#leaders joked about it the rest of the time i was a guides

[sandymybeloved]

everyone thinks I have a really high pain tolerance, because once on a guide camp I broke my arm in two places and didn't tell anyone till I got home

in reality there were no adults I knew around when it happened (it was a big camp with lots of different guide groups), so I walked back to our tents, I had to stop half way becuase I was crying so hard from pain I couldn't see, when i got there my guide leaders weren't there so i went to wait in the tent, passed out for an unknown length of time, got found by the leaders who told me off for not doing camp stuff, removing my ability to tell them I was in a serious amount of pain

anyway, I went and climbed a tree that afternoon, and convinced everyone my body started violently shaking becuase I was scared of heights (I am not, at least not those kinds of heights), and not because my arm was screaming at me and unable to support my weight

high pain tolerance my foot

[endless-ineffabilities]

So High School (1/2)

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : the one wherein the reader and Bucky navigate the initial stages of falling in love, and well, it feels a whole lot like high school <3

themes : friends to lovers, slight jealousy, Bucky and the reader are Avengers, everyone is alive!

word count : 2k ▪︎ masterlist

a/n : inspired by Taylor Swift's So High School - that song makes me so fuckin happy I can't even begin to explain it... This fic is all giddy and warm, kind of like when you have a crush, playfulness and jealousy abound 💙

You are almost certain that you left your beloved leather jacket back on the quinjet.

The mission made you exhausted, like they always do, and you remember taking your jacket off and settling in for a nap on the ride back to the Avengers compound.

"FRIDAY, is the quinjet still at base level?" you ask aloud to the compound's omnipresent AI overseer.

She chimes in straight away, "Yes, the quinjet is undergoing routine checks downstairs."

"Well," you say to yourself, "I could use the walk."

FRIDAY speaks again, unprompted, "There is one James Buchanan Barnes heading to your door right now."

Bucky? "Oh, right now?"

"Yes, he'll be knocking in 3... 2... 1..."

And sure enough, he does.

You open the door to his sheepish, easy smile. FRIDAY would definitely be picking up on your vitals, noting your clammy hands and jumping heartbeat.

You desperately hope that she would shut up about it, otherwise you might just literally throw hands with Tony.

"Hi," he greets. Just that - just 'hi' - and he has you blushing like a schoolgirl. Damn it.

"Hey," you reply. Glancing down, you realise that he has just what you're looking for.

The jacket. You mean your jacket. Mind out of the gutter, you kick yourself internally.

"I, uh, think you left this back at the - "

" - the quinjet."

"Right, and I, well - " he stammers, and you don't understand why, when you're clearly the nervous one here.

"You're... here to give it back to me," you help him out, smiling.

"Yeah," he nods, smiling back at you. Leaning against your doorframe, he stays right in place, and you suddenly feel conscious by the way he's just looking at you.

"Uhm, Bucky?" you break the silence after a while, anxiously laughing.

"Yeah, doll?"

"My jacket?" you hold out your hand expectantly.

"Oh, here," he quickly hands it over to you, and you thank him. But he stays, rubbing the back of his neck, brows furrowed in thought. "Listen, I was wondering if - "

"There you two are!" Sam's booming voice startles you, and you spot him walking down the hall. "Debriefing time, kids, come on."

"Oh, right," you groan, tossing your jacket somewhere behind you. Shutting your door, you turn to Bucky, "Sorry, Buck, can it wait?"

"Can what wait?" Sam butts in, ears like a bat. He nudges Bucky with his shoulder, and you swear you see Bucky glare at him, while blushing all the while.

"Nothing," he mumbles and the three of you make your way towards the elevators. When Sam becomes distracted by some new panelling Tony installed recently, you catch Bucky's eye, and shrug as if to say - you can tell me later.

He simply nods. When the doors open, you feel his hand on the small of your back, guiding you in. Just for the briefest of moments, but it lingers in your mind.

So much so, that Tony tosses a pencil at you during debriefing when you're spaced out and didn't answer his question.

"Daydreaming, princess?" Tony smirks.

"Leave her alone, Tony," Steve comes to your rescue, ever the considerate leader. "She's tired, just like the rest of us."

"Yeah, sure," Tony shrugs. "Or maybe Bionic Man over there is distracting her with all the staring he does."

"Shut up, Tony," Natasha protests, catching your surprised look.

"I'm not staring," you hear Bucky say.

"Oh, man, you stare all the time. At everything," Sam counters. "Especially at her."

"No. I don't."

"Yes, you do. Doesn't he, Steve?" Sam laughs, twisting around to share the joke with Steve, who just fondly shakes his head, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

Your mouth feels dry, face flushed from the suggestive bickering partially at your expense, and when you ask, "Alright, alright, what was your question, Tony?"

Tony cheekily smirks, and says, "Quick, Barnes, look away."

"Oh, god," you tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling.

It's a collective, "Tony!" that followed, likely from Steve and Nat. Possibly Bruce, too.

Tony asks you again, something about the safety measures in place for the civilians left behind.

When you answer his question, you can't help but feel a certain pair of blue eyes looking at you.

But that means nothing, right? Bucky's just listening to whatever you have to say. The mission had been important, after all.

Five minutes later, in the middle of Bruce's explanation, you feel it again.

So you look to the side, only slightly, catching Bucky quickly turning to draw his attention back at Bruce.

Oh.

"What are you smirking at me for?" you approach Natasha, while tightening your hand wraps. Some of the Avengers have convened for routine combat practice. You've been looking forward to it, mostly being cooped up in the two weeks after the recent mission.

Natasha sports her signature knowing look when she says, "You're paired with Barnes today, milochka moya."

"Bucky? And?" you clear your throat, and you clock Bucky and Sam entering the gym in your periphery. Is it just you or did your voice just crack? No, it couldn't have.

There's no reason to be nervous, no reason at all.

Sure, he'll get all sweaty and he'll have to get his hands on you and he'll get close... very close... pressed against...

"I see I've lost you already," Natasha is quick to note. "And we haven't even started yet."

Wanda joins you, greeting with, "Did you know you'll be paired with Barnes today?"

Oh my god. You exclaim, "Why is everyone making a big deal out of it?"

"Because," is all Wanda responds with.

"Thanks, Wanda," you nod sarcastically. "Thank you both. Can we just get this over with?"

"Guys?" you call out loudly, addressing everyone in the room.

"Yes, everyone. It is best if we start," Vision says, him being the supervisor for training today. Leave it to an all-knowing entity to be well-versed in every fighting art in existence.

He reads off the combat pairings for the day, and their assigned fighting style.

Clint and Nat, krav maga.

Wanda and Sam, aikido. Though to be fair, she doesn't really need to use her fists should it come to that. Wanda's powers were beyond your comprehension. This is mostly just a fun little exercise for her.

And finally, Vision says your name followed by Bucky's, with the fighting style of jiu-jitsu.

That damned close-contact sport. You're well-trained in it, thanks to your job, but it involves a lot of straddling and the opponent heavily breathing down on your face. It wasn't exactly your first choice out there in the field.

But here? Well, it seems like you don't really have a choice.

Well, you do. And would you really choose otherwise?

Close contact with Bucky?

"Hey, doll," he walks right over, all prepped and ready. Clad in a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants. One look at him and you know you're not likely to survive this training session.

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" you cheekily say, as you to walk over to your designated area of the room with him right on your tail.

He smiles, mumbling something which sounded like, " - let you do anything you want to me."

"I'm sorry?" you blurt out, occupying yourself with the control panel for the instructional hologram.

"Nothing," he bites his lip. Oh, he just knows you heard him.

"Okay, so - " The hologram starts right up, showing faceless figures go through a standard combat routine. Ankle sweep. Closed guard. Arm bar. Back and forth until someone taps out. Then all over again.

"Fun," you remark, moving to circle him on the mat. "Give it your best shot, Barnes."

He makes the first move, trying to sweep your leg with his own and failing. You're too quick for that. As long as you don't get sidetracked by that shit-eating smirk on his face, you'll be just fine.

He rushes at you again, but you jump out of the way. You manage you hook your leg around his torso, and use your whole weight to force him down on the mat.

You end up with one knee pressed to his chest, your forearm applying the slighest pressure on his throat. It's an easy position to counter, and he should be propelling you off of him already. Maneuvering your arm out of the way. Something. Anything.

But the man just stares.

You'll be damned, but Sam was right.

"Bucky, come on," you snap.

Instead of a countermove, he hits you with something more disarming. "You look good up there," he says.

"What?"

"I like the view," he only adds, speeding up the rush of warmth to your face.

Your body goes slack, and your pressure on his neck eases. You struggle to think of something nonchalant, something blasé to say in turn, when he takes advantage of the moment and flips the two of you over.

He ends up on top of you, legs caging you in, hands gripping your wrists by the sides of the face.

"Shit," you curse when you realise what just happened. "Well played."

"Thanks," he responds. "I meant it though, you do look pretty. Like always."

"Another trick, Buck?" You attempt to play it cool. Maybe you can play off the obvious flush on your face as physical exertion. Not whatever this is. Not because of him.

He only smiles, getting back on his feet and extending a hand out to you.

"Not a trick," he says, as you both get ready for the next round.

"I'd say I'm flattered, if you weren't trying to beat me in hand-to-hand combat."

"Doll, I think it's safe to say that you won already," he says, his gaze softening.

What is he on about? "Uhh, no, that was barely anything. We're supposed to keep going."

His brows furrow, though his smile stays in place, albeit a bit strained. "That's not what I meant," he exhales, reaching forward to attempt a restricting hold.

His expression turns serious then, steely gaze boring into you, analyzing your every move. He lunges at you, and you block him. But he tries again and again, each move more precise and forceful.

He steps back to take a breath, and you use the opportunity to sweep his ankle, but he sees it coming. In a flash, he pulls your arm and twists you around so that your back is pressed to his chest. You wrangle against him, making him fall on his back, but he keeps his hold on you.

His metal arm encases your torso with your arms pinned to your sides, and his legs wrap around yours. Air rushes out of you in shaky pants, and you move your head to the side, the only part of you still mobile.

And he's right there, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek. The tension is almost too much to bear, because you feel all of him - the solid planes of his torso, the coarseness of his facial hair growing out - and for the love of all things sacred, you hope you don't accidentally wriggle your ass against his crotch.

Bucky wishes so too. He would never be able to live that down, especially if one of the others would come around and notice.

"Do you yield?" His voice is rough, commanding against your ear. Even though it's nothing more than an assertive whisper, a shiver runs through your body.

"Y-yes," you muster, "I yield."

He keeps his hold on you a moment longer, and before you can ask him if something's wrong, and why he's not letting you go yet, he releases you.

And it doesn't bring you relief, surprisingly. Almost as if you just want to go right back into his embrace.

As you two get back on your feet, Vision's sudden appearance almost makes you keel over, startling the living daylights out of you.

"That was good," Vision comments.

"What the - Vis!" you place a hand on your chest to calm down. "Maybe announce yourself when you show up please!"

"But I've been standing here for approximately 37 seconds," he expertly says.

"Okay, well - "

"You both did not notice me," he goes on, matter-of factly. "Perhaps it might have something to do with your sheer focus on one another - "

"Okay, Vision, thank you," you attempt to intervene, to no avail.

" - which is good. In combat, you do need to stay hypervigilant. Although, might I comment, that the sudden increase in arousal hormones is not really conducive to battle - "

"Vision!" you and Bucky exclaim in unison.

Thankfully, Wanda notices and comes to your rescue, "O-kay, Vis, why don't you come and check mine and Sam's progress, hmm?"

"Of course," Vision complies immediately and they walk away hand in hand. Must have something to do with his undying penchant for Wanda.

Wanda throws you an apologetic shrug, before her eyes get drawn downward to something else near you, and she has to bite her lip to hold back a giggle.

You feel Bucky's hand take hold of your waist, ever so gentle, and everything else is quickly forgotten.

"You okay?" he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

He stands close, and you catch a hint of his scent, sandalwood and mint, layered beneath a musk that can only be undeniably Bucky.

You hum in affirmation. Shaking you head, you respond with, "Vision was just being... Vision. Can never keep his observations to himself." His thumb moves, caressing lightly at your waist, the movement seemingly instinctive for him.

"Yeah, well," he smiles to himself, before reaching up and tucking back a stray lock of hair from your face, "the thing about that droid is... he doesn't lie."

He steps back, rolling his shoulders, getting ready for another bout of combat. As if he didn't have you subdued already.

"He wasn't lying about me, at least," he smirks, before getting into a stance and putting his arms up.

Feeling brave, because there's no way you're going to come out of this interaction as the only one flustered, you respond with, "He wasn't lying about me, neither."

Bucky doesn't expect that, used to being the suave and cockier one out of this dynamic. His fighting stance loosens, and he barely croaks, "What?"

Gotcha.

It doesn't take long for you to sweep him off his feet.

When you're left straddling him once more, you hit him back with, "I like the view."

He bites his lip, and then laughs, flushed and impressed.

Still on the ground, staring up at you, he decisively ends the match, the final blow too much for you to bear. Because he settles for saying, "Still doesn't beat my view, beautiful."

After more than an hour of fidgeting around your room, clothes strewn everywhere and music blasted to calm you down, you were finally ready.

Bucky had asked you what you were doing for the weekend, and you said you didn't have anything in mind, but asked him if he wanted to watch a movie in the common lounge with you.

He eagerly agreed, before you two were interrupted by Sam mentioning something about new upgrades to Red Wing.

So you didn't get to clarify what the nature of the plan was. Likely it was just another hangout. It wouldn't be the first time you and Bucky watched a movie together, went on excursions on your motorbikes, or headed out to grab some sushi.

Save for Natasha and Wanda, he's the one you spend the most time with.

And none of those times ever was a date.

But you feel nervous as you walk down the hallway. You've been nervous all the while you spent getting ready, unable to choose the right top, and eventually settling for a V-neck cobalt blue shirt that he once said he liked on you.

You're nervous because tonight could be it. You've taken it upon yourself to finally ask him.

Ask him what exactly? Whether he likes you as someone more than a friend? Whether there is a reason to all that staring that he does?

Whether he wants to kiss you as badly as you want to kiss him?

So, something along those lines.

He's standing right around the entrance to the common lounge, and you immediately think at how sweet it is that he's waiting for you.

Until he broke the news.

"Doll, I - " Bucky says, right after you come into view. "Oh, wow, you look great."

Smiling widely, you look down like it was nothing, like you didn't just spend the last hour worrying. "Thanks, Buck."

"Uhh, I have something to tell you, actually. You remember Yori? The man from - "

"Of course I remember him," you nod, now confused at what he's getting onto.

"Yeah," he hesitates, not sure he wants to speak further. All he wants is to spend the night curled up in the lounge with you, but all that is gone when he continues, "he kind of set me up on a date."

"A date?" your stomach sinks.

"With Leah. You know Leah? The girl who works at the restaurant that we go to sometimes with Yori?"

"Yeah," you shrug and look away, hoping your expression doesn't give away too much, "I know who she is. So you have a date, huh?"

"Tonight," he confirms. "I didn't... didn't even ask her, really. But last night at dinner, Yori asked and she heard and said yes - "

"She's really lovely. This is good, Buck."

"Yes, but we made plans, and I didn't want to - "

"No, don't worry about it." you put your palms up, as if to show him that you take the situation lightly. It was no problem, after all. He has to go on this date. You can watch movies together any time.

"Doll," he sighs. "I was actually thinking that, since we had plans already, you could come with me? I'm sure she would understand - "

"Bucky," you laugh dryly, "I am not crashing your date."

"But - "

"No buts," you have to affirm. "You have a date, so it has to be just you and her."

He purses his lips, nodding. He tries to gauge your expression, whether you're pissed at him or anything, but he's only met with a reassuring smile.

"What time is your date?" you ask.

"In about 40 minutes," he replies, giving you a good once-over again, taking you in fully. You really looked good, and he wants nothing more than to just stare at you the whole damn night. If only he wasn't so polite. If only he had the guts to just turn Leah down.

His face falls when you say, "I guess you better go," with a hint of enthusiasm, not knowing that it's your attempt at putting on a brave face.

"What will you do?" he asks.

"I don't know," you shrug. "I'm sure I'll find something. The others are mostly around so - "

"Hey!" Steve rounds up the corner, still clad in his riding jacket, having returned from outdoors.

"Going somewhere, you two?" Steve asks, his signature congenial smile in place.

"Not me," you respond, smiling back. "But Bucky here has a date actually."

"A date?" Steve says, taken aback. Did Bucky not tell him about this? He looks between the two of you, trying to put things into place, "Do you mean - ?" He trails off, gesturing at you.

"No!" A nervous laugh bubbles out of you. Of course, not with you. You wish.

"Really?" Steve makes a face, like the thought of Bucky going on a date with someone else was ridiculous, but he quickly collects himself. It's none of his business, for now. But he'll surely grill his bestfriend on it later.

"Don't you have to leave, Buck?" you turn to him. "You don't want to keep Leah waiting."

"Yeah, I suppose I should. I'll, uh, talk to you later, okay?" He says, taking a few measured steps back. Not wanting to turn away, and have you out of his sight.

"Sure," you smile, but it's weak and you know it is. Watching him walk away, you can no longer hide the disappointment you feel.

Bucky is still within earshot when you turn to Steve and innocently ask, "Are you busy, Steve? Care to watch a movie in the lounge?" Steve of course agrees, and lets his arm drape around you.

Bucky knows that you and Steve are just friends. Steve has gotten a hint of how he feels about you, and far be it from him to take his friend's girl.

But it doesn't quell that sinking feeling, when he looks back. He sees you smiling up at Steve, as the two of you disappear into the lounge.

It's going to be a long night.

[tinytinyblogs]

Can you please do Stray kids members how they would act around the female 9th member

Welcome To The Team!

Skz has a new member and they trying to get close to you, too.

Hyung line, Maknae line (Coming soon)

💬I apologize for the delay in fulfilling this request—I’ve been quite overwhelmed with a lot on my plate and feeling exhausted. However, I’m here now and ready to assist. I genuinely appreciate receiving feedback and requests from all of you, and it always makes me happy to help. Wishing you all a wonderful day!

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Meeting Chan for the first time feels effortless and comfortable. As the leader of the group, it’s only natural for Chan to take on the role of being the bridge between you and the rest of the members. True to his gentle nature, he has an uncanny ability to dissolve any awkwardness right from the start. There's something about the way he carries himself—calm and approachable—that instantly puts you at ease. Even if you tend to feel nervous around new people, his presence reassures you. It's as if he knows exactly how you're feeling, intuitively recognizing any discomfort you might have. What stands out most is how he helps you connect with others, easing you into the group dynamic without making it feel forced. He doesn't just leave you to fend for yourself but subtly helps guide the conversation, making sure you don't feel left out. It's his attentiveness that truly makes a difference. He’s always checking in with you, making sure you're comfortable, and adjusting the interaction to suit your pace. Chan’s genuine care and effortless charm create a space where meeting new people no longer feels daunting but enjoyable and even fun.

As you grow closer to Chan, his care and affection become more evident with each passing day. What started as a gentle and considerate friendship blossoms into something even more meaningful as he lets his affectionate side shine through. He enjoys being at the heart of the group, craving connection not just with the other members but with you in particular. It’s subtle at first—small gestures like sitting closer to you or casually brushing against your arm—but soon, he becomes more open with his warmth. Out of nowhere, he’ll wrap you in a hug, a gesture that feels both comforting and familiar. His eyes often linger on you, not in an intrusive way, but in a way that makes you feel truly seen. There’s an unspoken admiration in the way he watches you, as if he’s quietly appreciating every little habit and detail about you that makes you unique. Whether you’re laughing at a joke or lost in thought, Chan’s attention is always there, taking it all in. Sometimes, he would gently caress your hair, a soft, caring gesture that immediately made you feel more at home. His tone was always soft and considerate, and he'd ask questions to make sure you were okay: “Are you feeling alright? Are you comfortable? Is there anything bothering you?”

And while he’s affectionate, his care goes deeper than just hugs and soft looks. Chan isn't afraid to speak up when something’s wrong, giving you a playful scolding or a serious talk when he feels it’s necessary. His gentle reprimands come from a place of genuine concern, always with the intention of helping you grow or stay on the right path. But no matter the situation, he’s never far when you’re in need. If you're feeling down or overwhelmed, Chan is there in an instant, offering support and encouragement, making sure you know that you don’t have to face anything alone. Through it all, his affection and care create a sense of security, making you feel valued, protected, and understood. His gentle encouragement helped you find your place within the team, and he made it clear that you belonged. With Chan by your side, you never felt out of place or like an outsider; instead, he created an environment where you could flourish and grow, surrounded by the unwavering support of someone who genuinely cared. His thoughtful presence helped smooth out any initial awkwardness, allowing you to build a strong connection with the group and become part of the family.

Minho

Minho, being naturally the most reserved person in the group, approaches new situations and people with quiet caution. During your first meeting, he doesn’t say much beyond a polite, brief self-introduction. He tends to stay on the outskirts of conversations, observing everything around him with his sharp, thoughtful eyes. It's clear that he prefers to take his time, watching and absorbing the energy of new people before diving in. With you, it's no different—he doesn’t rush to interact, opting instead to silently evaluate and adjust to your presence. In those early moments, you may notice him sitting quietly or exchanging a few words when necessary, but his true nature lies in how carefully he observes everything. He’s taking note of the dynamics and your habits, making sense of the situation before he fully steps in. Minho’s approach to connecting is slow and deliberate. It’s his way of giving himself time to feel comfortable.

After some time, you’ll start to notice subtle changes. Slowly but surely, he begins to make his way into your world. At first, it’s small—he’ll join in on a group conversation where you’re involved, adding a comment or two, enough to make his presence felt but without drawing too much attention. Little by little, these moments grow more frequent. You start seeing him join in on light small talk, his words carefully chosen but meaningful. Over time, the walls he had built around himself start to lower. What began as casual contributions to group discussions evolves into more personal interactions. One day, you realize he’s seeking you out on his own, initiating conversations that aren’t just polite but thoughtful and genuine. As you grow closer to Minho, his reserved nature starts to melt away, revealing a more playful, talkative side. He begins to open up, often filling the space with his teasing and lighthearted jokes. He loves to mess with you, whether it's by cracking jokes or poking fun at you just to get a reaction.

He has a way of spotting you from across the room and coming over to talk, even if it's about something completely random—he doesn't mind, as long as he has your attention. When it comes to helping you with dance practice, Minho’s patience and focus shine through. He’s always ready to offer guidance, paying extra attention to your steps and making sure you’re on the right track. He’s supportive but never misses an opportunity to play around, and with a mischievous glint in his eye, he’ll warn you, “One more wrong step, and I’ll tickle you,” his playful glare letting you know he’s only half-serious. His combination of care and teasing makes the time spent with him both productive and fun, and it’s clear that he enjoys every moment of being around you. Even though he claims not to be a fan of physical touch, it's obvious that when it comes to you, that's far from the truth. His hands always seem to find their way around you—whether it’s a casual arm over your shoulder or a playful nudge. His actions speak louder than his words, and it’s clear that he enjoys being close to you, even if he won’t admit it.

Changbin

When you first meet Changbin, he greets you with a wide, infectious grin that instantly sets the tone for your interaction. It's clear from the start that he’s the most enthusiastic about meeting you, his excitement practically buzzing through the air. With his high-energy personality, he makes you feel immediately welcome, creating a warm atmosphere where it’s impossible to feel out of place. His positivity is contagious, and you quickly realize that with Changbin, there’s no room for awkwardness or hesitation. From that very first moment, you feel like you can lean on him. He has an effortless way of breaking the ice, making you feel comfortable despite the newness of it all. His easygoing nature shines through as he pulls you into conversations, introduces you to others, and helps you find your footing in the group. It's like he’s taking you under his wing, ensuring that you don’t feel like a stranger for long. His knack for building connections isn’t just limited to himself—he goes out of his way to help you become friends with the others, acting as the bridge that brings everyone together.

Changbin’s energy and enthusiasm create a space where you feel seen, appreciated, and instantly part of the group dynamic. Even during your first meeting, he makes you feel like you belong, as if being around him is the most natural thing in the world. Changbin had a genuine warmth about him, and though he was incredibly talkative, he was also incredibly thoughtful. He knew exactly where to draw the line, never pushing you too far outside your comfort zone. While he loved engaging with you and pulling you into conversations, he also had a strong sense of awareness about when to step back. If he noticed you growing tired or if the conversation began to lose its flow, he’d gracefully shift gears or allow you the space to take a break. As your bond with Changbin deepens, your interactions become a blend of playful mischief and genuine affection. You both find yourselves constantly teasing each other, exchanging nicknames, and engaging in spirited play fights.

Changbin often jokes about your height, laughingly declaring, “We’re definitely the shorty duo—don’t even try to deny it!” His light-hearted teasing and the friendly banter become a hallmark of your relationship, creating a dynamic where fun and laughter are always just around the corner. But beneath all the playful antics, Changbin's true nature shines through. When you’re feeling down or going through a tough time, he’s quick to shift his focus from fun to support. His primary goal becomes making you smile and bringing joy back into your day, no matter what it takes. Whether it’s through a silly joke, a heartfelt gesture, or just being there to listen, Changbin demonstrates that his care goes beyond just playful interactions. It’s this balance—between the fun, carefree side and the thoughtful, caring side—that makes your friendship with Changbin so special. No matter how much teasing or play-fighting there is, you know that when it really matters, he’s someone you can count on to brighten your day and be there for you, offering both laughter and support.

Hyunjin

When you first meet Hyunjin, he may come across as somewhat shy and reserved. He tends to keep his conversations brief and polite, not wanting to intrude or make a fuss. This initial reticence is part of his nature, and while he may not be very talkative at the beginning, he remains courteous and respectful. Hyunjin’s sensitivity can sometimes lead to misunderstandings, especially when you're still getting to know each other. This might result in a few minor disagreements or awkward moments as you both navigate the nuances of your interactions. These initial conflicts are often a result of miscommunications rather than any real friction. However, as you both spend more time together and become more familiar with each other, these early misunderstandings will gradually dissipate. Hyunjin’s true, warmer side will begin to emerge, revealing his more open and engaging personality. As you both get to know each other better, the initial shyness gives way to a deeper connection, allowing for a more comfortable and genuine friendship to develop.

Once you've had the chance to warm up and move past the initial awkwardness or silly disagreements with Hyunjin, he’s quick to make amends by engaging with you on a more personal level. He’ll start asking about your hobbies, interests, and what you enjoy doing in your free time. This genuine curiosity helps bridge the gap between you, and as you discover common interests and shared passions, you’ll find that your connection deepens. As you both open up to each other, Hyunjin becomes more expressive and involved. He’s eager to share his creative thoughts and ideas with you, enjoying the process of exploring and learning together. Whether it’s working on a project, diving into a new hobby, or just discussing your favorite topics, he takes pleasure in collaborating and spending time with you. His enthusiasm for sharing his new discoveries means that you become his go-to person for exciting news or fresh ideas.

Hyunjin’s approach to friendship is rooted in a desire to connect and grow together. He loves finding new ways to explore and learn, and he values having someone to share these experiences with. When he comes across something new or inspiring, you’re always the first person he wants to tell. This constant sharing and collaborative spirit make your relationship with him not only more meaningful but also filled with creativity and mutual support. "Don’t be silly—I told you to wear mine,” he says with a playful smile, tossing his hat in your direction. Sharing is something he truly enjoys, and he’s always happy to offer advice or lend a helping hand whenever you need it. His willingness to share extends beyond just material things; he also values open communication and turns to you whenever he needs someone to talk to. Whether he's seeking guidance, sharing a personal thought, or just needing a listening ear, he feels comfortable confiding in you, appreciating the support and understanding you provide.

