order instead. “Would you like spice?” she tapped the pad, putting your order in. This made you pause since this was for him.

“Uhm… Could I get it on the side?”

“Of course, and what size would you like? We have a small and a large.”

“Large, please.”

“Alright, anything else dear?”

“Uhm…” You looked up to the menu, reading more on the dishes they had, wondering which would satisfy you yourself. “Might as well while I’m here, right?”

“Could I get a small kalguksu (Korean knife-cut noodle soup) to go, too?” You smiled. “And a medium coffee, please.”

She nodded very kindly, tapping away. She rang your orders up and you paid, standing to the side.

“Oh, you don’t need to stand and wait, please, sit. We’ll bring your orders to you~” She smiled, gesturing to the open cafe.

“Thank you~” You bowed, taking a booth seat. The cafe was one like you had never seen before. It was so homely, the owner was so sweet. The winders were tall and wide but tinted, making it not too hot or too bright, complementing the black and white aesthetic more. You sat, scrolling through your phone as you waited. You looked at your house phone number dialed, wondering if you should press the call button. “Would it be weird to call? He’s not a child…. But he is wounded?” You stared at your screen, wondering what you should do.

“Here’s your coffee dear~” The owner set your coffee down onto the table with little plastic cream cups and packets of sugar.

“Oh, thank you,” you said as you began to mix your creams and sugars into the hot drink.

“May I ask you something?” The owner asked hesitantly.

“Yes, of course.” She took the seat across the booth from you near the edge.

“May I ask your age?” “I’m 26, turning 27 in summer,” you said, curious as to why she asked. But it seemed something in your response pulled something within her. Her eyes almost... glistened when she heard your age. “Ah, excuse me, but you looked younger than I thought… You’re the same age as my son…” Said with a smile at first, only to disappear when her son came up. Sadness painted her expression, making you sad yourself to see her like this when she was so bright when you first met her moments ago.

“May I ask what happened?” You questioned carefully, fully knowing it was none of your business.

She nodded, formulating the words in her head before she spoke. “About 6 years ago, he disappeared… and, I haven’t seen… him since…” her voice and lips began to tremble as she rolled in her lips, trying to stop tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you leaned in closer over the table, offering her napkins and tissues as the heat of regret burned you from the inside. “Please don’t cry, I’m sorry,” you apologized. She took the napkins you offered, shaking her head.

“No, don’t be… I was the one that started this conversation.” She continued to sit, looking around the cafe, then to your table. “I never thought I would lose one of my children… The police closed the case after three years of no success…” She shook her head, still staring at the table.

You listened intently, nodding along as you listened. You couldn’t imagine losing a child yourself, but you knew where she was coming from when it came to losing someone. “When I was young... “ you spoke up. “I lost my mother to illness… I’m sorry you lost him, but I know how you feel…” You reached across the table, covering her hand with yours, giving her a reassuring smile to which she returned.

“When I lost her, at the time, I felt like my life wouldn’t be able to go on. We were so close and she was my biggest inspiration… As I grew up, she continued to inspire me without being there. I decided to become a medical student to take care of others so others wouldn’t have to lose someone like I did,” you smiled, as you hoped you could see the tears welling up in her eyes disappear.

“You’re so sweet,” she said, fanning her eyes a little with her hand. “You remind me so much of him… My Hoseok.” The tears fell from her eyes as fast as she had caught them and wiped away.

“What was he like?” You cautiously asked. “You don’t have to tell me, of course. Forgive me if it feels like I’m prying in your matters,” you worded.

“Not at all,” she waved it off. The two of you sat at the booth, continuously talking as if the two of you were old friends. She was so open, different from the people you had met in your life, and it was nice. It felt good to be able to talk to someone you didn’t know and open up about your past. As much as it hurt, talking to the owner was like looking at a compass and wondering where you should go, and she pointed forward.

Talking with her became such a nice thing, you didn’t even realize the time. When you looked outside, the sun had begun to set, painting the skies and clouds with the pastel pinks and blues. Your food had come once, but as the conversation never seemed to end, Ms. Lee, as you learned, had sent the food back to be reheated for you to take home nice and hot.

She seemed happier, bubblier by the time you were saying your goodbyes, even hugging her. It felt like you were hugging your mom again. “Thank you for everything, Ms. Lee.” You shook her hand politely before she sent you off, waving you goodbye as you drove towards home, noticing right away the significantly more cars on the road as everyone made their way back home from their own busy day.

Wonho laid on the couch he had been laying on the moment you had brought him home, antsy as to where you were. He watched the news on the tv, wondering if anything Clan related had happened or if there was suddenly going to be some breaking news that would pop up. But nothing seemed to happen except for some weather updates and traffic news.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch arm, staring at the ceiling. As if he was floating in a pool of water, his mind floated. He could only imagine what the others were doing back at headquarters or wherever they were. But suddenly you appeared in his mind, specifically the window that appeared on your computer screen. “Cute,” he thought, feeling the corner of his lips naturally pull upwards. But he also felt the sting in his chest at the decision he would have to make: to kill you or not.

Muffled cries echoed throughout the upstairs room over the blaring beats and rhythm to the club right below. Dragon shaped red neon lights over the windows provided the only light source. “I swear, we don’t have him,” the man cried as another man dressed in all black with a black bandana over his face threw a punch right across his cheek, beginning to stain his skin burgundy with blood. Even in the eerily lit room, it was visible how tightly he clenched the towel tied in his mouth around his head. He pleaded for his life, wriggling around in the chair the best he could, stomping his tied together feet against the concrete ground as if someone could hear his pleas.

The heavily built man raised his arm about to throw more punches when he was stopped. “That’ll do for now, thank you.” A mysterious man in a suit spoke from behind, patting his shoulder. “Take five for now, hm?” He nodded respectfully in agreement, disappearing into the darkness.

“What should we do now? This is like the third one that’s been beaten half to death?” Changkyun’s voice was low as he spoke to Jooheon in the dark beside him. He could hear the soft pings of the rings on his finger as they tapped against the guns and knives hidden beneath his suit jacket. But then again. Jooheon loved his weapons - he was the sharpest shot within the top clan seven clan members. Changkyun, on the other hand, was a hacker, so weapons weren’t depended too heavily on his part.

Hyunwoo stared silently in thought as he processed his next move. Knowing how fully capable Wonho was, he was sure he was fine, but he was somewhere, and the last person to have seen any trace of him were members of the Third Eye clan.

Before he could speak, Minhyuk approached the man with light steps. His bright goldish-blonde hair seemed like fire in the red lighting. “Tell me… Sorry, what was your name again?” He gripped the tied man by his jaw, raising his head up to meet his cold stare.

“Sang,” he muffled, the best he could. His vision blurred through the tears welling up from the pain in his jaw and his swollen eye. His breathing heavied as Minhyuk mercilessly squeezed his jaw before discarding his head from his hand, wiping away the saliva mixed drool from the towel between his teeth. “Tell me, Sang. You were part of the deal exchange that night. The driver from what we’ve found to be exact. Why would your pitiful clan wish to throw a deal outside the window when you could have made the deal cleanly with one of our pillar members?” He asked as if this was an ordinary question, but Sang could feel the heaviness of the tension in the room as Minhyuk slowly circled around his chair. “Tell me, why would such a small, new clan, throw such a rare, beneficial deal out the window?” He suddenly stopped in his tracks right outside of Sang’s peripheral vision, looking directly at Changkyun, Jooheon, and Hyunwoo as they watched in silence.

Sang’s breath heavied as he struggled to breathe. “We didn’t kill him, please, just let me go,” he huffed out. “All I know was that they left me in the van and after a while, they came back in, telling me it went smoothly, so I drove back.” Bloody saliva drooled from his mouth as he spoke. “Please, I’m begging you, that’s really all I know. Please, just let me go…” he wept.

His heeled shoes echoed satisfyingly against the concrete as he took his steps, finally circling all the way around him. He bent forward, meeting his clear eye and swollen eye. His entire demeanor had changed as if the devil himself possessed Minhyuk. “You’re lying,” he smiled demonically, soon turning into a slight laugh. Sang’s heart dropped as he stared into the eyes he could have sworn were consumed by darkness.

“Honey?” He stood back up and took a step to Sang’s right. Laser light was illuminated from the darkness as far as Sang could see, but Jooheon held the gun pointed with the laser lined up right between his eyes. “You see, we don’t take liars very well in the Clan. I suggest you not move and just speak. My buddy Jooheon could pull the trigger no matter how close I am to you and not even put a single scratch on me.” He bent back down with his hands resting on his knees before he stood back up. “Kyun, if you could please?” The youngest one stepped forward with his darkened eyes just as demonic as Minhyuk’s.

“As small as you are, your hacker seems pretty intelligible,” he commented as if disgusted. He presented a computer playing back video surveillance of a section of town the Third Eye stole from the edge of the Clan’s turf. The video played back, blurry and filled with static, tampered evidence. But it was clear what was going on in the scene. The video was played at normal speed showing three men climbing into the van as if they were rushed as if they knew of the sin they had committed against the Clan.

“This doesn’t seem very smooth to me, now does it, Sang?” Minhyuk tilted his head.

Sang could only stare at the monitor, letting it be the only thing that didn’t make him look into Minhyuk’s eyes. “Please,” he said barely audible. “Please let me go, I’ll tell you everything, just please…” Tears fell from his eyes.

“Honey?” With just a simple call of his name, Jooheon cocked the gun, making Sang flinch.

“I will take it from here…” A calm, toneless voice called from the shadows. As he stood up, Minhyuk and Changkyun nodded respectfully before falling to the shadows. Jooheon stayed poised with his gun ready. Emerging from the corner came a broad-shouldered man wearing a fine suit with a thin chain cross hanging around his neck. Hyunwoo pulled the metal chair he had been sitting in this entire time with a swift motion and sat in it directly in front of Sang.

“If it still hasn’t been clear to you, this is not a negotiation.” He looked Sang in the eyes, seeing the tears drip down his face from what he could only imagine be fear writing within his chest from being tied up, beat, and having a gun pointed right at his head.

Before Hyunwoo could speak, Sang had finally spoken up. “The g- the guys told me to drive away, back as quick as they could…” He trembled, clearly struggling to speak. With a glance and outreach of his hand to the man who was initially beating him, the man quickly stood, politely bowing as he held out a simple knife. Hyunwoo took the knife in his hand and with a quick swing, he cut the towel, freeing his mouth to speak, but never returning the knife.

“They wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, but they just- they just yelled at me to drive. I just did what I was told and went back to our headquarters.” He stuttered over his words, relaying the scene of that night in his head.

“And where are these headquarters?” he asked, gesturing with the knife pointed toward him. Without missing a beat, Sang relayed the address with ease as if he was sighing. “See that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He patted him on the shoulder, even offering a kind smile.

Sang played along, even cracking a smile himself before Hyunwoo turned away. He took his chair back and with the snap of his fingers, Jooheon pulled the trigger, sending a bullet into Sang’s head. It dropped suddenly with the splash of blood onto the ground behind him. “Clean up the mess, please,” Hyunwoo ordered the bandana masked man, to which he nodded and left the room.

“Why’d you do it?” Minhyuk asked as men dressed in gloves and masks carried the fresh corpse out of the room while another team entered, cleaning it. “He told us a good amount of things we already knew and we could have gotten more out of him.”

“I’m well aware of that, Minhyuk, but to harm a Clan member means to harm the Clan. Even if they didn’t kill him, they still did something to Wonho.” As he watched the team of people bleach and scrub the concrete floor, he for once listened to the beat of the blaring music from below. “And now we have a kind gift to bring to the Third Eye, don’t we?” he smirked.

As the three men made their way back downstairs through the club, Hyunwoo had decided it was time for business to be cleaned up. “It’s time we get our brother back. Someone get Hyungwon, get him ready for the ride and someone else relay back Kihyun. He doesn’t need to tag along, but he should be ready for a long night in the slimmest chances we have to fall back.”

“You’re kidding, right? This is the Third Eye we’re talking about,” the youngest spoke.

