#menaces kept on throwing out discord while i was on a call

[happi-dreams]

Ive got so many friends hell yeah

[wipodu-ao3]

Meddling Terrors - Httyd fanfiction.

Read it on Ao3. Join the discord!

Summary:

Finding one's soulmate was always an interesting journey, especially when the only way you can do that is by withstanding an annoying animal.

Words: 4,714

[One-shot]

“Stop it! Stop it!” Hiccup yelled as he left his hut.

He had his head shielded from the Terrible Terror who had decided to yank on his hair from the moment the man had woken up. It was incredibly annoying and bothersome. When he had woken up and came face to face with the small dragon, he wasn’t surprised. Larger dragons had managed to get into his hut with little problem before and living on the Edge meant there were more wild dragons than ever before.

When the Terror jumped on his chest and batted at his face with a paw, it was annoying. Hiccup though didn’t bother to think anything of it. Terrible Terrors were troublemakers after all. The small dragon didn’t leave though, even when he had opened the door to let it out. Hiccup just simply shrugged and went on with his day.

He had gotten ready and had planned to spend the day in his hut working, but as soon as he had sat down, the Terror had landed on his shoulder and started pulling at strands of his hair. Hiccup had tried to wave the dragon off, but that didn’t work. He then tried ignoring the small dragon in hope that it would get bored and leave Hiccup alone. That didn’t work either! The Terror started flying around his head, yanking at his hair as often as he could. Hiccup couldn’t take it anymore and ran out of his hut.

He made his way to the clubhouse, hoping that the small dragon would leave him alone. Hiccup didn’t understand what its problem was, he had done nothing to antagonize the little guy. It just seemed to have a grudge against him. Halfway to the clubhouse the Terror left Hiccup alone, but the man had already decided to at least have something to eat since he was already there. Then he would return to his work.

He entered the clubhouse to find it vacant. The others were still asleep or already out, doing what they wanted. It was peaceful these days, the dragon hunters seemed to have taken a break and left them alone for the time being. Constant patrols were happening around Dragon’s Edge for safety purposes. Not to mention with no new information on the Dragon Eye, they didn’t have a lot of reasons to leave the island.

Hiccup sat down with some food and started eating. He was enjoying the peace without the annoying Terror when Astrid came into the clubhouse. She was reading a letter and hadn’t noticed Hiccup, even when she sat down in front of him. Hiccup smiled at her distracted state. It was usually that she was very attentive to her surroundings, but the letter had caught her attention.

“Good morning,” he said.

Astrid jumped in surprise, finally lifting her eyes up from the piece of parchment.

“How long have you been sitting there?” she demanded.

“Since before you came in,” he laughed and gestured to the letter, “Heather again?”

“Yeah,” she blushed, “Her and Dagur hadn’t gotten anywhere with their search yet.”

“Unfortunate,” Hiccup commented as she went back to reading the letter.

He knew there was more in the letter, but he didn’t bother asking. Heather was Astrid’s soulmate and there were bound to be things written there he did not want to know about. The girls were in a happy relationship ever since they figured out they were soulmates, so they talked about things Hiccup didn’t want to know.

He had a thing with Astrid before she figured out Heather was her soulmate. It was fine, not all soulmates got romantically involved, so neither had a problem with being together when they weren’t confirmed soulmates. When Astrid found her soulmate and figured out she wanted to be in a relationship with her, Hiccup had let her go without a complaint.

The whole soulmate thing was strange. There wasn’t a set time when you would meet them and also there wasn’t a guarantee you ever would. The universe somehow knew when it was time for you to meet your ‘other half’ and it usually sent you a sign. The sign was an annoying animal who would not leave you alone until you found your soulmate.

The animal was usually small so it could get to you no matter where you were. When it came to Astrid, it was a chicken who had kept pecking her legs until she literally ran into Heather while trying to get away. Heather had been in a similar position, only she had one of the Night Terrors on her tail. The Night Terror had let out a happy screech and the chicken had let out a final cluck before the animals went away. That was when the girls understood they had found their soulmate.

A lot of people on Berk hadn’t found their soulmates as soon as they could have. The fact that dragons were often the animal that came to lead you had been a problem for them for a long time. When someone on Berk woke up and came face to face with a dragon, no matter the size, they hadn’t thought it meant anything good and when they did stop to think, the dragon was already dead. Now, with the war over, a lot of Hooligans had found their soulmates.

Hiccup watched as Astrid put down the letter with a smile on her face. He was happy that his friends had managed to keep their relationship strong even with the distance between them. The others still hadn’t found their soulmates, but they all wanted to. Astrid just happened to be the first out of them to get one. Hiccup did his best to not think about it, since again, there was no guarantee that you would find your soulmate. He didn’t want to spend his time waiting for something that might not even happen.

“Didn’t you say that you’ll be in your hut the whole day?” Astrid asked him after getting some food for herself only to then gesture to his plate, “I said I’d bring you food so you could work on your project.”

“I had incentive to leave my hut this morning,” Hiccup laughed, “A Terror decided that I was the reason for all of its problems and didn’t leave me alone until I left my hut.”

“Weird,” Astrid mumbled as she gave him a suspicious look, “That hadn’t happened to you before, has it?”

“No,” Hiccup shook his head and shrugged, “There’s a first time for everything.”

Astrid hummed and left the matter alone. Hiccup was almost done eating when he noticed the same Terror fly into the clubhouse, it landed near the door and stared at Hiccup. It slowly blinked at Hiccup when he went to wash his plate. The small creature didn’t do anything until Hiccup sat back down because he wanted to talk to Astrid about the patrol schedule. He only started to talk when the Terror landed on his shoulder again.

“You again,” he sighed and looked at the Terror. It licked his eye and kept its unblinking gaze firmly on Hiccup.

“Is this your friend from the morning?” Astrid asked with a laugh.

“Yes it is,” Hiccup nodded, “So Tuffnut and Ruffnut will take the – ouch!”

The Terror then yanked his hair once again. Hiccup turned to the dragon and pushed him off his shoulder with a loud huff. The small dragon landed on the ground and sneezed in his general direction. He turned back to Astrid.

“They’ll take the west – hey! Stop it!” He exclaimed again as the small dragon bit into his prosthetic.

Hiccup tried to shake the dragon off, but it didn’t work. The Terror had no plans on leaving Hiccup alone. Astrid tried to contain a laugh while Hiccup hopped around the clubhouse, trying to shake the dragon off.

“Hiccup,” she started but didn’t get to finish her thought.

The Terrible Terror finally let go of Hiccup’s prosthetic, only to bite his other leg.

“That’s it!” Hiccup shouted, “I’m getting Toothless. He can deal with you, you menace!”

Hiccup left the clubhouse with a quick goodbye. He had to drag the small dragon on his leg for most of the journey. It wasn’t until he was halfway back to his hut that the dragon let go, leaving him alone once more. Hiccup didn’t understand why the dragon had decided to annoy him. Hiccup loudly sighed as he sat down at his table. The Terror was now gone, he had no reason to wake Toothless.

Hiccup worked in peace for just a few minutes when the small dragon appeared again. The Viking took a moment to give the dragon the benefit of the doubt, hoping that the dragon would not bother him yet again. No such luck. The Terror disappeared for only a short moment before he flew into the hut then dropped a fish onto Hiccup’s head.

“For the love of – Toothless!”

The Night Fury jumped down from the bedroom as soon as he heard Hiccup call for him. Toothless quickly noticed the little menace and picked him up by his scruff. Hiccup pointed to the outside and Toothless carried the dragon out. The black dragon then placed him on the ground then walked back inside, growling deeply at the creature. Hiccup closed the hut’s doors as soon as Toothless was inside, thinking that would be the end of it.

He was wrong.

Hiccup turned around, hoping to go back to work, but could only let out a ‘manly’ scream when he saw the Terror sitting on his desk. Hiccup huffed then threw open his doors again. He got on Toothless and went off to find Astrid, hoping she would know how to get rid of his problem.

It took a good long flight around the island before he spotted her in the forest. She was in the middle of a grove, throwing her axe at the trunks. Hiccup then noticed further away to her left she had a piece of parchment and a coal pencil sitting on a stump. It seemed that she had stopped in the middle of writing her response to Heather.

“Astrid!” Hiccup called as he jumped off of the Night Fury.

“Hiccup, what’s wrong?” she immediately asked as she noted the irritated look on his face.

“It’s the dragon!” he said as he started pacing in front of her.

“Toothless?” she asked in confusion.

“The Terror! It just won’t leave me alone!” he told her while he threw his arms up in frustration.

“Just get Toothless to intimidate it, that should work,” she simply replied with a casual shrug. Astrid didn’t really understand why he was coming to her with this type of problem. He knew better than them all on how to deal with dragons.

”It didn’t work!” he exclaimed, “It wouldn’t bother me if it didn’t think that biting me, yanking my hair and dropping fish on me was funny.”

“Hiccup,” she got his attention with a gentle touch to his shoulder, “I think you’re missing the very obvious explanation.”

“What explanation?”

“The Terror is here to lead you to your soulmate.”

“That’s not possible,” he dismissed her words, “There were no new people on the Edge and I haven’t met anyone new recently.”

“Your soulmate might be someone you already know,” she pointed out, “I knew Heather for years before I found out.”

“But Heather was here when you ‘found’ her,” Hiccup reminded her, “And I don’t think any of the others have an annoying companion.”

“Fine, if it’s not here to lead you to your soulmate,” she sighed, “It will grow tired of annoying you and will leave you alone soon enough.”

“I guess so,” he relented, “I’m going to take a flight around the island. Couldn’t hurt to see that maybe one of the others do have some animal annoying them.”

“Good luck!” she told him, sending him off with a wave. She then went over and picked up her half-written letter, suddenly struck with inspiration on what to write.

~

Three days.

Three days he had been haunted by the Terrible Terror. At this point he had no other choice but to admit that it was there to guide him to his soulmate. There was just one problem. No one else on the island was in the same predicament, so Hiccup didn’t know what to do. The small dragon only left him alone when he was sleeping, eating, and or actively moving. If he sat down to do something that the Terror didn’t consider self-care or him working on finding his soulmate, the dragon made a point to go all out to bother Hiccup.

At one point, the dragon had almost singed off his eyebrows.

The gang found it hilarious. It was funny to an extent, just not when it was happening to you specifically. Hiccup had even apologized to Astrid for finding it funny when she had the chicken pecking at her until she found her soulmate. The blonde accepted his apology and had blanketed permission to laugh at his predicament. She didn’t, at least not to his face, unlike the others who did.

“Should I just wander across islands until I found them?” he asked Astrid one evening.

The gang were eating dinner. It was one of the few times the Terror left Hiccup alone, though it was still watching him from the rafters.

“Find who?” she asked absentmindedly since she was reading another letter from Heather.

“My soulmate.”

“You could do that,” Astrid agreed while her blue eyes looked up from the letter, “Seems like it would take you way too long though.”

“Much too long,” Fishlegs agreed, “Why don’t you visit the island where we’ve met people first?”

