#This happens around ten times without him finding a solution

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *32*

This was the ninth- no.... tenths loop. He is eating his breakfast and he is dizzy again. Because Mom drugged his oatmeal, because Mom and Dad knew! Danny stood up from his chair and tried to leave the kitchen. (He knew it wouldn't work, it never worked) His eyes grew heavy and a few steps later he hit the ground.

He wakes up to the same gruesome picture as in the last nine loops. But Danny doesn't beg anymore. Or says anything. It hurts, but it's nothing he hasn't had felt before. It would only take them a week before they would destroy his core again and then everything would start anew. Maybe he could think of something better for next time.

.

.

.

The last feeling he remembered was an all encompassing pain, as his Dad crushed his core. But he was at the breakfast table again, already feeling groggy. But maybe this time he could get help? He knew that he could fight the drugs for around ten minutes, as long as he didn't stand up.

So instead he got his phone out of his pocket. He knew that neither his sisters, nor his friends would be fast enough, he already tried them, but maybe someone else could be fast enough.

He opened Twitter and started to write a new post, ignoring his atrocious spelling in favor of getting as many information out as possible.

@theoneandonlyflash I'm kinda stuck in a time looop and my parents will koll me in about a werk they druged me so I'll be in they lab in a fee minotes. Pleaase helpp and fins me iin Amyt Park, Illnois. My name iss Dannyy Fentin

He was able to press send, before his vision would become to spotty. Now he just needed to hope that the fastest man alive would be able to help him. Danny's head fell on the table.

.

.

.

It was the eleventh time he woke up to the same scene and this time he couldn't do anything against his tears. He would die again... and again and again...

Danny's spiraling thought were interrupted by the basement door, that had hit the wall. This was new!

#skylers prompts #dcxdp #dcxdp prompt #dpxdc #don't tag the danny phantom fandom #the flash #barry allen #wally west #Wich ever one you prefer #Danny is stuck in a loop #His parents found out and vivisected him #They destroy his Core #He is back a week before his Core destruction #10 minutes before they take him down to the lap #This happens around ten times without him finding a solution #He finally thinks of something that might work #He @ The Flash on Twitter and begs for help #His parents have him cut open again #but this time someone comes for him #I'm back bitches! #sorry life was a little chaotic #my daughter learned to walk and too sleep in her own bed

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

The Bachelor: Robin Edition by Vamillepudding

Gotham loses its Robin and Bruce Wayne loses a son. Tim finds one of these too tragic to bear. In his quest to make sure Bruce Wayne lives to see the next year, he strikes upon the perfect solution: another son.

-

His best bet is, naturally, Crime Alley.

By 8 pm that day, Drake Manor is filled with ten black-haired, blue-eyed boys sitting around the large dining table, looking around the room suspiciously.

Well. Eleven. But Tim doesn’t think he counts.

ATLA

Dish Duty by Princeliest

All Zuko had been trying to do was wash some dishes. Or: The one where Zuko and Katara both mean well, but still can't find their footing around each other in time to prevent explosive shouting, broken dishes, an impromptu arrest, and Team Avatar's third- nay, fourth jailbreak. Fifth? They've lost count at this point, but at least they're not willing to lose Zuko... now, if only he realized that.

Merlin

all oak and iron bound by numinousnumbat

Some of those born with magic are repelled by iron. Merlin wished he knew how much iron there was in Camelot before he started his new life there.

HTTYD

Abandon Hope Who Enters Here (everyone who enters here) by JaggedEmeraldsOfGold

Eret had spoken about the mindless cruelty of Drago’s base and soldiers, but there’s nothing like seeing it in front of her to make it really, really sink in. She’d wanted to empathize, but she doesn’t think she really understood.

She does now.

Astrid leans her head back until it hits the wall behind her, and blinks up at the ceiling.

It’s going to be a long three days.

Or: Instead of facing the Monstrous Nightmare in the Kill Ring, Hiccup packs up and leaves Berk on Toothless, defeating the Red Death on his own as he goes. Six years later, Hiccup has royally fucked up– Hiccup has severely underestimated Drago, and now Hiccup is cramped, tired, hungry, without his prosthetic, and he really, really, really misses Toothless.

Imagine his surprise (read: complete and utter dread) when he wakes up one day to see absolutely none other than Astrid Hofferson, Snotlout Jorgenson, Fishlegs Ingerman, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston sitting in the cell across from him.

against the wind by underpassgraffiti

When Hiccup and Snotlout get stranded, they have to work together to stay alive.

Easier said than done.

To End a War by GhostStone

Stoick may not listen to Hiccup, but there is one person he does listen to on occasion. And that one person just happens to be someone who will listen to Hiccup.

An AU where the night before he is meant to kill the dragon, Hiccup realized how awful his plan is and goes to Gobber for help.

the soul of a dragon by castelia

Soulmarks amongst humans are easily identifiable: they are words tattooed on skin, words to be spoken during the first moment where two people truly connect. No one believes dragons have soulmarks, let alone that a dragon and a human can share a soul bond.

Until Hiccup.

#i fell down the httyd rabbit hole and i refuse to apologise for it #happy october everyone #my posts #fic recs #weekly fic round up #dc recs #httyd recs #merlin recs #atla recs

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Hi ! I just read the smart but a dumbass s/o and would like another part for the main 10, It was too funny for me

Let's go with opening a jar of jam this time.

Undertale Sans - ... That's twenty minutes now you're struggling with that jar of jam. He counted. He asked if you wanted help several times now, but you shook it off. So he's just staring. After another ten minutes, it starts to get boring so he discreetly uses blue magic to open the jar without you noticing. You let out a savage scream when you finally manage to open it, and scream at his face that you know you could do it alone. Yeah. Totally. Great job, buddy.

Undertale Papyrus - You try, he tried. You're both desperate now, pulling with all your hands at once on the damn thing to open it. Suddenly, Papyrus has a brilliant idea! He runs to his room and comes back with a giant bear trap. He puts the jar on the trap then slams it close. Good news, the jar is opened! Bad news, it's smashed in a million pieces and Papyrus's hand stayed in the trap because he forgot he had to take it out...

Underswap Sans - He looks at you in disbelief. "DUDE. FOLLOW THE ARROW ON THE LID." Oh. You turn the lid the other way around. It magically opens O: You're baffled.

Underswap Papyrus - It seems clear to him that you two have no other choice. You need to call delivery services for your breakfast. There's no way he's not having his jar of honey in hell, you're going to find a solution and quick or he will die. The delivery guy brings them... another jam of honey. Now Honey is on the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Underfell Sans - Tch, it's because you're weak. Him strong boi. Give him the jar. He tries to open it for two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes... Then his face turns redder and redder until he explodes, throws the jar at full force on the floor and blasts it. No more jam, no more problems...

Underfell Papyrus - That's the five knives he broke on the lid. He got desperate so he called Undyne. Now he and her are hitting the jar with bones and spears, just screaming. It doesn't do anything. The jar is unbreakable. It's the worst enemy they ever had to fight. Defeated, they give you back the jar. You tried one more time, turning it the other way. It opens. ... Edge collapses on the floor and refuses to move ever again.

Horrortale Sans - He's so confused when you arrive in the room and asks for his axe. He trusts you so it gives it to you. You start to hit a poor jar of jam again and again and he's just staring, wondering if he's hallucinating again or not. He assumes he's hallucinating because what kind of idiot wouldn't know you have to turn the lid the other way to open it?

Horrortale Papyrus - He's so judging you. He tries to hide it, but his smile is weird. He's cringing so hard right now. Please let him help you. You hiss at him, covering your jar of jam like your life depends of it. .... Right. Clearly, you're distressed, and won't let him deal with this. He grabs a bone and knocks you out, opens the lid, and then puts it back in front of you like nothing happened.

Swapfell Sans - He's mad at you. You told him to use his claws to open the damn jar and he did. Now two of his claws are broken, and you still insist he uses the other ones. Nox is pissed off and hisses at you angrily, screaming that instead of eating that bullshit full of sugar you can go outside and pick a piece of fruit like a normal person.

Swapfell Papyrus - He is losing it. That's an hour you're screaming at him now, accusing him of gluing the lid to the jar and threatening him of sex abstinence if he doesn't open this shit. He's crying with laughter because he did nothing at all, and it's killing him how you're bad at it. Eventually, he takes pity on you and opens it. You scream back that you know it was open all this time, and throw the lid at his face when he starts cackling again.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He pretends he doesn't know you. He can't believe you can't even open a jar of ham. That's so cringe. You challenge him to do better if he knows so much. He takes it, opens it, and puts it back on the table, staring into your soul the whole time. .... You sit down and take your breakfast in complete silence after that.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You struggle for ten minutes and ask him if he can open it. Coffee gives you the most distressed look ever. It's like you asked him to go fetch the Moon or something. Like it's his last day on Earth, he picks up the jar of jam and tries to open it. It doesn't work. That's way too much pressure and he bursts into panic tears two minutes after that. Wine thinks you're murdering his brother and comes running to end you, only to find two dumbass unable to open some jam. He's cringing so hard.

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[samaellevampire]

Single cloud

Paring: Phantom and Rain (Raintom)

Genre: Hurt/comfort

SFW

Words: 1,112

Summary: Phantom feels like he is less loved by Copia since he is new and replaces Aether. Rain will comfort him.

Warning: A little crying, feeling less loved.

Below the cut people please.

A sunny afternoon playing together in the ministry's huge garden, what more could you ask for? Copia had even joined his ghouls outside to enjoy the good weather and have fun with them.

Just Phantom was missing. It's been a few days since the young ghoul seemed to have a fog-filled head. The others have noticed that, he seems sad and thoughtful at the moment. Every time someone asks him how he's feeling, he forces himself to give a big, obviously fake, smile and say that everything is fine.

The others stopped asking him when they realized they would probably never get an explanation. They're just trying to take his mind off him and avoid being pushy.

This noon, during the meal, Phantom barely spoke and he seemed stuck in his world. Which is strange because he's usually the first to participate in discussions and accompany Swiss in his jokes. Another detail did not escape Rain, his friend's eyes were red and swollen. He looked so tired. As if a single cloud had been above his head for several days even though it was wonderful weather outside.

The water ghoul would have wanted to speak to him alone after the meal to find out what was bothering him but the latter had fled. Phantom had left the table as quickly as he could to return to his room.

Now that Rain is here, having fun with the others under the sun, he feels guilty. Guilty because Phantom isn't doing well and no one is going to see him. The water ghoul sighs and decides to fix this. No matter what his friend's problem is, he will find a solution.

Rain signals to his friends that he will be back in a few moments and gives a small wave before leaving. He confidently crosses the large corridors of the ministry towards the young ghoul's room. Once he arrives at the right door he stops. All the confidence he had gained while he was walking just vanished.

The water ghoul takes a deep breath then knocks gently on the old wood of the door. No answer. He tries again, thinking that perhaps his friend didn't hear him. Always nothing. He sighs a little then slowly opens the door. He coughs to indicate his presence to his friend who is curled up on his bed with his back to the door.

"It's Rain, I came to see how you were." He said with a soft voice, walking slowly into the room, worried and hesitant. "I thought maybe...we could talk?"

He continues to take small steps and ends up seeing his friend's face. He sits delicately on the edge of the bed when he sees that he is crying.

"Hey baby bug, what's going on? Why are you crying? Did something happen to you?" He's even more worried than before but he tries not to show it or let it be heard in his voice.

"Nothing. Everything's fine." He said sobbing, quickly wiping away the tears that had flowed down his slightly reddened face. “You can go back and have fun with the others.”

