#you' re leaning TOO FAR in the other direction he's LITERALLY the worst guy in a gender studies class now

[fnf-brain-rot]

[Whitty x Boyfriend]

Chapter 5 - Let's just chill!

Boyfriend awoke with a bit of an issue in the.. south region..

He groaned, putting a hand on his head before sitting up. It hurt too. He was about to handle it when he felt a presence to the side of him.

Whitty was just standing there..

Staring..

The blue haired male screamed and threw himself off the other side of the bed, which only made Whitty blink and lean over to look. "Sorry I startled you." He called to him. Boyfriend could only see the swirls in his vision. He eventually got up, pulling himself back onto his bed, also bringing his comforter back up as well. "Whitty, how long have you been standing there?"

"Mmh... Most of the night."

"Wh-MOST-"

Boyfriend threw his hands up in exasperation. "Did you SLEEP??" In response to his question, Whitty shook his head. "I told you I don't really need to." Boyfriend grimaced in his direction, making a small sound of discomfort to himself, then sighed heavily. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I thought you were having a nightmare." Whitty admitted softly. Boyfriend's cheeks began to heat up as he spoke. "It sounded like you were calling my name.. Was I.. doing something bad to you?" Whitty seemed hesitant to ask, gently pulling on the large shirt he was given.

"No no no! You didn't do anything bad! I uh.. It was uh.." Boyfriend bit his knuckle. Well he certainly couldn't say what was actually happening, but he was such a bad liar. "It was a recap of our day out.. yesterday!" He blurted out. Whitty blinked. He did something bad yesterday. Bee says it wasn't directed towards him, but he was still weary of him thinking about it. "How about you go wait in the living room? I'll make us some breakfast, yeah?" Boyfriend offered, and Whitty nodded, turning around to leave the room, of course, obliviously leaving the door open. Boyfriend let out a gentle sigh and got up to close it, then deal with his issue. Shouldn't take too long..

___________________________________________

Whitty sat down on the couch, nervously fiddling with his fingers as he stared at the blank tv. He couldn't have left a bad impression right? Of course not, if he didn't like him, he certainly wouldn't invite him over, and cuddle with him. Cuddling.. was nice. It would be nice to do that right now. He decided to figure out the tv, picking up the remote and mashing a random button. He pressed damn there  every button on the device before actually getting to the power button, and he couldn't help but jump when he heard the tv turn on.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to meet Dearest's daughter today. At least it was only her, and from what he knew, she knew nothing about him other than when they first met. Does she even know she's meeting the same guy? She looked pretty scared of him. Whitty squirmed in discomfort at the thought. What if she knew about him and her dad? What if she didn't like him? What if she rats him out? His head swirled with worst case scenarios, and he couldn't help but stress about it. Boyfriend exited his room about five minutes later. Whitty could hear the bare feet slap against the wooden hallway floor. "Whitty? Whitty, what's wrong?" The blue haired male rushed to the couch. Whitty hadn't realized he had started crying, clutching his head in his hands like he felt a pain too great to bare.

Boyfriend hopped onto the furniture beside him, gently hugging his head against his chest. "I'm sorry, did I upset you? I promise you didn't do anything bad." He mumbled softly. Whitty shook his head. "I'm just.. nervous." Boyfriend parted a bit, looking down at the bomb with a slightly confused expression. "Nervous? About what?"

"Meeting her."

Boyfriend understood. She did talk about how scary and dangerous he seemed. He didn't exactly specify that it was Whitty he was talking to. There is a chance she could freak out when she sees him. Maybe Boyfriend hadn't thought this all the way through..

"How about we eat breakfast? It's hard to think on an empty stomach." He hugged onto Whitty again, gently rubbing his back. Whitty quickly began to relax. No one had ever done this with him before, and it was really affective. He really liked it. "Can we do that thing first? The cuddle?" Whitty asked softly, and Boyfriend grinned. "Of course we can, Whits." He got down, then climbed into Whitty's lap, but he faced him this time, wiping away his tears, just like he did under the tree. Whitty couldn't help but smile a little, wrapping his arms around Boyfriend in a slightly tighter squeeze than the first time. He felt warm..

___________________________________________

Boyfriend had decided to make waffles, oatmeal, grits, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, anything he could honestly find in his kitchen to make a big enough meal for someone who eats so much so fast. He himself was contempt with eating two waffles and some eggs, while Whitty, of course, ate everything else. "Dude, where does it all go?" Bee then asked, receiving a simple "hm?" from Whitty across from him. "Like.. You eat so much, but it's like it literally melts right off of you." Whitty shrugged. "It kinda does.. I digest food faster than normal humans." He explained softly. He picked up his dirty dishes and put them in the sink, with instruction, and did the same with Boyfriend's dishware. "Aww you don't have to clean up after us every time." Boyfriend laughed, sitting up and stretching before standing out of his seat. "I like to. I like to think it shows.. my appreciation for you feeding me." Whitty responded in a soft tone. Of course he didn't really know how to DO dishes, just put them in the sink. Boyfriend would deal with that pile later.

"Come on, let's get ready to go. I have a whole day planned for us." Boyfriend bounced on his toes before rushing back to his room to change. Whitty sighed softly. He didn't know how to use the dryer..

Boyfriend was quick to throw on his usual baggy jeans, white shirt, and his cap. He could barely contain his excitement, he was running back and forth in the hall, of course grabbing his mic and pocketing it for good measure. Whitty had crouched down in front of the dryer, staring intensely at it. "My clothes are trapped." He whined softly. Boyfriend came out from behind him, and couldn't help but laugh. "This is the handle to pull it open." He pulled it, and Whitty let out a sound of relief. His clothes were free!!

___________________________________________

"I'm gonna miss this carpet."

"We're gonna come back dummy."

Whitty blinked. He hadn't thought of returning to his house, he thought he was only letting him stay one night..

Boyfriend was sneaky in managing to get him to stay. He secretly applauded himself. He then smiled up at Whitty, gently grabbing his hand. "Let's get going!"

He decided to take Whitty to all his favorite spots. There was a burger joint he and Pico occasionally hung out at, and Whitty was totally down to eat again, so they went.

"Yeah, all the good stuff happens at night, so that's when we go see Gigi." Boyfriend explained with his mouth full, and Whitty nodded to show he was listening. "Oh crap, I forgot! I'm battling her mom tonight! I don't really know where though, they were gonna come pick me up." Boyfriend put a hand on his head and threw it back in distress. "Does this mean I won't meet.. Gigi?" Whitty questioned him. Boyfriend shook his head. "I guess we'll just have to wait until after. Her mom is sneaky as hell, who knows where she is at any time." He shuddered. That lady genuinely scares him.

Next up was the mall.

Whitty was hesitant to go into such a crowded area, but Boyfriend led him through the door in the back way. There were way less people coming through there, so he wouldn't have to worry about being spotted. As they entered, though, Whitty got this weird feeling.. Like they were being watched. He looked around the clothing section they were in. It was quiet back there too, save for the gentle music playing from the speakers in the ceiling. "Ooh! We should shop clothes for you!" Boyfriend then suggested. "But.. I won't be able to carry them with me everywhere.." Whitty objected, holding his hands up nervously. "You won't carry them everywhere. They'll be at my place." Boyfriend pointed his thumb at his own chest proudly.

He really did trick him into moving in, didn't he?

"The only money I get is from the collabs I've been doing so far, so until I get rich and famous, you can get one more outfit and a pair of shoes." Whitty hummed uncomfortably. Now he was taking more money from him, great. "Hey, I'm offering. Now go pick out what you like." Boyfriend smacked Whitty's leg at the knee cap gently, and Whitty quickly held  it, puffing his cheeks. "Fineeee, I'll go pick out something.." He huffed reluctantly, but proceeded to look at some shirts and pants and such.

___________________________________________

The two walked out of the mall with one bag, and Boyfriend was holding a box, which had his new shoes in it. "Thanks.. for getting me new clothes. I'm sorry to spend your money." Whitty mumbled shamefully, and Boyfriend huffed at him. "I told you, I don't mind. I want you to be comfortable since it's obvious you've never relaxed a day in your life." Bee grunted in response, nudging his leg as they walked. Whitty laughed nervously, looking behind them. He swore up and down he felt like someone was following them..

"Where to next?" Boyfriend thought out loud, mostly to himself. It was already one in the afternoon, they only had about three hours left until they were coming to pick him up. They decided to go back to the house. Whitty felt uncomfortable being out in the open for so long. "You're sure you didn't tell anyone you were talking to me?" The bomb asked, taking his shoes off inside the house. "Yes, Whitty. I haven't mentioned your name to anyone. If anything I addressed you as 'the guy I battled last week' to Pico. Why?" Whitty shook his head, stepping onto the carpet, then relaxing all over again. It was just so soft-

"Whitty?" Boyfriend turned to look at him. Whitty sighed under his breath, then sat up. "I.. felt like someone was following us. All day. It just feels ironic that I'm supposedly meeting someone-a friend of yours-today." He muttered. Boyfriend stared at him for a moment. "You don't think.. You're not thinking I set you up, are you?" He asked hesitantly, putting a hand to his own chest. Whitty didn't answer right away. He curled up into a ball in his spot, the possibilities beginning to race through his mind all over again. Suddenly he didn't feel as safe as he wanted to. Suddenly he couldn't trust Boyfriend as much as he wanted to. Bee could see him breaking down into an anxious wreck, staring intently at one spot on the floor.

He was a little hurt, yes, but this guy had so many people out for him, it wasn't even funny. He couldn't be mad at him for being cautious. That's why he's still alive today. "Whitty.." Boyfriend approached him, and his heart broke when he saw how Whitty coiled away a bit. He didn't stop though. He crouched down, putting a hand on his head. Whitty slowly looked up at him, his black, inky tears trailing down his cheeks once again today. "When I told you I would be there for you, I meant it." He told him. "I wouldn't throw you in the gutter. Remember that? I would never set up my friend. If you don't feel safe going outside, you can stay in here, okay?" Boyfriend gently leaned forward, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Whitty had no idea what that was, but he liked how it felt. It was like his worries melted away with the feeling. Like he was.. safe. He took a breath, then nodded at Boyfriend's words. "Wait.. do that again?" Whitty's eyes held a less somber expression, and he gently held onto Boyfriend's head. This caused him to blush heavily. Whitty could feel his face heating in his hands. "W-What? A-A kiss?" Boyfriend was a little surprised as Whitty nodded. He tried to calm his heart beat. He could feel it beating out of his chest, so hard he would have thought he was having a heart attack. He leaned down and gave Whitty another peck on the forehead, and the taller couldn't help but close his eyes at the warmth it gave him.

"Thank you, BB." Whitty responded softly, letting his face go, then standing back up. "Y-Y-Yeah! N-No p-problem!" Boyfriend's hands were shaking, and he was laughing awkwardly. His face was so red, and Whitty remembered what that meant. He smiled, then picked Boyfriend up, a high pitched "beep!" coming from him. "Whitty!!" He exclaimed nervously, hiding his face in his hands. Whitty tilted his head. That must be an even more positive reaction! He sat down on the couch, still holding Bee in his arms. He was determined they would cuddle until Girlfriend came to get him.