“Or Berk,” Astrid added, “It’s the farthest away and if your soulmate is there, you would shave off a lot of time.”

“We are over do for a visit to home,” Fishlegs pointed out.

“Okay then,” Hiccup shrugged, “That’s the best idea so far. Tomorrow morning we’ll leave for Berk.”

“Heather and Dagur are visiting in a couple of days,” Astrid told them, “We should be back by then, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it will take long for me to find out if anyone has the same problem as me,” Hiccup nodded and went back to eating.

He ate slowly, enjoying the time without having to defend himself from the infuriating Terror. A visit to Berk would be good even if he didn’t find his soulmate. Hiccup was sure that no matter what, Stoick would have some advice for him.

~

“There isn’t anyone looking for a soulmate as far as I know,” Stoick told him as he handed him a clean washcloth, “Sorry, son.”

“It’s okay,” Hiccup sighed as he cleaned the scratches on his forearm, “It was a long shot anyway.”

“And this Terror has been doing this to you regularly?” Stoick questioned while he motioned at the scratches.

“No,” Hiccup shook his head with a puzzled look on his face, “This was the first time it actually harmed me.”

His father nodded and hummed. Hiccup cleaned his injury then quickly picked up a plate of food Stoick had prepared. He had been eating more than usual these days, desperate for any break in the torment the Terror constantly inflicted.

It was already late evening, tomorrow they would leave Berk. In the morning, Hiccup had taken upon it himself to go through the village in pursuit of anyone searching for their soulmate. He sadly had gotten nowhere. When he had arrived at the forge to work on something to clear his head, the Terror had pelted him with pieces of metal until Hiccup left the building and went back to walking through the village.

When Hiccup had tried to go to the cove to get some peace and quiet, the Terror had caught his arm in its claws. It then had pulled until the claws broke skin and Hiccup retreated to his home. He had made his way to his room and fallen asleep for just a couple of minutes, only to wake when Stoick had come home looking for him. Astrid had apparently told Stoick that Hiccup wanted to talk to him, so his father had come to see what he wanted.

“So it got more desperate when you got to Berk?” Stoick asked.

“Yes,” Hiccup confirmed between bites of his meal.

“You put distance between your soulmate,” his father stated.

“How do you know that?” Hiccup questioned with a tilt of his head.

“When I was younger, my father used to tell me this one story,” Stoick started while setting his cup of mead down on the table, “I don’t remember the details, but it was about a man who had a boar to lead him to his soulmate. He got injured several times before he decided to leave his home in search of his other half, the boar got more annoying than threatening as he got closer to the island that housed one of his allies. When the man had reached his allies the only thing the boar did was nudge him forward. The man’s soulmate turned out to be the new chief of the island, a woman he had met only once before.”

“So you’re saying that the reason why the Terror harmed me was because I got further away from my soulmate?” Hiccup clarified. His father nodded in agreement.

Hiccup let out a tired groan and pushed away the food he had been eating.

“We went to Berk because it was the farthest island we knew people on,” Hiccup told his father, “I wanted to get it out of the way first.”

“You’ll find them,” Stoick told him, “The Terror wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t the right time.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Hiccup sighed and left the table to go back to his room.

~

Hiccup watched as Astrid walked into the clubhouse. She had a smile on her face and was humming a cheery tune to herself. Hiccup had his head in his hands, quietly observing everything happening around him. He watched as she went around the building, gathering things in a picnic basket.

“Oh,” Astrid gasped as she finally noticed him, “What are you doing here?”

“Contemplating life,” he sighed as he put his head down on the table.

“Where’s your little friend?” she asked with an amused smile.

Hiccup didn’t answer her for a silent moment. When she was about to ask again he then lifted his prosthetic from under the table, where attached to the wood was the Terror. It was chewing the leg, seemingly enjoying itself.

“At least it calmed down,” Astrid comforted him with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Hiccup groaned as he lifted his head. His tired eyes landed on her, “Packing a picnic?”

“We agreed I’ll meet them halfway, Heather and I wanted to spend a night away from the Edge,” Astrid explained, “Get some peace and quiet from the others, you know?”

“Smart,” Hiccup agreed, “What about Dagur?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” she turned to him again and leaned on the table behind her, “They found some sort of riddle in Oswald’s journal. They think it’s talking about one of his stops, but they can’t figure it out. So if you don’t mind, Dagur wants to see you so you could take a look at it?”

“Why do they think I’ll be able to figure it out?”

“Because you know more islands and have a better understanding of maps,” Astrid told him, “Will you take a look at it?”

“I will,” he easily agreed, “Anything to forget about this for a moment.”

He pointed down to the Terror, the small dragon had moved on to pulling at his pant leg. He was tired at this point and anything would be better than dwelling on the whole soulmate thing.

~

Astrid had already left while the others were still going about their day. Hiccup was sitting in his hut with the Terrible Terror watching him from the table. Toothless had grown tired of the Terrible Terror and did his best to stay away when he knew Hiccup would get bothered by it. Hiccup had a map in front of him, one of all the islands that they had visited. He wanted to come up with a path he could follow that would help him visit the most islands in the shortest span of time.

“I will gut you!”

Hiccup perked up at hearing Dagur’s voice from outside of his hut. The door opened and Dagur stepped inside. He had quickly thrown the doors closed behind him before he let out a loud breath then turned to Hiccup.

“Hiccup! Astrid said I would find you here,” he greeted.

“Dagur, hey,” Hiccup welcomed before gazing back down at his map. He drew the last line on the map which marked the last island he would visit if he hadn’t found his soulmate by then.

Hiccup felt Dagur step up behind him. He could feel the older man’s breath fan his neck as Dagur looked down at the map as well. Hiccup suppressed a pleased shiver because he could only assume that would freak the Berserker out. Normally Hiccup didn’t like people being in his personal space, yet he never seemed to mind when it came to Dagur.

At first, it had been like it was with just anyone else. Hiccup had hated being touched by the redhead, but then Dagur had stopped trying to kill him and had saved Toothless, all the while trying to prove that he had changed. Then, little by little, Hiccup noticed that he didn’t care when Dagur touched him. A hand on his shoulder, a pat on his back, a quick hug in greeting, it was all normal to Hiccup.

He tried not to think about other times, like when he would still shy away when Snotlout patted his back in congratulations. Not also forgetting how he did his best to not get in the middle of a twins’ hug, or how when Fishlegs ran up to him, getting into his personal space, and he had to stop himself from cringing away. He didn’t think about that. He couldn’t, because if he did, it would just raise more questions than offer answers.

“What’s this?” Dagur asked as he pointed to the pages scattered on the tabletop.

“This –“ Hiccup cleared his throat and swallowed the spit that had gathered in his mouth. He shooed away the Terror, who had perched itself on the corner of the map, “ – is a map.”

“I can see that,” Dagur chuckled, “What’s it for?”

“I marked the fastest path that lets one visit all of the islands,” he explained with a shrug.

“Why do you need that?” Dagur asked while reaching his hand around the taller yet skinnier Viking. He then picked up the map and fully stepped back away from Hiccup.

Hiccup let out a deep breath before turning around. He let Dagur examine the massive parchment for a moment before he answered.

“I need to find my soulmate and that’s the list of islands where I have met someone,” Hiccup shrugged.

Dagur turned to look at him before he handed over the map just as the Terror landed on Hiccup’s shoulder.

“You too, huh?” Dagur asked as he eyed the small dragon, who had started pulling at Hiccup’s hair once again.

“What do you mean?” Hiccup asked. He gently rolled up the chart of isles before setting it on the table behind him.

“I have a menace like that too,” Dagur gestured to the Terror then over to the Hiccup’s front door, “Managed to leave it outside for the moment.”

“What a coincidence,” Hiccup chuckled while heavily leaning back against the table. He cleared his throat and decided to drop the subject, “Astrid said you needed help with a riddle?”

“Yeah, about that, I don’t need help,” Dagur sheepishly admitted.

“You figured it out?” Hiccup asked with interest.

“It wasn’t a riddle in the first place,” The Berserker shrugged while he leaned back on the wall behind him, “When I read it, I knew what island he was talking about. But Heather needed a break and she missed Astrid, so I just acted like I had no idea and suggested we come here for help.”

“What island was he talking about by using a riddle?” Hiccup questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Berk,” Dagur simply answered, “And it wasn’t a riddle, my father just used my description of the island. After visiting for the first time, I told him that Berk was ‘an island full of life and wonder, with people who took your breath away.’ He used those words and Heather had no idea what it was about.”

Hiccup nodded and they stayed where they were, letting the silence linger as they gazed at one another for a few more moments. The Terror was still on his shoulder, though it had now moved to gently nibbling at his ear. The small dragon had been acting way nicer than ever before, but Hiccup didn’t give it much thought. He was about to suggest they both go to the clubhouse. It made no sense for them to stay in his hut, but then another Terrible Terror suddenly appeared and landed on Dagur’s head.

“Get off me!” the older man immediately yelled and started to bat at the dragon, hoping to get it off his head.

The other Terror didn’t budge, going as far as to dig his claws into Dagur’s scalp. Hiccup hid a smile, though he instantly felt sympathy for the other man. This had happened to him too, so he quickly stepped up to the angry Viking and tried to assist him. It was difficult since Dagur had begun to spin about in place, all the while trying to pry the small dragon from his red hair.

“Okay – just let me – c’mon –” Hiccup stammered as he tried to get close enough to offer his help.

His own Terror had decided it was the perfect opportunity to mess with him and get under his feet. Hiccup unexpectedly stumbled and crashed into Dagur. They fell hard to the ground as the shorter man’s arms immediately found their way around Hiccup’s middle. The older had cradled him to his armored chest to soften the blow of landing on the unforgiving wooden floor.

Hiccup lifted his head off of where it had landed on Dagur’s body. He could feel warmth radiating from where Dagur’s hands managed to secure themselves along his waist. At the same time he could also feel a warming blush crawl up his ashen face. He was about to ask if Dagur was alright when he noticed the two Terrors on either side of Dagur’s head. The dragon’s eyes were locked on the young Berkian, giving Hiccup expectant looks.

“Oh,” He gasped as it finally hit him.

“Are you okay?” Dagur asked him as he lifted his head from the floor, a dazed haze in his green eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hiccup reassured him as he quickly rose to his feet then gave Dagur a hand to help him up, “Never better actually.”

“Are you sure?” Dagur questioned again after he took his hand, getting to his feet, “You’re acting kind of weird.”

“Dagur,” Hiccup chuckled, “You’re looking for your soulmate, right?”

“Yes,” he answered with a pinch of confusion in his brows.

“Well, so am I,” Hiccup told him and squeezed the man’s hand.

“What does that – oh,” Dagur said for now he too understood. A wide toothed grin broke out on his face, “We’re soulmates.”

“Yeah, we are,” Hiccup agreed with a chuckle.