Rain raises an eyebrow unconvinced at the answer he got then sits down in the middle of the bed leaning back on the pillows. “Can I touch you?”

Phantom nods slowly, sniffling. He is turned around by his friend so that he can be held in his arms. He hesitates for a moment then lays his head on his gill friend's chest. Making his t-shirt wet by continuing to cry and hugging him tighter.

Rain strokes his back and hair gently to try to calm him down. He had understood very well that the young ghoul would not say anything without having had time to calm down before and until he had decided to do so. So there's no point in rushing him. He had to give her time. It was about ten minutes later that the crying stopped. Little sniffles from time to time but it's nothing.

"I'm sorry about your t-shirt... It's soaked now." He said in a small, feverish voice, sniffing and wiping a few tears from the corners of his eyes.

"It doesn't matter if it helped you, bug." He said, giving a reassuring smile while tucking a lock of hair behind his friend's ear. “Would you like to talk to me about what’s wrong?”

The soft and reassuring voice of the water ghoul has its effect. The young ghoul thought for a moment about what he could say to him. He speaks softly, looking down hesitantly. "I want to, but I'm afraid you'll find it ridiculous or make fun of me..."

He lifts his head gently, holding his chin, then gently caresses his cheek with his thumb while he looks into his eyes. "I won't make fun of you Phantom. I promise."

"O-okay then I'll tell you." He said smiling slightly. Rain reassures him a lot and he feels safe with him. He takes a deep breath and then speaks a little hesitantly. "I'm- I'm afraid Copia won't like me."

The water ghoul raises his eyebrows a little surprised as he continues to caress his friend's cheek. “What makes you think that?”

"Well...I'm new to the group. He's known you for longer. I figured maybe he likes me less than you or less than Aether since they still spend time together." He says with a small voice and avoiding his friend's gaze because of the shame he feels at this moment.

"Copia loves you. The ghouls love you. The fans love you. The whole ministry loves you. I love you..." The water ghoul hugs him a little tighter and gives him a kiss on the head between his two horns before smiling at him. "I'm truly sorry if anyone did something that made you think the opposite. You are important here and Copia loves you just as much as the others. It's not because you're new that he loves you any less and what's more, you're not alone in this. Aurora does too is new."

“You’re lying to reassure me, huh?” He said in a small voice, sighing desperately.

"I would never lie to you about anything serious. I swear, little bug." He said sincerely, giving a small reassuring smile.

"Okay, I believe you. Thanks for everything Raincloud." He says smiling reassured as he holds his friend in his arms. He looks up quickly afterwards, displaying a big smile, sincere this time. His smile reveals his fangs and his tail moves from left to right playfully. "Are we going to play with the others? I have to go and bother Swiss."

#ghost #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost ghouls #nameless ghouls #rain #rain ghoul #rain ghost #phantom #phantom ghoul #phantom ghost #aeon #aeon ghoul #aeon ghost #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #samael writes #hurt/comfort #raintom

[leventart-den]

I'm here with another silly idea for ZoSan, dear Strawhearts. And you know what? I love cliches. Because for me it is always so much fun to take something that is very well-known and predictable and think how it can be turned around and changed. So, of course, when I see the "f*ck or die" tag on AO3, my brain immediately starts to work and think what I can do with it. I'm writing this in a very subdued and non-descriptive manner (because I'm just sharing a general idea), but I think you can fill in the blanks given the topic.

So what if this happened and during another battle with an enemy ship, Sanji was somehow drugged.

And now this is a ten times worse version of Sanji, and not only regarding girls. And since it's ZoSan, of course Zoro is the one who finds Sanji in the kitchen and notices that something is wrong with the shitty cook. They fight as usual, but in the end it ends with Sanji admitting that he needs help. He tells Zoro that he trusts him, that he is strong enough to watch over him and not let him out of the kitchen so that Sanji doesn't do things to others that he will later regret. 

So now they're stuck in the kitchen alone with Zoro shooing everyone away from the door who comes to find out what's going on. Although later they still had to move down to another cabin because Luffy couldn’t live without food and was ready to break inside. Sanji, in turn, is holding up adequately for now, but over time things are getting worse. Zoro can tell that the cook is burning like a furnace even sitting a few steps away from him.

Over time, Zoro begins to talk to Sanji to distract him. Somehow they manage to talk to each other without the usual fighting and insults. This is probably because Sanji is too out of it and just doesn't have the strength. And Zoro, despite the impression of an idiot that he sometimes creates, is actually very smart and attentive and senses the situation enough to react adequately. Because you can't be the best swordsman if you can't read your enemies and people in general as a consequence. And Sanji is not just a crew member, he has always been his rival. Zoro is able to read Sanji better than anyone to this point. So he understands when "it's not the right time". 

Although, as a few more hours pass, everything begins to slide even further down the slope. Zoro begins to think that the shitty cook has bitten more than he can chew. And if Zoro is completely frank, he himself has been having “strange” thoughts for some time now, which he stubbornly refuses to name. He suggests turning to Chopper for medical help, but Sanji categorically refuses. Chopper is too young and there is no way in hell that Sanji would allow him to be exposed to “such things in life” even as a doctor.

More time passes and when at some point Sanji stops responding to Zoro and he realizes that Curly blacked out Zoro thinks that he had enough.

He manages to bring Sanji back to consciousness and angrily (because he’s worried, although he won’t admit it) says that the cook is an idiot and instead of being stubborn and enduring and possibly dying, Zoro could help him. They could solve this problem. And in general it’s not even a problem, there’s nothing “special” about it, they’ll just forget about it after that and that’s it. However, despite his clouded consciousness, Sanji watched him very carefully and maybe he would have believed Zoro that “there is nothing special about this” if he had not been red as a tomato and his hands had not trembled so much, despite how tightly they were squeezing the collar of his shirt. 

So after a moment of silence, he carefully removed Zoro's hands, never taking his eyes off Zoro.

"Marimo. If you want to help me, help me. Stay with me. Make sure I don't do anything stupid. Restart my heart if it stops. Help me breathe if I can't anymore. But don't fucking ever offer me this solution again. That won't happen, not in circumstances like these. Not under pressure. I don't want to hear this. I'd rather fucking die than let anything control me and influence my actions. I am my own man, this is my body and only I can decide what and how."

There was something left unsaid. Something Zoro doesn't know yet about the cook's past. But he understands that it is important enough not to try to propose this solution anymore.

Silence fell after that, interrupted only by Sanji's heavy breathing and muffled wheezes of pain. Each of them with their own thoughts. Curly is strong, Zoro knows he will get through, but despite this, for some reason it’s hard to hear his pain. Zoro's hand twitches to reach out to him and somehow bring comfort. But he doesn't do that, he just sits next to him.

It becomes dark, night falls over the sea and a sudden thought comes to Zoro.

“You said that you don’t want it to happen under such circumstances.. Does that mean that under different..”

"Shut up shitty Marimo."

"..you would make out with me?"

Zoro doesn't see Sanji's face, he doesn't answer. But the silence is so loud that Zoro begins to think that he is about to suffocate. He wasn't prepared for how hard it would hit him.

They don't speak after that. It's deep into the night when Zoro hears that Sanji's breathing has become measured, he seems to have fallen asleep. The drug has worn off. Zoro sighs, feeling suddenly very tired and as if sobered up. This is an unpleasant and strange feeling. It was as if it suddenly became colder. He feels nervous and angry. And the worst thing is he understands why.

He is afraid of losing what he doesn't have. What he didn't know he needed. Something he didn't notice.

Sanji shifts in his sleep and Zoro feels a growl forming in his throat.

He doesn't sleep that night.

He guards.

#sanji #zoro #zosan #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece #it's a “f*ck or die” situation but nothing will happen between them #you won't find smut here I'm absolutely not descriptive it's just a small idea as always

[jiubilant]

20 questions for writers

thanks @wispstalk for the tag <3

tagging @zurin @ghoulsbeard @danse--macabre @menzoberranyr @nulfaga @trinimac. no pressure!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

i have 113 works on ao3. one of them is a multichapter containing two separate-but-connected short stories, which brings the tally up to 114. this is what happens when you publish a series of standalone flash fiction pieces individually lmao

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

oogh let's see...68,128 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

i've now written for both tes and bg3! getting attached to a customizable player character and wanting to develop their story is usually what moves me to start writing fanfic. if i stopped playing rpgs i'd probably stop writing fanfic

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

a simple solution threescore and nine the way an esteemed and venerable office silly

5. Do you respond to comments?

on ao3, i try to respond to all of them! i don't respond to tags that people leave on my work here on tumblr, but i read them all and really appreciate them

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm thinking that it's a tie between the stomach for it (which ends the story of shurri as a plucky orphan learning about the good in people and starts the story of shurri as a traumatized pawn of empire) and as of the world untwisting

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of the pieces about ravi and little shurri (in vignettes: solitude) end on a deliberately sweet and hopeful note—i try to write them so that it's possible to read them as standalones, without prior context about the characters, so it's important to finish them up in a way that suggests the overall tenor of their dynamic but the form's a little restrictive sometimes! if i wanted to really delve into the ways that they made each other's lives difficult and frustrating (the ways in which they were an average family, in other words), i'd have to write a novel

8. Do you get hate on fics?

it's never happened, to my recollection

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i've included sex scenes in original works that called for sex scenes...i haven't yet run into a narrative reason to write any fanfic with on-the-page sex in it, but i've hinted at the sex lives of my characters in a few pieces, when relevant. it's not usually relevant! the style of my tes stuff is fairly middle-grade. not that diana wynne jones didn't write about sex but you'd be surprised to find a sex scene in the middle of howl's moving castle the likeliest scenario for future work is that i'll write about a character in flagrante if it's funny. enthir's in the faculty lounge smugly hinting that he gets around more than anyone else in the college (he sometimes flirts with birna, who ignores him) (smash cut to urag and ravi smoking in bed)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i've never written a crossover

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge! i've occasionally read bits of things that felt inspired by my style or subject matter and i love that. it's very flattering. i think i remember someone quoting one of my posts in their fic summary once?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

don't think so!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

gf and i have had one in the works forever. that it's not done yet is my fault. it takes me ten thousand years to write anything

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

obviously it's potemaphine

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i hate to say that the future of peace in any season ("the big wip") is in question but it's been in question since i started it...i chose to focus it on a series of events ten years out from the main storyline of tes v on purpose, so that readers wouldn't miss anything too crucial if i stalled out on it but i still have a lot of love for the project and work on it when i can. i'd really like to bring this one to you

16. What are your writing strengths?

what i often hear is that people like my dialogue. i'm glad...it's my favorite part of a story to write

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

very often i lose interest in a piece too quickly to finish writing it down. i have to set it aside until i get the urge to pick it up again. i'm working on a (currently) 1300-word piece right now that i started three years ago, and i wrote 900 of those words last week

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

if cormac mccarthy can do it...

19. First fandom you wrote for?

that'd be tes lmao. before playing skyrim i got a lot more of my original work done

20. Favorite fic you've written?

it's a tie. before the world had skin and cruel and unusual!

[fruityuncleskeletor]

On Vegas and his hedgehogs

I have accepted it as a fact that Gun made a habit of killing Vegas' hedgehogs even when they happened to be thriving and not die on their own.

