#this isn’t intended to be a literal demand to be clear

[arlowthenacho]

꧁༺ 𝓱𝔂𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓲𝓮-𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 ༻꧂

(spencer reid x reader/platonic!bau x reader)

summary: spencer isn’t drinking enough water when you’re away on a case. you call him, the team hears, chaos ensues.

warnings: fluffy! set in early s5, mention of getting shot, use of y/n, some cursing, pet names (baby, babe, sweetheart), intended lowercase. if i missed any, please let me know!

a/n: hi there! this is my first fic, so rlly any interaction/feedback is appreciated! this is also extremely self indulgent, but enjoy! the ending is kinda shit, apologies 🙇‍♀️

the soft rustling of paper and the quiet buzz of chatter is all that can be heard on the plane. the team had been presented a new case and have been flying for about an hour. they had been filling the silence by going over the details of the case, chatting with each other, or in your case, trying to convince your boyfriend to take a goddamn sip of water.

“spencer, for the love of god, i’m not asking you to throw your coffee machine out the window! please, take but a sip of water, i beg of you!” you’re practically hissing into the phone, trying to keep your voice down and failing miserably.

“y/n, im fine, i swear! i’ll just drink some later, i’m just really busy-” spencer’s reply comes out slightly crackly through the phone. he had been shot in the leg on a recent case and was not cleared to travel, therefore being left in penelope’s care, and only being able to communicate through phone calls.

“i left you a bottle of water on pen’s desk, it’s literally right in front of you!” you can hear emily snickering in the background and give her a half-hearted glare.

“yeah, pretty boy, why don’t you drink your water?” derek decides to chime in, a smug look plastered on his face. you shoot him a glare and whack his arm. “ow!”

you roll your eyes at derek’s whining and go back to your conversation with spencer.

“spence, please. just finish one bottle of water and then i’ll let you off the hook.” your tone is teetering on begging him and demanding him. at this point, the entire team can hear your conversation and are all snickering not-so-discreetly.

“spencer, please just listen to y/n. i don’t want to listen to this for another 4 hours.” this time, it’s rossi who interrupts you. his tone is so serious it’s funny.

spencer blushes a bright red on the other end and you can hear penelope teasing him relentlessly.

“ok, ok, fine! i’ll finish the water. happy?” his reply comes out in a high-pitched voice, clearly showing his embarrassment.

“very. thank you, spence,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you say your goodbyes and hang up the phone.

pretty much immediately after the fact, emily pipes up.

“you guys are so adorable it makes me ill,” she feigns annoyance by rubbing at her temples, concealing her smile quite terribly. you roll your eyes and go back to the file in front of you.

“that’s really unfortunate, em. feel better!” you teased, huffing out a chuckle.

“okay, the case?” hotch’s stern reply earns a groan from the rest of the team as your eyes drift back down to the folder in front of you.

you’re now a couple days into the case, and everything’s going to shit. you’re no closer to finding the scumbag of the month and the team is losing hope.

after a few seconds of thinking, you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when your phone rings, spencer’s name lighting up the screen. you answer near immediately, holding the phone to your ear.

“spence? baby? you got some good news f’me?” a smile touches you’re lips as soon as you answer, standing up and walking to the evidence board.

“yes and no, which do you wanna hear first?” spencer’s biting his lip in excitement and vibrating in his chair.

“lets hear the bad news first, baby,” you deflate at his words, leaning your back against the nearest wall.

“well, the trail we though we had on the unsub went cold,” spencer winces when he hears you sigh. “but we found a relative, penelope’s sending the address right now,” your smile soon returns as you kiss the phone, making an obnoxious sound in the speaker.

“im kissing your lovely little brains spence, thank you!” you make a few more kissing noises before spencer talks again.

“um-thank you, y/n,” his cheeks are flushed and he stutters through his sentences, biting his lip and smiling. “i-uhm…i also…finished my water…” you can barely make out what he’s saying, his whispered words slurring together.

“what was that, sweetheart?”

“i-i finished…i finished the water you gave me,” he speaks a bit louder, enunciating his words slightly better. you light up at his confession, smiling so wide your cheeks ache.

“thats great, spence! im very proud of you,” you gush, positively beaming.

“th-thank you, y/n, really,” he’s blushing even more now, his stammering worsening by the second.

”of course, babe. now, i gotta go, but i’ll call you when i’m back at the hotel, ‘kay? love you spence, bye!” you wait until spencer says goodbye to hang up the phone, smiling like a kid on christmas day.

after a couple more days, the case was finally over. the criminal being caught and locked away.

the jet ride home was uneventful, other than some light chatter and a well-deserved nap.

***

you’re soon stepping off the jet, along with the rest of the team, and hailing a cab to take you back home. soon, someone pulls over and you hop into the backseat. you give the driver your address and pull out your phone to text spencer.

spencie poo 💌

im omw home right now, see you soon :)

his reply comes back almost immediately.

okay, see you then!

you snap your flip phone shut and wait the remaining few minutes to get to your house.

***

after about 10 minutes, the ride is finally over. you pay the cab driver and thank him for driving you before speeding over to the door of your apartment building. you open it and buzz yourself in, walking to the elevator and pressing the button to get to your floor.

after getting off the elevator, you pull out your keys and unlock your apartment, dropping your things and toeing off your shoes.

“spence? you in here?” you call out into the seemingly empty apartment, plopping down on the couch and feeling around for the remote.

“here, y/n! just a minute,”

after a few seconds, spencer comes out and sits down in the spot next to you. you immediately curl into his side and sigh in contentment and exhaustion.

“‘m so tired, spence…” your words slur together, the drowsiness in your voice highlighted.

“i know…this case was a rough one.” he wraps his arm around you, drawing lazy circles on your shoulder. you let out a soft groan and cuddle closer to him.

“y’know, you really need to drink more water,” you giggle, limp in his arms.

“yeah…i know…” he has a guilty look on his face as he leans down to kiss your hairline. “i did finish that bottle of water you left me though,” he laughs breathlessly.

“hmm, thats good. ‘m very proud, spencer.” you can barely process what he’s saying, even though your words are sincere.

“okay baby, lets get you to bed,” spencer effortlessly picks you up and makes the short walk to your bedroom, laying you down on the plush bed.

after making sure you’re comfortable, he climbs in next to you and turns off the light.

“i love you, spence.”

”i love you too, y/n.”

[merakiui]

Now about that Stuck in a room only getting out by fucking prompt… I saw that tag, tell us more about Fatui Scaramouche PLSSSSS

Can you imagine him trying to fuck you with the intention of killing or incapacitating you!!! T_T sex so good it sends you to Celestia (literally). His stamina is endless, so you’re definitely going to be in for a long day.

I think he’d be offended that anyone or anything could ever confine him in a room. How dare this strange, mystical force manage to be greater and stronger than him! Worst of all, he’s stuck with you. >:( maybe you’re just a subordinate, an unimportant underling overseen by the Lord Harbinger, but since you’re with him he might as well put you to use. Scaramouche demands you find a way out or else he’ll give you a way out (death) if you aren’t fast enough. You hurry to try every idea that crosses your mind, desperate to get out before he loses his patience. If the fear of upsetting a powerful Harbinger doesn’t kill you, then he certainly will.

When it becomes clear that nothing is working and words on the wall finally appear, Scaramouche scoffs. This must be some joke. The only way to get out is to be intimate? Please. There must be another way. You’re inclined to agree. No way are you going to strip yourself bare and vulnerable before the Harbinger who has been so ready to strangle you since you first became locked in this room. But time passes and nothing substantial occurs, save for the unbearable stuffiness of the room. Scaramouche doesn’t seem affected by it, but you are and it’s so difficult to focus when you’re sweating buckets in your clothes. So you start small. You shrug your coat off, maybe your shoes and socks next. Scaramouche rolls his eyes at you; you’re so weak.

It isn’t until you have no choice but to render yourself half-nude that the atmosphere…changes. It’s subtle; you don’t notice Scaramouche’s eyes on you until you turn to look at him and he’s staring right at you. He turns away, scoffing about how you ought to stop ogling and use your brain to think of a way out. You’re too busy trying to keep what little dignity and pride you have left intact. Maybe Scaramouche is going insane, but he’s actually communicating a little more. Sure, most of it’s violent death threats and grumblings, but you can at least share his complaints. This room is the worst; both of you can agree on that.

It takes a while before you’re both staring at the wall again, considering the message. You investigated the entire room twice and there’s no sign of any clues that may help you escape. Your key is printed in bold lettering on a wall. There’s no other choice.

So now comes the arduous undertaking that is broaching such a topic to Lord Scaramouche. You expect him to decline right away, as he’s done so for the past few hours, but surprisingly he grabs your wrist and shoves you onto the bed that both of you have avoided ever since you became trapped.

“I’ll kill you if you touch me.” Though he says that, he’s the one with his hands on you, bloodless fingers curled tightly around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head.

You have no choice but to obey. He’s your superior and you’re just the unfortunate soul who happened to be thrown into this situation with him. Although you don’t miss the way he looks over you as if you’re something worth appreciating.

Scaramouche fucks you as if he intends to break you. He has your face pushed into the mattress so you won’t have to look at him. He’s so adamant about that. Don’t look at him. Don’t touch him. Don’t speak to him. Just let him get this over with. But it’s been three rounds now and he doesn’t seem like he intends to stop. You think you may have heard the click of a door unlocking, but it’s hard to approximate when you’re burying your head in your arms and muffling your cries and moans. You feel like an animal in heat, so tacky and hot and insatiable. Maybe it’s the thrill of doing something so intimate with someone who could end your life that has you begging for more. Or maybe it’s because a part of you genuinely enjoys this rough treatment.

So far, he’s fucked you in positions that won’t let you look at him. So you definitely surprise (and alarm) him when you turn over on your back and embrace him while he’s still buried deep. Scaramouche swears he’ll rip you to pieces, but you don’t miss the way his arms cage you possessively in return. You don’t know this—how could you, after all?—but you’re the first person to ever hug him. He hates that he enjoys this. He hates that he’s on the verge of softening up around you. And all because you had the courage to hug him! He’s a mess, but then you’re more of a mess, bruised and bitten bloody. Scaramouche promises both you and himself that he’ll kill you when this is over. But when it ends and you’re both free, he finds he can’t let you go, nor can he give you a brutal death.

You may have escaped a barren room, but you’ve just found yourself in an even bigger cage. And unfortunately this one is far more perilous than a simple room.

Of course it’s a different story if you happen to be a Harbinger as well. :)

[good7luck]

VNC non-animated manga latest (56, 57+) chapters spoilers

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* my personal, negative long vent

about some fan reactions:

“Noe is terrible because he gets happy over Tarte Tatin when Domi is suicidal!”

(more under the cut)

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* Sorry in advance that I failed to make my words organized and short. And I might be overreacting to some small minority. Still, I really wanted to rant for once, before the upcoming new chapter 58(?). Thanks for understanding!

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I’ve seen some comments like:

“Noe and Domi are supposedly old, close childhood friends! Noe learned Domi has been suicidal inside the whole time, while he had no idea! He even saw her jump in front of him, her suicide attempt! And yet, now Noe abandoned Domi and completely forgot about her! He gets excited over stupid Tarte Tatin, how dare he?! He should’ve been concerned about Domi and only her! Actually, he should’ve just opened the door and talked to her already! Noe is so selfish and insensitive and immature! Poor Domi, Noe is a terrible friend and really doesn’t deserve her!“

uh

Not gonna lie, I feel so disappointed and frustrated that some people seriously accuse Noe like that, ignoring or forgetting everything he did for Domi’s sake and the full contexts in the entire Amusement Park arc.

I get that they love Domi and worry about her mental health. I’d love to see Domi/Noe have a deep talk soon, too, really. In fact, I myself got super worried if MJ-sensei would not allow the two to interact at all, by making Domi have to leave asap due to an emergency call from Luca or Sade Family XD Now I’m VERY relieved (and surprised lol) apparently this teasing isn’t happening, and Domi/Noe will do get to face each other and talk, according to the new chapter preview. So hopefully those accusations on Noe would die a little...

However, actually...even if the two were not to meet soon in canon, I still think it’s really unfair for Noe to get all the hate like that.

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# Noe (probably) believes Domi jumped because of Misha’s forced order, NOT by her own (suicidal) will.

Even aside from all the stressful situation...Noe couldn’t properly process the shocking info about Domi’s inner guilt and pain, cuz Vani suddenly started to yell at him and provoke him. During the fierce fight (Noe vs Vani), due to Misha’s harsh demands, Noe couldn’t make complicated thoughts (as Misha intended), either. Misha himself outright threatened that Domi would jump right away “IF the 15 minutes passes” or “IF Misha gets hurt by someone” or “IF Noe makes a wrong move” etc. Besides, Vani was so strong, and Noe was definitely not winning.

We the audience watched Domi’s inner thought process, but the character Noe obviously can’t know it’s Domi’s own (suicidal) decision to jump early (much less “for Noe’s sake”). He was literally busy surviving from Vani’s attacks, not to mention he can’t read minds. If anything, it’s only natural for Noe to think Misha ordered her to jump at that moment, as Misha himself claimed. Honestly, I doubt if Noe realized Domi jumped “too early”. It’s rather amazing he even noticed she’s falling before she hit the bottom tbh.

I don’t mean he forgot about her secretly wanting to be dead in Louis’ stead. What I mean is - from Noe’s POV, whether Domi would jump or not was supposedly up to the controller Misha’s mind entirely, never the controlled victim Domi’s. Even the controller Misha himself couldn’t imagine his supposed puppet Domi would fall on her own without his order. Noe sure couldn’t guess, either.

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# Noe himself already saw Domi being quite fine on her own.

When Noe covered Vani with his own body, Domi saved them with her own ice power. Noe noticed the huge and strong ice around them was from Domi. He soon went outside and checked her standing well much better than him, even after using her power a LOT. From Noe’s POV, he had no idea what happened to her (especially after she started to attack Jeanne). Even so, now it’s pretty clear Domi is safe and back to her own self and (physically) healthy enough. Noe understandably got more relieved about her in general, perhaps (and Domi wasn’t particularly harming herself then).

Noe would’ve talked to her more or even hugged her, but unfortunately Vani and Misha thing happened right away (that Domi noticed first in the manga).

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# Amelia already told Noe that Domi is fine and that Noe shouldn’t interfere Domi talking to Jeanne.

When Noe woke up, Amelia assured him that everyone - including Domi - is safe. Amelia also actively stopped him cuz Domi/Jeanne was having a private conversation two of them (which again implies Domi is okay enough). Noe sees Amelia everyday, and he absolutely trusts her. There’s no reason for Noe to not believe Amelia’s words, even if he can’t see Domi right now (and Amelia was telling the truth). That’s why Noe went to Vani on the roof first, and later he waited for Domi (and Vani started to make Tarte Tatin).

If Noe still just goes open the door and starts to talk to Domi after all this, it means Noe ignores Amelia’s words and Domi’s agency and Jeanne’s presence. Which would be, uh, immature and even selfish and insensitive. I get that it could’ve dramatically shown how desperate and worried (and even “romantic”) Noe was about Domi, and it might not have been too bad actually, but still...

It’s Domi’s decision to not endlessly wait for Noe to wake up. Domi decided or agreed to have a long talk with Jeanne first, leaving injured and sleeping Noe to Amelia. All of it might be even Amelia’s suggestion (whether she secretly wanted to take care of Noe herself alone or not XD). Noe is being polite and respecting Domi and Amelia by patiently waiting for Domi/Jeanne conversation to end on their own, without making any complaint, without pressuring them to end it "asap” in any form, without trying to overhear what they’re saying in private. It’s bad and misogynistic to disrespect a woman’s own decision or ignore her agency, but somehow it’s wrong and horrible that Noe listened to Amelia’s request and didn’t interrupt Domi/Jeanne secret talk? lol :/

If we really try to play ~~strict~~ here, assuming Noe is terrible to Domi for such reasons uwu...then, isn’t Domi terrible to Noe, too, maybe worse? lol “Her old childhood friend got badly injured and almost killed because of her, to save her! Unlike Noe, both Domi and Jeanne were pretty fine, barely injured! And yet, Domi didn’t bother to stay with unconscious Noe! She abandoned her fiance to someone else and just went to have a chat with Jeanne instead, without caring about time! Now she’s even making Noe endlessly wait for her! Is Jeanne that important and urgent to her, more than her beloved friend who was about to die for her?! I get that Domi loves Jeanne, but how dare she?! She should’ve at least stopped talking to Jeanne and come to check Noe at some point!” <<<= I tried to imitate the accusations on Noe, and I sure hope this sounds annoying and picky lol :/

Seriously...it’s not like Noe carelessly left suicidal Domi alone in a room just because she demanded so, right after trying to kill herself. Domi is with Jeanne, none of them is hurting anyone, they’re talking in peace. Noe himself saw powerful Jeanne saving Domi in the park, he can trust Jeanne and leave Domi to her. He knows Jeanne is kind when on the same side as well.

It’s also not like Noe/Vani casually left Domi behind and happily went on a date or lunch two of them outside for 3 hours, in a fancy restaurant far far away lol Noe/Vani/Amelia are literally right near the door of Domi/Jeanne room, so that Noe could see Domi right away as soon as she’s done with Jeanne. That’s why Vani told Noe to lower his voice!!

Honestly, Noe could’ve just lied on the comfortable bed in his room (and had fun with Vani) as a patient, asking Amelia to bring Domi to him later or such...but he didn’t. He rather decided to actively go wait and see his dear friend himself asap! Noe isn’t even sitting on some chair, plz!!

I’d like to make it clear, just in case - I do NOT have a problem with Domi/Jeanne conversation taking a lot of time (it happens XD), and I believe Domi never intended to make Noe wait for her like that.

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# The Tarte Tatin is Vani’s voluntary present for his sincere apology and their miraculous reconciliation, and it all means a lot to Noe.

Noe and Vani had one hell fight yesterday that totally could have killed the other and their entire relationship, which left both completely wrecked. Now Vani was expressing his apology and their reconciliation by making Noe’s top favorite food. It’s not mere “damn stupid” Tarte Tatin. Not only Domi but also Vani is important to Noe. Noe has been stressed out the whole night, so he would get super happy over some(happy)thing he never expected from Vani, maybe even more easily than usual.

When Noe just woke up, Domi/Jeanne were talking. Even after Noe/Vani had their talk on the roof and visited Orlok’s office (to get scolded XD) and came back...Domi/Jeanne were still talking for like 1 hour, if not more. Noe kept waiting for Domi, even if not knowing when she’ll be out exactly. Vani started to make Tarte Tatin for Noe, rather than doing nothing. None of both ever complained about how long Domi/Jeanne conversation is getting or if they should wait there like that - they were simply spending their waiting time in their way. In addition...Noe got distracted and smiled in excitement over Vani’s Tarte Tatin for like 10 minutes or so...plz asdfg

Is it THAT “sinful”? cuz Noe wasn’t screaming, crying, throwing up for Domi every single minute?? Is it what she wants from him, being unable to smile over his favorite food even for a while??? I really don’t think so :/

It’s “funny” that I’ve never seen any of those people (who blame Noe) blame Vani (ex. “Why did Vani make Tarte Tatin NOW, before Noe/Domi talk?!”). Sometimes, I did see “Vani should apologize to Domi”, but somehow it’s never brought up in THIS context lol (ex. “Vani should get ready to apologize to Domi, NOT cooking for Noe!”)