[puddingyun]

slip . ݁₊ ⊹ k.hj

joong x reader

18+ mdni

: ~520 words, smut, nipple play, grinding, kissing :

day 8 of fff24 ♡

It was an accident, really. You were straddling Hongjoong's lap, panting into his mouth as you both made out. Every movement was lazy, Hongjoong's moans soft as his hands guided your hips to move back and forth against him. It was the end of a long day and the two of you were alone in the bed you shared. There was no rush to do anything, your stomach filled with butterflies just from a simple make out session. Then you moved your hands from where they were resting on each side of Hongjoong's head, slowly moving to his shoulders and then down his chest. 

"Ah–!"

Hongjoong's back arched into your touch, his next breath coming out shaky. You pulled back a little and saw that your hands were resting on his pecs, fingers against his nipples. Without another word you leaned back down to keep kissing him while you brushed your fingers over his nipples again. 

"God."

This time the reaction was stronger, his torso shuddering as he pushed his chest against your hands. You opened your eyes to look at him and found his face flushed, lips wet and kiss-swollen, and his eyes desperately avoiding any eye contact. 

"You like that, baby?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. Hongjoong answered with a shy nod, squeezing his eyes shut when you pinched one of his nipples. He cried out, humping up against you as you squeezed his chest with a giggle, loving the way your fingers dug into the soft muscle. "That's so hot."

"You think?" Hongjoong asked. You smiled down at his red face. He was so used to being his group's leader that softer things like these flustered him to no end. You circled his nipples with your thumbs, varying the pressure until the whimpers coming from Hongjoong turned into long, airy moans that made you throb with want.

"Yeah. It's hot as fuck," you murmured right against his lips. You moved your hips to grind down against him and he quickly returned the movements, groaning into your mouth and leaking so much precum that you could feel it through both your layers of underwear. "Love finding out about all the things that turn you on, Joong."

His hips stuttered against yours, his movements irregular as he slipped his fingertips beneath the waistband of your underwear. You could feel his blunt nails digging into your skin and his moans more strained with each brush of your thumbs against his nipples. 

"Fuck, honey, wait, I'm gonna cum," he moaned, trembling beneath you. "Please, fuck–"

You giggled as you pinched his nipples one last time before letting go, moving to rest your hands against the pillows where they had been before. Hongjoong whimpered, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

"I thought you were gonna let me," Hongjoong whined. You rolled your eyes, still grinding him against him languidly.

"Only place you're cumming is inside of me," you joked. Hongjoong's eyes sharpened as they moved down your body and stopped on where you were connected, both pairs of underwear wet with slick and precum. 

"Take your panties off then, baby."

[valictini]

I was watching a video analysing how the Yiga clan were handled in botw and how the person analysing it lamented the fact that Kohga was a joke character who totally destroyed the much more threatening image the yiga clan had all throughout the game. Although I do understand the sentiment (I felt that way for a long time) I’ve come to realise that we might not be viewing it in the right perspective. I ended up writing a comment under that video explaining how I saw things, and realised that maybe it could interest people here too? So here is the fleshed out version of it:

I think part of why they made Kohga extremely goofy compared to a way less goofy clan of literal assassins is to emphasise how even though the clan originally held some understandable beliefs, it has become a cult of personality over the years, and like most cults, the leader is way less charismatic than his followers make him out to be. Indeed, from the outside, it seems absurd how anyone could take Kohga seriously, let alone kill under his command, but from the inside, Kohga is the Beloved Leader That Guides Them Towards Victory, and anyone threatening him deserves to die.

In a way, yiga clan members feel like vulnerable, impressionable people who were enrolled into a cult and given a Big Family and a purpose (and a lethal weapon) by their lovable Master Kohga who wants the best for them… Except if you want to get out, then you’re a filthy traitor who also deserves to die. It’s especially visible when you beat him and they all get personally mad at you for killing him. They didn’t care about Ganon, they didn’t seem to actually understand the bigger picture, they only cared about Kohga.

It also shows how, like the rest of Hyrule, the Yigas are very much disconnected from their own history, seemingly holding on the grudge their ancestors held more as an excuse to continue to enact violence and perpetuate the cult of personality than fighting for a “noble” cause. Only Kohga seems to actually care about Calamity Ganon, and the rest of the yigas seem to be just tools to him. Wether or not he’s actually conscious of what he’s doing is unclear. Is he a fully aware con artist, or is he purely another product of Yiga indoctrination?

So yeah, to me it feels like a parody/critic/mockery of cult dynamics. It shows that this gang of assassins are indeed a real menace, but for seemingly no reason other than “that one lunatic they admire told them to” and “if they go away they get killed”. The reason why the clan was originally created becomes almost anecdotal. Under the current leader, no one is required to actually know what they’re doing, they just need to follow orders.

In the end, I think it is the intention the developers had because cults are a rampant problem in Japan. At the very least, even if it’s not a actually conscious critic, it’s a concept that is much more present in their cultural landscape than ours and that almost certainly influenced how they handled the Yiga clan. Basically, cults are not cool and can even be dangerous both for the public and their members. Cult leaders especially are not cool and often are con artists. Therefore, Kohga couldn’t be badass, he had to be a doofus getting beaten in the most unexceptional way possible.

[twilightarc-gm]

hello :D can you tell me why you like chengxian?

A Non-Comprehensive Guide to Twi's Love of ChengXian

Yes I spent time making this edit. I love them and I'm not an artist so sue me.

Short Answer: I love these two self-sacrificing assholes and their aesthetics and I think they should kiss and get a happy ending for once. If MXTX doesn't want to do it, I'll write it instead! 😤

Long Answer: Click the Read More

"As long as we both live in this world, we'll meet sooner or later." -- Vol1 Chap6

👏 MDZS literally doesn't happen without Yunmeng Shuangjie, it doesn't happen without the huge sense of debt and love and envy and pride and duty that comprises everything about the relationship between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng. They must meet because their stories are so wrapped up in each other that where one ends and the other begins is a blurred line at best.

MXTX put in so much work to separate these two for the happily ever after she wanted and if you think about it too much you start to wonder if the Wei Wuxian we grew to love with this story, that says this kind of line, is ever going to be really happy without Jiang Cheng in his life.

����It's not incest, but the boys wish it was. I am half-joking about this, but also absolutely serious. The vague labels on their relationship is a very big part of the point!

They are very much the Shixiong/shidi(mei) xianxia/wuxia romance trope. The talented and wonderful shixiong. The shidi(mei) that adores their shixiong but can't be honest about it. Childhood friends to sweethearts. MXTX uses this trope and subverts it by not making it endgame or letting the story just end with the tragedy of the First Siege.

She uses the power of this trope to feed into everything in and around the secret of the Golden Core Transfer. It ends up affecting the entire cultivation world as the greatest token of love, of devotion, of sacrifice, of consequence, of dubious consent, of the crux of the very story itself... which is just incredibly powerful.

And the rest of MDZS flows from that.

He had always thought Jiang Cheng would be the one standing with him, and Lan Wangji against him. He'd never imagined that reality would be the complete opposite.

This is literally errata from vol1 official pg 262 and I swear it wasn't put in the first time because it feeds ChengXian too much. You say that Wei Wuxian thought Jiang Cheng would always be by his side? He couldn't imagine a world where that wasn't true?? That now he's in a reality where it's the opposite??? Omg???? Like this is the sum of the ChengXian tragedy right here because MXTX made a reality where they couldn't be together! 💔😭

Like LOOK!

“When you become the family head, I’ll be your subordinate. We’ll be just like our fathers. Who cares about the Twin Jades of Lan? Our Yunmeng has Twin Heroes! So—just shut up. Who said you’re not worthy of being family head? No one’s allowed to say that, not even you. Say it and you’re asking to get beat.” --Vol3 Chap12

You see for me it's about the strain between love and duty and all the points where those two cross.

My actual favorite romance trope is king/lionheart - lord/devoted - leader/subordinate - patron/agent - master/servant - 知己 (zhiji)

this relationship of knowing is one that is worth dying for

“So when Wei-gongzi returned to seek us out, my jiejie was reluctant to even attempt the procedure, at first. She warned him that writing an essay was one thing, but actually doing it was quite another. She wasn’t even confident she’d have a fifty percent chance of success.

“But Wei-gongzi kept pestering her. He said fifty percent was fine; the chances of success and failure were equal. Even if it didn’t work out and his core was wasted, he wasn’t worried about his future—but that wasn’t the case for Sect Leader Jiang. He was too competitive, too focused on what he stood to gain and lose in this aspect, since cultivation was his life. And if Sect Leader Jiang could only ever be an ordinary, mediocre person, his life would be over.” --Vol4 Chap19

Wei Wuxian was willing to risk his life on a 50% chance if it meant Jiang Cheng would Live. Yes yes Wei Wuxian's patent assholery here about how Jiang Cheng is so competitive etc, classic fooling himself. The point is that Jiang Cheng wouldn't be Jiang Cheng anymore and Wei Wuxian would rather die than experience that. Would rather cut himself apart than fail to protect his shidi.

Speaking of failures...

Perhaps there was this:

“I didn’t get caught by the Wen Clan because I insisted on returning to Lotus Pier to retrieve my parents’ bodies.

“When you went to buy rations in that small town during our escape, a group of Wen cultivators caught up to us.

“I noticed them early and left the spot where I’d been sitting to hide in a corner of the street. I didn’t get caught, but they were patrolling, and they would have surely bumped into you while you were getting us food.

“So I ran out and lured them away.” --Vol5 Chap22

Jiang Cheng never wanted Wei Wuxian to die, let alone die for him. He breaks down at the shrine coming to terms with what he will ultimately think of as his fault. We know this because when he feels at fault he doesn't speak of his good intentions. So, he distracts the Wen-dogs from Wei Wuxian > Gets caught and survives, broken > as far as he knows he's miraculously healed > only to find out that Wei Wuxian was taken by the Wen-dogs anyway 3 months later > Jiang Cheng never speaks of his failures, so will never say how lost his core in the first place > a war and 13 years later he finds out that not only did he fail to protect Wei Wuxian from Wen-dogs, but now also knows unequivocally that Wei Wuxian's descent into heretic cultivation was his fault... again.

As tears streamed down his face, he hissed through gritted teeth, “…Why…why didn’t you tell me?!”

And he begs to know why Wei Wuxian would do this!

“Consider it a repayment of my debt to the Jiangs,” Wei Wuxian added.

Jiang Cheng raised his head and looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “…To my father, my mother, my sister?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Not him. Wei Wuxian won't admit it's for Jiang Cheng--the shidi he meant to protect as a good shixiong, the master he was meant to support, the heir and symbol of the clan and sect he loved so much he would readily lose a hand to protect.

The way Wei Wuxian tortures Wen Zhuliu by leaving him whole and standing while his charge Wen Chao is torn up bit by bit... The delicious parallels of -- you made me a failure, now see how you like it, watch the one you are meant to protect be torn asunder.

...

Hold on I need a moment...

...

How about some cute stuff?

Wei Wuxian waved him off and then hooked his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. -- Vol1 Chap4

He put his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and dragged him over to the veranda railings to sit down.

[...]

Jiang Cheng was quiet, but he seemed to have calmed down a little. Wei Wuxian put an arm around his shoulders again. --Vol3 Chap12

💗Wei Wuxian is always all over the person/s he likes and loves. Jiang Yanli might have been the first to carry Wei Wuxian but Jiang Cheng's were the first shoulders he chose to hang off of. Jiang Cheng stands so straight because he is used to bearing Wei Wuxian's weight! (Also he's of the gentry, and you can make arguments about a rod in places where the sun doesn't shine, but Wei Wuxian benefits regardless!)

Among all the kicks and shoves and rough housing and sparring, they are just so tactile.

Gif from this post.

… Jiang Cheng, walk slower, you’re gonna throw me off.”

Not only did Jiang Cheng want to throw Wei Wuxian off, but he practically wanted to bash his head into the ground to create a human crater. “So fussy even though I’m carrying you!”

“I didn’t tell you to carry me,” Wei Wuxian reasoned.

Jiang Cheng flew into a rage. “If I didn’t carry you, I think you’d hang out at their ancestral hall all day, rolling around on the floor. I can’t afford this embarrassment! Lan Wangji took fifty more strikes than you, but he walked away on his own, and you’re not embarrassed, pretending to be an invalid? I don’t want to carry you anymore. Get the hell off!”

“No, I’m wounded,” Wei Wuxian said. --Vol1 Chap4

💜 Yes I am bringing back this quote from my Jiang Cheng appreciation post.

Hnng, I am trying to be more concise, but like one of the things I also enjoy in romance is how two imperfect people choose to be together and that choice that they make is the gold and solder that fits the pieces together into art. Sure MDZS didn't want to go there even though that's where it started, but to me it will only ever be the story of Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

Honestly even Yi City arc is YMSJ | CX to me.

Song Lan = Jiang Cheng

Xiao Xingchen = Wei Wuxian

Baoshan Sanren is involved

Eyes = Golden Core

Baixue Temple = Yunmeng Jiang

GUILT

RUNNING AWAY

Xue Yang = Yuan Qi (Resentment) Modao/Guidao

CORRUPTION

A-Qing = lwj being obsessed with WWX and fighting his use of guidao like a-Qing is distrustful of XY and XXC being friends with him.

XXC kills SL = WWX kills JC (figuratively, JYL's death destroyed the last of the JC from their childhood and all the trust he had in WWX (you cannot tell me that WWX doesn't feel like he caused JYL's death (he couldn't control the corpse that hurt her, he didn't sense the sword coming for him and she had to protect him)))

XXC's suicide and shattered soul is thus my grounds for headcanon to what actually happened to WWX at the First Siege, just sayin'

...

Anyway that's a bunch of canon stuff how about the realm of fanfiction/art?

Meme Format Reasons Twi is unwell about ChengXian:

From this post (yes that's my same edit)

Art Commissioned (So Far, more on the way and some I can't share yet) for ChengXian:

Happy ChengXian with Wei Wuxian in Purple by @robinade

Supportive ChengXian in pretty clothes! by Sugar_Shoal

Some more points for consideration:

💗 Point 1: They can't be normal about each other, due in large part by the people who raised them being unable to be normal about them either.

💗 Point 2: Their opposing ideologies, duties, and priorities make for the best drama, but in a better narrative, would balance each other.

💗 Point 3: Martial sibling romance ➡ tragedy! They fought together! Thought the future would be them together always! Then everything in the narrative tears it apart and all they're left with are the ashes of their choices and the lies that buried them.

💗 Point 4: Every AU where they end up happy instead!! 😭 I can't wait for @twinclownsoflotuspiers next CX Happy Ending event! Thankfully there is also @omiixcx coming up this APR 21st-27th! 👀 Yes that was a promo and prod.

💜 Point 5: ChengXian Pros = Zongzhu-shidi getting to love and protect his shixiong fully and truly without restraint.

🖤 Point 6: XianCheng Pros = Overprotective shixiong merciless in his affections for his Zongzhu-shidi.

💗 Point 7: Ship them for tropes based on miscommunication, acts of service, there was only one bed, boundary issues, genderfuckery, soul bound by choice, bickering, bantering, finishing each other's sentences, married-divorced-never-were, childhood shenanigans, cutting oneself on the other and denying the blood ever was...

...

I am not even getting into the monster/monster-maker aspect, am I? They are both at the same time!

JC makes WWX a monster by being the recipient of the golden core and believing WWX has control of guidao so encourages its use.

WWX makes JC a monster by lying to him until their relationship is broken irrevocably at the Bloodbath and years after JC is known for hunting demonic cultivators.

If you want to get really dark with it, there's also the cannibalistic aspect. WWX becomes a part of JC with the transfer. JC unwittingly consumes WWX and his fortune. The golden core is in the lower dantian, the belly, behind and below the navel. The symbology..! XianCheng is really good for the more gothic themes of the ship.

Let's be real, the vibes are straight up Wuthering Heights in multiple facets. MXTX recently admitted to that novel was one she read so insert conspiracy theory red string board meme here!

...

I spend a lot of time readdressing the themes introduced with the YMSJ dynamic and are exacerbated by the golden core transfer and the way Wei Wuxian handles and fails to handle that situation. I like how destructive they are about each other. There's a lot of potential there to create something together as well, but they were never given the chance.

Ideally, after the Jiang parents were gone and not influencing them anymore, or if they aged up enough to just stand on their own—and Wei Wuxian has his cultivation intact... Well in that scenario they could have easily stayed the Twin Prides/Heroes of Yunmeng and they would have been so happy being in the home they both loved and making the most of their lives one step at a time and arguing the whole way.

...

That's what fanfiction is for! 💜💗🖤

Hey, you made it to the end! I hope that was entertaining at least there is so much going on with this ship sometimes my brain just goes brrrr about it, y'know? Take care! Happy CX thoughts to you!

[whenlostinthedarkness]

Afterglow: Chapter 2 / Part 1 - In My Way

Leader Singer!Reader x Lead Guitarist!Ellie Williams

Photo by @abbysthighs ; edited by me

Summary: You and the band attend a party after the show, which leaves you social exhausted. Ellie takes note and you both decide to head back to the hotel for some much needed come down time from the surplus of social interaction

Warnings: Social anxiety, Weed smoking, and mentions of reader & Ellie’s past relationship; I believe that is it.

A/N: If you haven't caught on by now, each chapter will be named after a MUNA song that is fitting for the situation. Listen to ' In My Way' here.

Intro | Chapter One |

A soft towel was thrown around your shoulder by Dina as you and the rest of your bandmates exited from the stage, leaving a crowd still screaming as they begged for yet another encore, even though you'd already given them two on top of the one you did every night of every show.

"Well, they were fucking crazy", Jesse laughed while dabbing his forehead with his own towel.

"Seriously! I think that was the highest energy we've gotten from a crowd so far," Ellie said, mirroring Jesse as she too held the towel against her forehead that was dampened with a few locks of hair.

The thundering crowds noises were quickly dissipating the further your band walked into the back stage area, until you all had finally made it to the large, shared dressing room.

"God, it's fucking hot!," you exclaimed while dramatically fanning yourself as you stood in front of a table top revolving fan that was turned up to high.

"Yes, yes you are," Dina teased as she began undoing her button up shirt, joining the rest of the group that had already started undressing out of their sweaty clothes.

In a flirtatious manor, that you both knew held nothing but friendly intentions, you turned around with your hand on your hip.

"Don't tease me D."

"What if I'm not?"

Both of your coquettish expressions caved into humored ones the minute you made eye contact.

"We've already been down that route in college, no need to revisit it," you joked with a pointed finger as you began undoing your top.

"God, don't remind me. It was like fucking my sister-no offense." You nodded in agreement with Dina as you voiced your mutual feelings about the night both of you had drunkenly hooked up after a party in college.

Thankfully, It wasn't a completely bad experience. It was the reason the both of you had become friends after all. What better way to bond than after a hook up that neither of you felt a romantic connection with, yet still enjoyed the others company.

As Ellie began zipping out of her jeans, she couldn't help but listen in on yours and Dina's conversation and reminisce about that night.

You, Ellie, and an apartment that was much too small for the amount of people that were walking in through the back door.

A local college band was playing in a space that no doubt was originally a living room that had been moved around to arrange a space for the band and others to gather around them.

You held on tight to the back of Ellie's-aka your roommate who you had met just a couple days ago- shirt as you allowed her to guide you through the mass amount of bodies that were somehow fit into this space that couldn't have been more than 1,000 square feet.

As college parties go, you and Ellie ended up talking with cheap beers in hand for awhile as you watched the people around you, until you saw Dina walk in. She was clearly the life of the party, which is what caught your attention in the first place…and she wasn't bad looking either.

Ellie remembered you whispering how hot you thought the dark haired girl, who you would come to know as Dina, was. Urgently, Ellie turned her head to look at you with furrowed eyebrows that begged to ask a question.

"Are you gay?"

Present day Ellie laughed quietly in the dressing room as she recalled you saying "do I look like I'm straight?", in a way that was so deeply offended, you would've thought you had been mistaken for the worst possible human being one could imagine.

Suddenly, there was a feeling of fear and hope spun together in a braided ribbon. Because now that she knew you liked girls, that meant that her immediate attraction to you wasn’t something that she could shove off in a corner. No, now her mind would conjure up all these scenarios and universes where it was you and her tangled up in sheets as your bare skin touched her bare skin, all because it was something that was possible.

Sure, it wasn’t definite and, at that time Ellie had no idea that you had felt this immediate attraction to her as well, but now, it was easier for her to picture herself with you because it wasn’t like the crushes Ellie had on straight girls in the past. This time it was real and raw and vulnerable.

"What so funny?"

Ellie hadn't noticed you, snuck up on her as she changed with her back to the rest of the group.

Quickly she peaked over her shoulder as she continued getting undressed.

"Remember when you were offended that I didn't know you were gay?"

A warm, comforting feeling filled you as you thought back to your very first outing with Ellie.

You nodded, "Yeah! I'm still pissed about it."

Ellie chuckled, "You're dumb."

You didn't reply, merely just watched silently as one by one, Ellie's legs slipped out of the denim, leaving her in plain colored boxer briefs and an undone button down shirt while her back was still to you.

You knew better than to allow your eyes and imagination to linger too long-that was dangerous territory; a been there done that type of territory.

The group continued chatting as each of you finished changing into less dampened clothing.

"You guys going to that party tonight?"

At Jesse's words your eyebrow raised in question, until you recalled the big name popstar's birthday gathering you all had been invited to that was happening tonight. Quietly, you sighed as you finished grabbing all of your personal belongings.

"Not sure. You?"

Jesse 'pst' his lips, "Ah c'mon! You have to come. It'll be a nice way to decompress. We haven't had a night off in ages."

You couldn't disagree. It had indeed been a two week spread of shows every single night...maybe a party wouldn't hurt.

But on the other hand, you knew you dreaded any sort of social gathering that was bound to leave you overstimulated and exhausted by the end of the night.

"I don't know.."

"Babe cmon, you deserve it. I deserve it. We all deserve it! Besides, we can ditch if we're too exhausted or if it's lame or something," Dina said as she turned around, joining the rest of you and your bandmates as you all naturally gathered in the center of the changing room.

You wagered your plan of staying in the hotel in stretchy clothes with takeout in hand and a shitty movie on the tv as you snuggled into the fluffy blankets…but the looks you were getting from your bandmates pretty much prepared an answer for you.

"Fineeee," you dragged your words as Dina took the initiative of leaving as she opened the dressing room door.

"Who knows, maybe you'll get laid."

You shook your head, shoving Dina playfully on the shoulder as you followed behind her. "Shut up slut."

Ellie followed behind you, and Jesse behind her as he chuckled at the usual banter between you and Dina that continued for the entirety of the walk to the black vehicle that was ready to take your band to the party.

----

You'd been at the party for only an hour before you felt your threshold being pushed to it's farthest limit.

Dina and Jesse had been loved up on the dance floor, shouting the words of a song that was unfamiliar to you as Jesse had both of his arms around his love.

Ellie had caught your eye as she talked with other people throughout the party, always having some sort of whiskey drink in hand as she fidgeted with the small black straw she was swirling around her drink.

You knew how awful Ellie was in conversation, or rather following along with a conversation. Her thoughts always seemed to take over, making it hard for her to be fixed in on the entirety of a conversation as she, instead, resorted to zoning out or fixating herself on some sort of habit like she was right now.

With your back lent against a crisp white wall, you raised your drink to your mouth as you took a sip while still watching Ellie attempt conversation, until her eyes locked with yours.

She knew this version of you too well. The crowds, the socializing, the various amount of different noises all going on at once, none of it was ever your forte.

You quickly averted your gaze downwards into the honey colored drink in your glass, which made you oblivious to the fact that Ellie had already dismissed herself from her conversation and began making strides towards you.

"Over it already?"

Her familiar tone made your eyes glance upwards briefly before bringing them back down to your drink. You shrugged, "You know how I am at these things."

Ellie indeed knew too well. She also knew how much you resented yourself for not being able to handle a party without feeling like shit before, during, and after.

"Wanna head out? I'm kind of over this too." Ellie said as she mimicked your position of back resting against a wall with nearly empty drink in hand.

Your eyes remained low as you talked. "You don't have to leave because of me."

"I'm not," Ellie assured, "you're the one who can't do social gatherings, I'm the one whose bored of superficial small talk with people that I couldn't give less of a fuck about."

At her words, you chuckled, your neck now raising as your tipsy squinted eyes finally made contact with Ellie.

"Promise it's not because you feel sorry for me?"

Ellie's face lit up with a familiar, warm grin as she held up her pinky to swear her promise was true. "Promise."

You wore a lazy, but genuine smile as you extended your own pinky and gently hooked it around Ellie's. "Let's get the fuck out of here then."

---

The drive back to the hotel was silent except for the easy listening radio the Uber drive had been playing in the vehicle. You were thankful they were playing music that was appropriate for the 3am hour that it was. The last thing you needed was heavy bass to fuel your already slightly aching head.

Both you and Ellie made your way into the hotel once the uber had reached your home for the night. Thankfully, your manager had taken care of check in so your room key was already tucked inside the palm of your hand, leaving the only thing to do was slide your key through the appropriate suite numbers door so you could fall face first into a fluffy, white bed.

Your mind pulsed with the room number as you got closer. '208, 2010, 2011, 2012."

A literal weight seemed to fall off of your body when you mentally read the 4 digit number.

"This is me. What room did you get?"

'Fuck', Ellie thought as she did a double take on the room number that was written on her key card and the room number engraved in a gold plaque on the door you were both stopped in front of.

"Me too. Guess we’re rooming together."

Ellie didn't mean for her words to come out with a grimace expression, but you understood why the second she said it.

Annalise. You'd told her once about not wanting to room with Ellie due to your past with her and it was never a forgotten thing..I guess not until now.

It wasn't that you didn't want to hang out with Ellie. Ellie was your best friend first, ex girlfriend second. Despite the past the both of you shared, you always made it your mission to never let it interfere with one of the strongest friendships you've ever had with a person.

Not rooming together was more of a...preventative measure. You and Ellie had dated for a couple years, obviously you also slept together during that time. Keeping separate sleeping arrangements was just a way to keep certain situations less likely to happen.

Without either of you making eye contact, you slid the card in, then out of the slot in the door as a light flashed green, signaling the release of the lock.

You could feel the very dim way your hands shook as you grasped the metal knob in hand, allowing you and Ellie entry into the spacious suite that, thankfully, had two queen sized beds in it. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if the hotel somehow made a mistake and gave you a suite with a single bed; at least one thing was on yours and Ellie’s side. Though it didn’t make the situation at hand any better.

The tension was thick like a humid august day in Florida.

You and Ellie had taken to silence as you both worked on unpacking the few essentials you had on your person - thank god your team had already managed to put both yours and Ellie's luggages by each of your bedside, leaving not too much work to be done tonight unpacking wise.

Once your shoes had been tucked away in the small closet, your phone charger plugged in with your phone attached to it, and your pajama's in hand, you set off for the bathroom in the still silent hotel room.

A quick shower paired with freely brushed teeth, a clean face, and much more stretchy clothing had you feeling almost fully recovered post show and post social gathering.

As you walked out of the bathroom, you couldn't help but follow the trail of clothing that was sprawled sloppily on the floor and on top of the bed that was Ellie's for tonight.