Hedgehogs were a means for Gun to keep his son trapped in a childhood headspace, in a state of blind submission to him. The way Vegas talks about hid hedgehogs to Pete in that moment of heartbreaking sincerity at the safehouse, he makes it sound like a ritual, like a bonding thing his father extended to him... effectively stringing him along and reinforcing the illusion that they are a family and for that he is owed blind loyalty. Gun knew. Gun knew fucking well that Vegas is more capable than he ever deigned to be. The moment Vegas went into hiding, the family businesses went to shit one by one and instead of being a leader and taking the reins, Gun drove a four hour roundtrip every day to hit Vegas for not being at work, being exploited like a donkey to make Gun look good. The hedgehog, while cute, is not an animal that makes a good pet. You can't just throw one in a cage with a straw and call it a day. And from what we saw in the series, Vegas kept his in a bird cage, with straw or wood shavings on the floor and fed him food in powder form. My dad has hedgehogs in his garden. They are the size of small cats and eat centipedes, worms, larvae, small mice, lizards, snakes, every bug that crosses their path and cat food they extort from my dad's cats. They are noisy, they bully animals tens of times biger than them and are the biggest Gs in that patch of land. Vegas' hedgehog did not have a single item counting towards enrichment in his cage, he had shit food and got ignored for hours and days. And it's not because Vegas didn't want to do a good job and didn't love his pet. But again, Gun held him up to the expectation that pet care goes without saying and if he is not successful at it, it's a failing on his part. And I fully believe Gun made sure all of Vegas' hedgehogs died just so he could tell his son he is so worthless and incompetent, he can't even keep a small animal alive. If he can't even do that, how can he possibly lead a large crime family? (Nevermind that Vegas is already doing that, de facto). The hedgehogs and their repeated deaths are symbolic of Vegas being kept in that state of powerlessness and self-hate so that he doesn't grow strong and into a direct threat for Gun himself. When he finds himself alone with an unconscious Pete, Vegas sees an all too known scenario play out around him. We see him tell Pete over and over that he is treating him like a pet, then panic when Pete is unresponsive after the beating. He is scared that he won't be able to help Pete, and we know Vegas has no qualms about torturing people and killing them; but with Pete it's precisely because Pete carries the pet label, Vegas gave it to him to mock him and to inform his status as a captive. Vegas knows his track record with pets is terrible and he is afraid that Pete will die because of him, by his hand and not from punishments but from Vegas' perceived incompetence. If Pete dies, it means his father is proven right yet again, in an impossible to ignore or dismiss way.

Then, when the hedgehog at the safehouse gets sick, we see Vegas sitting next to a sleeping Pete with the animal in his hands, staring at it. It's only when Pete suggests solutions that he gets into gear and decides to take the animal to the vet. As though it only occured to him that is a thing that he can do. He rushes out the door and abandons his captive and his schemes for the moment, leaving the handcuff key behind. Vegas lives within the limits his father draws up for him every day, and while he can't see the bars, the cage is always there. It takes someone else from the outside (Pete) telling him he can just open the door and walk out for him to do it. The most heartbreaking things about it are this: Gun keeps his son in this dependent state to prevent him from surpassing and likely dethroning him, and he dangles the promise and specter of family love over Vegas' head. And it works because this is all Vegas ever wanted - to be loved, even if just in that mundane way of "at least don't shoot him down before the world does" that is a minimum for a parent to do. But as we know, not only does Gun not intend to give his son a single crumb of love and acceptance, he is also incapable of those things himself, so Vegas is chasing shadows and beating himself up for nothing. The lesson Vegas is meant to learn from the hedgehogs is not how to make himself comfortable in the cage, but to see that being forgotten and neglected in a cage inevitably leads to death.

#vegas theerapayanakul #pete saengtham #gun theerapanyakul #vegaspete #hedgehogs #long

[luvrl0sers]

Hey! Hope you’re doing well. For the prompt how about 42, 44&45 for jungkook?

Thnx 💜💜

tea leaves what do you see?...

it was dinnertime, the house began to warm with the scent of garlic & basil filling the air as the two of you made pasta. your lovely boyfriend providing the music dancing through the house. while he took care of the meat on the stovetop, you were cutting the veggies. “hey babe?” kook asked as he stirred the sauce. “yeah” you replied setting the knife down leaning against the cutting board to answer his question. as you went back to dicing your hand brushed against the knife handle making the knife fall. as it fell, without thinking you tried to catch it, by throwing your leg against the cupboard hoping to stop it from hitting the ground. on the way down instead of catching it the knife caught your thigh leaving a sizeable cut across it. “ahh” you winced. your boyfriend spun around to look in your direction to see what had happened. seeing the long wound on your leg he ran towards you, scooping you up in his arms & bringing you to the couch so he could take a better look at it. “hold on, stay right there” he said then running to the bathroom to grab the first aid box from under the sink. he came back quickly with the big white box setting it down next to you. he took out some gauze covering your cut with them, applying some pressure to it to stop it bleeding quicker. “oww” you cried. “i'm sorry baby, i need it to stop bleeding so i can look at it; so i can take care of you” he frowned seeing how much pain you were in. “nothing’s gonna happen to me with you taking care of me, right?” “nothing's gonna happen to you i promise. it's really not very deep, it's just bleeding a bit” he reassured you. after a few minutes he softened the pressure of his hands on your thigh & took a look at the cut. “it's not too bad, i just have to clean it & wrap it up” he smiled grabbing your hands & waving them around in celebration. you smiled at his attempt to cheer you up. but your smile turned into concern focusing back on the word clean. “clean? but that's gonna hurt so bad” you began to feel overwhelmed with tears again. “only for a few seconds baby, i love you too much to leave you like this. i don't want you getting an infection” he gave you a sympathetic smile while he softly rubbed the side of your leg. “i promise i'll be as fast as i can” he convinced you further. “okay...” you agreed reluctantly. he brought out some clean gauze & the solution to clean your wound. “okay this is how i'm gonna do it, i'm gonna pour the solution on the gauze & im gonna go over the cut a few times to make sure it gets in there okay? i'll go fast; are you ready?” he saw you looking unsure. he prepared the gauze “here, squeeze my hand” he gave you his free hand & gave your hand a few good squeezes. “on three okay. one...two...three” he quickly but gently swiped over your thigh a few times with the wet gauze.“AH” you yelped, the solution felt like lemon on a papercut multiplied by ten. you squeezed koo's hand tight shutting your eyes. “i know it hurts. i'm sorry, i know baby” he said throwing the gauze as he was finished with it. he quickly gave you his other hand to squeeze. “i'm so sorry honey” it hurt him so bad seeing you in such pain it made his heart squeeze every time he felt you tighten your grip on him. the stinging lessened away after a minute. he kissed the tops of your hands, pulling on your arms so that you leaned towards him, pressing a kiss to your lips. he cupped your face with his hands wiping away all the tear streaks he could see with his thumbs. “now we just wrap it okay, sweetheart the hard part is over. i'm proud of you” “thank you baby, & thank you for taking care of me” you sniffed cupping his face. he just about melted before looking for the wrap. after finding it he gently but securely wrapped your thigh, kissing the top of your injury when he was finished. he got up to check the kitchen for anything salvagable. he came back & sat behind you pulling your back to his chest; “i think we should order take out instead, all we were cooking is burnt” you both laughed.

he babied you all night as you ate & watched a movie.

#damn i didn't expect it to be this long #i hope you like it bc idk how to feel about it #lmk what you think tho :) #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #bts imagine #bts imagines #prompt game #🍃 tea leaf readings

[noramoons]

by my side — part three

pairing: lee minho x fem reader (afab)

genre: bodyguard au, (slight) enemies to friends to lovers

rating: mature/18+

word count: 7.5k

warnings: language, mentions of violence, stalking, mentions of weapons (guns/knives), use of alcohol, more to be added

summary: you’re less than thrilled when your CEO father appoints you a bodyguard—especially when that bodyguard is a childhood friend you haven’t seen in years. but there’s far more to him (and your father’s business) than you know.

previous | next | masterlist | also posted on ao3!

So—this is a problem. Without a doubt.

You're suddenly far more aware of Minho's presence around you. Everywhere. There's butterflies in your stomach when you brush shoulders in the kitchen in the morning, or when he opens the car door for you, that sure as hell weren't there before. Christ, you even find yourself overthinking the texts you send to him letting him know your plans for the day after your classes now. What on Earth is wrong with you?

You scrounge within your subconscious for those feelings of dislike you'd first felt about Minho once he'd showed up seemingly out of nowhere in the living room of your apartment—how annoying he'd been, how persistent he'd been about sticking to the job he'd been assigned and doing nearly everything in ways that would purposely get under your skin—but those feelings are nowhere to be found. Every time you try to dig deep for those emotions again, you're met with a reminder of the Minho you'd seen that night in the parking lot, and then later in your shared bathroom—he'd been so unlike the man you'd known up until that point. Rather, he'd been more like the boy you'd known as a child, albeit with more scars and a haunted look in his eyes that you know wasn't there ten years ago.

This train of thought still always leads to the question that's been on your mind from the beginning, really. You haven't seen Minho in ten years after his family had seemingly packed up in the middle of the night and left—in that span of time, something had to have happened to him to make him this way. You want to know.

You also know it's none of your business. Minho had practically said it himself when he tried to correct you for being concerned about his wounds; this is clearly just a job to him, after all. Nothing more than that—do you really have a right to know what's caused that kind of a shift in the man from the boy you once knew?

It's that internal struggle that leads you utterly conflicted about what to do about Minho (and whatever the hell these feelings might be that you feel now whenever your eyes meet). If you were a better, more mature person, you think you'd probably sit down with the man and have a conversation. Establish some boundaries over what he's comfortable sharing, and then ask what's been on your mind.

Unfortunately, you are not that idealized version of yourself—and the easiest solution to the Minho problem is to just avoid him altogether until you can sort out the war raging in your mind about him.

This, of course, is much easier said than done, especially considering the man is being paid to watch your every move—but you know Minho notices your sudden change in attitude. You don't fight him on every change in schedule he suggests, and your responses to his cheeky quips aren't nearly as creative as they once were—you'd have to be blind to notice the way his gaze lingers on you now when he drops you off for your classes, or when you tell him goodnight from the living room and head to your bedroom. He knows something's wrong; you just aren't sure if he cares enough to ask you.

That was what you had thought, at least—it takes two weeks after you started practically avoiding him for Minho to corner you. You're supposed to be on your way home from your day of classes—Minho driving the two of you back to your apartment, of course. It's taken you a moment too long to realize that Minho hasn't started the car yet, and the two of you are just sitting in the parking lot, in silence, for some reason unbeknownst to you.

But Minho breaks that silence soon thereafter, the keys to the ignition clutched in one hand with his other hand on the wheel. "Y/N," he starts, quietly. "Did, um...did the other night upset you?"

You knit your eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

He turns to look at you. "You know what I mean. The man in the parking lot trying to take your keys. It's okay if that freaked you out, honestly—I'd be more surprised if it didn't."

Oh—that's what he's talking about. Not the way you were practically drooling over him tending to his wounds shirtless in your shared bathroom. Well—you suppose that's a relief. Isn't it? "Oh," you start, somewhat lamely. "I mean...yeah. It bothered me, certainly. I just don't want to feel helpless like that, you know? That was the whole point of having pepper spray, of all things, on my keys, but that guy still got a cut on me anyway. I don't know," you say, realizing you've started nervously rambling. "I guess I just wish there was something else I could've done there. I know the whole point of having you around is to watch out for things like that, but you won't be keeping an eye on me forever."

The ghost of a smirk dances across Minho's lips for a brief instant. "Only if you're lucky."

You ignore the sudden rush of butterflies that seem to manifest in your stomach once those words reach your ears. "You know what I mean. I've never had to feel nervous about these kinds of things before, you know—someone spying on me or making threats because of my dad?"