“I doubt we would need to fall back too, but being too cautious has only caused one slip up so far, and this we’re deeper right now trying to undo this slip up with Wonho.” He was silenced and agreed with the leader. The men around the pillars of the Clan went right to work, blending into the clubbing members as their bandanas came off. The four men walked through the back entrance and exits made for them and went to the parking lot surrounded by members of the Clan who worked graciously under the pillars. “We’ll do a classic raid from all around and show the Third Eye that this was a bone they should have never picked from the beginning. We’re going to find Wonho.”

~~~~~ Full Name: Shin Wonho Position in The Clan: Physical Combat Expert Age: 26 (DoB: March 1, 1993) Weight: 73 kg (160 lbs) Height: 177 cm (5 ft 8 in) Blood Type: B Family: Unknown ~~~~~

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always, check out the Masterlist for more! Stay fluffy!

Draft made: April 20, 2019 (blog draft, not story draft) Final Draft: April 2, 2020 at 12:24 am Posted: April 4, 2020 at 6:30 pm

#wonho #shin hoseok #monsta x #monsta x imagines #monsta x scenarios #monsta x x reader #wonho imagines #wonho scenarios #wonho x reader #pillowfluffs #monsta x mafia #monsta x wonho

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tinycrow · 4 years ago

Text

Mama Fortuna

C-04: Moving Day, and A Human’s Best Friend

Note: I am not a scientist. I just googled some things and started writing. I’m going to take some artistic liberties here.

P.S.: Superman lied to us.

~*~

Explaining to movers what the hell your “coffee machine from hell” is, is a harrowing experience, let me tell you. It was necessary, though. There was no way I would be able to lift that thing by myself.

I think back to the making the machine, and the aftermath. Creating that machine took all the strength in me, as well as most of my kitchen appliances. It also scared the heck out of my children.

My eyes flutter open as I come to wakefulness on the ground. The first thing I see and hear are Sunshine and Ellie chittering, chirring, and beeping above me. Their bright green optics are trained on my face as they worriedly shake me. Seeing me awake, they stop making noise for a couple seconds before assaulting me with a barrage of “Mama” and “Ok?”

“Sorry for worrying you. I’m okay. I’m just really tired, so mama is going to bed early, okay?”

Sunshine jumps to my shoulder as I heave my tired body off the ground. Ellie grasps my pant leg asking to be picked up, which I do.

So, to catch you up, apparently my little stunt with the machine knocked out all power for not only my house, but the whole block. Eventually the problem was fixed by everyone resetting their breakers, but the “mysterious power outage” was raising questions.

I’m not sure if Samantha was ever a paranoid person, but I sure am. I need room to work, and this little house in the middle of a populated suburb in the city is not smart if I want to remain unnoticed. Thus, moving… and worrying. My babies are not used to foreign people in their home, or the idea of their safe space no longer being theirs.

I have a feeling we will be doing this a lot more, though. Imagine the kinds of people that would love to have their hands on me and my children. I shudder. No, I imagine we’ll be moving a lot.

Eventually the movers and I get into our moving trucks and head out.

We drive quite a way into the country side. I don’t really have the money or resources to move too far at a time, so we are moving to an old farmhouse that is a couple hours away from our first home. It’s a half hour’s drive from the nearest town, so we should be good for experimenting. Samantha, apparently, has savings built up over the years, but it would be too easy to squander. Considering I do not have a job and don’t know whether I would be getting one anytime soon, I have to take into account the cost of food and rent.

~*~

“Thank you so much. Safe trip back, yeah?”

“Will do. Have a good evening.”

“Have a good evening.”

The movers leave, and I don’t stop watching until they’re long gone out of sight. I let out a relieved sigh, and head back indoors. The ‘coffee machine’ as I have been calling it could have been brought indoors (if barely), but after sparing a thought of the potential danger it posed, it went into the garage. By now, it has been 2 and a half hours since we left, and I was already tired.

I wanted to make sure we had some place to sleep tonight, at the very least, so that meant reassembling the metal structure that was my berth.

Bed. I mean bed. I shake my head at the mistake. Wow, I must be really tired.

~*~

Later that evening, I’m tucking my children into bed. I know they’ve been having trouble with the move. All throughout setting up the bed, they wouldn’t leave my side, not even when I suggested they watch some videos on the internet! They love YouTube.

It makes me sad that the new environment just didn’t feel ‘safe’ to them. I would have to find out a way to make them feel safer. Maybe talking with them about how to deal with strangers would be a start. I could also see if I could set up some kind of security system. It would be a bit hard when we keep moving, but it would be worth the time.

Giving my little ‘spider’ a kiss, I giggle at the soft chittering they respond with. Cute.

“Rest, Sunshine. You’re safe.”

Seeking comfort, Ellie reaches up from under the covers. I turn and gently hug them and give them a kiss as well.

“I’ll protect you, Ellie. You’re safe.”

I tuck them tightly under the electric blanket.

They prefer my body warmth, but being human, I tend to move in my sleep, and hog the blankets, so it’s better for them to cuddle under the warmer blanket instead.

~*~

I wake up the next day, have some instant coffee (my kettle survived the making of the last machine, thankfully) and prepare myself for the other coffee machine I have been unconsciously avoiding. It doesn’t look very impressive, quite scary really, but considering what it is meant to do… I have to face it sooner or later.

Last night’s dream showed me bits and pieces of what the mysterious ‘coffee’ should look like. I realized I would need a vessel that would not melt in contact with the liquid, or otherwise have them drink straight from the nozzle.

Unfortunately, I have no idea what kind of vessel that would be. The dreams and visions tend to not be very specific. I saw the ‘coffee’ in all sorts of forms in my dream: gas, crystal, raw energy, or liquid. Because of the nozzle on the machine, I assume it’ll come out as a liquid. Nursing my coffee, I mentally list the resources I have available to me:

Plastic. No.

Glass. No.

Aluminum. Probably not.

Unmolded, leftover steel… Unknown.

Well, to be honest, most of the machine is made of steel or the elements that make up steel. Iron, carbon… Steel has a higher melting point than aluminum, anyway. The problem with this idea, however, was that I would need to use my power to mold it.

Feeling my anxiety rise, I chug the rest of my shitty coffee. Just because I have it, doesn’t mean I like it. I think that applies well to my main problem, too. I sigh. I would try. I like the idea better than forcing an uncontrolled amount of liquid down my babies’ throats.

~*~

While searching the property, I find a bag of coal in a shed. I bring it to the garage.

~*~

Staring at my collection of metal and coal in a pile over the concrete, I start to have doubts.

I can do this, I reassure myself, steel thyself. Ha.

I put my hands over the pile and concentrate. Thinking back to how long it took to make the machine, I’m not prepared for the quick whirlwind of materials that leave me with a couple shiny tanks of some glassy material and steel, as well as a mush of unknown material that is both hardening and oozing beside them. Ugh. That doesn’t look safe… Wait, is that shiny stuff…

I lean forward to take a closer look, gaping widely.

I was expecting something shoddy, considering how fast it formed… But this, this…

I would never expect that I could make diamond! For example, coal has carbon in it, but it also has a lot of other elements, as well as organic material. I think it’s too impure to simply add pressure and form diamond.

It used all the coal I brought to the garage, but the tanks have a thin layer of diamond reinforcing the inside of the steel tanks. Now, the tanks themselves aren’t very big… but neither are my babies. So maybe it’ll be alright.

Grabbing the newly created vessels, I spare a thought for the oozing mess beside me. Feeling a little more confident in my abilities, I focus on burying the mess. Tapping the ground with my foot, I watch as the ground ripples like water and swallows the mess whole.

… I’m sure it’ll be fine. Probably.

~*~

Feeding my children takes a bit of experimenting, but I figure out where the battery is, and how to charge it. Simply placing my hand where the ‘battery’ is and focusing is enough to charge it. I stop charging as soon as I notice the machine running; it seems there’s no on-off switch.

I take out the mask and thick gloves. Better safe than sorry.

Taking a breath, I fill up the tanks. The liquid itself isn’t… quite how I remember from the dream, but it’s close enough that I can quiet the doubt circling in my mind. Maybe it’s not as pure as the ‘coffee’ in my dream, but I pray that it’s enough. It has to be for my children.

After talking with them, I decide to give a tiny amount to Sunshine as a test. We’ll give it a day and see what effects it has.

~*~

The next day, Sunshine is a bit more chatty than usual. They run us ragged as they bounce around the room on their multiple legs. In contrast, I notice Ellie becoming more sluggish, and frown in worry. Ellie has never slumped like that after a play session… I don’t think I have any real choice anymore.

Worried about the impurity of the ‘coffee’, I feed small amounts to both Sunshine and Ellie over the next few days, until they seem to be at good health.

~*~

I can make diamond, I will realize many days later, and all the implications that it brings.

#my fanfiction #mama fortuna #greyscales #transformers

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takerfoxx · 5 years ago

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She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Season 5, Episode 13, “The Heart, Part 2,” First Impressions!

I am going to miss this show, I really am.

Well. Here we are. The final episode of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, an almost three decade later reboot of a show I’ve never seen, which in turn was a spin-off of a show I’ve never seen, and yet somehow became one of my favorite shows of all time.

Now, when this show was first announced, there was a lot of pushback. You had the usual murder’s row of so-called anti-SJW troglodytes who like to swoop in on anything that looks like it wasn’t designed with straight white guys in mind (and speaking as a straight white guy, these guys are just. So. Tiresome!), as well as fans of the original who didn’t care for the new character designs, direction, or lack of connection to Masters of the Universe. Which, okay, I get it, and to be honest the little to no He-Man business still strikes me as weird, but come on guys. It’s been almost thirty years! Times have changed, audiences have changed, and the targeted audience of kids’ shows today are very different from what they were in the eighties.

But despite all that nontroversy, She-Ra rose above and established itself as a genuinely great show in it’s own right, becoming both a critical and commercial success. Like, okay, it wasn’t Avatar the Last Airbender or Steven Universe-level big, but it definitely established a real niche for itself and gathered a sizeable fanbase. The excellent writing, incredibly on-point comedic timing, superb voice acting, casual diversity, oodles of complex and likeable characters, tight-plotting, mature handling of difficult topics, and immaculate direction made it out to be an amazing children’s show from a decade that has had no shortage of amazing children’s shows, and expectations were insane for the final season, with the climatic final episode being under incredible scrutiny.

I mean, it makes sense, right? For once, given the huge LGBTQ fanbase the show has, and given how many times the LGBTQ community have been burned at the last second, there is little wonder that they would be wary. And while some shows like the aforementioned Avatar the Last Airbender and Breaking Bad have remained of high quality throughout its run and delivered with an excellent finale (or so I’m told, still working my way through), others like Voltron Legendary Defender and Game of Thrones have become notorious for shitting the bed in their latter halves, and other shows like Steven Universe have had more mixed receptions. So how would She-Ra turn out? Would it end up flopping at the end, or would it stick the landing and enter the pantheon of shows that actually completed their entire story arcs and are fondly remembered?

Yes. Yes, it did.

The final season was spectacular. It started off all right, but from the third episode on immediately turned into pure brilliance, one that seemed to constantly top itself with wonderful character development, emotional payoffs, scenes of gripping tension, ballsy writing, and fantastic action. And any finale that makes me cry gets a thumb’s up from me.

Now, obviously I have a lot of gushing to do, but before it do, I should point out that I don’t think the finale is 100% perfect. There are things that kind of bugged me, and a few others that I felt really could have done better. Of course none of them were deal breakers, only little flaws that I feel could have stood to either have had more focus or different execution. And I might as well get the negative things out of the way.

And for me, the biggest problem is Shadow Weaver’s exit.

And to be clear, I don’t have a problem whatsoever with Shadow Weaver dying. I wanted her to die. I’m glad she died. Nor do I have a problem for her dying to save the two girls she’s spent two decades abusing. And nor do I have a problem with them mourning her death, given that they never actually forgave her, and it only made sense that they would have complicated feelings toward her. All of those are fine!

What I have a problem with is how that moment was framed and directed. It was framed like a heroic sacrifice, from the dramatic final stand moment to Shadow Weaver being suddenly acting selfless to her telling Catra how proud she was of her and finally showing her face.

Everything about that moment was exceptionally well done, yes, but the problem I have is that it doesn’t feel earned. That’s the sort of end you give a morally complex character that has been struggling with their negative qualities throughout a long character arc. And I’m sorry, but while Shadow Weaver is a pretty great and complicated character in her own right, she as never even tried to redeem herself until that moment. With Catra, we still saw how much her actions haunted and tormented her, even when she was at her worst. We saw her wrestling with her ingrained toxic behaviors and her conscience, so that when she finally makes the decision to do something right and, as far as she knew, sacrificed her life to rescue Glimmer and save Adora, it felt all kinds of earned!

But even after defecting to the Princess Rebellion, Shadow Weaver showed no signs of wanting to change. She showed no signs of regretting her mistreatment of Adora and Catra, and still continued to demean, undercut, and gaslight them whenever she was with them, and whenever she was called out on it, she would just brush it off and/or roll her eyes. Even when she was “helping” and “praising” her golden child Adora, she still continued to try to twist her head and mold her into what she wanted Adora would be. And her treatment of Catra didn’t change at all.

So I’m sorry, but that moment just didn’t work for me. Yes, I know Noelle has said that her sacrifice was still selfishly motivated, and I believe it, but it still felt off, especially with her finally telling Catra that she was proud of her, when she was AGAIN demeaning her earlier in that same episode! It carries the unintentional implication that Catra needed Shadow Weaver’s validation in order to move on. I honestly would have preferred that she never got it but realized that she didn’t need it to begin with. And that “You’re welcome,” which is incredibly condescending, was framed as a badass final line. There’s a disconnect between her character arc and its payoff that feels off. I wish something had been handled differently.