The two Terrors together let out a chorus of happy croons then finally flew away. Neither man even bothered to notice since they were too fixated on one another. They seemed to unconsciously gravitate to one another, the distance immediately reducing between them. Hiccup couldn’t even tell you what he was thinking as he leaned down and slowly connected his lips with Dagur’s. The kiss wasn’t anything extraordinary, yet it still was incredibly special.

It was their first kiss, the first of many.

[mihidecet]

Sbi&CO d&d AU: A Familiar Face (1/?)

WELCOME WELCOME EVERYONE! Today, the tournament arc begins! I do hope you’ll enjoy this ahahah

I dedicate this to all the wonderful people of the Au’s Discord - hit me up if you wanna join! Also, a special thank you to @traitorous-bisexual and @awebo without whom this arc wouldn’t exist <3

Finally, before we start: make sure you check out @whatimevendoinhere , @spout1nk and (soon) @julius-ranch for art and fanfics about the AU!!

It was a lovely morning. 

The sun shined through the tinted windows, turning the light a soft orange glow that lessened the glare of it against his eyes. 

It was a welcome respite: during the months that involved preparing the tournament, days were quick to melt together, nights becoming just darker afternoons as Scott and everyone around him hurried to make everything look ready for the contestants' arrival. So, not having the sun shine directly into his eyes as he looked over the final challenges that had been chosen for the tournament was a relief. The cup of warm tea by his desk was also a saving grace.

Stifling a yawn, Scott figured that he could let himself take a stroll. Maybe open up his window, let the room freshen up a bit. 

With his window overlooking one of the many parks inside the Academy, maybe he could distract himself for a moment and see if his protege had finally started warming up to his teammates. 

That plan had flown out of the window almost immediately. Or maybe it would be better to say that it had flown into the window, along with a green tipped arrow that had suddenly appeared in his field of vision. 

Now, Scott hasn't been adventuring for a while, but it would be foolish to think that he's forgotten how the world works - with a flick of his wrist, a translucent dome of purple arcane energy materializes between him and the incoming arrow, which impacts with the barrier a split second later. The tip goes through, piercing the veil of his magic, and for a terrifying moment Scott thinks it's not gonna stop, but it simply stops, held in place as if caught in a web. 

Which is a relief, the amateur that tried to attack him - an Archmage, in the middle of his own Academy - failed to get their first shot in and this will give him the time to step back and call his most trusted in order to quickly and efficiently get rid of the problem at hand. He has other more pressing matters to attend to, he's not going to waste his time on this. 

As his Shield spell fades, it congeals like a shimmering second skin over his upper arm. Maybe calling the guards isn't that pressing, he's got this. 

Or maybe he doesn't, he thinks as he get a second, much more terrifying surprise - in the span of a couple of seconds, he really can get no breaks.

A figure materializes in the air in front of him, with a dark hood over their head that covers most of their features except for a huge - terrifying - grin and an intricate bow strapped to their back.

The figure appears with a puff of iridescent smoke, crouched in the air as if they'd been in the process of jumping before they decided to teleport, and- crashes into him, the force of the impact and the shock of it happening making him lose his balance and start falling back. 

There's a moment where Scott is confused: is this some sort of strange tactic? Did the stranger misjudge their trajectory? Are they going to wrestle on the ground as if they weren't both magic users? 

Then, a brief split second of panic - he didn't look what the stranger was holding, and he is currently falling on his back. He is going to get stabbed, at the very least, and that conviction is only made stronger as he feels the stranger's arms close in around him. 

But then, Scott has simply enough time to blink in shock, as the arms just wrap around his back, before his world is literally turned upside down.

One moment he is falling on his back, already anticipating the pain of a knife to the back - please no vital organs, spare him the need for an extremely expansive healer. The next the is wrapped in a hug and grunting in pain as his knees impact with the ground. 

"Ah, fuck that hurt- Scotty are you alright?" 

Scott refuses to believe this. He pushes against the chest under him - the arms give, letting him go - and finds himself face to face with a sight that is both very familiar and weirdly unusual. 

"You-" Scott says, tone an unconvincingly mix of menacing and angry as he jabs a finger into the not-so-stranger's chest -"Are lucky to be alive. I could have murdered you."

Hbomb's worried glance instantly brightens, despite Scott's best hopes, and he throws his head back to laugh. No matter how irritated he is at his friend, he can't help but huff out a laugh himself, and a moment later they're both chuckling together on the floor. By all the gods, it has been some time.

"You are a dumbass, H. You couldn't just use the door? You know, like a normal person?!" Scott asks, holding himself up on his left elbow because H has always been one to laugh with his whole body and Scott is still recovering from jamming his knees into the floor, he's not in the mood to be jostled around by an enthusiastic ranger. 

"Aw, Scotty, aren't you happy to see me?" The half-elf asks, putting a hand on his chest as he fails to pretend he's insulted. Scott flicks his nose. 

"Ah- that hurt!"

"I know, I meant it to hurt. Now, do you want to tell me what you're doing here? And what is that doing on your face?" Scott demands, serious at first until he realises that H has been growing out his beard well past what he considers to be a good length - H's pout is barely visible under all that scruff.

"Well, now, that is unnecessarily rude. I've been traveling for a while now, and I wasn't gonna risk injuring myself-" Scott grabs a wandering hand and brings it back on H's chest. 

"H." Hbomb has a tendency of gesticulating when his hands aren't being kept busy, and while he did figure that his friend had simply forgotten to shave, he has known him long enough to be able to recognise when H is going off on a tangent - which is perfectly fine - and when he's changing the subject because he doesn't want to answer. 

He knows he's right when H simply shuts up, eyes wide like those of a deer - quite fitting, considering where he enjoys spending most of his time. But instead of looking pensive, or starting to answer, H just … looks down. At where their hands are. 

Normally, he wouldn't think much of it. But H looks almost sheepish, and his eyes keep moving from his face to their hands, so Scott looks down. 

His brain screeches to a halt, and suddenly he stands up a little straighter, sitting on the floor next to H as he grabs his hand in his. 

Around his fingers wraps a perfect replica of a silver winged fae dragon, while in his palm- one of the most accurate representations of the different Planes. 

Scott turns his stare to his fiend, who looks more calm than Scott feels he has any right to, and when he speaks he sounds almost breathless. 

"What happened to you?"

The tale of how Shubble's patron reached out to him to grant him powers is exhilarating. Not in the "funny" sense, more in the "my friend who is usually not that fond of talking and interacting with people especially when he's not in a place he is familiar with, was transported to a different plane and spoke with a being of transcendent power". So maybe a bit in the "funny" sense. 

The only negative side of the whole affair is the fact that Shubble is currently not present. 

She actually teaches at the Academy, so H was right in his assumption that reaching this place would have helped him out, but he just barely missed her by a couple of weeks. She's recently left, called out on an urgent mission by her patron themselves, and a part of Scott's mind can't help but feel like it is an extremely weird coincidence: he respects power gained through pacts, but he fears deeply the machinations of otherworldly beings' minds and the power they hold over his friends. He'd much prefer dealing with forces controlled by his own self, so that when a spell backfires comically he only has himself to blame. 

But all things considered, he's glad to see H is still alive and seemingly doing better than ever. He looks fine, happy and more confident than the last time he saw him - the way he stands and moves more firm, more secure, filling his space in a way the Hbomb of some time ago wouldn't have. 

It's nice to see him like this. 

What isn't nice is the way his increased confidence leads him to suggest how good of an idea it would be for him to take part into the tournament. Which is a horrible idea. 

"Listen, I know I am banned from playing again-" H starts, arms spread open with a mischievous grin on his face. Scott has sudden flashbacks to all the times he'd seen that grin from the other side of the battlefield and shakes his head firmly before pointing a stern finger at his chest.

"You still have a year before you can." 

H huffs, shoulders falling, and he adopts the most fake-innocent expression Scott has ever seen. 

"But I'm just here to say hi!" Scott levels him with a blank stare, using all of his willpower and internal strength to avoid bursting out laughing. Because for all that his friend's expression is hilarious, this is really no laughing matter. He can't have him win again. 

"I said what I said." H's head hits the desk with a groan of protest. 

On the other side of the table, Scott pinches his own arm in order not to laugh. 

He fails.

H still manages to pout his way into getting a free room to stay in for a while - just like the old times, come on! - and seems to be alright with being left to his own devices for the rest of the morning. 

Knowing him, he'll take it as the perfect chance to snoop around, make new friends and bother the tournament's contestants. 

As Scott turns back to his schematics, the only thing he does is chuckle to himself. 

[theloyaltyofthewolves]

recently the mood has just been no thoughts, head empty; just soft SKZ Virgo boys~

okay okay okay. okayokayokay. let’s talk about the virgos. (this is going to be a long post, so go make yourselves some popcorn or tea or white wine or somethin because i have been wanting to write this from the moment i started this blog and this bitch is long.)

it’s a little impressive, honestly, to have a group of eight people consist of three virgos. considering it’s one of the most underappreciated signs in the zodiac, that’s a lot of earth sign, and that’s a lot of virgo. but i think the interesting thing about the virgos in stray kids is that they are all different versions of the same sign. like one of those pokemon whose evolution is the same creature, just with a different coat color. they play so perfectly off and into each other. it very much feels as if it was meant to be. 

let’s start with the baby.

seungmin is almost a cusp. he’s right on the border of libra and virgo, which means he inherited a little bit of both. cusps are often pretty conflicted people, but i think seungmin wears it well. he’s got the steadiness of a virgo—his feet are planted firmly in the soil. he’s got the motivation of a virgo, that self-discipline that verges on cruel. listening to the paranoid ways that he cares for his voice—no a/c, only masks, no shouting—that’s that virgo neurosis. he’s the controlled virgo, the perfectly-aligned virgo. the stereotypical virgo. good with money, level-headed in an argument, prone to fits of contained anger if things don’t go his way or he experiences unanticipated setbacks. he’s the impatient, exasperated, long-suffering virgo mom friend. tough love, rough love. brutal honesty and uncensored opinions. getting his teammates out of bed and into the van, forcing vitamins down their throats, throwing sunscreen at their backs and water bottles at their heads because god fucking damnit, can’t they take care of themselves for once? the advice-giver, the maknae with a head full of barbed wisdom. he’s the knows better kid, because he does. seungmin knows better. he knows what to do, so he’s the one they call. night or day. i’ve messed up, i think i really messed up this time. and he’ll talk them off a ledge, go to the only all-night grocery store, buy some ice cream and some gummy vitamins. show up at jisung’s door and say take a deep breath. you’re going to be okay, peabrain. grow up a little. sharp and a little bit caustic, but his friends have learned that the sting usually means he’s right.  