Minho shrugs. "Well, that guy in the parking lot wasn't connected to your father. He did let me know that, at least. That really was just some freak who wanted your car."

Your eyes widen. "So you did hear from him, then? My father?"

He nods. "Sure. He told me when I gave him my weekly report that his men had spoken to the guy."

That sinking feeling suddenly blooms in your chest—but it's one that you know all too well when it comes to your father. Disappointment. "So he knew someone had tried to rob me. Didn't bother to see if I was okay, or anything."

Minho's voice is much quieter, now. Gentler. As if he knows to tread carefully. "I won't defend that man to you. I'm sure you aren't surprised by him, but—it is shitty. I'll agree. I'm glad you're alright, if that means anything to you."

Somehow, it feels better than him saying he's sorry. Saying he feels sorry for you, that he feels bad—it would've only made you feel worse. So you look up at him, offering him a small smile. "It does mean something to me, Minho. But...you're right. You probably won't be around here forever. So, I...I want to be prepared for when you aren't. I want to be able to defend myself when you aren't around to do that."

Minho knits his eyebrows, thinking. "What do you mean?"

"Like how you tackled that guy and pinned him to the ground that night. I want to know how to do that."

"Self-defense? Sure," he says, nodding. "I could show you a few things. Besides—if you knew how to take better care of yourself after I'm gone, it might help me sleep better then. Who knows." He grins.

And there it is again—that funny flurry of butterflies taking home in the pit of your chest. Does he have any idea what kind of effect he's having on you? God. You hope not.

"I know a place we can go," Minho continues. "There's an older gym downtown. We can go tomorrow if you want—the place is always closed for cleaning on Saturdays."

You're still so dazed from his last remark that you don't stop to wonder how Minho would be able to get into the gym on a day that it was closed. In retrospect, you'll wonder later, maybe you should have.

By the time tomorrow arrives, Minho drives the two of you down to the gym, letting the two of you in the back entrance without so much as a single alarm or siren. You follow him through what must be the employee entrance, walking into the actual gymnasium and watching as Minho climbs into the boxing ring. He beckons you to follow him with a hand.

You aren't completely enthused. "So...how'd you say you know how to get in here?" you ask, carefully.

Minho smirks at you, but there's something tinged at the edge of it—a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't think I did say, actually."

Alright—clearly you've crossed a line. And Minho isn't exactly someone you'd like to piss off, especially not before he leads you in some kind of self-defense instruction, so you fully drop the issue, not saying another word as you take his hand and follow him into the ring.

"Okay," Minho starts, placing his hands on his hips. "Let's go over the basics, first. Posture. If you're getting in a fight—or defending yourself," he corrects with a wink, "you need to keep your fists up at all times."

You do as he says, raising your closed fists in front of your chest, your left slightly further forward than your right.

He nods, satisfied. "Good. Hit me."

Your eyes widen. Starting like this? Right off the bat? "Minho," you say, laughing, "I don't want to—"

He lunges forward at you, his fists suddenly raised, and if it weren't for your sudden and fully instinctual leap to the side, you're sure Minho's fist would have connected with your nose.

You open your mouth to politely ask what the hell that was, but he beats you to it. "Your opponent won't give you a chance to talk it out. You got lucky with that guy in the parking lot—you won't always get lucky like that. You've got to be prepared for them to swing at you, no questions asked. So keep your hands up."

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you put your fists back up near your chest. "So...what? This ends when I get a hit on you, then?"

Minho's smirk grows. "Oh, if you can get a hit on me, I'll call it quits for today, and we can go right back home. I'd be delighted, actually."

You frown again, just about to make another snarky reply when he crosses the ring, standing behind you and placing a hand on your waist. Your breath hitches before you can stop yourself as he lightly taps your right leg with his foot. "Keep this leg straight, too. Don't want you to fall over," he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You offer a condescending smile when he moves to stand back in front of you. "Right. I'm sure you'd hate—"

Minho moves quicker than you can react this time, and when he sidesweeps your knees with your leg, your back is on the floor of the boxing ring in an instant.

He's hovering over you just as quickly, that smirk plastered over his face as he extends a hand towards you to help you up. You swat it away, pushing yourself up off the mat before you bring your hands up in front of your chest again. "Let me guess," you say, giving him a fake grin of your own. "Should've cut the talking?"

He beams at you. "Look at you," he says, grin widening at the obvious irritation on your face. "Such a quick learner."

You tilt your head to the side for a moment. "Let's go again."

Minho's grin only grows, raising his fists once again. "Look for the opening," he says. "When you get this close to someone, there's only a few options you can take. You'll find one."

The rest of your first training session goes just about the same way—either narrowly avoiding Minho, or ending up with your back on the floor of the ring. In a way, though, it feels good—that pent-up aggression from your father earlier and from Minho's constant irritation is all pushed out of you with every punch you throw. Even if you don't land a single hit on him, swinging out at something feels like you're preparing yourself for something to come—something that you'll be better prepared for now than you were before.

That feeling of satisfaction fades later that evening, though. You're getting ready for bed, pulling on your pajamas and reaching for the edge of the curtains to pull them closed when you feel it. It's an unusual feeling, but a familiar one all the same.

Like you're being watched.

You look outside, down onto the street below you, but nothing is there aside from the usual passerby. You think for an instant to tell Minho, but the thought of walking into his room (your guest room, technically—but it hasn't been that in months, and you know it), of seeing him in his pajamas, sends heat rushing to your cheeks—so you simply shut the curtains and lie down, praying for sleep to overcome you as quickly as possible.

You train again with Minho next weekend. And the weekend after that, too. After a month of training, you're getting better—and Minho's noticing it, too. He'd been going easy on you at first, something you were somewhat appreciative of at the time, but now you know he's upped the ante. He's quicker, throwing faster punches that are harder to avoid—but you've grown quicker, too.

"You're swinging too wide," Minho informs you, stepping closer. "You might as well put up a neon sign that tells me what your next move is going to be."

You dodge his kick. "But if I get too close—" you duck from his next swing—"you'll just grab my arm."

He nods. "It's about finding the space in between. The opening, remember? I told you that very first time we did this."

You rolls your eyes. "Right. You explained it so well then, too."

Minho laughs. "I'm serious. You'll know an opening when you find it."

You clench your jaw as you take a deep breath. You take a step forward, engaging in the same ritual you have for the entire session now—alternating your focus between trying to hit Minho and blocking his punches. You swears he's moving faster today than before, faster than you've ever seen him. Maybe you're finally seeing him give his all in a fight.

You've just blocked a cross, ducking to return back to your usual stance before you see it.

The opening.

It's like everything slows down. You can see so clearly what his next move will be—judging by the way he's shifting his feet, it'll be a sidesweep, intended to knock you to the floor again—and you take advantage of his moment of decision.

You start to lift your own foot, as if to look like you're about to deliver a kick of your own. Once he sees it, you take the moment to set your stance in front and lean forward, accelerating your arm towards his face and feeling the skin of his lip split instantly under your knuckles.

You panic for a split second before you remember that this was the point—the entire goal of you training with Minho was to land a hit on him.

Besides, Minho seems almost in a daze. It takes him a moment of realizing what exactly just happened before his thumb comes up to swipe the blood off his bottom lip.

You swallow back your instincts to ask him if he's okay. He certainly never asked you that when he was knocking you to the floor for hours. "The opening," you say, voice somewhat less steady than you would've preferred. "I found it. You said you'd be delighted if I could get a hit on you. Remember?"

He looks back up at you, grinning through the blood on his teeth. "Well, Y/N—consider me delighted."

And you feel your heart soar.

That feeling of pride in yourself and your growing abilities continues with each session. It isn't until a month and a half after you've started your weekly self-defense sessions with him that you notice that unusual feeling again as you move to close your curtains—the fear of looking down on the street and seeing something. Someone that you'd know.

You push it away once more.

The third time the feeling arises is within a matter of days, and this time you can't stop yourself. Every instinct in your body is urging you to step away from the window, to do anything but look down—but you do anyway.

It's a man, standing right beside the trees near the front of your apartment building. And he's looking right up at you through your window—there's no doubt about it. You aren't far up enough that you can't see the way a smile curls up his mouth when your eyes meet.

You instantly move from the window, heart pounding, and practically run to tell Minho as quickly as you can. As you pad quickly through your room and into the hallway, a memory suddenly resurfaces at the forefront of your mind—there was a time when you were younger that you'd thought you were being followed, too. You'd walked home that day, and he was there. You'd gone to school the next day, and he was there again, too.

You'd told your father when you'd come home that day, but he brushed your words aside like they were meaningless. The creation of a only child with an overactive imagination, he'd said. "There's no one following you." And sure enough, you hadn't seen him again—but that memory suddenly popping up makes you much more worried than before. You have this sudden, terrible feeling that Minho, with his occasional snarky attitude and quick wit, will react the same way.

He's fast asleep on the guest bed, but one light push at his shoulder has him blinking awake, looking up at you intently. "Y/N?"

The worry in his voice pulls at your chest unexpectedly, but you push past the sudden feeling. "Minho, I—I think there's someone outside. Downstairs, I mean—someone outside the building. I saw him in the window."

You stand with baited breath, waiting for him to tell you you're out of your mind. That you're seeing things. That you just need to go back to sleep.

He doesn't break eye contact with you as he blinks once. Twice. Then he's reaching across the bed for his pants, tugging them on over his briefs before pulling on his shoes and glancing up at you again. "I'll be right back," is all he says before he walks out the door.

Your heart pounds after the door closes. He's going to make fun of you when he comes back for being so skittish. So childish, afraid of shadows in the dark—you feel your stomach twisting at the thought. Surely there couldn't have actually been someone outside your room, watching you. You're seeing things—your father had to have been right all those years ago.

You make yourself drink a glass of water while you wait for him to come back. Five minutes pass. Then ten. Then fifteen. You're just about to walk down there yourself and figure out what the hell is going on before you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket.

l.m

> [photo]

You open up the photo attachment before nearly dropping your phone.

It's Minho, standing outside the police station that you know is dozens of blocks away. Like an idiot, he's taken a picture of himself with that normal shit-eating grin, and you'd smack him through the phone if you weren't feeling at least half a dozen conflicting emotions at the sight.

l.m

> your dad's on his way. he said he recognized the guy. i talked to him before turning him in

y/n

< you talked to him ??

l.m

> he didn't talk super well after a few right hooks, i'll be honest

You're not sure if the shallow laugh that leaves you is more from anger or frustration. You decide to just call him. Luckily for you, Minho's feeling gracious enough to answer.

"Hello?"

"What...what the hell happened?" you ask, trying not to give away the shaking in your voice.

The way Minho hesitates makes you think you were probably unsuccessful. "You were right," he says gently. "He was following you. Has been for weeks, now."

"How do you know?"

"He told me everything," Minho says simply, as if that should be enough. "Most people do after a few hits."

You laugh that nervous laugh again. "Minho, you beat him up?"

"After he pulled a knife on me? Certainly."

That uneasy feeling in your stomach grows. "A knife? Are you okay?"

But he laughs at that—that light, carefree laugh of his. "Of course. He said he'd been paid by one of the shareholders from the Answer Pharmaceuticals company to follow you—it's what he'd originally threatened your father with months ago."

You remember that first time your father brought up having a bodyguard, bringing Minho to your apartment and telling you he'd been receiving threats at work—of course the threats had been about you all along. How had you been so stupid as to not put the dots together?

"He finally followed through on it, but you were smart enough to catch him before he did anything. It's a good thing you spotted him tonight—he said he was going to try to make a move into your apartment within days. Use you as a ransom chip against your father. I wouldn't have let that happen, of course," he adds. "But I'm really proud of you for spotting the guy—maybe I'll ask your father if you can be my bodyguard next."