The second issue I had was just how rushed a lot of the character payoffs felt at the end. Yes, I know Noelle said that she doesn’t want to do an epilogue and would like us to decide for ourselves how things turned out, and that’s fine. But one day later wouldn’t hurt. Wrong Hordak was shown a couple times cowering next to Swift Wind in group shots and then straight up disappeared. And given their complicated history together, Scorpia and Catra deserved so much more than just a hi and a hug. Chipped Micah was given more time to harm and demean Glimmer than real Micah was given to love her. The Entrapdak thing got more focus and despite what I said about Hordak needing to either die or lose his memories, I’m not too upset that he didn’t do either, but instead simply broke free and got a happy ending, and Mermista’s line of, “So, are we like okay with this?” was great, but it feels like there should have been more. And I know they never had their own character arc and did all they needed to do last season, but if you’re going to bring Double Trouble back, then give us more than just one episode and a two-second cameo at the end.

Like, just give us some kind of montage of the rebuilding stage. Show us Wrong Hordak leading his scared and confused brothers in becoming individuals. Have him meet the real Hordak and show us how they would respond to one another! Give us a proper Catra/Scorpia reconciliation! Do more with Double Trouble or don’t bring them back at all. Hell, pair them up with Wrong Hordak partway through the season so they could bounce off each other, because that would be comedy GOLD! And while I’m glad that we at least got to see Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio (and they adopted Imp!), it sucks that that was their only scene this season, and it didn’t even have any lines. I’m not so upset about Huntara, because I know her voice actress is hard to get ahold of, so I’m okay with her just getting a wordless scene, but the others kind of bug.

I understand that time was a factor, but surely something could have been done.

All right, now I got all those out my system, let the gushing BEGIN!

Catra and Adora. Oh man. Oh man oh man oh man oh man. Now, I know I said that Catra needs to leave in order for her redemption to work, but even though she didn’t and got pretty much forgiven and accepted by everyone she hurt, I’m still very happy with how her redemption arc went down. Because she made the switch early in the season, showed genuine regret for what she did, made real attempts to apologize to those she hurt without expecting forgiveness, was shown wrestling with her bad traits, sometimes falling back into them, sometimes almost succumbing to bad habits, but was also shown finally making the right decisions and rising above them. She was the best-written character in the show with the most complex character arc, and they fucking NAILED the landing.

And that is because of her love of Adora.

Catra and Adora, two white-hot messes of weirdly compatible issues. Catra is so afraid of abandonment that she instinctively pushes those she loves away or runs away herself rather than let them leave her, and Adora only knows how to place others before herself, to be selfless to a fault, take all the blame for everything, and not let herself be the one who’s loved and protected. The two needed each other in order to overcome their issues, to put aside the damage Shadow Weaver instilled in them.

And they finally did.

Catra came back for Adora. She stayed by her side, refused to leave, and refused to let Adora give up. And Adora rose above her feelings of failure, allowed herself to be loved by another, and became whole.

And then we got it. We finally got the moment we’ve all been waiting for, all been praying for, all wanted so goddamned desperately.

We got the Big Goddamn Kiss.

The love each other. They’re lovers. They’re soulmates. After everything, how could they be anything else? It’s pure, 100% romantic love, a full, no ambiguity friends-to-rivals-to-enemies-to-allies-to-lovers storyline. Not subtext, no reading between the lines. It’s real, it’s canon, it’s between the two main leaders, and it happened right on the screen and saved the goddamned world.

Catra finally reached out to someone and showed love, and Adora finally allowed herself to be brought up and loved. And it’s that love that overcame Horde Prime’s virus and destroyed the Heart of Etheria. It’s that love that freed the magic, released She-Ra, and allowed her to vanquish Horde Prime once and for all.

And hey, two girls kissing, turning into a rainbow, and annihilating the influence of a controlling religious cult and the symbol of exploitative colonizers? Hmmm, subtle!

I love it.

Look, after everyone talking about how much the finale made them cry, and after already sobbing my eyes out when Angella sacrificed herself in season 3, I was worried that I wouldn’t feel the same, that everything had already been spoiled for me so it wouldn’t have the same emotional impact. Hell, the kiss itself had been spoiled for me! So if I knew it was coming, how could it affect me like it did others.

I was wrong. I was so wrong. When Catra screamed at Adora that she loved her and always had, the tears came gushing out. And when they finally did kiss, it made me happier than I had been for a long time. It was such a beautiful moment, and it was so wonderful to see all the magic unleashed, turning Etheria back into the paradise it was meant to be, and the Spire into a giant floating sprig of broccoli!

The Horde was finally defeat, and Horde Prime ripped out of his Wi-Fi network and destroyed once and for all. He will not rise again. His corrupted vision of purity is finally eradicated once and for all, and the galaxy is free again.

It was wonderful.

Other moments I want to highlight! Beginning with Bow!

Oh Bow. I haven’t talked as much about you as I did at the start of the show, but you really are wonderful. After similar unpowered male goofball sidekicks like Xander and Sokka being big balls of toxic masculinity and ingrained misogyny caused by insecurities that they had to overcome, we get an unpowered male goofball sidekick who is a shining example of positive masculinity, someone who knows who he is and is comfortable with it, someone who more than holds his own in battle, constantly makes himself useful, and stands proud with his superpowered friends. And even then, he still feels like real person, one that gets frustrated, feels down, and gets angry at both himself and his friends, but still continues on, because he’s a soldier and that’s what he does.

So it was wonderful that he got the Rise Up and Fight speech, because he deserved it, and oh it felt so good, seeing all those instances of people throwing off Horde Prime’s control while his words were playing. Bow really is wonderful.

And Hordak! Look, I know what I said about wanting more from his ending, but my God, that moment when he threw off Horde Prime’s control and shot Horde Prime in the back to save Entrapta and reclaim his identity was so! Fucking! Cool! I was cheering in my car when that happened! So good!

And hey, give it up for Glimmer for not listening to Chipped Micah and refusing to back down. She overcame a brilliant sorcerer wielding dark magic through the power of sheer stubbornness! Chef kiss, beautiful!

Though I really do think she got most of her stubbornness from her mom. Miss yah, Angie.

And Scorpia and Perfuma? Why, I think I like that quite a lot! Why yes, give Perfuma a big, strong girlfriend with a huge heart! Give Scorpia tiny, cute hippie girlfriend who will take no shit from anyone. Yes, I like this very much.

So...yeah. This really was wonderful. The world is saved, the Best Friend Squad is about to go on a space romp, and it feels good. And from there? Well, Noelle told us to come with that ourselves, so yeah, I’m sure Etheria was able to fully rebuild following the Horde’s destruction. I’m sure that Wrong Hordak became some kind of benevolent leader to his lost brothers and helped them come to grips with their individuality. I’m sure that Scorpia rebuilt the Scorpion Kingdom from the Fright Zone’s ruins and made it a haven to the lost Horde soldiers. I’m sure that Sea Hawk and Mermista burned down a boat together. I’m sure that Glimmer and Bow were married and became king and queen of Brightmoon and had a long and loving reign with lots of babies. I’m sure that Entrapta was given all the discarded Horde and First Ones tech to crack and find good uses for and remained as happy as a clam, especially considering the Hordak harem she’s built. I’m sure that Adora and Catra continued to build each other up, helped and supported one another to keep themselves from falling into bad habits, and Melog was always there as a faithful therapy magi-cat. I’m sure that Perfuma helped Catra along with meditative exercises and Catra never had the heart to tell her that she was just napping. I’m sure that Frosta grew up to be a strong and powerful queen who also founded her own iceball league. I’m sure that everyone started going to Netossa and Spinnerella’s game nights and just decided to put up with Netossa when she got like...that, because at that point she deserved to. I’m sure that Swift Wind finally did emancipate the horses and taught them to form their own weird society, but still made time to visit Madam Razz. I’m sure that Kyle and Rogelio became proud adopted fathers of little Imp, and one day while chilling at the local pub, Lonnie caught the eye of a big, strong purple woman.

I’m sure they were all very happy from there on.

I am going to miss this show. It was a wonderful experience, one that’s given me so much. It made me laugh,it made me cry, it made me cheer, it made me shiver, it made me bite my nails, but most of all, it made me happy.

So thank you Noelle and Molly. Thank you Chuck and Mary Elizabeth. Thank you Sunna and Aaliyah. Thank you Aimee, AJ, Karen, Marcus, Keston, Reshma, Lorraine, Christine, Adam, Genesis, Vella, Merit, Gina, and Jordan. Thank you to all the writers, animators, and directors. Thank you to everyone who worked on this show. Thank you all.

And a very special thank you to @smxmuffinpeddling for filling my dash with She-Ra content, which convinced me to check this show out in the first place!

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i-dream-of-twilight-sparkle · 4 years ago

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Chapter 8: The Pink Party Pony Preparations

Pinkie Pie bounces out of the castle and immediately gets to work getting to ponies she wants to invite. Even if the ponies weren’t really expecting it. Like poor Bon Bon and Lyra, just about to kiss in their home when suddenly…

Pinkie Pie: HIIIIII

Lyra & Bon Bon: AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH

The engaged couple fall down after being scared by Pinkie’s appearance.

Bon Bon: Pinkie! This was not the time to suddenly pop in on us!

Pinkie: Oops, sorry Bon Bon. But by the way, congratulations on getting engaged! Speaking of weddings though, I’ll be heading soon to Saddle Arabia where there will be a Royal Ball and a Wedding. I know you also have to think about planning on having a wedding soon, but in case you feel like you can go to one more wedding before you have your own in Ponyville, eventually.

The two ponder for a moment. Lyra just shrugs.

Lyra: Sure why not, we’re actually in no rush as we haven’t decided a date yet

Bon Bon: I guess we can, Pinkie. But next time you plan on popping in on us, can you knock on our door beforehand instead?

Pinkie: I’ll keep that in mind, again apologies for the sudden entrance. But, I’ll see you lovebirds later. Seeya!

Pinkie waves and closes off the portal. As the couple becomes alone once again, hopefully with no more interruptions they give each other half-lidded eyes.

Bon Bon: Now where were we?~

Pinkie realizes she probably should be using the portals just outside the door so she doesn’t get yelled at like she just did. Next she puts another portal up close to the door of Cranky Doodle Donkey and his wife Matilda. She bounces out of the portal and knocks. Matilda is there to answer the door.

Pinkie: Hiya Matilda!

Matilda: Pinkie Pie! How nice to see you again, what brings you here?

Pinkie: I have something to invite you and Cranky to! Is he home?

Matilda: Yep, he’s just reading the newspaper over here.

Matilda looks into the house and starts calling for her husband

Matilda: Doodle! Pinkie Pie’s here, mind coming over even if only for a short bit to say hi?

Cranky: Oh, sorry Matilda and Pinkie. I was just pretty engrossed with the news, and hearing about the big battle ended not too long ago, not to mention Twilight’s going to be leader of all Equestria in about a year. It feels like just yesterday she was just a librarian in our quaint little town…

Pinkie: Yeah, things have been pretty crazy isn’t it? But looks like we have some time for some relaxation and fun. How would you two like to go with me and my other friends, including Twilight. To Saddle Arabia for a Royal Ball and a wedding for two of Twilight’s friends that live there.

Matilda: Hm, going to a wedding long after our own might be nice.

Cranky: Wait, this wedding isn’t for Lyra and Bon Bon? I thought they were the next ones getting hitched.

Pinkie: Well this is entirely different area of the world, but yeah looks like they beat them to the punch.

Cranky: How are we even going to get there, I’m looking at the map and Saddle Arabia is pretty darn far.

Pinkie: Oh don’t you worry about that. Twilight gave me portal gum. When it’s time you’ll only have to go through them, and when we need to go home, get another!

Matilda: Very convenient!

Cranky: Well if the Princess is making it that easy, she must really want the ones they invite there. Guess it could be interesting. We’ll see if we can go, Pinkie. Thanks for inviting us.

Pinkie: No problem! Hope to see you there!

Pinkie bounces out of the donkey couple’s house before stopping and pondering who to try to get to next.

Pinkie: Ooooo! I can’t forget Maud’s in ponyville! I’ll try to find her!

Pinkie first tries the underground cavern that Maud chose as her home in town. But she sees no sign of her.

Pinkie: Huh, wonder where she went? Maybe she went to visit Starlight in her school office?

Pinkie uses another gum portal to peek into the Principal’s office. But no one is there either.

Pinkie: Darn it! Where could she be?!

Pinkie suddenly starts using many of the gum packs all over Ponyville, if she happens to teleport near another pony. She asks if they’ve seen Maud but usually Pinkie’s sudden appearance just spooks them away before they answer. Eventually it gets to a point where Pinkie… runs out of gum to use.

Pinkie: Oh no! I used all my gum, I sure hope Twilight isn’t going on her invitations right now…

((Story continues after the break))

Pinkie runs back to the inside of Twilight’s castle, and to her luck Twilight is still there. She decided to get some royal paperwork done before heading off to get her invitees.

Pinkie: Hey Twilight!

Twilight: Pinkie? What you doing here back so soon? Did you already get your invitees or something?.

Pinkie: I have a few already… but I kinndddddaaaaaaaaaa used up my entire gum pack looking for my sister…

Twilight: *facehoofs* Pinkie, be a little more efficient with your portal use next time. I can give you another pack, but please think a little more before deciding to try using so many on finding one pony…

Pinkie: Sorry Twilight… It’s just I know Maud is SOMEWHERE near Ponyville as she probably would of told me if she was heading out of town. But she’s not in the usual spots I usually find her.

Twilight: If it’s any help, I know where Maud is. She’s with Mud Briar seeing Treelight again at our student’s treehouse.

Pinkie: Ooooooooooooooh, thanks Twilight! I’ll head there right away!

Twilight: Seeya, Pinkie!

With Pinkie directed to the location of her sister, she portals close to the treehouse that was made after the Student Six had. And just as Twilight said, Maud was standing next to her special somepony Mud Briar in front of the spirit of the Tree of Harmony. A sparkly version of Twilight that guided the Student Six, even if in a rather creepy manner. Though not on purpose, since the spirit was of course accustomed to being a tree rather then a talking being. Twilight’s been teaching the tree more normal behavior to make her less unsettling and by now, while she still speaks generally monotone, her body language is more normal. Pinkie meanwhile, bounces toward the two ponies and the spirit.