___________________________________________

Boyfriend jolted awake to Whitty staring down at him. Again. He yelped out, but quickly exhaled, putting a hand on his own chest. "You don't wanna be late for your battle." Whitty noted softly. He was still holding Boyfriend. No wonder he fell asleep so fast. He sat up, and Whitty allowed him to, setting him on the floor in front of the couch. Boyfriend stretched his arms up, groaning at the good stretch. "Thanks Whits.." He mumbled softly, his face quickly beginning to redden again just by looking at him. "I'll protect the house while you're gone, don't worry." Whitty told him, and Bee laughed. "I'm sure you will." He made his way over to the door, slipping his shoes back on. "You sure you'll be okay?" He turned around, and watched as Whitty curled up on the couch. He nodded in response, turning the tv on. Bee smiled, then made his way out.

Whitty really wanted to see Boyfriend's little rap battle, to of course be emotional support, but he couldn't be seen. It sucked. He felt lonely all over again, sitting in the living room, sitting on a small couch in front of a tv playing something he wasn't interested in, and he had no knowledge of how to change the channel. He hugged his knees to his chest, puffing one of his cheeks in thought. Boyfriend seemed to genuinely care for him. He.. really did care for him.. Hopefully his friends are similar to that. Even if they weren't, Boyfriend was enough for him. He was all he needed..

___________________________________________

Whitty looked away from the cats on the screen about an hour later to the sound of the front door opening. His insides fluttered, like.. weirdly. He put a hand on his chest as the door opened, and Boyfriend walked in, talking to someone and laughing. He turned to look at Whitty, then winked. "Gigi, here's the guy I wanted you to meet!" Girlfriend walked past him, and looked directly into Whitty's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, and Whitty began to sweat nervously. "H.. Hi-"

"I'm very sorry!"

Whitty's eyes widened, and his cheeks began to glow orange. "I also participated in pushing you to that point, and I wanted to apologise for doing that." She took her shoes off, making her way into the living room. Whitty and Boyfriend let out a breath of relief, the latter quickly following after her. "I-It's okay.. really.. it happens.." Whitty stammered awkwardly, shrinking against the couch as she smiled up at him.

"I'm Girlfriend, but just call me Gigi. I hope we can get to know each other better. And don't worry, I'll keep you a secret from my parents." Whitty's eyes brightened as she spoke those words. She seemed kind already. "See!! I told you it would go well!" Boyfriend hugged Girlfriend from behind, making her giggle. "Yeah.." Whitty mumbled to himself.

Maybe it won't be that bad making friends..

#fnfboyfriend #whitty #friday night funkin #fnf whitty #fnfwhitmore #whitty x bf #bf x whitty

[coffeeew]

do you love me? | wen junhui

❀ → genre: |fluff | school au! |

❀ → synopsis: Everyone knows how much they like each other. They know the feeling is mutual but they are just too scared to ruin it, too shy to say it and too terrified to make it formal because of the feeling that it´s just too good to happen.

❀ → pairing: jun x female reader

❀ → warnings!: swearing | mention of alcohol consumption | my first language it´s clearly not English, excuse any grammar mistakes.

❀ → word count: 3.3K

 ❀ → note: I don´t know if it´s offensive that I upload this while the whole situation involving some of the members is going on since I´m not part of the culture that´s being affected, if it is, please let me know and I will take it down and upload it when the apology is given. Treat People With Kindness Loves.

You raised your head from the cave made by your arms when you felt the scent of coffee coming into your nose.

"Brought you Starbucks."

Said the boy sitting in front of you and smiling slightly.

"Thanks."

You responded with a raspy voice because of your lack of sleep since you had to finish an extremely large essay for your writing class at around four am and your first class of the day was at eight am. So now you were here, with an empty stomach, looking horrible, feeling even worst, and wanting to just pass away on top of the table.

Minghao sat in front of you and sipped into his cup with that green logo printed on it. It was unfair, he probably was in the same situation as you but still looked stunning with his beige turtle neck and his light brown coat. You frowned and opened your eyes, almost offended by the fact that the bags that were supposed to be under his eyes were barely noticeable and his hair looked good even though it was kind of messy. 

"God must hate me."

You told yourself while graving the cup that he had brought you, noticing that was a caramel macchiato. He brought me my favorite drink, I can´t get mad at him.

"What was that for?"

He asked with a laugh due to your comment. You sipped into the cup and raised one of your eyebrows.

"Cause I look like fricking trash while you´re looking like a fashion model on a runway, and we both got the same sleeping hours."

"But I literally grabbed the first things I saw." 

You pressed your lips together making them into a straight line while raising your eyebrows. There are two choices, or he was lying or all his closet was filled with good clothes that made him look like a drama protagonist. 

"Yeah, that made me feel better."

Your lips suddenly curling into a fake smile and he just laughed. Is my misery that funny?

"You look okay, don´t be dramatic."

"It´s me, What do you expect?"

The black-haired boy was about to respond when two hands slammed into the cafeteria table both of you were sitting on making a loud stud.

"I got an A+ on my Calculus Test!"

The male voice hollered making you jump in your place while Minghao smiled again and raised his hands in the air, giving the brown-haired boy a thunderous high five.

"That´s my boy!"

You looked at both guys with a "what the fuck" expression while they hugged. Were you the only one who thought that greeting someone like that wasn´t appropriate and that it could cause you a fricking heart attack?!

"Uhm... Excuse me but what the actual fuck?"

Jun looked at you with an excited smile in his face that faded a little bit by your comment. You felt a small heartache by watching how the slight shine is his eyes faded a little bit as well.

"I didn´t mean it like that! Like, I´m excited for you but you almost made me have a heart attack."

You said by standing up and walking towards the brown-haired boy and wrapping your arms around him.

"I´m sorry."

He responded with a slight murmur. You felt bad now, you didn´t mean to ruin the mood but you were feeling a little bit like shit because of your lack of sleep and the terrible headache that was starting to form in the front of your head. That was obviously no excuse to treat him like that and literally ruin the moment but you didn´t think about it and just opened your mouth, terrible mistake.

"It´s okay, just... don´t scream and slam your hands into a table as a greeting next time.”

You slightly pulled away just to see his face and give him a warm smile. Now you felt a little better, seeing him so excited about something that he worked for made you feel almost like a proud mother, except that fact that if you were his mother you would be liking your son and that´s definitely disgusting and sick and.... your thoughts were getting off the topic.

“I´ll invite you to eat meat as a celebration, okay?"

He nodded and you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead just to then giggle about his surprised expression.

"I´m going to get tired of third-wheeling one of these days"

Minghao was looking at both of you with a burlesque smile. You felt a slight blush come up your cheeks and you couldn´t help to just laugh as Jun hit the back of Minghao´s head by the embarrassment.

The laugh coming from your mouth was almost inevitable. Seungkwan, Soonyoung, Solji, Jihoon, Seokmin and you were at Vernon´s place, he had planned a "party" with some friends. Actual university parties weren´t as movies painted it, just a bunch of drunk friends playing stupid games and singing to the top of their lungs to "dancing queen" by ABBA or "bohemian rhapsody" by Queen. But right now you weren´t going to get drunk yet since some people were still missing, so Solji decided it was a good idea to put the comic trio of Booseoksoon into a game of guessing songs, and jeez, the were competitive as heck.

It was really funny overall watching how they screamed and pushed each other or shut themselves to say the answer. You and Jihoon were watching from afar laughing your asses off. Everything was okay until you, being the scandalous laugher you are, started clapping and leaning to the front as you laughed, causing you to fall into your knees and end up on the floor. You wrapped your hands around your stomach, it was starting to hurt because of the constant tension in the area due to your laughter.

You felt the tears in your eyes and since you made all the attention go to you when you fell, Solji ran to you and kneeled in front of you, making you sit and graving your shoulders, she started shaking you, telling you to calm down since it was the game´s "finals" and they needed to concentrate.

You ended up calming yourself and Soonyoung ended up winning the game. Vernon finally entered the room with some bottles of alcohol and told Seokmin to go get the beer that was on the kitchen´s counter.

"There are taking way too long."

You said while looking at the clock on your phone. Minghao and Jun hadn´t gotten there yet and they were the only ones missing.

"Should I text them?"

You whispered to yourself.

"You worry too much, they said they were going to be a bit late."

Said Solji while sitting beside you and sliding her arms into your shoulders, giving you a little squeeze. You bite your bottom lip, feeling a little bit anxious.

"Yeah, but a little late is not forty-five minutes."

"Actually Minghao told me they were going to be late because Jun was going to pick him up and he lives kinda far from here."

Answered Vernon, sitting on the floor in between Seungkwan´s legs. You pressed your lips together and tried to wash away all the bad thoughts and try to concentrate on your friends´ words.

"It´s cute seeing how much you worry about him."

You looked in Soonyoung´s direction, just to see him sipping into a can of beer.

"Well they´re my friends, I obviously worry about them."

"You know what I´m talking about."

"No, I don´t?"

Soonyoung rolled his eyes with a smile in his face.

"You can fool yourself but can´t fool us y/n, no one else in this room is as worried as you are about them, and we both know you are mostly worried about one of them."

You were going to protest but Solji talked first.

"I still don´t understand why you both aren´t dating. You like each other and I´m sure you both know about each other's feelings."

The heat started going up your face until you couldn´t take it anymore and just pulled your legs into your chest and hid your face between them, wrapping your arms around them.

"I just- I know he likes me and I think he knows I like him but us dating can go wrong in so many ways. I don´t want to ruin our relationship with a breakup."

You talked out loud for them to hear your muffled words throughout your legs. Solji started caressing your back and you were way too embarrassed to raise your head and comfort your friends' faces. You´ve never said that out loud to them, only to the cute Rilakkuma plushie Jun had given to you on a Valentine´s Day as a "friendship" gift, but it was way different to say it to your close group of friends.

"It´s understandable that you feel like that, you know it, right?"

You expected everyone to talk but the voice you heard.

"You already have a beautiful relationship with him and you feel like the fact that dating him could be that kind of relationship but without compressing some feelings may seem too good to be true, isn't it?"

You slowly raised your head and nodded into Jihoon´s direction, he wasn´t looking into your eyes, and you knew he wouldn´t but you already appreciated the fact that he was speaking to you in a way that he hadn´t before. He was really reserved and you both never been that close even though being in the same circle of friends, and you kind of felt closer to him when he started talking in such a serious way towards you.

"I understand it, and everyone does, but think about this. If you don´t speak up about this and try to have something with him, someone else is going to do it, and maybe he could fall in love with that someone and you are just going to be left with the thought of something that actually never was something, you know what I mean?"

Your teeth were bitting hard into your bottom lip again as you nodded. You know that was true, and you had thought about it some times but as you looked more into it, the more scary the thought of losing the one that could be the love of your life, only because you were scared.