It’s also “funny” that I’ve never seen any “criticism” that Noe followed Dante and later tried to go find JJ/Chloe: in both cases, Noe was physically getting away from Domi he was originally waiting for. If we try to play ~~strict~~ again uwu...isn’t it much more terrible than when Noe ~dared to~ get excited over Tarte Tatin? This happened at least physically near Domi’s location lol

Similarly, somehow Dante didn’t get any hate for taking Noe (and his attention) away from Domi, either, much less JJ/Chloe lol (ex. “Why must Noe get distracted by stupid JJ/Chloe and even smile at them and talk about his clan, when Domi is suicidal! Are they more important than his old childhood friend who wants herself dead?! No more JJ/Chloe, no more insensitive Noe being happy over them! Dante also should’ve known Noe/Domi need to talk asap!”) If anything, people rather wanted JJ/Chloe and Dante to stay longer and appear more lol

For some reason, Noe gets blamed (as always? lol), as if Noe himself asked Vani to make Tarte Tatin for him :/ Actually, to be very honest...even if Noe did demand Vani to make Tarte Tatin for him and become so joyful over it (for 10 minutes lol)...I think I still wouldn’t call him problematic, considering what happened between them? Noe has his own life and relationships, out of Domi (and he rather should?). It’s not like Domi is crying or bleeding right next to him now...Noe isn’t enjoying a party in such a serious / urgent situation, plz. I’m pretty sure Noe’s first words to Domi will NOT be about Vani’s Tarte Tatin, either, plz!! asdfg XD

I feel so salty, yep lol No, I do NOT think people should actually start to complain like my made-up complaints above!! Plz no asdfg I’d love to see more of Dante and JJ/Chloe and more in a peaceful situation myself!!

I simply don’t understand why those people basically insist Noe should be 24/7 depressed and hyper-focusing on Domi and only her, treating him like a heartless psychopath otherwise. To me, it sounds so unhealthy (and even unrealistic, oops), similar to “poor Louis meant nothing to Domi/Noe cuz they dare to have some sincerely happy days without mourning his death”? I highly doubt if a decent professional therapist could live like that.

Plz, it’s not like Noe made fun of Domi or joked about her trauma. It’s just that Noe couldn’t imagine Vani would do THAT much for him and their relationship, so he got extra excited over Vani’s (rare) explicit kindness and effort (in the visible form of his favorite food), after all the intense sufferings half a day ago. Does Noe have no right / freedom to feel any kind of happiness about anything or anyone in any moment now, until Domi explicitly approves it or she feels no longer suicidal? :((

(my apparently unpopular opinion on this crying Noe: I don’t think he’s crying because he got upset by Vani’s words. I believe he’s crying because he’s so happy to be miraculously allowed to stay by Vani’s side again like before, and uh...he probably didn’t seriously think he would have to kill him for real, oops ^^; Anyway, that’s why I brought this pic: Noe is happy to be with Vani here)

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# What Noe did for Domi’s sake in the Amusement Park arc

(I know one could argue if Noe did things “genuinely” for Domi’s sake, similar to when Louis!Domi criticized Domi’s suicidal choice in her mind...but let me skip that, oops XD)

(I must say, I do NOT necessarily mean Noe’s decisions / actions are genuinely good or positive. I just tried to collect Domi/Noe scenes where Noe cares about Domi, though I might’ve missed some ^^;)

[*] When Noe first saw Domi’s hair and Misha’s “invitation” letter, he didn’t hesitate and went to the park right away - without saying anything to Amelia, not even to Vani.

Amelia decided to go see Vani and tell him what happened on her own, NOT because Noe asked her to do so. Noe was fully occupied with Domi and so reckless that much.

[*] Noe got a lot of hate at the end of the arc, for ~daring to~ hurt the “kid” Misha’s face when trying to protect Vani from getting harmed / murdered by Misha, who was rushing with obviously dangerous weapons.

But actually, Noe was similarly in a vampire mode and about to aggressively attack the “kid” when he first met him, too, even when Misha didn’t make an explicitly suspicous move yet - because the “kid” was the culprit who dared to kidnap Domi.

(I wonder if the fandom hated Noe for being “violent” to the “kid” at that time, too lol I wasn’t in the fandom at that time)

Noe literally didn’t care if the kidnapper was a “kid”, cuz Domi was much more important to him. He didn’t even try to “talk things out”, unlike usual.

[*] Noe has some traumatic experiences in regards to blood-drinking, and he (usually) wouldn’t drink someone else’ blood without their consent or without his own want.

However, Misha threatened to kill Domi if Noe didn’t do as he wished, ordering Noe to drink his blood. Noe obviously never wanted any of it, but he had no choice but to break his own moral beliefs and rules, so he drank Misha’s blood against his own will - to save Domi. (and yet, some people call the victim Noe “rapist” and blame him, maybe because Noe is physically older, bigger, and stronger asdfg while completely excusing Misha’s problematic behaviors ://)

[*] Similarly, Misha demanded to go drink Vani’s blood in 15 minutes. Noe obviously remembered Vani’s rejection and warning, so he tried and literally begged Vani to tell Misha what happened on That Day, physically lowering himself. Noe knew Vani would hate all of it, but he wanted to save Domi THAT much.

[*] Noe ended up attacking Vani to drink his blood by force for real - going against his own moral beliefs and rules again, for Domi’s sake.

[*] Noe was super busy fighting against Vani, but he still noticed Domi was falling, and he ran to her right away. He totally forgot about the bloody fight, even after Jeanne safely saved Domi, to the point he got attacked by Vani from behind in the end.

[*] When Noe realized Domi used her ice power to protect him and Vani, he left Vani behind and went out of the ice to see Domi himself right away.

[*] Noe is waiting for Domi right near Domi/Jeanne room, not in his daily room, even if he’s not fully recovered yet and doesn’t know when Domi/Jeanne long talk would end.

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HOWEVER uwu Noe is anyway a terrible jerk who doesn’t really care about Domi at all uwu because he still dared to happily focus on mere Tarte Tatin for 10 minutes while waiting for Domi uwu which is an utter evil sin that completely invalidates everything he has done for her so far uwu Noe should’ve kept screaming, crying, throwing up over Domi and only her every second until they get to talk uwu

I can’t believe Noe is apparently sooooo “flawless” to them that they have to make a fuss over such a petty reason, idk lol :/

“You love Noe and so can’t see his flaws and can’t take any criticism on him!” LOL In this arc, strictly speaking - Noe was very reckless and arrogant (and so immature, mind you lol) to think he could handle the unknown kidnapper and save Domi safely by himself alone, even without telling anyone else about anything, especially when he couldn’t even use one arm and there could’ve been, uh, many kidnappers, even powerful evil vampires, for example... Noe was understandably very upset and desperate, but still.

Believe it or not, I’ve enjoyed Domi and Domi/Noe by some level. It’s honestly not so hard for me to empathize with both Domi and Noe in the Amusement Park arc. So...can those people please NOT ruin Domi/Noe for me?! asdfg XD

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Thanks for reading my long long vent subjective experiences & bitter opinions! I’m sorry I couldn’t write this nicer in general OTL

[jinxquickfoot]

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Human Shield

Find the fic on Ao3

Note: Second half is written from Tony's POV during Civil War, but not intended to be anti-Team Cap or anti-Steve.

2012

God, Tony wants to die.

“Put the shield down Rogers, or I’m going to shoot him in the head.”

Not literally, obviously. Figuratively. From embarrassment.

The guy they’ve been chasing for the past week is just that—a guy. A very well-trained, very strong guy, based on the burly arm gripping Tony by the throat, but still. Human shield is not Tony’s best look.

Steve is managing to appear, Tony begrudgingly admits, exponentially cooler. His expression is stoic behind the cowl and shield, the gun resting on the rim, film and steady. “Let him go, Batroc. It’s over.”

Batroc huffs, right in Tony’s ear. Tony cringes away because gross—he does not need this guy’s morning breath anywhere near his breathing passages—but that only presses his temple more firmly against Batroc’s firearm.

He’s already working on ideas to make the suit more portable. The suitcase design was a good start, but it had just taken one kick from the Frenchman to send it skidding out of reach. Tony’s hand-to-hand skills are far from weak, but he and Steve had been ambushed without warning, and apparently Batroc had decided that Tony was the more controllable hostage of the two.

Next time, this wouldn’t happen. He’d make some sort of suit he could carry on his person all the time, even just a gauntlet, so he’d be ready always.

But that was next time. This time, Tony has to make do with what he’s given. Which, at the moment, is the hostage training Natasha had forced him through for this exact scenario.

“You know I wear a two-hundred-pound suit around the bad guys, right?” Tony had scoffed. “I highly doubt one of them is going to be able to get me in a chokehold.”

Natasha’s response to that had been to, naturally, put Tony in a chokehold, not releasing him until he had agreed to let her show him a few moves.

“A human shield makes it harder to hit the target,” Natasha had told him. “But not impossible. Still, you want to reduce the odds of getting shot yourself as best you can, which means you aim for the ribs. Give us a window, and we’ll take the assailant out.”

They’d practiced it until Tony had it perfect. “There. You happy now, Romanoff?”

“Now that I know one of my friends is in slightly less danger than before? A little bit, yeah.”

Batroc’s blathering on about something else, demands or threats, but Tony isn’t listening. He catches Steve’s eye, raising an eyebrow. Ready? He sees Steve make the calculation—determining the risk. Then he makes eye contact with Tony, and nods. Ready.

Batroc doesn’t see it coming. He’s so focused on Steve that he’s completely unprepared when Tony slams his elbow into his solar plexus.

The gun at Tony’s head stutters, the hold around his throat loosening. It’s not enough to pull free, but the next moment there’s a bang, and then strong arms are grabbing his and pulling him to safety.

“Are you alright?”

Tony winces as he runs a hand over his surely bruised throat. Batroc is bellowing on the ground, bleeding from the shoulder, but neither Tony nor Steve pay him any attention. “Yeah,” Tony croaks, clearing his throat. Ow. “Just some bruised pride. Maybe a few other things. Nice shot.”

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Always. Although not something I want to do often.”

“You getting squeamish, Captain?”

“Not for this,” Steve replies grimly. “For you—for anyone on the team—I’ll always make the shot. I promise.”

2016

Tony has been through a myriad of feelings the past couple of days, but the absolute panic of I’m about to be shot in the face is a new one. The swell of pride when one of his inventions works for the first time, however—that’s one he’s all too familiar with.

The nanotech gauntlet is barely out of the testing phase, but it’s the only one he’s allowed to carry these days under the Accords. He’s not meant to be using it, either, not without UN permission, but he thinks they’ll let him off the hook given there’s a feral Winter Soldier plowing through Avengers right now.

Catching the gun is the first thing that comes to mind when Barnes points the thing right in his face, his thoughts transforming from That was incredibly stupid to That was amazingly genius in a nanosecond. It’s also a nanosecond of distraction, where he’s not moving, not thinking, and apparently that’s all Barnes needs to get the upper hand.

Tony braces, preparing for the blow as the metal arm swings for his head, but the pain doesn’t come. Instead of a hit, he feels metal grip his throat, a human but inhumanely strong second hand wrap around his waist, as he hears the distant clatter of his glasses hitting the floor.

At the last possible second, Tony throws a counter-maneuver—one of the many, many moves he’d practiced with Natasha after the Batroc incident—but he doesn’t account for Barnes’s strength. The escape attempt does nothing, and then Tony finds himself helpless in the Winter Soldier’s hold.

“Release him.”

Barnes spins them both around, looking for escape paths, the arms around Tony tightening as T’Challa stalks towards them with claws at the ready.

“You will not escape here,” T’Challa adds, and Tony doesn’t know whether the calm murder in his voice is a point in or against his favor. Tony recalls the day he found out his own father had died. He hadn’t exactly handled it with aplomb. He can’t even begin to imagine how he’d react if he’d found out it was deliberate, that there was someone to blame outside of a lethal combination of windy country roads and whiskey.

Barnes responds by shifting his grip, too fast and too expert for Tony to take advantage, so his gun is pointing at Tony’s neck.

“That’s not going to help you.” A new voice. Barnes doesn’t turn to meet it, clearly more worried about the Black Panther. Natasha moves around to where they can both see her, meeting Tony’s eye. “Stay calm, Tony. We’ll get you out of this.”

Tony would love to believe her, but knowledge of just how deadly Barnes is even without a gun isn’t helping matters.

And then, a third voice. “Bucky!”

This time, Barnes does move, even though he’s careful not to let either T’Challa or Natasha out of his sight. Steve is running full tilt at them, not even bothering with the stairs as he leaps to the lower floor. The shield is missing, but Steve’s managed to acquire a gun. He holds it loosely between his fingers as though he’s worried it's going to burn him, not even trying to lift it when he sees the situation before him.

“Bucky,” Steve says again, all determination. “I know you’re in there. Stand down.”

Judging by the increase in pressure on Tony’s throat, Barnes has absolutely no intention of following that order. Tony chokes, instinctively trying to pry the arm away, but it’s like trying to shift concrete.

The gun in Steve’s hand twitches. “Bucky,” he says, yet again, his voice soft. “You’re not in danger. These are allies. I’m your ally. I know you remember me.”

Great, so Tony’s life depends on the memory of a guy with seventy years worth of brain damage.

“Steve,” Natasha murmurs—a warning. She’s eyeing the gun, as though thinking of grabbing it.

Steve notices. His response is to clutch it a little tighter. Which Tony reads as I know what I’m doing, Romanoff, back off. And apparently Barnes reads as This man is about to shoot me so time to run away.

Tony has no choice but to be dragged with him, feet unable to find purchase as Barnes starts backing through the building. More backup has arrived, but Tony’s unable to pay them much attention. He doubts any of them are willing to take a shot anyway, not with the gun trained on them, and not when he’s blocking so much of Barnes’s body.

The panic doesn’t properly set in until he realizes Barnes is taking him to the roof. “Hey, you don’t need—” he tries, but immediately gets cut off when more pressure is added to his throat. He blinks rapidly as they burst into sudden daylight, willing them to adjust, then almost wishing he was still blinded as he sees Barnes’s target.

Tony is just thinking that he really doesn’t want to find out if Barnes is planning to drag him onto that helicopter, or if his part here is done and he’s about to be disposed of, when another figure joins them on the roof. “Bucky, stop.”

Barnes doesn’t stop. He doesn’t go to the helicopter either. Instead, he drags Tony backward until they’re balanced on the edge of the roof, and Tony catches a glimpse of water way too far below them. The gun is still at Tony’s neck. Tony grimaces as he tries to move away from it, but Barnes’s grip is as resolute as ever.

“No one is going to hurt you,” Steve tries. “I know you’re confused, but I know you know me. I’m Steve. You’re Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes.”

Tony wishes he could have one ounce of Steve’s conviction. Maybe then his heart would stop pounding quite so fast.

Barnes doesn’t move. He doesn’t let him go. And Tony’s done playing damsel in distress. He raises his arms, just slightly, willing Steve to see the movement.

Steve does. His eyes go a little wider, his grip shifting on his gun. It’s not pointed anywhere near Barnes, but Steve’s reflexes are super-soldier fast. He’ll make the shot.

Tony watches Steve’s face, seeing the indecision there. Alright, give the guy a second to work through the idea of shooting his closest friend from the olden times. They only need a shoulder wound for Steve to get Tony out of this. Batroc had survived, and then healed well enough to escape SHIELD custody and had a second go at Steve on the Lemurian Star. And he wasn’t even a super-soldier.

Barnes will be fine, even if he ends up falling off the roof. Steve had survived a much longer fall in much worse condition from the helicarrier. Tony’s not so sure about his own well-being if they don’t do this. And he has no idea how long he has before Barnes either fires, snaps his neck, or throws him into the water below.

He brings his elbows up, and slams them backward.

Something snaps in his arm, pain ricocheting up his side, but none of that matters as time seems to slow. Because he’s not free. There was no gunshot. Just the sound of a finger squeezing a trigger, right beside his ear.

This is it. He’s dead. Steve didn’t take the shot and he’s dead.

That thought can’t have lasted longer than a quarter-second, but it feels like an eternity before he feels Barnes go rigid behind him.

Tony doesn’t waste the opening. He tugs the arm away from him, even as he sees Steve barrelling towards them. Tony remembers this part. Being tugged out of Batroc’s grip, beyond relieved even if there was no way he was showing it.

But when Steve reaches him, he doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t look at him. Tony is vaguely aware of a splash, and then Steve is launching himself off the roof, and gentle hands are gripping Tony’s bad arm.

“What—”

“I hit Barnes with a Widow’s Bite,” Natasha’s saying, tilting her bracelet up to show the missing disc. “Maybe you had a point about building ones you could throw.”

Tony cranes his head over the roof to where Steve has surfaced with an unconscious Barnes lolling in his arms.

“Hey.” Natasha tilts his face back towards her, concerned. “You okay?”

Tony blinks at her, trying to remember how to speak, but his voice is gone. He supposes nearly getting shot in the head twice in the space of ten minutes will do that to a person.

When she doesn’t get an answer, Natasha gently prods his elbow, making him wince. “Fractured,” she remarks. “You tried that move I showed you, huh?”

He had. And Steve hadn’t taken the shot.

He hadn’t… he hadn’t even looked at him.

“Come on.” Natasha helps him stand. “Let’s deal with that elbow, and then we’ll deal with the mess that just got one hundred times worse.”

Author's note: Steve believed that Bucky would never actually hurt Tony and therefore Tony was never in any real danger.

[thetomorrowshow]

what to keep

Trust AU Masterlist  -  Previous

i couldn’t leave yall on a cliffhanger for too long :) here’s the next part of the trust au!

cw: blood, violence, vomiting, vertigo

~

They blindfold him first.

He’s not sure why—he’s seen the portal before, and he knows exactly where they are. It isn’t like spinning him around is going to make him lose his sense of direction in this instance. They spin him anyways. Too much. All it does is make him nearly throw up. He manages to hold it back, even if his stomach sloshes rebelliously.

At some point during his repeated swallowing, rough hands tear off his elytra. He doesn’t know who. He doesn’t know why they literally pulled through the leather harness instead of unbuckling it from around his chest. All he knows is that with a snap, the light wings are brushing against the backs of his legs and crumpling to the floor at his heels.

“Ready to go to the End, Jimmy?” Sausage crows, stripping off Jimmy’s long gloves and using them to tie his wrists together. They’d torn his veil to use for the blindfold, so he isn’t exactly surprised that no one thought to bring rope. He flexes his wrists at first, hoping to relax them later and slip out of the binds, but Sausage pinches his hands until he stops.

He supposes they really want him to stay out of the way while they fight the dragon rumored to be on the other side—otherwise, they wouldn’t bother to go through all this trouble when every person in this room has beaten Jimmy in a fight and could easily take him down if he were to try to escape.

The End is also supposed to have a lot of Endermen, isn’t it? Maybe the blindfold is because they don’t want him looking in the eyes of a stray Enderman, bringing it upon them and causing chaos.

Which would actually be a decent plan, and Jimmy’s kind of ashamed that they clearly thought of it before he did.

He doesn’t answer Sausage, aiming for an enigmatic and proud presence. Even if his pride is currently in pieces on the floor, he’s not the angry fry he once acted like. He’s a hero to his people, a cod of great importance. He can at least pretend to be worthy of that.