Pinkie: Hiiiiiii Maud, Mud, and Treelight!

Maud Pie: Hi Pinkie. Did you come to see Treelight too? She’s pretty fascinating. pretty neat that she describes both being crystal…

Mud Briar: But also actually still a tree!

Maud & Mud: At the same time

Pinkie: Huh, that does sound like something that’d interest the both of you. Though come to think of it, I think only Twilight of my friends have spoken with the spirit. Maybe I should talk with it a little bit. Hi there, Treelight!

The spirit looks over to Pinkie and smiles.

Treelight: Hello bearer of the Element of Laughter, your sister and her mate have been very friendly And they’re both also pretty funny.

Pinkie: Wait, can trees like you even understand humor? And even laugh?

Treelight: Of course, laughter is your element. It’s therefore, part of me. Allow me to show.

Treelight proceeds to laugh, which at first sounds just like whenever Twilight was laughing, but then it starts getting higher pitched. And suddenly the spirit shifts into a new form, purple coat becoming pink, horns and wings disappear, the dark blue hair with highlights becomes poofy and a darker pink color, eyes turning blue, it’s now a sparkly Pinkie Pie.

Maud: Whoa, that’s cool. Looks like whenever it does something that reflects one of the elements of harmony, it switches form to the other elements. Even the voice changes.

Pinkie: That IS pretty cool! Quick, say something that’s honest.

Treekie: Ok then.. I am…

The sparkly pinkie turns orange, the poofy pink mane turns blond, and the spirit’s eyes turn green

Appletree: …ah tree!

Pinkie Pie claps her hooves

Pinkie: Now try listening to me in loyalty by following something I want you to try, jump up in the air for me!

The sparkly Applejack spirit jumps up listening to Pinkie, turning sky blue, growing wings, and mane and tail going from blonde to a full rainbow range of colors, and now a sparkly Rainbow Dash hovering in the air and flapping wings

Treebow: Like this?

Pinkie Pie: Sweet! Now say something kind about anypony here

Treebow: Maud, you are…

The sparkly Rainbow turns yellow, the rainbow mane & tail turns pink and grows exponentially longer

Fluttertree: a nice pony!

Pinkie: Neat! But now who do we make a spirit do a generous act?

Fluttertree: Allow me…

The Spirit floats back down to the ground, wings disappear. Yellow coat becomes white while the long pink mane & tail shrink back a little but into fancy purple curls and a horn grows.

Raritree: …to show you,

The sparkly Rarity makes a white transparent tentacle comes from the side of her body and grabs some apples that were growing nearby and drops them to the ground for the 3 ponies.

Pinkie: Wow! Though how do you usually go to Twilight’s form then?

Raritree: Oh I can do that, at literally any point…

The spirit’s horn & coat becomes purple, big wings grow, the fancy purple mane & tail become the more simpler mane & tail Twilight normally has.

Treelight: There’s kind of a reason I’m in the form of the bearer of Magic most often, as it’s sort of my default form as a spirit.

Maud: Very interesting

Pinkie: Indeed! Thanks for the demonstration! But now I need to speak with my sister if that’s ok.

Treelight: No problem.

Pinkie: Maud, I’m going to Saddle Arabia with my friends to attend a Royal Ball as well as a wedding pretty soon. Would you like to come with?

Maud: Sure, Pinkie. I can bring Mud Briar too, right?

Pinkie: Of course! You two can have a nice night together there. But now I’m going to head to the Rock Farm to get the rest of our sisters and our parents!

Maud: Bye Pinkie

Pinkie opens another gum portal and she’s now at the Rock Farm where she spent a good part of her childhood before finding happier pastures in Ponyville. She finds both of her sisters who still live here mining outside.

Pinkie: Hi Limestone & Marble! How’s it been?

Limestone: What do you think it’s been? Just more work mining rocks!

Pinkie: Heh heh… well. If I can get our parents out here, I actually have something that could get you girls out for a nice break!

Limestone: That could be nice… let me call them out first. Ma! Pa! Pinkie’s here, and wants to ask us something

Pinkie’s parents walk on out to greet their visiting daughter.

Cloudy Quartz: Pinkamena! What a nice little surprise to see you back here

Igneous Rock: Limestone mentioned you came here to ask us something. What is it?

Pinkie: I came here to invite you all to Saddle Arabia! There will be a Royal ball and many of my own friend’s families and friends will be there too and we can just enjoy ourselves with entertainment. Oh, Maud will also be there, so if you miss her and would like to see her again. Would be a good opportunity for you all to do so!

Cloudy Quartz: I guess every once in a while we should break the monotony of our mining. What say you Igneous, dear.

Igneous: Sure, why not.

Marble: Mmhmm *Marble nods a yes indicating she’d like to go*

Limestone: I guess if you’re all going, I might as well, better then rock mining alone if I were to say no.

Pinkie: Great! I’ll come back to pick you up through a portal when it’s time. I’ll see you all later!

Pinkie portals back to Ponyville and ponders who to go see next.

Pinkie: Hm… maybe I should bring along Prince Rutherford. Besides… I’m not sure I want to have a yak like him find out I didn’t invite him to a large party like this next time I see him. Probably good for Yakyakistan to be there for diplomatic reasons as well.

Pinkie once again does another portal this time to the cold tundra of Yakyakistan. The yaks were at first a pretty dangerous bunch that smash everything the moment things are even a hair out of place. But as things opened up for relations betweens Yaks and Ponies, including having a representative at the School of Friendship in Yona. The Yaks have generally learned more to forgive if there are tiny mistakes, though certainly still never a good idea to anger a Yak in any fashion.

Pinkie enters the largest hut in the capital village to find Rutherford drinking with his royal ensemble.

Pinkie: Hi Ruthy!

Prince Rutherford: Well if it isn’t Pink Pony! Come to visit our great land once again, eh?

Pinkie: It is a great land, your majesty. Buuuuut I actually came here to ask if you’d be interested in going to Saddle Arabia with me and my friends. A Royal Ball is taking place, probably a good idea for you to be there for diplomatic reasons between the nations too I imagine

Rutherford: Hmm… would like to go. But Saddle Arabia, very hot. Exact opposite of Yakyakistan where fur makes cold bearable.

Pinkie: Well I’m sure as long as you’re in the palace they’ll have some form of air conditioning. Just try not to go to the desert perhaps.

Rutherford: Good point, pink pony. We’ll see if conditions are fine, but if we end up profusely sweating at any point. We might have some trouble…

Pinkie: Don’t worry if at any point it starts getting too hot for you yaks we can just make a gum portal to get you back to Yakyakistan. Also, while I’m not totally sure, there’s a chance Yona could be there. You could see how she’s been doing lately.

Rutherford: In that case, suppose us Yaks can go. And Yona might show? Excellent, hope she is well.

Pinkie: I’ll come back when it’s time! See you all then!

Pinkie Pie bounces out of the hut and goes back to Ponyville through the portal she left. She thinks once more of where to go, and realizes she hasn’t even gotten an entertainer yet, unless she wants to count if Maud did stand-up but she never asked if Maud wanted to do that, and assumes it won’t happen anyhow. Pinkie said she’d try to get Cheese Sandwich to Twilight earlier, so looks like it was time to return to his laugh factory. Even though Cheese started traveling again, he still stops by the factory to check on Sans Smirk. Sans has also livened up the factory with a little more color to make it look less dreary. Even when Pinkie sees the same security guards that were at first tough on her until they realized she had an invitation has gotten much softer.

Security Guard #1: Good day there, Pinkie

Security Guard #2: You want to see Cheese Sandwich? He is with Sans in the factory.

Pinkie: Huh? You two were tougher guards last time I was here. I don’t even have a technical invitation here.

Security Guard #1: Well, since that day Cheese Sandwich has kinda authorized a sort of permanent invitation for you that Sans Smirk agreed to let you have specifically. He doesn’t give that to many ponies, but you get special permission.

Security Guard #2: And besides, we’ve loosened up ourselves as well.

Pinkie: I guess, thank you then!

Pinkie bounces toward the factory and eventually reaches the office. It’s now Sans Smirk’s since Cheese stepped down as president of the factory but Pinkie still finds Cheese there meeting up with Sans.

Pinkie: Hi Cheese & Sans!

Cheese Sandwich turns around and is immediately excited to see Pinkie’s here.

Cheese Sandwich: Pinkie! I’m so happy to see you again! Say did you ever find out your life’s purpose you mentioned in your last visit?

Pinkie: I just found my purpose to be similar to yours: To spread the joy and laughter wherever I am. I can’t travel as much as you can, as I have friends in Ponyville. But I think what I’ve been doing already already does a lot of my purpose.

Cheese: Ah I see, though uh I do have a bit of an update on my situation. While I don’t live at the factory any more. I have been thinking of finding somewhere to call my new home. And I’ve been thinking of maybe making that home in Ponyville. Where… we could see each other everyday.

Pinkie raises one eyebrow with a skeptic face, which worries Cheese a little bit of what she’s about to say

Pinkie: Could Ponyville really handle two super duper party ponies living there on at least a semi-permanent basis?

Cheese: Uh… I hope so?

Pinkie Pie just grins and laughs

Pinkie: Of course it can! It’d be great to have you around more often!

Cheese: Oh *phew*

Pinkie: Though before you get set on moving, I actually came here to invite you, as well as give a place you can have another show at!

Cheese: Oh really? What super fun event are you inviting me to?

Pinkie: Saddle Arabia’s hosting a royal ball, and there’s also a wedding between two of Twilight’s friends who live in Saddle Arabia. The Royal family is also looking for entertainers, and you were the first name that came up for me in terms of that!

Cheese: Oh sure! I’ll definitely go! Hey Sans, would you like to go Saddle Arabia with me and Pinkie later?

Sans: Sure thing, sire!

Pinkie: Great! I’ll be so excited for your show! I think you may be my last invitee, so thank you Cheese! I’ll be heading home.

Cheese: Wait! Pinkie, I have something important to tell you.

Cheese Sandwich blushes

Cheese: There’s another reason I decided that I wanted to get a home in ponyville, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time but I didn’t know yet if it was the right time. Pinkie Pie… I lo-

Pinkie: OH SNAP! I ALMOST FORGOT THE CAKE FAMILY! AHHHHHHH

Pinkie freaks out and immediately makes a portal to Sugarcube Corner

Pinkie: Sorry to cut you off short on what you were saying but I gotta get them on board. I’ll see you at the ball and you can finish there! Byyyyyeeeeeeeee!

Pinkie pie bounces out and the portal closes.

Cheese: Well dang… guess I’ll have to tell her at the Ball instead.

Cheese ponders for a moment

Cheese: Actually, that might work out for the better anyway. I might have a more… super duper party pony way of telling her in mind…

Cheese muses to himself while thinking about his plan

Pinkie is back in Ponyville and immediately rushes to Sugarcube Corner. Mr. and Mrs. Cake ae just attending to their little foals Pumpkin and Pound Cake.

Pinkie: Hi Mr. & Mrs. Cake!

Pinkie looks down on the floor towards the two foals. And of course I can’t forget the two littlest cakes in the family.

The babies giggle and cheer that their favorite babysitter is here.

Mrs. Cake: It’s good to see you, Pinkie!

Mr. Cake: Do you need anything from us Pinkie? Or just stopping by and heading to your room upstairs?

Pinkie: Actually, I came here because you’re the last ones I want to invite you all to a Royal Ball in Saddle Arabia I’m going to! My family back in the Rock Farm as well as many of my friends with their own ensemble of family and friends of their own are going so thought I’d offer!

Mrs. Cake: Oh sure, that sounds like a great time. Though uh, we have a favor to ask of you, Pinkie.

Pinkie: Oh? What’s that?

Mr. Cake: We need to go out to the markets to buy more supplies. We need both more supplies for baking, and we also need a restock on just about everything for our little twins here. From food, diaper, and maybe even a few new toys for them to play with.

Mrs. Cake: But of course, I imagine you know what that means

Pinkie: Ah, you want me to babysit while you’re shopping! I can do that, certainly!

Mrs. Cake: Should only be for about an hour or two, but thank you Pinkie.

Mr. and Mrs. Cake start heading out, they wave back at Pinkie and the Cake Twins before heading off. Leaving Pinkie to entertain the babies for a little bit.

Pinkie: Are you two ready for play time?!

The babies cheer once more and can’t wait to have more fun with Pinkie. Pinkie is just satisfied to have her invitees done and now have an hour or two of babysitting before waiting for when the go ahead for the Royal Ball is done.

NEXT UP: Chapter 9: The Sands Of Time & Love

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squeeneyart · 5 years ago

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 8

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger who constantly drags me away from the passive voice.

Martin makes a decision.

The research team makes a plan.

Communication ceased once Martin began his ascent, and with every step he felt more and more like an idiot. This was some sort of evil trap, and now that he had fallen into it the thing had no more reason to talk to him. All it had to do was wait for him to reach the top. And he would go, if only because of some natural connection to the sound of his own voice.

This is what he got for talking to himself through objects. How often had he spoken aloud to those silent walls, secure in his belief that no one could be listening? If he returned from this misguided venture intact, his words would remain safely on paper, where no one could snatch them.

Martin could still turn around, but then he wouldn’t know what it was. From then on, he would have to sit in the lighthouse, forever convincing himself that sound just ‘traveled weird here’. If he wanted to keep his job, Martin would have to face whatever it was and not let it scare him out of a good paycheck. And if the thing turned out to be a long-dead person reaching out for help, then turning around at this juncture would be a horrible trick to play.

Above all, the others had come here to figure out what’s going on. He and Jon had agreed to work together, and Martin had no intention of slacking on his end even if he wasn’t exactly an equal in this field. So, he climbed the stairs toward the unknown creature luring him upwards with his own stupid voice. Then, he paused.

“Yes,” he said, waiting for the sound to fade. Nothing followed after it. “No.” After a moment, he started walking again. He noticed immediately that his footsteps were deadened. “Oh, um, thanks. I-I figured those would be useful for whatever you’re leading me to. May I ask some questions?”

“Yes.”

Martin took a deep breath. “Am I safe going up to the top?”

He didn’t receive an answer until his voice had ceased to echo. “No. Me. Okay?” The sound ended with Sasha’s upward inflection.

“Oh. Well, um. That’s not okay? Or not very encouraging?”

“Me. Okay.” Only his own voice rang out this time.

“You… okay… You are okay? You specifically are safe?”

“Yes.”

Martin sighed in some small relief. “I guess I have no choice but to take my own word for it.” He chuckled. The close space amplified his discomfort. “I knew already that upstairs wasn’t safe anyway, so dumb question on my end. You… are you the lighthouse?”

“No. Now.”

Martin found himself at the top of the stairs. The room looked as he had left it. “Okay, I’m up here. Are you gonna, I dunno, show yourself?”