"I-"

The sound of the doorbell interrupted you. Vernon looked at you, like looking for approval, you just nodded and he stood up, walking out of the living room.

"Just have that in thought, right now let´s have fun, okay?"

The warm smile that Jihoon gave you made you feel a strange wave of calmness through your body, you responded with another smile, more of a "thank you" smile than a warm one, but he got it.

"hello"

The two guys greeted as they entered the room and as it was meant to happen, Jun´s eyes were already looking at you when you did, he was slightly frowning and you noticed he might have seen how you smiled to Jihoon. You just made a gesture with your hand, indicating there was nothing to worry about making him nod and start to greet everyone, finishing with you, leaving a small kiss on your forehead and sitting beside you.

"So what are we doing?"

"Are you almost finished?"

You placed the cup of tea on the small coffee table that was in the middle of Jun´s living room. He was sitting on the floor, with his laptop on the coffee table as he was writing at a pretty fast pace. He was writing an assignment for a class that you´ve already forgotten the name of. You were in his house mainly because you needed the English dictionary you had borrowed him, but ended up staying with him to, in his words,  "keep him sane during this night." You sat beside him and passed your hand through the hair that was in his forehead, pulling it back.

"Yeah, now I just have to write all the sources that I got the information from.... and that´s like fifty-three different web pages."

He let out a sigh from his mouth and rolled his head, making his neck crack as he let out a small holler of pain. You bit your bottom lip and sighed as you grabbed the cup of tea and extended it to him. He looked at it and gave you a small smile while taking the teacup and sipping into it.

"Thanks."

You shook your head, indicating him not to even bother about it.

"It´s okay, but I think you should rest a little bit, you can finish it tomorrow."

This time the one shaking his head was him.

"I have to finish this now or I´ll never do it."

"Jun, come on, you´ve been sitting here for almost four hours without looking away from the screen, let yourself rest and finish it tomorrow, please."

He seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds until he let out a kind of short sigh and nodded.

"Ok, but you are going to sleep here."

You raised your brows in surprise. It wasn´t the first time you stayed in his house, but the last time you had your bag with clothes and the sleepover had a purpose, like watching a movie you both wanted to see or a series you wanted to watch together, but today, there wasn´t any movie or series or anime or event. 

"But I don´t have other clothes with me."

You responded, trying to avoid staying there, it wasn´t like you didn´t want to do it or you felt uncomfortable with it, but you were nervous about it, you always were, but this time you didn´t have a couple of days to prepare yourself mentally about the fact that you were staying in your "crush´s" home. 

"I can borrow you some sweat pants and you´ll wear one of my hoodies or something. Please, I wanna see Avengers End Game with you."

"Again?"

"Pleaaaseee."

He whined while shaking your arm a little bit. You ended up agreeing and now you were in Jun´s bedroom restroom. You were looking at yourself in the mirror with a sweat pant that didn´t fitted into him anymore and a white hoodie that had a weird illustration on the back, it was kind of big on you, enough for it to go a little past the half of your thighs and for your hands to become sweater paws. You were there just staring and thinking about Jihoon´s words.

"Should I say it today?"

You asked yourself in a whisper then licked your dry lips and putting the hoodie´s cap up and pulling the strings. I´m such a coward. 

"Are you okay y/n? You´ve been there for a while."

You opened your eyes on surprise and pulled the hood down, arranging your messy hair and graving your folded clothes into your arms, then walking into the door and opening it.

"Yeah, I just.... needed to pee."

Jun nodded and smiled slightly.

"You can put your clothes on the desk right there."

He said while pointing into the desk´s direction. You nodded and walked to it, placing your folded clothes on top of it. When you turned to face Jun again something unexpected happened.

"Boo."

His face was in front of yours as he whispered the words. You let out a small squeak as you jumped away from him, pushing his face away in the process.

"Ouch?"

He said with a little giggle. 

"You stupid piece of shit."

You said just to then start slapping his arm slightly. He just laughed as you whined about how dangerous that could´ve been, like you falling and hitting your head against the desk or something.

"Okay I´m sorry~ I honestly didn´t think you´d even jump since you don´t get usually scared with jumpscares."

"Videogames and movies are different from a human face just popping in front of your´s IN REAL LIFE."

"I´m sorry."

He said quietly, making a puppy face that was honestly kind of weird but since you were so fricking whipped for him, it was like a mortal weapon against you. You snorted and rolled your eyes and hugged him, he responded to your hug almost immediately and kissed the top of your head. And then it hit you, like, R E A L L Y hit you, the fact that if you didn´t speak up now, he could find someone else to do this with as fast as tomorrow. You felt kind of overwhelmed by that, making your grip looser and looser until you weren´t giving the hug back anymore.

Jun pulled away and looked at you, frowned eyebrows and worried eyes.

"What´s wrong?"

He asked while looking at your face, searching for any sign of sadness or hurt, but it was just blank, which made him way more worried.

"I... I need to talk with you about something."

You said in a murmur. He tilted his head slightly but ended up nodding.

"Let´s sit down."

He directed you into the end of the bed and you sat down in there, telling yourself if you were actually gonna do this. He sat beside you, keeping a little distance, you knew he was waiting for you to talk, but you felt like your tongue had been pulled out of your mouth and your lips stitched together. You gulped and cleared your throat, breathing in and sitting correctly. You can do this,  I can do this.

"I like you, we both know that, right?"

You said, taking enough courage to look up and stare into his eyes. He pressed his lips together and nodded slightly.

"And we both know that... that you also have some kind of feeling towards me and that we have this weird "more than friends" relationship that everyone knows about."

You breathed in yet again, feeling how your chest was compressing due to the nervousness and your nails were starting to press roughly into your palms because of the anxiety. 

"I talked about this with the guys and Jihoon told me something that has been on my head since I first started liking you."

You felt how his hands landed on top of yours, caressing and pulling your fingers open for you not to press into your palms. Your breathing stopped when you felt the touch.

"I´ve never said anything because I was scared to ruin what we already had. I felt like it was impossible for us to be more than friends because it was already perfect and the fact that it could get better just seems way too... too."

"Impossible?"

You nervously laughed for not being able to remember and pronounce such an easy word.

"Yeah... Bu then Jihoon said that if I didn´t try and if I didn´t stop being a scardey cat, someone else was going to do it. And that´s even scarier as selfish as it sounds, but not only because I had lost the chance to be with the person I consider the love of my life, but the fact that I lost it because I didn´t speak up about my feelings."

You felt your voice become shaky at the last words, and that´s when you noticed the tears flooding your eyes that now were staring at the ground again.

"Hey..."

You felt Jun´s hands cup your face, making it look in his direction, he raised it and left a single but long kiss in your forehead, then he gave you a warm smile, making you sob and letting the tears go down your face.

"No, don´t cry, it´s okay y/n."

"I´m sorry."

"Don´t be sorry, I´m actually happy you were the one that spoke up about this. If I had done it, it would be a mess. Can you imagine me literally showering in my sweat because of the nerves I would have?"

"That´s disgusting."

You laughed. He smiled again.

"But I made you laugh."

"You are stupid."

"Oh, you love me."

"I... I do."

"And I do too."

#seventeen au #kdiner #seventeen scenario #seventeen scenarios #caratwritersclub #seventeen fluff #seventeen school au #seventeen fluff au #seventeen fluff scenario #seventeen fluff scenarios #seventeen jun #seventeen junhui #seventeen wen junhui #seventeen wen junhui au #seventeen jun au #seventeen jun fluff #seventeen junhui fluff #seventeen wen junhui fluff #jun scenario #jun scenarios #wen junhui #jun #seventeen jun fluff au #seventeen wen junhui fluff au #jun x reader #junhui x reader #wen junhui x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen jun fic #seventeen oneshot

[kitkatopinions]

Adam

Adam for the RWBY character ask prompts. This one will be tricky, but I love a challenge. I wanna say right off the bat that Adam is such a complicated character with a complicated discussion surrounding him. I discuss some problems with how RT wrote Adam’s character in another post and talked more about the White Fang, but it’s also worth noting that Adam is really tricky to a lot of people because he is Blake’s abuser, and it’s tricky to talk about what parts of Adam should or shouldn’t have been kept.

My top three ships for the character

I’m really sorry, but Adam is just too hard for me to ship him with anyone, even as a totally alternate universe where Adam never went too far and was never an abuser. I can see him being friends with a lot of people, like Mercury, Emerald, Ilia, May, Fiona... But I just can’t ship him with anyone.

My three least favorite ships for the character

This one is so much easier. I hate Blake/Adam, it makes my skin crawl, even in the aforementioned alternate universes. It hits too close, it’s been tainted too much by canon. Adam/Weiss is also really, really hard for me to see. Aaaand Adam/Yang. No thanks, no thanks, no thanks.

My biggest criticism for the character

I know it’s cliche to say ‘everything,’ but really, truly, there’s nothing good about how the writers handled Adam. From the start, his character was a plot device for Blake and the worst person that the writers could seemingly think of because of course the only prominent, featured leader of a civil rights group is a monster who abuses people and wants to kill all humans. His character is heavily and clearly influenced by the internalized racism of some of the writers, and not only did that harm them from a meta perspective - their clear bias was harmful to people of color in real life - but from a writing / in universe perspective - they stripped him of his few good traits and his righteous motivations to turn him into nothing more than a crazy stalker and then they revealed his branding mark that he got by being branded like cattle by the company WEISS’S FAMILY OWNS AND OPERATES and then without even talking about that at all, they just had him murdered and never mentioned him again despite the importance he played and the fact that Blake came face to face with Jacques Schnee himself in Atlas and Jacques’s role is reduced to being a comic nuisance instead of the massively horrible and anti-faunus and cruel and evil man he was that should’ve been taken seriously.

My favorite thing about the character

His potential. Outside of the terrible handling of the whole White Fang/Faunus/Racism arc, there are hints of a good character there. Adam is intense, serious, determined, passionate, and he started with a moral code. He’s got a good look, he’s got an incredibly sympathetic backstory, and he could have interesting, good dynamics with other characters. 