It was like a mouse hunt as you followed along the fabric and items Ellie had no doubt shoveled out of her bag instead of putting them away neatly - typical for Ellie. She was never the cleanliest of the band members.

The humored smile remained on your face as you walked from the area in the suite that contained the beds, over to the small hallway that led to the living room area.

Ellie was sprawled along the couch with nothing but a table side lamp on as her eyes were glued to her phone while her finger moved along the screen.

Thankfully she hadn't caught wind of your entrance or else she would've seen the way you ran your eyes up from her sock clade feet all the way up to the athletic shorts and hoodie that was branded with your bands logo. She only looked up when you sunk down on the opposite side of the couch she was on.

Startled, Ellie looked up at you, looking as if she had forgotten you were even here, and for a minute she honestly did. Ellies eyes had been zoned in on the text exchange between her and her girlfriend, Cat, since the moment she flopped herself onto the couch in a living room that wasn't hers- this was somewhat of a routine she had subconsciously started doing ever since the tour began.

Your eyes naturally followed along to Ellies screen as curiosity got the best of you, but when you saw the name and photo labeled at the very top of the text exchange, you felt that same god damn feeling. That drop, that warmth, that surge of an energy that was anything but positive.

It was as if Ellie could read your mind as she followed your eye line and quickly locked her phone before setting it on the arm rest of her side of the couch.

Clearing your throat, you tried your best at creating a diversion.

"I see you're still messy as ever." Your eyes remained low as you fiddled with the hem of your sweats that sat on top of your ankle bone.

Ellie smiled, mimicking your lack of contact gaze as her vision zoned out on the grey colored couch cushion.

Her mind began to dump through memories upon memories; when you and Ellie were roommates, you were always complaining about her side of the room, which quickly morphed into the entirety of the room as the floor was filled with various clothes, personal items, etc.

You only genuinely got upset about it once- finals week, freshmen year. You were stressed, Ellie was stressed, thus ensued the first of many fights that the both of you would have over petty things.

But the both of you were grown now and surely you could have a conversation over something like that.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Ellie made the move to get up from the couch until you spoke with a waving hand.

"I'm fucking with you El. You're good," you said with a calmed smile and warm tone.

"You sure? Cause I can-"

You were nodding quickly, having to fight back a large grin and laugh at how quick Ellie was willing to get up and tidy the space. You couldn't help but interrupt her quick thoughts that you could tell were piling up a mile high in her mind.

"Ellie."

At the sound of her name, Ellie felt her thoughts fall from their whirlwind as she instead focused her attention on one thing at a time and that one thing was you.

"You're good, I promise."

It was crazy how, just at the confirmation of your words, Ellie was able to calm herself down. There weren't many people in the world who could fully put her mind at ease and allow it to stop the overthinking, but you always could. You held a sense of magic over her.

"Wanna watch a movie or something?"

Though Ellie hadn't agreed yet, the remote control was already tucked in your hand as your thumb pressed down on the appropriate buttons. As if you already knew what a routine of assisting Ellie from an anxiety come down was like, which you did.

"Yeah that sounds good." Ellie's words were straight laced as she recognized her pulse for the first time and just how rapidly it was beating.

"Do you mind if I smoke? I usually do it after shows, but since we don't room together I wasn't sure-"

"Yeah your good." You interrupted, making Ellie let out a breathy laugh as she walked over to her bag that sat on top of her bed.

"What?" You asked with confusion.

"You've interrupted me like five times already." Ellie's tone was anything but malicious which assured you that she wasn't upset with your bad habit, but that didn't make you feel any less ashamed either.

"I'm soooorry," you dragged out, the sound of rummaging in the background as Ellie grabbed her trusty tin box that contained a single pre roll and her lighter.

"You know I'm fucking with you." Ellie made her way back to the living room area as she scouted out a source for proper ventilation to ensure the smell of the potent greenery wouldn't cloud up the room or the entire floor.

Thankfully the suite was equipped with massive windows that looked as if they were from the 1920’s. Adorned with different variations of swirls and florals that made the layer of cream colored paint anything but some plain colored windowsill.

Using two of her hands, Ellie grasped the bottom of the window and pulled it upwards as far as the rusted parts would allow. As if out of some sort of rom com, Ellie took a seat on the windowsill as she flicked the lighter with her thumb until it lit a small flame.

At the noise of the lighter, you turned your attention to Ellie just as the flame caught the tip of her joint- a line of smoke streamed from the now charred stuffed rolling paper. You watched Ellie’s chest as she deeply inhaled with her eyes closed, the end of the 'j' searing red as she did so, and held the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds before releasing the breath she was purposefully holding.

Even though Ellie was used to the weed, she never failed to let out a string of coughs after a deep inhale. After her second cough, you turned your body fully around to find Ellie with her mouth tucked into the crevice of her elbow as her body tried to rid itself of the irritant in her throat.

“Water?”, you questioned, to which Ellie nodded as she continued to blow out on last cough until you were standing in front of her with your steel water bottle in hand.

The way Ellie’s mouth wrapped around the tip of the bottle made your pupils dilate as you watched her gulp down several sips of water. She muttered a “Thanks” while handing the water bottle back to you while you scolded your mind for reminiscing on exactly what Ellie’s mouth could do in certain situations.

Once her throat had been cleared enough times for the saliva in her throat to break up, she leant her back against the window frame again, relaxing as the high in her mind began to build.

“Wanna hit?”, Ellie said with hooded eyes as she looked up at your standing form.

The fact that you had to stop and ponder your answer made you cringe. You were a far off version of who you once were only a year ago. Now, you got up early in the morning and did yoga just after you made yourself a hot cup of decaf coffee because, for some god awful reason, you needed a change and that change happened to be weening yourself off of caffeine.

It was funny how well you were convincing yourself and others that you were better and striding along nicely on the path of self love and content while being by yourself. What others didn't know is that you had never felt more lonely in your life. Even after Ellie and your's breakup nearly 4 years ago, you had never felt this bottomless pit that you only had to deal with once off that stage.

Maybe thats why you felt so addicted to performing. Maybe thats why you were the only one who didn’t complain when you saw how many shoes you would be putting on this tour. It took your mind off of reality..it was your drug.

"Sure," you answered Ellie as she reached her nearly limp hand out to you with a relaxed grin on her face.

The moment the joint was held between your pointer finger & thumb, it felt instinctual, despite a year or so without the substance.

As the smoke sucked down your throat, you could already feel your head beginning to float.

"Nice, right?"

You nodded, as you passed the joint back to Ellie just before taking a sip out of your water bottle that moments ago had been pressed against Ellie's mouth. You could still taste the vague cherry chapstick flavor of her lip balm. “I haven't smoked in fucking ages."

Ellie nodded as she took another big hit that made her shoulders slump even more against the window as she delved into a state of relaxation. "This shit is the only thing that calms me down after shows now."

"Seriously?"

With a nod, Ellie's eyes scanned you as if she were searching. For what? You didn't know and neither did she, but yet she allowed her eyes to linger until she landed on your arm. "How's the tattoo healing?"

Your eyes pulled down to your arm, but not without feeling a lag in motion due to the weed in your system. The amount of at ease you felt was something you hadn't felt in years. You couldn't help but question why the fuck you stopped smoking in the first place, until you came back to that self love journey, bullshit, blah, blah, blah.

"Tattoo is good. The shading on it is soo beautiful”, you dragged along your words more than usual as you prepared for your last statement that would inevitably bring her up. "Your girl is good."

At the mention of her girlfriend, Ellie felt comfort in her smile. "Yeah, she's great”, she answered honestly.

You knew her words held double meanings-yes, Ellie's girlfriend was a great tattoo artists, but you knew her and Ellie were good for each other, at least from your view it seemed that way.

"You seeing anyone lately?"

The hairs on your arms began to raise at Ellie's question. It seemed that anytime relationships or partners, whether romantic or sexual, were brought up..it always felt awkward to you. But maybe that was because you were just being you, and Ellie was matured past the college relationship you and her shared.

Not that you weren't stuck on the relationship itself entirely. You were more so stuck on the feeling of being loved like that and loving that person in return just as much. You craved it, yet no one ever scratched that itch for you after Ellie.

"Nah..I'm good," you lied through your teeth, but Ellie saw right through your faux satisfaction.

"C'mon, it's been, what? A couples years since your last relationship?"

Ellie hadn't intentionally meant to strike that nerve when the words left her lips, yet she could tell she managed to do just that according to the look on your face.

"Fuck, 'm sorry. Didn't mean to bring that up..I forgot that your last relationship was us."

You felt the urge to spit in Ellie's face out of pure spite that was bubbling inside you even though you knew she meant zero malice with her words. Deep breaths consumed your chest as you repeated a mantra to yourself: You were the one who had the problem. Not her. You were the one who had the problem. Not her.

"Yeah...it's been awhile," You chose to ignore the subject as best you could, yet it felt so damn difficult when your last relationship was sitting right in front of you, looking beautiful as a joint hung from her lips.

Ellie breathed the smoke through her gritted teeth before snubbing the end of the joint on the brick that sat on the outside walls of the hotel just outside of the open window she was relaxed against.

"So you really don't want to see any one?"

"Can we talk about something else," you huffed out with aggravation, taking Ellie by surprise, making her eyes fill with sorrow.

"Sorry."

"Don't be...", you trailed off for a moment as you took another drink out of your water simply just to give yourself something to do that wasn't sitting in silence. "I'm just sick of people asking me about it,” you shrugged. “Sorry to get pissy with you."

Ellie nodded her head as silence built between the both of you.

The longer you both sat in silence, the higher and higher Ellie felt as her eyes began to alter her perception, her brain began to cloud her judgement, and her filter on her words grew thinner and thinner.

"Do you ever think about us?”, Ellie said with a head tilted backwards and her eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, your lips hesitated as they forgot how to move in time with your tongue. You were finding speaking to me exceptionally difficult when it was a question like that from a person who used to be your everything.

—-

Part 2 coming soon

[osiris-iii-bc]

Perfect.

I know, I know, the Cardinal!Terzo x Bishop!Necropolitus Cracoviensis pairing still seems strange to you, but shhh… don’t say anything. Just let me hold your hand and guide you to a room where Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis’ hands are moving swiftly as he sketches Cardinal Terzo's form on his paper.

Think about Bishop Necropolitus, who cannot help but admire the cardinal’s body, the way the candlelight, the only source of illumination, plays across his skin, how it highlights the veins in his arms, the sharp lines of his collarbones, then down through his contracted torso to the subtle V just above the red cloth that barely manages to cover his most precious parts. Just enough muscle to suggest strength, but not so much that he appears overly muscular, it expresses vitality even while sitting on a chair, evoking in the Bishop the image of a resting wrestler, a subject he has seen many times in ancient sculptures.

Terzo’s face is turned toward the wall on his right, giving Necropolitus his Roman profile, but he peers at him from the corner of his eye through the black locks of his hair from time to time.

“Maybe we should have had a bit of music…” the Cardinal suggests.

An amused smile almost escapes Necropolitus’ lips as he realizes how unquiet Terzo seems, and how all that immobility and silence must feel like a sweet torture to him.

“Maybe next time, yes,” the Bishop agrees. “Now, please, don’t move your head.”

Satisfied with being the one giving orders today, the Bishop focuses back on the sketch. 

You can understand how he’s entranced by the way Terzo’s muscles tense and relax as he shifts his pose, how his chest rises and falls with each breath. He can feel life coursing through his veins, that unrestrained energy, impatience for action. Terzo is clearly not made to stand still. Also, he’s probably used to being naked in front of people, proud and comfortable as someone who has forgotten the meaning of shame.

A pair of clinking goblets and a joke, a “You could pose for me,” had been all it took to convince Terzo to sit on that chair in his studio. “Yeah, why not. I could pose for you.” 

Not that he needed much persuasion to undress and be admired.

“Is the pose okay?” the Cardinal asks. “Do you want me to-”

“No.” Necropolitus looks up from his work, a split second enough for their eyes to meet. That sounds like an excuse to finally move. “You’re perfect,” he reassures between one stroke of charcoal and the next. His gaze has now fallen on the trail of hair starting from Terzo's navel and disappearing under the cloth on his lap. “Perfect,” he then repeats, this time almost whispering to himself.

Imagine they have been working together for weeks now, preparing for Terzo’s rise as the leader of the satanic church, even though the road is still a long one. But Terzo does not want to sit on that throne unprepared: he is planning a revolution. Under the dim light of candles or golden sun rays in the afternoon, Necropolitus could only focus on Terzo’s moving lips while he explained his plans, those plump lips - often painted black - dancing around his words of renovation dreams, the music he will play, the art he will bring, and how everything will be different when he takes the lead. And Necropolitus believes him -oh, Sathanas, if he does… picturing him sitting on his throne, majestic and powerful, is the image that often accompanies him in his dreams at night where he can only dream of kneeling at his feet... Maybe he should start to draw those visions.

“Is this everything you need, Necropolitus?” Terzo’s voice is smooth, but you can feel a hint of provocation in his tone.

“What do you mean?”

And now you can see Terzo, returning the artist’s lingering gaze, allows a small, knowing smile to play at the corners of his lips: Necropolitus is no exception. There is power in this, being the object of such intense desire, and he thrives in it, feeling the energy around him shift and thicken with every passing moment.

Very naive of Necropolitus to think he was the one in charge the whole time.

“This project is important. I need you to capture all of it. Every detail, every shadow, every… part.” Terzo’s smile becomes sly as he breaks his position. The light dances on his moving body.

The more Necropolitus looks at Terzo, the harder it becomes to keep his thoughts pure. His breath hitches as Terzo’s hand reaches the sheer cloth covering his nudity and, to the Bishop’s surprise, he not only changes position but stands and steps closer until he stands just inches away from him.

“I want you to take everything.”

And in a swift yet graceful movement of his hand, the cloth finally falls to the floor...

[lovinqmils]

ꜰᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴏᴍᴇ┊ avatar x human!reader

Warnings: follows avatar twow plot (aka spoils the whole thing) , sfw, mention of weapons (guns, knives etc), bullet wound, some ooc, use of y/n, female reader

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍...

you manage to get lost on your way home, you unintentionally get yourself caught in a sketchy science experiment...yikes. you wake up in a foreign land (or shall I say planet) that filled with 8-10ft tall blue...creatures?

I do not remember what happened the quaritch scene , and I can't find many helpful clips, so its probably inaccurate

I have no idea on what the houses looked like so bare w me

can also be found on wattpad: @lovinqmils

dictionary: fnawe'tu - coward┊kä - go┊nga lu fìtxan tstew - you are so brave┊dream walker - avatar ┊ mawey - be calm ┊ 'eylan - friend ┊tsahìk - spiritual leader/healer ┊ irayo - thank you ┊kea tìkin - no need to thank

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

PART 3: "DETERMINED"

after almost a month and a half, you’ve developed a strong friendship with neteyam, lo’ak and spider. your language lessons quickly increased from weekly to at least 4 times a week. every lesson you did everything but learn the language, the two hours were spent making endless jokes and creating chaos around the lab.

today, neteyam was doing some 'eldest duties', as he'd call it, so it was only you, spider and lo'ak. the exact recipe for disaster.

normally you'd agree to any sort of adventure lo'ak would suggest, but this was the first time he'd asked you to leave the lab,

"no." you lightly shook your head and folded your arms

"what'd you mean no?! you literally go outside all the time." lo'ak exclaimed, flailing his arms around

"that's not the point! I've never gone that far from the lab before and you're far from a reliable tour guide." you turn to spider, who was sat on your bed. "you agree with me right?"

"come on y/n! don't be a fnawe'tu" spider teased, lightly pushing your shoulder

"if we get caught I know you'll be in trouble," you said, looking at lo'ak, "but if your father even says a word to me, I think I'll start crying"

"yeah, yeah lets hurry and go!" lo'ak rolled his eyes, grabbed your hand and walked out the door

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

"woah.." you whispered, looking up at the scene in front of you. somehow, you, lo'ak, spider, kiri and tuk (who had blackmailed lo'ak into letting them tag along) had stumbled upon an old battlefield. you stood in shock as you examined a massive abandoned ship. it was covered in a thick layer of vegetation, meaning the battle had taken place at least 10 years ago.

lo'ak was the first to climb onto the ship, lending down his hand to pull you up, while spider and kiri stayed below to look after tuk.

"this is so cool!" lo'ak proclaimed, picking up one of the many weapons scattered across the ship floor.

you continued to walk deeper into the ship, stopping to look at every dead body you passed. you'd heard about a faraway planet on earth but you never really thought about what humans were doing on it, but after seeing so many lifeless bodies you concluded that what happened wasn't good.

"y/n! lets go look somewhere else," lo'ak called, putting down the gun he'd picked up.

"you guys go on ahead, I'll be out in a minute!" you replied,

"you sure?" lo'ak asked, a hint of worry in his voice,

"mhm, hurry and kä already!" you shouted, then you heard lo'ak jump off the ship and start walking off with the rest of the group.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

after five minutes or so, you decided that your exploring had come to an end and made your way off the ship.

"I know I told them to go ahead, but I didn't think they'd leave!" you sighed, looking around in disbelief. "if you're ever lost, just walk straight," you muttered, pushing a leaf the size of a door out of your way. you continued to walk forward, muttering to yourself, as you tried to find your friends or at this point anybody.

a loud scream pulled you from your thoughts, you hid behind a nearby tree and tried to look for the cause of the sound. it felt like your heart had stopped beating when you saw lo'ak, tuk, kiri and spider in the hands of a group of na'vi; no these weren't na'vi they had guns, which could only mean they were human.

you'd heard about humans with na'vi bodies, but seeing them in real life was terrifying.

'I'm not letting them kill my friends.' you thought, not noticing the strong feeling of determination growing in your gut. the tree you hid behind was closest to tuk, so you climbed onto a branch that was directly above the avatar that was holding her.

'my legs better not fail me now..' you positioned yourself on the branch so you'd be able to swing down and hopefully grab tuk. you picked a fruit from the tree and decided you'd smash it in the avatar's face so they'd let go of tuk.

'3..2...1!' you swung down and using all of your arm strength, smashed the fruit directly in the avatar's face successfully making them let go of the youngest sully. you grabbed up tuk by the waist and sat upright on the tree branch.

however, you had no time to rest, as countless bullets were fired at you and tuk. you tightened your grip around tuk and jumped off the tree, running away as fast as you could. once the gunfire ceased, you took cover behind a bush and tried to catch your breath.

you looked at tuk's petrified face, tears streaming down her cheeks, "hey, hey! its okay its just me," you used her thumb to wipe away her tears. "n-nyga..lu fìtsan..tstue" you tried your hardest to comfort her in a familiar language, but you both knew you weren't that advanced yet.

tuk let out a quiet giggle at your poor attempt, "I think you meant, nga lu fìtxan tstew" you chuckled sheepishly, promising to never try to speak a full sentence in na'vi again.

"stay here, if neteyam was doing his normal look-out route, assuming he is coming with your parents, they should fly past here in...around 8 minutes." you stood up and dusted yourself off, failing to notice the deep bullet wound in your bicep.

"wait! your arm-"

you cut tuk off not processing what she was trying to point out, "don't worry, I'm going back for your siblings, but do not move. your parents will be here soon"

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

you hid behind a tree trunk, looking at the scene in front of you. one of the avatars was standing in front of lo'ak, you were too far away to hear what they were saying but you could tell that the conversation didn't seem too friendly. you felt your body tense as you saw a sharp knife pointed to lo'ak's neck, you frantically looked around trying to find anything that could you help the with current situation. you picked up a nearby rock and threw it with all your might, and to your surprise, it knocked the knife straight from the avatar's hand.

however this time you weren't able to get away.

a muscular blue hand tightly grabbed your left arm and roughly pulled you towards them.

the 'leader' avatar turned to you and let out a dry chuckle, "who have we got here?" he made a signal to the avatar holding you , making them kick the back of your legs, knocking you to the ground.

"aren't you an interesting one? you look like a human yet you've got no mask.." using one hand, he gripped your face, turning it side to side as he examined it.

"quaritch! let go of her!" lo'ak shouted, tugging his hands away roughly to try and free himself.

quaritch payed no mind to lo'ak's struggle and knelt down in front of you. "now you could be a good little girl and come with us, or you might lose one of your little friends."

"why would I listen to a grown man who had to find a whole new body, because he was so insecure of his skill level." you spat. the avatar holding you dug their fingers into the wound on your right arm, causing you to cry out in agonising pain.

"nothing...nothing, you do will change the fact that you're a w-" you were cut off by a strong kick in your back forcing your face into the forest floor.

"what a shame. either way, you will be coming with me." quaritch scoffed, clutching your hair tugging your head upwards to make eye contact.

an abrupt shrill sound caught lo'ak and kiri's attention, you'd never met their parents but you could tell by the look of relief that covered their faces mean that help has finally arrived.

not even a minute later, an arrow shot through the head of the avatar holding kiri. you used the opportunity to break free from capture and run mindlessly into the wilderness of pandora.

you kept looking behind you, trying to make sure nobody was following you. suddenly, you ran straight into a tall, blue figure.

"..ow! oh, neteyam!" you took a step back, smiling cheerfully at your friend

"y/n! your bleeding," neteyam took hold of your injured arm, examining the wound.

"..." you paused letting the remaining adrenaline vanish from your body. "I've been shot." your mouth hung wide open, looking at the scarlet liquid ooze from your arm. "I'VE BEEN SHOT!? WHAT DO I DO?" you let out a petrified squeal, holding out your arm in the air.

"mawey 'eylan, mawey" neteyam hushed, "get on my ikran, I'll get you some help." neteyam lifted you onto his ikran and got on behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you secure.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

"neteyam! what took you so long?" jake asked, turning to his eldest son

"I found y/n in the forest, she was shot," neteyam demounted his ikran then gently lowered you down.

"..uh I'm sorry for the...inconvenience..sir," you grunted, trying your hardest to ignore the throbbing pain in your arm.

jake looked at you in disbelief before letting out a stressed sigh, rubbing his temples, "..it's..it's fine kid. kiri, take y/n back to the lab. and take tuk with you"

kiri scoffed, looking her father up and down. it was clear she did not want to move.

"now!" jake yelled, not wanting to deal with her antics any longer.

"follow me." kiri sighed, rolling her eyes as she walked off. "i'm not gonna walk all the way back to the lab, so I'll take you to the tsahìk"

"does the tsahìk even treat humans?" you asked hesitantly

"I'll guess we'll have to find out" kiri dismissed, taking hold of your uninjured arm pulling you along

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

you sat in front of the tsahìk letting out quiet painful groans as a healing paste was applied to your wound.

"I wouldn't normally do this for a human..but since you got hurt saving my family, I'll let you off," Mo'at mumbled

"y/n was so cool! she swung upside down like 'whoosh!' and beat up the bad guy!" tuk exclaimed, doing her best to act out the previous events

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration.." you muttered embarrassed by tuk's praise

"be careful with that arm from now on. it should heal completely in a couple of weeks," the tsahìk said, putting away her medicinal paste and bandages.

"..irayo" you thanked, standing up and preparing to leave

"kea tìkin, it's my job after all" Mo'at reassured, smiling gently at you

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

it was now the next day, you knew neteyam and lo'ak were probably grounded for life, but when they didn't show up to your 'language' lesson you couldn't help but frown.

"flo, please, please can I go out?" you begged, shaking her shoulders desperately

"the last time I let you do that you almost got yourself killed." florence reminded, her eyes not moving from her computer screen,

"you told me 'not socialising is bad for my mental health', but now you're trying to keep me from socialising! I won't do anything dangerous, please!"

florence paused for a second, before taking a deep breath and saying, "fine, but you need to be back in 2 hours."

"okay!" you chirped, skipping out of the lab doors

"I'm gonna regret that..." florence groaned,

neteyam's ears perked up upon hearing a knock on his front door. when he got up to answer it, he was surprised to see you standing there

"y/n? are you supposed to be here?"

"neteyam! hii! are your parents home?" you asked, trying to peer over his shoulder to see inside

"no my mother went out with tuk and kiri and my dad left to go over the lab 10 minutes ago," neteyam answered, still confused as to why you even knew where he lived

"great! can I come in?"

a/n: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed <3

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[e1dritchjackal0pe]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ꜱɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴇʟꜱ

Summary: After being spirited away by a violent group of criminals you struggle to confront and fight off a troubling hunger. The only thing that keeps you afloat is the hope of reuniting with your family but a horrid night in Texas may prove to be the point of no return.

Notes: 17.4k words, divider @saradika

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, blood, horror. Severen being a complete ass, as per usual. The reader is NOT having a good time. Severen doesn't know how to process his feelings.

Part II - Part III

The last few days of your life have been a fever dream. A horribly twisted one at that. It feels like a part of you has disconnected since that night you were out in the middle of the desert, gulping down blood like a wild animal while a crashed car smoked behind you. It almost hasn't felt real since then, like a piece of you floated up to the heavens with the rest of all that smoke and steam and never came back down again. You figured that the shock had yet to wear off and truthfully, you didn't know if it ever would. The idea of adjusting to the new world that you've been tossed into with an abrupt violent fanfare is morbidly laughable. Not that any of them have been particularly helpful in guiding you in your apparent new place in the world. Well, apart from Caleb. He has tried in his own way to help you come to terms with it all, giving gentle words of advice and trying to nudge you into a sort of acceptance. 

He had confessed that he was the most recently turned apart from yourself, older than you by about a year, and the admittance had startled you. He kills so easily on a nightly basis that you can't even fathom that he's still so new to it all. It has a heavy sort of weight grabbing your shoulders to know that they probably expected the same from you. Especially the leader of the group, Jesse. Who was already less than thrilled that you've dragged along with the rest of the family. A liability, a possible threat to their safety is what he saw you as. From the moment that Severen had removed you from his shoulder to usher you inside the back of the van, Jesse had been less than enthusiastic. 

"The venom got to 'er before I could. She's comin' with us." Severen had declared. His demeanor was relaxed, almost jovial while he kept you pinned in place with his hands gripping both of your forearms, forcing you to awkwardly stand in front of the open back end of the vehicle, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the bewildered and still bloodied faces of his family. Jesse had moved to peer back at the you two from the driver's seat, mean eyes squinting like he's been told a bad joke. "Hell, boy, you better be pullin' my leg." 

"As serious as a heart attack. " Severen had responded easily. 

From that point on your fate had been officially sealed, nailed shut, topped off with a bloody bow and buried six feet deep. You hadn't believed Jesse when he had told you that you'd never die. That you'd live to see the world change, watch cities rise and fall, see generations live and fade into history all while you remained ageless. Frozen in time. You would have laughed in his face if you had the balls to, but the cold glint in his eyes told you that he wasn't the one to make light of. You figured that you were right in your previous assumption that this was come sort of deranged cult, diluted into believing that they had received the gift of immortality. All for the hefty price of blood and a life. You figured he was the same as every cult leader throughout history, a sick controlling man who preyed on vulnerable, ill people and twisted them into something inhuman with the promise of heaven or eternity. And with each push of denial your mind would bring you back to that night when you had latched onto Severen's neck and drank with a drunken animalistic need. And you had made excuses in response to that. Told yourself that it was some bizarre response to the trauma. That the blood loss and concussion had driven you to act out in that strange violent way. But it felt like you were grasping at straws. Even then. 

He tore through the roof like paper. The ROOF!! Your subconscious would cry out in a violent reminder, and you'd promptly slam the hypothetical door shut on that train of thought. 