A long silence followed before he got a response. “Please? Questions?”

“What do you-Oh. Oh, you need more words. Okay, um… Are you a ghost?” Another moment of silence.

“No.”

Martin deflated. He had been rather hoping for a ghost, if only because he had some context for them. If this wasn’t a ghost… “Sorry if this is a rude one, but are you a person?”

“Yes. Me. Yourself?”

“What? Yes, I am? Obviously, I- wait, can you see me?”

“No. Me. Yourself?”

There was something Martin wasn’t getting. He let out a frustrated grumble. “Okay, look, you’ll have to keep it to simple yes-or-no answers. I know it’s difficult, but if you’re a person, then I’m trying to help.” No answer followed. He looked about the room. “You wanted me to come up here. Did you want me to look outside?”

“No. Help. Me. Help. Please?”

“I-” Whether the desperation was genuine or just leftover from his own voice, Martin’s heart was in his throat. “I don’t know how. You have to tell me.”

“Help. Me. No. Outside. Please? Questions?”

“I don’t know what else to ask!” His head began to throb with the barrage of words. “W-Why haven’t you spoken before?”

“Top? Happened. Top? Help. Me.”

Letting out a groan, Martin leaned back against the wall. “You just said I didn’t need to see outside! I don’t think I can even go up top? Unless there’s something on the panel that does it.”

“Before? Before? Before? Yes.”

“Now you’re making no sense at all. Shit, this isn’t working.” Martin eyed the stairs.

“Working. Yes.”

“No, it’s definitely not.” Martin pinched the bridge of his nose, letting the word be absorbed by whatever he was speaking to. “Maybe I’m not the person for this. Hell, maybe you’re not even here.”

“Me. Here. Help me. Please? Yourself? Working. Before?”

Pressed against the wall, he sank to the floor. The ache in his head had developed into a full migraine. “Just- just be quiet.” The word filled the room, then subsided. No sound came after. “I’m… I’m sorry. I am trying, but talking to you hurts. It feels like my brain is going to split in half.”

After a few minutes, at a lower but still head-splitting volume, he heard himself speak. “Yourself? Outside? Lighthouse? Me. Here. Okay?”

Martin groaned. The thing was trying to comfort him. He was so incompetent, his own disembodied voice was telling him to take a breather. He dropped his head onto his knees. “No, no, I’m fine. Sorry. Let’s… let’s try again. Did you want me up here for something outside of the lighthouse?”

“No.”

“Okay… Is it in another room of the lighthouse? Downstairs?”

“No. Here.”

“Is it… shit, I’m stupid, is it the panel?” Martin pushed himself off the floor, straightening himself out.

“Yes. Yes. Panel.”

In a few strides, he was standing in front of the many switches, dials, and pulleys. Everything was in order, just as he had left it the day before, except- “This was messed with. Tim, he asked me about it, did he…”

“Yes. Top. Happened. Panel.”

Top. Top happened. Out of habit, Martin twisted the misaligned dial back into place. “You there?” The reverberation on the final word didn’t stretch on as expected, and he received no answer. He turned it back to where it was.

“No. No. No. No. No. No. Please.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I wanted to see if- Sorry, I won’t do that again. Right, okay, um-” He examined the panel, willing himself to have a sudden epiphany of which button did what. Everything was as unmarked as before. “Okay, okay. Question: when Tim messed with it, why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Then? Think. Not. Working? Now. Working?”

Speaking of, Martin’s head was about to tear itself apart. “Okay, you couldn’t for whatever reason. Fine. I’m-” A buzzing came from his pocket. Tim was calling him. “Oh, shit, wait, let me take this. Sorry.” He pressed the answer button. “Hello?”

From the other end, he could hear Tim over heavy static. “Hey, it’s me. Bad news. No dice on the Lukas place, and Jon and Sasha are not happy about it. How’s it going over there?”

Martin paused for a moment, eyes glued to the panel. “Oh, y’know. Getting work done?”

“Great! We’ll be back soon to figure out your ghost problem. Also, wow, the sound quality is fucked just being outside of the place.”

“Yeah, there must be an area around that it affects.”

The sound from Tim’s end became more muffled, as if he had covered the receiver with his hand. After a bit, he said, “Oh, Jon wanted to reiterate that you should avoid contact until further notice. Don’t want you getting replaced by a doppelganger or something-”

Jon spoke from somewhere off to the side. “I never said-”

“We all know you meant it, though!” Jon mumbled something Martin couldn’t hear, then fell silent. “Anyway, see you in a bit!”

Martin’s throat ran dry. His voice came out hoarse as he responded, “Yeah, see you soon.” The other end cut off, and Martin quietly placed the phone back into his pocket. The panel loomed in front of him, making his blood run cold.

“Hello?”

He jumped, the tension in his muscles releasing like a spring. “Y-Yes, I’m still here. Don’t worry.” Keeping his voice even, Martin reached toward the dial and froze. “Hey. Do you promise you’re not going to hurt me? Or the others?”

“Yes. Please? Help.”

Swallowing hard, Martin grabbed the dial. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I don’t know who you are, but I’ll come back soon once I know more. I promise.”

“No. Please? Please? Help. Me. Help. Me. H-”

Martin turned the dial, and the room went silent.

By the time Tim, Sasha, and Jon returned, Martin was working on the front steps, doing his best to use an old clipboard as a flat surface. His hand was shaking too much to write, but it was enough to look busy.

“Tim said things didn’t go well?” he said, not lifting his head as the three approached.

Jon snorted disdainfully and sat on one of the lower steps to Martin’s left. “A person did come to the door this time, but of course the place we're trying to get into, some sort of storage building, is ‘only open to family members’.” Martin could see Jon using air quotes in his periphery. "Now I’m sure they ignored us yesterday and hoped we wouldn’t come back.”

Tim and Sasha sat on either side of Jon. Tim leaned back and settled his elbows on one of the upper steps. “I could’ve tried my usual method of entry, but the lady who answered us could’ve killed me with that look of hers. Froze my heart solid.”

“I don’t think anyone in that place would be responsive, no. Also, Martin?” She turned to face him. He kept his head down and raised his eyebrows. “Did anything happen when you went back inside? To grab your things?”

“What? Oh, nothing much. It… it did speak to me again. Said to go up.”

Sasha’s stare bore into him. “Martin… did you do what it said?”

Martin’s head shot up. “No! No, I mean, you all said not to, so I didn’t.”

“You’ve been avoiding eye contact, and when Tim called you it was full of static. Did you go upstairs?” she asked, her expression curious and composed.

Tim and Jon turned to stare at him in alarm. Martin’s eyes bounced between all three of them.

“I-I didn’t, I swear! It just-”

Jon raised an eyebrow at him, and Martin’s brain stumbled to a halt. Was there a point to lying? Why had he jumped to it so quickly?

“I… I thought it might be a person.” From there, he couldn’t stop his mouth from running off without him. “And they said they were a person, and I know what you said about me being snatched up, but I think they need help, and I think I know how to help them, but Tim’s call freaked me out so-”

“Martin!” Sasha exclaimed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. It’s okay. We’re not mad.”

Jon grimaced. “Just-”

“Please don’t,” Sasha said, putting a finger up to Jon’s face. “It was… not a smart thing to do, obviously, but it’s over now. Come on. Tell us what happened.”

Glancing behind him, Martin let his shoulders sag. “I talked to them for a while. They don’t have a lot of words, but when Tim messed with the panel, it allowed them to communicate through the echoes.”

Sasha and Jon turned their attention to Tim, and Martin looked at him apologetically. Tim gritted his teeth and said, “Martin didn’t have any answers on what the things do, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to-”

“To what, fiddle with delicate instruments that help stop ships from crashing?” Jon asked, crossing his arms.

“Look, we all knew they probably had nothing to do with a big light spinning around! And I could’ve sworn I left it in its original position,” he said, looking up at the lighthouse with uncertainty.

Martin shook his head. “It’s a dial I’m not directly instructed to touch, and it was definitely wrong from what I remember. When I turned it to the correct position the voice stopped, and after turning it back, they seemed panicked? Like it was unpleasant to be cut off.” Martin felt his chest twinge in guilt.

“They said they weren’t a ghost, but they’re not the lighthouse, either. Not now, anyway? That part was unclear. They wanted me to do something with the upstairs panel, to help them somehow. I was going to try, but then Tim called and said the doppelganger thing, so I turned everything back to normal. They… they were really upset.”

Once Martin finished, the other three shared a long, intense look he couldn’t parse, then stood. Sasha said, “Give us a minute.”

He nodded, pulling his knees close. They walked off toward the cliff’s edge. They were talking animatedly, but Martin could hear nothing of their conversation. With no energy left, returning to work was a fool’s errand. The familiarity no longer brought comfort, and his thoughts kept returning to the panel he had worked at every day for months.

Had he been hurting someone this whole time? If so, did they just want his help, or did they hate him for what he had been involved in? Had Peter put him in charge of keeping something dangerous locked up? Is that why the list had to be completed every day? If he had failed it just once, would something terrible have happened? Or-

“Okay.” Martin shook himself out of the panic spiral and looked up. Sasha stood directly in front of him with Tim and Jon following behind. No visible disappointment or anger from her or the other two. That was a plus. “We have a plan for our next step. Hopefully, it will lead to some answers about whatever that thing may be.”

“It’s more of an idea than a plan. I will say, I argued against it,” Tim said, plopping himself next to Martin with a weird grin. “Also, my estimate was a bit off.”

“What?” Martin glanced at the other two in confusion. “What are you thinking?”

Sasha smiled the calm and confident sort of smile Martin knew was meant to be reassuring, but Jon’s sheepish look away all but undermined the effort.

With the voice temporarily silenced, Martin finished the rest of his day indoors and completed his panel list, bile rising in his throat as he did so. He left the dial untouched.

Sleep did not come easily that night. Between what had happened and what was to come, all the possible consequences clattered around his skull in a restless cacophony. He wanted a plan. A plan required information, which he wouldn’t be getting that night. There was no point in brainstorming when he had no idea what he would be working with. He couldn’t sleep without a plan. So he spent his night falling in and out of sleep, the line between thoughts and dreams melding into a slurry of stress.

He spent the next work day in a mental fog, split between completing his duties and planning for the night ahead. Supplies, meeting spots, goals, contingencies, crude drawings of the target, the three researchers were a blur as they plotted. At one point he was left alone as the others scouted their target location, and he fought the urge to run upstairs. There would be time for it, but not yet.

When they returned, Martin replaced his glasses to hide the fact that he had been napping at the kitchen table.

“Taking a break?” Jon walked in to hang up his jacket.

“Yeah, just a quick one. Lots of things to keep in my head today. How was the place?”

“Good. No real security as far as we could tell. It might as well be a backyard shed.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that Martin had to scoff. “Is this really something you’ve done before?”

Jon sputtered for a bit. “It’s not something we’ve made a habit of! It isn't as if I drove into town planning on this sort of thing! But sometimes there’s an abandoned flat or closed down shop, and we need to get into them. This place will just be a bit more… active.” Clearing his throat, Jon sat at the table across from him. “Besides, this matter calls for urgent action. If you have your doubts you’re still welcome to excuse yourself, but we’ve made up our minds.”

Martin sat for a moment, picking at his nails. “No. No, I want to help. Things are wrong here. I knew that before you all started poking around, but I’d lived with it so long. I guess I just got used to it?”

“But you told us, and that’s what mattered.” Jon took a deep breath. “I understand if you’re afraid, but I can promise that ignoring it won’t do anything. I’ve definitely tried.” He laughed weakly and rubbed the back of his neck, then settled himself. “These things don’t go away when you stop looking at them.”

Silence hung in the air after the final echoes faded.

Martin spoke again, slowly. “The things you study, are they all like this? All incorporeal and mind-bendy?”

“For the most part, yes. There is a subsection of… beings that I would consider more physical, more concrete, but they don’t generally fall under our group’s purview. I doubt we’ll be running into them. That particular category is notoriously hard to track down because they know it’s more difficult to hide in plain sight, if that makes sense. Things like the-” he waved a hand vaguely upward. “Like them. They can hide by staying quiet. Others aren’t so lucky. If one can’t blend in, it’s better to avoid people altogether.”

Before he could stop himself, Martin said, “Unless they could, I dunno, make themselves look like people!” His laugh was hollow to his own ears. What would possess him to even bring that up?

Jon stared at him as if he had turned inside out. “...I suppose, though I don’t think that’s a problem here.” Shoulders tensing, he leaned toward Martin. “Unless you’ve remembered something else? Something strange in town?”

“No, nothing. Just another thing to be irrationally paranoid about, I guess.” The lie went down smooth, and Martin cursed himself for making it necessary.

This seemed to relax Jon enough for him to back off. “Good. Best to focus on tonight. If things go well, we could have a resolution to all of this in a matter of days.” He lifted his hands, seemed to forget what he had planned to do with them, and laced his fingers together instead. “And don’t worry. We have everything under control.”

Martin returned home after swinging by the general store for extra food stuff and batteries. Dinner was a quick affair, and his mother did not require time outside in the clear evening. After she was settled for the night, he went to his room.

On his bed, he laid a flashlight, some old knit hats, a new first aid kid, and a crowbar he had found in the storage room. Once he’d shoved everything into an old backpack, he stared at his phone, willing it to give him a signal that everything was called off. By 11 pm, he had elected to take a short nap. A little before 3 am, he had changed into a jacket that softened his movements and was walking out the front door.

“This is really fucking stupid,” he said, starting his trek up the cliffside. This wasn’t his first time walking on the path after sundown, late work nights had seen to that. He appreciated having a proper flashlight to lead the way, rather than relying on the weak light of his phone. He would have to remember that for the future. Into the darkness surrounding him, he said aloud, “This is bad, right? I shouldn’t be doing this.”

No reassurance or agreement came from the night. “It felt so reasonable when they explained it, and now I’m trundling up to town with a crowbar. ‘We have everything under control’. How is this having things under control? We’re going to get arrested, maybe worse. Sure, yes, I’d like to know what’s going on, but-”