You know you should laugh, but you can't quite seem to make the sound leave your throat. You aren't sure how you feel. You aren't sure how to feel. "So...they've got him there? And my father's on the way?"

"Mmm-hmm," Minho answers. "You won't have to worry about him anymore. Or any of this, in fact. Your father sounded pretty happy on the phone to have this figured out—I'm sure he'll be suing Answer in the morning. He might have me stick around for a few days just to make sure everything's done, but that guy didn't seem like a criminal mastermind to me." He laughs again. "I won't be taking up your precious space in your apartment anymore."

You should probably be happy about that. Maybe a few weeks ago you would have been.

You aren't now, though—the thought of Minho leaving you on your own again provokes feelings that are the exact opposite of happy.

"That's...that's really it, then?" you ask. "Your job's finished?"

Minho hums a yes. "All done. Are you alright? I'm sure that must have been pretty scary to see from your window."

You give the same hum in response. You aren't sure if you're entirely alright—but you're as okay as you can be, now.

"Okay. Good. I'm glad you'll be safe now."

Even as that statement sends warmth through your chest the second you hear it, you still aren't entirely convinced. "Doesn't it all seem...I don't know. Too easy?" you ask, hesitancy obvious even to your own ears.

"It's not always a big conspiracy, you know," Minho replies. "Not like in the movies. Sometimes people are just lazy and get caught. Sometimes things just end." He seems to mull over your words, still, though. "Why? Did you see something else?"

"No," you answer. It's the truth.

But that uneasy feeling still doesn't go away.

~~~

The soft hum of Minho's music bleeds into the living room, where you're trying desperately to finish yet another essay for school (while simultaneously ignoring the fact that Minho's currently packing up his things into his duffel bag).

It's truly over now, all of it. You'd found out through Minho (which he'd found out through your dad—god forbid you actually hear firsthand anything about the man who'd been stalking you, of course) that the man had indeed been an employee of Answer Pharmaceuticals, and so had that man who'd tried to steal your car in the gym parking lot all those days ago. That first man had been a test—a trap to see what you'd do. What you were capable of. He'd alerted the other man, who'd followed you home after that incident, finding out which building you lived in, and it didn't take him too long to find out which apartment it was, either.

You're pulled out of your own recollections by the sudden buzz of your phone on the coffee table in front of you.

yejin <33

> hey! ik it's been a minute, we rlly missed u in florence :/

Christ—you'd nearly forgotten all about that "girls weekend" you had planned right before Minho had arrived, all those weeks ago. It seems so trivial now, but it had felt so life-threateningly-vital at the time—of course, you know a little bit better what that feels like, now. You almost feel like a different person than the one who had planned that trip originally, now—what did she know of any of this? Of stalkers, or being used as a piece in between a feud between your father and his business competitors, or whatever the hell it is you feel towards Minho now? You don't even think you'd recognize that version of you now.

yejin <33

> we're thinking about going downtown tonight if you're interested tho?

> hana's bringing her bf so you can bring yours if you want!

You let out a snort at that. Yejin still thinks Minho's your boyfriend—you'd never had a chance to correct what Minho had said that first night you had gone out, back when the two of you were constantly at each other's throats. A soft smile tugs at your lips at the memory—all that bickering at the start had been so pointless, it's almost comical to look back on, now. It was much less complicated than your feelings now, however—and that sudden thought sours the split second of contentment you'd felt.

Still, though...before Minho had arrived, you'd spent plenty of weekends drinking away complicated feelings. It had worked well enough back then—why not give it another try now?

You walk over to Minho's room (trying not to remind yourself that it will be your empty guest room once again this time tomorrow) and gently knock on the doorframe.

Minho turns around to face you, setting aside the shirt he'd been folding to place in his bag. "Mmm-hmm?" he offers as a response to your appearance.

"My friend Yejin wants me and some other friends to go downtown tonight. You're invited too."

He quirks an eyebrow up at that. "I'd better be invited. I've still got...fifteen hours of being your bodyguard," he remarks after a quick glance down at his watch. "Yejin, huh? Didn't you go out with them when I first got hired here? And they thought we were dating?"

"Only because you said we were," you remind him, scolding him teasingly. "But they, um—" you let out a nervous laugh, in spite of yourself. "They all still think we're dating, you know."

Minho's grin, of course, only widens at that. "That's fine with me. My undercover skills could use some work—who knows where I'll get shipped out to next, you know?"

That additional reminder that this is your last night with Minho feels like a sudden knife to the chest, but you try to swallow down the feeling as much as you can, offering him a faint smile in response. "That's true, I guess. I...I'll let Yejin know we're going, then?"

He nods. "Sure. I'm almost packed up, anyway. Just let me know when you're ready to head out, and I'll drive."

A light chuckle leaves you at that. "You're going to drive? You want to be the sober designated driver amongst a bunch of twenty-something college students?"

Minho laughs right back at you. "How bad could it be?"

~~~

The answer, Minho finds out, is disastrous.

In your defense, it's been a while since you've gone out drinking—your tolerance has dropped far below what it used to be. On top of that, it's been a stressful semester, not even including the mess that being unknowingly used as a pawn in a squabble between two adult pharmaceutical CEOs has been. You'd known classes were only going to get progressively harder, but you've never had to pull an all-nighter to study for an exam before—and it's not even finals week yet.

So you don't think you're entirely unjustified in getting practically wasted.

You've lost count of the number of shots you've taken at this point, holding on to the bar with one hand and the shot glass in the other.

Yejin glances behind you for a moment, grinning. "I'm glad you guys are still together. You're really cute."

If you were sober, you'd probably bristle at the statement—however, you are far, far past that status. So far that you turn around and blow a kiss towards Minho, who's been standing a few feet behind you the entire time you've been perched beside the bar with your friends.

You aren't sure what you thought his reaction would be, but you're certainly surprised when he closes the distance between the two of you and slips an arm around your waist. He smiles at Yejin too. "I'm glad we're still together too."

You're unbearably aware of the weight of the arm around you—it's the only thing you can even focus on, now. You spin around to face him, and his hand instinctively slides further down your side, settling on your upper thigh.

"You're warm," is what you manage to get out, glancing up at his soft brown eyes. He is warm—the skin of his palm resting on your flesh practically ignites a fire within you, burning you up from the inside out.

The skin around his eyes crinkles as he grins down at you knowingly. "Am I?" he asks, somewhat teasingly.

You nod, fully serious. "You are. I don't want you to let go of me."

Minho's smirk only widens. "Okay, funny girl. I won't."

"Never," your drunken tongue adds, reaching out to clutch on to the sleeve of his jacket. "Please."

You're drunk, but you're not drunk enough to miss the way his eyes flash with something dark at your words. "How many shots have you ladies taken, again?"

You turn your gaze over to Yejin. "Four, right?"

She giggles at you, a glass delicately perched in her hand that you don't remember being there before. "I thought it was five."

You laugh at that too, the action surging warmth through your chest again and making you feel lighter than before, still seemingly hyperaware of the fact that Minho's hand is still wrapped around your thigh.

A few of your other friends rush back over to the bar, smiling teasingly at you and Yejin while they order another round for themselves. They're accompanied by a few guys you've never seen before, and one of them glances your way. You watch his gaze travel up your leg, pause for only a brief moment when he sees Minho's hand, and then continue upward. He must be drunk—maybe even more so than you, because he dares to shoot you a flirty wave followed by a wink from across the bar.

Minho's hand tightens on your thigh immediately. He pulls you closer to him, pressing your back completely flush against his chest before he slings another arm over your shoulder, tilting up his middle finger at the poor drunk soul.

The guy's droopy grin fades, and he returns the gesture back towards Minho.

You can feel Minho move to let go of you and walk towards the man, but you spin around and grab hold of his jacket zipper. "Don't," you say, tugging him back close to you. You cup both hands around your mouth before letting out a stage whisper. "You're not actually my boyfriend, you know."

Minho waits until he's seen the man walk away, but he glances back down after a moment to shoot you a look, grinning at you sarcastically. "As far as they're concerned, I am."

That gives you an idea, pushing yourself forward off the barstool as you turn back around to face him, grabbing his hands in yours as you do. "Let's dance, then. If you really want to convince them."

You can practically see the gears turning in his head, but you don't give him a chance to hesitate. You tug at his hands, urging him to follow you towards the dance floor—and to your surprise, he does. Yejin and the rest of your friends see you walking away from the bar, but they cheer, whooping and hollering as they follow the two of you out onto the dance floor. It quickly becomes a whole crowd, bodies occasionally pressed against each other as you all sway and twist to the music, thudding in your ears and pounding in your chest—but it doesn't bother you in the slightest. Maybe it's the copious amounts of alcohol running through your veins, warming you from the inside out and bringing a smile to your face before you're even aware of it, or maybe it's Minho's hands that have slipped around your waist, holding you protectively against him with a faint grin still on his lips—whatever it is, you know that for a moment, you feel safe. Happy. Protected, in a way that you haven't in what feels like months.

You lose track of the time, swaying against Minho, his hands never leaving your side as he looks down at you, affectionate bemusement never leaving his face at the state you're in. You aren't sure when Yejin had even left, but you eventually see her coming back from the bathroom, hair now tied into a ponytail and looking much more tired than before. She offers you a sarcastic wince. "I'm heading home," she says. "Mina's paying for the Uber, thank God."

You raise an eyebrow at that. Yejin has always been one of the most carefree people you've known, so her suddenly starting to worry about money seems unbelievably out of character for you—but you're immediately distracted from your thoughts once you feel a sturdy hand squeeze gently at your waist. "That's probably our cue too," Minho suggests, gesturing towards the door with his head.

You stick out your bottom lip in a pout. "We can't do a shot for the road?"

Minho laughs, and the sound fills your chest with lightness nearly the same way the alcohol does. "From a professional standpoint, I don't think you need anything else to drink tonight, except for a tall glass of water."

You raise your eyebrows at him now. "Going out drinking and dancing is professional, now?" you tease.

He rolls his eyes at you playfully, taking your hand in his as he tugs the two of you towards the door. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a perfectly professional bodyguard this entire time."

You begrudgingly follow his lead towards the door, following him outside as he holds the door open. The cool night air is unbelievably refreshing on your warm skin, and you take a moment to drink it in before turning back towards Minho. "You sure are good at getting into the act, then. I'd almost think you liked me, or something."

Minho almost drops the car keys trying to let you in the door—certainly no correlation to what you've just said. "What I'd like to do is get some water in your system, ma'am."

It isn't long before you're doing exactly that, sprawled across your couch in your apartment after the brief car ride home with a glass of water beside you on the coffee table.

Minho turns around from the sink after pouring his own glass. He frowns at you, pointing at your nearly-full glass. "That doesn't look like you're drinking it to me."

You wave his words away. "I'll have some after I wake up. I'm gonna sleep right here."

Minho rolls his eyes at you. "If you fall asleep on the couch like that, you're just going to complain to me all day tomorrow about how much your neck hurts. I can hear it already—'Minho, why didn't you tell me to move? What kind of bodyguard are you, anyway?'"

You scoff at him, sliding further down on the couch before closing your eyes. "I would never say that."

He returns the scoff. "Sure you wouldn't," he replies coolly—and you have exactly three seconds of thinking he sounds much closer than he was earlier before a pair of hands slide underneath your body, lifting you off the couch and hauling your body against Minho's chest.

You open your eyes in surprise, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck nearly out of instinct. "And what do you think you're doing, exactly?"