“Gosh, whatever Scott did to him made him so boring,” drawls Joey, close enough behind Jimmy that he can feel his breath on his neck. “He’d usually still be fighting right now. I miss that.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t have that kind of time, honestly,” fWhip says. He sounds distracted, and Jimmy wonders for a brief second what on earth fWhip could be focused on that’s more important than this. “We can go beat the crap out of Smajor after this if you want a fight, okay?”

A sigh. “Fine. Let’s go, then! Can’t keep my XorXor waiting!”

Jimmy doesn’t have a chance to share his thoughts (most of which consist of utter refusal and demands for freedom) before he’s shoved forward, feet finding nothing before him.

He falls, and falls, and falls—the air is thin, so much thinner than anything he’s used to—his heart drops into his stomach and he thinks he screams—

Then he hits solid ground.

He finally loses the battle to his stomach and vomits on hands and knees, barely able to catch himself. He reaches blindly forward and meets nothing, nothing but the edge of a platform and what could be a short drop or an endless void. He doesn’t know.

He spits a couple of times, clearing out any last chunks, then rocks back onto his heels, feeling all around with his bound hands together to see if there’s another drop-off.

Once he feels secure, he reaches up, intending to tear off the blindfold, but before he can do anything there’s a thud beside him and the sound of someone retching.

At least he’s not the only one.

Two more thuds come in quick succession, but nobody else throws up, which is probably for the best but would’ve felt like a small victory, if Jimmy’s honest with himself.

“Oh, wow,” fWhip murmurs, closer than Jimmy expected. “Look at her.”

I can’t, I’m blindfolded, Jimmy wants to snark back, but he restrains himself. He wonders, briefly, who it is that fWhip’s looking at.

Then he hears the heavy beating of wings in the distance and he knows.

“Sausage, bridge out,” commands fWhip. “Joey, when you’re done puking, help me with him.”

Jimmy only has a minute’s peace before he’s being grabbed under both arms, two people (ostensibly fWhip and Joey) dragging him to his feet. In the process, whatever knot Sausage had used to tie his gloves pulls apart, the binds falling to the ground.

Perfect. The first step to escape!

Like there’s anywhere to escape to, at this point. And he doesn’t get the chance to try, Joey pinning his arm to his body on one side and fWhip doing the same on the other. He’s well and truly stuck between them, no choice but to follow along with them.

They frogmarch him away from wherever it is that they’d landed, across what feels like cobblestone until they hit unfamiliar ground, ground that’s uneven in an unrecognizable way. He stumbles over it with almost every other step, toes getting caught in holes and ankles rolling over mounds. His companions do nothing to help him.

He can hear Endermen nearby. He doesn’t usually fight Endermen, preferring to let them mind their own business, so as long as those vwoops stay far away from him, everything will be fine. He’s blindfolded, anyway. He shouldn’t be able to anger them.

“Sausage, you take him,” Joey says suddenly, next to Jimmy’s right ear. His shoulders hunch at the unexpected noise. “I’m going to go start the summoning.”

There’s a roar overhead, and Jimmy ducks, turning his head this way and that, as if he’ll catch a glimpse of the dragon. fWhip chuckles, continues to pull him along. Joey drops away, a sturdier body taking his place.

Then, suddenly, they stop. With a smile in his voice, Sausage pronounces, “Jimmy, welcome to the End!”

The blindfold is pulled loose.

Before Jimmy is an endless void.

He gapes at it, at the little flecks of color floating in the blackness. It’s—well, it’s pretty, but not what he’d expected. He’d expected to actually see . . . something.

He looks down. The ground beneath him is made up of some sort of yellowish, holey, coral-like thing. It’s kind of gross-looking, honestly. And beyond is just—nothing.

“I don’t understand,” he says, voice oddly suppressed for such an open space. Sure, he’s never seen anything like this before—but where is the dragon? The Endermen? The rumored towers and pyres, the cities and creatures unknown?

This is just—nothing.

“How about we show you,” fWhip snickers, before shoving him hard in the back.

He very nearly falls. He stumbles, arms flailing, and he very nearly pitches headfirst into the abyss before him, but one of the odd holes in the ground catches his heel and helps him regain his balance, if a couple steps closer to the edge.

Just because he doesn’t fall doesn’t mean he didn’t come very close, and Jimmy’s suddenly sweating all over, stomach flip-flopping as adrenaline pumps through.

fWhip pushed him. fWhip meant to send him careening over the edge, into nothingness.

fWhip just tried to kill him.

And Jimmy isn’t inclined to believe it was a joke.

“This is it?” he whispers, horror gnawing at his insides. Forget that he gave away the location, forget that he lost the Codfather head, this is the end!

This is the End.

“This is the End? Death is the End?” he manages, glancing back toward fWhip and Sausage.

Sausage shrugs. “That’s one interpretation.”

fWhip feints forward, arms out to push him again, and Jimmy ducks away, left foot catching on the edge and throwing off his balance entirely. He windmills for a moment before properly regaining his footing, one eye on the void behind him and one eye on his captors.

Behind them, he can see a tower of obsidian. Several Endermen loiter around it. The End is otherwise unpopulated.

The only witnesses of his death will be his enemies.

His family isn’t here. Lizzie and Joel are probably fast asleep somewhere, not even aware that the jig is up and their brother is about to die. He won’t ever see them again, he won’t get to make up for his mistakes, he won’t ever get to hug them and let them know how much he cares about them ever again.

He’d never even told Scott he loves him.

It seems silly, now, how he’d danced around it. How he’d never outright confessed. There’d been so many perfect times, so many opportunities to share his feelings, but he’d been too scared of rejection to take the chance. And here he is, moments from his death, and Scott will never know how he feels.

He’ll never know that he was one of the greatest loves of Jimmy’s life. His savior. The first spot of light in an endless void.

“Why?” he asks, and he’s never felt more detached from a word.

“Like I said, you’ve become an issue,” fWhip says, punctuating his words by stepping closer. “You had to go talk, get Scott in your little alliance and let him spread all those vicious lies about how cruel we are. Now Gem barely trusts me!”

“And Katherine doesn’t trust us at all!” Sausage pipes up. fWhip nods.

“See, Jimmy, you’ve got a good heart. And that makes people like you, and trust you, even if you are a bit hotheaded. You’re someone they care about. Taking you out will drop their morale real fast.” fWhip shrugs, then adds, “And you’ve just been really annoying lately. I kinda just want you dead.”

Jimmy swallows. His eyes and ears dart back and forth between Sausage and fWhip. He can maybe take one of them, but certainly not both. That had been proven in the woods back home.

And even if he did manage to squirm free, he has no clue how to get home. Joey and the demon would grab him before he could do more than get back to where they had started—wherever that was.

This is it. This is . . . this . . . this is the end.

fWhip pushes him.

It’s almost in slow-motion. His foot slips, his arms stretch out (as if to grab something and pull himself back up, but there’s nothing there, of course there’s nothing) and he’s falling, he’s falling, he’s falling into the void.

They laugh as he falls. There’s no regret in either of their expressions. They just watch, and they laugh.

He’s a swimmer by nature, and though the void’s air is a bit thinner than earth’s, when Jimmy falls, his back arcs gracefully, his fins and arms outstretched to provide whatever resistance they can.

Air rushes past him, battering his earfins and whistling in his ears, but he just closes his eyes

And doesn’t think

And falls.

And Jimmy ceases to exist in his mind.

The only sound is the wind. The pervading silence of the void presses in, becoming more and more invasive.

And it’s beautiful, in its own sightless way. Utterly incomparable, when this is all that has been and all that will be and the silence and the wind are the only reference points in history. The wind is still, constant, a low roaring that will never end even as time unravels. The silence isn’t still, but ever-moving, fluid, pushing and pulling and taking without giving. 

It’s not too long before the void starts to hurt.

The pressure of the silence weighs down harder and harder, pulling away with a vengeance to strip him of what he used to be. It hurts, it burns with the blazing fire of nothing he’s ever known, and yet there’s nothing he can do. He has no voice with which to scream, stolen away by the silence. No control over what occurs. He falls, and all he knows is pain.

It’s not too long before he feels a fin on his arm pull away, the skin and scales on his neck and hands starting to flake off as his clothing pulls apart as well.

He forces open his eyes, even as it feels as though needles are pricking through the lids. The world above is a very small blink of light.

And that light illuminates something.

Something that’s quite quickly coming closer.

And then there are arms around him and shouting in his ear and the sound of wings and blue hair and—

“Hold on!” Scott yells, cracking through the silence, and it still hurts, it hurts badly to even think (and it’s affecting Scott too, his nose is bleeding and a patch of his face is bright red with new, scabbing skin), but what’s left of Jimmy does his best to pull the pieces of himself back together and desperately hold onto Scott.

It’s slow, of course, Scott’s wings stutter a few times but he manages to find the strength to carry Jimmy’s deadweight and lift him higher, until the light above becomes a more-defined place rather than just a pinprick in a sea of nothing.

Jimmy sucks in a breath that he hadn’t realized was in his chest. He hasn’t been breathing, he registers vaguely; it’s easier to not breathe, it’s easier to let the darkness claim him.

“I’ve got you, okay?” Scott gasps, voice cracking, and Jimmy just hangs there, limp, trying to remember how to breathe.

How much time has passed? How long has he been falling?

“You’re okay. You’ve got to be okay, all right? I. . . .” Scott trails off, his chest heaving as his wings work to support both their weight.

Jimmy doesn’t doubt for a moment that he’ll save them.

And after several long minutes of flying straight up, Scott collapses onto holey, coral-like ground, still clutching Jimmy to him.

It’s as if, suddenly, a bubble has popped. No longer is Jimmy’s world just the oppressive silence of the void and Scott’s breathing. Now there’s screaming, shouts of directions, the roaring of a dragon, explosions, and it’s so much noise—

Scott pushes away from him and sits up, and Jimmy sees tears streaking down his face, delicate hands coming up to frame Jimmy’s face. “You’re alive,” he whispers. “I got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

His whole body aches, stinging in patches where he’d begun to—disintegrate? Fall apart? He’s not sure. He’s not sure all that happened in the void, can barely comprehend some of it, so he pushes it to the side and places his hands over Scott’s, looking up at him from where he lies on the ground.

Scott’s hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, blood dripping from his nose down his lips, his chest is rising and falling rapidly with every frantic breath, his eyes are wild and terrified and so very bright.

The beauty of the void’s silence pales in comparison.

“I’m alive,” he croaks, and he’s really—he’s alive.

Scott saved him.

As if struck by impulse, Scott leans forward and presses a kiss to Jimmy’s forehead, small and sweet and full of so many emotions.

And Jimmy didn’t die.

“I love you,” he blurts out, the rasp of his voice putting a strain on his vocal cords. He doesn’t care. He didn’t die. “I love you. I love you.”

There’s so much more he wants to say. He wants to explain that he had been about to die without ever confessing his feelings. He wants to tell him that it’s okay if the feeling isn’t mutual, because he nearly died and somehow that makes everything that once seemed important fall away.

He wants to tell him how he’s looked at him every day and fallen a little deeper into love, even as his heart breaks again and again.

He doesn’t, though. He can’t find the words.

“I love you,” Jimmy says again, even as his voice collapses on itself. “I’m in love with you.”

And Scott, to his credit, only looks utterly shocked for a moment before he bends down and kisses Jimmy on the lips.

It’s quick, and Scott’s lips are chapped but soft and warm, and it’s a lot to feel for someone who had been convinced he’d never feel anything again as he fell into a comfortless void, but it’s got so much love behind it, and when Scott pulls back, Jimmy sees stars in his eyes.

“I love you,” Scott tells him, his fingers digging into Jimmy’s cheeks in a way that’s almost painful but mostly grounding. “We’re talking more about this later. I have to—Xornoth—”

Scott shifts as if to leave, but his hands don’t let go of Jimmy’s face. Jimmy squeezes his hands briefly, pushes him away. “I’m fine. Go,” he rasps, using Scott’s hands to pull himself up into a sitting position.

Scott nods, brushes Jimmy’s knuckles against his lips, then runs, feet pounding against the uneven ground.

There’s a battle beyond Scott. The dragon twisting furiously through the air while figures throw potions at it. People running to and fro, destroying strange floating crystals or replacing them. A dark presence atop one of the obsidian towers. So much shouting and screaming.

And Scott loves him.

There are black spots on his vision when he stands, and his legs and arms don’t feel quite like they’re where they belong, but at least he can stand. At least he’s alive.

One step at a time, he heads toward the battle, until the steps become easier and easier and he doesn’t feel as though the ground is going to collapse beneath him, sending him once again into that peacefully horrible void.

He’s exhausted. He’s bleeding all over, patches where his skin had disintegrated now raw and painful. The air of the End, again, is thinner than the Overworld, making it hard to get a good breath in and leaving him a little lightheaded. His limbs are still shaking from the trauma of falling to his death just moments ago, adrenaline and despair still crowding his brain.

But he has his people to think of. And his family. And Scott.

Jimmy dives headfirst into Sausage, knocking him away from Shubble, who had been facing away, easing a strange floating bundle of crystals to life.

They both hit the ground hard, and what little breath Jimmy had gained is knocked out of him, making his vision fuzz as he rolls on top of Sausage, pinning his arms to his side with his legs.

Sausage’s eyes widen when he sees Jimmy, face going from determined to complete shock in a matter of milliseconds. “I—but you—fWhip—”

Jimmy runs a hand under his nose, wiping away a trickle of blood, and does his best to grin, despite the way he feels his lip split with the motion. “Think twice before trying to kill me next time, yeah?”

There are a lot of things in life that Jimmy finds satisfying—squishing and molding slime with his fingers, running a hand over burlap sacks full to bursting of grain, skimming along the surface of the ocean with a pack of dolphins—but none of them even come close to punching Sausage square in the nose.

Sausage howls, trying to wriggle out from under him. Jimmy would’ve hit him again—he really wants to, after all—but before he gets the chance, there’s a bone-rattling roar from behind him and the force of it sends him and Sausage flying meters apart, both scrambling for purchase on the holey ground.

It’s enough to start his head spinning, but Jimmy starts to get back up, a bad taste in the back of his mouth.

There’s a rush of wind and a figure lands beside him, pulling him into a hug before he can even register what’s happening.

“Don’t you dare do that again!” Joel practically screams, gripping him so tight Jimmy can’t breathe. “Lucky Scott was awake—you could’ve died, you idiot—”

Joel cuts off his rambling when Jimmy buries his face in his chest, weak hands gripping him as tight as he can.

“Hey—it’s all right,” Joel says awkwardly, though he makes no move to detach himself from Jimmy.

Jimmy can’t bring himself to speak, just does his best to not cry. He’s alive, but it had been so close. He’d been mere moments from never seeing his family again, and now Joel is here and real and—

“You look terrible, Jim—why don’t you stay out of the way, yeah, and when we’re done here—”

“Sorry,” Jimmy chokes out, but he doesn’t let go. “I didn’t mean—it was—”

Joel shushes him, pats his shoulder lightly. “I’ve got to get back to it, but—stay here, yeah? We can talk later.”

And then Joel’s gone, and Sausage has run off too, and there’s so much going on that Jimmy doesn’t even know where to look.

And suddenly, it all explodes.

Not all of it, certainly, but the dragon does, rising into the air and bursting apart into little pops of light, creating a rather morbid fireworks show.

Across the battlefield, Jimmy sees Scott fall to his knees. Katherine shields her eyes to look up at the dragon. Pix lets his sword hang at his side.

And past the sounds of the dying dragon, Jimmy can hear a horrible, echoing laugh.

He may be alive, but they’ve lost.

 -

 None of the other emperors blame him. When he tries to apologize, they wave him off, say that it would have been found eventually.

He can see the disappointment in their eyes, though. Whatever his intentions, Jimmy has caused the rule of the demon.

It’s Pix who carries Jimmy to the Ocean Kingdom infirmary, who sits by his side through all the hustle and bustle and impromptu meetings of rulers, gathered in the infirmary both for Jimmy’s convenience and for treatment of various small wounds.

It’s a solemn gathering, bereft of the three on the other side, with Gem hovering awkwardly near the door as if she shouldn’t be here.

“It’s my fault as much as it is anyone’s,” she admits when Jimmy first tries to own up. “I knew they had the Codfather head, I’m so sorry, Jimmy—they told me they wanted to put it in the End, so I helped look for the portal. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“They shouldn’t have taken it in the first place,” Joel points out. Lizzie is beside him, radiating such powerful levels of anger that no one has been brave enough to meet her eyes, for fear that her ire will fall on them. “That was a violation of the House Blossom Alliance, and probably like, a declaration of war, honestly.”

“Jimmy—why didn’t you tell us that they took it?” asks Katherine, face twisted in a grimace as she applies pressure to a small but deep cut on her arm. “That seems like a very important piece of information. We could’ve helped!”

Jimmy avoids looking at Scott. “Political reasons,” he mutters. That doesn’t satisfy Katherine, though, so he amends to say, “To save face, mostly. Admitting that one of the most precious treasures of the Cod Empire had been stolen? Terrible for PR, and makes us look like a target.”

Gem knows something, Jimmy realizes with a sinking feeling as she shoots him a look, then glances away. Sausage must’ve shared with the rest of the Wither Rose Alliance the importance of the Codfather head.

Katherine, on the other hand, gasps. “Wait—your engagement, though! Was that just a cover-up, to make your empire appear stronger than ever? You guys tricked me?”

Right on the money. Jimmy opens his mouth, about to concede, but Scott interrupts.

“No,” Scott says firmly. Everyone looks toward him—leaning against the wall, hair messy, the permanent bags under his eyes heavy and dark. His eyes are fixed on Jimmy, who can’t seem to look away.

Scott loves him.

“The betrothal was rushed, for certain reasons, but I still intend to marry Jimmy,” Scott continues, and the way Jimmy’s stomach flips—

“Our betrothal may be put on hold to deal with recent developments. That does not mean we are not fully committed to each other, nor is it indicative of the legitimacy of our relationship. I will not be saying any more on the matter.”

Shubble changes the subject pretty quickly after that, but Jimmy can’t keep hold of the conversation. He just . . . gazes at Scott, Scott who loves him. Scott who just risked his life to save Jimmy, who held him and kissed him and said that he loved him.

He can only bask in the wonder of it for so long before it’s just too tiring to think of. His eyelids start drooping, and someone must notice, because at some point he blinks and the infirmary is nearly empty, just him and an attending nurse.

He should probably be involved in whatever discussion is going on without him, but he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to even get up, let alone walk to a meeting and stay awake for the entirety of it.

Instead, he leans back and lets his eyes flutter shut, happy to sleep. He can deal with the nagging guilt later. He needs rest right now.

He’s not sure how long he’s asleep, only that the lights are low when he wakes again, no sun shining through the windows.

That doesn’t tell him anything—when they’d returned from the fight, it had still been in the early hours of the morning. Has he been asleep for an entire day, then, and it’s night again, or has it been maybe an hour, the sun not yet risen?

There’s a creak beside him, and Jimmy starts, turns to look.

“Sorry,” Lizzie whispers, in a chair at Jimmy’s bedside. “I was on my way out, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

It’s Lizzie. It’s his sister, and he almost died and never saw her again and somehow he’s been so lucky as to have a second chance.

He struggles to sit up, his body so stiff it feels as though he’s been sleeping for a thousand years.

“Don't hurt yourself—” Lizzie moves to help him, hands steadying Jimmy’s shoulders. Jimmy, however, doesn’t lie back down—instead, he wraps his arms around Lizzie, holding her as tightly as his unforgiving muscles will allow.