But he might’ve subjected a person to something horrible, and if he didn’t do something soon, it would eat at him until he died and became a lighthouse-haunting ghost himself. If he had to do something reckless and stupid, at least he had others with more experience in doing reckless and stupid things. Breaking into old haunted houses felt less intense than their current objective, but according to his co-conspirators the logistics were about the same.

He reached the treeline, turning off his flashlight before the brush cleared. The town was pitch dark under the cloud cover save for sparse corner lights keeping the night at bay. That, and the intermittent shine of the lighthouse that scanned over his head like a searchlight.

Martin took the long way around, keeping to the edges in an attempt to avoid anyone like himself that might be out in the dead of night. Before reaching his ultimate destination, he ducked into an alleyway where three figures sat against the brick wall. One of them, Tim if he had to guess, waved and pointed across the street, back toward the trees.

Through the dark, Martin could just barely see the outline of a short structure with a flat top, nestled into the foliage. Around the property was a wire fence, just tall enough to be worrisome.

The three stood, adjusting their belongings. Martin handed them one knit hat each. Jon grunted and put his on to cover all but the very ends of his hair.

In the tiniest whisper he could manage, Martin said, “I have to repeat that I would like to not be fired.”

“That could change depending on what we find,” Jon said with a smirk. “And I assume the regular vertigo isn’t exactly a thrilling experience.”

Martin crinkled his nose. “No, no it isn’t. Not that you would know.” Martin bit his tongue, shocked at himself.

Tom snorted, and Jon squinted at Tim in confusion. Martin’s mouth quirked up. He continued, swerving away from his bad decision. “Yeah sure, I’d like to not be dealing with it, but I’d prefer to get that fixed and keep my job?”

Jon gave Tim a suspicious glare. “Of course. We’ve taken every precaution.” He adjusted his gloves and focused back on Martin. “You’re more than welcome to not be involved in the act, but you’ll have to make your decision now.” Jon looked at him, waiting.

He had wanted a way out, and Jon had one for him. All he had to do was take it, but the thought made his tongue dry. They wouldn’t need him, not really. He would bungle it up and find himself in jail, or worse. “Is there any reason I should go in the first place? Me specifically?”

Jon thought for a moment. “You have your own questions. Are you prepared to go looking for answers?” He crossed his arms and held Martin’s gaze.

The sheer expectation in Jon’s eyes hit Martin like a truck, and Martin knew his response. “You know what, fine. Yeah, I’m going.”

Letting out a breath, Jon smiled. “Good. I’d expect nothing less after the stunt you pulled today.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘good to go’ all around?” Sasha asked, slipping a pack over her shoulders and eyeing them both.

Martin nodded, the red tips of his ears quickly hidden under a hat. He mentally addressed the circumstances that had led him so rapidly to the point of breaking into his boss’ family storage house. What day was it, Wednesday? Barely five days and he’s possibly robbing a place with these people?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Tim smiled, his teeth shining. “It’ll be fine. Just follow their lead. I’ll be out here keeping watch so you idiots get out safe.” Despite everything, it was oddly reassuring.

As he snuck off with Jon and Sasha, Martin felt a ridiculous warmth in his chest. The situation remained the same, he told himself. They were climbing a fence in the dead of night, on their way to do something incredibly illegal. Being in a group referred to as ‘you idiots’ shouldn’t have made him happy in any way.

Well, fuck. It was nice to be included all the same.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #fanfic au #selkie au

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hongism · 6 years ago

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finding beauty in your darkest places chapter 5

Pairing: TBA (i have no clue at the moment, ot7 for now)

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 8310

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: to the dearest person who said in the survey that they just want hobi to be okay, I'm crying ;-; that’s the purest most wholesome thing ever. also i’m sorry in advance :/

Chapter:

4 | 5 | 6

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 5: Falling in a White Room

After almost two weeks, Jungkook can still say with utmost confidence that he despises white rooms. There lies a suffocating stillness in the monotonous walls, and he would rather be anywhere else if he had the opportunity. Alas, he has nowhere to go, especially now as the clock is drawing nearer and nearer to 11:27. His hands won't find a suitable resting position, either gripping his bed sheets or sweatpants in a tight grasp, and the ever growing pit of uneasiness in his stomach continues to nag at his thoughts. He cannot tell whether the anxiety surrounds the danger of getting caught tonight or having to face you again after the argument that passed in the afternoon.

"You are nothing but a means to an end."

That line hasn't left Jungkook's thoughts since it tumbled from your lips, but he has no intention of forcing it out of his mind either because it serves as some sort of cruel reminder. Maybe a reminder that he overstepped a very clear boundary, or that he's gotten too comfortable in only two weeks at the clinic, or even that you aren't a friend to him — not even close. Friends have the luxury of knowing things about each other. You have drawn the line between any possible sort of friendship he could have with you. So yes, Jungkook knows that he is nothing. Nothing but a means to an end to you, and nothing to everyone else in the clinic. That's life, isn't it?

"Jungkook? You there?" Jimin is the one to cut Jungkook free from the confines of his thoughts, bringing him back to the reality of the dimly lit room. Jungkook looks up and finds Taehyung's and Jimin's stares from where they sit on Taehyung's bed. "I asked if you wanted to join the next game." Jimin motions to the playing cards on the bed before him, and Jungkook shakes his head before he finishes speaking.

"Sorry, I'm not feeling it right now." Jimin shrugs, gaze lingering on Jungkook's fidgeting form for a few more seconds, and then redirects his attention to Taehyung.

"You know that Miyeon is getting better?" He asks, and whilst the question is not meant for Jungkook, he listens in anyways.

"Oh?" Taehyung lowers his cards a bit but remains more focused on the game rather than Jimin's attempts at conversation.

"Eunbi was telling me about it after dinner. She said Miyeon hasn't thrown up in over three weeks — a new record for her — and she seems to be in a much better mood nowadays."

"Now that you mention it, I kinda noticed that. Well, the mood part at least. Do you think...do the doctors think she's doing well?"

"Hm? Oh apparently so. Miyeon told me that they've given her a lot more privileges and are letting her go out more. If this keeps up, then she could be gone by the end of the month. Two months at the latest, I'd say." Gone by the end of the month… All that talk about how patients stay for such a long time, and yet now we're talking about someone leaving? Seems so strange.

"Do you really think so?" Taehyung voices the surprise Jungkook feels. "I mean, it seems kinda early? Soon? She's only been at the clinic since the beginning of the year." Nine months? That's not nearly as long as everyone claims it to be. I wonder…maybe I can get out that quickly too? Jungkook's knee begins to bounce up and down on its own accord, leaving the bed to squeak along with the movement. Both Jimin and Taehyung glance in his direction.

"Sorry," Jungkook mutters, then presses his palms against his knees to keep them from moving any more.

"It's early, yea, but she's been on top of her medications and appointments. Everything is going well for her, and she really seems to want to get past this so it makes sense that she's managed to do so well in such a short amount of time." Jimin pauses to heave a deep sigh, eyeing his cards with pursed lips before continuing with his train of thought. "Eunbi isn't ready for her to go though. She says she doesn't know what she'll do if she has a room to herself again."

"We can help keep her grounded for awhile! If it gets too bad, that is."

"Miyeon has become the one to reign her in and bring her back to reality whenever an episode hits. You can't just replace someone like that at the drop of a hat."

"At the drop of a hat? What does that mean?"

"Ah, it's just a saying, Tae. What I'm trying to say is that it's like your bear. We can't just give you a new one and expect you to be okay." Jungkook bites down hard on his tongue, and even though he knows both Jimin and Taehyung are aware of your intentions to sneak around at some point, you specifically told Jungkook not to breathe a word. I just wanna say that it'll be alright. I want to tell him that we're going to find it tonight. For reassurance only, but I can't even do that. Jimin continues speaking without hesitation, unaware of Jungkook's sudden panic and rigidness on his side of the room. "It would be great if the nurses could move someone into her room, but there isn't anyone who would be willing or able to."

"I'll miss Miyeon if she does go," Taehyung admits as he drops the cards to the bed. "She always humors me when I wanna talk about something random and laughs at my jokes too! Unlike you." He pokes his tongue out at Jimin, who scoffs back.

"They aren't funny though. She's just being nice!" Taehyung ignores Jimin's retorts, returning with a sigh much like Jimin's earlier one.

"Won't it be weird if she goes all the sudden? I've gotten used to her being a part of our group." Jimin merely hums in response. Jungkook glances down at his watch, eyes chasing after the second hand that ticks around in its methodical, rhythmic circle on its trip. His hand is unstable, a tremble taking hold of his whole arm from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers, but Jungkook focuses more on the time rather than the shaking of his hand.

"It's past eleven. Won't you get in trouble for not being in your room by now?" He inquires, question directed towards the man he stares at now, and Jimin responds by pushing his tongue through his lips and poking the corner of his mouth. He rolls his eyes as he looks up at Jungkook.

"The last thing I wanna do now is go back to my room. I seriously can't stand living with Yesung, especially after Y/N slapped him. I swear, it feels like we've been living with each other for one week and not over a year now. We butt heads most of the time already, but it's hell during a switch." Jimin drops the cards held in between his fingers and shrugs before saying, "I may as well go back before the nurses make it to my room though."

"Oh, did Yesung only get here a year ago?" Jungkook asks, interest peaked at the information Jimin presented.

"Nah, he came over two years ago but moved into my room when Hoseok arrived at the clinic. He needed a room to himself, according to the nurses, and I wasn't in a position to argue with them."

"Why weren't you roommates with Taehyung? That seems like a logical decision given that the two of you are friends."

"I'm sure they would've paired us up if they had the chance to, but I already had a roommate when Tae arrived. Not much of an opportunity there." Jimin shrugs once more, tucking the cards together until they form a neat stack, then passes the deck over to Taehyung. As soon as he has his hands on them, Taehyung begins reorganizing all the work Jimin did to make them neat. He sets them out on the mattress again, only to pick the cards up one by one in perfect order based on number and suit and color.

"How long have you been at the clinic then?" Although the question leaves his lips with great hesitance, Jimin meets his inquiry with a quick shake of his head. Jungkook almost thinks that he's telling him that he's asked the wrong question and to drop the topic, but Jimin starts speaking again and melts Jungkook's worries. He taps his chin, one short index finger against the smooth expanse of skin there. A laugh cuts through the silence surrounding them.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Oh, y-yea sorry for asking. I shouldn't have pried."

"I don't mind, don't worry. It's more that I don't particularly like broadcasting the length of my stay here. Part of me feels a bit ashamed about it because no matter how hard I try, I can't get better. As happy as I am for Miyeon for getting better and doing well in such a short amount of time, I can't help but to feel bitter because she's doing what I can't do. Despite all our similarities, I can't do the little things she has been able to achieve in only nine months. Allowing others to know how long it's taken me just to make the minimal progress that I have…ah never mind. It's too late for this! We don't need such serious talk at this hour. Goodnight Jungkook, goodnight Tae!" Jimin hops off Taehyung's bed without another word, making a beeline for the door and whisking out of it before anyone can stop him (neither Taehyung or Jungkook really make an effort to however). Once the door snaps shut, Taehyung and Jungkook find themselves in another lingering silence. After a few minutes of Jungkook watching Taehyung sort the playing cards and tuck them away in the drawer of his end table, Taehyung breaks the quiet with a drawn out sigh.

"I feel terrible for Jimin. Don't tell him I said anything to you, but…I wish there was more I could do for him. He's always putting me first and trying to do things for me but never looks out for himself. I wish he would let me help too." Taehyung thumbs the material of his linens, tugging at the sheets without direction, then flips over to turn off his desk light. "I'm gonna go to sleep. I don't feel good right now." Jungkook watches the man crawl under his sheets through the dim yellow light of his own lamp. Taehyung places his back to Jungkook, and the bed creaks as he tries to settle into a comfortable position.

Jungkook still has over twenty minutes to kill before it's time for him to meet with you, so once he's certain that Taehyung's breathing is steady enough for sleep, he tugs the journal pressed between his mattress and the bed frame out. Flipping to Jimin's designated page, he quickly begins to scribble down all the new information, including new pages for Eunbi and Miyeon.

The sound of the door sliding open startles Jungkook out of his reverie, pen scraping a bit too roughly across the page and leaving an ugly black streak through the words. He jerks his head up to see who stands in the doorway. It's Nurse Irene, who is accompanied by an unfamiliar young nurse.

"Mr. Jeon and — I'm assuming Mr. Kim is asleep already?" Nurse Irene speaks in a loud and clear tone, no care about the fact that Taehyung is trying to sleep only a couple feet away from where she stands. Jungkook nods in response, pressing his journal closer to his lap and attempting to hide it from view as best he can. "Good. Sleep well, Mr. Jeon. Remember the rules." Nurse Irene's small monologue is a routine one, something she says every time she comes by to check the room at night, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to Jungkook. Yet the fact that he actually is planning on breaking the rules tonight sends a surge of panic through his system, and he looks away from the nurse before she recognizes the sudden panic on his features. The door shuts again a moment later, and Jungkook is in the clear. At least, clear enough to return to his musings over his journal and review all the work he added to the ink-marred pages. His peace and quiet doesn't last long, and before he knows it, there is another noise at the door — a series of sharp raps this time. Jungkook glances at his watch, and a string of curses leaves his lips as he drops his journal and shoves the pen somewhere between the pages then rushes to get to the door as quietly as he can without disturbing Taehyung. He doesn't check to see who is standing on the other side, because he already knows and he is well aware that you are not going to be happy to see him.

"You are fifteen seconds late." You grip Jungkook's sleeve and spit the words out between gritted teeth. He barely has enough time to slide the door shut before you are tugging him down the hallway.