Minho starts walking out of the living room. "Taking you to your room so you don't give me a headache tomorrow about your headache," he answers, not even looking down at you as he passes the doorway into your bedroom.

You're just about to spit out another few words of protest before Minho's laying you down gently against your sheets, unfolding your blanket so you can sleep underneath it. The action sends heat to your cheeks before you can stop it—you hope Minho just thinks you're still ridiculously drunk if he happens to notice.

"Alright," he says, standing back up. "Can I get you anything else before you go to sleep?"

You cross your arms indignantly. "What about that oh-so-important water? I left it in the living room when you picked me up without warning."

Minho extends a too-wide smile at you. "Of course, ma'am. I'll be right back."

And he is, returning only seconds later with your glass in his hand while you clap sarcastically. He bows mockingly after depositing the glass on your nightstand.

"Anything for you, Miss Y/N," Minho says teasingly after standing back up to his full height.

"Anything, hmm?" you ask in the same tone.

You hadn't meant for it to sound so scandalous—but the minute the words leave your mouth, you know there's something different in the air between you and Minho.

"Mmm-hmm," Minho replies, his voice laced with careful precision now. "Anything."

You stare at him, standing above you—that slight crease of worry between his eyebrows, his beautiful dark eyes, the way his jacket stretches against his powerful arms and shoulders—and you reach for him.

You can tell he isn't completely sure what you're doing, but he takes your hand, kneeling beside the bed as you move your other hand to stroke his hair. "Thanks for coming with me tonight," you whisper.

Minho swallows. "Of course,” he offers as a quiet reply.

There's a moment of knowing silence, both of you staring at each other and feeling your own heart pounding in your ears.

But Minho takes hold of your hand in his hair and gently lays it back down at your side before moving to stand up. "Not now," Minho says, his voice suddenly softer now, that familiar edge of knowing to it. Of course he'd known what you were thinking—and he'd known it was a bad idea, just like you. "I'm not doing this while you're drunk." He pushes your hair off your forehead, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin there before standing back up and walking to the door. "Tell me if there's anything else you need, Y/N. You know where I'll be."

"But you'd do this if I was sober?" you respond to his previous statement, your heart practically thundering out of your chest as you pose the question.

Minho turns back to look at you, that all-too-familiar sad smile across his lips as he stands halfway in the doorway. "Goodnight, Y/N," he says instead with that softness still ever-present in his voice, leaving your room for good this time.