Lizzie doesn’t react for a moment, but when she does, she sits on the bed beside him, hefting him partly into her lap and enveloping him in her arms.

And there, in the hold of his sister, Jimmy finally cries.

He’s alive, and his sister is alive, and they’re here together.

He’s not sure how long he quietly cries into Lizzie’s shirt, but when he raises his head at a sound, cheek sticking to her briefly, the room is still empty, door clicking shut. It’s just him, crying, and Lizzie, rubbing his arm comfortingly in a way that only family knows how.

“Sorry,” he croaks, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Lizzie hushes. “You just survived certain death. Scott said—” her voice breaks— “Scott said it was really close. That must have been traumatic.”

Jimmy nods. It was traumatic. And if what he’s been saying to Scott lately is true, then it’s okay to not be okay after such an ordeal. It’s okay to take time to get back to normal.

“And you know what?” Lizzie continues, squeezing his arm. “We may not admit it, but we all would have done the same. Scott showed us the messages he sent you. We all would have fallen for it.”

Jimmy doesn't want to think about that. He doesn’t want to consider how he’s caused many deaths and years of darkness.

He just grips Lizzie a little tighter, numb fingers curling in the fabric of her shirt.

“Sleep, please. You look exhausted.”

He needs to talk to Scott still. They need to figure out exactly what they are now, what that means for them in the future.

But not right now. Right now he can feel sleep pulling at him, allowing him to relax in the safe embrace of his sister.

Jimmy falls asleep, alive, and his family watches over him.

[22degreehalo]

Okay so. The scene in MonRoad where they talk about the possibility of Miranda marrying Damien and/or Dahlia in order to secure an alliance between the Merkingdom and Hell has me. Thinking.

Arranged marriage Miranda/Dahlia AU ahead!!!!

Sooooooooo first off the problem is that Miranda doesn’t like the idea of arranged marriages because they’re not fairytaleish enough and she only wants to marry for ~love~. And I kinda wanna make this a cliched corny Enemies To Lovers type thing because I think that’d be funnier and in the style of the game. But also Miranda’s sisters love her and would never push her into something she really didn’t want to do.

You could go dramatic with it but again I think it’d be more in-line with canon to just make it ridiculous and borderline non-sensical. So here’s my first draft: Miranda travels down to see her village again and when a peasant thrusts something at her she just signs it because she thinks they want an autograph because they obviously love her. But actually it is some kind of contract to do something, and also this is the 14th time this has happened, because Miranda always thinks that the village has fallen in love with her since her last visit, and this fake contract ruse is basically the village’s main way of actually petitioning change from the royals. (As a result they do actually like her quite a bit more which is why Miranda always gets her hopes up again.)

But the contract is for something that would be really really bad for Hell but like in a way that doesn’t seem obviously caused by them?? Probably because Hell completely dismisses the idea that the Merkingdom would actually do something to help its peasants. but anyway Hell gets a bit freaked and demands an alliance with the Merkingdom so they can help get things back. Specifically, marrying Miranda and Damien. As before Miranda refuses, but Bellanda and Laudanda remind her that Hell literally always betrays its allies so it’s just a matter of time before the call it off, and also this sets up a perfect situation for Miranda to be imprisoned and saved by her true love on a horse or something, so she shruggingly agrees.

BUT, conflict!!! The kings of hell were NOT informed that Damien was the currency and they are very very angry at the idea of their sweet baby boy being bartered off like that!! They take him out of the running and push Dahlia in instead, partially with the hope of curbing Dahlia’s ambitions by having her focus on conquering the Merkingdom instead. Miranda’s like whatever but Dahlia is NOT happy!!! She REFUSES to be second place to Damien in anything, and also it is her LIFE’S PASSION to conquer Hell; how is she going to do that from the Merkingdom?!

Dahlia goes to the meet up party where everyone’s wearing fancy dresses just so she can make it very clear she is NOT going along with this!!! She intends to jsut show up and punch out the guys involved and then leave but after she does that she realises that it’s Miranda and feels like she should at least talk to her. But she’s grumpy and takes it out on Miranda, who is still sorta uncertain about this whole thing, so sparks fly - and not (only) in the sexual tension way!! Dahlia insults the Merkingdom for being too prissy and weak, and Miranda for being too much like Damien that way as well, while Miranda becomes very offended and calls Dahlia a classless oaf and insults her willingness to wantonly slaughter people (tbh Miranda still isn’t that good at morality either but she is Angry and willing to take unjustified moral standards rn.)

Anyway Miranda goes back to her sisters fuming and insisting that all be called off! She could never, EVER fall in love with Dahlia Aquino!!!!!!! BUT, Laudanda is thoughtful. She tells Miranda that if she’s absolutely certain, they can do that. However... she has a sense that this could lead to a very good outcome. Particularly, ~true love~ for Miranda. Miranda assumes she means being rescued like they mentioned before, and hesitates. (But, ofc, Laudanda has already seen that Miranda and Dahlia will fall in love :) ) Amanda repeats that they can call it off if she really wants to, then falls silent. Miranda talks a little bit, and ends up talking herself out of it, just like Amanda is good at doing :)

Meanwhile Dahlia is mad but get convinced to keep it up just so she doesn’t like lose to Miranda or Damien somehow. The specifics don’t matter.

And thus, their whirlwind romance begins!!!!

Probably it begins with Dahlia reluctantly letting Miranda tag along with her while she hangs with her REAL friends: the Coven!!!! Joy isn’t too impressed with Another trouble-maker added along, but her Merkingdom royalty diplomacy skills actually end up being really helpful! (Dahlia is annoyed at not being able to fight their enemy but is cheered up when Miranda [or perhaps one of the PCs, who is trying their luck at matchmaking now?? or even Zoe lmao] convinces Dahlia that they actually metaphorically punched their anger or something.) Joy even says it’d be fine if Miranda joined and feels bad about saying that in front of Dahlia but then Dahlia is like ‘okay fine, I respect you now that we’re cult buddies’ and when Joy contradicts that Miranda verbally acknowledges her as a member of the club and then Hope or whoever is like ‘umm technically anyone in the coven can allow anyone else to join’ and Joy is MAD but whatever, Miranda isn’t really sure what’s going on but they are coven buddies :)

And then uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh there’s other stuff like maybe a callback to that event in MonProm. And maybe them eating food together. And DEFINITELY something abt Miranda finding Dahlia’s notebook with pink sparkly pen and finding it adorable!! And they realise they both have really similar tastes in a lot of things and go watch a Disney movie together <33

Plus there’s also like... Dahlia’s whole ‘haha you’re weak’ thing falls apart when Miranda always gets really impressed when Dahlia shows off her strength or whatever, and Dahlia really really enjoys that. (Like she said, she’s not really into the rivalmances!) She even enjoys teaching Miranda a bit because it means proof that she’s Better At That Thing, so Miranda gets to learn how to be a lil mor independent!! (OH maybe some of it starts bc Miranda wants to use a serf for something but Dahlia insists on doing it instead but Miranda feels bad making her do it so they compromise with Dahlia showing her?) And also Miranda shares some of what she’s been learning about treating serfs better, and Dahlia doesn’t much get it, but by explaining it to Dahlia Miranda finds herself understanding it better as well?

They end up having some long, deep conversations: Miranda talks about her difficulty living up to her sisters, and Dahlia admits that she’s jealous of her and Damien for having such loving family while she’s mostly been a loner, and that maybe her competitiveness with Damien is partly bc he’s just had being prince of hell handed to him and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever achieve anything that matches that no matter how hard she tries. Miranda admires her passion, but Dahlia admires Miranda’s ability to make connections with those around her, and they both enjoy the way they can live in the moment and enjoy the little things without shame!

EVENTUALLY it all culminates in like a big fancy monster ball/rave where everyone shows up!!!!! And somehow Miranda DOES end up trapped in a tower but like in a dumb ironic way that may or may not involve a pun. And Dahlia saves her!! And Miranda realises that DAHLIA was her true love all along!!!!!!!!!

But, CONFLICT!!!!!! due to mumble mumble circumstances, Hell has suddenly decided that Miranda has to marry Damien after all!!!! (Damien decided this for probably bad but at least vaguely serious reasons.) Dahlia gets super upset, because now this proves she’ll always be second to Damien, even in this matter which definitely doesn’t mean anything at all because she’s always hated Miranda!!!! (she yells this while sobbing and running away.)

OR!!!!!!! maybe actually Dahlia never heard that Damien was asked first (she was just mad about being pushed around by the kings of Hell) and Miranda realised that halfway through their courtship but didn’t mention it because she knew Dahlia would feel bad??? But now she feels awful because Dahlia heard about it int he worst way :(

And now Miranda feels so bad and guilty and sad and doesn’t know what to do. Like should she still marry Damien? For the good of her kingdom? Or maybe HE’S her actual true love??? She tries to force Laudanda to tell her what she predicted but she won’t say :( She goes to Amanda for help, but Amanda just sorta stays quiet and lets Miranda rant about all the conflicting things going on inside her until she realises that she really loves Dahlia and wants to be with her!!

And then Miranda has to go through some sort of trial testing all the things she and Dahlia learned together and win back her princess!!!!! And when she sees Miranda, Dahlia is so touched and impressed and realises that this means that she did beat Damien after all because Miranda chose her over him!!! It combines two of her favourite things in the world: beating Damien and kissing Miranda!!!!!! They make out :)

Together, they become a fearsome couple who defend their little baby village to the DEATH and are vicious to all outsiders <33333 The End~

[alyjojo]

The Person On Your Mind in October 🤵🏼‍♂️ 2023 - Taurus

Whole of their energy towards Taurus: 6 Pentacles

You’re being very kind to this person during a rough time, probably because you love them. I’m not picking up on a romantic thing, but messages indicate that, take it how it fits. You could be literally giving this person money, because how they feel is relating to debt, difficult times, a lack in some way, and you’re being generous to help them patch that up.

Feelings: 2 Wands

They anticipate heavy burdens, it looks like they’re looking for your support. They have deep emotions for you, love is on their side. 6 Pentacles is “I scratch your back, you scratch mine, we’re in this together”. I don’t get that you’re getting anything from this person though, and they show up as emotionally immature, with the mature King. It’s like a facade, they act like a wise all-knowing person, nurturing, loving, caring, but in reality they know they’re full of it. But…do you? Hopefully not, because you give them what they need, in whatever way. “Feeding” them. Yeesh 👀

I have to admit, I laid out cards before this reading and got similar energies that were WAY more contradictive. My brain was like 😵‍💫 and that never happens, I couldn’t even get a clear story out of that mess or even an energy from the person (more like 10 at once), and had to ask Spirit to rephrase plz, before I pulled this reading. This person makes my head hurt, they only make sense to themselves, but will die on that hill, and are pretty unreliable where you’re concerned. Could be very selfish. You must love them. If they make you crazy or feel like your head is spinning, that’s normal. For them. You probably already know that.

Intentions: The Sun

They intend to bring to light to the fact of, maybe you haven’t come around, or not as much, you’re not messaging or trying as hard. They intuitively feel that you’re mad at them, keeping secrets, giving them the silent treatment. There has been no progress from the last time they talked to you, and I don’t think that reflects on you. They haven’t, and feel like it’s your job to take their hand and pull them along with you or something.

I had to ask separately, is this a mental health thing? No. They’re just immature and have no filter. They’re loud, demanding, and “tell it like it is”, with the expectation of you doing what they want, and you’re being quiet, moving silently. It intimidates, unnerves, and confuses them. It’s like they’d rather you just yell at them, that’s an energy they can identify with.

Actions: Judgement rev & The Devil rev

They refuse to learn a lesson. Or they don’t have the mental capacity to do so. Or they just don’t care/try. Queen of Pentacles would be you, you’ve told them what the problem is, and have overcome this on your own. And they’re still like “wut”. But…give me what I need! FEED ME! 🪴👹

You’re protected from whatever bs this person is on. You’re nice to them, maybe even giving them something, money, support of some kind, a shoulder to lean on in rough times. But you’re not allowing the same shit twice, you’ve learned the lesson, Page of Swords - you paid attention, watched them closely, and drew your sword like “tf, you thought” if they even try coming at you however they had been, this defensive yet needy sort of energy, masked by “I care so much aw”, after whatever other bs they do or don’t, that’s bologna. They can’t release toxic patterns because they are unconscious to them.

I had to ask - where is the future headed for these two people? 3 Swords rev. You’re getting over this mindfk of a connection, and moving away from it, good for you. I can see you tried. Messages are very loving, hopefully this isn’t a partner, that makes this even harder to deal with 💯

Messages:

Their side:

- Forever Love ❤️

- Emotionally Immature

Your side:

- I don’t want anyone else.

- Darker skin tone

Possible signs:

Heavy Leo, Scorpio, Taurus, Aries & Capricorn

If you’re dealing with:

The Chariot shows you being driven, ambitious, highly motivated and heading down the path of your choosing, not allowing anyone or anything to get in your way, pure willpower. Some of you could be planning to travel, and some of these people may live at a distance, or you’re putting actual distance between yourself and them, especially this person.

Aries - there’s mutual love between you, but also a lot of drama and heartache that you’ve moved away from, or you’ve/they’ve literally moved

Taurus - finds you extremely attractive, coming back out of a solitary period, they feel drawn to you & it’s a very deep connection with The Lovers

Gemini - fears the worst of everything regarding you, or switch it, something is hidden, toxic, obsessive & clarity is needed…or you’re just cutting this off because of all of that

Cancer - hopes you experience a Tower, they’re jealous of something/someone you have, they wanted the same thing…petty/gross 🙄

Leo - feels abandoned by family (you?) or could be going through rough times at work, or financial problems due to family (you?)

Virgo - waiting on you to decide on something, because they have no idea what to do

Libra - nostalgic about you but not saying or doing anything, because they’ve put you through hell already, or switch it

Scorpio - happy about canceled plans

Sagittarius - confessing something or being completely open and honest because they want another chance or cycle with you

Capricorn - deciding whether or not to apologize, or whether to accept yours, could just be waiting for tempers to die down…which means they’re up rn.

Aquarius - things are changing with their work, or with you, could be a destined/karmic connection or things are out of your control with them, it’s changing

Pisces - cares deeply, willing to put in the work, but one of you is super passive and the other is super aggressive, or you’re both just passive/aggressive, but it’s like oil & water with you two 😑

[terristack]

Blueprint reading

BLUEPRINT READING HOW TO

BLUEPRINT READING CODE

Consulting the BLS statistics again reveals that, in contrast to regular construction workers, electricians and maintenance workers who regularly use these blueprints in their day-to-day work are expected to be licensed and fully trained through an apprenticeship program at least. It should come as no surprise, then, that education is vital when dealing with electrical blueprints. This increased responsibility is part of the reason why extra training in this area is such a good idea – it’s not enough to be partially trained or to learn on the job when people’s lives are at risk. The whole system can also become prone to failure, putting occupants of the building at risk of having critical parts like air conditioning and elevator cars become useless. If any part of the drawing is forgotten or misinterpreted, the safety precautions taken by the designer may not work as intended and issues like errant sparks and electrical fires become major risks. It’s absolutely vital that anyone who reads an electrical blueprint can fully understand it down to the last detail so that they can follow its instructions competently and exactly. Sound complicated? It is, but none of these things can just be glossed over.

BLUEPRINT READING CODE

Know the National Electrical Code (NEC) like the back of your hand.Be able to identify critical nodes (points at which many separate wires connect which are subject to significantly more stress than most).Understand the flow of the circuit and how the power will be distributed across the lines.Be extremely familiar with all symbols and their meanings (some are very similar, but mix up a pre-set resistor and a variable resistor and you’ll be sorry!).To read an electrical blueprint, you should, among other things: Accessing all this information can be quite demanding, since a fair amount of specialized knowledge is required. Once a designer has laid out all wiring, connections, and other important elements, the pictorial instructions of the blueprint must be followed to the letter. Becoming Literate in Electrical Blueprints Deciding how much power the wiring will be able to deliver to each part of the building and where the outlets can most easily and conveniently be placed are all conundrums that are worked out in the process of drafting the blueprint. They involve different considerations than traditional blueprints instead of starting mostly from scratch, the designer must work within the given parameters of the structure to create the safest, most useful electrical system possible. These documents lay out the wiring and connections that deliver electricity throughout the building and ensure that this infrastructure will be compliant with all current codes and bylaws. These blueprints can be difficult for industry outsiders to grasp.

BLUEPRINT READING HOW TO

A closer look at the annotations lets you see all the mathematical details that keep the building standing and solid, and most of these are denoted with clear markers that can be decoded with the accompanying legend.Ĭonstruction workers frequently consult blueprints as they build to make sure that their work isn’t deviating from the overall design, and the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) states that most of these workers have little to no formal training in their industry – it is assumed that they will soon figure out how to parse these blueprints with a little practice.Įlectrical blueprints, however, are a different story there are many specialized aspects to them. If you’re already familiar with the concept of space and dimensions, you get the gist of what the blueprint is trying to tell you just by glancing at it. While they’re still specialized documents, it usually isn’t too hard to read standard blueprints as a layperson. Electrical blueprint reading isn’t something you just pick up on the job – it’s a skill that requires a knowledge and understanding to fully master. Chief among them is their level of accessibility. The two types of plans differ in many significant ways. General blueprints are a well-known and integral part of construction, but their less-prominent counterpart, electrical blueprints, are just as important. Tags: blueprints, electrical blueprints, how to read electrical blueprints, reading blueprints

[lurking-latinist]

I want fanart of Seward comforting Arthur while he cries on my desk by the end of the day

[not-she-which-burns-in-it]

OFMD and Breathwork Part 2 - The Kiss Scene

Much later than intended but I’m back, as promised, with the part 2 of my breath and voice work thread, this time looking at the kiss scene in Episode 9.

I really thought this was going to be more fun, but turns out it was mostly sad. Oh no. But before we get sad, let's do a part 2 of the basics. If you’re just joining, please read the other thread (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/not-she-which-burns-in-it/686892030208638976?source=share) for info on where breath comes from in your body (in an acting sense) and how it affects the tension of the scene. This time we’re gonna focus on the pace of the scene, and when in your breathing cycle you begin speaking, and how that reflects the acting choices you make. 

LET’S DIVE IN!

BREATHING 202 - PACE

Ok, we’re working with my crude drawings this time, I’m so sorry. Here is a line of your breath. Line goes up for breathing in, line goes down for breathing out. Pretty self explanatory.

When you’re awake and talking, the breath cycle isn't really gonna look that smooth. The lower line for instance is more like your deep relaxed breath - breathe in deeply, quick at first and then slowing down as your lungs reach a comfortably full level. Then slowly breathing out in a long tail. As soon as you’re done, you breathe back in, no pause. This really makes more sense when you try it. Try breathing in following the lines, we’re all gonna learn today. 

Now here are some simplified spots where you might start speaking in your breath cycle, meaning how much air is in your lungs when you start making words happen. Let’s take a look at them:

So, we put all this together and we get a map of intentions. Especially when we combine this breathwork with the info from part 1, and all the other pieces of acting - micro expressions, body language, non-fluencies (uhms, ahhs, sighs) - we can glean SO MUCH about the acting choices and storytelling. If I ever get around to a Part 3, I’ll do the intro section on Spicy Breath and Vocal Work, I promise. That’s a whole thing. But for now let’s get to the kiss scene. I looked at the whole scene, not just the kiss itself, because the story demanded it.