"I-I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Sorry doesn't give us more time! I specifically told you two and a half minutes was all we had. Now you've wasted thirty seconds and kept me waiting."

"Ah, you're being too loud!" Jungkook tries to keep his voice down. "Taehyung is trying to sleep." You pause at the revelation, and Jungkook sees worry flash across your eyes through the darkness. You shake away the emotion and turn away, hand dropping from his sleeve. Jungkook chases after you, struggling to make out your form against the darkness. "Do — do you have a flashlight? I can barely see."

"It's not that dark, you'll be fine." You retort and follow it up with a scoff that seems to echo through the hall. "Are you scared of the dark, Jungkookie?"

"What? No! I can't see well and have no clue where we're going. It's not like I know my way around here in the dark."

"Shh, people are trying to sleep. Just follow the sound of my voice if you think you'll get lost." Jungkook trails after you, and his eyes slowly become more adjusted to the darkness. Ah, I forgot to turn my lamp off. I hope that doesn't keep Taehyung up. He watches your back, being sure to not let too much distance grow between the two of you, and as silence takes over, his mind revisits the argument you had earlier in the day. And, of course, that little nagging comment which refuses to leave Jungkook's mind.

"You are nothing but a means to an end."

Nothing. He doesn't bring the topic up again — partially because he's concerned you might repeat what you said with more vehemence, but also because he can't even tell whether you remember it or not. Did she really mean what she said? Was it just a defense mechanism to protect herself? Jungkook gnaws on the inside of his lower lip, pinching the skin there until it breaks under the pressure of his teeth. When the metallic taste of blood touches his tongue, he stops and lets it coat the inside of his mouth as though it will prevent him from saying anything he might regret. Does she even feel sorry for saying those things?

Jungkook doesn't have the opportunity to continue down that train of thought because you've stopped and are bending over a door handle. He listens closely to the series of clicks and noises that come next, a few curses muttered from your lips slipping in on occasion, then the door swings open with a bit too much force and hits the wall with a bang. You huff and straighten your back, a cocky smirk spread across your lips that Jungkook can only see because your teeth are reflecting what little light there is. You step into the laundry room first, hitting the light switch as you go and filling the room with light that hurts to look at.

"That would've been a lot easier if we had thirty extra seconds of time." The backhanded comment stings as much as the open wound in Jungkook's mouth. He frowns and avoids looking at you. "Lighten up, Jungkookie. We have a job to do."

"Won't the cameras catch the light coming from here?" Jungkook redirects the conversation in hopes of changing the topic, and you take the bait.

"No, the cameras don't cover the laundry room or outside the door. They're mainly for checking the hallway with all the bedrooms and other areas where patients would be. The laundry room isn't exactly a place where we should be, so they didn't bother to put cameras over here." Why did she worry about us getting here so quickly then? Jungkook pushes that thought aside in favor of joining you by the dryers. "Um, go through all the dryers. I'll start looking through the clothes bins and cabinets." Jungkook does as asked, opening the dryers one at a time to search for Taehyung's bear.

"What does the bear look like?"

"It's just a typical stuffed bear, looks like any other one you'd see in a store."

"Why can't you just get a replacement or give Taehyung one of the other stuffed animals you have in your room?" Jungkook pulls his head out of one of the dryers to look at you over his shoulder.

"I can't just 'get him a new one', Jungkook. I gave Taehyung this specific bear for a reason, and giving him a new one won't fix anything."

"I'm confused still."

"And I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"I mean, Jimin said something similar earlier but it didn't make sense then either."

"I can't make you understand."

"Yeah, forget it." Jungkook huffs and moves onto the next dryer. You and Jungkook continue your respective searches in silence, neither bothering to attempt conversation again. Jungkook double checks the dryers again after his initial run-through but still comes up short on finding the bear. He looks back in your direction, watching as you dig through the same bin of clothes he saw you start with. "Any luck?" He asks and shuts the dryers.

"No. I can't find it. Did you see it in the dryers?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I double checked and everything."

"Let's switch. You go through the bins and cabinets, I'll check the dryers."

"Y/N, we already looked through them." Jungkook presses his palms against his knees and pushes himself up to stand straight.

"Maybe we missed something." You spin on your heel and go for the dryers, but Jungkook grabs hold of your arm.

"It's not here. We should go check the kitchen because looking over and over again won't help," he urges, motioning towards the door.

"We must have missed something."

"No, Y/N. It's not here. Please, can we go to the kitchen now?" Jungkook moves for the door, stepping a bit into the hall and pulling you along with him. You keep looking back to the laundry room even as Jungkook turns the lights off, as though the bear will somehow miraculously materialize while you stare but it doesn't.

"Whatever," you mutter once Jungkook shuts the door. "Let's just go." You run a hand through your loose hair, avoiding Jungkook's gaze. He follows your lead and walks a few feet behind you as you make your way to the kitchen. It is equally dark there, but you don't go for the light switch this time. "The cameras will catch it if we turn the main lights on. I'll get the pantry light instead." Jungkook nods at your explanation and looks at the fridge. It's still in the slightly shifted position he moved it to earlier in the day, albeit there is a slight dent in the side now from where he punched it. Jungkook runs a thumb over his bruised knuckles.

Faint yellow light streams across the floor of the kitchen, providing a minimal amount of visibility but enough for Jungkook to see the cabinets and you more clearly.

"I'll look through the cabinets and drawers over here. Go ahead and get started on those." You don't wait to see whether Jungkook does as asked and busy yourself with the searching instead. He mimics your actions. Part of him wants to make some conversation, if only to ease the anxiety that bubbles in his gut anytime he's left in silence with you.

All this effort for a bear…does it really help? It's been gone since I arrived, and Taehyung seems to be doing alright without it now. He wasn't fine the first day but for the past few days…I don't understand how much impact a stuffed animal can have.

No luck. Thirty minutes later, Jungkook has searched through his side of the kitchen at least three times, and he knows that you have as well but you show no signs of slowing down. He, on the other hand, it ready to call it quits and stop looking for the bear, which is obviously not here either. He collapses on the floor with a sign, plopping on the tile a bit too roughly, and his rear end stings from the impact. You glance back at him midway through a cabinet but don't comment on his decision to stop looking with you.

"Where else could it be?" He inquires once you return to digging through the cabinet.

"It could be in either Mingyu or Yesung's room."

"Jimin mentioned that he shares a room with Yesung."

"I'm aware of that."

"Why don't…why don't you just ask him to look through the room? That would be easiest, wouldn't it?" Jungkook is hesitant about the suggestion for some reason, as though he knows what your response is going to be before you say it, and you don't let him down when you speak next.

"I don't trust him to do a good enough job looking for it."

"Why? Do you think he's dumb or something?" The question holds a hint of hostility in it, and Jungkook didn't intend for that to slip in but he can't take it back now.

"No, I don't think that." Your tone is a bit too quiet, and you have your head in a cabinet so Jungkook has to lean forward to catch your words. "I simply don't trust him to look for it. I am the only person I can trust to do a good enough job looking, and that's why I've been double checking everything myself."

"Why don't you get someone you trust to help?"

"Oh? Like who?"

"Namjoon, Yoongi, Seokjin, I don't know," Jungkook mutters, dipping his head as he speaks. He doesn't want to bring up Yoongi again in case you retaliate with harsh words once more. You don't show any signs of anger though. Sighing, you shut the cabinet you're working on and move onto the next.

"That's…a different kind of trust, but I'm going to say anything more on that."

You continue searching in silence, not offering any more words for Jungkook, and he doesn't press for answers, unwilling to risk angering you. Different kind of trust? What does that mean? She doesn't trust them to help her look for a stuffed bear? That doesn't make sense…there must be something else. I don't believe that excuse. Then again, she told me not to mention anything about the plans to Yoongi or Namjoon. But why? What would they do if they knew? Wouldn't they help?

"Fuck!" Your sudden cuss stops Jungkook in his tracks, and he jolts at the sound of a cabinet slamming shut. You turn away from the cabinets, hands finding purchase on the counter and gripping the granite. "I can't find it anywhere. It's not here. It wasn't in the laundry room. God, we're so screwed. This means that Mingyu or Yesung has it in one of their rooms."

"So…what're we gonna do?"

"I don't know." For once, you seem to be at a loss.

"Are we gonna sneak into their room while they're gone?"

"No, I—we can't do that. Getting caught by Mingyu is too big of a risk. I would rather start a fist fight with him in the meal room than sneak into his room."

"I'll do it then."

"Huh?"

"I'll sneak into his room." Jungkook lifts himself off the floor and leans against the counter so that he's opposite you now, staring you in the eye with a newfound resolve. "I'm not scared of him."

"You think I'm scared of him? Mingyu isn't the problem."

"Then what is?"

"Come on, you've got a brain and can put two and two together." You shift, hip colliding with the edge of the counter, but you barely bat an eye at the contact. "Why do you think Mingyu didn't get in as much trouble as I did when we fought? Or why the nurses didn't interfere for so long until Yesung got involved."

"I thought it was just because they don't care. That's what Namjoon told me, at least."

"And you didn't think that maybe Namjoon was holding something back? He is just as scared as everyone else in the clinic. No one fucks with Mingyu for a reason. I just don't give a big enough shit to let him treat Taehyung the way he does. He can walk all over me any day of the week, but he can't mess with someone who can't or won't defend themselves." You stop your rant, glancing at the wall clock beside the fridge. Jungkook follows your line of sight to read the time as well, disappointed at the sight of it. "We still have plenty of time before the camera glitches again." Yeah, two whole hours of this mess. You move away from the counter, making another round of the cabinets, and Jungkook watches on with little amusement.

"Why didn't Mingyu in trouble, if it's not due to the nurses not caring?"

"I'm not going to spell it out for you, Jeon. Think about his name."

"It's Mingyu? I don't get what game you're trying to play. Why can't you explain it already?" You turn to face Jungkook just so that he can see the over-exaggerated roll of your eyes before responding.

"I thought you were smarter than this, but obviously not." Jungkook opens his mouth to counter your comment, but you lift a finger to keep him from speaking. "His name is Choi Mingyu. Do you remember who runs the clinic?"

"Dr. Choi, but isn't Choi a common name?"

"You've met with the good doctor. Tell me the family resemblance isn't there."

"I-I, well now that you—yes it's there."

"That's part of the reason why Mingyu is so arrogant and full of himself. His father is in charge of the clinic."

"Why is he here of all places though? There's tons of other clinics out there that he could be at. Why would his family want him here?"

"Why wouldn't they? It makes it easy. They can keep their kid in the same place that Dad is in charge of. On top of that, his own father gets to control the care as well. They don't care if it's counterproductive, but it is. It worsens half of Mingyu's problems and makes his ego even bigger, which affects us more than anyone else."

"Ah, I think — I think I get it now. If we get caught in Mingyu's room, he would tell his dad and make things living hell for us."

"Not necessarily, but it would probably extend our stays by at least another year, and we would lose our privileges on top of that."

"It's not like I have any privileges to revoke right now though."

"Do you really want to stay longer?"

"No, of course not."

"That's what I thought." You hum and laugh to yourself.

"Why do you and Mingyu have such a bad relationship anyways? Has it always been like this? How long has he been here?"

"Honestly? I don't even remember anymore, but it's been awhile. We've never gotten along. Ever since he got here, he's been thrusting his dumbass attitude in everyone's faces, but I didn't pay much attention to him at first because I didn't really care when I first arrived. His ego is too big for him to deal with anyone who disagrees with him, and our views don't line up that well. We don't think the same way, and sure you can agree to disagree with some people, but Mingyu doesn't operate like that. His ego made sense back when he was a teenager. I wrote him off as a typical teenage asshole then, although now I know that he's insufferable no matter what age he is." Jungkook nods along with your words, taking in all the information to remember for later when he has access to his journal again.

"I understand a bit better now," he says more to himself than to you. "How does Yesung fall into the picture though?"

"He is a lot like me, in that he's in it for himself. So, Yesung is searching for the easiest way to live in the clinic and thinks that by siding with Mingyu, he has that easy way out. To be honest, Yesung isn't a bad person, at least he hasn't always been, but he has become one by spending all his time with Mingyu. I'm sure things would be a lot different if Yesung cared about someone other than himself."

"I see." Jungkook pulls at a loose string on one of his socks, tugging it until the string becomes a loop, and puffs his cheeks full of air. "Thank you for explaining all that for me. And answering my questions. I know you don't really like being asked so many questions."

"Well, you aren't asking anything personal about me. You've only been asking about other people, and they happen to be people I don't care for, so I don't care about keeping my mouth shut for them. Besides, Mingyu would love the attention." You've reached the end of the line of cabinets by now and are about to make another lap around the kitchen to check again, but Jungkook calls out to stop you.

"Y/N, you don't have to keep searching the cabinets. The bear is obviously not there."

"No, no, no. It has to be here somewhere." You run your fingers through your hair and tug hard on the strands. Ignoring Jungkook's words, you move towards the cabinets again and open each one. "I'm not going to find it in time. Taehyung has been waiting long enough already, but he needs it. I need to get it for him. If I can't find it tonight, then I'm failing him. He needs me to find it." Jungkook moves around the counter and reaches out in an effort to stop you, but you move away from his outstretched arm too quickly for him to catch. "I know it's here somewhere. Mingyu and Yesung are dumb, they can't have many places to put it. It has to be here somewhere."