A headcanon I have about them

I like the headcanon that he doesn’t have much of a real education, but I do think he has some semblance of education that he was taught, some by Ghira when Adam was really young and when Ghira was the leader of the White Fang, some by Sienna, but he also just loved learning and was constantly educating himself and teaching himself all about history and literature - which is one of the ways he connected with Blake.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

So so so so much. I would change so much. First of all, Adam starts the show at eighteen (seventeen when he was with Blake.) Next, no more face brand. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good scarred character, but branding him? Branding him with the SDC logo? It’s literally gross. No more brand, no more scar (because the brand has soured him having a scar even if I changed everything about it and how he got it in a re-write.) No more child slavery, either. The SDC can be plenty bad enough without that, the world of RWBY can be plenty bad enough without that. In my Blake Ask, I talked about how I’d alter her story, since I’d take away the White Fang/Faunus rights/racism storyline entirely and perhaps switch it out with a classism storyline that I’d be more equipped to tell since I’m not a person of color and have never had racism directed at me. So with no anti-faunus plot, I would have Blake, Adam, and Ilia tricked into working with either Hazel or Watts and thinking they’re doing good. I think that I would still make Adam a bad guy, but not an over the top one, and more like Emerald and Mercury. He’d be working under an abuser (in either Hazel or Watts) and he’d lash out and mistreat and be physically violent to Blake (but not too much so) - who would realize that they were duped and that what they’re doing is wrong and try to convince him and Ilia of the same. And Adam would lean into the violence and Salem’s faction, but with the chance for redemption.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Adam’s character allusion is of the Beast from ‘the Beauty and the Beast’ as well as being a reference to Gaston and RWBY writers please branch out from Disney in these fairy tales. The point of his character allusion is that - unlike the Beast - Adam is a monster at heart and the people judging him based on appearances are actually right about him and he is a heartless monster and RWBY writers please stop making all your allusions drained of all hope as a ‘subversion.’ He fits with the Beast/Gaston thing in a couple ways, but as you could probably tell, I hate their dark and gritty fairy tale takes. A mutual recently commented that that Adam seems much more like a Phantom of the Opera character than a Beast, and that’s very true, but I don’t like that either. I would rather stick to a good under the surface character who has a lot of darkness and bad to overcome and makes a lot of mistakes, but learns how to love, for a Beast character. In my Blake character ask, I said I’d make the Beast Ilia instead of Adam, and I do think that’d be good. But if we’re going with the Beast for Adam, I’d adjust by not leaning too hard under that ‘good at heart’ narrative and have it be a bit more gray than that, but have the ‘twist’ to the allusion be that the Beast character realizes he doesn’t need somebody to affirm him and isn’t a monster.

#canoncrit Adam #rwde #tw; abuse #trigger warning; abuse

[belovedrival]

“Where sky and water meet...to find all you seek...”

Last Friday evening, I went sailing with my sister-in-law, Awesome K (aka AK :)). She has her own boat so until Friday morning I assumed we’d be sailing on it. Not so. We were actually taking part in a yacht race. Well, she was, and I was along for the ride. Literally.

My father-in-law drove me to the dock. During the race, he walked AK’s dog. We did see them once - we made sure to wave!

AK sails her own boat (with a friend), but she also sails as part of a crew on a yacht*, owned by another friend of hers. This friend, D, is big into yacht racing, as well as wanting to introduce as many people as possible to his hobby. 

I want to go ahead and dispel the mental picture that you’re probably getting. Ooooh...yachts! Huge boats owned by billionaires! Well, there are those. D’s yacht, Mud Shark, is...way more common. It was 37 feet long. I don’t know how tall the sails were. 

I was a bit nervous, thinking how am I supposed to do anything helpful during a sailing race when I don’t have a clue as to what I’m doing? AK and D, along with Big Guy and fellow Former Ohioan (the other two members of the crew) put me at ease right away. Due to COVID, the yachts were allowed one passenger during the race. (I don’t know how many they were allowed previously.) Passengers are not to help with the race in any way - they’re just to observe. D told me, “You’re ballast. You’ll just need to move from side to side, and stay on the high side.” I was fine with that. :)

The race took place in the Oakland Estuary. There were very specific rules: certain buoys had to be passed on the starboard (right) side, and boats had to stick to the prescribed route. We basically sailed from one end to the other (not all the way, just mostly) for over an hour. If that sounds boring, trust me, it wasn’t.

When we got to Mud Shark, D commented that there wasn’t much wind. And there wasn’t - even I noticed that. Conditions, however, changed. By the time we’d left the dock and gone into the estuary, the wind had definitely picked up. It wasn’t a steady wind; it was gusting, which AK said made sailing more difficult.

D cut the engine once we’d gotten far enough. The sudden stop of the rumble underneath me made me even more aware of the wind. It was literally the only thing powering the boat.

In the modern age, we’re used to engines running every sort of vehicle. It is an odd feeling to be at the mercy of the elements. R-E-S-P-E-C-T to our ancestors, who lived that reality every day.

Before the beginning of the race, D had the others practice certain activities - turning the jib sail (the smaller, front sail in front of the main sail) and main sail from one side to the other, and tacking. I’ve looked up the definition of tacking but it kind of eludes me. The best way I can describe it is, when you’re on a sailing vessel and the captain calls for a tack, prepare for the boat to turn. For me, it meant both grabbing (or getting a better grip on the line on the bow) and also preparing to scramble to the other side of Mud Shark. 

While my only activity (other than watching the others move the sails in one direction and the other and try not to trip each other with ropes) was moving from one side of the boat to the other, this was by no means easy. Once we got going, Mud Shark was up and down, side to side, and every time I scrambled across the stern, usually at a crawl, I was always aware that if I didn’t have a good grip, the odds of me being pitched overboard were pretty good. And the wind was cold. I did not want to end up in the water. Of course we were all wearing life jackets, so even if the worst had happened, I wasn’t afraid of drowning. But the Oakland Estuary is...kinda gross.

There’s definitely strategy in sailing, as there is in any kind of race. One boat shadowed us at one point. BG told D, “they’re trying to catch the wind and cut in front of us.” And that’s exactly what happened. It was frustrating. To be fair, there was another slower boat that was in our way when we could have tried to cut off the boat that passed us, so some of it was just bad luck. At certain times, especially while tacking around buoys, boats were really close to each other. Like, we could practically hold hands with the other crews. No one did, obviously - and not just because of COVID. With all the bumping and jostling, it was easy to see how people could get hurt.

Watching AK, BG and FO scramble around, tying and untying ropes, trying not to get hit by the boom (base of the main sail) when it swung from one side to the other, was fascinating. At times there was a ton of activity going on, and at other times, like when we tacked and were downwind, we were almost dead in the water. I’d been prepared for the boat to lean one way or the other, but there were a few times when it was...a lot. Like me, AK, FO, and BG hanging off the port side, our left legs dangling and trying to compensate for the angle with our body weight. I was never afraid that we were going to capsize but it was intense, especially at the beginning of the race when the wind was gusting. D said more than once, “get ready for a puff”. I had to ask him what that meant. It’s a puff of wind. Duh...D, by the way, was great. He never made me feel stupid for any question I asked. He really likes for people to get into sailing, and is a sailing mentor to AK. I can see why. He’s calm, and obviously knows what he’s doing.

We finished second in the race. When we got back to the dock, the others pulled the sails down and wrapped them (I did help with that), and D had all of us eat some Ruffles chips. He then had me sign my name and the date on this looooooong stretch of blue tape that he’s kept, with the names of every person who’s sailed. Oh, and someone (FO, I think) produced a chocolate cake, so we ate that too. 

Honestly, I thought I’d like sailing when AK had talked about it, otherwise I never would have told her I’d like to try it sometime. I don’t think I like sailing, though. I think I love it. It’s just a bummer that we live a thousand miles minimum in all directions from any kind of ocean.

I am currently thirty-nine years old. If you ever want to try something new, do it. It doesn’t matter how old you are. You might just find something you love.

*During my re-watch of Downton Abbey, there’s a scene when Cora asks her mother, Martha, what her brother Harold is up to. Martha replies, “Yachts. Big yachts...something with yachts.” :)

#sailing #boats #boat #family #life #real life #ocean #sea #california #downton abbey

[writing-is-my-guilty-pleasure]

Stormy Weather || Thor x Reader

Main Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

‘Would you want to do a Thor x Reader where the reader and Thor are spending the day together in Thor’s place and the reader has to leave to do some work for Cap or Tony but Thor causes a thunderstorm so that she doesn’t leave because he knows how much she hates getting wet (she doesn’t mind though!)’ A/N: I didn’t know whether you meant Thor’s place as in his own house or living in the Avengers tower, but I’m going to set it after Civil War, (we saw Thor looking for different roommates and lets say he managed to find a place of his own. Also mentions of siding with Steve in Civil War soz if you didn’t but I feel like Thor would have sided with Steve.) and just ignore the fact it might not totally fit into the timeline of the movies but hEy I did my best I’m still struggling to accept Infinity War even though Endgame is in like two weeks.  Also sorry if this is too short, I’m trying to overcome writer’s block!

 “You know, when you said you had your own place, I never expected it to look this good.” You said absentmindedly, leaning against Thor as you watched the TV together. Thor chuckled, and you felt it rumble through his entire being – his loud, booming voice was not restricted to speaking, it radiated from his entire being.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, considering my taste in decoration seems to have exceeded your expectations.” Thor grinned at you, moving his arm so that it rested on your shoulders, eyes not leaving the screen infront of the two of you. You smiled at him, eyes resting on the world outside one of Thor’s windows. It was a relatively normal day: the sun was shining, and there were only a few clouds in the sky, or so you could see from your limited point of view. You could hear the world moving as normal around you, the occasional car horn standing out amongst the usual bustle that was the citizens of America.  “I appreciate you taking the time out of your week to come and visit me, Y/N.” Thor’s voice broke you out of your train of thought, and you turned your head back to him.

“It wasn’t any trouble at all, Thor.” You grinned at him. “I’d much rather be here spending time with you than out fighting bad guys and putting my life on the line, which by the way,” You paused, shifting around on the sofa, sitting up straighter. “Is a lot more tiring when you aren’t a god or a super-soldier who doesn’t feel like they might collapse after a few hours of fighting.” You pouted as Thor let out a laugh at your rant.

“You make a good point Y/N, it is certainly much more enjoyable to spend time with someone as ruggedly handsome as me, who would obviously never let anything bad happen to a mortal such as yourself, and is much more experienced and trained in combat than our fellow Avengers.” Thor said, puffing out his chest physically, and also somehow expressing the same vibe when speaking. Loki’s energy has really been rubbing off on him, you thought to yourself as you shook your head, smiling. You found yourself doing that a lot more these days, especially when you were around Thor. He just seemed to have that effect on you, often reducing you to a giggling mess.

“It’s certainly nice to know that I’m appreciated for something other than my combat skills and for actually being a decent human being.” You resumed your position of resting against Thor. It was peaceful moments like this where you forgot that Thor was a god, and heir to the throne of Asgard. He felt normal to you, sure he was a little naïve when it came to realising how this world worked, but he was a genuinely kind and gentle person. You’d watched him grow as a person since you first met him when the Avengers initiative was finalised and launched, maturing over the years and realising that the Avengers never saw him as a Prince, but as one of their own and a relatively normal person. You’d also seen him grow as a so called ‘superhero’, growing used to handling his power in different ways and saving the world multiple times. When you heard about how he saved the world against the Dark Elves you couldn’t believe that it was Thor who had done it. Well, you could believe it but a few years ago, the Thor that you knew then wouldn’t have risked so much to save your world.