THE SCENE BEFORE

Ok, in order to talk about this scene we have to go back to where we last saw Stede. Everything starts going wrong right here in this gif. The music that plays at the top of the kiss scene starts 5 minutes earlier in this moment. The second Stede learns that Mary reported him as dead, the smile falls off his face and this delicate piano music comes in (I quit music school to study theater but I can tell you it’s in a minor key). 

That leads us into the bunk bed scene - that music is still playing - where he’s wondering aloud whether Mary really thinks he’s dead or just reported him dead out of spite. He’s flashing back to his family, the worry for his children starts creeping in. Mary is still coded like an antagonist at this point, but the phrasing “do they really think I’m dead”, tells us he’s worried about his children mourning his death while he’s off being happy and falling in love. The music cuts out the second Ed appears. Ed clears away Stede’s troubled thoughts. Awww. But oh no, it’s doesn’t last. This conversation with Ed doesn’t make him feel any better, it makes him feel worse. Look at his face when Ed says “It’s time to accept our fate”

Stede is so upset he literally runs away. He darts out of the dormitory out toward the water leaving Ed sitting on his bed. And Ed is not oblivious to this, he’s worried. His mouth is tight, his brow is furrowed, and his eyes are casting down and around as if looking for an explanation. He’s upset, why?

Now, Ed isn’t stupid, he can think of a bunch of reasons why Stede might be upset, they’ve been captured and are losing their freedom. Of course, Ed has missed the key element here, which is Stede’s bottomless pit of worthless self-image. So what does Ed gather from this - Ed is ok with his adventurous life being over, but Stede is not. This is a good theory from Ed’s perspective, he is ready to stop being Blackbeard but Stede just got started as the Gentleman Pirate, it makes sense for him to be not find joy in moving on from that life. 

SO. The beach. We start with the same melancholy piano music picking back up. More flashbacks to playing with his children. Look at his body language, he’s curled up staring out at the sea. His knees are pulled up like they were when Ed left him for Calico Jack. His hands are on his knees holding himself together, and his thumbs are gently sweeping back and forth across his kneecaps - trying to sooth himself. Honestly he looks like he’s about to cry, his lips press together and he breathes in deep. There’s no one for him to speak to, he’s alone, the breath is to either tamp down the wave of emotion or let it out. But whatever he’s about to do, Ed immediately derails that plan.

And this takes us into the kiss scene. Stede is wallowing in guilt over his family, and guilt over dragging Edward into all this with him. Ed is looking to convince him to look on the bright side. Now you can “look on the bright side” of loss especially if you’re gaining something else. “Hey you can’t be a fancy pirate, but maybe you can have me” Excellent proposition Ed, well done. Tragically, that’s not the problem. You can’t cheer someone up from guilt and feelings of worthlessness, it will in fact make them feel worse. “Hey you feel bad for being happy while your family is in trouble, what if, we had even more happiness together?”

THE SCENE

“There you are” implying he’s been looking all over for him. And look how close he sits. They don’t appear to be touching, but it’s a couple inches at best between them. Now it’s Ed’s turn to let out a breath. He settles himself with it. It’s not clear whether it’s relaxing, now that he knows Stede is ok, or if it’s a determined breath because he has an idea of how to fix Stede’s sadness and he’s come looking for him to do just that.

He starts with a joke, but this isn’t his boisterous joking voice, it’s not even his normal speaking voice, it’s soft, gentle, and from the throat (check part 1 for what that means) it’s very similar to the way Stede speaks to Ed in the moonlight, or in the bathtub scene. It’s soothing and intimate. Given the sudden breath in and out before he starts, I’m guessing the intention was to start with a “tell me what’s wrong” sort of approach and he chickened out and went for a joke. But his voice is still in the soft “tell me what’s wrong” tone and volume. Adorable. But Stede brushes it off, “Oh come on, stupid idea”. It’s even softer in vocal quality than Ed. But somehow it’s not increasing the intimacy, it’s creating distance. How? Because the lack of volume and vocal support isn’t to draw Ed closer, it’s because Stede isn’t really talking to him, he’s talking to himself. As soon as he says it, Ed looks down and stops smiling. It’s hard to catch because he’s blurry in the foreground, but you can see the concern immediately rush back in oh this isn’t something easily fixed. Here’s where I get sad already. Stede looks at Ed to gauge his reaction before doubling down on the negative self-talk. By the time Stede looks at Ed, Ed is no longer smiling gently at Stede. All Stede sees is a concerned frown. He’s concerned for Stede, but Stede’s never gonna see it that way. The “Oh shut up” response is so quick, it’s reflexive. I’d bet anything it’s a #1 (Speaking before you breathe in) but I can’t tell where he is in his natural breath cycle to say for sure. But instead of engaging with his own emotions, Stede pivots to Ed’s emotional state instead. This is a recurrence in their relationship where Ed is emotionally vulnerable and Stede provides comfort and support. Stede is much less willing to share his own feelings - so much for his “talk it through as a crew” motto. Ed unfortunately (fortunately?) takes the bait.

Stede’s at a normal breath placement (either a #2 or #4), but listen to his emphasis “how are you handling this so well” - compared to Stede handling it very poorly. But again, we’re not saying that outloud.

Listen to Edward’s speech here, this is a great example of using breath to pace a speech where your character is discovering each piece of what he’s saying as he’s saying it. He’s taking small breaths in between each new idea. I’ve added tally marks here to visualize it. “I don’t know [///] It’s kinda nice just to take a load off [//] Just to [/] Just to be [/] Edward [//] I don’t know if I wanna go back to the old days [/] just drinking all day and [/] biting the heads off turtles or [/] making some poor bloke eat his own toes as a laugh [//]” 

Notice how the word “Edward” is completely isolated by breath. It’s HUGE for him to acknowledge Edward’s desires are different from Blackbeard’s. It’s something Izzy seems to have been aware of from the beginning, but Edward really only realized once Stede came into his life. Stede, bless his refined little heart. Takes a full breath in to not respond to the “eat his own toes” comment. Because he’s polite, and loves Ed, and doesn’t want to derail the emotional sharing by over-reacting. But you can see it in the immediate and deep furrow of his brow.

When Ed starts speaking again, he’s a little more hurried to get the thought out. The biggest note is the separation of the word “Ed” again, it’s revelatory to not just recognize the parts of him have different desires but that he should prioritize Edward’s desires and needs over Blackbeard’s. And BOY OH BOY does he act on that realization immediately. Because what Ed wants is 1,000% clear to this man. 

BUT STEDE MISSES THIS DISTINCTION. 

Listen to his emphasis. He matches the structure but he puts the emphasis on happy not on Ed. 

“What makes Ed happy” vs “What makes Ed happy?” It’s a subtle difference but extremely important. Because Stede thinks he’s saying 

“Pirating has made me happy until now, but I guess, since there is no escape, no way back to that life, I want to be as happy as I can…” But in reality he’s saying “Pirating made Blackbeard happy, but for the first time, I want to focus on what makes Ed happy, because I enjoy being Edward…” But let’s finish that thought and really cry. More breath tally marks, because they’re important.

“[//] These past [/] few weeks [//] have been [//] the most fun I’ve had in ages [/] years [/] maybe ever. [///] so [//] so uh [/] I reckon [/] what makes Ed happy [//] is [///] you.” Again, we’re getting breath in between each new thought, or each moment where he needs to gather strength to get these words out. This time instead of “Ed” being isolated by breath, the word is “you”. Stab me in the heart. Confessing your love for someone is hard, oh wow it’s scary, and Ed needs all the breath support he can get. He’s also not speaking very loud. They’re so close to each other, these breaths are tiny little snatches of air. That last phrase though. “What makes Ed happy is you” Why does it sound so breathless if he’s taking so much time to breathe? Let’s Map It Out! (THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT)

Ed getting that last word out with the last bit of air in his body is EVERYTHING. It’s desperate. It’s vulnerable. It’s so unsure of what happens next or if he should be saying it at all. It’s taking a huge chance because this is the moment things between them go from subtext to text. This isn’t just saying “Hey, let’s bang” it’s saying “I have soft squishy feelings for you, and maybe that makes me weak but I don’t care because you make me happy”. And Stede is FLOORED. The Gnossienne No 5 comes in, and everything is good. His whole face lifts up like the simple act of making another person happy is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him. Especially since he started out this scene dwelling on how much he’d disappointed his family, his parents, how he’d made this difficult for his crew and Ed, and everyone in his life. For Ed - glorious, wonderful, legendary Ed - to say that Stede is what makes him happy. Holy Shit. That’s groundbreaking for Stede. This is the first and only real smile we get from him in the whole scene. You can see the worries lift off him for a second. And before he can say something stupid: the kiss. 

THE KISS

Ed reaches around to anchor Stede’s opposite shoulder as he presses in - both to angle him properly and to stop him from startling away. Not in a forced manner, his touch is gentle, moreso he’s aware that Stede’s not experienced at this and he’s guiding the moment. So thoughtful. Also, so soft, my god.

Stede responds to the kiss immediately, he’s not just passively being kissed. Eyes closed and lips pressed forward, he’s about it. And he moves his lips on Ed’s to find a better position. As Ed shifts forward more and brings his left hand up to Stede’s shoulder he’s turning his whole body into the kiss, gently stroking his right hand down Stede’s back. The rustle sound you hear is Ed pulling his leg up in the sand to get better leverage turning to Stede. Stede meanwhile sweeps his arm forward toward Ed. I can’t see where his hand lands, but it looks like it’s going for Ed’s knee. 

Ed breathes in before he kisses Stede, (part one call back) but it’s hard to catch because he doesn’t do it until he starts moving. I LOVE this because it implies he didn’t decide to kiss Stede until he was already doing it. It’s a small catch breath, not much air, and certainly not enough for a big romantic kiss. So we hear Ed breath in bigger through his nose as they kiss - breathing is not important enough to stop kissing Stede - right before he starts shifting his body. After he shifts you hear him breathe out, again through his nose because he’s not stopping this kiss for any single reason. But it comes out slow like he’s sighing into the kiss. 

They are both pressing forward, despite the shifting bodies and sweeping hands, their lips don’t part. After they reposition their bodies, Ed turns his head to deepen the kiss just a little and we get that tiny tiny whimper noise from Stede and all my braincells explode into gay glitter. 

I’m not sure Stede is breathing at all here. He might breathe in a bit when they shift, but I’m not sure. I think it’s just internet start-up noises in there. Which might add to his dazed expression and whispered response post-kiss. When Stede opens his eyes he’s looking at Ed’s lips, briefly, before his glance goes back to Ed’s eyes. This moment is pure joy. Even if the guilt comes rushing back in, this moment is golden.

POST KISS 

Stede’s line “You make Stede happy” is in the softest whisper. And they stay at this intimate whispered level until Ed’s plan starts to form. We really hear Ed’s voice come back on “There’s always an escape” while Stede responds in a whisper, not yet bought into this plan.

It’s not until “China” that things start to go wrong. As soon as Stede says China, his glance skitters away and down. He hedges, “That’s quite far away.” Ed interprets this as “Can we get that far” when really Stede means “Maybe we shouldn’t go that far.” But alas, Ed doubles down on the thing Stede is most worried about “Our old lives will be gone, never were.”

Stede looks down again, to the same spot, and the cut away tells us he’s thinking of Mary. And the clip is significant here. It’s both a refutation of Ed’s point “We can start a new life” vs “We only have one life.” And the bits about “We never would have chosen each other.” relay strongly to themes of found family. Because Stede wouldn’t just be abandoning his family in Barbados by running away to China, he’d also be abandoning his Found Family on the Revenge. I genuinely wonder if we would have gotten this anxious guilt reaction if Ed had simply proposed going back to The Revenge. It would have felt less like an abandonment to Stede, and “now or never” in getting closure with Mary and the kids. But. We’ll never know. SO. We’d looked at Ed’s breath in his decision moment, now let’s look at Stede’s. Right before this cut away to Mary, Ed asks “What do you say?” Stede breathes deeply in and out. We come back from the cut away to see him finishing that exhale as he looks out to the ocean. He doesn’t breathe in. He presses his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t breathe in. He swallows nervously and looks back at Ed. He STILL doesn’t breathe in. “Yeah.”

https://youtu.be/cQC_7HAMza4

He’s 100% speaking with no air. He desperately needs to breathe in and feel steady, get support for his words, and think clearly, but no. The word just escapes him in this desperate whisper. It sounds like somebody punched it out of him. I think Ed misses it because he assumes Stede is nervous for the dangerous escape, or just flustered from the kiss. But folks, if you’re asking someone something really important and they say Yes in that tone, and then make THIS face.

Stop and clarify that they’re ok, and that they actually want whatever it is. Because wow, this is a cry for help. Also, listen to the music at this exact moment, it does this discordant little minor trip that just SOUNDS uneasy. Brilliant music design here folks. It trills up when Ed realizes Stede is saying yes, and then comes jarring back down when Stede makes this face. OUCH.

I love the mirroring of breath between Ed’s “...you” and Stede’s “...yeah” - one is so full of hope while the other is so full of despair and yet they are physically executed in the same way. Brilliant, so painful, thank you David Jenkins. It’s also further proof that Stede’s breakdown was not just from Chauncy, but a crash and burn that he was headed to from the moment they got to the island. Ed’s phrasing here also mirror’s the bathtub scene “I was suppose to kill…. you” as many people have pointed out. But here’s the thing, that scene brings them closer together because Ed is being vulnerable and Stede is providing support. Stede is comfortable with that role, because he doesn’t have to examine any of his own feelings and desires. This scene is the opposite. Despite Ed making the love confession, this scene is about providing Stede emotional support. Stede is ZERO percent ok with openly acknowledging what he wants or needs, which again leads to this face. 

I don’t think he was planning on ditching Edward the way he did though. Not based on this physicality. This SCREAMS “maybe if I just keep pushing these bad feelings down they’ll go away.” Thank you Mary Bonnet for shaking that out of him with a well-placed skewer to the ear hole. Therapy for everyone in Season 2!

Part 3??

Someday I’ll make a part 3, I’m not making any promises of when this time - I’ve learned! But I really want to look at Ed’s physicality around Calico Jack vs his physicality around Stede because it’s fucking fascinating. As I said at the top the intro lesson will be on intimacy work because SPICY.

Anyway I’ve written like 3,000 words at this point and I have to stop. Likes and comments really make my day - thank you all for the interaction from part one (which is here if you need it:

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/not-she-which-burns-in-it/686892030208638976?source=share

)  And come follow me on Twitter @/shewhich that’s where most of my brainrot content lives these days.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down. 

    “Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?” 

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place. 

    “Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

    “(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

    “How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side. 

    “I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

    “Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him. 

    “That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you. 

Jackass. 

    “Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you. 

    “Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

    “Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

    “I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.” 

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

    “Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him. 

    “Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.”  The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously, 

    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear. 

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you. 

    “That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull, 

    “What Tommy?” 

    “Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable. 

     “T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head: 

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’ 

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword. 

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid. 

    “Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him. 

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

    “What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken. 

    “The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied. 

    “That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?” 

    “What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down. 

    “I’m single.” 

    “Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist. 

    “Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly. 

    “Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you, 

    “See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully. 

    “She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft” 

    “Not brothers and I don’t like him.” 

    “Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly. 

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug. 

    “(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms. 

    “Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.” 

    “Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?” 

    “I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.” 

    “WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!” 

    “Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay. 

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

[bestworstcase]

I was thinking about Oz using the Sword to win the Great War then immediately shoving the Relics into the Vaults speaks to how much he doesn't want to unite the world by the sword, when, it came to mind, GoL probably intended that by default? Like, Oz only sees the Relics as things to put together when the time is right or risk the end, but they're real convenient superweapons for turning people back to Light. It just hits me that, he REALLY could've missed the entire point. 1/2

Like, Oz thinks no one should know about the Relics but him. That fear is the greatest enemy of his cause. That a crusade isn't what God asked of him. But four tangible miracles that can avert or confirm armageddon are the perfect tool for religious oppression, and it's questionable to think GoL expected Oz to take as long as he has with that in his corner? The divine mandate fails because its broken fool of a champion is still the guy who thinks women shouldn't be locked in towers... 2/2

what i always end up looping back around to on the subject of the mandate is that. the gods did not kill everyone on the planet because humanity was divided; they did that to punish a REBELLION. a proportionally small group of humans defied the gods, so the gods destroyed humanity in retaliation.

(the action that seems to have provoked this specifically is humans turning their divine gifts against their creators—magic in this case—which i also think sheds some light on why what salem did before the rebellion infuriated the gods SO much; choice was GOL’s gift and she used it to defy him, and knowledge was GOD’s gift and she withheld information from him, ergo, she used their gifts against them so they punished her.)

i think that’s really important to bear in mind vis-a-vis ozma’s divine mandate, the exact wording of which is “if your kind has learned to live in harmony with one another and set aside your differences, then we shall once again live among you and humanity shall be made whole again; but if your kind is unchanged, if you demand our blessings while still fighting among yourselves, then mankind will be found irredeemable and your world will be wiped from existence.”

and it’s—on its face—kind of weird? because it doesn’t really seem connected to any of what happened with salem prior to the massacre. but if you think about it from GOL’s point of view, it makes perfect sense:

1. light’s intention with humankind was to devise an experiment that would end the conflict between himself and his brother.

2. it is fairly clear from his behavior towards dark that light isn’t interested in compromise; he wants to do as he pleases and he also wants to lay down rules for his brother to follow.

3. when challenged by his brother, light reacts first with a show of stern paternalism, and then when that fails, a small show of force before redirecting dark’s wrath towards salem. he reacts, in short, exactly as one would expect from an authoritarian.

4. salem led her followers to reject the authority of the gods altogether and attack them—misusing (in light’s eyes) the choice he gave and implicitly siding with his brother over him by embracing the destructive side of their natures, which in turn gave dark an excuse to gleefully atomize them all. vexing!

5. a bajillion years later, after salem has grimmified herself, light drags ozma out of the void and goes: here are four relics mankind can use to remake yourselves, we’ll come back when you put them together, if you peons haven’t changed by the time we get back we’ll blow all of you up again and your little planet too.

that he also specifies “demand our blessings” as a criteria that will doom humanity to extermination makes it pretty clear that light still very much has salem on his mind—the literal first thing he said to salem, when she had done nothing but humbly fall to her knees before him to say ��please bring him back,” was “you demand of me that which i cannot make so” and there are several other instances after that of one or both gods scolding salem for “making demands”—so there is a definite subtext here of light expecting ozma to stamp out any remaining whiff of rebellion against the gods.

(and it’s also a trap: if a grieving young widow choking out “please bring him back” through her tears constitutes a DEMAND, and humanity’s reward for proving worthy involves being “made whole” i.e. divine blessings will be restored, then it seems to me very likely that humans merely pleading for their own right to exist might be interpreted by light as humanity “demanding blessings” and become grounds for wiping them out)

but—anyway—where i’m going with this is i think light very much wants ozma to somehow guide or sculpt humanity into, essentially, a model of light’s ideal of what ‘harmony’ between him and his brother ought to look like; he wants nominal equality between creation and destruction but for destruction to only happen when and how he approves of it. he wants his little experiment with free will to be exactly like him and do everything the way he would do it, never the way his brother would, because that’s what ‘harmony’ means to him and the Literal Intended Purpose of humanity is to resolve the unresolvable conflict between the gods.