"Y/N," Jungkook sighs. He intercepts you in the midst of your war path to the next set of cabinets, pressing his fingers around your wrist. He nearly lets go immediately after out of sheer shock, because as his fingers dip under the fabric of your sleeve, he feels the ridges of scars across your skin. Rows of them, one after another against his fingers, and he subconsciously drags his thumb over them. I've never noticed—they don't feel fresh but…I never saw them before, did I? I don't remember, but it's not something I ever paid attention to. "Why are you panicking so much? It'll be okay. Taehyung has done well without the bear thus far, and he seems to be willing to wait until we can find it. If it takes a bit more time, then so be it." You look up at Jungkook, yellow light from the pantry hitting the side of your face and casting crude shadows over your features. Your brows knit together. Instead of pulling away and putting up your defensive walls, you drop your shoulders and bite your lower lip.

"I can't let him down, Jungkook. I can't. I have to do this for him, I need to help him now, and I can't waste any time."

"It'll be okay, Y/N. You just need to give it a bit more time. We will find it, I promise. You have been helping Taehyung enough as it is."

"It's not enough though."

"What's not enough?" He asks, trying to maintain eye contact as you start lowering your chin.

"Me." A searing ache spreads across Jungkook's chest. Under his grip, you're trembling, and he tightens his hold as though it will do something to make you feel better. "I'm not enough. I can't fix Taehyung by just being me. Hell, I don't know if I can fix it at all."

"It's okay to not be enough," Jungkook mutters. The low rumble of the fridge almost blocks out his words, but you hear him nonetheless, eyes flitting up to meet his. He isn't sure whether his words have any impact, but he also has no clue how to help you in this situation. How to comfort, help, console, anything. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing.

"You're a liar. Not being enough has never helped anyone." You frown, and Jungkook mirrors your expression with a frown of his own.

"No one is ever enough, Y/N. We can't be perfect for everyone, and you don't need to be." Your frown deepens, and you blink up at Jungkook. You don't react further than that for a few moments. Jungkook can almost see the gears turning in your mind as you take in his words. Then you pull away, and Jungkook has to release your wrist. You hug your arms to your chest, slouching forward as you do, and all he sees is how small and vulnerable you seem.

"I'm trying to keep you at a distance. Why don't you get that? I don't want you to get close to me."

"Why? I'm trying to help. I don't underst—”

"Stay out of my personal life." You shift, turning your back to him.

"But why, Y/N? I don't understand why you're trying so hard to push me away."

"I have hurt enough people by letting them get close and involved in my personal life. I'm not a good person, I only care about myself, so why would you want to get involved with that? I'm selfish and rude and insensitive."

"You aren't going to hurt me," Jungkook insists, and he takes a step closer to you.

"Again, you're a liar. That's exactly what Yoongi said, and he turned out to be a liar." Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he stares at the back of your head. She brought him up. Oh god, what do I say?

"What?"

That's all Jungkook can manage in the heat of the moment, although it might be because his throat is closing up from the panic coursing through his veins. All he can think about is your reaction earlier when you talked about Yoongi, and he would rather not hear you repeat the cruel words.

"You are a liar. Just like Yoongi was. You are going to turn out to be an exact replica of him, and I don't want that in my life again. It would be better to keep you at a distance than to hurt you the way I hurt Yoongi." You can't see the stutter in Jungkook's jaw, the way he moves his lips with no voice because he's at a loss. Being silent surely isn't the proper answer, so Jungkook struggles to manage a response.

"I-I, uh, didn't realize that's what happened. I thought — it doesn't seem like that's the case."

"We're fine now."

"Why? Because you pushed him away?" Jungkook presses his lips together in a moment of doubt and hesitation, then with a deep inhale of breath, he continues on with his train of thought. The pent up frustration in his gut pushes its way to the foreground, ready to spill out and bare itself to reality. "Is that what you're gonna do to Taehyung when he gets too close? Or Namjoon if he starts pushing boundaries? Are you doing that to Jimin now? You obviously push him away for some reason, but maybe it's simply because you can't stand the thought of being vulnerable in front of someone. What about Hoseok? You'll do that to him too? You claim it's so that you don't hurt them, but can't you see that's exactly what you're doing by be—”

A sharp pain spreads across his right cheek, and for a moment, Jungkook has no clue what happened. He doesn't get the change to finish his train of thought thanks to the shock that wipes his mind of what he was going to say. Without looking your way, he lifts shaking fingers to his cheek, which is suddenly cold compared to the rest of his body, and when he pulls it away, crimson paints his fingertips. Blood? Am I bleeding? He wipes at his cheek once more with his thumb, finding a smear of blood on his skin. Not mine though.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and lifts his chin to look you in the eye. He catches a glimpse of the expression of anger only a moment before it dissipates into bewilderment. You lean back, eyes following the movement of Jungkook's hands as he reaches forward to bare your palms to the ceiling. Sure enough, blood coats the skin there, and deep crescent cuts mar the middle of your palms, still oozing the red liquid. Your hands are trembling again, fingers twitching. "Is there a first aid kit in here?"

"I, um, yea there's one in the pantry," you whisper in response.

Jungkook pulls away and darts for the pantry in search of the object in mind. He digs around for a bit longer than he would like, having to shift random snack and cereal boxes to get to it, and upon returning to the kitchen, he finds you at the sink. You're running hot water over your palms, silently watching the blood leave red streaks in the clear liquid and fall into the sink unceremoniously.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" You ask under your breath.

"I deserved it. I've been told that I'm too vocal with my opinions, and it gets me into trouble more often than not." He shrugs as he pops the first aid kit open.

"I'm sorry that I hit you."

"You don't need to apologize."

A pause. Then,

"Yes I do."

"I deserved it."

"Okay."

He steals a glance at you out of the corner of his eye, then turns the water off for you and breaks open one of the packs of sterile alcohol prep pads.

"Is this what happened when you fought with Mingyu and Yesung? I saw the blood on Yesung's cheek but wasn't sure where it came from…”

"It happens a lot," you admit. Your fingers twitch when Jungkook presses the alcohol pad against your wounds, but you relax them a moment later after getting used to the sting. "Better than cutting myself, right?" He presses the pad a bit too hard, and you visibly wince at the force of the contact. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke about that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything as he turns away, dumping the used prep pads in the trash can. You've taken over when he returns to his post by your side, and you tug the roll of white gauze loose. Jungkook views your attempts to wrap your hands up by yourself. You begin to struggle with the motions not long after, so he pulls it away from you and begins to wrap your palms himself.

"Why do you think you'll hurt me if I get close?" He asks. Maybe it's the attempts to help you, or the fact that you feel a bit guilty for hitting him, but you actually relent and decide to answer his question.

"That's what happens to everyone who gets close to me."

"Is that the case for Namjoon and Seokjin?"

"In all honesty, Seokjin doesn't know me very well. He never asks personal questions. Often, he talks about himself instead, and I can't blame him for that because I know it's not something he can wholly control. As for Namjoon…there's always been some sort of unspoken agreement. He doesn't ask, maybe because he knows how I will react. But he does know a lot about me — a lot more than anyone else — but he doesn't push me the way some other people do. The same goes for the other way around. In my defense though, it's easier if I keep people at a distance."

"Who is it easier for?"

"Look, I know that it's selfish and wrong. I know I'm not a good person, but that isn't going to stop me from trying to protect myself."

"You are a good person. It's obvious from the way you talk about Taehyung and Hoseok, and I can tell that you want to help them more than anything else. It — well, it doesn't seem like you want to help yourself." Jungkook gently snips the gauze and locks it into place with two short pieces of tape. "You don't need to put up this facade to convince everyone that you're strong," he says while tucking everything back into the first aid kit.

"It's a bit ironic, I think. You are telling me all this, but you do the exact same things." You flex your fingers a bit around the new bandages, then meet Jungkook's eyes. "The strong facade isn't to hide myself. It's to be strong for other people who can't be strong themselves. I am being strong for Taehyung and Hoseok. Namjoon, Yoongi, Seokjin — they can take care of themselves and be strong for themselves, they've proven it to me before. But Taehyung and Hoseok don't have that sort of luxury."

"Why do you feel an obligation to do that for them? Is it some sort of repentance for past mistakes? Or a way to make up for not feeling good enough in the past?" Your eyes flit away from his, and Jungkook is sure that he's hit the nail on the head with his assumptions. The melancholic haze that drifts to cover your eyes in a dreary film reflects sadness.

"It's almost 3:33. We should head back soon." Jungkook purses his lips but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he returns the first aid kit to where he found it and comes back to the kitchen to find you clutching the edges of the sink, hovering over it. Jungkook announces his presence by flicking the light switch to the pantry off. You pull back from the sink, dragging the heel of your hand across your cheek before looking over at Jungkook. "I just want to make something clear before we go back. Whatever my reasons for helping Taehyung and Hoseok are…you don't need to know them. Helping is helping, and all I can hope is that it's enough."

"But if you don't help yourself—”

"Then who cares?"

"You should let people help you too," Jungkook says, putting a good amount of force behind his words. "I want to help you, and…if it means that you let me in even just a little bit, then I am more than willing to drop the strong facade I carry." You press your lips into a frown. Jungkook sighs as he realizes that you aren't going to offer any sort of response.

"Hello?"

Jungkook nearly jumps out of his own skin at the sound of the new voice. He jerks his head in the direction of the voice, and through the darkness, he finds a head of orange hair. Empty eyes. Blank expression. Staring forward, but not looking at anything in particular, and certainly not focused on either of the people standing in the middle of the kitchen. You, on the other hand, seem completely unfazed by the intrusion. You simply shift your head towards the sound, but once your eyes recognize Hoseok standing at the edge of the kitchen, you lunge forward.

"Hoseok?" You dart around the counter to get closer to the man. "Did something happen? Are you alright? What are you doing up? Why you not in your room?" You spew the questions at him.

"I-I — do I know you?" Jungkook thinks Hoseok is directing the question at him for a split second, but Hoseok is staring you in the eye instead. You freeze, the hand that you had outstretched to him falling to your side limply. Jungkook's heart clenches as he reads the expression that flashes across your face, one that bears sadness and a sense of familiarity as though this situation has repeated itself time and time again.

"No, you don't. Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure how I got here. I was walking in the hallway to a door at the end of the hall and then all the sudden, I'm here. I heard some voices, and they told me to go here I think. They directed me here. It was Yunho, Yunho told me to come here." Hoseok speaks with a flat tone, nothing showing through his stony exterior, and Jungkook watches on with increasing discomfort.

"He did? That's nice of him. He brought you here to us, so we can help you now."

"You know Yunho? Does Yunho know you?"

You offer a weak smile.

"Yes, Hoseok. I know Yunho very well. He's a friend of mine."

"Oh. I see. Are you a friend of mine too then?"

"I am. Can you tell me which door you were trying to get to earlier?"

"It was a door. A white door with a silver handle, and you know the door it — it sli-slides open instead of opening normally. And there's a plaque with a name on it — the name, um, the name was L/N Y/N. I knocked, I think, but there was no answer. I remember a voice telling me to go there whenever I felt like I was in trouble though. The voice — a girl's voice — she told me to go there when I needed her help, but she wasn't there. Then Yunho started telling me where to go instead."

"And now you're here."

"Yea, now I'm here."

"Well, Hoseok, uh…my name is L/N Y/N. Yunho must have remembered that I wasn't in my room and brought you here instead."

"You know Yunho?"

"Yes, I do." Your voice wavers a bit, smile falters, and you take a step closer to Hoseok. "I'm supposed to help you whenever you feel like you're in trouble. How are you?"

"I, well, I'm not good. The mean voices are telling me things again."

"Are they? Did you listen to them?"

"Yea…yes. I don't feel good."

Jungkook glances at his watch. 3:36. We missed our chance.

"Okay, I understand. Hoseok, do you want me to come back to your room with you?"

"I don't know. Yes. No. I'm not sure. I don't feel good though."

"Alright, let's walk back—Hoseok!" Jungkook snaps his head up as you shout. Hoseok stumbles forward, wobbling on his feet, then collapses. You lunge forward to catch him, but his weight presses down on you too hard, and suddenly both you and Hoseok are on the floor. "Shit. Shit! Fucking hell. Fuck!" You slap the ground, and the sound echoes.

"What do I do? What do I need to do? How do I help?" Jungkook asks as he rushes to meet you on the floor. Hoseok isn't moving anymore. Oh God…what happened?

"Go get someone! Now!"

"Who am I supposed to get?"

"I don't fucking care! Get someone! Hurry!" You yell. As your eyes meet his, Jungkook sees the shine of tears welling there, and he stumbles back at the sight.

"Okay, okay. Okay. Don't worry. I'll get someone. It'll be okay, Y/N."

"Fuck, no it won't! I was supposed to be there. I told him to come to my room, and I wasn't there!"

"Y/N, please. I am gonna get someone. Everything is going to be okay, I swear. I'll be right back."

"Fucking hurry," you shout, voice coming out a bit hoarse this time. Jungkook glances at you one more time before turning to sprint out of the kitchen. He doesn't think twice about the cameras in the hall. His mind is reeling so much at his point that he doesn't even know where he's going.

Is he okay? What happened? What the hell is going on?

Jungkook scans each plaque as he passes them, barely taking in the names, before stopping at a door near the end of the hall. He bangs his fist against the white panels, so much force and vehemence in his strikes that his fist stings from the impact. He keeps knocking and knocking, head craned to look down towards the mouth of the hallway as he does. When the door slides open, Jungkook nearly falls forward because his fist doesn't meet a hard surface anymore, and someone steadies him before he falls flat on his face.

"What the hell do you want?"

...

a/n: sorry this took so long to get out!! school kicked my butt recently, but i am very happy and proud of this chapter! i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do!

remember to check in with the survey here! i love getting your feedback!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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