and within that rough love, there are moments of unthinkable sweetness. holding hands under the table to calm nerves at radio interviews, pressure on the back of a neck to hold back a panic attack at an airport, warm arms under the covers the night before a concert. the ability to bring such profound comfort is uniquely virgo--it exists nowhere else in the zodiac. no other sign has the capacity to ground, to center. there is assurance of course in the gentle touch of others, of the i feel you, i am with you, you’re going to be okay. but that’s not how seungmin brings comfort. it’s not gentle, it’s not soft. it’s not treating someone like they’re about to shatter to pieces. it is an unyielding and forceful kind of comfort. you are breathing. your heart is beating. you are alive--now fucking act like it. that’s what seungmin does, he brings his teammates back to the ground and he ties them there, strings a rope between his hand and theirs so that there is no slipping away. it’s a rough love, a tough love, but it works. like splashing your face with cold water, or pinching the back of your hand. a little bit of pain – just a little – to remind you that you are still alive. you’re still feeling. and then seungmin will sit and he will wait and he will keep his teammates together until they’re strong enough to do it themselves. nothing weathers the winds and the waters of time like a virgo’s love. 

there are souls in this world who have lived many lives. people that you encounter and can sense, somehow, somewhere, a very immense sort of old. not old like grandparents or textbooks, not old as in dusty attics or love letters, black and white photographs. old as in ancient. like the sea, or the mountains, the canyons. the redwood trees and the milky way. sometimes you encounter people who hold that great vastness of time in them, and yongbok is one of those people. his soul has been around for a very, very long time. it’s seen the oceans rise and the moon go yellow. this is not its first time on earth, nor will it be its last.

yongbok is the old-soul virgo. the contemplative, philosophical one with his head in the clouds. he spends a lot of his time thinking, just like all virgos do. they are the overthinkers, the worriers. worring over things that have happened, are happening, will happen. past, present, and future, worry worry worry. and i know he doesn’t really come across like that at first. i too was fooled into believing that yongbok does not have a brain. plot twist: i actually think yongbok might use his brain the most. not for common sense, or anything. like let’s be real: yongbok has definitely never asked himself whether the thing that he is doing, such as eating a banana peel or gluing googly eyes to all of minho’s possessions, is a good thing to be doing. that thought process has never entered his head, nor will it ever enter his head. this is because wisdom and intelligence are different traits, and while yongbok’s got wisdom coming out the ass, he’d sit on wet paint because he didn’t take the time to read the sign. i think that’s why i’ve always felt like yongbok wasn’t really made to be an idol. like, of course he deserves it and he belongs with stray kids. he’s good enough and he’s brave enough and he’s strong enough. but there’s just something about him that screams i was not made for a life of glass and steel and concrete. i was not made for a camera lens. he was made for a cottage on the edge of the sea where he can sit and contemplate the great unknown unhindered by paparazzi or a world-class act. he’s too soft for that, too gentle. too sincere and genuine and open-hearted.

i think yongbok learning to make peace with the discord within himself though – an inner yearning for a simple life and an unquenchable thirst for success – by finding fulfilment outside of the business end of stray kids and devoting himself instead to his members. i could talk for hours about yongbok and his cooking and his sunshine, but i’ll restrain myself and just say: yongbok isn’t the backbone of the team. he doesn’t have the strength and willpower the way chan or minho do, the physical capacity to endure weight and pressure and carry his teammates to the finish line like changbin. he’s not grounding like seungmin or jeongin, he’s not electrifying like jisung, and he doesn’t bleed humanity like hyunjin. yongbok’s power, his role in stray kids, comes from his softness and his genuine love for them. the way he looks at them like they hung the stars. the gentle, silly, dumb ways he loves them, gives and shows that love just by being present. he’s the sunshine kid, he brings warmth because he brings love, because it comes off of him in waves. 

and then there’s jisung. little jisung! a virgo in his own right, although you wouldn’t think it given his propensity for dramatics and conflict and stage-stealing. what makes jisung a virgo is his defiance. i’ve talked about it before, could talk about it until i was blue in the face, but jisung is filled with fire. i don’t know what force made him this way, but whatever it was, it made him with the intention to burn. burn down stages, burn down cities, burn down countries. ashes to ashes and dust to dust, jisung is meant to bring the world to its knees. there is a hurricane in him, a maelstrom. it strains at the seams of his skin to be released, rages against his bones until they crack under the weight of all the life he’s kept contained. there is a light in him that will never go out and every day he fights against it swallowing him whole. 

that kind of fire knows no master. cannot be handled, cannot be contained. cannot be scripted or framed or repositioned. there is no politics in jisung’s fury and ocean, it is just sheer energy and flame—human spirit, you could say. virgos are masters of their own fates. they do not let higher powers take their will from them. the backbone of every revolution is a virgo, because they’re unfazed in the face of authority. virgos only believe in power they can see and touch. that means they are not fallible to state or god. no wonder why jyp had such trouble with jisung at first—there’s no way a kid like that, with that much cyanide and gasoline in his veins, fell into line. in fact, we know he didn’t. in a place so constrained and regimented as an entertainment company, someone like jisung must have chafed at every corner. virgos can’t be tricked into believing, there will be no blind faith from them. you have to put your money where your mouth is and prove yourself. not just that you’ve got a cause worth fighting for, but that you’re even worth the time of day to listen to in the first place. i don’t know about you, but i kinda doubt jyp’s menacing management staff and their consumerist rhetoric made the cut. it’s one in a list of a million reasons why chan stands out to me, why i know he’s so much more than he lets on. because for all that jyp entertainment tried to force jisung to his knees, chan only needed to ask. 

aside from raging against the machine as all good virgos do, jisung is- how do i put this? jisung’s really fucking smart, in the way only virgos (and scorpios!) ever are. like okay, no lie. the kid’s this close to being a genius. whenever they play games based in deceit or lying, jisung can play them under the table. remember when i said jisung’s got an emotional intelligence that’s off the charts? this is an example of that. he knows his teammates better than they know themselves because he spends every waking hour of his day paying attention to them. i’ve noticed this with most of the “mood-makers” in kpop. their role is to keep the pulse of the group up and racing, and that means they need to know how each one of their teammates is feeling, regardless of whether he’s hiding it or not. jisung needs to have his teammates’ tells so thoroughly intuited that he can read them from the other end of a stage during a black-out between performances. that’s his job. so of course he’s a virgo, because he needs that virgo intuition and logic, the ability to fill in the gaps on the heel of a dime. to know in the hair’s width of time before the commercial break ends and they’re back on the air, if jisung needs to draw the spotlight because hyunjin’s feeling a little bit ganged up on by the hosts or chan’s voice is starting to give a little. to smooth out the edges, hide their rough edges under a veil. because that’s what he does, and that’s what he’ll always do. cover for his teammates. hold them up the only way he knows how. 

they make a pretty formidable trio, don’t you think? between seungmin’s brutal honesty, yongbok’s stubbornness, and jisung’s wit, i imagine the three of them get what they want. that’s how virgos are. they expect more and they expect better and they do not take shit from anyone. if a virgo thinks that they’re right, there is a zero percent chance that you will get your way. it will save everyone involved time, energy, and effort to give in and acquiesce. otherwise, you’re facing an uphill battle that you will not win. not with one virgo, and certainly not with three. i honestly pity the rest of stray kids. no one does stubborn quite like an earth sign. 

they are also, quite bluntly, essential to the team. stray kids are eight pieces of one whole, and the virgo line take up a pretty considerable fraction of that whole. without their support, be it through seungmin’s fierce and brambled comfort, yongbok’s soft and humble warmth, or jisung’s quick-thinking, stray kids would implode. there’s a reason there are earth signs in every kpop group—they’re the ones with their shit together. they’re the ones that keep everyone else’s shit together, either through nagging or just brute force. they are the grounding weight, the support net. smart, sharp, ever-aware, to show up on top of their game. stray kids’ virgos are nonstop. they’ll keep it together, keep their team together, if it fucking kills them. 

you know how it is. different circus, same clowns. - @hexglyphs 

[ograndebatata]

EoA Appreciation Week - Day 1 - Magic (2/3)

Well... to whoever is interested, here is the second ficlet I wrote for Day 1 of the EoA Appreciation Week on Discord.

To get the full appreciation of it, I recommend you to read part 1, which you can find here: https://ograndebatata.tumblr.com/post/186969423609/eoa-appreciation-week-day-1-magic-13

But it can be read on its own. 

To fill you in on the basics, this fic, like all of my Elena of Avalor and Sofia the First fics (unless specifically stated otherwise) takes place in my Tales of the Ever Realm AU. For more information on that, please go here: https://ograndebatata.tumblr.com/post/185329200654/fair-warning-to-my-followers-from-the-elena-of

Once more, I tried my best to make this ficlet strong enough to stand on its own.

I hope you enjoy it.

Summary:  In the midst of a threat to Avalor, Olivia decides to take extra lessons from an unexpected ally to Elena and Mateo. But she quickly realizes there may be more to her new teacher than meets the eye.

Please check below the cut for the actual ficlet...

Snippets of Spells - Unexpected Deeds

13 years old

Maybe she should have thought better about this.

At least, that was Olivia's opinion as she stood in the palace's courtyard, trying her best to sustain the golden-orange magical shield she had put up for the last part of her magic placement test, and which she had to have been keeping up for at least five minutes now, under the attentive eyes of her second magic teacher as he walked in circles around her.

Sure, she had been the one volunteering to learn under him as well, and the one who had to persuade her parents to let her do it, and the one who had agreed to let them attend the lesson with her. But now, as said magic teacher scrutinized her work, she couldn't help but feel her heart pounding with fear. Even though he was not as skeletal as before, and was no longer wearing his hair in that slicked-back, pointed look, just knowing who he was made him look threatening by default.

But he was not 'acting threatening', and she knew she couldn't afford to look scared in front of him anyway. All stories she read said that villains sniffed out weaknesses like bloodhounds, and she had no reason to think that would be unrealistic. Even if said man really was not a villain anymore, it was best not to take risks.

Unaware of her thoughts - or simply not caring about them - Fiero stopped after taking another turn around her shield.

"You can let it down now," he told her as he raised his clipboard.

Olivia pretended she hadn't heard him as he raised his free hand and pointed his index finger at the clipboard. A bolt of magic shot out of his index finger and started moving all over the page, as if it was writing something on the paper.

She held back a frown. Even Mateo couldn't do wandless magic very well yet. If Fiero was better than Mateo at this, just how many more things could he actually be better than Mateo at?

The bolt vanished as Fiero lowered his clipboard and looked back at her.

"I said you can let it down now," he insisted, although his voice remained as calm as before.

Her eyes narrowing, Olivia lowered her shield, her breathing deeper than usual. Shield spells weren't usually difficult to keep up for a bit, but she had never kept one for that long. If Fiero decided to turn on her, she'd be in trouble. Sure, her parents were sitting close by with crossbows they looked all too ready to use on him, but she didn't want to find out if they'd be quick enough to stop him.

But Fiero wasn't making any aggressive gestures. Instead, he looked strangely thoughtful, as if thinking about what to say and the best way to say it. In a way, it looked too much like the face Mateo would make when he did the same, only on a much older face with much sharper features.

Eventually, he asked, "You said you are an apprentice to the boy?"

Her eyes narrowed further, and her hand which wasn't holding the tamborita curled into a fist.

"His name is Mateo."

There was no change in Fiero's expression at her words.

"He taught you surprisingly well for such a young teacher," the malvago went on.