And hey, if in the time you’d known Thor you’d developed a slight crush on him, who was to judge you? And more importantly, who was to know? You’d never told anyone how you felt towards Thor, although the only person who you thought would know anything about your emotions and what went on inside your head was Wanda, as you’d felt the extent of her powers when you all first encountered her and her brother. The battle of Ultron really gave you some time to reflect on whether you wanted to remain a member of the Avengers, and unsurprisingly, it had been Thor who had reasoned with you and asked you to stay. But then not too soon after you’d made your decision, he’d told you all in one last meeting with some newer recruits that he had to leave to return to Asgard, and to explore parts of the universe to recover things he called ‘infinity stones’. That had almost broken you, losing one of the people you cared most about in the world – well, worlds. So while you’d stayed with the Avengers back on earth, and fought off more bad guys than you could count, there had always been a Thor-shaped hole in your heart, and for a while it had been hard not seeing him every day around the new compound, but you’d made friends with the newer members; Sam, Wanda and Vision.

Then, the Avengers split up. They straight up, boy-band, split up. Like how the Beatles split up, and how One Direction (it still hurts) split up. You’d sided with Steve and met up with Clint again and a new guy called Scott Lang. You’d never felt worse when facing your old team-mates, but you wouldn’t be free if you sided with Tony and signed that damn agreement. It might even have prevented Thor from re-joining the group when he came back. It wasn’t a proper fight – nobody wanted to seriously hurt anyone else, (except maybe T’Challa when it came to fighting Bucky) and when Steve and Bucky made it away from Tony and the reason that the fight had started, the rest of the team had to face the consequences of their actions. That had to have been one of the worst moments of your life, the time you all spent in those cells. It hadn’t helped when Tony came by to visit, and even when he tried to help, you still weren’t sure about him anymore. He’d changed.

Fast forward a few weeks, and you found yourself on the run from the government, accompanied by Steve, Sam and Natasha. You travelled from hotel to hotel, never using the same name when booking rooms, and you and Natasha had had to dye your hair to try and keep your real identities secret. Hey, it had worked so far. You’d run into Thor a couple of weeks ago in a library, and almost had a heart attack upon seeing him. He hadn’t recognised you at first, but as soon as you spoke his face had lit up, and he’d pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. You’d explained your situation to him, and while he seemed to think that the whole event was completely ridiculous and simultaneously offended that you hadn’t thought to invite him along to the fight, he appreciated that you had to lie low for a while, so the two of you couldn’t meet up in public.

So, today was the first day in a long time that you had been able to truly relax, and you immediately got in contact with Thor, because if anyone can make you feel relaxed and safe, Thor can. Bringing yourself out of your memories, you saw that the movie you two had been half-heartedly watching had ended, and the credits were rolling. Without speaking, you reached over Thor, picking up the remote and clicking through the vast selection of movies that Netflix supplied, and once finding a movie the two of you wanted, you pressed play, and set the remote on the coffee table infront of you, and resumed your position against Thor.

“Thanks for letting me stay here today.” You said quietly, only half-focusing on the movie, half-focusing on the literal god sitting next to you. Thor’s hand shifted from resting on your shoulder, and brushed a few shorter strands of hair away from your face, and gently ran his fingers through your hair in a soothing motion. He didn’t reply, simply letting out a long breath, acknowledging your thanks silently. You abandoned trying to focus on the TV, and let your eyes roam over Thor, from his long, blonde hair down to Mjolnir, which was resting on the sofa on the other side of Thor. As you gazed at him, you felt your cheeks flush, as your emotions decided that now would be a great time to express your affections towards Thor.

As if you had spoken aloud, Thor turned his head to look at you, and his gaze softened as his eyes roamed over your face. “You know, my father used to tell me that humans were ugly beings, and were never worth our time.” Thor rumbled, and you sat up abruptly, eyebrows raised, feeling rather offended. I mean sure, you weren’t the prettiest and most good-looking person in the world but now that’s just plain rude. Realising what he said might have come off a bit too harsh and not at all like it had sounded in his head, Thor hurried to correct himself. “And while I did believe him when I was younger, my personal opinions have changed quite drastically.” He shifted, pulling you closer. “You changed my mind, Y/N.” His usual smile graced his features, and for you, it lit up the whole room. “I’ve never met anyone so beautiful, and if I could, I would give you all of my free time, because you are worth all the time in the world.” During his speech, the distance between the two of you had lessened.

“Thor,” You breathed, face even redder than before. “I-I don’t…” You couldn’t find the words to express your reaction to his words, but he seemed to understand what you meant. He rested one of his large hands on your cheek, tilting your head up and simultaneously leaning down towards you. You were so close that if you leant forwards the slightest bit, the two of you would be kissing, and lord knows when you’d stop.

Just as you were about to close the gap between the both of you, your phone decided to say a big ‘fuck you’ and let out the harsh sound of your ringtone. You stayed where you were for a few seconds, and when your phone didn’t stop ringing, you let out a loud groan of annoyance, and heaved yourself off the sofa, grabbing your phone.

“Hello?” You answered, a bit more rudely than you probably should have, considering you didn’t check who had called you.

“Y/N? Is this a bad time?” Steve’s voice rang through the phone and you mentally hit yourself multiple times. “Only something’s come up, and if you aren’t busy we could really use your help.”

“Oh…no, its not a bad time at all,” You answered sheepishly, on full alert now. “I’m…” You looked around at Thor, who was watching you with an affectionate expression plastered across his face. “Hanging out with a friend, what’s up? Let me know where you are and I can probably come and find you guys.” You mouthed ‘It’s Steve, I have to go.” at Thor, hopping around ungracefully on one foot as you struggled to pull your shoe on. Thor frowned slightly, and turned to look outside. You followed his gaze, and no sooner than you did, the bright blue sky began to turn a dark grey, and the rumble of thunder echoed across the sky. You sighed as Thor turned around again, a cheeky twinkle in his eyes as you bit your lip. “Actually, Steve, it’s not looking too great out there and I don’t want to risk getting in an accident trying to get to you guys…and you know I have a thing about getting wet.” Steve sighed on the other end of the phone, but didn’t seem too bothered about you not coming, and you hung up the phone.

“Thor, that could have been an important mission…” You reprimanded half-heartedly, because who could be truly mad at Thor?

“If it was that important, you would have left anyways.” Thor said truthfully, and you knew he was right. Besides, you weren’t complaining that you got to spend an extra few hours with him. You grinned, pulling off the one shoe you’d managed to get on correctly, and resumed your position on the sofa next to him, and you felt your heart flutter as he placed one of his arms around you once more.

#thor x reader #thor odinson #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #reader insert

[darks-ink]

Play Your Part 5

Chapter 5: Not Only Will I Soar Again

I am Very Boldly posting this chapter with linebreaks and readmores and praying it doesn’t turn out like the last one. And if it does, well... Tumblr let me edit back the readmore today so it won’t be messed up forever, anyway.

[first] [previous] [next] [AO3] [FFnet]

Danny’s eyes watered as he reached out. One hand, shaky with emotion, made contact with the picture. Ultimate proof that it was… that this was real.

“Is-- Is that--”

“A ghost core?” Tucker grinned wider. “That’s exactly what it is, yeah.”

“But then…” Danny frowned, one hand still on the core on the photo, the other reaching for his chest. “Why isn’t it… working, then? If I have the core, why don’t I have the powers?”

“Well, we can’t know for sure, of course, but…” Jazz placed one finger on the photograph as well, tapping the core. “This isn’t an active ghost core. We have pictures of Danny’s, and of a few regular ghosts, and this one looks even less active than Danny’s when he’s in human form.”

“Oh.” One hand still rested on his chest, as if he could feel the core’s hum now that he knew it existed. “How? Why?”

“We already figured that you lost your powers because you purged your ectoplasmic contamination, right?” Jazz shrugged, gently pulling the photograph out of his hand. “In doing so you must’ve run your core out of ectoplasm, forcing it into some sort of hibernation. I think, if we can carefully feed it ectoplasm again, that it might activate again.”

“And that’ll get me my powers again?” Danny brightened up slightly, hope unfurling in his chest. It sounded… it all sounded very possible. Would it just be that easy?

“Well, probably. Like I said, we can’t know until we try.” Jazz sighed, placing the photo on the table Danny was sitting on. “At least I know a good way to get you ectoplasm in a somewhat safe manner.”

“Oh lord, Jazz, you want him to eat--” Tucker made a disgusted face, pretending to vomit. It wasn’t very encouraging, to be honest.

“Oh grow up.” She shoved the boy, turning to Sam, who looked far more steady. “Sam, can you go fetch some of the leftovers in the fridge? You know how to recognize the right ones, yeah?”

“If they try to bite me they’re good.” Sam nodded, turning around like she hadn’t just said that food might actively attack her, hello? What the hell was going on here?

Danny cleared his throat, drawing Jazz’ attention back to him. “What’s, uh. What this ‘safe manner’ of ectoplasm consumption?”

“Well, it’s.” She blushed, twirling a strand of hair as she tried to find the right words. “Uh, you know how in this universe, our parents are ghost hunters?”

“Uh huh,” he said, slowly.

“And ghosts are made out of ectoplasm. Which means that for their inventions, they do a lot of experiments with said ectoplasm, including ways to use this to make food faster?”

“Oh.” He still didn’t understand where she was going with this.

Jazz opened her mouth to explain further, but a strange hissing sounded by the stairs, and Danny twisted to look at that instead. Sam was coming down, her arms full of various plastic containers, some of which were duct-taped shut.

“Got the leftovers you asked for. Is the malevolence directly related to how heavily contaminated they are?”

“I think so.” Jazz shrugged, releasing her hair. “Not sure. Mom and Dad never really looked into it much.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Danny waved his hands around, drawing the attention of everyone else back to him. He ignored the jostling of the plastic bins for the moment. “You want me to eat… contaminated food? Living food?”

“Well, it’s not living, technically.” Jazz wiggled her hand a little, making a so-so motion. “They’re kind of… reanimated, I guess? We’re starting off slow, with the stuff that just glows. Anything that moves we’ll re-cook first.”

“Like the weenies,” Tucker added helpfully, taking one especially violent container from Sam. The duct-tape on it seemed to strain to hold it closed, and through the plastic Danny could see sausage-like shapes bouncing around. “These are definitely some of the worst in the fridge.”

“Yeah, and the fact that they’ve been in there for months hasn’t helped.” Sam shook her head, moving over to the table to put down the other stuff. “Anyway, don’t worry about it, Danny. Our Danny can eat this stuff just fine, and so can any ordinary ghost. We’re not giving it to you until we’re sure you’ve got enough ghost in you to do the same.”

“Oh. Um.” He looked at the boxes that now shifted over the table, driven by the force of their contents. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t thank us until it works, man.” Tucker placed his one container on the table as well. When it immediately threatened to throw itself off again, he placed a heavy-looking invention on top of it. “Seriously, if we make you eat this stuff and it doesn’t work you’ll hate us.”

“Tucker, stop discouraging him,” Jazz scolded, picking up one of the containers that lacked duct-tape. “Danny, it’ll be fine. Mom and Dad and I have eaten this stuff on multiple occasions, and you’re supposed to have this stuff in your body. Do you really think I would be giving this to you if I thought it would be a problem?”