(which is one of many reasons why i think “fuck you we’re not remaking ourselves we’re remaking YOU” has a high likelihood of being the solution to the god problem.)

anyway—so,

i one hundred percent believe that light’s intention was for ozma to go around rooting out dark’s influence and using the relics to, literally remake human nature into what light wants it to be, i think light was being VERY LITERAL when he said he was leaving the relics behind in the hopes that humankind would remake themselves. whether that looks like a religious crusade in his mind or not, i’m not sure—certainly we haven’t seen enough of what light’s worship looked like before salem got under his skin to say whether he’d be willing to countenance wars of subjugation in his name—but whether he realizes it or not that’s legitimately the only way to kind of, sort of get what he’s asking for, because what he really wants is Absolute Obedience.

and… i honestly don’t think that light entirely realizes that that’s what he wants? he strikes me as having drunk his own koolaid and i think he truly does conceive of himself as this irreproachably benevolent if strict paternal figure guiding humanity toward the ‘right’ path, and he absolutely does not understand humanity at all, so i don’t think he even has the capacity to understand that if he gets what he wants the end result won’t even be human anymore? and that pure lack of knowledge is the most dangerous thing about him and the primary reason i think dark is actually the lesser threat, of the two of them. (dark is capricious and fickle but sometimes it pleases him to be kind, and salem was able to make an emotional connection with him by appealing to his loneliness; that is, very slightly, better than an unyielding autocrat who can’t fathom human nature and keeps trying to correct it.)

i’m also of the opinion that on some subconscious level ozma Grasps This, that in order to save humanity he would need to become a tyrant, ruthlessly enforce light’s design, and he… doesn’t have the stomach to do that and he’s too terrified of failure to even think about rejecting the gods so we get the single-minded fixation on destroying salem (which has fuck all to do with his task except insofar as he’s convinced himself that all bad things come from her) and the wildly self-sabotaging methods he brings to that quest. if he buries it all and mires himself in this conflict with her then he can at least cling to the idea that it’s all his fault and his responsibility and the threadbare illusion of autonomy that comes along with that, you know?

tangentially i think one of if not the foremost reasons ozpin stashed the relics in vaults HE COULDN’T OPEN was because he no longer trusted himself to hold onto all four without, like, giving up and putting them together so he could Be Done. he is 1000% projecting when he insists salem’s plan is definitely for sure suicide by eschaton

[thespoonisvictory]

*warning for dream critical, and pointless rambling about point systems and the nature off mcc. I am not an expert, nor do I think dream should be sent any hate, or that he even really deserves actual criticism for it*

sooo dream posted this on his reddit, as I’m sure you’ve heard. here are my thoughts, because I have a lot to say.

first of all, the fact that dream doesn’t list any pvp games as his strengths is laughable. he’s undeniably a god at both sb and sg, and yet these aren’t strengths for him? he really thinks he’s better at hitw than skybattle? but obviously, if he lists those, he can’t say the point system is against him. but anyway. the tournament isn’t making him play worse, he’s playing worse, and pinning it on the tournament in general is silly.

I don’t think he’s trying to say that mcc is like rigged against him, nor is this particularly hateful, but it comes across as very entitled and oblivious to the reason why mcc exists, which I’ll get into.

Sands of Time: this is a great idea! until you... actually think about it. vaults in particular don’t work, because how can you argue that splitting vaults is more fair when usually one person finds the key and one person finds the vault itself. what about people who spend more time on puzzles or combat to unlock other areas instead of getting coins? what about sand that other people have collected that shouldn’t ‘belong’ to the sand keeper? do they deserve points for that? it’s messy at best, and keeping the points grouped and then split is the simplest and most effective way to keep it fair.

but beyond that, sot is a team game. you’re meant to work with your teammates to most effectively explore the vault, and although individual performance matters, team communication and strategy is much more important, and it’s reflected in the scores.

Parkour Tag: I’m going to trust dream’s word on this one, as many other people such as op have corroborated it. points should be fixed to better reflect the hunter’s skills.

HITW: uhhh, you get a big bonus because you survived the hardest walls my guy. it’s like getting win points for sg, you get it because you were the best, and because you effectively beat the game. also, I hate to say it but if you’re never getting to the end in hitw then you’re not that good lmao

Parkour Warrior: I don’t think he’s blaming mcc for this, or even saying it should be brought back, but like, pw was removed for a reason. the over-practicing done by some competitors forced the difficulty to be raised so far above the average person that parkour was now a miserable experience for 80% of competitors and their viewers. people weren’t having fun, and it wasn’t an engaging game if you weren’t great at it, so it got knocked. it was for the good of the tournament and the players, not to hurt dream’s ego.

TGTTOS: now this is where it gets batshit. ok, first of all, dream suggests that it’s almost impossible to use teamwork, something disproved by watching literally any perspective where teammates guide each other through the map, give tips, and shout out which directions to go. hell, group bridging has proved very effective. then, he suggests that the team bonus is bad because it gives more points to good teams... and this is a bad thing.

the team bonus is such a wonderful implement because it encourages teams where everyone contributes equally. unlike stuff like hitw, where one good player can carry a team to 1st, tgttos team bonuses mean that the strongest overall team usually wins, not the one with the strongest individual player. which is good! because this is a team tournament!

Overall: besides the impracticality of resorting the entire points system to cater to his ‘strengths’, the issue with this mindset. mcc isn’t about individual points, it’s about how you do as a team. the top two players don’t face off in dodgebolt, afterall. having shared points and team benefit encourages that the winning team is one where every player contributes and works together, instead of a few players individually being skilled. but this isn’t that for dream, and I think that’s blatantly clear. I understand that he wants to show his skill, but mcc is a tournament started by scott as a way to play with his friends for fun. It’s about meeting new people and networking and sometimes making money for charity, not a try-hard competition.

and if he wants to take it competitively, that’s fine, but other people try as well, and yet no one else is complaining.

techno didn’t complain when they changed game rules like five times to nerf him, he just adapted.

players who perform roles like woolplacer in bb don’t complain about the loss of points, they just do their job.

the hermits, especially grian, certainly haven’t played this season, despite having two of their strongest games removed from circulation (bingo and rocket spleef).

other than parkour warrior complaints raised as a community, I can’t think of anyone else that has demanded a change in points to better suit them. It comes off as incredibly egotistical to believe that can tell mcc how their tournament should be run, and that it should cater to the small percentage of people who want to take it that competitively. above all, it comes off as naive to what mcc is actually about, even if he didn’t intend for this to sound as off as it did to me. 

tldr: dream pls calm down and stop trying to make a for fun tournament your place to show off, it’s for fun.

[whythinktoomuch]

Tentatively stepping through the doorway, Lena was greeted by the natural wintry gleam of the Fortress of Solitude. She had only been there that one time all those months ago, but the surroundings appeared familiar enough, seemingly burned into her memories as a particularly difficult flashbulb of an experience.

Cold. Dimmed lighting. Wide open spaces that gave off the illusion of emptiness despite holding some of the most important secrets to be kept in the world.

And in the middle of it all, stood Kara Danvers, still dressed in her Super regalia, staring off into the distance like little else mattered.

“Kara.” Lena rushed forward, the clack of her heels bouncing off the polished walls in an anxious rhythm that rivaled that of her heart.

Kara looked over, blank expression slipping slightly. “Lena?” she murmured, sounding surprised, though not at all startled. “How’d you get out?”

“… Out?” Lena echoed, but Kara didn’t elaborate. Maybe the disconnect was to be expected though, and there were more important things at stake for the moment, so, “Kara, you need to come back.”

“Back.” Kara chewed on the word, tasting the implications like they weren’t quite to her liking. Then she gave a single nod. “Oh. I see.” And with that, Kara turned her back on Lena and walked right off, right into the distance that gradually converged into a yawning doorway.

--

Lena had no choice but to chase after her. “I know why you’re doing this, Kara. And you have to know that it wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

Kara didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Her silence was already speaking volumes just by stretching on and on, running parallel to the seemingly never-ending hallway.

“Will you at least explain what you’re doing here?” Lena demanded, her patience eaten up by a sense of urgency that was somehow eluding Kara. Time was of the utmost importance—that much had been impressed upon her repeatedly and emphatically before she made this journey. “Look, I’m not going to leave until you talk to me.”

Mild amusement flitted over Kara’s features as she looked back at Lena. “How’d you even get here?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

Then when Kara made no move to continue their conversation, Lena sighed in exasperation, “I have my ways, okay?”

“Of course you do,” Kara said easily. “I’m just… surprised that they’d send you, of all people.”

“I volunteered to come. Well, I insisted anyway.”

Kara glanced back at her again, expression now unreadable. “We’re not even friends anymore,” she said, matter-of-fact, no malice intended or needed. “We haven’t talked for—what—six months? I guess what I’m trying to say is that, you wouldn’t have been my first pick.”

“And I’m sure the many people who were opposed to my coming here would agree,” Lena said, but Kara didn’t take the bait, falling silent once more. “Where are we going anyway? What’s down here that’s so important that you have to see it right now?”

Kara took an abrupt left turn, and the hallway opened up just as abruptly into an endless series of shut doors, all evenly spaced out along either wall. Each door was fashioned with its own nameplate, which was of little interest to Lena until she started recognizing the names. By then—trailing behind Kara, passing by doors that read James, Winn, Kal-El, and a few with lettering that could only be Kryptonian—it became all too clear why they were there.

Lena’s sense of purpose was renewed, however, when Kara walked right past a door labeled Alex without slowing. “Wait, that’s where we have to go,” she called out in realization. “We need to get to Alex, right? Right, Ka—Kara! Hey, where are you going?”

But Kara evidently wasn’t listening, her stride only cut short upon arriving at another door altogether. The door was plain and simple enough, except in that it was one of the very few without its own handle. The name Mon-El was etched into the dull gold, just barely catching in the light at eye level.

“They disappear sometimes,” Kara said. “The doorknobs, I mean. Well, the doors too, but there’s always another to replace them so… it’s hard to keep track.”

Lena tried her best to not acknowledge the predictable twinge of nausea that twisted in her stomach. “What’s in there?”

“When I could still open it, I’d just see his spaceship disappearing into the horizon.” Kara shrugged. “I’m sure there were other things too, but it’s been years.”

“… Kara, let’s get back to Alex’s door,” Lena said, clearing her throat, ridding herself of any lingering pangs of unjustified jealousy. “It still has a doorknob, so we can still get in there, right? That’s what that means?” But Kara was ignoring her. Again. “Are you even listening to me right now?”

“You say that to me a lot in here.”

And just as Lena was about to ask what the hell Kara possibly could mean by that, she noticed yet another door, just a bit farther down the hall, literally with her name on it.

“You can go in there, I think,” Kara continued, shrugging again. “There aren’t really any hard and fast rules here, but that might be the only door you can open without me.”

Lena, inevitably, took a pause.

Her door appeared more intricate the longer she studied it. The rich, glossy oak with accents of rose gold. The plumerias carved into the wood at every corner. A touch of cursive to her name, lovingly engraved across the polished nameplate. It had a delicate padlock that looked more decorative than practical, but Lena already knew that it would fall away for her, if she wanted.

Admittedly, it took a rather lengthy moment for Lena to successfully tear her eyes away from the door. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Well, there isn’t much else I can give you besides that,” Kara said, promptly moving on, venturing deeper into the hallway that only opened up to more and more hallway with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of doors.

“Kara, stop…” Lena abandoned her door to chase after Kara again. “I’m serious,” she pleaded, seizing Kara by the elbow, tugging insistently. “Let’s go through the Alex door. We can go together.”

Kara shook her head, shaking her arm when Lena refused to loosen her grip. “Let go,” she snapped, eyes briefly flashing red, and Lena unfortunately flinched away from her. Huffing hard, Kara then pivoted away, slipping through the closest door and Lena slipped in right after her before it could swing shut.

The whole world was on fire.

Proud buildings coming down in flames. Air condensed into a thick black smoke. Everyone dying around her…

Coughing, Lena was immediately forced to press her sleeve to her mouth and nose. The door was nowhere to be seen. After a more thorough survey of her surroundings, she finally noticed a slumped figure in the relative distance. It was hard to make out anything in the light of the fading red that made up the sky, but who else could it be? Lena made her way over.

Thankfully, Kara wasn’t too far. She was just sitting atop a darkened precipice, arms around her knees as she watched the world die before her.

“This…. is Krypton,” Lena said as she realized. “Kara. You can’t stay here. This can’t be healthy…”

“And you, of course, would be the resident expert on keeping healthy habits,” Kara said, and her sarcasm didn’t even need a bitter tone to land.

And that about settled it.

Lena grabbed a piece of smoldering debris—still warm, somewhat spongey, surely not fatal—and lobbed it as hard as she could at the back of Kara’s head.

The projectile bounced off harmlessly enough, but Kara slowly turned around, eyes widened. “Ow…?” She pressed a hand gingerly to the back of her head, no doubt still tender from the blow. “What are you doing? The sun isn’t yellow here!”

“None of this is even real!” Lena snapped, and to prove it, she lifted a much larger piece of debris that normally would have buckled her with its mass. When she sent that hunk of rock sailing through the air, Kara finally demonstrated some life and dove out of the way.

“What the hell, Lena?” Kara said, some frustration and thus vigor breaking through the monotony. “What are you doing here? Why did you even come?”

“I want to see what���s behind Alex’s door!” Lena threw back, just as frustrated and then some. “What is this, Kara? Behind one door, you see your home planet imploding. Behind another, you see the man you loved leaving you forever. So, what the hell could possibly be happening in the one for your sister? Whose life, by the way, is still hanging in the balance, in case you forgot.”

Kara huffed, whirling away. “That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business by fucking off to wherever this is,” Lena said, fighting to maintain eye contact as Kara tried repeatedly to turn her back on her. “You made it my business by making me come after you! So, just do me one fucking favor, and just tell me—”

“I kill her.”

Lena fell silent, blinking, the soundtrack to her sudden hesitation coming alive in the sounds of the world burning up around her.

“I kill her in there. Over and over and over again.” Kara’s words were falling out like she couldn’t stop them, an outpouring of shame and relief rolled into one. “She dies by my hand, only to die all over again, and again, and—”

“Okay, I get it,” Lena hastily cut in. “Well, no. I don’t get it, get it, but… what do you mean you kill her? How…?”

Kara covered her face with a sharp exhale. “Lots of ways! Heat vision. Super strength. Sometimes I’m just throwing her off a building. Other times, I’m choking the life out of her with my bare….” She broke off, voice drying up. “I don’t want to go in there, okay? Stop asking me.”

“Kara, this… this is ridiculous,” Lena eventually sputtered. “Alex isn’t dead. She’s hurt bad, yeah, but how could you possibly give up on her when—”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Kara said flatly. “Because if not now, it’ll be some other time. She’ll die, and it’s going to be all my fault.”

“But what happened to her isn’t your fault.”

Kara sighed, heavily and exhausted, and suddenly she looked every bit the lonely woman who’d lost everything in a way only few people have. “Lena… Everything down here’s my fault.”

Her entire body sagged then, and she was back on the ground, curled up and watching the horizon again. So, Lena just walked over and sat next to her.

Everything was steadily plunging into darkness. There were more cracks ripping apart the earth than there were buildings, people, or even life in general. The fire climbed higher and everything was smothered in smoke, but all Lena had to do was consider taking a clean breath of air, and she could.

“What happens when it’s over?” Lena asked.

“Just starts up all over again.”

“Okay then.”

After a while, when the sky was too obscured to distinguish from the ground, Kara directed her gaze to her own feet. “… You ever think about what yours would look like?”

“My mind palace, you mean?” Lena asked, and Kara nodded. “Oh, I already know. Boxes.”

Kara exhaled a dry chuckle or two. “Boxes? That’s it?”

“Maybe some filing cabinets too. Just to keep everything organized,” Lena said, and she was mostly joking, but also not. “Boxes just always worked for me.”

“… Is there a box in there with my name on it?”

Lena blew out a breath, shakily laughing at the self-evidence of it all. “Of course there is, Kara.” Maybe even more than one, though they didn’t have to get into that now, or ever.  

“Do you want to know what happens behind your door?” Kara asked haltingly, gaze still dropped.

“Not at all. I’m sure whatever it is, I’ve imagined much worse on my own terms,” Lena said, and Kara kinda laughed again, but wouldn't disagree. “… You know what happened to Alex wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Might as well have been. Should’ve been there.”

“You can’t be everywhere at once, Kara. That can’t be expected of anyone, even Supergirl.” And when Kara gave no indication that she was listening, Lena continued with a sigh, “If Alex could be here, she’d say the same exact thing. Though I’m sure she’d include some Midvale lingo and much more swearing.”

“What’s Midvale lingo?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be above using it right now.”

Kara didn’t laugh this time, just nodded solemnly before asking, “How long have I been in here?”

“You’d been out for almost six hours when I made my way over.”

“Did Alex improve at all while I’ve been gone?”

“That’s not really a thing you can tell just by looking,” Lena said vaguely. She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to give Kara any reason to stay behind.

But Kara looked at her like she knew exactly what Lena was trying not to say. She’d always been so good at reading Lena, or maybe Lena had always been so bad at hiding things from Kara. Either way, if only it had been vice versa, maybe they’d be on better terms now.

“I don’t want to come back just to watch her die. I’ve already done that too many times in here.”

“If she does die, you’re going to regret not being there.”

The ground underneath them started to crumble and come apart, falling in on itself, and Kara watched it happen with disinterest while Lena just watched Kara. But eventually, finally, Kara seemed to come to a real decision because she carefully took Lena’s hand in hers, and Lena let her.

“… Thank you for coming,” Kara said quietly, barely audible over the world falling apart.

“Thank you for coming back.”

They watched the last of the world collapse around them, swallowing them up in a pitch darkness.

//

Lena jerked awake with a gasp in her corner of the room, but everyone was by Kara, clamoring around her, greeting her with words of worry and such. And Lena just nodded to herself because everything was back to being how it should.

She disengaged the electrodes and pulled the wires off her head, and Brainy appeared by her bedside to help her remove the last of it.

“You were successful,” he said. “I knew you would be. You had the best chances of getting her out of that state, though 67% of the people in this room did think differently. But thank you for bringing her back.”

“I didn’t do a thing,” Lena said honestly. She glanced down at her watch out of habit, and the numbers blurred and made little sense to her weary brain, but it was time to leave. That much was obvious. “It’s late. I should get going.”

“You don’t want to talk to Kara?”

Lena looked over, and just past Nia’s shoulder, she saw Kara staring right at her. “I think she has better things to do tonight,” she said, stepping into her heels, neatly pulling her hair into a tidy bun. “Please give our hero my best, and… keep me apprised of Alex’s condition as well.”

Pausing on her way out, Lena threw back one last glance. Kara was still staring at her. Her mouth was moving and answering questions as they were offered up by the people around her, but her eyes would only meet Lena’s from across the room. Kara half-raised her hand in a subtle gesture, and Lena took the wave for what it was and turned on her heel to leave, refusing to entertain the persistent itch to look back the entire time.

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (5)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

 Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au 

 Rating: 18+ / nsfw

 Word Count: 8.7k we really out here getting longer with every chapter because a bitch is hungry

 Summary: Privation looms lingeringly without your mate of whom hunts for you deep within the wood. In his absence, he still manages to fill the void even if it is only ephemeral. The sun watches while you fall prey to your desirous natures and it is only when the golden orb has begun to drip lower along the sky’s body that it is time for you to then be guided by the hands of other omegeans to prepare you for your mate upon his return even when no one yet knows, beyond you, who has already staked his claim on you. When the call of your alpha announces his incoming arrival through the forest beyond, that’s when you heed his howl and go to welcome him home, but what will you find when you get there?

 Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scent marking, scenting, fingering, begging, praise kink, female masturbation, cunnilingus, breeding/impreg kink, character injury (someone gets hurt, but it isn’t serious)

A/N: My fingers are literally sore from writing so much. This one got pumped out in like a day and I’m honestly a clown because we really out here going from 1.5k with the first chapter all the way to 8.7k for chapter five. I think my hands are still shaking as I write this, but hey, this beast is finally out of the cage of my mind like it wanted to be! Seriously, this one did take some hours of sleep out of me in its need to be written, so please feed my soul and let me know that all this effort was deserving of the lack of sleep in the midst of it being midterm week at my university. 

You guys have been so freaking sweet with your kind messages so far and I really am floored at how everyone seems to be enjoying this story, so please keep that up, y’all! I hope that I did justice to everything that has been written so far and more than anything, I hope to have been able to please you all with this next installment. Now, without further ado, I give to you part five of COC!

 Part 9  Part 8  Part 7 Part 6  Part 4  Part 3  Part 2  Part 1

Feebleness fleetingly finds you under its clutches while it grasps you within the boscage of the woodlands.

 It is commanded by the titillating tendrils of your alpha’s spiced scent and your fingers tug tightly around the fine furs without thought as you stare longingly at the mound of vestments that Jungkook had so torturously left in his wake, a whine releasing itself from the bowels of your body as you try to stand on dangerously debilitated ligaments that are still too weak to bear your weight after the satori that has swayed your entire being.

 Too distracted in the pheromones of him that wrap yearningly around you, you don’t remember to pick up the abandoned silken necklace that your alpha had wantonly pulled off and away from you as your wobbling knees bring you to the forsaken garb he’d peeled so salaciously from his beautiful body.

 Next to it are the shredded, tattered remains of the trousers he’d been wearing and, distantly, you wonder how many pairs he has ruined in the past through the multitudinous shifts he must have gone through as a purebred alpha that must have been so prone to surrender to his wolf and trade his human feet for the paws of his beast.

 Your wolf bays at you to pick both up in the need to keep as much of him near to you as you can and, with embers in your mind burning only for him that are stoked by his redolence, you heed it as your knees buckle when you bend with effort to grab them.

 Belatedly, it occurs to you that your alpha had not brought an alternative change of clothes given the state of his wrecked attire.

 As you slowly run your fingers reminiscently over the destroyed fabric, there’s a thought that pushes at your conscience between a pair of golden irises that flash commandingly at you and through the smoke that hazes your mind, you remember what he’d told you.

 “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

 The words melt away at your insides in the clear claim that they heat you with and you really can’t help it when you bring both articles that had adorned him close to your chest as you turn to tread through the woodland back from whence you came as your cheeks run hot with realization.

 Your alpha would anticipatedly await you to receive him back from the hunt he was to lead in your honor.

 He wanted you to be there to welcome him over all of the other bitches in the pack and, like the dutifully loyal omega you were meant to be, your mind had already set into its stone that you would later return to the greenwood upon the sun’s setting when all the alphas would rightfully reemerge from the forest’s foliage so that you could greet your own.

 You would do so with open arms that would bear not only your warmly joyous touch, but also the mended clothing he’d damaged to hunt for you that would serve to preserve the modesty that he intended only to show to the pack. Beyond closed doors, you wanted him to shred it all only for you.

 Beyond all of that, though, there’s the searing flame of possession that your wolf finds its rump sat firmly against in the calefaction of the emotion that is ablaze within you and you find that you’re willing to fuel it into a wildfire so that everyone will know that your alpha belongs to you should he wear the restored vestments that you would effortfully stitch back up with the hands that longed to caress and find themselves over his perfect aureate skin.

 These are what have you promptly turn to leave with the flutter of bird’s wings beating against your bosom as you amble along in obliviousness to the pair of lupine eyes that observe you protectively in the distance.

 It is only when you walk so far into the rays of the reaching sun that even your striking silhouette can no longer be beheld by them that their owner whirls around, his ears flicking toward the clang of antlers that must belong to two rearing bucks some ways off and without a moment to lose, he’s gone in the rush of the autumn leaves.

 Lost in the sea of pheromones that wash over you as the spray of them pools around you while you press your nose greedily into his garment, you pay no mind to the mated alphas or betas walking about at the early hour.

 What does demand your attention, however, is the sudden onset of sharp, panging pains that, with every step and breathe you take, sink their teeth deeper within the soft skin of your belly, a whimper caught in the fabric your mouth is held against as a vicious torrent of feverishness has your body temperature begin to lower without the warmth of your alpha as a vicious headache starts to pound against your cranium.

 In the midst of it, your own musk pungently pervades the air only to draw the eyes of unwanted wolves to your sweet smell that is enhanced due to the starting symptoms that have already set your body off in the absence of your alpha that it pines for.

 It is only when you manage to close the door to your chambers behind you, with your alpha’s clothes covetously pressed against your nose as if drunk on his ambrosial taste, that you shirk Jungkook’s furs from your body to throw them on your bed as your wolf yaps insistently to  nest amongst the pelt until the scent clinging to it has rooted itself to your cot so that no part of it has gone unseeded by your alpha.

 Once you’re satisfied with the assortment of dips and ripples of the blackened blanket of pelts that cover your duvet in its entirety, that’s when you lay down to nestle the furs, your baser being demanding that you lather yourself in its savory smell that you wish to soak in until you reek of your alpha.

The soft, downy pelage of the pelt caresses you against your exposed calves so very tenderly and, abruptly, the dress you wear is far too rough as it grazes against your skin in your movements as you quickly divest yourself of it. Somewhere in your maneuvers to take it off, your legs rub against each other only for you to widen both eyes at the sight that greets you.

 There’s slick that all but drips from your sex and it glistens along your thighs in the thick coating that marks you there and you suck in a breath as you ascertain the afflictions your body has been wracked with.

 You’ve just gone into the pre-heat acutely accompanied by a fever that every omega has intermittent interludes of upon finding their alpha.

 As if to remind you of this, a sudden shiver falls over your skin in the frosted frigidity that freezes the air around you in how cold your boudoir has just become under your steadily decreasing internal temperature.

 Without the physical comfort of your alpha, you whine, your fingers finding his garment that you’d thrown on the bed beside his furs to quickly lay it atop your bare bosom, your nipples hardening against the flocculent material that is softer than satin as it brushes against the sensitive buds deliciously.

 You sigh shakily in satisfaction as the cloth along your chest coaxes your skin with its gentle warmth through its fibrous fingers while his furs embrace you as you silently thank your alpha for leaving such giving gifts behind to smoothly soothe you in his absence.

 Your moment of respite is short lived, however, when an edged twinge of a cramp bites low into your abdomen as you grimace in pain, a fresh accretion of your juices finding your folds as you cry out the only name that could ever hope to free you from such sensations.

 “Jungkook,” his name is whispered from your lips, an irrational need setting itself alight within you as the picture of your alpha half nude from the forest flashes provocatively through your mind.

 He’d been so profoundly pulchritudinous under the morning rays and, with those dark eyes and wet mouth that had been so eager to welcome you to him, he’d only allured you more to him between his words of letch that had left you so parched after him. You can still imagine the way his hot tongue had laved at you, can still feel the deep press of his digit that had pushed down wantonly within your own lips as you’d sucked at it like a newborn calf.

 His finger had been so obscenely long while his hands had been so lewdly lined with veins over the bones that bore so much strength and you wonder how those digits would have felt deep within your velvet depths while you ponder what those lustful lips of his would do to you if they found their rightful place along your neck. You cogitate how well his defined, chiseled body would fit against yours while he’d drive his cock without abandon into the silken home of your pussy while he’d utter lascivious indecencies to you born out of lubriciousness for you.

 All of this has your hand sliding down your body without pause, your eyes closing as new need begins to burn hotly within your system in longing for your alpha.

 Your fingers find your neglected bud of nerves while you imagine that it is him that stands before the legs that you spread without hesitation for him as hunger flares behind golden rises that sear cravingly into you. You envision that it is him that commands you to taint yourself this way as you breathe in the igniting incense of him that has the flint of desire smoke profusely with the heat that simmers there as he clouds your mind until there is nothing but him that lingers there.

 “Touch yourself for me, pretty,” his hazily hallucinated voice demands within your mind.

 Helpless to deny him even in your fantasy, you obey in the want to please him even within the imaginary realm your head concocts of him. Your brows pull together in concentration as a ring finger slips between your saturated sex to collect the slick that accumulates there before finding its place atop the neglected bundle of nerves that have been ineffective for years in relieving you of your deep desire that has only ultimately and uncontrollably grown throughout your years without the aid of the alpha that you belonged to.

 Upon the first glide of a middle finger over your clit, you moan, your other hand closing compactly around the bed of furs beneath you as you envision that pink tongue of his darting delectably from his mouth to lick at his lips as he stares raptly at you before uttering,” Come on, my omega. Show me how those tiny fingers try to sate that pretty cunt that only your alpha could ever satisfy,” you imagine that he leans over you to plant two hands on either side of your hips as he sniffs, his eyes rolling back at your musk as he burrs, “Let me see how you’ve tried to give yourself the pleasure that can only be granted by the alpha you were made for, pretty.”

 You shakily sigh in response in the thirst that implores the sustenance of him through another deposit of slick as one finger begins to slowly stroke your clit while your other dips between your generously wetted folds to circle and prod at the hole that woefully weeps its essence in the denial of what it craves most.

 Helpless in the inability to disobey him, one digit breaches your sopping entrance while your other streaks over the bundle of nerves crowning your womanhood in a figure-eight pattern as you throw your head back while imagining that it is his lips that find your neck to leave behind marks that brand you as his.

 “Gods, yes, alpha...please,” You cry out, your digits inadequate next to the ones that have sinfully set your soul alight.

 Your finger sinks easily into your wet sheath as you drive it back and forth before your pace inevitably quickens, your hips pitifully trying to chase the elusive hand of pleasure as they begin to gyrate atop the bed while your other hand latches tighter onto the furs beneath you.

 You envision that the mouth you wish would claim you as his travels torturously down your body until he’s peering edaciously at your glistening sex, the squelching sounds that grow louder in your fastening ministrations only beckoning him further in the drenched deposit of slick that amplifies it.

 You envisage that he brings one plump lip between his teeth as he stares like a starved man at you behind eyes that glint with appetite as he hums, “Mmm, look at that cunt crying for its alpha. You really are desperate for me, aren’t you, pretty?” He lowers himself down to his knees to give you a piercingly hungry glare, “Tell me what you want, my omega, and I may be merciful and give you the release you want so badly. Obey this- obey me -and I will bring you to your end that was only ever mine to give to you, pretty.”

 Your fingers hasten their movements as you bear more force down and over your rapidly engorging clit, the digit that lodges itself needlingly inside you still not enough as you whimper out, “A-ah…please, alpha. I want your mouth on me. Give me your mouth, alpha.”

 The desperation for him flares as you imagine the smirk born of amusement before he descends down to your folds that shine with the sheen of your slick that has made a mess of your thighs and the bed of furs beneath you. You watch as craving of the likes in which you’ve never endured settles heavily across your abdomen only to coil tightly when, with his eyes still locked on yours, his rapturous tongue licks a long, languid stripe across the delicate skin of your inner thigh only to cause you to bite down on your tongue in effort to trap the sound of sin that yearned to escape you in the fervid felicity of that alone.

 You envision your alpha lapping unmercifully at you until the only wetness draped across your thighs is his leftover saliva, your back arching with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive skin as you whine in spite of his teasing.  

 “Is my mouth all that you desire, pretty? I could do so much more to you with my fingers. I could fuck you so well with just my hands,” your alpha muses as one digit prods at your entrance unmercifully in the way that it nudges itself back and forth between the folds of your sex as you gasp out. It’s when he extricates it from you, with your juices still soiling his finger, that he takes it into his mouth as he groans only to have you throw your arm over your face as redness sweeps over your cheeks as you pule.

 Your alpha releases his digit from his mouth with a ‘pop’ as heat winds you up when he urges, “Beg for me, my omega. Only then will I give you more. I want to see how much you need me.”

 The words fall easier than the waters from a river as you visualize him smirking knowingly as he dangles your pleasure before you like bait on his hook as you babble, “Want your fingers, too, alpha. I want you to fill me up with them until I’m so full of you that I can’t think anymore. Please, Jungkook.”

 Without warning, two fingers push pleasantly inside you as your mouth parts in an ‘o’ shape while your alpha licks at his lips, entranced in the sight of his fingers disappearing into your sex before he brings them backward only to bury them deeply within you again without prelude. Hot breath is blown over your pussy as he separates his digits in a scissoring motion that has your walls contracting around him as you press your lips together in effort to stifle the sounds he so easily draws out of you.

 It’s when he furls his fingers inside you in a perfect motion to have your toes curling that your body trembles in the sensation, your alpha noticing this as he utters, “Take it, pretty. I know you can. You’re being such an obedient girl for your alpha. I fucking love it.”

 The praise has you preening as you pant and when his tongue flattens over your womanhood to trail tortuously up so that no part of you is left untouched by him, that’s when you keen.

 “Gods, you are so fucking delicious on my tongue. I could do this forever and never tire of your flavor, my omega,” you imagine that he replaces his hand with yours only to cause you to writhe when two fingers circle over your clit unrelentingly while he gives a light, chaste kiss to the innermost part of your left leg before, with lips still coated in your essence, he croons, “Because you’ve been so good in allowing your alpha to taste you, I will give you your reward, yeah?”

 You hardly have time to think on the words he feeds you with before his lips are planted over your vulva, the wet muscle attached to the bottom his mouth sweeping along your slit while his thumb whorls over the bundle of nerves as his nose brushes against your clitoral hood to cause you to cry out.

 “Alpha, please,“ Your voice waters down into a mewl as you envisage that Jungkook, without warning, pushes his tongue so far inside you that your eyes roll to the back of your head with a stuttered sound.

 You envision that you can feel the way he grins knowingly as he watches you fall apart on him, his eyes narrowing heatedly as he plunges the appendage damningly with you as he utters, “That’s right, pretty. Call out the name of the only one who can make you feel this good. Gods, you’re so beautiful all spread out and bare for me just like you were always meant to be. Fuck, pretty.”

 You do as he says, stammering out his name in labored breaths as you imagine that he thrusts his tongue into you without fail as the tip of it perfectly hits the cluster of nerves buried deep within you over and over again. Soon, your walls begin to clench tellingly around him and by this point, your knuckles have gone white with how tight you grasp the furs in the hand that you’re not using to sinfully stimulate all of this.

 When you envisage that it is his fingers that splay possessively over one breast only to fondle it amongst digits that twiddle your nipple between them while he looks at you with a hooded gaze darkened only with the most carnal of desires, that’s when the coil of craving within you constricts as your alpha rasps, “You’re close, aren’t you, pretty? Fuck, when I take you, I can’t even imagine how you’re going to feel around my knot,” the last word has your walls closing threateningly around him as you moan out in the need your wolf bays at to be filled fully and completely by the only cock that you want to impel itself in your silken sheath and in response, he hisses, “What, you like that? You want my knot, pretty? You want to be bred until you’re swollen and round with my pups? Is that it, my omega?”

 You nod, too far gone into your indecent illusion to care anymore as your back bows when he sucks your sex between his lips as you drawl, “Yes, alpha. Please, give it to me.”

 There’s a devastating chuckle between your legs that has you trembling in anticipation and when the digits of his fingers roll your nipple between them as if he’s done this thousands of times before as he pairs it with an especially fatal propulsion of his tongue that strikes your g-spot so piercingly that it has your body convulse dangerously around it.  It is only when you’re squirming that your alpha’s all-consuming irises flash commandingly as he growls, “You’ll get your fucking pups out of me only if you yield to your alpha,” he says with the eternal flames of voracity blazing through golden rises that devour you whole as he eats you like a deprived man while he professes,” Surrender to me, pretty. Submit to me and show me how bad you want your alpha.”

 He pairs this with a catastrophic swipe of his tongue once, twice and three more times before you’re throwing your head back in blissful pleasure as you fall hopelessly apart while you plummet into your end that wracks you to a writhing mess atop soiled furs while your walls flutter fiercely around the two fingers you had unknowingly undulated against in your search for release.

 When you extricate your digits from your body, a string of slick clings to your fingers and, longingly, you wish that it wasn’t your essence on your hand, but instead that of your mate’s.

 Only your labored breaths break the silence that sets in the aftermath of your indecent deeds, your muscles aching from the awakening of new ones that have not been in use before amongst the old that have been afflicted after the strenuous strain that your alpha had wrought on your body.

 It takes a few minutes to come down from your high and your headache is furiously fast in reemerging once the remnants of your climax have faded as you groan in effort to sit up. It is then that you notice the tattered trousers you’d neglected before in the ravenousness that had eaten away at you for your alpha and, with a new resolve that prickles past the prominent pounding of your head, you decide that now would be a good time to mend them so that you will have something to present to your alpha upon his return to the compound.

 You stand on unstable legs that are beginning to become a familiarity to you in the wake of your alpha as you pull Jungkook’s garment over you and are completely content with the way the article of clothing covers your intimate parts as you fold it over your chest to tie it together with a silken cord that had been buried inside.

 Finding your small sewing kit that you’d left abandoned in the corner of your chambers, you situate yourself along the cluster of plush pillows settled along the window seat as you set to work on fixing your alpha’s attire.

 You try to mind your fingers that the needle had left you privy to numerously numbed fingers because of in the midst of the late hours of the night after stitching together the ripped remains of the clothing that the pups under your care would often tear with claws that protracted and retracted in the midst of their growing bodies.

 It is a futile attempt, for the sharp spikes that shoot through your digits inflict themselves in you anyway. Your attention is far too focused not on the article of clothing, but on the one who had worn it.

 You wonder what he might be doing right now and if he’s been thinking about you as profusely-or lewdly, mind you- as you have been about him, your wolf wanting to howl for him to beckon him back as you longingly caress the shredded trousers while you pine for the warmth of his skin and the radiance of his smile.

 Sometime later, there’s an abrupt series of knocks at your door and you smile as you fold your finished work and place it on the table next to your window seat before rising with anticipation that energetically bounds through you.

 It was time for you to be prepared and groomed so that you could be received by the alpha that no one yet knew had already staked his claim on you. Every omega went through this period before their Offering Ceremony to heighten the chances of finding them a suitable mate.

 The door opens and in leaps your best friend, Niva, who was mated last spring as she happily greets, “Y/N! Are you so excited? Your time is finally here, darling!”

 You laugh jovially at her energy as you easily question with mirth, “Good to see you, too, Niva. I am, very much so. Is it just going to be you that has the privilege of getting me ready?”

 She enfolds you in an all-encompassing embrace and you mirror the sentiment, for it is in omegean nature to be close-knit and seek the warm arms of the dynamic that is known for their nurturing, compassionate nature.

 You wrap your arms around her, but upon your best friend getting one whiff of the heavy pheromones soured by sex in every crevasse of the room, her nose wrinkles as her face twists, “Ew, Y/N, did you seriously already get bedded on the day of your ceremony? It stinks in here. Your grandmother is not going to take kindly to this. You’re supposed to be pure, remember?”