"He's more than good enough to have defeated you twice," Olivia snapped, her voice coming out unexpectedly raspy from her heavy breathing.

"Which proves he knows that raw power and skill with magic aren't everything," Fiero replied, now with a touch of respect to his voice as his features seemed to soften the tiniest bit. "A lesson all wizards and malvagos should keep in mind. Myself included."

This time, Olivia couldn't help a puzzled expression. It hadn't been the kind of comment she would have expected from him. While in some ways it seemed Fiero was calling himself the superior wizard, he was also calling Mateo better than him in some ways. She wouldn't have expected that.

But then, a flicker of fear bloomed in her. From his words, it sounded as if Fiero really had been holding back in both his battles against Mateo. A suspicion Mateo himself had had since the malvago's unexpected reappearance. If it really turned out that he was lying about wanting to help them, they'd be in big trouble.

"Something the matter?" Fiero asked, again with an edge of seemingly genuine emotion - this time concern - in his voice.

There was a blur of movement behind Olivia, and she could tell that her parents were both taking a menacing step forward. But Fiero didn't even blink at them.

Searching her mind for something to say in response to Fiero's question, Olivia managed to ask, "Are you insinuating I'll be a malvaga? Because I'll never be a malvaga!"

She spoke the last sentence as if she was throwing a spear, but again, Fiero didn't wince. But this time, there was an actual change in his expression, if an unexpected one. Rather than glaring or scoffing at her, a strange bitterness came over his features.

"I hope not," he stated.

And for some reason, it sounded like he meant it.

Then, his eyes widened as if he'd caught his robe about to fall down in front of a crowd and was hastily trying to keep it up.

"You can take a break for half an hour while I plan your class," he told her. "Then we can begin."

Unsure of what else to say or do, Olivia went back to her parents as Fiero raised his clipboard again, both her father and her mother visibly loosening. Neither lowered their crossbows, but both put the safety on their weapon.

Again, Olivia wondered how much good these crossbows would be if Fiero decided to turn on them. After all, he had the reputation of being the most dangerous malvago in Avalor. But it had been her parents' condition for her when she had wanted him to also be her magic teacher, and she couldn't help but think they might be needed at a time when other dangerous malvagos were threatening the kingdom.

And to be fair to him, Fiero had already saved many of them once, herself included. So it seemed possible he was being genuine.

Olivia only hoped for two things.

For one, that Fiero was really being sincere in his wish to help them and turn over a new leaf.

For another, that his help would be enough to get them through the latest threat the kingdom was dealing with.

[enigmaincrimson]

To be honest, I don’t know how else to put this, but... I really suck at making starters or explaining what is going on right now without making things worse than they are.

Like... there’s this person I know... they’re doing that “money for commissions” thing in the earlier post that I know is wrong, but I can’t warn them because well... they’re still fuming over something I’ve supposedly done two years back. As far as I know is that I tend to ramble too much when it comes to plotting and that bothers some people.

The other case is well... I’m not entirely sure what is going on there since last year there was an information leak from what should have been a safe Discord server onto Tumblr awhile back. Of course, I got kicked off that server over what happened and blamed for the aftermath, but the culprit is still running around passing rumors and pinning it on me whenever someone gets dragged into it. However, due to the recent gaslighting trend of erasing conversations in IM... I can’t prove a thing and can only say the person pretty much wants to start another Tumblr war like what happened some time ago.

Side note... a Tumblr “war” is more of a Lynch mob where a bunch of people just plain attack a person and everyone they partner with. They’re ugly, cruel, and never really resolves anything other than a lot of hard feelings, opportunists dragging stuff along for their own gain, and paranoia.

The last one I remember basically involved people coming up with excuses to throw rocks, people throwing rocks at them so they’d throw more rocks. Callout posts, hate mail, and more filled with word salad pulled from a dictionary, people pretending to be supporters of the victims and antagonizing the former on purpose in order to get back at the victims for some slight, and... everyone else wondering what in the heck was going on.

I’m having a terrible time describing it, but that bit of stupidity could be pretty much traced back to a harmless post about the room layout in a dormitory from a video game. A certain popular roleplayer apparently decided that it was triggering and threw a bit of a fit... their “friends’ and wannabe “friends” came rushing in all at once.

As for the third party that kept things rolling... well... they were mad because a bunch of people reported them for harassment and decided to take it out on me for it. That and they wanted to collect URLs for trophies and rub it in later, so they’d pretend to be me or someone I knew and sent those other people hate mail so they’d feel more justified and continue the attacks.

Another time a “professional” roleplayer decided that I was an eyesore and started harassing and stalking me on Tumblr because they wanted me to off myself. Not that they were the first time someone’s decided that I was a menace for just showing up somewhere or the last.

That person would steal threads, hijack posts, write call outs, and more while their partners would just... let them do it. They’d literally chase me from one blog to the next and keep on going. I’d block and they’d just use another one of their blogs to continue the harassment.

The only clear “crime” I got out of that person was that I used a “canon faceclaim” for my muse.

Several other roleplayers were godmodders that were upset because I told them that they couldn’t edit my muse however they pleased. They’d throw giant fits and tell all of my partners in their fandom to not to do anything with me because I told them No.

I got chased out of another fandom because I had to explain to someone that I couldn’t give them my personal information. A certain group of roleplayers has been going around and harassing people with female muses for M!A smut, and the mun was getting rather frayed. Any attempts I had in trying to help only got thrown back in my face with the word “Toxic” repeated over again in big letters.

I got kicked out of another fandom because I was worried about the other person and tried to apologize for my actions. However, I apparently asked the wrong person for help in that situation and it bombed terribly.

I’ve been kicked out of a completely unrelated fandom once for wanting to do something other than the same plot over and over again. It didn’t help that they insisted that they had “no rules” which didn’t make any sense to me.

I ended under attack in another case because I wouldn’t sell out my muse for smut. the whole situation was plain strange and creepy.

Another case I was under attack for restricting Magic Anons. That same group is the one that was harassing those other muns over similar things.

I could keep going, but generally... I really don’t know how to articulate this mess and even if there was proof I don’t want to go back in there looking for it.

I’m terrible at explaining things anyway and well... I am very upset at the moment if you haven’t guessed.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card!

My friend and I7-suffering pal @nehamerchant123 (wow Tumblr thanks for sucking even more than a character in an André Gide novel) requested the Izumi brothers + “Big Brother Instinct” (the very reason why I picked it in my form, sorry not sorry)! Knowing me and my tendency to write Izumi bro angst, she went there and I went there lmao.

Content warnings: obsessive fan behaviour/stalking (inspired by Kpop stans and other fandoms) and spoilers up to IDOLiSH7 Part 2 Chapter 1. If you want to go unspoiled into the second season, I’d advise you not to read this one.

Edge of the Razor

Summary: All fans aren't nice people, and all breaks aren't nice to take. (Or: someone isn't happy about how her favorite idols are going, and decides to act upon it. With a weapon.)

Fandom: IDOLiSH7 Relationships: Iori & Mitsuki

Wordcount: 2.8K words

Event organized by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

Being the older sibling was sometimes tougher than single children would expect at first glance. It was a life filled with fears and anxiety: expectations, duties, goals and being a role model were all part of the course one couldn’t be responsible for being a part of.

Usually, it was mundane things: tell your little siblings not to let go off your hand when they’re very small when you’re in a crowd, speak to them about growing up and puberty, show them the ropes of the fun stuff your parents wouldn’t tell you about… and feel like a failure when you see them be better than you in every single field you’ve ever stepped a foot in.

Well, perhaps that last thing wasn’t every older sibling’s reality, but it sure had been Mitsuki’s ever since his little brother could do as much as talk.

 A lot of people would have rather talked about Iori than about him. The former was everything a parent would want to raise: easily disciplined, wise beyond his years, good at everything school-related and outside of school too, mature and sharp. There was no way around it: Iori was simply a much, much better version of him.

That didn’t prevent Mitsuki from having a few issues with him. That kid would always meddle with his dream of becoming an idol or with, well, everything! Baking? Oh, it’d be better if you did that. Redecorating his room? It’d be handier if you placed the furniture that way instead. Practicing dancing and singing for the next audition he’d fail anyway? Perhaps you should watch that idol unit before, if you listened closer to the song, etc, etc. It was hard not to get fed up with this after a while.

 However, that was all petty banter these days, right? He had achieved his dream: being an idol. He didn’t even have to throw Iori under the hype train as he did so: they had both gotten in, in the same unit. The world was finally smiling on him, didn’t it? About time! That meant the kid could stop meddling with his dream or, at least, it wouldn’t be as noticeable as it used to be.

In fact, they had bonded over being part of this unit again. Mitsuki had finally been able to be the big brother he had always sought to be, comforting his sibling when he forgot to sing and triggering one of their biggest group hugs to this day. It had been better for their relationship, but alas, being an idol was a risky occupation and he would rediscover that soon enough.

 The centre switch had been… quite the event, to say the least. This had created a rift in the middle of their fanbase: there were centre Riku fans, centre Iori fans, fans who wanted to see other members be the centre instead… It seemed like their “Perfection Gimmick” setup truly hadn’t pleased everyone, as temporary as it was. Anxiety had settled among their ranks because of that, but they decided to stick together and get through the storm united.

However, that wasn’t the case for their fanbase, and it was made abundantly clear on forums and video comments alike. They could get violent at times against each other, but also against the members themselves. It was all verbal violence, of course.

Or was it just words spelt out in cold letters on phone and computer screens?

 It had all seemed kind of surreal to them, for the first few days of this ongoing switch. It just felt like having some nasty comments about some of them, albeit there was already some discord between them because of it. It’d get better, right? They couldn’t disband from just some dissatisfied fans’ reactions to a sudden change. It’d be fine.

Perhaps Mitsuki had believed in their fans too much. He had always seen them as the nice middle school girls from the plaza or the young women having supported them since their very beginnings for some of them. They had to be nice people who would understand. Right? Well, he’d have to soon revise that judgement.

 Going undercover in the streets wasn’t too uncommon for them. They’d wear paper-thin disguises, sure, and some fans would recognize them, but they usually didn’t get into much troubles when they did so. It was a way to remember they were still humans and that this adventure could, sadly, stop suddenly at any given moment if they weren’t careful enough. It was a tough life he was always ready to face.

Fame came with that price of being recognized in the streets, after all. It usually was a pleasant experience: exchanging quick words with fans, taking selfies, getting some precious (and direct) feedback was anything but bad for them. Alas, there were times where it wasn’t the case. Times Mitsuki honestly didn’t want to believe could happen to them.

 It seemed to be a regular afternoon. He was out with Iori to buy the guys some drinks during a training session, nothing out of the ordinary. It was calm outside, not much going on even for a school-less day, everything was just fine, wasn’t it?

They had come across a couple fans, some of which hadn’t noticed them, when one of them seemed insistent in particular. That was displeasing to see: being followed around was an annoyance at first, then a chore, then turned into full-on creepy behaviour. Mitsuki had to say something: if Iori’s face indicated anything, it was that he felt uncomfortable, yet was determined to make it to the agency without causing a fuss. Too calm for his own good, huh.