You had held from drinking for about three whole days, ignoring the foreign agonizing hunger that twisted inside your stomach like some sort of body snatching invader. The first night had obviously been the easiest, the pain was little more than a dull empty pit. Not all that much different from regular hunger pains. It had made you too confident in your assumption that it was all bullshit. That there wasn't anything wrong with you and you were still a normal person. 

During the days before your first kill you weren't allowed to go anywhere by yourself, closely monitored at all times, and they wouldn't let you go into an establishment unless they planned on killing the people inside and burning the building down afterwards. No doubt to keep you from dashing or mouthing out a silent 'help, I've been kidnapped' to the cashiers behind the gas station counters or the motel manager supplying your room for the day. And usually it was Severen, practically latched onto you like a tick on a dog's ass. The only time you got a time to yourself was to use the bathroom which he would have to investigate first to make sure that there wasn't a window for you sneak out of. It was terrifying and humiliating. He was oddly clingy for the man that had been so persistent in trying to kill you, practically looming over you like a second shadow. Even the woman with the platinum hair (her name is Diamond back you later learned - or it's her nickname, at least) had to warn him to give you space. "Lord, Severen, if you don't back off that poor girl and let her breath for jus' a minute!" 

And it was even worse when he could tell that you were hungry, perking up at the sound of your stomach growling, and you'd have to grit out a firm, "I'm not killing" through your discomfort and watch the excitement deflate from his body like a balloon. And he'd glare at you with those piercing baby blues and curse under his breath like you were the bane of his existence. It had been a push and pull with him since the first time they took you out to hunt. After spending an entire day with the seven of you huddled up inside the van with the windows blocked out with newspapers and tinfoil - an odd thing that you hadn't bothered to question - parked out in the middle of the desert just off the main road, Jesse had begun driving as soon as it was sundown. Traveling for a few hours straight, passing through town after town until he found a small building in the middle of nowhere, and you could catch glimpses of red and blue and amber neon casting through the narrow cracks between the pages plastered to the windows. 

It was Jesse who let you and Severen out from the back, Diamondback leaving from the passenger seat and the other three poured out of the bench seat from the sliding door. You didn't miss the no nonsense look he shot you as he left your field of vision to go to his wife's (?) side. Severen was the first of the two of you to leap from the back, stretching his arms above his head with an exaggerated groan before he had tried to give you his hand to help you out of the van. But you eyed it warily, still grappling with how . . . kind he was being after how he had just hunted you down with a rabid sort of tenacity. 

And although you wanted to ignore the gesture all together you couldn't help but slap it out of your way with a pointed glare, slipping out of the van as quickly as possible, leaving him to slam the doors shut on his own. You could hear Severen muttering behind you as you approached the front of the building, something along the lines of, "I didn' want ya to take it anyhow." 

One look at the establishment immediately told you that you were at a strip club. It was an old rustic building, with a wooden front designed to mimic the false front architecture of old western stores and saloons. A massive custom neon sign was hung from the front gabled roof. And big bold red letters that spelled The Naughty Cowgirl sat above the image of a half-naked woman made from strips of gold and cerulean neon, winking from underneath a cowboy hat, and tossing a lasso that encased her scantily clad body. 

Your mind was still sluggish, slow moving from the shock that had yet to leave your body, and its condition was worsened by the fact that you hadn't slept a wink since that night at the country club. Far too scared to let your eyes slip closed while you were in the back of the van, under Severen's watchful gaze. Even when he had closed his own eyes and covered them behind a pair of dark sunglasses you had the sneaking suspicion that he was still wide awake, waiting for you to make a wrong move. And to make matters worse there's been a strange sort of rumbling in the back of your head - the same one you had heard when you had drunk Severen's blood. And sometimes you swore you could actually feel it grinding in your chest, almost like a strange heartbeat. 

The lack of sleep had made you admittedly a little slow moving and thinking but even in that moment you could gather why the seven of you were standing out in front of a strip club out in the middle of nowhere, with the warm desert breeze blowing like a bad omen and the low chirping of bats could be heard above, swooping through the dark in a search for food. 

They were here for the same reason that they were at the diner. You had frozen stock still. Your feet might as well as been cemented to the dirt parking lot. And even when the others had begun to slink into the establishment you couldn't will yourself to move. You couldn't do this. Not now. Not so soon. Not with the horrors of last night still fresh like an open wound and the screaming echoing throughout the recesses of your mind in an endless loop. 

"Now this is my kinda place." Severen grins with pure sleazy intent, tossing an arm across your shoulders and pulling you close to his side with a playful shake, effectively knocking you out of your internal panic and peering at you from over the rim if his shades. "Ya ready?" 

No, you most certainly were not. But you let him lead you inside regardless, too tense to wiggle out from underneath the clutch of his arm and make a run for it. As soon as you cross the threshold you're hit with the overwhelming scent of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat and there's something else that smells damp, old and musty like an abandoned attic. It's nothing like the glamorous burlesque shows you had curiously watched with your friends, women and men dressed in diamonds and pearls. One of the first things you noticed was how lackluster and . . . depressing the atmosphere was. And empty. 

The room was dimly lit, with little burst of dull red and blue mood lighting scattered along the stage and corners of the room sometimes mixing into a bright violet, and a sleazy rock song blared out of the stereo system in a way that was way too energetic for the downright lethargic mood that permeated the air. 

From what you can see, there's only two patrons. An older gentleman at the bar snuffing a cigarette out onto an ash tray despite the fact that there's a no smoking sign posted behind the counter next to the cash register. And the other is a tired man who sits near the platform, watching the only dancer do her best to work with the minuscule audience that she's been left to entertain, doing a soft twirl around the pole and you could see body glitter sparkle across her skin. You notice the intrigued way she studies Jesse's group, most notably Severen and you suddenly wish you had the ability of telepathically communicate to warn her not to make the same mistake that you had. So, you settle for what you've got and try to discretely broadcast the worried warning on your face instead, but she's yet to look away from him even as she smoothly pulls herself up the pole in a move that surely would have your muscles giving out. And Severen catches her interest, giving her a grin and winking over his sunglasses even though he still has an arm around your shoulder. Disgusting. 

Everyone disbands around the club, spreading out across various points and you can't help but notice how calculated it all seems. Jesse approaches the bar, settling at the point that's nearest to the door while Diamondback heads to the center of the floor with Homer in tow, who immediately sets his sights on a Dolly Parton themed pinball machine nestled in the corner of the room and the couple - Caleb and Mae - take up a table in the far back just to the left of the small stage, once again in their own little world. 

You expected some sort of lead up. For them to ease into it like they had back in the diner, but you probably shouldn't have fooled yourself into thinking that you had them all figured out.

Severen's slipping away from you, walking behind the seat of the patron who faces the stage and promptly snatches up the cowboy hat on his table making sure to plop it onto the crown of his head as he walks around and enters the man's field of vision. It takes the guy a minute to realize that was indeed his hat that was stolen, looking dumbly between Severen and the empty spot next to his beer on the table a couple of times before it registers. He jumps up with an angry exclamation and goes to snatch at Severen, who leaps up onto the platform and out of his grasp with a guffawing laugh, and the woman on stage jerks back from the pole with a shocked gasp, rocking unsteadily on her stiletto heels and for a second you fear that she might actually fall over. 

"They say a cowboy ain't complete without his hat, " Severen grinned with eyes full of mischief and mirth, flicking the brim up with his fingertips. " What do you think, darlin? Does it suit me?" He turns to looks at the dancer who's still frozen from shock, looking just as awkward and as out of place as you. Her mouth simply hangs open, moving wordlessly like a fish out of water. Severen looks nothing short of disappointed at her lack of response, sighing as though she was the ultimate bore. Then the owner of the hat is trying to climb after Severen, insulting him with a colorful group of expletives, and Severen chortles at the attempt, bending over at the waist and patting his knees like he's trying to call a wayward puppy. "C'mon! C'mon now, you can do it!" He taunts, taking the hat off to dangle it in front of the man. 

And once the guy finally finds purchase on the edge of the platform and swings a leg over the top, Severen stands upright and kicks him dead center in the face with the sole of his boot, and a sickening crunch sounds out and he's crumbling to the ground with a thud that makes you cringe. 

"Hey!" A man's voice rings out from the bar, drawing everyone's attention to his place behind the counter. "I'm going to need you to up from off that stage. " He says evenly, voice firm in a way that leaves no room for mistakes. " And then you and your friends are gonna leave unless you want to walk out of here in handcuffs." His hand is already hovering over the landline just inches from the pale plastic. A threat that may have worked on a different sort of rowdy patron, but unfortunately Jesse and his group chose this place to desecrate tonight. And with a scary sort of ease Jesse removes the pistol from his front holster, brandishing it with a horrific sort of calm and cocking back the hammer in a warning of his own. Apart from his family every other person in the club - including you - goes stock still, staring at the gun like he had the weapon trained on their head personally. Which he might as well of. 

"Touch that phone there, and it'll be the last move you make," he forewarns. And as if to drive the promise in deeper, Diamondback has her knife out and Homer has his gun, absentmindedly sitting it on the glass lid of the machine while he continues to pull at the toggle, and Caleb rests his pistol out dead center on the table.  

Out of your peripheral vision you can see that Severen has begun to clumsily swing around the pole, a complete juxtaposition to the strained heavy energy that suffocates the room. "Damn, I think I missed my callin' in life!" 

Jesse lowers his gun, but the threat is still hanging heavy in the air, like a cleaver waiting to come down on everyone's throats. "Now, so's long as everyone keeps their hands to themselves and doesn't make any unnecessary moves you may come out of this alive. " Liar. What a complete fucking lie. The only way that any of these people were going to exit this building was through a body bag. "After all, we're here in celebration." 

Severen leaps down from the platform with a heavy thump just narrowly missing the man who is still curled up on the floor, clutching his nose which is now pouring red between his fingers, and he steps over the groaning body like he's a forgotten article of laundry, carelessly dropping the hat next to his head. "You can keep it, " he quips. "It didn't fit me anyway." And he's coming back over to you, swinging an arm around your shoulder like it belongs there, pulling your back against his chest. "What do you think? You gotta pick of the litter, darlin.' " 

The weight of his words had struck you deep and rattled you to your core. Sure, you knew why they were here. What it entailed. But you didn't know that they'd wait for you to be the first to make a kill. And there was that awful, otherworldly hunger creeping back up inside your gut. No where near as bad as it was the night before, but it was still there. Climbing up the edges of your mind and nestling in the pit of your stomach like a living being demanding blood, apparently triggered by something as little as the man's nosebleed. And you didn't bother acknowledging or wondering how you were able to smell the red trickling down his face in two pouring rivulets from so far away. 

And they were all watching you unblinkingly. Waiting for your move with a suffocating sense of anticipation. It had made you feel like you were drowning, getting pulled under unforgiving blood tainted waves. And then the man with the hemorrhaging nose was looking up at you from his place on the floor, just as confused and afraid as you were. They were all scared. The woman quivering unsteadily on the platform, the bartender, the old man sitting at the bar gripping a freshly lit cigarette with a shaky hand. You swear you could almost smell it. The fear. A strange tart sort of scent that you could nearly taste. Bitter and almost acidic with a pleasantly sweet edge. Like crushed cranberries or dried lemon. It was too much. Twisting with the iron and warm sugar of blood. The that was streaming between the man's fingers and dropping onto the floor. 

But even with Severen and all the others watching you with intent and perverse expectations, you didn't yield to the wild pain in your stomach. Not even when the group had begun to slice into the helpless patrons and the bartender. Even holding off against Severen when he gulped the dancer's blood into the hold of his mouth, cupping both hands around your face and tried to pry your jaw open by digging his thumbs into your cheeks to try and force-feed you. You had shoved yourself away from him, clenching your teeth shut so that he couldn't pour any of the sweet red liquid between your lips. All you could do was watch the blood bath unfold around you, while pained screams rung out over the deafening music, and their greedy eyes lit up in the dark and neon like animal eyes. 

  And they had tried to get you to feed the next night too. Dragging you inside a dingy truck stop somewhere in the middle of New Mexico for the haunting, sadistic cycle to continue. For Severen to try and get you to feed. Even going as far as to burry your face in the ragged wound torn into a semi drivers' neck, blood gushing from the jugular vein in a rich flow.  And you had felt it then too. That almost painful claw at the pit of your stomach. It was almost too much that night, almost on par with the mindless hunger you felt that night in the desert when you had drunk from Severen. But you had held yourself back then too, tearing out from under Severen's grip on the back of your neck and scrambling from the bloody floor, nearly tripping over the truck drivers' body while you clumsily fumbled down the shelves in a mindless scramble, desperate to dampen the hunger in your stomach. You ignored Severen's exasperated, "what the hell are you doin'? " That followed you down the aisle. And then there was Jesse's response, who sounded tired in his own right. "Just let her figure it out for herself. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make 'em drink." 

You had torn into random bags of food in a way that was near frantic, hands slick from blood and weak with hunger. You needed to prove to them- to yourself that all of this twisted bullshit about having to drink blood was just that: Bullshit. 

You shoved handfuls of the chips into your mouth, and it had tasted fine enough. Normal. Good even after nearly two whole days of having nothing to eat. But after getting about half of the mini bag down a heavy sense of nausea was rising up, soaking your bones like old oil, and then you were doubling over and upchucking the little bit that you had just scarfed down. "See! Now look at ya! Fucking throwin' up all over the floor like a sick dog!" Severen shouted from the end of the aisle. You wanted to snap at him. Tell him to shut and leave you alone, but your abdomen was too busy convulsing in a violent fit of dry heaving, like it was dead set on wringing every possible scrap of food from your gut. 

You had left feeling just as bad as did before you walked in. Except now you were nearly covered head to toe in blood and the makeshift bath in the truck stop bathroom had only been able to do so much. You had snagged some touristy shirt that was hanging on the rack "Land of Enchantment" it had said. You didn't feel very enchanted when you were staring up in that dirty mirror, harshly scrubbing blood from your face with water and hand soap until your skin felt raw and stung from being touched. Red smeared across your lips from when Severen had smooshed you against that lifeless man's throat. You could still feel the heat of his skin cooling on your mouth like you had never pulled away from him at all. 

The disappointment had been palpable when you had all drove away from the burning truck stop. A fire that you had contributed to. Caleb, Jesse and Diamondback had snagged a few five-gallon gas cans from inside of the store and filled them all up while Severen, Homer and Mae ransacked the shelves and freezers of the alcohol, breaking bottles and popping open cans to pour the contents all across the floor making sure douse every inch. And somewhere admits the chaos Severen had snatched your hand up, slapping a fifth of liquor into your palm and passing by you with a slap on your shoulder. "Try ta lightin' up, wouldya?" He had said. You're still not sure if the pun was intentional or not. And you had helped them pour out endless amounts of alcohol onto the floor. At that point you were just tired and desperate for the night to be done and over with, and so you had shoved bottle after bottle or wine and vodka and whiskey from their shelves, not caring if the exploding glass sliced your legs open with tiny shards. 

The others came in after you, drenching the aisles and bodies with gasoline and making sure to soak the perimeter of the building before you had all gathered around the desecrated truck stop. "Homer? Would you mind doing the honors?" Jesse had asked, and then the kid was sliding open the little paper drawer of a stolen box of matches and dragging the head of a match against the strike pasted to the side of the carboard and dropping the lit stick onto a strip of gasoline. It lit instantly and the flames ate up the liquid, burning across the asphalt and setting the building alight in an instant. 

You had all piled into the Winnebago and sped off before anything dangerous could catch fire and the building could blow up in your face. You watched the giant flames from the back window of the RV, rising high and licking up into the night air like some sort of hellish pyre. 

And you made excuses for the nausea and sickness too. Foolishly telling yourself that you had just overwhelmed your body after going a few days without eating. It was a perfectly normal thing that happened to people all the time. But what you discovered after that definitely wasn't something that happened to normal people. 

Jesse had drove for hours that night determined to put as many miles as possible between his family and that burning truck stop in the middle of nowhere. Not even when the early signs of dawn begin to saturate the edges of the horizon in pale gold and lavender. It wasn't until the sun had rose up over the low hills, just barely pushing light through the tiny slit cut into the foil and paper taped to the windshield did he pull over long enough to jostle Caleb awake from his spot next to Mae on the pull put couch so that they could switch places and he could get some shut eye, tiredly shuffling to the bed tucked in the far end of the RV where Diamondback and Homer were still sleeping. 

You had hardly been able to sleep yourself. Something that has quickly become another unwelcome regularity in your life over the past few days. You tried to. Curling up in the uncomfortable seat stationed next to the blocked off window. Shifting unsteadily throughout the night and well into noon. You tried laying your head on the table in front of you, leaning yourself up against the window and even contemplated on just crashing on the floor but Severen had beat you to the punch and passed out the questionable avocado green carpet a few minutes into the journey, sprawling out like a starfish before the sun had even risen. After an hour or two of forcefully shutting your eyes and trying to will sleep to come to you, you gave up with the effort entirely. You had briefly snooped through the cabinets and found some entertainment - if you want to call a magazine about crocheting entertainment (which to a degree in was. You never would have thought about crocheting a sweater for a dead relative's urn without it) as well as water damaged bodice ripper, depicting a breathless, swooning woman in a flowing scarlet gown being pulled into the embrace of some muscled rogue. What is he supposed to be? Some sort of pirate? They are on a ship- 

Suddenly Caleb was pulling over again. Something about 'fueling up.' Or at least that's what it had sounded like over the squealing of the RV's worn brakes. And then Severen was popping up from his place on the floor like a disoriented gopher, mumbling that he'd take care of it while he rose up from the floor, groaning like he was in pain. It wouldn't surprise you if he slept on a muscle wrong considering that he didn't even try to find a pillow or make a makeshift cushion with a jacket or towel. But then again, he seemed to have little consideration for his body and its limits. 

You watched him curiously as he riffled through the cabinets above the pullout, hardly trying to be quiet despite the fact that Mae was sleeping directly underneath, which had prompted Caleb to whisper yell at him through gritted teeth. Something that Severen had maturely responded to with giving him the bird and waving him off before pulling out a folded plaid blanket from the overhead cabinet, shaking it out to its full length. After thumbing it between his fingers in some sort of inspection he was throwing it over his body and head like some sort of protective garb. He looked like a demented road raider from some post-apocalyptic film like Mad Max. 

It admittedly took your sleep deprived brain a second to put two and two together. Realizing why he would need all the extra layers in the middle of the summer to go outside at an embarrassingly slow rate. At first you thought that all of the night traveling was a way to remain inconspicuous and to avoid law enforcement. But doubled with the obsessive need to block any and every window of every vehicle they've ever stolen you've come to the conclusion that they all seem to have some eversion to the sun itself. You've never actually seen any of them outside during the day. The night after you were kidnapped you had all parked out in the desert and slept through well until sunset and the day after that had been spent under the cover of a motel. This was the first time you'd seen any of them event attempt to step out into the light and based off of the way that Severen was slipping his hands into a pair of cowhide work gloves and securing a pair of goggles and a bandana around his face they seem to have this strange . . . phobia against it. 

After he had finished fully pulling on his layers and making sure they were firmly held in place he was totting two five-gallon gas cans, full of stolen fuel from the truck stop, swinging the door open with help from Caleb who was quick to jerk it shut once Severen had stepped out into the blinding light of the midday sun. 

It was fascinating almost, the way they did it all with an air of unsure nervousness. You could almost have enjoyed it, watching your captors stumble around a little bit of sunlight like a bunch of animals panicking around the beginnings of a wildfire. 

Once Severen was out Caleb was quick to return to his station at the driver's seat and you resumed your reading, thankful for the distraction against the syrupy exhaustion that pulled at your limbs and the dull gnawing that began to stir inside your gut. You entertained the idea of searching through the kitchen cabinets for something to eat. You're pretty sure you had spotted a box of cereal and a pack of knockoff Oreo's in the pantry during your bored little investigation around the RV. Unfortunately, your body had different plans. A slick queasy feeling spreading over your abdomen and pouring down your throat at the thought of food. And for a moment you were worried that you might actually be sick. Saliva pooling inside of your mouth, threatening to make you retch, but luckily it was gone almost as fast as it had come. 

 Severen was swinging the door open again before you knew it and the only thing keeping the light from streaming into the RV was the fact that it was noon, and the sun was hanging directly in the center of the sky. He tosses the empty cans inside, letting the containers roll across the carpet and clatter against the faux wooden wall. It has Jesse yelling something out from the bedroom and Mae groaning tiredly from the couch. 

"Try to do a nice thing an' everybody still has shit to say, " he scoffs, tossing the impromptu cloak from his body and tearing the gloves from his hands in a fussy way. He nearly fell over on his ass when the Winnebago lurched forward without any warning, shaking on his legs like a newborn deer and swearing when his boot caught on the discarded blanket while on his way to plop down on the opposing chair making the worn pleather creak in protest. Something tells you that Caleb may have done it on purpose. A little revenge for disturbing Mae. You can't help the faintest hint of a smile that quirks at the corners of your mouth, idly thumbing through the pages without really reading its contents. Apparently seeing you show even the barest hint of joy has Severen's hackles raising because you can feel his eyes boring holes in your forehead from across the table like you've personally scorned him. "What are you over there smiling about?" 

"Nothing." You respond plainly, scanning a random page with little fascination. Only a short chapter in and the love interest had the heroine spread out in his captains' quarters - so he was a pirate - which wouldn't be surprising considering the nature of the book but based on the glimpses you had into their relationship they both seemed to have an intense dislike for each other. Wonder how they got here so quickly. Perhaps you should actually read it. You've got nothing but time after all. 

"Bullshit." He scoffs. You can't help the exasperated sigh that leaves you, tucking a thumb between the pages of the book so you don't lose your place. Seriously, what was up with him this morning? Not that Severen was ever the friendliest person, even when he was pretending to be, but he seemed to be in an exceptionally irritated mood today. 

"Alright, what is your problem?" You ask, not even bothering to hide the indignation bleeding into your voice. And sure, it was stupid to try and press your captor closer to the edge that he was already sitting so dangerously close to - especially one as volatile as Severen, who's moods would seesaw erratically between feral and aggressive to a concerning unhinged and carefree enthusiasm. Truly a wild card. A ticking time bomb is more accurate. But fuck it. You're tired, starving and confused. Your nerves are shot, your brain is fried and you're miles away from your home and your loved ones, and based on your luck thus far you're probably going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere regardless of if you keep your mouth shut or not. 

And honestly that petty side of you kind of wants to get on his nerves. 

"There ain't nuthin' wrong with me, " he snaps. Like a child who's too emotionally ignorant to communicate properly. "What the hell's wrong with you?" 

"You're my problem." You spit between your teeth with your voice laced with pure venom. Your eyes meet, gazes locking together like two magnets. It almost feels like the oxygen is sucked out of the room and something heated and electric prickles at your skin. It prods at something primal in your subconscious. Some long-buried instinct that's telling you that you're in the sights of something dangerous. But you can't will yourself to look away. That crazed sort of glint is in his eyes again, pinning you down like a challenge. You can't deny the fear pinching at your chest but there's a lot of anger welling up alongside it until you don't even notice the simmering panic anymore. 

Severen tilts over the tabletop with tense shoulders until he's practically draped himself across the majority of the space between you. And you don't look away once. Not even when his stare starts to become entirely too much. 

"You see that bit of light there?" 

The question catches you entirely off guard making you freeze in your seat while your brain catches up. You follow Severen's line of vision to your right and meet the thick gray wool sheet that had been tacked over the window, straining over the drawn blinds behind it. And at the bottom of the sheet where the corner of the window seal would be is a thin strip of muted gold glowing from underneath the fabric and weakly pouring out from the edge. 

"Yeah?" 

"Touch it." 

It gives you pause for a second time in the span of few minutes. It's hauntingly silent apart from the gentle rattle and squeak of the RV as it shifts on its weight, jostling over the small groves and bumps in worn asphalt. You don't know why it takes you aback. Or why you're even stalling for that matter. It is an odd question, but it's also Severen. He says weird things all the time. "Why?" You ask lowly, almost whisper and your voice catches faintly in your throat. 

He just smirks in that obnoxious way of his, eyebrows quirking up. "Why not? It's just a little bit of sun." 

He's not wrong. But something about it feels strange. It is strange. But then again, what about Severen or this entire situation hasn't been? You lock gazes again and that challenge is still there hanging heavy in the air like a storm cloud. You move your free hand over towards the covered window, hesitating just a bit with a few scant inches between you and the light that slips out from underneath the sheet but then you're swallowing the stupid trepidation down and moving your fingers into the light. The strip is just enough to spill over your fingertips covering them in a soothing heat. Like melted butter. A fireplace on a brisk winter morning. Sparklers in the summer. It's soothing and nostalgic. There's a mocking laugh on your breath but then your skin is stinging like you've touched a hot stove. It feels like scorching grease is boiling over. You don't even have time to pull your arm away before your fingertips are smoking and tiny flames are igniting on your nails like they're birthday candles. 

You jerk away from the table with a wounded cry, dropping the book to cradle your injured arm and the chair you were sitting in topples over, muffled from the carpet. Severen stands up like he wants to comfort you. Like he wasn't the one who just told you to do it. 

"Stay away from me!" You shout, chest heaving while you back away from him towards the back of the RV. 

"What hell's goin' on over there!?" Caleb's voice rises from the driver's seat.

Severen rolls his eyes like the question was an inconvenience for him. "Keep your eyes on the road, Caleb!" He shouts over his shoulder. He steps forwards and you're lurching back on your feet. You feel caged like the walls are too tight. You don't even think when you run, just turning sharply on your heels and bolting into the compact little bathroom down the narrow hall of the RV, sliding the wooden door shut on its track and securing the flimsy lock shut in single panicked breath. Your hand is unsteady when you twist the nob on the sink to run cold water over your fingers to soothe the horrible white-hot sting that pulses across the affected area. It wasn't some small 1st degree burn- a little inflammation. The skin of your fingers was peeling, flushed and tinder with an angry red. There was no logical explanation for this. You couldn't pull out a random excuse for this. The blood drinking, the sadism, the absolute horror that you've endured these past few days could be written away as the inhuman behavior of some crazed cult. The ramblings about immortality and the fear of the sun could all just be a reflection of their disillusioned minds. But this. This you couldn't possibly find an explanation for. 

You stared down at your quivering charred fingers helplessly. You felt like you were drowning with the oxygen being squeezed from your lungs from the pressure of utter defeat. Everything feels numb around the edges and floaty like an out of body experience and you're too lost to even try to figure out where to go from here. 

A knock sounds from the other side of the door and your body tenses at the sharp noise like a startled cat. "Go away!" You shout, fully expecting to hear Severen yell back at you through the barrier but instead it's a soft feminine voice that responds. "It's just me." 

Mae? You unlock the door with slow, reluctant movements like you were waiting for whoever was on the other side of the door to suddenly fling themselves at you and dig their teeth in. The door moves back to reveal that it is indeed Mae of all people, watching you with a gentle sort of concern despite the tired bags that rest underneath her eyes. It surprises you considering that she hasn't made much of an effort previously to connect with you. She was never rude or untoward (other than the murder and blood drinking of course) against you but she never made it a priority to try and talk. And the fleeting interactions you've had thus far have been small, typically out of necessity like asking you to hand her a bottle of alcohol so that she could douse a corpse in the liquid or nudging you to make space while the rest of the family piles into whatever recently stolen vehicle you all had for the night. So, you aren't really sure why she's here. 

Her eyes scan over the wounded bits of your hand and you see some sort of understanding cross her face. "You alright?" 

 No. No you're not fucking alright. You haven't been alright since you rented that car and decided to go on a joy ride through the desert. You haven't been alright since they all decided to walk into that diner and steal you away from everything you know. Your life - your family. 