“No,” he said, “but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried feeding me something weird as a big sister prank.”

Jazz made a face, then nodded. “Ah, I guess that that’s fair.” She opened one box, showing its contents to him. “How do you feel about starting with these mildly glowing carrots?”

Bad, he wanted to say.

“I guess they’re… okay?” he said instead, taking the bin from her. They did, indeed, look like regular carrots. Y’know, if carrots came in ecto-green and glowed. “Do I… have to?”

“You can try the Portal too, if you prefer that,” Sam suggested, leaning against the table. “Get it over with in one quick swoop.”

Danny made a face, then shoved one baby carrot into his mouth. The moment he bit down he pulled a face. It tasted like what he imaged raw ectoplasm might taste like; copper and rusted pennies and something like lemons? Except it still had a mild taste of carrot, and its texture was mostly carrot-like. Mostly, because it was just a little goopy on the inside.

He slapped his free hand over his mouth, trying to push away his desire to puke. Come on Danny, just bite through it!

Swallowing, he made another grimacing face at the others.

“Ah, come on, they’re not that bad.” Jazz clicked her tongue, shaking her head disapprovingly. “How is it that you guys in the halfa-universe are less used to eating ectoplasm infused food, huh? Am I the only one wondering about that?”

“No, I was too,” Sam admitted, looking far too amused for Danny’s liking. “And I bet our Danny is, too. He’ll definitely be enjoying the break where he doesn’t have to worry about his lunch coming to life.”

Danny sighed, placing the carrots down again. “Can I try something else? Maybe that’ll be better.”

Tucker snorted disbelievingly, but to his credit, did push one of the other boxes towards Danny. “Here, I think this one is just glowing toast.”

“Ugh, toast.” He pulled off the lid, revealing, indeed, several slices of ecto-green toast. “Well, can’t be worse than regular toast, right?”

He took a bite of one of the slices. Wow, hey, that’s actually worse than regular toast, who would’ve thought? Again that taste of copper and lemons and sour metal, although the inside wasn’t quite as soft as with the carrots. Just felt like untoasted bread instead of goop.

“Well?” Tucker asked, a grin on his face again. “Better or worse?”

“Better than the carrots,” Danny said as he swallowed the bite. “And honestly? Not much worse than regular toast.”

“You want jam or something with that?” Sam asked, turning one of the slices in her hand as she looked it over. “That might mask the taste a little.”

“Hm, maybe.” He took another bite, trying to chew it away quickly. “Egh, yeah, let’s give that a shot if you’ve got some.”

“I’ll go look,” Jazz said, ruffling his hair as she passed him by. “Sam, Tucker, stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Tucker gasped dramatically. “We would never!”

Danny shot him an unimpressed look as he chewed away another bite of sour toast. “You two literally tried to zap me with a giant ghost portal while she was away.”

“Don’t get involved, Fenton.” Tucker swung a finger in his direction. “Eat your toast and shut up.”

“Yes sir.” He took another bite of the toast. Against all expectations, he was actually kind of getting used to the taste of ectoplasm-infused food. It felt kind of warm in his throat, like it was melting as he chewed it away.

He’d finished his first slice of toast when Jazz reappeared downstairs, carrying a few types of jam and some margarine. “Wasn’t sure what would go best with, uh, ectoplasm,” she said, blushing a little. “What do you want to try first?”

“Margarine, I guess?” He shrugged, picking up a new slice of toast to butter it. “I think I just had to get used to the toast, anyway. It’s not too bad anymore. Kind of nice, actually? Warm and melty.”

Jazz frowned, sharing a glance with Sam and Tucker. “Warm? Ectoplasm is cold and goopy, usually.”

“Oh.” Danny took a bite of his still-unbuttered toast, tasting it carefully. “No, it definitely tastes warm. Like, pleasant warm, like honey?”

“Maybe that’s what it tastes like for half-ghosts?” Tucker suggested, his brow creased in consideration. “They are made out of the stuff, so of course it wouldn’t feel cold to them.”

“Does that mean it’s working?” Danny asked as he started buttering the toast. The taste of lemon and metal hadn’t gone away entirely, and he wasn’t too hot on it still. “If I just keep eating enough toast, that’ll fix my core? It’s really just that easy?”

“I mean, you’ll probably have to move on to something stronger eventually.” Sam tapped on one of the taped boxes, ignoring the way it jerked in response. “Danny has a lot of ectoplasm in his body, usually. If you want to recover all of that in a short time, you’ll need to eat more ectoplasm and less actual food. There’s only so much food you can eat before you’re full, after all.”

“Right.” He took a bite of buttered toast. Not bad, actually. The butter definitely offset the sourness, even if wasn’t entirely functional against the taste of copper. “So when should I switch, if the higher amounts could be dangerous?”

“Finish off all the toast first, then we’ll see.” Jazz looked distastefully at the weenie-container, which seemed to be trying to throw off the heavy weight that pinned it down. “Honestly, we might try roasting the weenies. They’re definitely the highest in ectoplasm to food ratio, and they won’t fill much either way.”

Danny eyed the box suspiciously. Then, rather than speak up about the fact that these hot dogs might just be the most dangerous thing in the lab, he took another bite of toast.

“We, uh, should probably get them roasting sooner than later, then.” Tucker leaned down next to the box, his frown deepening. “I think that they’re trying to chew through the plastic.”

“Do you think the Thermos would work on them?” Sam asked, her tone light as if this was perfectly normal. “Or are they not ghostly enough?”

“That might just suck out all the ectoplasm and leave behind the weenies.” Jazz sighed, stepping away to dig through some equipment. “If they break out, just trap them in something metal. Or, like, trap them in a box with something else and let that distract them. I’ll look for something moderately safe to cook them with.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tucker declared cheerfully, frown gone again. He picked up a larger plastic bin, opening it and peeking inside. “Ah, non-sentient ham. That should keep them occupied if they break out.”

Sam sighed and shook her head, but didn’t comment. Danny shoved another piece of toast inside his mouth. If she didn’t want to comment, neither did he.

But, really. How was this world so much crazier than his own world? Is this what their planet would be like if it was ruled by humans instead of half-ghosts? Crazy. Maybe they really were still out there somewhere, surviving unseen thanks to their sheer insanity.

“Well, so, most of the stuff I found I wouldn’t trust around food,” Jazz said plainly as she rejoined them. In one hand she held a metal pot, the inside stained a suspicious mix of green and black. The other, she held behind her back. “I wouldn’t worry about the ectoplasm on this, except that it seems to be burned to hell and back, and I don’t think the charcoal will be any good. And I don’t trust the bunsen burners with this, either.”

She placed the burned pan on a nearby table, then swung the object in her other hand around to her front, using her other hand to hold it up as well. It looked like a weapon, but not any Danny was familiar with. Sci-fi esque, silver with glowing green accents. Round and shiny, like a cylinder with another cylinder on top. This, at least, looked kind of like the water containers on a water gun. The vivid green really just kind of reinforced this appearance.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with that one.” Sam stepped closer, twisting her head to look at the weapon. “What is it? A flamethrower?”

“Yep,” she simply said, placing it in Sam’s arms. “Here you go, I’m pretty sure you’re the best shot of all of us.”

“Tuck’s pretty good too, and you’re not too shabby either.” But as she said this, Sam shifted the flamethrower in her arms, gripping it properly. She grinned like she was absolutely loving this. God, humans were scary. Danny was faintly sorry that he had ever felt lesser for thinking he was human if they were all like this.

Rather than get involved, he took another bite of toast and jumped off of the table. He could watch the proceedings from somewhere further away, he was sure.

Tucker lifted the machine off of the bin that contained the hot dogs, pinning the box down with his own strength instead. “I’ll count down and then dump them on the table. Got it?”

Sam, grin widening, nodded. “Got it.” She turned to gun onto Tucker, holding it steady with one finger already on the trigger. “On 3?”

“I was thinking on fire, actually.” Tucker nodded back, licked his lips, then started counting. “3. 2.”

“1,” the both of them counted in sync, muscles bunching as they got ready.

“Fire!” Tucker shouted, peeling the container open and spilling the contents onto the table, then stepping back in the same swift motion.

The hot dogs seemed thrown off by the sudden movement, sitting dazedly on the metal tabletop a long moment. They were ecto-green, glowing, and they seemed to have… eyes and pointed teeth? Yikes.

On the shout Sam had pulled the trigger, and bright flames spilled from the gun. Despite his expectations, they weren’t pure green; pink was scattered throughout the flames, and the inner column was white-hot.

The reanimated meat screeched when the flames reached them, but they were quickly silenced under the steady fire.

An unmeasurably long moment later, Sam cut off the flames. Jazz stepped forward to inspect the results, expression carefully blank. Then she smiled, expression lighting up. “Looks good to me! I think we can finally put the Frankenweenies to use.”

“Frankenweenies?” Danny repeated incredulously, swallowing his last bite of toast. “Really?”

Jazz hummed. When she turned back to him, she was holding one of the hot dogs pinched between her fingers. The flames hadn’t lessened its glow, but they had turned it into a darker green. The eyes and mouth seemed to have somehow disappeared entirely. “What do you think? Does it look appealing?”

“No,” Danny said honestly, taking it from her. “But neither did the toast.”

He took a bite, chewing it experimentally. The skin was like… not like a hot dog, but more like a regular sausage? Somewhat tough, a little chewy, but not in a bad way. The inside was soft and warm and gooey, and actually kinda sweet. Like it was filled with honey.

“That’s… pretty good, actually,” he said when he swallowed it. “I mean, I don’t think it beats actual food, especially since the green is a real deterrent, but…”

“What, the glow is fine with you?” Sam scoffed, but the smile on her face didn’t leave. “Priorities, Danny.”

“Eh, the glow isn’t too out of place where I’m from.” Danny shrugged, taking another bite of the hot dog and swallowing it. “With all the half-ghosts and stuff. My parents, especially Mom, they use telekinesis pretty often, so stuff often glows in and around the house.”

“That’s fair,” Sam decided, nodding approvingly. Her fingers drummed on the barrel of the flamethrower. “Hey Jazz, do you want this thing back or can I keep it?”

“If you get in trouble for having it I’m not taking responsibility.” Jazz crossed her arms, twisting to look at Sam. “My parents will just blame its disappearance on a ghost anyway.”

“Nice.” Sam flipped a switch on the side, and the glowing elements dulled down. A safety switch, then. “I’ll find a spot for it, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Jazz said, just as Danny hiccuped. Loudly.

“Sorry,” he apologized, hiccuping again. Something in his chest rattled strangely. “I think something didn’t go down right.”

He clenched his eyes closed, dropping the half-eaten sausage back on the table. His other hand came up to claw at his chest. Something felt wrong, it hurt, it hurt--

Another hiccup, following with a thrum in his chest. He opened his eyes again, staring wide-eyed at his friends, his sister, hoping for some sort of help or advice or--

“Look!” Jazz exclaimed, enthusiastically. “See, I told you it would be fine!”