 “Hey, you!” Mitsuki bolted in that creep’s direction once and for all. “What’s your deal?! You’re being a creep!!”

“Big brother,” Iori put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t scream like that. We’ll get in trouble.”

“We’re already in trouble,” the older sibling replied before looking back at the third wheel. “Stop following us around like that! We’re humans too, y’know!”

The chick, a black-haired and brown-eyed teenage girl around Iori’s age, simply stared at the latter in silence.

“If you don’t leave us alone, we’re gonna call the cops on you!”

 Despite all the threats he’d make, Mitsuki had to admit something: it didn’t goddamn work! Why was she being such a creepo anyway?! Did she get off to that shit in secret or what? Words didn’t work: perhaps it was time to simply call anyone to act on her. Standing here speaking menacingly wouldn’t do anything.

Taking a glance at her showed she was a huge Riku fan: her phone’s charm, her keychains, her jacket’s pins and her purse’s zippers all were showing Riku’s face or a red double sharp. If she was a Riku fanatic like that, why was she following them? It had to do with Iori, sure, but was it any positive or negative? In such times…

It had very little chance to be any positive.

 “I don’t want you to be the centre,” she said in a monotonous voice, staring right into the younger idol’s eyes.

“That’s an opinion shared by a lot of fans,” Iori tried to calm the game down. “I’m afraid this will last for a bit longer. I never intended and still don’t intend on replacing Nanase forever.”

“Too honest for his own kind” wasn’t an exact match, in this situation. Mitsuki could easily see Iori was speaking that way exactly because he was afraid and under pressure rather than because he wanted to apologize. The fact they were trapped by walls in a small street didn’t help.

“I don’t care about that! You should have never been centre in the first place! You’re nothing compared to my sweet Riku!! I don’t want to see you in his place!!”

That must had hit Iori somewhere, considering the distorted expression on his face. He’d have usually tried to remain calm in face of such a situation.

“Hey,” Mitsuki attempted to chime in, “c’mon now! That’s just mean! Iori’s trying his best you know!”

“Well, if he’s tried, then he’s fucked up,” she simply replied as she went to grab something in her bag. The older idol was this close to grab the pepper spray bottle he always had in his sweat’s pocket. That was becoming too dangerous.

 The chick pulled out a fucking cutter from her bag and pointed it at Iori, holding it like it was the harmful weapon she intended to use it as on them.

“Are you fucking mad?!” Mitsuki let out in a scream, hoping people would hear him too.

“Sometimes, you gotta do what you have to do,” she simply replied as she got closer to his brother’s throat. “Some people just won’t go away.”

 Okay, she was completely nuts. There was no way reasoning her. It wasn’t Mitsuki’s forte to be a third party anyway: his blood was boiling and he was retaining the urge to insult her because he was in public and in certain danger in this very situation. Iori didn’t seem like he wanted to be a mediator to such a situation: there were big drops of sweat pearling all over his temples.

“That’s enough! Get away from us, you fuckin’ psycho!!” Mitsuki attempted one last time to threaten her, using his deepest voice and harshest tone for this, but she still didn’t budge. She kept glaring at Iori with these menacing eyes.

 She launched herself off her feet with the cutter clenched in her hand, heading straight for the throat, clutching her teeth. Despite her inhuman velocity, Mitsuki had managed to leap into the fight before she could, preventing the knife from reaching Iori’s throat. It was dangerous and reckless, but his self-survival instinct had shut down as soon as he saw his brother having a real chance to die here and there, in this dark corner of a street to a fucking psycho.

 The cutter’s direction didn’t change much, though: when he slapped her hand out of that way, she instead opted for Iori’s broader chest area. In the confusion and heat of the moment, Mitsuki had fallen to the ground, taking her with him as he made her slip using his legs to sweep her off her feet. He would defend his brother to the very end and she needed to get that ingrained insider that little stalker brain of hers.

When he looked up, he noticed red dripping to the ground, right onto his hair and, soon, face. She had pulled the cutter out of a newfound wound. She had managed to cut his brother in the chest, deep enough for it to already be pouring out blood, right between his left arm and what he could assume to be his fucking heart. Iori’s breathing had heaved enough for it to be noticeable.

He wouldn’t forgive her for this.

 Mitsuki got up quickly, jumping to his feet, telling his brother to please muster up his strength and call an ambulance and the police or something. They were in a fucking pinch and she was insane enough to remain there after stabbing someone like that. It was even worse than that, in fact: when he glared at her, trying to keep his punches to himself, he noticed she was clutching onto the blooded blade and had that… crazed expression in her bloodshot eyes. She was clearly enjoying this.

“What’s the fuck is wrong with you?!” he screamed again, needing to let all that steam getting to his head. “How can you be happy about doing that?!”

“You don’t get it! I’m making Ainana better!”

“It’s just about whatever Ainana you wanna see?! There’s something missing inside that head of yours!”

 The psycho titled her head and stared at him as if he had been nonsensical all along.

“Stay out of my way.”

“Fuck no! I don’t tolerate killing people” around here!!”

His blood was boiling inside his veins.

“Why are you this angry? I’m just making things better. Ainana doesn’t need… that as their centre. Nor as a member.”

“Who are you calling that?! Iori?!”

 Something snapped inside his skull.

“We’re not objects! You can’t just decide to one day attempt murdering one of us just because we made a centre switch! For fuck’s sake, do you think of us as just props to amuse people?! You’ve been treating Iori as a fucking item all that time!! You’ve injured someone just for some idol unit!”

As much as Mitsuki loved being an idol and was an avid fan of the idol universe, this was fucking bullshit and he wouldn’t stand for this. She needed to understand and fucking pay.

 She clutched her cutter.

“You really don’t get it.”

“Why don’t I fucking get? You don’t make any sense!”

“He isn’t needed.”

“He is Iori, right?”

“Yes.”

 Something snapped even harder, the anger becoming a pounding heart and boiling thoughts of wanting to see that chick taste the floor already. It had gone from fiery and burning to strangely calm.

“I don’t give a damn if you think Iori’s unneeded. Nobody does, in fact. Our parents don’t. Our friends don’t. Other fans don’t. His classmates don’t. We have a life and you can’t just decide to end my brother’s life end like that just because you don’t like him as a centre or something. I won’t let you kill my brother in the name of some bullshit principle.”

Tears started to appear.

“You don’t get it. You don’t get why a brother would defend his sibling. You’re that unsympathetic and awful? You want me to watch not only a comrade die in front of me, but also my little brother?! Go fuck yourself, that ain’t happening on my watch!!”

 As psycho as she was, she was really fucking stupid: from the side of his view, he could see Iori had called the cops all along, his other hand resting on the cut he had taken to the chest, white shirt getting tinted in reds. His eyes were starting to get unfocused.

Fuck. This was turning into a disaster, and this bitch was still fucking ready to kill them both while she was at it.

 Before he could even think about it, as soon as he saw her get a more forward glance, he leaped at her, making her slam the ground as he pinned her. That wasn’t before she had her chance at getting a hit on him: the pain of getting stabbed right under his ribs in his fall was late to arrive. He kept a scream inside, shaking her hand with his so she’d drop her goddamn weapon already.

When she did, he allowed himself to just grab and get up from her. She had been knocked out by the shock anyway, her head having slammed the ground just as hard as her back had. Stumbling on his own feet, Mitsuki fell to the floor, back against a wall, right next to Iori sitting next to him.

 “Where… where are the cops…?” he asked, voice weakened.

“Near enough for me to hear some sirens,” Iori replied with what sounded like a cautious tone, before looking at him again. “Big brother, how are you?”

At this question, Mitsuki scoffed. “Isn’t the answer obvious…? I just got stabbed… That hurts like hell…”

“I had figured… I didn’t know the centre switch would upset people this badly…”

“Nah, it’s more than just some Riku-obsessed asshole… That girl was just psycho at that point… Don’t even try blaming this fiasco all on you, Iori…”

“Then on who?”

“Her, entirely her…”

 Despite the utter pain and the discomforting feeling of having your blood drained by an injury, he still managed to speak. He needed to keep Iori and himself awake until help arrived.

“Y’know, you can let yourself speak like someone injured. I can tell you’re trying to sound solid, but you’re zoning out… Just speak to me for now, okay?”

His brother’s unfocused eyes turned to him again.

“Did you know she could injure you?”

“Who wouldn’t? She was armed and had already hit you…”

“So you jumped to…” His face distorted as he seemed to have realized something horrific, “…protect me? Why?”

“You’re still asking? Because I’m your big brother, that’s all… It’s my mission to protect my younger sibling, isn’t it…?”

 Mitsuki gave his little brother a weak smile, yet the biggest he could make, which got met by tears and  a sudden embrace. It was weak, kind of awkward in that regard, but the emotion was there and so was the intention.

“Heh, Iori… don’t cry… It’ll be fine…”

No direct response. Silence was enough. As long as neither of them would go cold, it’d be just fine.

 Red and blue lights soon drowned the scene as people barged into the scene. Impossible to hear or see anything decently. Oh well, it was all over now.

It’d be fine.

[alvvayspure-blog]

hello & good evening everyone ! my name is monse, and i have been awarded the privilege of writing with you. this is bellatrix ( bella, for short ) and so under the cut you’ll be able to find more details about her. here you can find her pinterest board and her musings blog. // EDIT: i love plotting, and chances are that i’ll be down to write mostly anything. i’d love to flesh out connections, i’m super chill with going witht he flow, i’m happy to write your own plot ideas -- like i said, i’m happy to write a lot of things ! i’ll be contacting you ( probs tomorrow ??? ) but still, if you’d like for us to plot, HIT ME UP ! feel free to send something through the ask box or tumblr dms, or discord ( monse / bella 🕷#7358 )

* △ — the dark lord has targeted [ BELLATRIX BLACK ] !  the muggles say she holds resemblance to [ CRYSTAL REED ]. the [ 29 ] year old [ CIS-FEMALE ] was [ SKILLFUL &  PERSEVERANT ] before the war, but have now become [ MALICIOUS & UNBALANCED ]. though they were once a part of [ SLYTHERIN ], they have now taken up the position of a [ METAL CHARMER ]. whispers throughout the ministry claim that the [ PUREBLOOD ] is actually [ A DEATH EATER ], but i wouldn’t report that to the daily prophet.

                                                                                    𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆...  

( THE BASICS )

.—  name: bellatrix black

.— age: 29 years old

.—  wand: 12¾", walnut, with a core of dragon heartstring

.— profession: metal charmer working at some dodgy establishment in magical london. however, it’s a mere mask used to keep suspicions away -- the only ‘position’ she dedicates herself to is that of a death eater, she’s fully committed to the group.

.— amortentia: humidity, copper, old wood

.— height: 1.73

.— gender: cis-gender female

.— sexuality: pansexual demiromantic ( but closeted due to her family’s beliefs )

.—  previous house: slytherin.