"Yeah . . . " You respond but it comes out raw and broken. "I'm alright." 

A hush falls over the both of you. Not necessarily awkward but definitely unsure. She fiddles the belt loops of her jeans and suddenly you feel bad for having a hand in waking her up. She's obviously still tired from the night before, sleep still clinging to her eyes. You don't know why but you feel the need to say something to her. Say sorry for bothering her and keeping her awake even though she's a part of the family that has violently uprooted your life and stepped all over it. 

"I'm sorr-"

"I know Severen isn't the easiest to live with, " she starts, bulldozing over whatever apology you had in store. " But he's trying in his own way-'" it takes a lot not to laugh at that. To swear or lash out and push her away from the doorway. - " I'm not gonna lie to ya and act like you don't have awful luck with him being the one to turn you and all but just know that . . . he's trying as best as he can." 

It absolutely infuriates you and the knee jerk reaction is to argue. To remind her that you didn't ask to be here and to be forcefully joined into the family, but some distant part of your subconscious tells you that you'd be wasting your breath. That it would be a lost cause met on deaf ears, so you don't bother objecting at all. 

"What does that mean? 'Turned'?" 

"That's really a question for him. Not me." 

And that tiny hope for answers was snuffed out as quickly as it had lit. Like hell you'd go to Severen of all people for answers- you'd rather be dead. And almost like she had sensed your discomfort she switched gears in the conversation and the two of you had smooshed yourselves into the tight space of the bathroom with you perched on the toilette and Mae standing inside the shower. It was there that she had revealed that she was turned in the height of the 1960's (something that you still couldn't wrap your head around) when Homer had stumbled upon her, and longing for some form of a companionship had bit into her. She thought that he was a lost kid looking for his mother. She only wanted to help. She told you that for a while she had wanted to be a model featuring in fashion magazines like Vogue back when she was a young girl on her on her father's ranch, to go and visit foreign countries and their cultures.  

And in turn you shared bits about your own life. It spilt out of you like some sort of mindless word vomit, probably because your mind was happy to take some sort of reprieve from the constant stress and gore that it had been experiencing these past few days. So, you had told her about how you grew up in a middleclass family in the suburbs of a sleepy east coast town, how you met your fiancé- ex fiancé- through one of your friends in college, and all the expensive clothes and trips to places like Paris and Milan. 

You spoke for hours up until Jesse had woken up again and was switching places with Caleb to drive the RV and he had driven well into the night just as he had previously. He didn't stop until he came across a small rest stop and you had climbed on top of the camper in a pathetic attempt to get some space. But then of course, like an unwanted shadow one of them was climbing up after you. And the faint scent of cheap cologne and tobacco carried in on the wind told you it was Caleb before he even spoke. "He's not like us," he started gently, cutting over the gentle singing of crickets and the low warm breeze. And even though he didn't bother mentioning a name it didn't take a genius to figure out who he was referring to. You don't even bother trying to hide the annoyance on your face. You had just heard this from Mae, you didn't need it from Caleb too.  "From what I've been able to gather, he didn't have much before all this. Before Jesse. . . Don't get me wrong. I'm not making excuses- he's a mean dumb sonuvabitch, but I don't think he can relate to people like us. People who had something before this." 

That gave you some pause making you look away from the wide endless dark of the desert and look to him. You admittedly never thought much about that. Wondered what all their lives were like before they became whatever it is that they are, but the sudden epiphany is startling. 

"I don't understand." You shift on your knees to properly face him, taking care not to nudge your wounded fingers on your thighs. " If you have a family, why are you still here? Why didn't you try to run?' 

"I did in the beginning. I fought like you are now, " he admitted while watching the rest of the group down below and smiling in a wistful, dopey sort of way, no doubt watching Mae who was laughing at some joke that Diamondback had uttered. But you couldn't help spot Severen who was grinning like the bastard he is and holding his arm high up in the air, dangling a comic book above his head and taunting an angry Homer who was jumping up and down in fruitless attempts to snatch it from him. He really couldn't help himself, could he? He just has to be an asshole at all times. "But I couldn't go back to them the way I am now. They wouldn't understand and I wouldn't survive. Plus, I've got Mae and she's more than enough for me." 

He had left when the headlights of some unfortunate car had peeked over the horizon, tossing a warning your way before he sat up and climbed down the ladder to join Mae down on the ground. A warning not to ignore the hunger. That you'd come to regret it. But it's what he said before that really got you. How his family wouldn't understand. It felt like a rug you didn't realize you were standing on had been pulled out from under your feet and left you sprawled out on the floor. Even if you do escape somehow and make it back to your family, would it be fair to drag them into this? To dump you . . . condition on them and just expect them to pick up the pieces and deal with it. But before you can expand on that thought the car is pulling into the gravel rest stop and a group of young men are pouring out of the vehicle. Jesse had approached them under the guise that the RV had broken down and left you stranded, and the group had been slaughtered and devoured before they could even fully grasp what was happening. But you didn't partake and eat regardless of the warning that Caleb had given you earlier. Then they had dragged their lifeless bodies inside the RV and lit it up. Jesse had found the car keys in the front pocket of one of the boys and then you were all traveling down the road again in a stolen station wagon, and he kept driving until you passed by a large sign that emerged from the dark exclaiming, 'Welcome to Texas!" And he didn't stop until came across a motel a few hours into the trip, pulling in just before the faint lavender hue of dawn peeked over the horizon. 

You were the first one out of the car this time around, slipping past Jesse when he unlocked the door and immediately heading for the bathroom. You ignored the hushed mumbling and comments that trailed after you as you swung the door shut, leaving them to figure out their sleeping spots for the day amongst themselves. You only popped your head out long enough to accept a spare pillow from Diamondback. "Don't wanna wake up with a nasty crick in your neck, " she said while passing you the cushion with a gentle smile. It was odd, the motherly energy that she often had despite carrying herself with such confidence and danger. It was almost confusing at times, the nurturing sort of approach she would take when talking to you - well everyone for that matter. If Jesse was the patriarch and leader of the group, then Diamondback was no doubt the matriarch. Often dotting on everyone despite her tough demeanor. It's something you could have appreciated if the circumstances were different, but you accept the pillow with a smile regardless. 

Then you were back to yourself, curling up in the old bathtub with questionable ring circling around the circumference of the acrylic. You tried your best not to think about it and for the first time in days you let yourself think of your family. You had been too scared to let yourself do it in front of them. The last thing you wanted to do was break down into a sobbing mess. To show them that sort of vulnerability. But now that you were finally alone you were helpless to stop the barrage of emotions. Surely the authorities have discovered what's left of the diner. The blackened charred bones sitting in the desert like the remains of some slaughtered animal. 

They must have found your rental car too. Well . . . what was left. Severen had twisted up an old shirt he had found lying discarded on the floor of the van and stuffed it into the fuel tank with a remaining strip dangling from the opening and lit it on fire. 

And now it was just like the diner, and the strip club, and probably millions of other places before it. Blackened remains in the middle of nowhere.

A heavy void burrows deep in your chest. Hopelessness. 

A few tears manage to slip free now freely pouring down your cheeks. Regardless, on if they're able to tie you to the remains of the rental car, your family must be looking for you. They had to have noticed that you're gone by now. They must have alerted the police, filled out a missing person report by now. But what if they think you're dead? A cold voice croons pitifully from the back of your mind. What if they think your dead and don't even bother looking. 

No, no that's not possible. Your parents would look for you, even Sam will. They won't just leave you- they wouldn't. 

You wipe tears from your eyes, hissing at the sting of pain that flares across the damaged nerves of your fingertips. You stare down at your hand like it's a foreign thing. Some parasite attached to your body. The skin is marred and inflamed but the damage is much less pronounced than it was before.  How could you forget. . .  You aren't really you anymore. You aren't sure what you are exactly, but you do know that it's something that burns in the sun and kills to survive. And then there was that comment that Jesse had told with you in the beginning. "Play your cards right and you won't ever die. Decades will pass and times will change, but you'll still be here lookin' just as you do now." 

Could you even return to your family now like this? Would they understand? What if your hunger got the best of you and you accidentally - 

No. You're not going to think of that. Not right now. 

And with an ironic sort of timing the sharp pain in your gut comes alive, clawing deep inside of you. The pain is so shocking that you nearly cry out. The hunger has been in a steady incline the more that you've tried to ignore it, steadily growing harsher with each day. But this is awful. A great jump from the throbbing cramps that had riddled your body. You do your best to ignore it for the next couple of hours. Starring at a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling and trying to find shapes in the water stains bleeding through the wallpaper behind the mirror and toilette. The only reprieve is when you manage to fade in and out of consciousness, just barely skimming the haze of sleep before you're ripped away by a white-hot pulse of hunger. And for a moment you honestly think that you might be dying, gasping with your head pressed against the cool acrylic and that unimaginable agony rippling through you. You aren't sure how long you stay there fading in and out of consciousness with pain blurring around the edges, but suddenly someone is shaking your shoulder and firmly calling your name before cupping your cheek with a rough hand. 

Your eyes flutter open unsteadily, strangely blurred around the edges but you focus around the fog on the dark figure that looms over you, and you realize that it's Severen. There's a pinched crease between his eyebrows and for a moment you swear you can see worry flitting across his features, but it's gone just as quickly as it was there, shaping into a tired annoyance. 

"You look about as fresh as a crack whore at sunrise." He observed, all tact and sensitivity as per usual. Then he's glancing down your fried fingers, glaring at them like they've personally wronged him somehow. "Ya know, that'd be healed already if you had fed?"

There it is. God, you can't do this with him right now. So, you curl in further, shifting over on your side as best as you can while in the tight confines of the tub and turning your back towards him. Maybe it was a childish move but you're well past trying to be mature. 

"You know your gonna die if you don' eat, right?" 

"Would that be so bad?" You reply dryly. You can hear him scoff behind you, swearing under his breath and then there's a concerning bit of silence, but you don't bother twisting around to check and see if he finally called in quits and left. 

A familiar scent wafts across the air. A warm aroma, sweet and vaguely spicy with a heady tang of iron closely chasing after it. Your mouth floods with saliva at the smell and that rampaging hunger is back tenfold, sweeping through your system with an unforgiving sting and ache. You're propping yourself up with your good hand before you can even think, blindly chasing after the smell. As soon as you turn around, shoes squeaking against the tub you see Severen with his arm raised to his mouth with his teeth sinking into the skin. A gorgeous red streams down and drops onto the pale floor from the abundant flow of it. There's that mindless urge telling you to lunge forward and take. To drink up like a glutton and welcome the inebriating warmth on your tongue. You want it and it scares you. You can feel yourself leaning forward in some sort of horrid kneejerk reaction, body running on autopilot to get to the origin of the hauntingly inebriating scent. Smoke and spice and honey that nearly has your mind going blank and hollow. You catch yourself at the last minute, gripping the rim of the tub so tightly that your knuckles ache and you're so zoned in on the blood that you don't even feel the way that your damaged nerves sing under the pressure of their grasp on the acrylic. You catch yourself last second, pulling away with a gasp like you've been jabbed. "What are you doing?" You hiss brokenly and you aren't sure if the question is for him or yourself. 

He finally removes his teeth from his arm, and you practically have to tear your eyes away from watching the blood gush from the wound. "Lettin' you drink." He replied. "It should be enough to tie you over until you grow the balls to finally hunt." 

"I'm not drinking that." 

"You liked it last time!" 

Anger - or maybe its embarrassment- prickles at your skin. You weren't in your right mind then. You were panicked and disoriented. You just had your throat torn and crashed your car in the span of a few minutes. So, you weren't exactly in your right mind. "I am not drinking that." Your tone is firm and final even though you're still eyeing the blood pouring from his arm with poorly concealed hunger, like a dog staring down a bone. And as if to spite you a wounded growl rips from your stomach accompanied by the horrid claws of hunger. You wince despite trying your best to hide it but it slips through regardless. 

Frustration is burning in those dark baby blues and his body is coiling like a snake ready to strike. Like he's contemplating on whether or not he should try and snatch you and try to force feed you again. Your own body is tensing up, ready to try and scramble up from the bath if you have to, but to your surprise he's rising up from his crouched position next to the tub and heading for the door. "I can't stand bein' here a second longer with this pity party bullshit!" He openly seethes, jerking the door open. "You two are about as entertainin' as watching paint dry." Two? Who all left? Probably the couples. They've all most likely been pretty eager to get some alone time after so many nights on the road. That means that it must be dark already. Had you really spent that much time in here? 

You think that you can hear the muffled sound of the TV playing through the wall, the muted sound of a dramatic score and the abrupt booms of artillery fire and planes flying. "You better keep an eye on her while I'm gone, Homer. -" Ah, so it was the kid then (if he's even really a kid at all) -"I mean it! If she so much as breathes wron-"

"Yeah, yeah - I got it. " Comes his annoyed response. "Go bother someone who cares." 

You're pretty sure you can hear Severen snap at him, something along the lines of 'watch your mouth you little shit.' And then a second later you hear the loud bang of a door slamming shut with no regards for the neighboring people staying in the motel. God, it's like being held captive by a teenaged girl. 

The next few moments are silent apart from the swelling climatic violins and the distressed shouting projecting from the television speakers. But then there were strained puffs of air sounding across the room like a wounded animal panting. Your hazy brain struggles to find its source and you scan the space with tired eyes, looking over from the water-stained spout of the bathtub and all the way over to the toilette that is a strange yellow hue, like old, dyed teeth. It's then that you realize that it's coming from you. You're the one lying over the rim of tub with your wounded fingers dangling over the floor, wheezing out strained labored breaths, pulling in that smoky sweet scent into the cradle of your lungs. Severen? Is he back already?

But you don't see or hear him yet. Then your gnarled fingertips brush over something damp and warm on the floor prompting you squint down at the tiles. A couple of crimson drops speckle the cold ceramic, gleaming under the fluorescents. That's right, he had bleed on the floor when he tried to feed you again. A distant part of you wants to clean it up. You could probably wad up a bit of toilette paper and wipe it up, but you make no effort to move from your position. You remain fixed to your spot, staring down at the rich red like it's an oasis in the desert after stumbling along lost without a drop to drink in days. And you suppose that it is an oasis of sorts. 

You don't even think when you smear some onto your mangled fingertips, raising your hand up to admire it in the light. Turning your shaking hand this way and that to examine the deep hue with a morbid sort of curiosity. Then a troubling urge is rising up inside of you to lick it up from your fingers like some sort of thoughtless creature. You tear away from your own hand, hastily wiping it clean on your shirt. And as if to punish you a debilitating heat wracks over your body, seizing your muscles to tightly that it forces a cry from your lungs, and you collapse against the cool tiled wall and for a moment the world spins in a nauseating way and goes mute like a wave has crashed over you and pulled you under.  

Suddenly Homer is looming in the threshold, grumbling quietly but the complaint trails off when he registers your state. "Shit, you look really bad." 

And you must look as bad as you feel because you can't think of a single time since you've known Homer that you've seen him look so worried. But you don't have the energy to come back with a sarcastic retort, preoccupied with the painful quivers that possess your body and the aching hunger endlessly piercing your gut. A pained groan slips out between your gritted teeth. "I'll go find Severen. He can't be far!" Then he's spinning on his heels and running out of the motel room, with a hasty "just hang on!" thrown behind him before the door slams shut for a second time that night. 

You feel drunk almost, except its completely devoid of the euphoria that often comes with drinking. Time slows down to a crawl, dripping through your hazy consciousness like molasses before completely vanishing all together. It's abrupt when you come to, standing outside a McDonald's from a sidewalk, staring at a pair of clueless people seated next to the window entirely lost in their conversation and laughing between bites of food. You swear you can see their veins pulsing steadily underneath the skin of their throats. 

It's overwhelming, the sudden barrage of stimulus that floods all of your senses at once. The air is damp with the scent of recent rain. The otherwise comforting smell twisting with an amalgamation of other aromas: The pungent sting of car exhaust fumes, cologne, laundry detergent, the putrid nip of garbage nestling in your nostrils so strong that you can almost taste it all. There are the near deafening sounds of cars honking and cruising down the asphalt roads, people chatting and laughing into the night despite the fact that the street that you're on is shockingly empty and somewhere in the distance the alarm of an ambulance howls down a distant part of the town in a warbled cry. 

It's all too much at once. How did you even get here? You twist around on your feet, the soles of your shoes scuffing against the damp concrete when you dazedly try to orient yourself. You don't recognize a single thing. Not a street sign or building sticks out to you. Not that you expected to. You do know that the motel is near the outskirts of the town but that doesn't tell you which direction it's in. You don't even know what time it is. How far off dawn may be. And for the first time in years, you're actually dreading the sunrise. You haven't felt this concerned about outrunning the sun in years, not since your adolescence when you used to sneak out of your house through your bedroom window and pile into strange cars with your friends to go and make appearances at wild house parties that you had no business being at. But the sort of urgency and fear that you feel now greatly eclipses whatever scolding from your mother that you used to dread. There was actual danger here. The damaged nerves in your fingers flare up again like some sort of twisted reminder of how horrible the sun can be, and it does nothing to quell your concern. 

The next few minutes are a cloudy haze as you weakly trek forward down the street in the hopes that something sticks out to you even though you know nothing will. And you keep walking aimlessly even though your brain is telling you to go find a business that's still open and ask for directions. But you keep walking with the ache in your gut pulsating painfully. Your focus is blurred around the edges, and you can see stars and spots dancing in your peripheral vision like you might faint. 

A car speeds past you, dousing everything bellow your knees with a rainwater that had collected against the edge of the sidewalk. It's enough to jolt you out of the fog that had collected in your head, parting it enough for you to take in your surrounding once more. The street is empty and lonely. Lined with the darkened windows of closed buildings. Up ahead the taillights of the car that had sprayed you with water pierce the dark before turning the corner and vanishing. But underneath one of the streetlamps is a defaced payphone with the light cascading around it like some sort of beacon. You could sob if you had the energy to, stumbling forward on weak legs until you're lifting the cold dark plastic from its cradle and raising it to your ear to welcome the sound of the dull one note dial tone. Maybe you could finally call your parents or the police. Let them know that you're still alive after all of this time. You search all of your pockets, clumsy and fraught, waiting to feel the cool alloy of a quarter against your fingers but all of your pockets come up empty and you can feel a broken sob catching in your throat. 

You knock your head up against the metal edge of the phones protective encasing, not caring how it painfully digs into your skin. You don't let go of the phone despite the defeat coursing through you, holding onto it like it's a lifeline. It's then you register the red streaks pouring down your forearm from underneath your sleeve. You drop the phone, letting it dangle from its cord still humming in that monotone drone so you can tear back your sleeve with your raw fingers. Your choke around your weak gasp as the sight of the gnarled row that disfigures your arm. Made by teeth. 

You reach up to wipe at the corner of your mouth and when your fingers come back to your scope of vision they're stained and damp with blood. 

Did you bite yourself? 

The thought nearly sends you spiraling. A heavy sob wracking through your body, competing with the painful growl that feels like its tearing your stomach. You couldn't go home. Not like this. What if you hurt them? What if killed them? 

"Are you alright?" A voice asks hesitantly, and you nearly have to do a full spin to face its owner. It's a woman, wearing a polo shirt that looks like it's a part of a work uniform and she's peering at you with large eyes, full of trepidation but also concern and she clutches the strap of her purse like it might protect her. "Do you need help?" 

You want to tell her yes, and you nearly do but something has the plea dying out in your throat. Then you smell it. Rich and warm flowing underneath her skin. Iron and sugar. It has your muscles drawing taught over your bones and your stomach seizes with a violent cramp so angry that you nearly cry out again.

You could hardly stand being near someone like this. You don't know what you'd do to her if she stepped any closer to you. You were dangerous right now. Starving and nearly mindless. You had nearly licked up Severen's blood off of your fingers like an animal. "No, no. " You shake your head and take a step back, trying to create space between you and the source of the scent. "I'm fine. Just go on with your night. I'm okay. " 

"Are you sure? Do you need some change? I think I have some in my bag." She begins ruffling through her purse not paying you any mind, but you don't stop shaking your head, even though you're contemplating on taking her offer. It wouldn't hurt right? To just reach out and take some change from her hand. Then you could call the cops and tell them that you had been kidnapped and held captive by a group of murderers. That you aren't dead. But then what? What happens after that? You can't trust yourself around anyone right now. Especially not around your parents who will no doubt be on the first flight down to Texas once the police call them and tell them that their missing daughter has turned up, bleeding and shaken.

But then the image of them lying on the floor in a pool of rich crimson flashes across your mind, lifeless eyes staring up blankly. 

"No, I'm fine. Really. " You press like it'll actually convince her. She must think that you're crazy or on some sort of substance, it surprises you that she's even trying to help at all. 

"But you're bleeding." She presses, and successfully fishes some change from the confines of her purse and she's holding it out to you like some sort of offering. And despite all of your previous reasonings you still want to reach out and take it, even if it was just to hear their voices one last time. You can smell the strange citrusy scent that you had first picked up at the strip club. And it had been on all of the other Hooker clans' victims. Tart and just a little bit sweet. Fear. She was afraid - nervous at least- and she was still trying to help you. You had hoped that the realization would sober you up and give you some sort of clarity but if anything, it has that awful hunger clawing up to the surface again, threatening to take you back under. This time the pain actually has you falling to your weakened knees, clumsily blocking your fall with the heels of your hands. 

A second later you can process her crouching down in front of you, large eyes roving over your feature with concern. And she's speaking to you, saying something but all you can focus on is the steady thrum of her heartbeat, suddenly spiking underneath her chest like a startled bird, working to carry the warm blood through her veins. You're hanging on by a thread, staring down a void that you don't think you'll have the strength to climb yourself out of and it's difficult to form a single thought around the pure terror and hunger that possesses your body. 

"Please. Please just go!" You beg through an anguished cry. 

The world fizzles out then behind blurs and muted sensations. At some point a scream pierces the dark, slices through the fuzz that fills your head like stuffing before dying out as quickly as it had started. It all filters in through indistinct fragments, unreliable and vague. You can feel your hands around an arm, tugging and dragging a heavy weight across damp asphalt and then gravel. Something warm and thick and wonderful floods you mouth like honey and you're gulping down gushing rivulets with an unrestrained greed. And there's a quiet muddled voice in the back of your head telling you to stop, but you don't want to. You keep drinking in the hot liquid like its water and you're stuck in a drought. And you can feel your hand curling around the back of her neck to sink your teeth in further. The pulse underneath your tongue is soft and distant, gradually growing weaker with each passing second and there's a waning warmth to her skin but it's gone clammy and the thrumming under the hold of your teeth skips in a broken staccato before dying out entirely.  

You regain a sense of self while you're still drinking down the last few drops that feebly drain from her throat, unable to fight the inhuman hunger and pull away even while tears begin to cloud your vision and pour freely down your face. It isn't until the flow stops completely that you're able to tear away from the body with an anguished cry, falling back against the rough gravel and frantically crawling backwards, trying to get away, frantic to make space between you and her. 

No, no, no, your mind chants like a broken record. All you do is stare ahead. You want nothing more than to look away from the body. Her body. You want to close your eyes and forget that it didn't happen. That this wasn't real. You want this to be some twisted nightmare that you'd wake up from in your apartment in New York and Sam would be there to pull you into his arms and tell you that everything was alright. That it was all just a bad dream. But she was dead. She was dead and you killed her. 

Your hands are covered in blood, your own and hers, it stains your chest, dripping down your throat and mouth and suddenly your skin is too tight, feeling like it was vacuum sealed over your bones and muscle, and trapping you inside. You try to wipe your hands clean on your jeans, but there's so much that it just starts to smear, so you foolishly try to rub them across the gravel and dirt, covering them with the damp earth. 

You stay there until the tears stop, staring numbly at the woman who just wanted to help. Sitting with your dirty bloodied hands in your lap while cricket's chirp in the background and that strange ominous grind is back, churning from somewhere in the far horizon. It's a noise that you've never exactly been able to place. It was unlike anything you've ever experienced and sometimes it was more of a feeling than a noise. But you hadn't heard it again since sometime around the night at the truck stop. It had gotten progressively hushed as time went on and by then it had died out completely, and now it was back steadily thrumming in your chest. But it did nothing to disquiet your panic or remorse. 

And you were still staring at her lifeless body, like if you watched hard enough, she might come back alive and continue living. But that doesn't happen. Instead, you rise to your feet, and despite how unsteady they are you can't deny how much stronger you feel. That awful gnawing pain is no longer slicing at your gut like some sort of wild animal trying to break free, and a quick glance at your arms and hands confirms that the burns on your fingers and the bite mark has now healed, with the latter now barely more than a thin sliver of scare tissue that would no doubt be gone too in a few minutes. But the blood was still there. And the life you took was still gone. 

You weren't sure what to do with her body. If you should leave her out for some poor soul to stumble upon. A quick glance around your surroundings told you that you had managed to find the edge of town. You had drug her to an alley between buildings to feed on her in the back lot of some sort of warehouse and a few yards up ahead was a dumpster, but you immediately shoved away that train of thought. You were not going to toss her into the garbage like some piece of trash. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of this- what you had done to her. You opted for leaving her where she was. Some unfortunate person coming into work would definitely come across her body. There's no way she wouldn't be seen. But that's for the best. At least this way she'll be found, and her family will be notified. At least that was they won't be kept all night wondering what happened to her daughter. It was a twisted way to think of it. Some form of coping probably- a way to lessen the guilt but you did it anyway. 

And when you had crouched over her body to slip her eyes closed with your thumbs you tried to swallow the painful lump forming in your throat. Whispering a profuse string of 'sorry' over and over again like it would make up for it. Like it would bring her back. Like her blood wasn't staining your hands and tainting your tongue with the left-over taste of iron and fear. 

When you stumbled out of the alleyway and onto the street you could see a scattered array of coins twinkling underneath the streetlamp like glitter. You had scooped them up in your hands, mostly quarters but there were a few pennies and even a nickel that had been dispersed across the asphalt in the midst of a struggle. You looked up at the payphone, a dusty blue from the years in the sun and defaced by permanent markers and stickers. You stand there for a moment with nothing but a gentle breeze and the distant barking of a dog to fill the silence. You told yourself that you weren't going to call them but now that you're standing here with her discarded change clutched in the palm of your hand with the guilt making it feel like it's burning into your skin you think you have to. You grip the handset so tightly that you can hear the plastic creak from the pressure and with a finger hovering over the second digit of the pad. It's a number you know by heart. You've dialed it a million times to check-in on them during the day, confirming the time for scheduled lunches and dinners and family get togethers. But now you were hesitating, even with the bloody coins held tightly in your hand with the edges of the individual pieces digging into your skin. The iron coating your mouth and the red staining you serving as a bitter reminder of the horrible act that had just taken place only a few moments ago. The struggle and the mindless animal violence. That you aren't quite . . . you anymore.  It has you hesitating with the flat monotonous dial tone blaring in your ear like a cold punctuation, highlighting the distant out of body feeling that encapsulates you, the sense of being a stranger in your own skin. 

You imagine yourself dialing the number that you've called a thousand times and you mother, or father would pick up and for a moment you wouldn't say anything - too overwhelmed to speak. And after the second "hello?" you'd finally find your voice and talk, trying to get the words out around tears and for the first time in days you'd feel happiness and relief. 

But you don't do that. 