You don't know how you're ever going to fall asleep now—you're still slightly dizzy every time you close your eyes, not to mention the mach speed your thoughts are bouncing through your brain at, nearly matching the thud of your heart in your chest. Still—despite everything, sleep still does eventually manage to overtake you, as it always eventually does, and you let yourself stumble into another dreamless sleep.

~~~

The first thing you do in the morning is reach for the water—Christ, your head hurts.

It's not long before you hear a soft knock at your door. You're half-expecting him to gloat, to come in your room with glee as he tells you how much his head doesn't hurt and how good he feels this morning, not the slightest bit hungover.

But he doesn't. Rather, the look on his face as he peers in the doorway is nothing more then worry. "Hi," he says quietly, shooting a small wave your way.

You return the gesture, somewhat weakly. "Hi," you croak out.

Minho winces. "Feeling alright this morning?" he asks, moving to sit beside you on the side of your bed.

You shrug, quickly draining half the contents of the glass in your hand. "I've felt worse. I'll be alright once I get up, I think."

He frowns at that. "I don't think we're doing anything today—I don't see why you can't stay in bed until you feel better. Give yourself some rest."

You smile a little at that. "Oh, come on. What happened to you ordering me around about getting out and staying healthy?"

He returns your expression. "Those orders do not apply for a hungover," he says, gentle chiding in his tone. "Believe me—I'd know."

You take in his face for a moment, staring at the genuine concern spread across his features for probably longer than necessary. "I appreciate this, Minho," you start. "All of this. I know you're getting paid to make sure I don't die, and I suppose that includes not drinking myself to death, but—thank you. I do really appreciate it."

A smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. "Of course, Y/N. I'd do this for you even if I wasn't getting paid." He seems to reconsider his words after a moment. "Well—maybe I'd have to consider a small commission. I don't know."

You let out a small laugh. "I'd still appreciate it anyway. I appreciate you. And I...I meant what I said last night. All of it."

Now he's the one staring at you for longer than necessary. Trying to tell if you're teasing him or not—but you hope he knows you wouldn't dare. Not about this. "Y/N..." he starts. "I meant all of it too. I'll always look out for you."

You're suddenly aware of how close he is—your legs are quite literally an inch away from brushing each other. This space the two of you have created is clearly intentional, neither one of you wanting to cross any boundaries.

Well—you hadn't wanted to until about fifteen seconds ago.

This time, when you reach out towards Minho, he grabs your hand before you can touch him, gently intertwining your fingers. He glances down at your hands and back up to your face, gaze lingering around your mouth for only a split second before he cups your chin with his free hand and presses his lips to yours. He's kissing you.

He's kissing you.

It's soft, gentle, both of you still afraid of making the other uncomfortable—that is, until you lean up with your free hand to slide a hand through Minho's hair, and the sigh he lets out into your mouth sends a cascade of butterflies through your stomach. You pull him tighter against you, and he reciprocates, moving his fingers from cupping your chin to twirling through your own hair, taking firm hold of the strands as he deepens the kiss for an instant—

And then he stops.

Minho lets go of your hair, practically shoving himself away from you as he collects his breath, standing up away from you beside your bed.

You stare at him, chest slightly heaving. "Minho," you say, a little breathier than you had intended. "I—"

"I can't," he says, shaking his head quickly. He won't even meet your gaze. "I'm sorry, Y/N—I shouldn't have done that. I—I can't do this."

Confused doesn't even begin to describe how you feel. "I...I don't understand," you say, slowly. "Is there something—"

But he just shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I can't." Without any further explanation, he turns and heads for the door of your apartment, closing it hurriedly on his way out—leaving you and your apartment quiet and alone once more.

a/n: hello again besties !! i am so sorry for the delay on this one 😭😭 ik you all waited a while again for this update, i really did not anticipate it taking this long but Real Life has a funny habit of getting in the way of things—july was a bit of a wild one for me to say the least. but i so appreciate you all waiting for this chapter, and i hope you’re able to enjoy it anyway !! thank you so so much for reading this update, i hope to see you all in the next one very soon too 🤍🤍

taglist: @hyunee1 @staaa96 @freckledquokka @marylala @ddaeing @jigglymoof @obaebarbs @sftyens @jeyelleohe @leeknows-wife @lizsvcks @xcookiemonsteer @taetae19 @awkwardnesshabitat @elizabeth11moreno @slinekyu @mulligrubsss @hyunjun-jpeg @yuchan-stole-my-heart

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©️ noramoons 2021-2022. do not translate or reupload my writing.

#stray kids series #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #lee know x reader #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz series #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #lee know angst #lee know smut #lee know fluff #minho angst #minho smut #minho fluff #stray kids fic #skz fic #beck writes ✍️

[bluegekk0]

What's the family's opinion on the Soul Master, and what he did? Was Hornet aware he was still around, doing evil wizard shit (assuming she knew who he was at all)? How was the dynamic between him and Wyrm, and does Wyrm even know he was still alive even until very recently, or would Grimm or Hornet try to keep him blissfully unaware?

i'll start with the dynamic between him and fpk since timeline wise it would be the earliest interaction between the soul master and anyone in the family

as we know from the canon lore, wyrm was against his soul harvesting activities. all the innocent deaths horrified him, so he stopped it as soon as he found out. and for the remainder of his rule, the soul sanctum was under close watch by his guard to ensure nothing like that would ever happen again. unfortunately the infection returned, and following the king's disappearance and the chaos that ensued, the soul master was free to continue what he was doing

as for his personal feelings about what he did, like i said, he found it abhorrent, but following the vessel plan, part of him started to doubt his own morals, and he would often draw comparisons between himself and the soul master. of course, at the time, the vessels were still perceived as beings without thoughts or feelings, so all of this was still within the "anxious voice in the back of his mind" territory. but after the plan failed, and it became clear that he was very misguided about them, it all hit him ten times as hard. in his own eyes he was just as much of a monster as the soul master, and it took him a long, long time and a lot of conversations before he finally accepted that the two situations were not comparable. if he knew that the vessels were true living beings that felt pain, he would've never went with the plan. meanwhile, the soul master was willingly killing innocents for their soul to achieve immortality under the excuse of trying to find a solution for the infection. in both cases their actions put an end to countless lives, but only one of them did it willingly, and it wasn't wyrm

i do think he told hornet about the soul master, if only to warn her about getting anywhere near the soul sanctum. it was guarded, yes, but the soul master was still dangerous, and it was clear that the king's orders infuriated him. so she knew about him, and i think it makes sense that she would find out sooner or later that he's back at it again. unfortunately, he was too powerful to be stopped, so even years later she followed her father's advice and avoided the soul sanctum. and i also think that, similarly to fpk, she thought of his actions as horrifying. i mean, it's not a surprise, he was mass killing innocent bugs. you'd have to either side with him or be completely heartless to not see anything wrong with it

even grimm disapproved of what the soul master was doing. of course, he's no stranger to killing others himself, so it may be hypocritical of him to stand against the soul master's actions, but in grimm's mind the goal he was trying to achieve was unrealistic, so all those bugs died for nothing. he may have questionable morals, but i think even he agrees that purposeless killing like this is something to be frowned upon

and similarly, holly was also against it, though they only found out about it post-infection. the soul master's plans were halted even before they crawled out of the abyss, so they were unaware of all of it. zote doesn't know, i don't think that topic is particularly frequent in conversations between the family, so he's not aware of it. same for lewk

now, would grimm and hornet tell fpk that the soul master returned to his activities after his disappearance? i think so. hornet might have tried hiding it, but grimm would most certainly tell him. he values honesty, and he believes that fpk has the right to know. as you'd expect, wyrm didn't react too well, it was another thing to add of his pile of regrets, he failed to stop the soul master for good, and many innocents suffered in his absence because of it. but even if it hurts to know, he appreciates the fact that he was made aware of it. he would much rather hear it from grimm than find out himself, so he's glad that this is how he learned about it. now all he has to do is try to cope with it, which is easier said than done, but at least now he has others to support him

#ask stuff #feral pk au

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

[materialising physically in your home already sat cross-legged on the floor] say more about the mechanics au please

ok ok ok so

I’m thinking something like it’s a garage owned either by weasel or oscar and morris’ father that they all work at (to varying levels of willingness) and were raised around

they tend to get left to their own devices in the workshop on jobs, after long enough doing admin/paperwork for at least someone to realise morris isn’t good at it, oscar hates it and otto used to charge way too much just for fun until he got in trouble with the police for someone to realise it’s best they don’t do that anymore

morris is sort of neutral about the work. he finds the noises of the types of cars they get in often overwhelming, and a lot of the messy jobs (changing oil, greasing, even the gritty hand wash) quite a lot sensory wise. he knows them all inside out though, and could list off part numbers for any number of makes and years off the top of his head far better than the others. usually he’ll be found on a stool somewhere cleaning out parts with spirit or doing the mot checks and cleanings instead of big repair jobs. the easy, repetitive tasks where he can use his hands without gloves that oscar sets him too. he’s much better at identifying problems than oscar or otto, more attuned to the small noises/signs oscar misses and otto doesn’t have the patience to look for

oscar is pretty much the complete opposite of his brother; he loves working in the garage. he loves the physical nature of it, lugging around wheels and tools, all the bolts and screws and dirt. he’s very careless and thus covered in nicks and scrapes and burns from fiddling in too hot engine bays or refusing to lie on the foam mats. most of the time he’s the one underneath the cars, reckless with jacks and axle stands to the point it makes morris nervous. he’s similar to morris in that all of his tools wherever he’s working will be laid out all in arms reach, neat but filthy as he usually takes on big repair jobs and the messier servicing work morris avoids. he’s gets frustrated easily but doesn’t mind, because if he kicks a wheel of hits a spark plug with a spanner they won’t kick or hit back, so it’s a good form of anger relief

otto is equally reckless and also - said with such affection - an idiot when it comes to the work, but a smart idiot. he deals with customers most when they’re working because oscar can’t kept a civil tongue (‘it’s smoking cause the water pipe is just loose it’s literally just fucking steam I swear to fuck-‘). he’s a master at ‘fuck around and see what happens’, offering the most bizarre solutions to issues (specific tools made of cut up other tools, zip ties everywhere or just shake it till it works sort of thing) and more accident prone that oscar, and ten times more messy.

he loves fixing and servicing his own car thats technically all three of theirs because they can’t afford one each - a 1970 dodge challenger because it wouldn’t be me if it wasn’t a classic. it’s scrappy thing, full of haphazard fixes and additions that are totally not road worthy or legal but he does them anyway. oscar works on it too but only when something is broken, while otto takes it apart just for fun and morris is happy to watch him and give ideas

I have a lot of ideas for smaller scenarios based on my experiences I can add but this is v long so I’ll do that later :]

bonus: the image of oscar in a tank top and gloves with overalls tied around his waist covered in oil and dirt and a little bit of sweat. yeah

#there are also Sad elements to this bc of course #the amount of ways someone can ‘accidentally’ get hurt being raised in a garage are endless #plus still being under weasels thumb #but I’m focusing on the actual work for now #newsies #newsies the musical #newsies au #newsies hc #the delancey brothers #mechanic au #morris delancey #oscar delancey #otto wiesel

[darkfromday]

game. of. the. year.

okay so highlights from my eleven-days-and-counting playthrough of tears of the kingdom so far:

“DID HE JUST TAKE 27 OF MY HEARTS IN 3 SECONDS???”

yelling “YOU CAN REWIND TIME???” on day 1 and making my mom laugh while she was next to me on the couch

catching a star fragment out of the sky while diving, not once but twice

taking either five minutes or an hour to figure out any given shrine

related to this, either saying “I am a genius” or “...I went to an Ivy” (derogatory) depending on how long it took

saying “holy damn you can go through solid walls?? neat” in ascend tutorial and then forgetting that was a solution to early game problems for the next ten hours

“damn I wish your botw horses transferred” *later* “wait, THEY DID????”

“how thE FUCK do you kill these creepy hands omg stop murdering me I just want the underground shrine!!”

“I’m not smart enough to build shit in this game tbh” *builds a rocket raft for a korok*

the rocket raft breaks apart and the korok falls back down the mountain and into the sea, forcing me to start all over

“where is my house WHERE is Hateno Village was it this far away before???”

(I have made it to Hateno Village. I still have not reached my house)

either curbstomping black bokoblins or being curbstomped by them, with no in-between

*for three real days* “I MUST return to Tarrey Town!! I want to see what’s happening there!!” *finally makes it there and only stays 20 minutes before swanning off somewhere else*

“I think I’m watching these Zelda memories in the wrong order”

having my first Zelda Theory and having to keep it to myself

staying off twitter to keep from being spoiled... only to get lured into a false sense of security since people kept only sharing korok videos, and get spoiled for something I haven’t reached yet anyway

saying “what the fuck is THAT, NOPE” every time I see what looks like a giant elemental dragon in the distance, starting with the first lightning one in an old castle ruin

making so many cold resistance meals, only to not even use most of them for their intended purpose because I already bought all the cold resistance armor before meeting Tulin

trying to dive down from a glide and kill a construct enemy only to miss and fall to the earth below

saying “yeah I’m going to Kakariko” five times a day and not going

getting lost in the Lost Woods again bc WHAT THE FUCK YOU LITERALLY CANNOT TAKE ONE STEP WITHOUT HELLO DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND. WHAT AM I DOING WRONG. (please do not tell me)

finding the underground tunnel to Hyrule Castle and wandering around murdering an obscene amount of Like Like enemies

“oh look, this is where the Hylian Shield was in botw, maybe it will be here again--I can’t open this door--NO FUCK NOT THE GLOOM HANDS AGAIN”

...wait. I can’t get in the room which means the gloom hands can’t get to me. But I can hit them with arrows through the bars. Advantage: me

Tulin’s avatar and I defeat the hands, finally, proof that they can be fucking beaten, I can turn my attention back to getting in that room--no. Phantom Ganon boss appears. Immovable gates do not stop him

the reward I receive for beating Phantom Ganon, sacrificing many good weapons and a shield in the process, is not worth the scare to my heart, because it is not the Hylian Shield

that time I went to sleep peacefully in a stable and the Blood Moon cutscene smacked me immediately in the face

trying to get to a shrine sitting on top of solid ice in the dumbest ways for an hour, before realizing that I could just rewind time on some of the falling stones in the area to get high enough in the air to float down to it

“I have so many bomb arrows!” “...now I don’t”

saying “why can’t we have remote bombs, stasis or cryonis back” at least once a week mid-puzzle

“whisper to me, horse god”

“THERE’S A MEAL LIMIT??”

“THERE’S SHRINES IN THE SKY???”

“THERE’S SHRINES UNDERGROUND????”

living out my dream of being a journalist even though I have the wrong degree IRL (thanks Lucky Clover Gazette)

“There’s how many wells?”

seeing a black boss bokoblin in Hyrule Castle and just going “NO.” and turning around

two Lynels have seen me. neither have engaged

living in fear of the day Hestu gets bored and leaves Lookout Landing

“are my other botw friends besides Teba okay... I’m scared to check”

“you know, Rauru’s kinda.... nevermind”

holding in my trauma because I’ve been poor in video games before even when others were rich, but this is the first time I really feel poor (and so do other people apparently)

Beedle is my best friend

“cool, pirates in Lurelin”! *doesn’t go to investigate*

performs most haphazard tower-and-shrine-collection methods of all time

dying a billion times in the first few days. and still dying. died today in fact

“you know, Ganon’s kinda... NEVERMIND”

having either 100 brightbloom flowers ready for the depths or 17

wondering when I will feel strong enough to fight a Hinox, Stalnox or other big boi

*first Talus-riding Bokoblin encounter* “WHEN I SAW THIS IN THE TRAILER I DIDN’T THINK THIS WOULD BE REAL”

having to almost bite my tongue to keep from calling the “ultrahand” ability “godhand” in the first few days for some reason idk why

“I will reunite you!! I must get you to your friend! This is so exciting!” <- me about the first korok-friend-reuniting mission......

“please tell me there’s not 900 more koroks in this game, I didn’t even get them all in the last one”

searching for an outfit that isn’t weaksauce in defense but lets Link have his hair down because....~

dying several times on the tutorial sky island because I needed to get down to a lower platform and I forgot that diving into water is a safe activity

RIP to my fire fruit stash