.— boggart: the two most important male figures in her life ( her father & her master ) being disappointment at her

.—  patronus: * is unable to produce one *

( THE AESTHETIC )

.— moonlight seeping in through dark curls ; black velvet ; sharp citrus perfume ; bruised and bloody knuckles ; ‘you’re better than them’ muttered into a young girl’s ear as her mother combs her hair ; laughter echoing down a dimly lit hall; dark shades of lipstick ; wood burning in a fireplace ; smirks that whisper ‘i know something you never will’ ; cold, empty rooms ; self-made haircuts ; thunderstorms ; a hatred for all things sweet ; a beckoning void ; dimly lit alleyways ; taste of copper in the mouth ; mysterious knocks in the middle of the night ; curling your hands into fists to keep the tears from falling ; a sheltered heart ; the chilling glint of a pair of eyes amidst the darkness ; your father’s daughter ; ‘you’re purer than them ’ ; heels hitting the elegant marble floors ; ignoring opinions foreign to your own ; a mother’s disappointed looks ; boxes and boxes of jewels that will rot away with rust ; the smell of the burning tapestry on the wall ; deceitful grins ; ‘i’m better than them’ ; treasuring the sister you’ve got left as though she’d been the only one from the beginning ; feeling as though there were something lurking in the shadows ; a starless charcoal night sky ; inked skin ; power’s taste so fresh and addictive on the tongue ; mocking thoughts and voices clouding one’s mind right before going to bed ; a child infected by her parents ambitious ; bottles and bottles of liquor kept inside the night table drawer ; ringed agile fingers with ; black lace ; dead flowers ; and candles on bedside table ; the smell of incense ; the half-moons engraved on the palms ; eyes that were raised never to cry ; talk back, get slapped ; long dark gowns ; ‘ always pure, always better ’ ; wicked sisterly love ; unparalleled devotion ; blood before family.

( THE HEADCANONS )

.— you were the firstborn, the eldest daughter, the one to set the examples. that didn’t mean your parents’ slaps on the cheek and disappointed gazes hurt any less. you came first, and although many would think it’s the firstlings who experience new parents’ clumsy mistakes, this wasn’t your case - you were modeled after what your parents believed in, shaped to their liking by feeding you their wicked ideology like it was gospel. they vowed to raise you as perfectly as possible, and perfect was pure. “don’t mingle with them, bella. you’re better than them,” your mother said to you over and over, and although young, you were perfectly able to see past the soft, motherly tone and absorb the warning, the so-called ‘truth’ you’d follow later on in your life. your upbringing was stained by opulence and wealth, your family displaying you and your sisters like rosy-cheeked porcelain dolls. your father’s daughter, you became far too much like him. your youth was not yours, but his and your mother’s to mold like clay. you frequented balls and events with your family, gatherings you’d never care for or worry over. this was the only good you knew, the only truth, so you never blamed them for what you turned out to be, for what they turned you into. much too absorbed by the mirk, your distraught urges caught up with you - but you let them. you let your shadow friends embrace you and carry you. the darkness was light to you - so tempting, so satisfying to the touch, so addictive -,  and so you’d eventually make your home amidst the fog.

.— ever since you were young, you’ve always shown brilliant skills in whatever it is that caught your attention. your parents enrolled you in violin, harp, and piano lessons. it was a matter of a handful of years before you were playing like the most prodigious of musicians. you mastered italian and french, and calligraphy. you began displaying signs of magic at an early age - flickering lights, shattering vases with a look -, and so your parents could not be prouder at the sight. you’d always been talented, skillful, and determined to excel at whatever you got your hands on, so it was only expected of you to thrive during the time you were to study at hogwarts. you had an enviable knack for charms and transfiguration. admittedly, your parents never doted nor coddled, but you found pride and fulfillment in the envy projected by your fellow classmates’ eyes. your mother’s words were a self-fulfilled prophecy: you were better than them, after all. 

.— you couldn’t shrug off that mixture of frustration and confusion when you first managed to boil a successful amortentia potion. your classmates were in awe, describing scents like poppy flowers, cinnamon bread, cardamom – all you smelled was humidity. similar to the scent of moist soil, you couldn’t help but feel perplexed at the scent. it seemed miserable, dull. you managed to pick up other smells - old wood, like the one your family’s piano was made of, and copper – you were annoyed, mostly because you couldn’t comprehend what these scents indicated, and secondly, because you felt as though they lead you nowhere. to this day, the smells haven’t changed, yet you’re still puzzled by it.

.— you’ve been known as one to have a short-temper, but nothing had set you off like the inability to produce a corporeal patronus did. you felt the others’ gazes engraved on you as you tried and tried to achieve it during class, each attempt more frustrating than the previous one. you took in a deep breath each time. your mind always projected an image of your family - so noble, so strong, the only support you knew and had -, of your mother. you saw her singing to you as you practiced the piano, yet the memory soon became bitter, as it was followed by her getting upset at your mistakes and scolding you to no end. you thought of your father, the powerful, intelligent man he was and the massive shadow he cast on your path, yet all you could think of were his words about those less pure than you, words expressed at every gathering, words him and his inner circle constantly shared and nourished you with. you thought of your sisters, of andy and cissy, the three of you playing outside your family home. nothing seemed to be enough, and so after what seemed like an infinite number of attempts, you ended up throwing your wand across the room. many years later you tried, the first two memories resurfacing and soon becoming stained by the torment that followed those moments, yet you landed in the same place. now you couldn’t think of your siblings without feeling disgust for andromeda take over you, her carelessness, stupidity, and stubbornness costing you a sister. the image of her would be forever stained, and so you found yourself out of memories to use to try cast the spell effectively. you treasured your youth, you weren’t raised an unhappy child – were you? you told this to yourself over and over, and for a couple of moments, it eased the sting of pain failure had left you with.

.— a boggart managed to sneak into the garden adjacent to your family’s house one afternoon, while you and your sisters were out enjoying the pleasant weather. it hid behind a nearby bush, catching your attention. you didn’t scream when you saw, you simply froze, too consumed by fear to move or make a sound: you saw your father’s figure, with bloodshot eyes that showed the clearest shades of disappointment and hatred, his head shaking in discontent. “i thought we’d compromised, bella,” he said, approaching you in a way you found menacing and terrifying. “i thought we’d agreed you’d do your part…” and right then, the monster before lounged forwards, making you lose your balance and fall down. the creature seemed confused, changing form in a tornado-like way, and it was until you turned to look at one of your sisters, who had just approached and had managed to throw the boggart off. you shrugged off their worried inquiries and pushed the memory to the recondite of your mind. years later, however, the two of you met again: it’d hidden in an old, dusty closet, and so as you unknowingly went to open the door, the figure stepped outside. it wasn’t your father anymore, however. it was a different silhouette, with different features, the creature no longer taking after the man who’d fathered you. it was no stranger, and this time, you found yourself slipping and crawling away from it in the most pathetic manner. you whimpered like an injured animal as tears welled up in your eyes. “i thought we’d compromised, bella,” it was the same sentence you’d heard as a teenager, that day in the garden with your sisters, but before stood the man you’d developed a fascination toward, the man who’d managed to corrupt you more than your family ever did, the man who’d implanted himself amidst your thoughts and ideas, the man you were completely and utterly devoted to, the man you referred to as your lord. the distorted features showed you nothing but disapproval and discontent, the pale, waxy skin glimmering and planting fear in your heart in a way you’d never experience. you sobbed until a foreign noise sent it storming out of the room, your limbs still shriveling. 

.— there must be something in the water, or rather, in the way children of the black and lestrange families are raised, something that plants in them an attraction to the dark. despite having a seemingly-calm exterior throughout your earliest years, you always knew there was darkness inside of you. like a void holding what you desired the most, whispering to catch your attention and draw you in, you grew up with a fascination with matters that were too complex and far too obscure for a girl your age. your family made no effort to cease these thoughts, but rather, they fostered them, encouraging you to believe in exactly the same things as they did: purity and destruction. it was a matter of time before your malice bloomed - you were shoving your playmates aside, finding amusement in their suffering; you’d stare at the hues in the bruises and scratches you gave yourself in fights and duels, much too amazed at the unnerving yet pulchritudinous allure. it was the force and power you exercised over others, the thought of your judgment determining their state and place, that what you’d always lacked and thus that you could not resist upon getting the opportunity to experience. it was the electricity to the pain what kept your heart beat fast and your temples pounding & what caused you to develop a tolerance and fascination for it. you’d find ways to entertain yourself and encourage the growth of this evil within you, and so it was no surprise you joined the death eaters upon leaving hogwarts.  

( MISC. )

character inspirations: anakin skywalker ( star wars ), elena de la vega ( zorro ), elizabeth swan ( pirates of the caribbean ), nebula ( guardians of the galaxy ), harley quinn ( dc comics ), o-ren ishii and gogo yubari ( kill bill ), magenta and riff-raff ( the rocky horror picture show ), count olaf ( asoue )

TO BE CONTINUED...

[okimargarvez]

WHEN THEY FIRST MET- Rossi

Original title: When they first met.

Prompt: writing challenge.

Warning: none.

Genre: family, romantic, comedy, friendship.

Characters: all members of BAU team, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot (collection of individual tales of each member, except for Walker).

Legend: 💑💏😘😈👓🔦🎲🎈👻⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

When They First Met- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

*Rossi: Bet

Penelope hesitates for a moment, then takes courage and throws herself out the window. Fortunately, there are only a few meters and touches down without problems in the garden. She waits a few seconds, expecting to see the front door of her house open and her father get out. But this not happened, and with a slight sense of guilt, she walks along the way, until a red car reaches her. She opens the door and greets the driver.

-Hi...- she tries to resume breathing at a regular pace.

-Hi... you're fine?- he turns a second to look at her. -Are you nervous for the party?- she chuckles in response.

-Not for the party ...- but for someone who will be there... is the implicit continuation of the sentence. It still seems unbelievable that Mark, the most desired of her school, has asked her for a date. But her parents hadn't given her permission because it was a bad time, some boys had been kidnapped and found a few days later, dead. It certainly the work of a serial killer. They were frightened and behaved such, because they cared her... but all this would never have entered the head of a teenager struggling with her first serious crush.

The young man behind the wheel nods, hiding his real thoughts behind a slight smile. He can't explain why, but he has a bad feeling. Mark is his best friend and until a few days ago, he had never even nominated Penelope. Then yesterday he instructed him to pick her up and take her to his house. It's clear as day that the blonde likes his friend a lot. He has great doubts about the reciprocity of this feeling.

In any case they reach the goal. They are greeted by a big mess: music  blaring forth at full volume. Neighbors will surely have to object. She makes her way and as soon as the young woman sees her goal, her gaze lights up and she completely forgets her accompanist.

-Hey, you finally arrived!- the blond guy, who might look like her brother, smiles. The another stand aside and continues to hear a discordant note, something wrong. But he says nothing and lets the chips will fall as they may. Mark takes Penelope by the hand and moves away, towards the upper floor. He knows exactly where he's taking her. And his fears get worse. Especially when he realizes that Calvin is missing.