Instead, you look down the phone book hanging from the payphone by a steel lanyard. The pages are warped and aged from being exposed to the elements but luckily when you pick it up and split it open the text is still coherent, not damaged enough to make the ink unintelligible. It feels so wrong to do this after your days of holding out hope and fighting and there's some far away part of you - perhaps the last shred of your humanity that tells you to stay put and wait for dawn to come and end all of the pain and suffering. But you ignore it all, still flipping through the pages, careful not to tear them in their fragile wet state. You think you can still remember the name of the motel. 

Blue . . . Bluebonnet Motel? 

You continue to flip idly through the book, searching for the page listing the local lodgings when two hands roughly grip you by the shoulders. You don't have time to react- to scream or lash out before you're being spun around on your feet with the slack of the lanyard pulling the telephone book from your hands and the coins go scattering across the sidewalk with sharp jingles and chimes. You lock gazes with a pair of familiar baby blue eyes, dark and stormy with a feral irritation. "Where do you think yer goin'?" But always one to shoot first and ask questions later he's stepping forward, crowding you back into the payphone with the metal digging painfully into your back. "Though you could try an' leave, huh? Tryin' to call the cops to come an' save you?" 

He's not even giving you time to explain yourself, he's just barreling into one accusation after the other, quickly working himself into a fit. It has anger boiling inside you like hot water in a covered pot, threatening to rise over and spill. He's the reason why you're even here. He's the reason why she's dead and you're standing on the curb covered in blood. With heat stinging at your cheeks and gritted teeth you shove him away from you with enough force to send him stumbling back several feet. "I'm not trying to leave!" You snarl, zeroing in on him and following after him like he had done to you. " I was trying to find the number to your shitty little motel - but you'd know that if you'd just stop and listen for once instead of throwing a tantrum like a five-year-old!" You shove him again, but it does nothing to dim the hatred and distress taking over you. And the dog from some outlying neighborhood is barking again "Besides you should be happy! You finally got what you wanted!" You throw your arms out, putting the blood that stains your skin and clothes on full display, but there isn't a shred of joy or liberation in the gesture. 

His eyes rake over your disheveled form, assessing you in a way that makes you feel like you're pinned underneath a microscope, but you refuse to look away. Even when a horrible grin is spreading across his face, wolfish and too cheery for the circumstances. It just burrows the knife in deeper but it's even worse when he eats up the distance between you and throws his arms around your shoulders in a crushing bear hug with a celebratory whoop. "Well, goddamn girl, I didn't know you had it in ya! Hell must've finally frozen over!" 

It pisses you off. It hurts to hear the utter joy that laces his words. It's a slap the face and it has you angerly tearing yourself out from underneath his arms and setting off down the street. Your memory was hazy, and unreliable at best, but you don't care. You'll take your chances on getting lost even further, anything to get away from him even if it means losing track of time and burning up into ash underneath the morning sun. But of course, the universe couldn't give you even the barest ounce of peace and you hear a set of rushed footsteps trailing after you. "Hey, where ya goin'?" 

"Away from you!" You shout without even sparing a glance over your shoulder. 

"Why? This is a cause for a celebration! " And he starts howling into the night air along with the dog who hasn't let up since your argument started. Jesus Christ, he's got to be the most oblivious, obnoxious man you've ever met. "We should go out. Paint the town red." 

The double meaning behind that last bit is obvious, and it's has you tipping even closer to the precipice that you've been dangling over as soon as you came up from her throat covered in blood. It has you twisting around to face him. "Don't say that!" You hiss with pure venom and spite. "You did this! This is your fault!" 

"And how do you figure that? Pardon me if I'm wrong but I don't remember bein' the one to tear out some poor schmuck's throat tonight and forcin' you to drink." 

A humorless laugh bubbles from your chest, meeting the wild glint of his eyes with a contemptuous disbelief. "You're the one who turned me!" 

"Yeah, well maybe I shouldn't 'ave." He sneers, showing off a glimpse of teeth. "I don't know if you've noticed sweetheart, but this hasn't exactly been a fuckin' joyride for me either." 

"Then why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?" You voice was raw and exasperated. At this point you were more exhausted than irate at this point. All of the stress and fresh emotions and trauma from the past few days and especially tonight weighing heavy on your shoulders. You don't have the energy to scream anymore and even though Severen still looks tense and charged, hackles still visibly raised but he looked like he was trying to hold himself back in a rare form of self-restraint. He rakes a hand through his hair and sucks in a lungful of air that he probably doesn't even need. "I don't know why, " he answers. It's about as unsatisfying as you expect but of course someone like Severen wouldn't have the emotional intelligence to analyze his own feelings or actions. But what disappoints you the most is that your entire life has been altered, flipped on its head and twisted inside out all based on a whim. And for the first time Severen looks just as confused as you feel, scanning the street absentmindedly before meeting your gaze. "Honest to god I don' know why I did it."  

If you had the enough of it left in you, you could have cried. Right out there in the middle of the street. But you were too worn and ragged - nerves too shot and fried to do it. So instead, you just nodded in a sort of grim acceptance. "Do the others know I've left?" 

He shakes his head, and stepping forward in a slow languorous walk like he's concerned that he might trigger you again and send you running away. But you don't move. Not even when he's so close that you can smell him. All smoke and iron and spice. "As far as I know they're all still out. But we've only got a few more hours of dark so they'll probably be headin' back soon." For a moment it's oddly quiet. Especially for sharing a space with someone as rambunctious and high energy as Severen and it's probably the most still you've ever seen him apart from when he's asleep. "I woulda found you sooner but the rain mutes scent. Made it hard track ya." If you didn't know any better, it almost sounded like some sort of half assed apology, but you wouldn't fool yourself into believing that. And frankly you aren't sure how respond to it, so you don't. 

"I'm not ready to go back. To the motel." You clarify. As much as you want to go back to the room and turn the nozzle of the bathrub on a high heat and scrub at your skin until it's raw and tender you can't bear the thought of them all looking at you. To feel the drilling weight of their eyes searing into you, judging you, celebrating your first kill. Even the thought alone is too much right now. You expect Severen to scoff at you. To laugh and tell you to quit being chicken shit, but he doesn't. "I'm sure we can find some place to lay low fer a bit." 

The walk is mostly uneventful apart from when Severen has to tear his jacket off and throw it over your shoulders to hide your blood-stained shirt from a small band of drunks who pour out of a closing bar, laughing into the night when one slips on the wet concrete and falls on his ass. They barely spare the two of you a passing glance, too busy jeering at their fallen friend but you clutch the leather around the front of your shirt regardless. It smells so much like him that it's almost overwhelming. Heavy with the smoke of cigarettes and fire and something spicy that may be cinnamon or cardamom.  

You walk for a good ten minutes or so, and if it wasn't for the McDonald's that you had passed earlier you would have absolutely no idea where you were at. It at least gives you the impression that you must be somewhere near the motel. But then you're both crossing the street and slipping through a few dirt paths that cut between houses. It's completely aimless but eventually you both stumble upon a sort of park, though it isn't much more than an old swing set and a metal slide that looks like it'd leave you with third degree burns if you slid down it on a hot day.

The badges and trinkets on Severen's jacket clink lightly when you move to sit down on one of the swings and you tuck your hands deep inside the sleeves so that you don't have to see the blood and dirt marring your fingers. He seats himself beside you and the old, rusted chains suspending his weight creek and groan in a sort of weak protest when he starts to rock himself back and forth with his heels, digging his spurs into the ground that's been worn down from years of foot traffic. And for a moment you just look around, admiring the quaint little neighborhood that surrounds you. Old houses with chipped paint and rickety chain linked fences. Some of them have grills in their yard where families and friends sit around on the porch and yard in collapsible chairs while they gossip about work and life and cook hot dogs and burgers. One has a basketball hoop sitting on the edge of the driveway and the another has a broken-down classic car parked on the side of the road near the lawn. You wondered about who lived there. If it was a vehicle that they worked for and saved up to get - a dream car, or if it was an heirloom of sorts, passed down through the family. But beyond it all was that vast desert. Miles of dust and darkness. 

"What are we exactly?" The question is sudden, and it takes you a second to process that it was your own voice who asked. He doesn't answer immediately, and you nearly think that he didn't hear you at all. You turn your head to look at him and he's squinting while staring ahead like he's thinking. "I'm not sure. Jesse never had a name for it. And I've only met one other who was like us but that was way back when." 

It strikes you with a sort of helplessness, a feeling that you've become uncomfortably familiar with these past few days. But that couldn't be right, could it? If they've all lived for as long as they have then surely one of them knows something. "Well, what about Jesse? I mean . . . Someone had to have turned him."

"Course someone turned him," Severen replies, pulling a cigarette from the front pocket of his flannel button up and setting it between his lips. "But he doesn't talk about them much. Not even tuh me." Then he's flicking a zippo lighter open and sticking the end of it in the open flame until it burns like an ember. It's wild to think that they've all just accepted this bizarre, violent way of life without any idea of knowing what they really are. If there was an end in sight or if they really were set to walk this earth for eternity until mankind wiped itself off the face of the planet or some unforeseeable cataclysm hurtled humanity into a mass extinction. And just a few hours ago you thought it was all the ravings of an ill group of killers but now here you are tacky with blood and sitting on a fucking swing set of all places next to the man who tore your life apart. And it strikes you that you know startingly little about him. "How old are you?" 

"You know it ain't polite to ask someone their age," he clicks his tongue disapprovingly but there's no real bite to it and then he's taking a deep inhale of smoke from his cigarette. "I was turned . . . - when was I turned? The fall of eighty-five, I think. That's 1885. You do the math." 

It's 1988 now. So, if you're correct that would mean that he's about . . . a hundred and three years old. You blink dumbly at the information, gaping like an idiot while you stare ahead run the math over in your head again. You can hear him giggling at your side. That stupid chortle that sounds like a weird blend of Goofy and a hyena. "Don' look a day over thirty-two, do I?" 

Then how old is Jesse? He is the first if you aren't mistaken. It takes you a second to get your head screwed on straight, laughing not because it's particularly funny but mostly because you still can't quite believe it. "Yeah. You don't look too bad for an old man." You joke which earns you a boot to the ankle. But despite the barbless jab you're still reeling. The entire night has been a rollercoaster that you've just been barely able to hold onto and if you're being honest your mind is still playing catch up with everything that's happened. But if you can pretend for even one selfish moment that the blood covering your hands isn't there then you'll take it. Even if it's for just a second. "Were you like a cowboy? Did you play poker with Billy the Kid? Rob a couple of trains?" 

"Nah, never met Kid. But I did know Sam Bass. And I only got around to robbin' one train. " The name is vague. But you can think you can remember your grandfather some time ago rambling about the outlaw one night when you were a kid. Forced to sit on the couch after you had accidentally broken one of his model planes. The old west had never particularly intrigued you, but your grandfather was a fan to say the least, ingesting hours' worth of old shows like Gunsmoke and Bonanza and owning a large collection of Zane Grey novels. You had prompted him to tell you about old outlaws and gunslingers, hoping to get back into his good graces so that you could freely roam around the house, but it had horribly backfired and instead you had spent about two hours fixed to the old scratchy cushions while he gushed about his fixation. And Sam Bass was a name that had come up. He was a train robber, if you aren't mistaken.  

"So, what did you do in your human life? Did you have a family?" You ask, playing with the patch on the edge of his jackets sleeve. 

"Shit I would've grabbed a bottle of booze if I had known that we were gonna play a game of twenty questions," he quips. 

"Please, you love talking talk about yourself," you counter. You aren't sure where your burst of confidence has come from. Sure, you've never necessarily been one to shy away from antagonizing Severen or giving him a taste of his own medicine but feels more relaxed than usual. It's more of a sort of banter than the outright insults that you two throw at each other. Even though all of your anger is still very much burning you don't have the energy or drive to let yourself be mad right now. Not after tonight. " This is the first time in a while you actually have someone who's willing to listen." 

"Plenty of people love listen' to me. I could charm the chastity belt off a nun," he grins, teeth biting into filter of his cigarette so that he doesn't lose it to the ground. And there's a smug glint in his eyes, all cocky and self-assured. But there's a mean quality to it as well peeking through the blue and pinning you in place.  I charmed you too once, it said, and it had a bitter taste scattering across your tongue. Like you need any reminders, it's how you wound up here in the first place. And as much as you'd love to blame it on the heartbreak and high emotions there is something that's regretfully charming about Severen. In a brash and troublesome sort of way. That is until he opens his mouth and speaks and then everything goes downhill from there. 

He snuffs out his cigarette on the sole of his boot before tucking it behind his ear for safekeeping. "Life wasn' all that fascinating. Both of my parents were immigrants from the Netherlands, but I was born an' raised in Texas. The second born of four kids. All brothers. I started pick pocketin' and stealin' when I was young- nothin' too serious, mostly just jewelry, food, yer usual shit. But I didn't make a career out of it until I was about fifteen or so. Not to stroke my own ego but I wasn' all that bad at it." And he's shooting you that boastful grin, all sharp around the edges and proud. "But before all that I was rustlin' cattle and stealin' horses, but it led me into join' a gang and from then on, I moved onto bigger and better things. I even had the Texas Rangers after me for a while." 

It's no wonder that he took to this life so well. If your limited knowledge on old wild west gangs had any merit, then you at least knew that the life had to be exceptionally rough. And murder of some kind usually followed. Especially if he was out robbing trains and probably banks and God knows what else. It seemed like he was practically already living the Hooker lifestyle before he was even turned. Minus the blood drinking . . . hopefully. 

'Did you use an alias or something? " You ask, lightly pushing your swing in a slight sway with the toes of your shoes. "I don't think I've ever heard of you." 

He just stares at you like he couldn't believe your audacity, eyebrows pinching, and he sets his jaw like he's offended. "Well, shit darlin' you sure know how to make a man feel good about himself. " He scoffs. " We can't all be Jesse fucking James. " And then he's patting his breast pocket for his carton of cigarettes even though he's still got one tucked between his ear. But then he's pausing with his fingers still stuck in his pocket, looking up past the houses and out towards the horizon like he hears something. And it strikes you that he can hear it too. That steady ancient thrum that's always pulsing in the back of your head. It seems louder that it did before, clearer and closer and its humming inside your chest. "We best get going." He announces, rising from the swing that squeals harshly at the sudden movement. "Before we've got the sun licking at our heels and settin' our asses on fire."  

The sun. It's the sun. You've heard about the circadian rhythm, that subconscious clock that helps to guide people through their sleep cycles.  But this was something else entirely. To be able to feel and hear a star before it even rises is insane and if it wasn't for the absolute lunacy of the past four days you wouldn't believe it. You rise from your own swing, stepping to follow after him but you find yourself a few stopping short, scanning the horizon like you might see it peeking over the edge. A hint of light. A glowing strip of lavender or gold. But there's nothing yet. Just that persistent heavy drone. 

You can feel the blood and dirt on your hands. Now dried and flaking but still staining your skin. 

"Are you comin' or what? We ain't got all night!" 

You glance one last time at the sky, still hauntingly dark and twinkling with stars and constellations before focusing back on Severen. You offer a smile at the questioning look he gives you. Deep cystaline eyes peering at you through the dark. 

"Yeah, I'm coming." 

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 14: Clean Sheets/Fresh Pajamas

Fandom: EXO

Sickie: Xiumin (flu)

Caregiver(s): EXO

Word Count: 1,916

Notes: Just me self-indulgently whumping my ult bias, no big deal

Minseok woke up to a cool, gentle hand pressed against his cheek. He peeled his eyes open to find Junmyeon kneeling next to him.

“Hey, hyung.” The hand moved to his hair. Minseok hummed, acknowledging his friend, before his eyes closed again. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad.” His voice felt like it was coming from somewhere else. It was too quiet, too hoarse and feeble to be his own. 

Junmyeon hummed at that, his hand scratching softly against Minseok’s cheek. “I know, love. But we’re here now. We’ve got you.” He gently pulled the comforter back, much to Minseok’s dismay, a small moan of distress escaping his throat. The leader frowned in sympathy, moving as fast as possible without jostling the older man too much, completely stripping the covers from his body. “I know, it’s cold out here, but we gotta get you out of this bed. Come on, we’ve got a bath ready for you.” Minseok squinted up at him, lips parting once, twice, as if he wanted to ask a question. But that question kept winking in and our of his brain. Junmyeon, ever patient, at least with his Minseokie-hyung, smiling encouragingly. “Everyone’s here, love. We’re here for you. Let us help.” He held out both hands, and Minseok accepted them. Once on his feet, despite his knees quaking like jello, Minseok seemed the slightest bit more coherent, leaning only slightly against Junmyeon as the leader led him towards the bathroom. 

Chanyeol was waiting inside, bathtub already filled with water that was gently steaming. Minseok nodded, as if having a conversation with himself, as he slowly attempted to slip his shirt off. His arms were shaking too much, and after three attempts of letting him try on his own, Junmyeon stepped in, swiftly but tenderly undoing the buttons on his pajama top and pulling it off. The leader made eye contact, waiting for a nod from Minseok before helping him slip out of his pants and guiding him towards the tub. 

Once in the tub, the warm water enveloping his aching body, Minseok’s eyes slipped closed again. Another small sound escaped him, this one of contentment, as Chanyeol’s fingers began to work through his hair. 

The rapper chuckled, the noise deep and comforting. “You sound like Tobin,” he joked. Minseok smiled at that. “I have better behavior, though.” His voice still sounded so alien to his ears. 

Chanyeol laughed again, comforted by his hyung’s joke. “There’s no doubt about that.” Minseok smirked to himself, his body melting under the rapper’s strong, careful hands. As the aching tension left his muscles, his mind began to wander down paths he couldn’t even begin to follow if he wanted to. 

Minseok was snapped back to reality when he heard the bathroom door open, footsteps crossing the tiles towards them. He knew a hand dipped into the water by the small splash and the feeling of the ripples against his ribs. That hand reached for his below the water, fingers interlacing together as said hand was brought to rest on the lip of the tub. Minseok relaxed instantly. Jongdae. 

“How is he?” the vocalist whispered. Minseok considered telling him that he could hear just fine and could answer for himself. But that thought was quickly muddled in the haze of warmth created by the fever and the bath. 

“He cracked a joke earlier, so that’s gotta count for something,” Chanyeol relayed. “But his skin’s on fire still.” His fingers were still working through Minseok’s hair, and the elder knew they had to be close to done. Either that or his sense of time was totally fucked. 

“What happened when you and Baekhyun got here earlier?” 

“He was already back in bed when we showed up. When Baek went looking for the thermometer, he found a post-it note next to the Nyquil with a time on it, so at least we knew he was medicated and not concussed. The cats were not pleased with us, though. Ron kept following his around, and Tan’s tail was doing that fast back and forth thing. I think they’re really worried about him.”

Jongdae hummed, his thumb rubbing back and forth across Minseok’s knuckles. “Damn, hyung. Even got your cats’ all wound up. You don’t do anything by halves, do you?” Minseok shook his head, and he heard both Jongdae and Chanyeol chuckle softly. 

Minseok wasn’t sure how he got out of the bath, mind once again lost on a hazy adventure, but it must’ve gone incredibly smooth given that Chanyeol and Jongdae were still having a completely normal conversation when he tuned back into the present, wrapped in a towel with clothes held in front of his face. 

“You want help getting dressed?” Chanyeol asked gently. Minseok nodded. His limbs felt a little less shaky now, but he knew better than to fully trust them right now. He was, however, much more successful at getting dressed on his own than he had been disrobing earlier. 

The clothes now on his body, though, were setting off alarm bells in his brain. 

“These aren’t mine,” Minseok mumbled, pulling at the hem of the t-shirt. 

“Yes they are. Your old ones are in the laundry, or at least they will be soon. I don’t know how productive the guys were since we’ve been with you,” Jongdae replied, smoothing his hands over Minseok’s arms. 

“But…” He pulled at the hem of the shirt again. “This is just a t-shirt.” 

“Is there a problem with that?” Jongdae was trying very hard not to laugh. Minseok shrugged. Jongdae looked to Chanyeol for an assist. 

“Would it change your mind if I told you I brought you one of my hoodies?” the taller man asked. Minseok’s eyes widened a bit as he nodded with more energy then they’d seen out of him yet. “Okay, be right back. It’s the light blue, hyung, your favorite.” Jongdae continued to rub his hands up and down Minseok’s arms as they waited. 

“How are you feeling?”

Minseok shrugged again, still playing with the hem of his shirt. “Weird. Everything feels… cloudy.” Jongdae frowned sympathetically, one hand carding through the older man’s bangs. 

Chanyeol barreled into the doorway, holding up the hoodie triumphantly. Minseok gasped excitedly, taking the soft material in his hands. Without asking, or being asked, Jongdae helped him slip the hoodie over his head. Chanyeol smiled, watching his hyung practically melt with joy at the comfort of the sweater. He held out a hand, and Minseok took it without hesitation, letting himself be led wherever Chanyeol had in mind. 

Which was back into his bedroom. Where the bed had been entirely stripped down to the mattress. Minseok blinked.

Jongin appeared at his side (how did he move so fast?) “Hyung, don’t panic! We’re washing your sheets for you!” The dancer’s grip on Minseok’s arm grounded him back to reality. 

"We couldn’t find your extra sheets, though,” Sehun admitted. “So we figured we could move you to the couch for a bit, until the laundry’s done. Or the guest room…”

“No, couch, cause he has to eat, and Minseokie-hyung doesn’t like it when we eat in bed, so I doubt he’d do it himself,” Jongin interrupted, shooting a look at Sehun. The younger man held up his arms in surrender. 

Minseok did not fully remember how he got from his bedroom to the living room. He did not remember Chanyeol catching him when his knees giving out halfway there, nor how Sehun had swooped to his other side and helped carry him to the couch. He did not remember Baekhyun hugging him before the others could stop him, the vocalist refusing to leave until Minseok was settled on the couch and wrapped under Baekhyun’s own favorite blanket. He did not remember Jongdae slipping in behind him on the couch, nor Jongin slipping him one of his favorite stuffed bears.

In fact, the next thing he was fully aware of was sitting on his couch, snuggled safe in Jongdae’s arms, buried in Chanyeol’s hoodie and Baekhyun’s blanket, Jongin’s plushie tucked next to him, Kyungsoo busy in his kitchen, the house kept in order by Junmyeon and Sehun. At the sudden realization of his members’ love physically engulfing him, Minseok felt a radiant sense of warmth that made his chest ache in a way that quieted the pains of the flu. 

“Why?” he asked quietly, almost to himself. 

“Why what, love?” Jongdae, the only one close enough to hear, threaded his fingers through Minseok’s hair, smoothing from his forehead to behind his ears. 

“Why are you all doing this?” 

Jongdae chuckled softly. “Because we love you, dummy.”

“Seriously. You take care of us all the time.” Minseok started at Junmyeon’s voice, unaware that the room had gone silent and all eyes were now turned to him. “Why wouldn’t we return the favor?”

“And your clean freak immune system is usually too strong for us to return the favor, so we have to jump on any opportunity we get,” Chanyeol added. 

“Yeah, you scared us pretty good, too, hyung,” Baekhyun added with a slight shake of his head. “Do you remember Yeollie calling you? After rehearsal?” It was Minseok’s turn to shake his head. “When the rest of us went to practice straight from the airport, and the managers brought you straight here, Chanyeol and I called to check on you during our lunch break. You passed out on us. Like, went from vertical to horizontal passed out.” 

Minseok’s brow furrowed at that. “I… what?”

“Not the time for creative word play, hyung.” Kyungsoo nudged Baekhyun’s shoulder. “You fainted, Minseokie-hyung. And these two heard it happen. So we all raced over here.” 

“Oh.” He did not remember that. He felt that he should at least remember waking up on the floor. How long ago had… Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. “I’m so sorry…”

“Please don’t apologize, hyung. Do you know how many times you’ve literally scraped me off the floor?” Jongin interrupted. 

“Or sat up with me in the bathroom after I drank too much?” Chanyeol added. 

“Or stripped our beds and forced us into the shower when we were sweaty and gross?” Kyungsoo listed. 

“Or remembered to bring the exact medicines any of us need before we’ve even told you we aren’t feeling well?”Junmyeon smiled. 

“Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jongdae cut Sehun off when he noticed Minseok’s eyes fill with tears before he covered them with his hands. The younger vocalist’s hands rubbed at his shoulders. “Hey, hey now. No tears. You’re already dehydrated.” 

Minseok’s hands fell to his sides. “Then stop being so nice to me and making me cry.”

“Okay, heard loud and clear. Everyone go back to being mean,” Junmyeon announced, hands on his hips. That earned as many chuckles as it did eye rolls. 

“Thank you.” Minseok’s voice was still foreign to his own ears, still weak and raspy, but it spoke volumes to the people around him. “All of you.” 

“Can I hug him now?” Baekhyun asked. 

“Not if I get there first!” Jongin moved fast as lightening, toppling on top of Minseok and Jongdae. Baekhyun latched on before they’d evened out from Jongin, and Chanyeol joined on top of that, despite Kyungsoo and Junmyeon both calling that they weren’t being careful at all. Even though the crush of his members piled on top of him definitely hurt his ailing body, Minseok had never felt safer, more loved, in his entire life.

[saxandviolins88]

Hey I'd love to hear more headcanons about your structies! Like their relationship with each other (I especially love your dynamic between Scrapper, Long Haul, Hook and Bonecrusher), what they like, their hobbies, best qualities or worst traits or anything you'd like to talk about!

Yes! A question about my most special guys! Live is worth living!

I have so many headcanons for them it's hard to choose what to talk about. I am, in fact, planning to make one of those relationship charts where the characters express what they think about the other-I do like them to have unique dynamics between them (I feel there's enough wiggle room for that). Maybe this month I'll have a sudden inspiration burst and finally do it lol.

So let's do best and worst traits of each one, shall we?

Scrapper

Best trait: He is genuinely a good leader. He cares about each team member and their opinion, considers their stand when making a decision that affects them all, and takes care of them all the time (even to the point of smothering, lovingly smothering ofc). He also does not in any circumstance, put himself above them - even going as far as asking them to not call him 'boss', mostly because he sees his position as leader being to guide them and help them reach their full potential.

If you asked him, he'd say something generic, like: "My best trait? Oh, people say I'm a good listener!"

Worst trait: Aside from the serial killer tendencies(that's pretty obvious), he's a fucking manipulator and he doesn't feel sorry about it. The Constructicons as a whole are REALLY insular, (us vs them type of thing), this isn't different with Scrapper, but instead of isolating himself, he uses other people as tools to get them further. Aside from that he can be pretty aloof, even with his gestalt, something he thinks only he should carry all of the team's burdens, which, in turn, makes him grow detached. (But Long Haul snaps him back more often than not.)

If you asked him, he'd say his worst trait is caring too much, not humble brag, he genuinely thinks that (little freak).

Long Haul

Best trait: He's the only person in this gestalt with common sense, I'm not joking. He is down-to-earth and no-bullshit which makes him a perfect second to Scrapper's more unorthodox leadership style PLUS he's the only person who is willing to put Hook in his place.

If you asked him, he's say something like: "I'm the only normal mech in this function, not necessarily a good trait, but have you seen the others?!"

Worst trait: His stoicism sometimes turns into cynicism. He works in a career he hates and doesn't see an escape from it, so the bad vibes more often than not get to him. Of course, he combats this with that sweet apathy, "Oh, it doesn't matter what I want, at least the team is functioning".

If you asked him he'd say his worst trait is that his too damn independent.

Hook (<3)

Best trait: He is good at his job, like REALLY good. Mostly because if he takes on a task or an area of study, he'll not rest until he's the best at it and there is no more room for improvement (for a perfectionist like him? There is ALWAYS room for improvement.) So aside from also being a handsome fella, he's also extremely smart.