 You stand back with a smile lifting at your lips, “I know very well, Niva. Have you considered,” you lift a brow, “that perhaps I am still the virgin you always like to mess with me about being and maybe that there’s an alpha who might have given me his furs so that I could have some kind of relief in his absence?”

 Your best friend’s eyes widen in surprise, but that is soon replaced with a knowing glint of mischievousness in one eye as she takes in the visage of your disheveled appearance amidst the only article of clothing that is entirely too large in how it dwarfs your much smaller body as she queries, “Judging by the smell, whoever it is must be quite an alpha based on how strongly your room reeks of him. Judging by how that excuse for a shirt on you totally swallows you up, he must also be quite muscular and tall. Tell me,” she leans close, “has he touched you yet?”

 Your cheeks turn red as the memories flash like moving pictures through your mind in a tale recounting what had just happened and all that had occurred before and within the greenwood.

 You pull your lip between your teeth thoughtfully before you quietly admit, “In more ways than one, yes. Gods, has it been amazing, Niva. He is so…so attractively alluring in every way.”

 Your best friend holds you close as she watches the emotion color your irises and, seeing that in combination with the way your very voice had lilted with the sentiments, happiness dawns on her as she cards a hand through your hair to declare, “Then I will endeavor to make you irresistible to whoever this alpha is, darling. When I’m done with you, your alpha won’t know what hit him before it’s too late.”

 You blush when she calls in your other two omegean friends of whom carry a large assortment of oils, herbs and soaps before the three disappear into the lavatory through the adjoining antechamber in your boudoir to set to work on readying your bath.

 You busy yourself in the meantime with thoughts filled only with your alpha despite the cacophony of chatter echoing excitedly off of the walls, your attention drawn elsewhere and when Niva comes to retrieve you, that’s when you look away from the window that you’d been trying to squint through in effort to locate your alpha that still hunts for you within the greenwood.

 When you step into the copper basin that is much too large for your smaller body, the waiting waters wrap tenderly around your ailing body as the steam wafts around you in the heat of the fluid that births it. A long, drawn out breath leaves you as your tautened muscles loosen while your friends pour vial after vial of lavender, spruce and rosemary oil over you, the viscous solutions draping themselves over your skin to coax open your pores so that more of your pheromones are released to further attract prospective alphas with your scent.

 Niva takes care to drizzle you in pink salt sold out of the exotic Himalayas that she’d acquired from an especially friendly merchant after being told it had the power to make the skin glow with the might of a goddess. After that, she then spritzes the waters around you with roses, passion flowers and red clover blossoms that decorate the watery landscape around you until its canvas has been painted a magnificent magenta while you’re lathered in the herbal bath, a sigh of satisfaction falling from your lips before your best friend starts her work cleaning your hair.

 Usually, you would purr at the gentle glide of fingers over your scalp, but not today. Today, there’s only one pair of hands that you want on you and they are much too far away for your liking.

 Once the suds of soap have been rinsed from your hair, that’s when you’re left to bask in the warm water that had been drawn especially for you, for each omega has their own variation of scents that they prefer to bedeck themselves with for their Offering Ceremony in effort to lure more alphas through an amplified air of pheromones surrounding them.

 You ruminate on what Jungkook might do once he catches your naturally enhanced aroma that he’s already admitted to liking so much and, for good measure, your fingers find a floating rose and draw its soft petals over your shoulders before rubbing it along your neck.

 When the water has gone cold and you’ve been immensely imbued with the essences of nature, that’s when your friends return to retrieve you from the depths of the basin that you’ve sunken into through your calming contentment.

 Your hair is aired with oaken fans brought all the way from China before they twine and curl it around until it rests artfully in a braided bun along the crest of the back of your head, two twin strands nestled right in front of your ears to petitely frame your face.

 You really wish that you could focus on the gossip that falls freely as leaves from the trees this time of year as they labor over you, but you can’t. Not when your head swims with thoughts only of your alpha.

 Caught as you are in the tides of him that drag you along, you do not feel the bristles of a brush along your eyelids as Niva tips your head back to apply the powdery coloring that will accentuate your brilliant silver orbs before your best friend lines your lids with the blackened stick of kohl.

 Even when a light smattering of the dust of crushed rose petals is painted over your cheeks, you do not look into the mirror, for your eyes are trained on the sliver of sun that begins to wane through the rays that begin to reach backward toward their parent as your wolf bays in expectancy to receive its mate.

 Once Niva is done with her masterpiece, that’s when you’re made to stand and close your eyes before you’re walked over to the mirror that spans from the floor to the ceiling in the corner of your chambers as your other two friends produce the gown your grandmother had had made for you for this very day out of an ornately sealed box that had been left outside your door upon your return from the woods.

 You hear the clicks of the chest that signal its opening, excitement enthusiastically running amok within you when there are three collective gasps behind you as they stare in awe at your gown.

 It is lifted gingerly and delicately in its fragility and your friends help you into it slowly while slightly stiffened organza material skims your skin as it is pulled meticulously up and over your body. Once your arms have been lifted through the hollow holes and the pleated style sleeves rest atop your shoulders, that’s when the laces lining the back of the gown are pulled taut and the bodice constricts around you as you wince at the unyielding tightness that winds around your abdomen.

 Once the ties to your dress have been neatly crossed over each other in a complicated complexity that you will never see, that is the moment that you hear the distinguishing groan of aged wood being opened in the form of another box. The contents within that are unknown to you, but upon the cold, heavy material that encircles your neck, you can surmise that it is a choker meant to conceal the area so untouchable to all but the alpha whose mark you would eventually bear in its stead.

 Your best friend smiles fondly at her finished piece of artwork before stepping to the side to say, “Open your eyes, Y/N. It’s time for you to see how much the moon favors her most adored daughter.”

 You open your eyes in questioning, but before you can turn your attention to your friend, the image in the mirror captures it first as your breath catches at the sight it bestows to you, your jaw falling open in wonderment.

 Your skin all but glows under the gleam of sunlight that tries to tread over your radiance in its dimming dance as irises the color of moonlight piercingly stare back at you from under eyelids speckled with silver like the celestial body amidst the smudges of blended eyeshadow along the sides that beseech boldness in the color that matches the soils of the earth. It is set off by a cat-eye of kohl liner that is dappled thinly along the tips of your lids to demand attention in the way that it contrasts your irises. Even your lips have been streaked with the crimson of a rose to beckon beguilingly in the wish to be looked at.

 Embellishing your neck is a choker made entirely of moonstone that is set between chromium on each side. Its base rests just above your collarbones and, its thickness, it extends about two inches upward to hide away your sensitive scent glands as it covers your skin.

 Below that, though, that’s what really takes your breath away.

 Your gown looks to have been crafted from the threads of the moon’s core in the white of it that adorns your body in its entirety. Layers of gossamer-like fabric compose your dress and set carefully between it all are specks that shine like grayed moondust in the light that glimmers off of them.

 Your bodice is styled in a plunging ‘V’ that hugs your frame and is ceased only by the firm, fitted band that wraps around and hugs your middle well below your breastbone. Tied along its end is a very thin silver cord that twists into a knotted bow before your skirt loosely trails down and out, the train of it cascading like a sea behind and around you. Your arms are bare, but the sheerer and more translucent sleeves trickle over your shoulders and flow about to join the pool of fabric along your feet as you take a shaky breath.

 The woman that stares back at you is one that drips with the waters of clarity in the confidence that she exudes as she stands tall and proud. She is every bit the omega you were always meant to be as she holds her head high, her hands clasped along her front as she angles her head at you to study you and you have to close your parted maw as you stare wondrously back at her, wholly unable to move at the sight of the stranger that has your body in the mirror.

 When the familiar furs of your alpha are lowered over your shoulders, that’s when you look away, your irises finding Niva’s as she coos, “I don’t even think the ancient queen of the wolves could compare to you, darling. I really have outdone myself this time.”

 You stutter, completely in awe of yourself as you tell her, “N-Niva…this is… how did you-“

 Your best friend hushes you with a finger to her lips,” Shhh, that’s a secret, my dear. I cannot divulge my magics lest someone steal them away from me,” she teases as she puts both hands around your shoulders to encourage, “Look at yourself, my darling. You look positively radiant. Those alphas don’t stand a chance.’

 You think that maybe it is all just a trick of your senses and that it is just a hallucination, for you surely can’t actually appear the way that the girl in the mirror does, right?

 You find your visage once again on the mirror in an irrational need to confirm this only to widen your eyes at what greets you, for it is you that peers curiously back at yourself, your hand reaching out to run your fingers down the image of you that is set behind it.

 Your friends step back from you when your hand lowers and you turn to them with joyous tears that threaten to ruin all the work they labored so much from as they quickly fan the air around you in attempt to keep them trapped within your eyes as you laugh, your arms shooting out to welcome them all in a warm embrace that you are sure to thank them incessantly within.

 You enfold them in your arms until the sun’s rays strain to reach you, it’s descent into the night being announced with the raucously reverberating howl from the forest that has your blood singing in the familiarity that it is carried to you with.

 It finds your ears even here and you perk up, your wolf barking in need to go and wait for the alpha that every fiber of your being tells you is near as your best friend looks to you in understanding as she says, “Go on, Y/N. Don’t worry about us.  He’s waiting for you. Go to him.”

 You need no further coaxing as your feet move of their volition, your fingers closing around the mended trousers while you pull the furs your alpha had given to you tight around you, for it was tradition that omegas were not to expose skin before the Offering Ceremony and to be wrapped in an outer covering that preserved their purity until they were ready to shed it upon commencement of the event and acceptance of their alpha.

 The golden disk that once sat high in the sky now has dipped halfway below the horizon, but you need none of its light to locate the alpha that calls you forth as you tread tirelessly on until your nose brings you to the edge of the forest where an old trace of Jungkook still lingers.

 You crouch to leave his fixed clothing by the bark of one aged tree as you walk on, narrowing your eyes as you attempt to see beyond the long line of browned stalks that stretch on as far as the eye can see.

 Anticipation flaps with the fierceness of a black swan within you and when you hear the snap of a branch somewhere off to your left, you enter the thicket’s threshold without hesitation in your baser being’s need to relish in the warmth of your alpha.

 The stench of death thickly layers the air as you wrinkle your nose and as you find yourself standing before the broken limb of the tree, that’s when the dark silhouette of a figure steps out from behind it.

 The sun’s fading rays blind you to whoever you’ve found, but the voice that soon lathers itself all too heavily and viscously over your skin has your hair standing on end as it saccharinely presses, “Were you looking for someone? It’s okay, omega, you can tell me that you were trying to find me and profess your love to me. Everyone else does.”

 You roll your eyes at his vain vanity, “Actually, Taehyung, I was just trying to find my alpha who happens to be nearby and if he finds you here, he’s not going to take too kindly to that.”

 You turn away from the alpha, but Taehyung predatorily stalks after you and before you realize what’s happened, he’s in front of you to halt your movements, a twisted grin marring his features as he sniffs you, a tremor wracking his body as he does that has your blood running cold.

 “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, omega,” he tries to reach for you and you take a step back, not wanting his odor nor his filthy touch to stain you, “See, Jeon won’t be back for some time, sweet thing. He’s still on the mountain hauling back his kills that he’ll be too late to bargain for you with.”

 Your stomach drops to the recesses of your body as you try to move away from the alpha that hounds after you while your fingers tighten over the furs that cover you from his roving irises that roam all over you, your skin crawling everywhere that his attention slithers over.

 In the eyes that are glazed over from the onset of a rut, there is no care there. There is only gluttonous greed that bats away anything and everything that is not you.

 Your omega harks for you to submit under the alpha’s penetrating gaze, but you resist it as your own alpha’s voice traipses through your mind.

 “I will not tolerate anyone that attempts to take what is mine.”

 It is that thought that has you pushing past the instinct to yield to the alpha before you now as you shake your head, the surety set in your eyes amusing Taehyung as you spew its fires, “I would advise that you move away from me before you do something that you will regret. Your pack alpha has already made his claim on me and will not hesitate to punish you if you tarnish what belongs to him.”

 Your defiance has the alpha’s cock harden impossibly more amidst the divine incense you emit from freshly opened pores. No omega had dared to talk back to him before and it was inebriating.

 “Stars, you really are lust if it had a form, she-wolf,” the shadow convulses with dark laughter that has goosebumps growing along your skin as you back away, “Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You smell sweet as fuck, too…I wonder if you taste just as good.”

 Fear has your body begin to lock into place when your back nears the rough bark of a tree, “Do not do this, Taehyung. You will face wrath the likes of which you’ve never seen if you so much as lay a finger on me. I want nothing to do with you, do you understand?”

 A grin curls with malicious intent along its edges as he takes a step forward until he’s only inches away from you as he taunts, “Oh? You want nothing to do with me? Perhaps you shouldn’t be striding around smelling like temptation and sex in that little dress then, huh? You omegas always have a flair for driving us crazy when you present, but fuck, Y/N, no one holds a candle to you. I think,” his eyes glint dangerously when your back hits the thick trunk of the tree, “that you should be claimed by a real alpha that can treat you better than Jeon ever could.”

 “Taehyung,” you try through a dry mouth,” Stop. I don’t want this. Jungkook is the one I wish to bear the mark of, not you.”

 Panic sets in and seeps icily across every vein when one hand comes to rest next to your head, his eyes burning a hole into your neck as he makes a sound of consideration, “Such a lucky happenstance that the pack alpha didn’t think to mark what was his if he didn’t wish for others to taint it.”

 The alpha nears and the ache between your knuckles warrants the incoming protraction of unguis, but before they can make their appearance, there’s a raged roar born entirely of aggression that threateningly thunders through the woodland. It is stormed by the fury that is set between the crackling of claws fulminating fiercely over the trunks of trees somewhere behind you.

 It takes only one inhale through your nostrils to know who has joined you, your heart pounding faster in response as your wolf cries for its mate while his scent thaws the ice within your body that Taehyung had foolishly frozen within it.

 “I thought I made myself clear to you, boy,”  the sound bleeds into a menacing snarl from behind you and Taehyung stops in his tracks, seized as he is by the overpowering command of the alpha ranked higher even than him as Jungkook’s brooding aura pierces him like an icicle in the coldness of the familiar voice,” She’s mine. I would advise you back the fuck away from my mate before I do much worse to you than break both of your arms the last time you felt it wise to try to fucking disobey me.”

 In the chill of the frigid air that has his beast wanting to tuck its tail between its legs, Taehyung tries to ignore it as he dissentingly jeers, “Is she yours? Unfortunate that I don’t see your mark on her then, pack alpha,” Taehyung sneers, his eyes still settled on yours, though your attention is far from him at this point as you stare longingly towards the origin of where nails scrape furiously into the skins of the trees as he dares to challenge, “You are not the only wolf that thirsts for a she-wolf as parching as this one, Jeon. I could get drunk off her scent alone and you expect me to just sit back and allow you to take such an appealing aperitif away from me? Sorry, but I want to taste her myself and there’s nothing that you can do to-“

 The rest of whatever the younger alpha had been wanting to say never makes it past the confines of his mouth, for there’s a blur of golden skin that flashes before you and suddenly, Taehyung has been launched several feet into the air only for his spine to collide into the back of an old, stocky evergreen tree.

 The bark screams against the contact in the deafening series of snaps as the foolish alpha is slammed so forcefully into it that, like an arrow, his body shoots cleanly through the aged integument as the oaken pillar that has been broken in half falls to the forest floor with a thud.

 Golden irises find you under their attention as your alpha steps from behind you, your blood warming at his heated touch when he grasps your chin between his fingers to assess you for damage before laying his forehead against your own as you reach out for him, the pads of your fingers lightly trailing tenderly along his jawline as you quietly whisper,” Alpha.”

 Jungkook nuzzles you protectively before he rumbles out, “My omega. Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

 He’s like a furnace in the way that his skin is calefied with the intensity of the sun and you purr when he nudges at your neck as your palm finds its place where his heart beats like a drum against you as you tell him, “No, Jungkook. With you around to keep me safe, he never got that far. He was about to, but you didn’t let him, my alpha.”

 Your alpha bristles at that, his irises dimming in light of your admission as he growls, “He nearly did. He would have if I hadn’t come when I did. I sensed your scent souring and it led me here. Had I been just a bit later, I nearly would have lost what was mine,” you watch in awe how his canines draw themselves out of his gums, captivated by the way that they lengthen and grow in size until they protrude out of his mouth in their large size that is much more massive than the average alpha as he pulls away from the nook in your neck to lay a callused palm along your jaw as he utters, “I need you to stay here for me, pretty. That fucking fool needs to be reminded of who is in charge here and I intend to jog his pitiful memory so that he never forgets it.”

 He draws away entirely too soon as you whimper in his absence and you, with your eyes magnetized only for him, observe with interest the way that he strides heavily and imposingly through the cluster of trees to bear down upon the collapsed body that is a mess of tangled limbs under the broken arm of the oak he’d been forcefully thrown against.

Your alpha’s hair falls wildly over his face and, in the waning light of the sun, his eyes bear down balefully over the younger alpha as he stands nude save for the mended article of clothing covering his lower half that you had dutifully brought for him. 

 Fury is palpable in the way that it looms like a shadow off of Jungkook, in the way that it clings to his every muscle when he snaps with glistening incisors at the downed alpha as he seethes, “It seems that you’ve lost sight of who is at the top of the food chain, boy,” Your alpha towers intimidatingly over Taehyung, who hisses at him, “The one on top gets the pick of the fucking litter and that, Taehyung, has never been you. I am your pack alpha and I am the only wolf that can command all of you alphas beneath me. It’s time that I discipline you to make you aware of that fact.”

 You hardly have time to process the popping sound of bones before your alpha has lodged five razor-edged, serrated claws deep into the recesses of Taehyung’s left shoulder as the younger alpha yowls out in pain that can be heard miles away in its dismal din.

 Your alpha marvels at the crimson fluid that stains him as the red tears of Taehyung’s wounds pool around your alpha’s digits only to trickle sadly downward until they are one with the earth.

 Jungkook snarls forbiddingly when Taehyung squirms underneath him to hound out, “What happened to that mouth you like to fucking flap all the time? Too scared now to use it, boy?” Your alpha leans forward with anger flashing in his eyes, “I would suggest that you don’t fuck with me again, little wolf. You’re going to get much more than the fucking claws next time should you be foolish enough to try.”

 Your alpha draws his other arm back, your eyes widening in the darkness that is settling its dark shroud over him.

 Before another set of claws can embed themselves within the younger alpha, you call for your own and through the cloak of negative emotion that has begun to suffocate him, your voice slips between it to caress the ire of his baser being.

 When your smaller fingers enclose around the wrist of his bloodied hand, you gently coax his claws out of Taehyung, who crumples atop of the brambles along the woodland with a thump as you press yourself to your alpha’s back to offer with a soft voice, “Come back to me now, alpha. Your mate does not wish to see you so wracked by your fury. You’ve made your point clear to both him and to me.”

 Jungkook inhales deeply only for his muscles to loosen while your sweet scent laces itself around him as he turns to utter, “My omega, it is because of my mate that I must resort to the animal within me,” You watch as the dark emotion recedes slowly from his irises as he imbibes you, entirely too parched of you for so long as an emotion you’ve yet to understand intensifies in its wake when he confesses, “I can hardly help that when you beckon me so, pretty.”