“Fine?!” Danny bit back, his voice peaking up high as a hiccup burst through the last half of the word.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Jazz gestured at him like it was an explanation. “See, and your eyes brightened even further. Must be your core.”

Tucker frowned, looking a little concerned. “Are you alright, dude? Besides the hiccuping, obviously.”

Danny groaned back, his fingers digging into his chest even more. His core? Was that what this was? Why did it-- “Why does it hurt?”

“It’s not… supposed to.” Jazz darted closer, suddenly, kneeling a little to look at his face. She pried his hand off of his chest, placing her own there instead. “Maybe it’s because it was out of energy for so long? Like when you boot up a machine after it’s been off for really long, and it sounds like it’s struggling to get functional again?”

“Or like when your muscles hurt way more if you haven’t been active in a while?” Sam suggested, tone not as jubilant anymore. “That could be it, yeah. Should we hold off and give it time to work through it, or should we try feeding it more energy?”

“I don’t know,” Jazz said, slowly. “Danny, do you think you could eat?”

“Dunno.” He huffed, feeling faintly breathless. It felt like something was burrowing in his chest, trying to shove all his organs aside to make room for itself. “Maybe.”

“Alright, that’s a no in Danny-speak.” Jazz took him by the arm, gently tugging him towards a table. “Sit down, tell us if it gets worse.”

He nodded, letting her shove him onto the table. He tried clawing at his chest again, but Jazz swatted his hand away and he gave up.

It was hard for him to tell how much time passed. For most of it, he had his eyes closed, focusing exclusively on the feeling in his chest. As the pain receded, he started to feel his core more clearly. It was pulsing, thrilling and humming in his chest. Like a heart, but also… not? It was clearly trying to drag in energy, awake but not… not satisfied, he didn’t think.

Once it felt as stable as it would get, he opened his eyes again, looking at his best friends as his sister. “It, uh. I think it’s done. But I don’t think that it has all the power it needs, still.”

Jazz nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Didn’t think so. But we got it enough energy to wake up, so if it’s functional we can try feeding ectoplasm straight to your ghost form.” She started, looking at him somewhat guiltily. “If you’re okay with that, of course.”

“I mean… sure? Assuming that I can shift right now.” He shrugged, then settled one hand on the back of his neck to rub it.

“Do your parents have some of that Ecto-Dejecto still?” Sam asked, turning towards Jazz. “Danny uses it sometimes when he’s really really out of energy, but I think he stockpiles it all in his walls.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” Jazz perked up, gesturing at one of the nearby drawers. “I think they have some in there?”

Sam hummed, moving to search it. “Worst come to worst, we can try having Danny search through his own walls. If, uh, he can maintain that kind of intangibility, that is.”

He made a face, not that she could see. “Yeah, let’s not risk that.”

“Oh, wait, here it is already.” Sam straightened up, a tube of unnaturally bright ectoplasm in her hand. “We just need a needle, and for Danny to shift into his ghost form.”

“At least we won’t have to fight with his sleeve this time,” Tucker joked, nudging Danny. “Did you know how much of a hassle that is, to roll up the sleeves of those jumpsuits? Absolutely awful.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind?” He tried mentally poking his core. How were you supposed to shift to your ghost form, anyway? He thought he was doing it right, but he had no way of knowing whether he was doing it wrong, or if his core just didn’t have enough energy. “When should I shift?”

“Now’s fine,” Sam said, reappearing with a worryingly large syringe. It was filled with the same fake ectoplasm as the vial before. The ‘Ecto-Dejecto’, presumably. “We’re ready if you are.”

“Oh, joy,” he muttered, stirring his core more forcibly. He tried to encourage it, tried to picture himself as the photos he’d seen of Phantom. Tried to goad it with the lure of more energy.

Then, suddenly, it was like lightning crackled through him. Pure energy burst forth, sparking through his flesh and his skin but not hurting him. It formed a ring, bright and luminescent, and Danny felt like he could cry.

As with everyone else, with every shift he’d ever witnessed, the ring split into two. Twin halos of pure light danced over his body, inverting the colors everywhere they passed, until he was left in his black shirt and with white hair hanging down in his eyes.

“Arm,” Sam immediately commanded, like she hadn’t just witnessed something incredible and life-changing. When he didn’t respond, Jazz grabbed it and pulled it towards Sam for him.

He was so occupied with, well, everything, that he didn’t even notice the needle until its contents were being pushed into his body. It wasn’t even cold, not really. Just… weird? Very energetic. His core thrilled, immediately pulling in the energy provided.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, feeling the pulse of power throughout his entire body. His core hummed so loud that he wondered if everyone else could hear it, too, like the purr of a cat. “That’s… holy shit.”

“Sounds like it worked,” Tucker commented dryly, not even bothering to hide his smile. “Feeling good, ghost boy?”

“Yeah,” he answered, breathlessly. “Yeah, wow. It’s like… Like this weight in my chest is gone, suddenly. Like I’ve been dragging around my core this whole time, like a ball and chain, and finally I’m free.”

“How poetic.” Sam grinned, nudging him playfully. “Want to take your powers for a spin?”

“In the lab?” he asked, already pushing off of the table. “Are you sure?”

“We train Danny’s powers here all the time,” Tucker said dismissively, flapping a hand. “And it’ll be safer here than outside.”

“Fair enough.” He bounced a little on the ground, feeling lighter than usual. He wondered how floating worked. Didn’t it come naturally to--

“Oh.” He flipped in the air, maneuvering like he’s been doing it his whole life. “Wow, that’s really fun. Now I get why everyone’s always flying everywhere.”

“I guess I should’ve seen that coming.” Jazz grinned at him. “Danny’s favorite power is flight, too.”

“I can’t blame him!” Danny exclaimed, flying a lap at moderate speed through the lab. “It’s so much fun!”

“Alright, well, let’s run through a few more powers. Hopefully establishing that your powers work will trigger the switch back.”

“Yeah,” Danny hummed, feeling his core pulse with happiness at the thought of showing his parents his powers, before a spike of dread stabbed through it. “Unless your Danny has something he needs to achieve, too.”

Danny’s eyes watered as he reached out. One hand, shaky with emotion, wrapped around his mother’s wrist. “Wait.”

“Yes, sweetie?” She crouched down in front of him, smiling softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what, kiddo?” His dad frowned as he, too, crouched by Danny.

“I…” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all so nice.”

“Of course they are,” Jazz said, voice carefully blank. “They’re our parents. When have they ever not been nice?”

“That’s complicated,” he muttered back through his fingers. They’d never meant to be mean towards him, of course, but… but they’d uttered plenty of insults and threats towards Phantom. And that was… it was just hard to ignore, especially when faced with such complete and utter acceptance.

A silence fell, and Danny got the feeling that his parents and sister were sharing confused glances.

“What do you mean, son?” his dad finally asked, uncertainly. “We’ve always tried…”

I know.” He dragged his hands off of his face to shoot them a look that hopefully expressed how lost he felt. “You’ve been nothing but nice, I know. But you’re not-- I am not--” He groaned again, now in frustration at himself and his trouble to put his feelings into words.

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you Danny?”

“Is he what?” his mom asked, at the same time that he shook his head. While she snapped her jaw shut, he corrected himself by nodding, then made a so-so motion with his hand.

“I’m Danny Fenton,” he finally said, giving up on his attempt at miming out an answer. “But I’m not… your Danny.”

“Oh,” both of his parents chimed, perfectly synced.

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand through his eyes, wiping away the half-formed tears. “I’m… yeah. It’s, um. Complicated, I guess.”

“How?” His mom reached for him, twisting his head like she could suddenly see differences that didn’t exist before. “Why? What happened to our Danny?”

“I… I don’t know. I really really don’t know,” he admitted, much as it pained him. “I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t understand it. Usually if I get brought to a different timeline I’m told why, what I’m supposed to do. Not…” he gestured vaguely. “Not this.”

“And our son?” his mom repeated. “What about him?”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Danny dragged his hand through his hair, mussing the black locks up beyond their normal mess. “Sam and Tucker and Jazz will take care of him. They’re good at that kinda stuff. They’ll catch on quickly, I bet.”

“That’s good.” His mom – this version of her – patted him on the arm. Her expression was hard to read, though. “Now, what was this about your parents, sweetie?”

“I, um.” He blushed, licked his lips. “It’s. Complicated. Like I said. They don’t… they don’t mean it, they’re nice, but it’s…”

He hummed, looking at his hands in his lap. “You know how you’re all half-ghosts, and so am I?”

“Yes?” His mom frowned a little, shooting a short glance towards Jack. “Is that not… Is that a problem, back home?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, because I never told them.” He blew out a breath, the confession making him feel lighter. Not much, but, well. A little. “It’s… You know how you’re human hunters, here? Well, my parents, they hunt ghosts.”

“Oh,” his dad said on his other side, voice low and quiet.

“Yeah.” Danny sighed, thumbs twirling. “They, um. They’ve seen me in my ghost form, but they didn’t know it was me. I’m the only half-ghost in town, so I… fight the other ghosts? To protect the town. But they don’t see it like that. They just see an aggressive ghost causing trouble.”

“They hurt you,” Jazz stated, her voice clearly forced into neutrality to cover up her emotions. “Right? They’ve hurt you, but they didn’t know it was you because you never told them. And they don’t think of the similarities, because they don’t think half-ghosts can exist.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, you nailed it. They’ve, uh. Made something of a habit out of threatening and insulting ‘Phantom’ around me and Jazz. They work on their inventions in the lab and in the kitchen, and they keep going off near me, and one day--” He snapped his mouth shut, shaking off the thought.

“And you’re afraid that one day it’ll go wrong.” Light flashed as Maddie shifted back to her human form without moving. Her hand, laying on Danny’s, became marginally warmer. “You’re afraid of your parents, because they don’t know that their prey and their son are the same person.”

Danny nodded, listlessly.

“Can I offer some advice?” Jazz asked, her hand on his knee. She continued before he got a chance to answer. “Tell them.”

“What?” he frowned at her.

“Tell them,” Jazz repeated, looking from him to their parents. “You’re afraid because they don’t know that you’re half-ghost. So tell them.”

“But they-- They hate ghosts.” He gestured with his free hand, leaving the one with Maddie’s hand on it. “They hate ghosts with such fervor that they’ve dedicated their life to getting rid of every single one of them!”

“Danny.” His dad caught his free hand, gently placing it down and pinning it with his own warm hand. At some point he, too, had shifted back to human form. “Danny, I don’t know how different your version of me is, but I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty. The most important thing in my life, always and ever, is my family. And that includes my son, human or ghost or half-ghost.”

“Oh,” he said, soundlessly. “But--”

“What about your sister?” his mother asked, suddenly, cocking her head at him. “You said that she would help, and Sam and Tucker. Does she know?”

“Uh…” Danny twitched at the non-sequitur. “Yeah? I mean, I didn’t tell her, but she figured it out on her own.”

“And she hasn’t recommended that you tell your parents?” this Jazz asked, brow quirked. “She didn’t comment on the secret-keeping, on the damage it could do?”