If you asked him he'd give you a comprehensible list of all of his traits, in no particular order, they're all his best.

Worst trait: Aside from being a perfectionist and the biggest enemy of deadlines; his ego knows no bounds, he NEEDS to have the last say in everything, he's never wrong no matter what, and he'll bring this hyper-logical approach to any discussion or problem even emotional ones (since his emotional intelligence is... extremely low, don't tell him I said that!)

If you asked him... I think you can guess what he'd do.

Bonecrusher

Good trait: He's an ace at most things(demolitions, fighting, etc...), but unlike his BFF he isn't a braggart. Though I would argue his best trait is that he is fiercely loyal, he hates being talked down to or controlled, but Scrapper earned his respect, so he does anything he says without question.

If you asked him he'd say his focus and discipline are his best traits. (with a small smirk after, because this mofo is LYING.)

Worst trait: He's overprotective. If you mess with his gestalt, consider yourself dead. He really does think only he can fend for his gestalt and take their pains for himself; sometimes he escalates the situation so badly he may even admit he fucked up.

If you asked him, he'd say that sometimes he lets his emotions get the better of him. (Visualize Hook, sneering at him while he says that (because he's SO much better/s))

Scavenger

Good trait: He has the highest emotional intelligence of the team; more often than not serving as the voice of reason between them (not that he is heard by the other 4). Being the oldest also makes him the wisest among the Constructicons (and the faction in general TBH), so I'd think he can see the problems between them from a mile away.

If you asked him, he'd say there's nothing that noteworthy about him.

Worst trait: The constant need for approval(duh!). The older he gets the more his body breaks down, and the less he can work, and since most of his self-worth comes from his usefulness, you can already picture how it affects his mental health.

If you asked him, he'd pass the question.

Mixmaster

Good trait: The most resourceful Constructicon. If being a genius chemist is not enough he can make any type of material or alternative from basically nothing; he also thinks outside the box, which makes him able to solve complex problems in record time using the least amount of resources.

If you asked him, he'd say his best trait is his sense of humor. (NOT TRUE BTW.)

Worst trait: He's the most annoying guy you'll ever meet in your life, like no exaggeration, he simply loves getting on people's nerves (Hook has been his main victim for millions of years, but he isn't picky.)

If you asked him he'd say something like: "Yeah, people say I'm loony, but I do-do-don't see it."

.

Oof long post! If anyone has any specific headcanon questions I am always happy to answer in excruciating detail. <- insane

(Sorry for any typos, feel free to beat me up if you find any)

[elevant39]

It´s a wizard and fairy kinda thing

So... I decided to drop another post here... I am so sorry it´s so long... This time about the connection between Wizard 1 and Pixy. (I will refer to Wiz 1 as Lucan for the rest of the post) Mostly because for how little we get, the implications do have a pretty big impact on Pixy as a character (his motives to join AWWNB specificaly). At least that is what I believe. So once again I am need to reference the perfect guide: https://www.skywardfm.com/aczpg-ace-pilot-profiles Now let´s get started. Connection between Pixy and Lucan Thanks to the Perfect guide we can get a really important clue about Pixy and Lucan right from the start. And that is that they are a long time acquaintances. This on it´s own gives us a verry important info about Pixy´s idiology. Pixy most likely had anarchist views before the start of the game. We just never heard about them before Directus because well... Up until that point Pixy didn´t really have a problem fighting in Belkan war. It´s only after he is kinda forced to be part of the counter attack (aka he is on the offensive side) he starts to talk about some of his views. Mission 7 and 8: "Nuclear inspection”, huh? What a joke…"; "Hey Cipher, you hear me? Just look at the view. There’s not much difference between those countries from up here." This does kinda beg the question about how they know each other: Are they long time acquaintances because Pixy always had anarchistic views? Or are they long time acquaintances because Lucan was the one who introduced Pixy to these views? Unfortunately we can only guess because this is all we get from their past. That being said it´s obviose that Pixy does trust Lucan, now I personaly can´t say how mutual this is with Lucan acting like a cult leader and all that. But concidering that Lucan is the only person who calls him by his 1st name in the middle of combat (a furrball no less). And this is the only time something like this happeneds in the game. I honestly wouldn´t be suprised if it was mutual (not to mention with the whole Larry thing it almost feels like Pixy is getting some special treatment from Lucan). However another factor in this is that Pixy is a Belkan war orphan who grew up in a foreign orphanage. Who after leaving became a merc pilot. Meaning that Pixy most likely doesn't have a secondary education, and might not even have primary one depending on how much access to education the orphanage he lived in provided. To tie it back, it makes sence that Pixy would probably trusts Lucan with some of his more philosophical ideas, since Lucan is described as "A deep thinker and has philosophical thoughts. Often pulls quotes relating to philosophy from books and poems." And that is not mentioning that there is 10 years between them. This leads to another conclusion. Lucan is clearly the one who has more intellectual influence in this dynamic. We can actually see this influence if we look at how Pixy talks before Stage of Apocalipse and later in Avalon. Before he is more straight forward with Cipher and PJ. While in Avalon he starts to use more metaphor and more symbolic language (like Lucan). Notebly Lucan and Pixy are the only members that talk about how they will cause a lot of destruction to create the new world. Lucan with his whole "new creation of destruction" and Pixy with his "reset to Zero". Gault 1 mostly talks about his problem how politicians are the one in control and how they never had to go through what they did, Sorcerer 1 is mostly concerned about how borders will create new conflicts in future and how getting rid of them will libare them..

Another interesting connection is that both Pixy and Lucan are the only enemy aces that will use obvious technological advantages against the player in Zero (when I say this I mean something only Belkan magic can explain). Lucan with his Black Widow YF-23 (which somehow has the power to be invisible?) and Pixy with Morgan (I don´t even want to get into to levels of Belkan witchcraft needed for that ECM system).

Now am I saying that Pixy was brainwashed into joining AWWNB? I am honestly not sure, but I would have to say no. Mostly because I think that Pixy is not a case of brainwashing but a case of slow radicalization and how his few connections and world around him as well as his past shaped him into thinking that lauching V2 was a good and moral idea (from his point of view). But that is only how I see it. With all of this out of the way I will focuse on their 2 conversations and what they mean. In game interractions 1) Mayhem Wizard 1: Wizard 1 here, the enemy has broken formation, take them out. Larry, can you read me? Pixy: Looks like you’ve still got the touch. Wizard 1: It’s happening just as you thought, it’s about time we got out of this dead-end job. Pixy: Not just yet. So this one tells us that they know each other but there is something more important. Lucan already gave Pixy an invatation before this mission to join AWWNB and Pixy is considering it. And not turning it down. Meaning that he was probably thinking about joining AWWNB before Hoffnung. That being said just look how casualy this is said in the middle of a giant furball. Implying that they might be more in contact that we think and this is not the 1st time Lucan is suggesting this to Pixy. Also notice that it almost feels like Lucan is trying to push Pixy to accept his offer. Another interesting fact is that after this conversation Pixy´s and PJ´s talks about fighting for peace takes place. If you do keep in mind that Pixy is thinking about joining AWWNB the convo creats another dimension to it. Mostly that PJ is kinda accidentally acting like an intrusive thought to Pixy, basically telling him all the reason why Pixy should join AWWNB while Pixy is trying to grownd himself with every exuse he has. 2) Stage of Apocalypse Wizard 1: Larry, can you read me? Your fairy godmother’s here, Cinderella. Pixy: How could you after what just happened? Wizard 1: [laughs] Today is your lucky day, Larry, just like your birthday. Pixy: And you’re here to pull me off in a magical carriage, huh? to hell, I suppose…

So this dialogue is important because when exactly it takes place. It mostly happeneds right after the 7 nukes are set of, but more importantly it´s also probably happened in the moment that Pixy is most likely in the worst possible psychological state he can be (with Hoffnung before and all that). And right at that moment Lucan just appears out of nowhere and (at least how I read this) starts to reassure Pixy that everything will be alright now that his fairy godmother is there to make things right and pull him of on that carried to that beautiful ball in that fairytale castel that is Avalon. Just like Fairy Godmother did with Cinderella. In her darkest hour she just appeared and helps her and reassures her that everything will be right now that she is here. This is where I once again do need to get into more of a interpretation territory, from what I can come up there could be 3 explanation why Lucan appears at this moment: 1) Pixy already contacted Lucan that he would be joining Meaning Lucan was there to ensure that Pixy would be able to not only join but also to leave to AWWNB,it's just that 7 nukes worked in his favor. 2) Pixy still hasn´t decided yet and so Lucan wanted to give him one last chance to choose and it was an acident that he just so happened to arrive at the perfect moment when Pixy would be most likely to join him. 3) Lucan already somehow (most likely his connection to Gault 1) knew what will happened and just wanted to make sure that Pixy would be in a state where he will not refuse his offer to join AWWNB. Unfortunately this really is up to how you see it. It could be one of them, or a combination of all of the, or it could have been something completely different. I personally fall into a mix of 1 and 2. But this is most likely because of my own personal reading here. That being said every outcome ends the same. Pixy does accept "help" from Lucan and joins him and his organisation. Bonus mission 16: In Wizard squadron fight (knight route), Lucan does mention with his line Pixy, implying that they did talk to each other. "It's just as he said. He flies with aggression." Interesting thing is that only Lucan said this implying that Pixy might have out of the 4 squadron leaders only talk to him about Cipher. With this I believe I already said everything I could from the text it self. However I would still like to talk about some other interesting parallels between Pixie and Lucan that I found.

Parallels of this relationship Morgan and Merlin It´s interesting that Pixy and Lucan seem to mirror the student/mentor aspect of this relationship. Not only is Pixy parallel to Morgan, but Lucan does share some similarities of Merlin too, with his Nick Name “the Blue Magician”. Combine "Often pulls quotes relating to philosophy from books and poems." As well as the fact that you know he literally has Belkan witchcraft on his side (I still have no idea how you can even explain the invisible jets). Cinderella and Fairy godmother I already mentioned this connection in my dialogue 2. I just wanted to mentio it here. That being said this again goes back into the idea that Lucan is the one who holds more authority in this dynamic. Like a guardian over their and ward (at least at that moment). ACE Combat 3 spoiler START Rena and Dision So for those who haven´t playid it. I will be droping some important spoilers here so... yeah.... It´s interesting that they do seem to hold similar position in their organization respectfully. Both Dision and Lucan are leaders (well in Lucan´s case we can only believe that he is, but even then HE is the one who actually has connection to all the interview pilots so make of that what you will). That want destruction of the world Dision for his revenge and Lucan...honestly I do personally believe that he really is just that zealot and believes that is will create a new better world. And Rena with Pixy being the pilots of Super Planes (Rena being the one in charge of Night Raven while Pixy is the last plan of AWWNB with Morgan). The more interesting parallel is also that both Rena and Pixy are recruited and how.

Rena was groomed (and later even brainwashed) to join Ouroboros and be the pilot of Night Raven. Simular thing could be said for Pixy that he was slowly radicalise by war and probably Lucan to join AWWNB and was later choosen to be the Pilot of Morgan. And this is all I could find since I unfortunately have´t played AC3 fully (this is all that I could find from essays and wiki) ACE Combat 3 spoiler END

Ok so another thing my sleep deprived brain forgot to say is that there is also another parallels in how they are after Avalon and their interviews. After Avalon They are both the only members that still try to somehow continue in the ideology of AWWNB. Gault 1 is death, Espada 2 only was there because of Espada 1 and Sorcerer 1 gave up and lives a normal life (as normal as being watch by Osea can allow). On the other hand Lucan continues in his ideas same as before. Even trying to recreate AWWNB and even trying to assassinate the President of Osea. But was later lock up and turned kinda insane. Kinda going deeper into the dark both metaphorically and literally.

While Pixy thanks to seeing ground Zero and help from people (and probably the fact that he no longer is in contact with Lucan) is able to reflect and learn from all of this. He realizes that V2 wasn't the solution and that to fully understand the situation he needs to learn more about why borders exist and why people creat them. He in a sence returns to light (like there is a literal shot where beams of light are shining on him his last speech)

So yeah I somehow forgot the one thing that make me create this post..... sorry about that....

This is really the end (I hope this time), I hope that you all liked reading this brainrot of mine. So yeah... thanks for reading all of this and sorry for how long this was... and how I forgot to put the last part here Have a nice day

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 40

Chapter 39 || Index || Chapter 41

Fireheart waited nervously outside of the leader’s den as he watched the full moon begin to rise over the treetops. It was the first Gathering since he had been made deputy - the first Gathering since Tigerclaw’s betrayal. Already he knew that the disappearance of Thunderclan’s greatest warrior would be a major topic of contention. So would Bluestar in her current state, he thought with a worried glance towards the lichen curtain. Yellowfang was inside, examining the silver leader.

Almost as though he’d willed it, the dark gray healer emerged from the curtain as he watched. He leaped to his feet, ears perked hopefully, but his heart fell as he took in Yellowfang’s demeanor. “I’m sorry, Fireheart. Even if some cat dragged her all the way there, it’s not safe for her to be out in the chill of a leafbare night. You’ll have to go on your own.”

Every muscle inside him tensed at the thought of standing in front of all the Clans by himself. “Are- are you sure? I mean, maybe I could guide her-” The scowl on her face said enough, and Fireheart quickly abandoned the idea. “It’s just - I don’t know what to do!”

“You’ve never been to a Gathering before?” Yellowfang retorted dryly, even as she sat down in front of him. “You go up on the Great Rock, you announce Thunderclan’s news when it’s your turn. Do a little bit of posturing with Crookedstar and Nightstar, and you’re done.”

“Yes, I- That’s not what I meant!” Fireheart sighed exasperatedly at the grumpy healer. Surely she understood why he was afraid? “The other Clans, they’ll ask questions about why Bluestar’s not there, and I don’t have a good answer! What if they think we’re weak now that we’ve lost our greatest fighter and attack us? We just drove off Brokentail’s rogues; we can’t afford to get into a war right now!”

Yellowfang watched him worry with half-lidded copper eyes. “Just tell them the same thing we told the Clan - that she’s sick and not yet well enough to travel tonight. As for the rest, trust in your warriors. If the other Clans try anything, I’m sure Thunderclan would be happy to put them in their place.” She huffed softly at him, standing up and brushing against his coat. “Make sure to announce your sister’s kits as well. Bluestar didn’t do that during the last Gathering, and five potential new warriors are enough to make any Clan think twice.”

“I- Okay.” He took a deep breath in and out. The old molly’s words were as wise as ever, even if layered in her usual dry wit. “Thank you, Yellowfang.”

She flicked her tail in acknowledgement as she trotted towards her den, leaving Fireheart to ascend the Highrock alone. He saw eyes glimmering at him from around camp - judging him, he was sure, for taking the leader’s place. He glanced down for a moment, before quickly pulling his head back. The Highrock was dizzyingly tall from up here - much too tall for him to dare ponder leaping down from. He tried to steady himself by looking up towards the foliage covering camp. Up here, on the giant rock that overlooked camp, it seemed to be only a short jump away from him. 

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!” He called out, watching as shadows darted out from all around the edges of camp to assemble beneath him. It was powerful to watch - he could only imagine how Bluestar had felt, the first time she came up onto the Highrock.

“As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, I’m not Bluestar.” No one laughed at his poor attempt at a joke, and he couldn’t tell if any whiskers had twitched even weakly at him. “Unfortunately, she hasn’t recovered enough from her illness to attend the Gathering tonight. I will be going in her stead.”

There was a great deal of grumbling over his words, but no cat dared to challenge him directly. “I will address the Clans with what happened. Until then, all that should be said is that Bluestar is ill and that I will answer everything when I speak. Is that clear?”

There was a little more grumbling, but it seemed that most cats had expected this. “Who’s going?” He heard a cat call - Cinderspark, he realized, picking her out of the crowd next to Snowkit.

He gulped, realizing he’d forgotten to think about who should go. He had been so busy fretting over Bluestar… “Well, uh, Yellowfang and Dewpaw will go, of course. And any elders and queens that want to come are welcome to do so.” As long as they could keep their mouths shut, he thought with a glance towards Patchpelt, who was scowling bitterly at him. 

He stared down at the warriors and apprentices, trying to remember who had remained behind in camp with him during the last Gathering. He also didn’t want cats there that might contradict him, or start a fight. “Er, Tinyfrost, Lionheart, Dappleshine, Peppermask…” All warriors that he trusted and was sure would follow his orders, but he needed to bring some apprentices as well - they wouldn’t take kindly to being left behind. “Uhm, Mistspring, Willowbranch, Brightpaw, and Cherrypaw. Oh, and Whitestorm will be in charge of camp while we’re gone.”

The crowd disbanded with disgruntled murmurs, but thankfully there were no protests over who he had chosen to go. He turned and quickly dismounted the Highrock, thankful to find himself on solid ground once more. Whitestorm gave him a courteous nod as he padded past the young deputy to sit by Bluestar’s den, patiently guarding the vulnerable leader inside. The cats he had called assembled by the camp entrance, watching him as he made his way over.

Fireheart led the patrol out of camp, trying not to let his anxieties show to the cats behind him. The Highrock had already seemed astronomical in size, and now he had to climb the Great Rock, which was even bigger - how was he supposed to look down on the whole Gathering and speak? He wasn’t afraid of heights - at least, he didn’t think he was - but the mere thought of standing next to the great leaders of the other Clans sent a bolt of fear through his heart. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t-

“Hey, Fireheart.” He turned to see Peppermask had padded up beside him as the patrol entered the forest. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it? The way the moonlight hits the branches and turns them silver… Leafbare might be miserable, but I think there’s a majesty in these silent nights.”

He tilted his head at her, baffled as to why she was bringing up such mundane matters. Still, as he glanced up at the trees as they traveled past, he had to admit she was right: the stark branches silhouetted against the stars, the way that the moon highlighted them against the night; at any other time, he would sit and admire the beauty of it all. “It is quite pretty.” He admitted slowly, turning to look back at the patrol behind him, but she gently slapped him with her tail and forced him to keep his eyes forward. “What? Do you need something?”

“You’re panicking.” She mewed, quietly enough that only he could hear. “Don’t focus on them. Focus on yourself, and what’s around you.”

He winced guiltily, knowing all too well she was right. “Is it that obvious?”

Her whiskers twitched as she gazed at him with her soothing green eyes. “The cats that don’t know you as well probably can’t tell. They don’t know what to look for. But I figured I’d stop you before your fear-scent overwhelmed us all…” She nudged him as they ran, a teasing grin lighting up her muzzle. “You can do this, Fireheart. You fought Tigerclaw and won; this is nothing compared to that.”

As much as he wanted to believe her, they both knew it wasn’t as simple as that. “At least with Tigerclaw, it was decided in moments. This is different. What if I mess up? I’m going to be speaking for the whole Clan, and I-”

“It’s a lot of responsibility, yes.” She interrupted him before he could spill all his worries out into the cold air. “But one bad Gathering isn’t going to change everything. It’s a lot of posturing, but that’s all it is; posturing. Our Clan is weak now, yes, but so are the others thanks to leafbare. They won’t want to risk their own Clans attacking right now, either. As long as you don’t make dirt out of them, I doubt you’ll be starting any wars tonight.”

The gray tabby was right, as she always was. He took a deep breath in and out, watching his breath billow out into a great cloud that dissipated as he jumped through it. “Thank you, Peppermask.” He told her softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Of course you don’t.” She purred in response as they began to slow. They had now reached the log bridge across the river; from here, it was only a short journey up the slope to Fourtrees. “I’ll stay here and make sure everyone gets across safely, since you don’t have a deputy to do it for you.”

He blinked gratefully at her and leaped up onto the slick log. This time, he didn’t hesitate about wrapping his paws around the smooth wood below him and scooting ungracefully across; with how thin the ice was, a fall would surely plunge him into the waters below, and he wasn’t eager to arrive at the Gathering soaked.

The first one to follow him was his old mentor, Tinyfrost. “Fireheart.” He said by way of greeting as he sat by the ginger tom. “I know no one has told you yet, but you’ve been doing a good job as deputy. Better than most Clan cats would, I suspect.”

The words of praise shocked him, and he stared at Tinyfrost in baffled confusion. “I- Thank you.” He stuttered out after several heartbeats. “You’re not jealous? You’re a better candidate than I would be.” One that had taught an apprentice, for starters, though he didn’t say that aloud.

Tinyfrost chuffed as though he’d told a particularly funny joke. “Jealous? Hardly. I don’t think any cat would want to be in your paws - except Tigerclaw, apparently.” He sneered at the name of his banished enemy. “Being deputy is a thankless task, and you’ve not even Bluestar to help guide you. I’m sure a lesser cat would be flattened under the weight of it all.”

Fireheart glanced across the bridge, where Peppermask was watching carefully as Brightpaw was inching across. Had he been listening to her comfort him? He wasn’t sure, and didn’t dare to ask. “I’m doing my best.” He mewed at last. 

“I’m sure it will be enough. I’ve seen what happens when you put your mind to something. Only a fool would stand in your way then.” Tinyfrost watched Cherrypaw step up onto the bridge, his icy gaze unreadable. “Good luck with the Gathering, Fireheart. Don’t let them intimidate you.” 

With that, the little tom slipped off to go speak to Lionheart, leaving the ruddy deputy still slightly bewildered at the whole conversation. He didn’t get a chance to ponder it as Peppermask dropped down beside him. “That’s everyone.” She told him with a curt nod. 

“Thank you.” He gave her a quick nudge of affection before standing and flicking his tail for the Gathering patrol to follow him. They did so readily, climbing the slope to Fourtrees just as they had done for moons and moons before. He tried not to wish that Bluestar was beside him, just as strong and regal as she had always been before Tigerclaw’s attack.

He paused at the top of the slope. He could see dozens of cats gathered below, sharing tongues like old friends. On the Great Rock, he could see six shapes, with more clustered in its shadow; it seemed as though Thunderclan was the last to arrive. He swallowed hard, trying not to let fear well up in him once more. “Remember; I will explain everything when the Gathering starts. Don’t let the other Clans goad you.” He glanced at the end of the line, where the apprentices were crouched. He hoped they would have as much sense as he had had at their age, but he didn’t know them well enough to judge that for certain.

Still, he tried not to let it bother him as he raised his tail in silent signal for the others to follow him down the slope. Once more, he felt a rush of wild joy as they careened down the slope as one, their paws thudding against the ground in time. The crowd of cats looked up to them, perking ears and waving tails in greeting as the Thunderclan cats began to mingle among them.

Fireheart took one last deep breath at the base of the slope before making his way through the crowd, padding up to the base of the Great Rock. Yellowfang and Dewpaw slipped off from behind him over to where the healers were talking, leaving him alone to clamber atop the boulder and meet with the leaders and other deputies.

He had only just made it to the top when he was greeted with two bristling cats. “The Great Rock is for deputies and leaders only!” Leopardflame was snarling in his face before he even had time to react. “What are you doing here? Where’s Bluestar?”

His heart raced in his chest, but he stood his ground against the two. “I know that. I’m Thunderclan’s deputy now.” He responded, doing his best to keep cool and level-headed like Bluestar would. “Bluestar couldn’t make it tonight. I’ll be addressing the Gathering in her place.”

“You? Deputy?” The dark gray tom beside the spotted Riverclan deputy stepped forward, tail lashing. “Who’s your apprentice? What happened to Tigerclaw?”

“None of the Thunderclan cats seem to be surprised.” Fireheart blinked past the two glaring at him to see Tallstar peering over the edge of the Great Rock at the crowd below. “Fireheart may be an outsider, but he is familiar with our customs, and he has a warrior’s spirit. If he says he is deputy now, I believe him.”

The other two leaders glanced at the Windclan tom, considering his words. At last, Nightstar flicked his tail to the tom beside Leopardflame. “Tallstar speaks true. It seems Thunderclan has had a change of leadership. Stand down, Wolfstep.” The dark gray tom only bristled further, even as he glanced furtively back at his leader. “Now. That is an order.”

“You too, Leopardflame.” Crookedstar regarded Fireheart with a nonchalant air, his yellow-green gaze as unreadable as Bluestar’s often was. “There’s no need to intimidate Thunderclan’s new deputy right now.”

The two deputies glanced at each other, as though considering openly defying their leaders. At last, they stepped back, glowering at the ginger tom as he stepped past them to sit next to the other leaders - where Bluestar belonged, if she were at the Gathering.

“What has happened to Bluestar?” Fireheart turned his head to Crookedstar, who was scrutinizing him now. The light tabby’s tail twitched, and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of concern in the Riverclan leader’s eyes. “Why exactly could she not make it tonight? And why has she replaced her deputy so suddenly?”

He glanced at the other cats surrounding him, trying to figure out how to properly word what had happened. After a long moment, he realized it would take much too long to explain the whole sordid story to them privately. “Bluestar is currently unwell, and needs rest. I don’t wish to repeat myself, so I will explain everything once the Gathering has started. It is a long story, so I would like to go first, if that is alright.”

Everyone else didn’t seem pleased with his answer, but after being told off by their leaders the deputies didn’t seem interested in arguing with him. “I see.” Crookedstar rumbled at last, frowning at the Thunderclan cat in front of him. “Well, as the oldest leader among us, it is up to Tallstar to decide the order in which we speak.”

The black and white tom scoffed at the other leader. “Oh, don’t pretend as if you aren’t as curious as I am! I’m sure we’re all very interested in hearing what news he has to share. Very well, Fireheart; Thunderclan may announce their news first.” He pondered the other two leaders for a moment. “Shadowclan will be next, then Riverclan. I will go last.” 

Crookedstar and Nightstar nodded their acceptance of his order. Fireheart wondered briefly if there was some sort of power dynamic at work here that he was not privy to; had he upset them by asking to go first? He didn’t get the chance to ask as Tallstar stepped forward and let out a yowl loud enough to be heard across all the Clan territories.

“Cats of all the Clans!” The Windclan leader called, looking down on the crowd as they began to assemble below him. “Even though the gentle warmth of newleaf beckons, the cold chill of leafbare still grips us, and my thin Windclan pelt can hardly handle the breeze up here on the Great Rock.” His whiskers twitched as he looked down on the cats below, purrs rippling through the crowd. “And so, now that all of us are here, I’d like to get started, so I can get back to my warm nest before my whiskers freeze off!”

With that, he stepped back, turning and giving a stately nod of respect to Fireheart as he sat down. The Thunderclanner gulped, suddenly feeling as though a hard rock had lodged itself in his throat. Still, he took his place at the front of the rock, hoping his fear didn’t show to all the cats below. And below they were - it was quite a distance down from the rock to the crowd. Several fox-lengths at least, he thought, maybe even more - a dangerous height to fall from. If he slipped-

He shook his head and looked up to the stars that twinkled merrily above. Starclan was watching over him - they wouldn’t let him fall. He would be fine. The only question was, where did he start?

“Cats of all Clans,” He began, trying not to let his voice shake as he addressed them. “At the beginning of leafbare, Thunderclan found evidence that Brokentail and his group of rogues had settled on our border. Knowing the danger that these cats presented, not just to us, but to all the Clans, Thunderclan decided to strike swiftly. We invaded their camp - myself included - and dealt what we believed was a decisive blow.”

Whispers broke out amongst the crowd as they wondered where he was going - even the Thunderclan cats seemed a bit confused. “Over these past moons, we had not seen even a whisker of the rogues. We believed we were victorious.” He glanced down at his paws, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “We were wrong.”