On the floor above, the boy  doesn't stand on ceremony and starts kissing her. She is over the moon (ignores the vibration of her phone in her pants pocket, probably her parents that bother her), but after a while he begins to get too enterprising. The masculine hands rise from her hips, aiming ever higher. She tries to separate, but the grip is firm.

-No ...- comes out as a faint lament. She seems to hear even a laugh, but it doesn't come from the boy next to her. Which ignores her protests and moves to tinker on her jeans. With all his strength succeeds in enterprise pull away him. -I don't want to. We know each other from... too little time. - she hugs herself. She feels extremely pathetic and childish. -I don't feel right.- unexpectedly, Mark seems doesn't take this the wrong way. He smiles. But then she understands what kind of smile is. There is a certain complacency behind and seems evil... then he turns on the opposite side to her.

-Hey, I said she was still virgin.- the closet opens and it comes out that other guy from curls and red hair, that is always with him and... Luke, that accompanied her here. Even he laughs.

-Shit, my friend, I don't have to bet with you anymore. I'll become poor, at this rate!- they continue to laugh and at the end Penelope understands everything. He has never been interested in her. It was just a stupid bet!

She runs out of the room, almost completely ignored by the two friends. She descends the stairs so quickly that she risks falling and hurting herself. Then, in the middle of the crowd, who is still enjoying the party, she intercepts Luke, which stopping her escape by grabbing her by the shoulders.

-Hey, Penelope, what... - but she doesn't let him end and with an articulated movement she frees herself and starts running again. But she hears the boy's footsteps behind her. And anyway, she's too far from home. And he reminds this at her. -Hey, you can't do all way on foot! Wait for me!- in the end she gives up, without breath, the tears that have completely ruined her makeup. He reaches her. -Penelope, what happened up there? - seems almost seriously worried, but he can't be. He is a friend of Mark and he was definitely agreed with him. After all, he was the one who brought her to the monster. The crush or what was, has vanished in an instant. Suddenly, anger replaces the pain. She turns to him and gives him a push on his chest. Despite being much taller than she, he stumbles slightly.

-As if you didn't know! You...! I can't even find a suitable adjective to define you. You are all bastards! - but the anger it's short and here she is again sobbing. She doesn't even react when she feels the boy's arms finish around her back, much higher than the area where his friend's hands were directed.

-What did Mark do?- Penelope feels the fear in Luke's tone. And she understands what he believes has happened. She comes off, restoring a certain circumspect distance between them. But she is almost tempted to believe him. -Really, Pen, I have no idea what he had in mind... he just told me to come and get you, because he wanted you to be there tonight... - she looks him in the eyes and they seem sincere. She sighs.

-Mark kissed me, but then wanted more and when I said no... he turned to the wardrobe, and said "I told you it was ..."- she hesitates a moment, then decides that at this point, that one more person would know it, don't give a damn. -"...virgin".- she says closing her eyelids to not see the reaction of Luke -And came out Calvin, they laughed, then I ran away.- she finds the courage to reopen the eyes. He is looking at her with a dazed expression. -It was just a bet! But I would have to wait... someone like him... not interested in a girl like me. The cosmos must comply with certain laws, or the world implodes on itself.- Luke is annoyed by this speech, because unlike his best friend jerk, he had noticed Penelope soon enough, the very day when the freshmen were submitted. She was emerged from the other girls for her smile and whole expression, sweet. And just as quickly he had guessed her intelligence, in various collective competitions. But Penelope had never paid attention to him until the day in which hadn't brought her in this house ... with a heavy heart.

-What are you talking about?- he would like to find the courage to tell her that he finds her beautiful, although it's not his opinion what she cares. But Penelope shakes her head. Blonde, smooth and long hair absorb some of the tears.

-It doesn't matter anymore, now. Because I can't live in this world... it's too disgusting. Things will not get better later. It'll always be like this. It might as well I get out of the way before ...- suddenly Luke's hands are on her cheeks. His expression is serious and almost menacing.

-What the hell are you talking about? Just because a fool behaved like a fool...? - for a moment the surprise prevails over all other dark feelings.

-But... he's your best friend ...- Luke shrugs.

-This doesn't mean that he's not an idiot, sometimes... - he seems uncertain whether to continue. -There's better, in the world out there, and I'm sure there are a lot of guys willing to queue to ask you a date... - the first is right here, but you'll never notice.

-You're very nice, but... - while Luke sees the word "friends zone" flashing, the phone left in the pocket starts to vibrate. Penelope extracts it. -It's my father ... - she bites her lip, scared and undecided about what to do, then presses the answer button. -Dad... - she debuts, but in a moment bleaching.

-I'm talking with Miss Penelope?- there is another man, from other end of that phone line. And his professional tone makes her guess everything before he says it.

-Y... yes...- she stutters, not realizing that Luke has remained close and trying to understand what is happening.

-Miss, I'm sorry to inform you that her parents had an accident. They are bringing them to the hospital right now... - the world collapses underfoot. And to think that a moment ago expressed the desire to kill herself. But death isn't to be mocked. It offends itself, and then asks for the bill. She ceases to hear what the caller says.

-Well, thank you... I'll be right over.- the call closes, but she stays in that position for several minutes. Until the boy takes the phone off her hand and brings her back to earth. There's no need to ask her anything. -My parents... accident... hospital ... - she doesn't want to ask him this favor, but doesn't know who else to turn to.

-Now, just tell me where we have to go.- he takes her by the hand. A gesture that he needs, but her too. A gesture of solidarity, strange and unexpected. But it's not the time to ask questions, to wonder about possible unknown meanings. They get in the car, close the doors, fasten their belts and go. He tries to respect as much as possible the code of the road but going as fast as it allowed. Penelope doesn't remember anything of the journey: if Luke has tried to console her with some circumstantial sentence, if he let go of her hand, or rather he kept her hand under his, leaning against the gearbox.

They arrive in front of 'huge building, and he parks. Before entering she hesitates. -I can't do it. I can't do it.- she repeats like a mantra.-It's my fault, if they did this incident. They went out to look for me, I should to stay home... for what... then? To risk being raped by someone who just wanted to laugh at me?- she is about to cry again. He notices that she has dug her nails into her arms. He tries to stop her.

-No, don't say this. You haven't caused the accident... let's go. I'll not leave you alone, you aren't alone, understood?- he gives her a sweet smile. -If you want to cry, scream or punch someone... I'm here.- he is too serious and intense, both his tone and his eyes, so Penelope can't still avoid that question.

-Why are you doing this, Luke? We have hardly ever spoken in four years... you don't have to stay. I got this. I can do it.- but it's not true, and it's evident for both. -Thank you for bringing me here, but... - he takes her by the shoulders, a delicate but firm grip, which has nothing to do with the gestures made by Mark. Then one of his hand goes up towards high, stroking her cheek. Finally, it's placed on the lips, to silence her.

-Stop with these stupid things. I'm here, I wouldn't like to be anywhere else and I'll stay here. Now let's go inside.- It's an order and not a request. -Squeeze my hand when you feel bad, get the strength... - even at a time like that, in the status in which she finds herself, with her mentality as a teenager... she understands the meaning of Luke's words. She nods and lifts up on her toes to place a kiss on the boy's cheek.

-Thank you.- her eyes shine, she doesn't know if he has understood that she knows. In any case, let his fingers intertwine to her hand and finally cross the threshold. They head for the reception, but she doesn't have the force to talking, so he does it in her place. They are call by a doctor. The look is serious, but when it poses on the young couple, it seems to melt into melancholy. Not a good sign.

-Miss, I'm sorry- it's already the second time at least, that an adult tells her this sentence. The grip on Luke's hand becomes louder, until he hurts, planting her nails superficially in his flesh, but he doesn't complain, remaining in his turn, holding his breath waiting for the verdict. -We did everything we could, but your mother had a too much internal bleeding... - there is need to add more details? Penelope puts her free hand in front of her mouth, to prevent herself from shouting. Mum's gone. No more philosophical discussions on books, on any verification that "I would never passed" (and promptly she passed, with high marks), no more obligations to wear her latest creations. Nobody would have taught her to braid her hair.

-Oh God... and dad?- she seems to be back child, to be regressed for decades, to be eight years old, not to be able to conceive that in the world there is death, the end, the disappearance of the one she loves.

-In this moment he is in a pharmacological coma. He is less serious, but has suffered severe head trauma and as soon as he's stabilized, we'll operate.- and yet she doesn0t feel able to breathe a sigh of relief. The doctor after providing other information goes away. Penelope knows she should go to the room reserved all morgue to see her mother, but can't do it, always with that childish belief that until she sees it, it’ll not be real at all. But she can't even go to see her father and she feels powerless. Not lonely, though. Because her hand is still in Luke's, the boy who a few hours before it was only "Mark's friend" that would bring her from him, the one who liked dogs, whose serious look, so different from that of his peers, always had disquieted Penelope, on the rare occasions that their eyes had met, during the four years in which they had attended the same high school.

They sit in waiting room, surrounded by many other people in a very similar situation to her. Everywhere worried and tense faces, some with traces of recent crying, others staring at magazines, books, the floor, with absent eyes. Luke doesn't say condolences to her, or "I'm so sorry", things that she already knows he's feeling. Instead he tells her that he lost his father when he was four years old, in another kind of accident. And she feels even less alone, feels less the desire, the temptation to bask herself one's despair, of a situation that many have lived, live and many others will live.

In the end, she found the courage to enter to see her mother. She looks like nothing but a mannequin, a wax statue, a simulacrum of the woman she was. Then she comes back to waiting room and sees here the doctor that waiting her. His face is dark messenger like a black crow, there is no need to speak out that other truth, but he does it anyway because it's his duty. His father doesn't exceed the intervention, goes away without pain again, reaches his eternal love. The pain is so strong that it prevents her from crying. Luke remains at her side even when the time comes to grow up, to suddenly become a woman. Funeral, cards, unwanted visits, flowers and many, too many sentences of circumstance, empty. She goes everything on automatically, by inertia. Wearing the black dress with matching shoes, this is enough to feel bigger and suddenly would like to return to those days on the swing, or in the garden where they build the wooden house, her father who let her use the hammer, even if she was too small...

-Daddy... - she moans, but nobody can hear her. She left school, hadn't yet officially turned eighteen, so she was entrusted to a fantastic family and she found herself, she has always been a single child, now she has three half-brothers. After the funeral, she didn't see Luke again. In the hospital, but also outside the church, she has read in his eyes a feeling so intense, that she was scared and this time he has couldn't stop her from escaping. She didn't give him her new address, so he has couldn't writing. Now, finally alone, after almost a year after their death, she manages to externally pour the river that is stirring inside her soul.

 ***

 A shower of applause accompanies the conclusion of the story. JJ and Tara even have watery eyes. -Well, there is no competition, I told you... - the chief repeats, while the author feels ashamed as if it was his first book.

-You've also had to put in a serial killer!- Tara teases him.

-Guys, I had a good time, too, but can we go on? Now the technician will have repaired the system ...-

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