“I SUCK AT SHIELD SURFING NOW :’(”

...and I’ve only done a little of the game.

#the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #Darkday plays games #personal

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Just watched Terminator!! Same situation happens, S/O or Skeleton's brother comes from the future, and warns of an ruined tommorrow. How does Skeleton react to an older and more scarred version of their S/O or Brother, and impending doomed future?

I chose their brothers!

Undertale Sans - He's quite disturbed, but listens to everything the older Papyrus says. He notes everything in one of his notebooks, the ones he's using to follow the different timelines. Once it's done though, he can't just let this other Papyrus go without a big hug to tell him he did a good job and to be safe. He can see in his eyes he's dead in his future, but that's ok, he has no regret when he sees this.

Undertale Papyrus - That's quite a lot of knowledge and Papyrus is not sure what to do of it. Sure, it's still nice to have a warning, but what can he possibly do to avoid all of this? He's nobody! Older Sans just smile softly at him and tells him that he's the coolest and that he will figure out something, he's trusting him with his life. Papyrus wants to help, so as soon the other Sans is gone, he's going to see Alphys and his own brother to explain everything, hoping they will believe him because he's not sure he's believing it himself.

Underswap Sans - He's not trusting this version of his baby brother. He's not sure why, but this Honey is too different of his Honey and he can't just assume they are the same. Blue is on the defensive during their talk and older Honey is more and more desperate as he's realising Blue doesn't believe him. Future Honey finishes by disappearing because his time is limited. Blue refuses to trust him until the first warnings start to happen for real.

Underswap Papyrus - He listens silently to everything future Blue says, and as soon as he's gone, he starts to hyperventilate and faints. What the hell? He's not a savior! He just wanted to watch TV! You can't just tell him the world is about to end and ask him to find a solution all by himself?! This is way too much pressure. He got insomnias for days, before attempting to look more into what the other Blue said.

Underfell Sans - He's not sure what was in his whisky but that's really strong apparently. Red is just laughing at the face of this elder Edge, drunkily shaking off everything he's saying. He knows it's all just his imagination. Then why does he have this gut feeling it is not?

Underfell Papyrus - "TELL ME SOMETHING ONLY MY BROTHER WOULD KNOW." "ya were so scared of the human under your bed ya shit yar pants for six years before I tell you it's not real." "... I DID NOT!" "yeah ya did!" "NO! I DID NOT I DID NOT I DID NOT. YOU'RE NOT MY BROTHER YOU ASSHOLE!" "sure, but it's still the end of the world in four years so are you going to listen or what?!" "DON'T RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME! I CAN RAISE MY VOICE TOO!" "oh fuck you boss! i'm in the middle of an apocalypse just fuckin listen ta me for once in your damn life! it's very imp-". And Red just disappeared, without saying what was going to happen. Edge just shrugs. That's probably fine.

Horrortale Sans - He sighs. What this Willow is saying to him is that despite surviving to a famine... it's the end of the world in a few years. Greeeeeeat. But, uh, why did Willow come to him? Oak tries his best to listen but, uh, with his memory problems, the chances he forgets everything in the next ten seconds is actually very high. Willow kinda realises that after asking him to repeat what he just say. Oak just stares at him blankly, head empty of all thought. Future Willow just writes everything on a paper and asks him to give it to his Willow. Ah, see, this he can do!

Horrortale Papyrus - Future Oak looks around him, looking completely lost, then looks at Willow. "what am i doing here?" "YOU JUST TOLD ME YOU'RE FROM THE FUTURE." "... am i?" "WELL I THOUGHT YOU JUST HAD A SEIZURE OR SOMETHING, BUT MY BROTHER IS SLEEPING IN THE COUCH SO... MAYBE?" "oh. cool." "... YOU WANTED TO TELL ME SOMETHING IMPORTANT." "... oh. what was it?" "WELL I DON'T KNOW, YOU TELL ME!" "i don't know either. are you cooking? i'm hungry." Well just great, Oak forgot to warn Willow about the future...

Swapfell Sans - Hum... Is his brother pranking him? Nox is looking at this Rus suspiciously, then at the room to search for any camera recording this. This is also a way for him to not, you know, FREAK OUT about the fact there's a guy from the future in his house and that he's telling him it's the end of the world soon and that HE is the only one who can stop it. He can't do that! Why the hell did you think he could do that? He hates supernatural shit! Rus tells him it's not paranormal, it's science! Nox screams back it's the same thing. Rus just asks him to call Undyne so he can tell her everything and gets over with.

Swapfell Papyrus - He laughs nervously. Why did you think it was a good idea to tell HIM all of this? I mean, the guy can barely WALK on his own. How does he know if he's not the one who caused the apocalypse somehow because of this moment? You know, like he already tried to fix everything and messed up and that caused the apocalypse?? Future Nox says he has a headache.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He thanks his baby brother then take advantage of the apocalypse to take the control of the world because what fool wouldn't take an opportunity like this? Now the future is even worst...

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He tries to stay focus, but really all he hears is "blah blah blah blah" as Wine keeps talking again and again and god he is so bored right now, he just wants to paint. When Wine asks him if he understood everything, Coffee politely nods. Wine thanks him and leave, telling him the future is now in his hands. ... Wait what? WHAT DO YOU MEAN IN HIS HANDS?! Coffee goes to see his brother and tells him he knows the end of the world is coming but that he has no idea how to stop it because he didn't listen...

#undertale #underswap #underfell #horrortale #swapfell #fellswap gold #sans #papyrus #undertale ask blog #undertale asks #undertale imagines #undertale headcanons

[airplanned]

WIP Wednesday

I am working on the last chapter of Soft Science, and I’m sorta working on my Zelink Week offering.  But then this happened.  No worries, those will both get finished.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to take all this and roll it into dialogue later in the chapter.  It’s a little rough, but sometimes you just have to get this stuff down before you can make it better.  Anyway, here’s a big chunk of premise for this new story!

---

Last month Holodrum sent five sheep as a gift and symbol of their mutual support.  Apparently the sheep are from a line that was once, long ago, taken from Hyrule, and Holodrum returning them is a sign of good faith.  This would be a tremendous gesture if there was any record at all of the sheep ever having been taken or of them existing in the first place.  The ambassador suggested that maybe the records were lost when the old castle was destroyed.

The return of the sheep would be a tremendous gesture if the sheep were not clearly possessed with the souls of demons.  They charge anyone who gets close to them.  They beat at their pens until they tear through the fencing and then escape to terrorize the countryside, ravaging the crops in a nearby field and trampling one poor man, who was still recovering in the royal infirmary.  The last time Zelda visited, they stared at her with square-pupiled eyes while chewing on the royal sheep master's shirt, which they had torn from his body and were now devouring at their leisure.  

The five sheep did not all look the same.  They all had fluffy wool of a light gray color, and they were all so round as to fool you into thinking they were cute.  But their horns were all different.  One had horns that curled on the side of its head lie a ram, except they kept curling for three full rounds.  One had two sharp spikes in tight twirls that shot straight back from its head for about three feet.  One for some reason had four horns  that swooped around its head to point at its gnawing teeth.  One had short thick horns to make it look especially demonic.  The last one had great antlers, like a deer, except they curled inward until the beast wore a kind of crown that he wore with all the haughty regalness of a usurper come to destroy her kingdom.

Then there were the symbols on their foreheads, which they at first took to be drawn on by Holodrum for decoration.  No one had yet gotten close enough to scrub at the symbols, but they had managed a high powered hose to wash them from afar, and the symbols had not come off.  In the month they had been in Hyrule, the symbols hadn't faded at all, and it was now understood to be a part of their foreheads.  Looking into the symbols revealed a single legend of beastly horned guardians that lived in the depths of old shrines.  

Where were the shrines?  No one knew.  They were probably a legend.

What were they going to do with the sheep?  No one knew that either.  They couldn't get rid of them without insulting Holodrum, and her advisors strongly opposed her solution to kill and eat them.  Zelda supposed they would have to just keep them and let them eventually kill everyone and eat all their crops.

Ten years after the twilight, Zelda found herself in need of a hero.  Or at least a goat herder. 

She, of corse, had someone in mind.  But her letter to Ordon came back with the polite explanation that they hadn't seen Link in years and had no idea where he'd gone.  Her royal decree spread far and wide across the kingdom that he was to present himself lead to a dozen brazen young men in green sock hats presenting themselves and claiming to be Link.  If she was a more petty person than she was, she would have had them face down one of the horrible sheep.  Instead, she requested they spar with one of her guards, then politely noted that maybe the hero of twilight was out of practice.

She had to find Link.  And in all her searching for him, the only news she'd heard of his roving exploits were in the form of ballads: how he'd defeated a giant scorpion in the desert and a giant octorock off the coast.  How he'd cleared a swarm of spiders from inside a giant tree and collected the shattered pieces of a fairy.  The stories were probably mostly nonsense, but every now and then there was the ring of truth to them.  Some had, indeed killed an octorock.  The story of the scorpion mentioned that he hadn't said a single word.

So here Zelda was, in a a dingy pub on the outskirts of Castletown, her hair covered and one of her advisors practically vibrating beside her, waiting for a bard to begin his set.  When she'd taken the songs most likely to be true and traced them back to their source, they'd all taken her to this man, whose collection was filled with songs of adventure and magic and heroism and loss.  It made her think he knew Link and had convinced him to tell stories of his adventures so the bard could write them down.

#I need a tag for this #Zelda #my fic

[slowtides]

heyo discussion of panic attack and suicidal ideation

So last night, I had this really long and suspended panic attack that has honestly been bubbling for a while now. It's partly related to considering coming out to my dad and partly related to something else that I can't talk about. But it basically involved this fear that I have that trying to have a future is pointless and fruitless because of mistakes I've made in the past that won't go away.

And it's just been a while since I've had a panic attack I guess. Just the acid in my throat, the cramps in my stomach, the pain in my head, the breaths that wouldn't come. Like everything was swimming around me and I couldn't see past the feelings assaulting my body. It lasted off and on for hours. My hands would tremble and I would coach myself through a breathing exercise and calm down for a minute, and then I would think about it again and it was like a weight that had been lifted was pressing down on me again suddenly. I had been having some nuisance hallucinations and they were getting more and more present, like shadows always on the edge of my eyes. It was so scary and hard and just. paralyzing I guess.

So I started making plans like I always do when I have a panic attack. I won't repeat them, but it was really fucking scary and hard. I don't know. It's hard to write about it without going back into that space, so I won't do it.

And then I remembered that post about suicide that blogger mattfraction made a long time ago. He talked about a suicidal episode he had where he was actually like about to go through with it but remembered that there was a comic series he was reading that hadn't finished publishing, and he really wanted to find out all that happened in that story. And that was what took him out of that moment. He ended up shaving half his pubic hair vertically so every time he looked at his bits he would laugh, and I guess he's still around. I don't know anything about him other than this post that my best friend sent me ten years ago when I was just starting college.

And it's so silly, but it's not silly to me. There's this super long fanfiction that I'm reading. It's over 1.5 million words right now, and there are still at least 500k words of story left that the author hasn't published (they publish every week). And I realized that I really want to find out what happens in this fanfiction, probably more than I have wanted anything else in a really long time. It feels silly to have it written out, but this is a story that I've been reading for years, that brings me so much comfort, that makes me feel like there are things I can be curious about. It is more effective than any career goal or personal mile stone because those are tied up in all the ways I'm afraid to fail or struggle. Because it's just this selfless person giving the gift of their creativity and writing to the world where I can share it. And that's so fucking awesome that I just have to stick with it.

I reread mattfraction's post, and he talks about a friend of his who tried to commit suicide but realized as it happened that he didn't want to go, all because a Van Morrison song came on the radio. And I thought of all the music that I really want to listen to. He also made this long list of things that are small reasons, dust motes, to shake out of suicidal ideation, and none of it is family or friends. But one of them is "who the fuck will love your dog like you do when you're gone?" and I thought of my cat. Who the fuck will love my cat like I do when I'm gone?

Also one of my greatest fears is that I will die at home and be eaten by my cat, and that was the final straw. I started to compartmentalize my feelings and think about short and long term coping mechanisms and solutions, and I made it through the night without relapsing or anything. I slept until 5 pm but that's okay.

I guess what I'm saying is that life can become difficult without warning. And I have possibly become better at managing these feelings than I was when I was younger. And Maybe I should call a doctor or at least a friend.

#tw: suicide #tw: panic attack #it's about the over share for me

[thunck]

“

When last we left the dwarven fortress Bowloar it had just taken several months to recover from a season-long giant attack, when who should appear but another giant. This one, Alotha, is of similar vintage (~370 years old), but seems to be a little bit more cultured. His personality description mentions language skills.

But of course, the main language he understands is pain. The first thing Alotha does is kill the baby Yak that lived through the last attack, as well as a reindeer we adopted in the meantime. So much for that Santa’s Workshop fort concept.

The next hapless visitor to the fortress is an elf monster slayer, Ola Glisteneddune. She is blue, which is weird. Maybe this game has dark elves in it? Anyway, if what Nikot did to every trained warrior that came near Bowloar is any indication, she’s probably toast.

As expected, Alotha finds her quickly and they start fighting. Alotha is still winded from chasing that baby yak around, and he immediately gets injured.

This giant just cannot land a hit on Ola. And contrary to the visitor alert, Ola is not just an elf, but a “ruined hunter”, which I’ve learned from the wiki indicates an intelligent undead. She’s not just any elf, but a superpowered zombie elf with the memories and personality she had when she was alive.

She knocks Alotha out and beats him to death, with her bare hands.

Holy shit.

Does she need a permanent residence?

She’s about to leave but we reopen the main drawbridges just in time, and she starts toward the fort. According to her skills she’s a “dabbling” wrestler, biter, striker, and kicker. I can only assume this means that was literally her first bout of unarmed combat, against an ancient giant, and she won easily. There’s not a scratch on her, just a bunch of splattered giant blood.

Ola makes it to the tavern at last. It turns out she’s just here to relax, although she’s very bad at it. Being risen from the dead seems to have robbed her of the ability to feel emotions, either from being in a room full of drunken music and merriment or from pounding a giant monster’s face into the dirt with her fists.

Also note that she appears to be a career appraiser/bookkeeper, who just so happens to be able to out-wrestle a giant at a moment’s notice. That shit didn’t even slow her down.

So of course we have to scramble the artisans and get some fucking statues made of this queen, stat. The first one is based on general historical information; it seems that her name was different when she was alive. Oh, and she was made a fucking princess, in the year ten.

Which is cool and all, but we gotta commission a statue of her actually kicking that giant’s ass. We tried not to go crazy on the embellishments, and to accurately capture her mindset at the time.

Ola is characteristically unimpressed by our artisinal turbosimping. She is seriously just here to chill out. Although a monster slayer by profession, she’s not actually interested in our wack-ass monsters.

Immediately after Ola decides to leave, Bowloar is besieged by goblins. By sheer luck they’re heading straight for Ola. Fuck yes, this is gonna be so awesome. Slay, queen!

They pass right by each other without incident. She can’t be bothered with this weak shit.

This goblin band does the usual thing, killing a couple visitors in the countryside surrounding our impregnable party fortress before enough of them get beaten up by a human maceman (who succumbs to his wounds) that they give up and limp away.

Relying on innocent visitors to deal with wandering attackers seems to be working out so far, but I guess it’s not a long-term solution. Eventually their parent governments might get pissed off. So we’ve begun building up a militia for when those parent governments besiege us themselves.

Man, I hope we see that Ola again. Although it is weird that the statue was of someone with a different name.

I’m sure it’s fine.

#dwarf fortress #dwarves #dwarf fortress stories #bowloar #giant #undead #Literally took until right now to realize the awesome murderpunch zombie elf and the immediate goblin siege were probably related #This is definitely the reason the goblins could avoid my traps #and why she was just here to relax despite obviously being a monster slayer #Still deserves a statue for that shit