“Less than a moon ago, they attacked our camp. A common tactic of theirs, one that they often utilized when they held Shadowclan hostage. If it had just been the rogues, then Thunderclan would have fended them off, just as we have before. But it was not.” He raised his head to look out at the cats below. They were silent now, hanging on his every word. “Unbeknownst to us, two of our own were traitors - wicked cats that sought to use Brokentail’s band for their own benefit. Those cats were Tigerclaw and his old apprentice, Darkstripe.”

He paused, heartbeats of silence stretching out as the crowd processed his words. Then there were yowls of shock and outrage below as the other Clans fully absorbed the weight of his words. A glance to the cats on the rock found them staring at him in horror: the other deputies especially, who had sat beside the accused tom and shared tongues only the moon prior. 

He waited for them to settle down, which took several tense moments. “Not only had Tigerclaw shown them the way to our camp, but he also laced prey he gave to Bluestar with a potent poison - one that she only survived through the grace of Starclan. She still recovers from its effects now, which is why she could not come tonight.” He could see approving nods from some of the senior Thunderclan warriors below as he spoke. Not only was poison a snake-hearted tactic, one that would solidify Tigerclaw’s status as a traitor, but it would also explain any strange weakness that still plagued their silver leader in the coming moons. 

“By doing this, he hoped to gain control of Thunderclan, with Brokentail’s rogues helping to keep us hostage. Had our brave warriors not realized his plot in time, he likely would have succeeded.” Fireheart shook his head, the mere thought of Tigerclaw succeeding enough to strike fear in his heart. “Thankfully, Thunderclan managed to repel the rogue invasion. Not only that, but I bear news that many among you will enjoy hearing; during the fight, one of our warriors dealt a fatal blow to Brokentail, who was on his last life. Our healer confirmed his death and buried him as was appropriate for his deeds.”

Howls of dark joy erupted from below as he spoke. There was not a single cat in the Clans that had not been affected by his terrible reign over Shadowclan, and only a few had even the slightest reason to mourn him. He blinked as Nightstar and Tallstar both stepped forward beside him.

“This is a joyous moon indeed if that foxheart no longer walks among the living.” Nightstar yowled as the crowd simmered down below him. “No Clan knows better than Shadowclan the depths of what that kit-killer is capable of. Knowing his great evil can no longer threaten us is an immense relief, one that we thank Thunderclan for granting us.”

“No Clan besides Windclan, you mean.” Tallstar growled from Fireheart’s other side. “Long have the ghosts of my fallen Clanmates begged for vengeance against the invader that drove us from our home. I have often wished that I could strip each life from that undeserving criminal, that worst of villains, and inflict upon him the pain and suffering of each and every Windclanner by a hundredfold. Revenge is not always the answer, but there is nothing else that Brokentail deserves.”

There were yowls of agreement from the Windclanners below; Fireheart spotted Thrushwing among them, howling her grief for the cats that had been lost at Brokentail’s claws. “Windclan thanks Thunderclan once more for what they have done. May Starclan bless you for moons to come.” With that, the skinny Windclan leader stepped back to allow Fireheart to continue.

He thought for a moment that Nightstar might respond to Tallstar’s cutting comments, but instead the dark Shadowclanner stepped back as well, leaving the ginger tom alone at the front of the Great Rock. “Tigerclaw and Darkstripe were banished for their crimes against Thunderclan and against the code.” He continued once the crowd had finally silenced. “We have reason to believe they are now traveling in league with Brokentail’s band, and were last spotted heading across the Thunderpath, towards Shadowclan territory.”

The Clan cats below him were more solemn now as he spoke, reminding them of the reason Brokentail’s rogues had attacked in the first place. “They are to be considered a danger to all the Clans, and should not be approached alone. Thunderclan disavows them, and recommends they be killed on sight, just like any other murdering rogue would.” Fireheart could see cats nodding below him, and even the leaders beside him seemed to agree with his words. “As you may have guessed, I have been named Thunderclan’s new deputy by Bluestar.” At least for now, he thought to himself. Once Bluestar was better, she would name a different deputy - a better deputy.

“In lighter news, Thunderclan has welcomed five new kits to our nursery; Cloudkit, Rainkit, Lynxkit, Sorrelkit, and Sootkit.” Fireheart couldn’t help but purr at the thought of his sister’s kits; they were walking now, and even starting to climb out of their nests. It wouldn’t be long before they were real pawfuls that all the queens would have to work to keep in line. “I am certain that they will soon be great warriors of Thunderclan, and serve the code and Starclan faithfully.”

He stumbled back to stand by the other leaders, his head beginning to reel as he finished. He had managed to get through the worst of it; whatever else happened now, at least the other Clans knew of Tigerclaw’s treachery. He watched as Nightstar stepped forward, but his ears buzzed as the other leader began speaking. He took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm himself. 

He felt a nudge against his shoulder, and looked to see Tallstar looking down at him with gentle golden eyes. “You did well.” The black-and-white leader mewed quietly, so that only the two of them could hear. “I am sorry to hear about Tigerclaw. When I heard you speak of him on our return home, I did not… I had not realized how far he was willing to go for power. Perhaps I should have offered to intervene, on your behalf.”

Fireheart blinked gratefully at the Windclan tom, even as he shook his head. “I don’t think it would have prevented anything. Tigerclaw was cunning and hid his tracks well. If you had done anything, I think he would have manipulated our Clan into going to war against yours.”

Tallstar’s brows furrowed with worry as he spoke. “You may be right. It has been a long time since Thunderclan and Windclan have been at war, something that has only been prevented by Bluestar’s desire to keep the peace. Sometimes I forget that not all cats have seen the horrors that resulted from those bitter days.” He sighed and shook his head, redirecting his gaze to Nightstar at the front. “We will keep watch for Tigerclaw, and give him no quarter if he comes to our moors. And should Thunderclan ever need help, know that you need only ask and Windclan will aid you.”

Fireheart nodded mutely at the Windclan leader, unsure what else to say, but the black and white tom turned his ears to the front of the Great Rock, leaving the ginger tom alone with his thoughts. He had gotten through the most daunting part of the Gathering now; whatever else happened, it would turn out fine. Instead, he allowed his thoughts to drift away; thoughts of a better moon ahead, when Bluestar had recovered and the Clan thrived.

He could only pray to Starclan that his hopes would be realized.

[fallenwhumpee]

Tower

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Infection, delirium, post-apocalyptic settings.

"We need that supplies from the delivery," Leader started, their voice strained as the fever threatened to overpower them once again. They tightened their hold on the table, steadying their gaze. "I expect all of you to do your best, even if I won't be with you to keep your heads in line."

Youngest looked surprised, concern taking over after realising the meaning. Leader managed a smile, trying to keep their voice gentle. "I won't be joining you this time. My leg would only slow you down. But don't think you can get rid of me that easily. I'll watch over you from the tower and be in your ear every step of the way."

Right Hand assured Youngest too, but worry was clear in their eyes. Everyone had enough on their plate to be concerned about already, but on top of that Leader was burdening everyone. They clenched their fists, swallowing hard, another wave of pain consuming them. "Right Hand, walk me to the tower."

Before they could blink, Right Hand was next to them. But Leader kept walking by themselves until they were out of everyone's sight. With each step, they felt their body falter, the infection tearing them down from inside. They could feel every life depending on them and the people that would jump on them at their slightest mistake.

"Are you alright?" Right Hand asked as soon as they were alone. Swallowing, they managed a nod, but the pain was evident in their trembling limbs. They lowered themselves with Right Hand's help, their breaths laboured.

"Old age is finally catching up," they chuckled weakly, attempting to lighten the situation.

"Don't say that, you're still as strong as ever."

"Oh, where is your spirit?" They stood again, letting Right Hand carry half of their weight. "Can't think of a time you'd miss the opportunity to tease me."

"Please, I—I just can't stand you joking about this. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a parent."

Perhaps the only luxury they had at the end of civilisation was the relationships they had. Leader also saw them as their child, and they feared that when the inevitable come, the one stayed behind wasn't going to handle it well.

They forced a smile as the shiver returned, trying to be supportive despite the pain fogging their thoughts. With sheer willpower, they forced their body to cooperate and stood once more, leaning on Right Hand to carry most of their weight.

As they ascended to the top of the tower, the steps grew slower, each movement burning their veins. Finally, they reached their breaking point, but Right Hand gently guided Leader to a seat, carefully placing their throbbing leg on another chair. They winced, expression crumbling with pain as the cameras flickered to life, casting a blue glow on their pale, sickly skin shining with sweat.

"You should rest," Right Hand cleared their throat. "Not deal with us."

"I will," Leader responded weakly. "When this is over. I want all of you back in one piece." Because I don't know how I can continue if something happens.

-•-

"You can trust me," Right Hand assured as they repeated the plan again, squeezing Leader's shoulder. "I'll set this up and go. You need anything?" They stood, starting to check the mics and earpieces.

"All is well."

The hardest thing was seeing Leader like this. They could do so little with the supplies they had, Leader stubbornly refusing anything because of a flu outbreak in their makeshift village.

"Press the button to talk, and keep the mic next to your mouth." They instructed, checking the cables.

"I'm just—just old. N-not ancient."

Right Hand's heart faltered as Leader's voice faded. They quickly turned back to Leader, only to see them passed out. They shook the feverish body, their breaths hitching with panic. They gasped a weak no, their one hand cupping Leader's burning cheeks.

They opened the windows, wind carrying a breeze due to the height of the tower. Desperately, they searched for something, anything for the fever. There was no medicine, but with a sudden spark of idea, they took Leader's armband, soaking it with precious water.

Their hands trembled as they wiped the sweat falling from Leader's forehead. With desperate hope, they soaked it again and placed it on the leader's forehead, hoping to bring some relief.

"Please, wake up," they didn't know what to do, so they begged. "We're not getting rid of you this easily, remember? You can't leave me— us alone."

Seconds turned into agonizing minutes, and just as Right Hand stood helpless, Leader groaned, eyes opening slightly, their gaze meeting the worried gaze of Right Hand's.

"I... I'm alright," Leader murmured weakly, their voice barely enough to be heard. "The team... needs you. Go."

"No," Right Hand almost pleaded. "I can't— I'm not leaving you alone like this."

"We can't afford to lose the chance for more supplies."

"I will get the doctor, some painkillers and fever reducers—"

"Right Hand," Leader cut sharply, the tune stopping Right Hand at their place. "We both know that the doctor is too busy, and we're running low on the latter two."

Right Hand sobbed. "I'm scared you won't wake up next time."

Leader pulled them to their chest, hugging as tight as they murmured. "I will be here when you come back with the supplies."

Reluctantly, Right Hand pulled back and nodded, their vision blurred by tears. They planted a gentle kiss on Leader's forehead before rising to their feet. With a final look of concern, they checked their gear, adjusted their earpiece, and left the tower, leaving Leader behind.

-•-

Right Hand listened to Leader's voice throught he mission, always steady and assuring. Things went smoothly, and the team was soon back in their territory with the resources.

"Mission was a succes," Leader breathed, their words laced with both satisfaction and fatigue. "You've done well. Now, rest and recover. I'll be waiting for you."

As the team regrouped and began their return to their small village, Right Hand looked for an opportunity. They dropped the supplies, slipping some into their pocket, prompting subtly for Medic to come with them and the others to help the doctor.

They rushed through the stairs, Medic shouting after them where were thry going. There was no time to answer. They barged into the tower, Leader's pained breaths greeting them. Leader stirred, but their eyes were closed, probably not aware of their arrival. Right Hand's heart ached at the sight, and they immediately knelt.

"Leader," they whispered, gently cradling the feverish body. "We're back."

Leader's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, their gaze seemed unfocused and distant. Panic surged through Right Hand as Leader didn't recognize them.

Medic finally reached the top, frozen with shock.

"Help!" Right Hand cried out, snapping Medic out of the shock, and Medic rushed to their side, ripping the leggings of the pant to reach the wound.

Leader's breathing grew ragged as Medic unwrapped the dirty bandages, their movements careful and gentle. But as Leader's fever-addled mind processed the situation, panic washed over them.

Leader struggled in Righf Hand's hold, reaching for their gun or anything they could use as weapon. Grasping the situation quickly, Right Hand threw the gun away and tightened their hold. "Leader, it's okay. Not threats around," they reassured. "Medic is here to help."

Medic spoke calmly, their trembling hands betraying their posture. "I won't harm you, Leader. This is just an injection, something that might help relieve the fever and the infection. Trust me."

Leader trashed weakly, stirring reminding Right Hand of seizures.

"You're going to be alright."

Right Hand held Leader in their arms as Medic injected a powerful antibiotic, wrapping the wound with clean bandages. Leader winced, their weakened body wracked with pain. Right Hand put their chin to Leader's head, Leader clinging to their arm like a lifeline.

As the medication took effect, a wave of relief washed over Leader's features. Right Hand felt Leader relax into their arms. Though weakened, Leader's eyes gained a flicker of clarity.

"I'm here," Right Hand murmured, "you're not alone."

"I... I thought..." Leader's voice trailed off, their words still tinged with confusion.

Right Hand gently stroked Leader's hair. "It's alright, Leader, you're safe. We are safe. Just focus on resting now."

With those words, Leader allowed themselves to drift into the soothing darkness of sleep, their body finally giving their mind a break despite the tormenting pain.

[elf-bot]

dinner for two? - leeteuk, eunhyuk

genre: smut

word count: 3.03k. pretty long.

request: Hii! Can I please request a threesome with female reader, Leeteuk and Eunhyuk (and also prompt number 4* mentioned somewhere maybe)?👀👀 thanks! There should be more fics with the two of them😭

warnings: threesome, eunhyuk having sexual desires for his friend’s girlfriend, some solo, fingering, exhibitionism, voyeurism, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, slight orgasm denial, creampie*.

[i think this is the longest fic i've ever did. hope it turned out good, enjoy as much as i did 😵‍💫]

Hyukjae followed his leader’s steps as they got into the elevator. Surprisingly, Jeongsu asked him to come for dinner that night after their schedule had been done.

“Like a small celebration, we’re free now for some days I guess. That’s something we need to take. A break,” he said.

Hyukjae was surprised to hear his words. He was a workaholic. Will never take a rest, and when he asked him why he understood.

“Y/n suggested that I take some days for now,” Jeongsu shrugged it off.

Of course. It was because of you. You asked him to rest a little. Leeteuk will always listen to you. And he never stopped talking about you and how amazing you were. If there was a single thing in the room, no matter how small it was, Leeteuk would say out loud how it remainded him of you. You were on his mind 24 hours of the day, 7 days of the week.

It wasn’t for nothing. When Hyukjae finally met you, he knew why. You were attentive, caring, patient, beautiful... Everything Leeteuk would’ve wished for and finally got. For a year now, Leeteuk was head over heels for you. So Hyukjae was. Inside.

He just found you incredibly attractive. Recently, you came up to visit on set when filming their music video. His eyes never left your figure and he watched carefully most of your moves and gestures, but you got eyes only for Jeongsu. Every time you were around it was a difficult task not to hover his gaze all over you.

Hyukjae knew it was wrong, however nobody knew. All the members became close to you and they liked you. So it was the perfect excuse. Nobody would notice. Right?

Leeteuk motioned him to enter the place. They changed their shoes to a pair of slippers and walked inside.

“Y/n, we’re here!” the leader announced. He found you on the kitchen island already preparing some vegetables. He pecked your lips, his arms around your waist with Eunhyuk witnessing both of you.

“Hi!” you beamed to the younger man, who smiled and walked away to sit down on the couch. “You brought him up?” you asked your boyfriend in a low voice. He didn’t say anything of someone else coming.

“Yes, we just finished our last schedule,” Leeteuk said. “Is it bad?”

“No, only I didn’t expect it. You should’ve told me before.”

“Sorry, just a long time since we’ve seen each other.”

“Jeongsu, you just filmed together,” you let out a chuckle. “Well, I think some company is good.”

“It guess,” he smiled. “Eunhyuk, would you like to help us?”

“Coming!”

You asked him to help you with the vegetables and the sauce, while Leeteuk prepared the noodles himself. He wasn’t the best at cooking, so you gave him the easier things to do. Hyukjae was nervous, flustered, knowing some improper thoughts of you were on his mind a couple of days ago and now he was near your figure again after some time.

“Are you okay? You’re getting red,” you laughed.

“Yes, it’s only the heat of the kitchen.”

“Got it, you already finished with those. Can you help me getting some stuff from the upper cabinets?”

You guided him down the cabinet and gestured the spices you wanted. He stopped behind you, enough for his crotch to brush your ass a little when he grabbed the jars. It wasn’t really on purpose, but it happened and you noticed it. It was impossible not to feel that.

You continued the cooking as if nothing happened between jokes and small talks until dinner was ready and served. Hyukjae tried not to focus on you during dinner, but it was hard. The way you licked your lips, your laugh, your hands, everything got his mind occupied. Whenever Leeteuk talked to him he had to put up a straight face.

Later, your boyfriend offered him the guest’s room if he’d like to stay since it was late at night and some rain started to pour. Hyukjae accepted and excused himself to sleep earlier than you, Jeongsu gave him some clothes to sleep on. So it left you and Jeongsu on the couch just watching some random TV shows. When you felt like you were on your own now, you moved to straddle his lap and kissed him deeply, your hands on his cheeks.

“What are you doing?” he laughed, surprised by your sudden move.

“I missed you,” you whispered placing your hands on his shoulder and to his chest. Your fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt. “A lot.”

“And?” he placed his hands under your shirt touching your hips.

“I just wanted to be alone with you, that’s all.”

“We’re alone now,” Jeongsu’s hand teased on your covered breast.

“I don’t think so... But I guess this is how is going to be,” you grinded your hips on him. He was getting hard on his pants, you smiled.

His hand moved down your summer skirt, touching you over the fabric of your panties while the other slided inside your bra gripping on your breast and your hardened nipple. You moaned.

“Keep quiet,” he ordered.

You liked this side of him. You thought he would decline. Seemed he was being more adventurous, consideering that you were not really alone at home and in any time you could get caught in the dim light of the living room.

You had to bit your lip as he slowly made his way to your cunt and slipped a finger inside of you. Thankfully the noise of the TV and the rain helped enough to cover your activities that night. His finger started to move slow, but soon his pace increased. You bucked your hips, breathy moans past your lips. Another finger was added, your eyes shut as you looked for your release.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” he mumbled, feeling your tight walls squeezing around his digits.

He fucked you with his fingers faster waiting for you to reach your high. Your hips moved desperately to meet his knuckles deep inside you. Some small moans left your mouth that you hoped would not be heard. You grabbed his arm harshly as you finally felt the sweet release hitting you.

Hyukjae lay down on the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling above him. He had a tough time trying not to think about you. The way you bent over the kitchen island when you were cooking sent him over the edge earlier. He knew you did it with no intention, there was your boyfriend with you after all, so it was normal. He was able to check over your ass and the way the pale skirt showed your panties through the fabric.

How he wished to be the one bending you over and ripping your clothes off so he could fuck you hard. To grip your hair, roam his hands all over your tits and your hips until they would leave marks for days on your skin. And hear those beautiful, sweet moans you’d make when he’s pounding into you...

“Damn it,” he mumbled to himself.

His hand automatically palmed his growing erection on his pants. Hyukjae knew he was wrong for thinking about you, his leader’s girlfriend, in that way. But he couldn’t help it. He had been deprived of sex for some time now and he needed a quick fix. Jerking off was the easiest way right now.

He managed to pull out his hard dick from the confines of the sweatpants he had on. His hand moved pumping himself at a slow pace, he let his head fall back on the pillows with closed eyes.

Flashy images appeared on his mind, dreaming of you taking care of his problem down there. His hand worked harder on his cock. Hyukjae let out a soft whine thinking how your hands and lips would feel around him, sucking him off until he came on your mouth and all over your face and you swallowing his cum...

Suddenly he stopped.

“Shit.”

He wouldn’t do this in there, right? On the guest’s room of his friend and getting off over a person that wasn’t his? Fuck, he might make a mess and Leeteuk didn't have to find out later. He did his pants again and walked to the door. It was past midnight so he hoped both of you were sleeping already. He had to get to the guests’ bathroom to unwind there and not cause any trouble. His moral left behind.

Without making any noise he left the door half closed, so he made his way through the corridor. There was a soft light coming from the living room so he was careful, but what he found forced him to stop right there before being noticed. He clinged to the wall immediately.

He didn’t expect to witness what his eyes were seeing. You were on your knees between Jeongsu’s legs clearly sucking him off. He could see his hand grabbing an amount of your hair and his head falling back on the couch. The arm of the couch blocked the whole view of his dick disappearing on your mouth, but he was pretty sure of what you were doing. Only the brightness of the TV and a lamp in the room was enough for him to see what was going on.

Jeongsu made you stop and motioned for you to come and straddled his lap again. You obeyed and stood up taking off your panties and tossing them to the carpeted floor to sit on his lap, legs on either side of his hips. You grinded your hips a little and he pushed your skirt up. Hyukjae was sure Jeoungsu buried in when your back arched and soon you began to ride him.

Hyukjae licked his lips. Not sure why he stayed there to watch you bouncing on your boyfriend, who happened to be his hyung and one of his closest friends. You made a rather loud moan, enough to be heard over the sound of the TV. Hipnotized, he bit his lip, feeling his hard dick confined in his pants. What was he supposed to do? Run away? Jerk off right there? The bathroom was near the main door. If he was to walk a couple of feet ahead, he would be seen.

However, it was too late for him to leave. You already felt a couple of eyes on yourself when you turned your gaze to the corridor. A silhouette was standing there in the dark and you knew who he was.

“Eunhyuk?” your mouth fell open stopping yourself on your boyfriend’s lap.  

“Uh?”

Jeongsu glanced on the same direction as you did. Hyukjae had been caught. He thought of going back to his room and stepped back, but you called him out again.

“Come here.”

“What are you doing?” Jeongsu protested, his grip got harder on your hips.

Hyukjae gulped and did as you ordered. He stopped a few steps away from the couch, scared of what would happen.

“Were you spying us?” Jeongsu confronted his group member.

“No, I I’m sorry-”

“How long you’ve been there?” you interrupted.

He stayed silent for a moment.

“Just when you started to... you know...” he did sound regretful. Hyukjae avoided your or Jeongu’s eyes. His glance was glued to the floor.

This was the first time both you and Jeongsu had been caught. It was better for you to just stay still. It was such an intimate moment that had been ruined for your boyfriend. But you have noticed his behavior and felt his eyes on you every time you were together. There was something intriguing about Hyukjae and the way he threated you differently, you thought he actually liked you and the way he acted at dinner wasn’t unnoticed. He even had a hard cock on his pants asking for help.

“Have you been thinking about me, Hyuk?”

Jeongsu’s eyes fell on you, his mouth wide open.

“What?”

“I said have you been thinking about me? Because I’ve felt your eyes before.”

He remained silent once again with his gaze now up. His cheeks getting red and hot, to his luck you couldn’t see due to the darkness covering most of the living room.

“Hyuk, answer. Have you been thinking about my girlfriend?”

“No.”

A soft chuckle left Jeongsu’s mouth.

“Your pants say otherwise.”

“You can join us if you want, right?” you stepped in.

“Y/n, I know we talked about this-”

“I think is the right time.”

“For what?” Hyukjae asked.

You smiled.

“For me to help you. Also, we’ve been talking a lot right now and I’m still horny. Come here,” you whined moving your hips. A soft moan left Jeongsu’s lips, who totally forgot he was still inside you this whole time.

“Just this time,” your boyfriend warned. You smirked.

This was something you talked about before, but Jeongsu never brought it up to anyone. He knew you wanted to try someone else joining, but he wasn’t sure about it before. He trusted Hyukjae and he was hard and horny as fuck, so thinking would be interesting he let it be. On the inside, you also thought his friend was hot, so why not?

You motioned Hyukjae to come closer and reached his sweatpants pulling them down along with his underwear. Jeongsu thrusted his hips into you, making you moan while taking Hyukjae’s hard dick in your hand. You jerked him off meeting your hips with Jeongsu’s and you pulled Hyukjae for a kiss.

He swallowed your moans into his mouth realizing that this was really happening and it wasn’t one of his dreams. His hand grabbed your tit through your dress squeezing it softly. Jeongsu rutted deeply and freneticly as you kissed his friend. Hyukjae nipped your bottom lip making you gasp and break the kiss. His hand squeezed your breast harder and made its way inside your shirt and removing your bra to release your breasts.

You moaned and Jeongsu stopped suddenly and pulled out of you. He motioned you to get up. Quickly you reached Hyukjae’s shirt taking it off along with his pants. He did the same with you quite desperate while Jeongsu, now bare, came from behind nipping on your shoulder, his hands trailing over your stomach until he reached your aching cunt.

“Tell me what do you want,” you whispered to Hyukjae.

“I want you, I want to fuck you,” his voice full of lust.

You guided his hand to your core, your boyfriend’s fingers sliding inside and stretching you again. Hyukjae found your clit and you felt pure bliss at both men stimulating on your most sensitive places. His shyness slowly fading away. You felt close for the second time that night, your walls clenching, but that feeling on your belly didn’t find its release when Jeongsu pulled out his fingers. Quickly he guided you to the couch again to get on your hands and knees for them.

“You can have her now, I want her mouth today,” Jeongsu said. He positioned himself sitting in front of you so you were able to take his cock in your mouth using your hand to cover. You moaned and tasted yourself on his lenght jerking him with your hand and using your tongue, his fingers tangled on your hair.

Hyukjae held your hips with his hands harshly making you whine and adjusted himself on your pussy. You heard him hiss as he entered slowly. His hips started going gently but soon he found his pace fucking you hard and taking your hips with his hands harshly, so hard his grip will leave marks for days.

You pulled out Jeongsu’s dick from your mouth to moan and cry out loud, your hand pumping him fast as Hyukjae fucked you from behind. Jeongsu made you take his cock again on your lips and your moans sent vibrations to his lenght. Both men groaned and moaned softly. Hyukjae still in awe of having you on your knees for him to pound into your tight cunt.

“Does it feel good?” Jeongsu asked sweetly with his fingers on your hair, as if you weren’t bobbing on his dick up and down.

You hummed and nodded around him as you could with your mouth stuffed as Hyukjae’s fingers rubbed your clit. That sweet release feeling ran all over your body as your walls fluttered and finally came. String of curses and groans left the lips of the younger man.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hissed.

You pumped your boyfriend faster, looking for his release. His breath itching letting you know he was already so close. His dick twitched on your mouth and he released with a loud groan and swallowed his salty cum.

Hyukjae pulled you up to him roughly making Jeongsu moan at the loss of your lips wrapped around him. Your back pressed against his chest as he picked his pace, rutting into you hardly. His hand wrapping around your neck to keep you close, his hot breath against your skin.

“Oh God-ah!” you cried.

Breathy moans filled the place, you closed your eyes at the sensitive sensation he was causing on your core, your boyfriend coming down from his high watching you getting fucked by his friend right in front of his eyes.

Hyukjae looked for his own release, letting out soft groans on your ear until he emptied himself on your sensitive pussy. His hips still moving making sure you receive every drop of his seed. You felt Jeongsu coming closer, he cupped your tit with his hand rubbing your nipple and kissed your lips.

“You were great,” Jeongsu smirked. “How was she, Hyuk?”

A moan escaped your throat as he slowly pulled out from you, you felt some of his hot cum dripping on your thighs and you shiver.

“Better than I imagined,” he panted, still not getting over that he actually got to fuck you, his friend’s girlfriend whom he had fantasies for so long.

“Let’s do this more often,” you said.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take you at the same time later,” Jeongsu promised.

“Fuck, I can’t wait.”