“I, well…” he sighed, letting his head hang. “She did, actually. But she’s… big on letting me tell people at my own pace. And she’s heard the vitriol my parents spit, so…”

“So she should’ve encouraged you to tell them,” Jazz insisted, more forcefully. “Danny, you need your family. You can’t hide this. Do you really think that they haven’t noticed that something changed, that their relationship somehow got damaged and they don’t even know what happened?”

“I… oh.” He looked at his hands, both covered by his parents’ hands. “I hadn’t… thought about that.”

Maddie sighed. “And I guess I didn’t think about how we might’ve done something similar to our Danny, insisting that he had to be half-ghost as well.”

“Well, how about this, then,” Danny said, trying to summon his bravery a little. He could, at least, help this other version of himself, right? That’s what heroes did, and he was a hero. “You tell him that you love him, that you accept him, half-ghost or not, and I’ll tell my parents.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” his dad boomed, his characteristic grin finally reappearing. His free hand clapped on Danny’s back. “Now we just need to figure out how to get you back!”

Danny opened his mouth to reply, but halted as a pulse of energy ripped through the atmosphere. He couldn’t tell where it came from, just felt the pure power hum--

White light blinded him, energy ripping at his body, he didn’t know what was happening, and--

Then, blissfully, he passed out.

#danny phantom #phanfic #dp fanfic #fanfiction #danny fenton #dark writes #play your part #if this posts without a readmore again i will break something #i dont Trust this website anymore lmao im definitely gonna do something different for weirdward

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

ASM vol 5 #10/811 Thoughts

I suspect I’m gonna be a bit more down on the issue than everyone else!

 Fundamentally the things that put my feelings into conflict with this story are how the past of the characters should be reconciled against the needs of the present.

 What do I mean by this?

 Well in this issue we have Peter being chill with Black Cat and also MJ claiming that for the longest time she couldn’t handle worrying about Peter and this would lead to a cycle of them breaking up and getting back together, and she also felt she was not on his level that she was dispensable and that maybe he should be with someone else. These pieces of dialogue are accompanied by images clearly evoking marriage era MJ which allegedly post-OMD still happened but they were not married.

 If you go by recent history Peter should just not be this chill with Felicia. She is literally a burglar and he was willing to let her walk away which wasn’t his origin entirely about how doing that once killed his uncle? This isn’t even getting into her body count during her Queenpin tenure. I now they provide a sort of fix for that but my point was before that fix happened in the story he was clearly still chill with her and that is BS.

 If you go by the wider history of Peter and MJ her statements do not really add up. Even in the 1990s MJ didn’t literally spend all her time worrying about Peter (she went out partying in Torment for example) and both back then and even before they married she clearly could handle his life, just not handle it in a wholly stressfree manner (because nobody could do that). The idea that this inability to handle his life, specifically the fact that she worried constantly about him, was the reason they’d break up before getting back together is also not true.

 If you even include their break up under Marv Wolfman’s run MJ broke up with Peter the first time mostly due to her commitment issues. The second time they sort of broke up was in Spider-Man vs. Wolverine where there was a miscommunication problem but that was also due to her commitment issues a little bit. However it is obvious Spencer wasn’t referring to that stuff but the stuff during their marriage and during their marriage (I know they weren’t married now but you know what I mean, I’m just using ‘marriage’ as shorthand) they broke up just twice.

 The first time was during Mackie/Byrne’s run and it wasn’t because MJ worried too much about Peter it was because she felt dispensible to him, that she didn’t really matter in his life, that he did not in truth need her and that he didn’t in effect love her much more than he would have loved a mistress or a trophy wife. The second time was in OMIT where they broke up over MJ feeling like being with Peter endangered her family too much. Granted that last one was indeed about not being able to handle his life but it wasn’t about concern for him or even herself as the issue implied. Moreover multiple times during the marriage, in fact very specifically during the issue they reunited under JMS it was made clear to MJ that she WAS indispensible and that Peter truly needed her. He said as much even in Spencer’s debut issue (if you discount the FCBD issue of course).

 All of which means MJ’s statements don’t really ring true to her character or her shared history with Peter. She knows she doesn’t need to be a part of his world to matter. Now I say all that with the caveat that you can of course explain away the discrepancy to a degree. Perhaps in this one moment out of nervousness, or the chance to FINALLY unload her feelings, the sake of brevity and/or some combination of those things MJ is misremembering things.

 There were periods where she found coping with Peter’s life very hard, and they did break up. And perhaps in seeing him with Black Cat and Mockingbird feelings of inadequacy crossed her mind and in this moment all those things are mingling together coalescing into her not truly accurate account of their relationship.* Equally her presenting their relationship as a constant merry go round of breaking up and making up could be her conflating the entirety of their relationship before and after their marriage, including all of Slott’s dumbass teases of them getting back together (and the Superior stuff too). Remember in-universe all the stuff she is talking about played out across several years and their break up depicted in OMIT was several years ago circa this issue (Superior alone played out across 1 year in-universe).

 So there are totally ways of explaining this in-universe, even if there aren’t any for why Peter was so chill with Felicia.

 However this is where we get into the ‘needs of the present’ as I discussed above.

 Because it is plainly obvious to me that Spencer with this story was doing yet more clean up of BND and Slott’s mess more than trying to religiously fit everything into continuity.

 Spencer has done much already to fix things but there is still much that is broken, so much like JMS I think we need to say its okay for him to bend certain bits of characterization in service of over all setting the ship back on course and cleaning up the mess he inherited.

 As I said JMS did this too. To be incredibly harsh right now the fact that Peter and MJ were stayed broken up as long as they did under the JMS run really wasn’t in character for either of them.**

 However his genius game plan was to course correct the series over all and do that by illuminating just WHY their relationship was so important and he did that by examining their feelings about NOT being together and making a story about them working to get back together.

 It was a neccesarry direction to go in as it conveyed to readers on a meta level WHY them being together was a good thing and why it was in fact vitally important to the lead character and over all series.

 Spencer in this story I think was doing something similar.

 On a meta level he essentially connected Felicia losing her memory of who Spider-Man was, of what their relationship was like WITH her mischaracterization since OMD. Which works in-universe perfectly fine but along with Peter’s chill attitude to her it was set up for his big fix of her re-learning his secret and essentially going back to (starting to go back to) what she used to be like and what she always should have been like.

 After all it NEVER made sense for Peter to have kept her in the dark at all so bending his characterization by ignoring her recent activities is equivalent to how he ignored the baggage from post-OMD to just immediately get Peter and MJ reunited.*** Although he again here provides a short yet solid explanation even for that just to address everyone who really was annoyed by Slott’s BS characterization being ignored.

 With the MJ thing I think that storyline existed more for Spencer through MJ to essentially address readers’ (especially recent readers’) beliefs surrounding the character and her relationship with Spider-Man. It was essentially post-OMD MJ bringing up common arguments raised against her being with Spider-Man by editorial and characters within the comics (including her from Slott and other author’s stories) and then through the story debunking them. In this way using Black Cat, Spider-Man’s most famous super hero girlfriend (and sometimes romantic rival to MJ) as a representative of every potential argument in favour of Spider-Man not being with a civilian like her was simply genius.

 It was Spencer writing on a level Slott never did, weaving these disparate plots together organically to deliver a statement on the characters, who are the reason we are reading this after all.

 So that is where I am at with the story.

 Trying to reconcile the technical mischaracetrization with that mischaracterization being in over all service of fixing the decades long mischaracterization and misconceptions of the characters.

 I suspect with time I will be more okay with it and lean more towards the latter. I do hope though we don’t see more stuff like it though because I’d rather the marriage era be celebrated positively than negatively the way post-OMD portrayed it.

 Other points I want to hit up.

 -          Ramos seemed better this issue than in the other ones

-          There were some honestly hilarious scenes like the phone app and the reference to Spider-Man’s hyphen

-          The lack of jealousy from MJ was a nice piece of maturity and subversion of expectations from her, especially given who she was dealing with. I also adored Peter just being up front with her and clear about what went down. You know...doing the resposnsible adult thing. That’s not even great to see in Spider-Man, it’s subverting an annoying as Hell trope in countless pieces of fiction to generate cheap drama.

-          I almost feel Centipede guy is like Scarlet Spider because his costume colours were very reminiscent of Spidey’s but he also adorned a hoody

-          There was a misplaced word balloon which is...c’mon guys try to catch those obvious mistakes...

-          The cover hilarious and a great meta joke.

-          Bandini’s art was still gorgeous

-          I don’t know if all of MJ’s jobs and life prior to working for Stark (which still makes no sense) honestly could be regarded as the opposite of Spider-Man’s career strictly speaking. After all...they both earned money from posing for photos so...Maybe from her pov tha’ts just how she feels about her jobs, a little like how she felt in Unlimited vol 3 #2.

 I’d give this an A- at worst, A at best.

 Which is like...I know I brought up a lot of draw backs but look how far we’ve come in such a short space of time!

 I was honestly jealous of everyone who read this before me! That’s where I am at with modern Spider-Man and it feels good!

  *Also whilst Peter might’ve made his need for MJ explicit in issue #1 that might not have fully convinced her thereafter that maybe he’d be better off with another super person. After all he said what he said after almost dying so he might not have been thinking with a totally clear head.

However given how MJ, in two brilliant little scenes, takes Jarvis’ words of wisdom and also seems to absorb and grow past her insecurity rather quickly you could argue that said insecurity was less truly something weighing on her mind and more a wobble she was having at that moment. We all have little wobbles and moments of insecurity that do not necessarily speak to anything deepset within us.

 **It made a little more sense when JMS retconned in the reason for why MJ left Peter but he didn’t reveal that for the first ¼ of his overall run so MJ appeared to be OOC for that time.

 ***Also once Spider-Man learns Felicia’s misdemeanours are partially his fault because they are connected to her loss of memory which he caused and perpetuated then it makes his willingness to forgive her and (presumably) trust she is on a path to redemption more believable.

p.s. Flash’s death being used as the explanation for MJ and Peter’s reconciliation is a microcosm of the issues I discussed with the story.

On the one hand Flash’s death is at last acknowledged. On the other it’s lack of acknowledgement before this and presumably after this story will continue to be eye brow raising because why be so unaffected by the death of your close old friend?

But at the same time diving into the realistic ark and depressing emotions of grief that should accompany Flash’s death would compromise the necessity of fixing the broken Spider-Man series so once again, we got to ‘bend the rules’ as it were.

#Spider-Man #Amazing Spider-Man #rNick Spencer #michele bandini #Humberto Ramos #Black Cat #Felicia Hardy #The Black Cat #Peter Parker #j. michael straczynski #mjwatsonedit #Mary Jane Watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #mj watson #Dan Slott #nick spencer

[itsaudreyhornebitch]

Total Knock Out

*cheers excitedly* I'm so happy you're taking prompts! I had this idea for an AU where: Frank’s a famous boxer and Karen the sports reporter gets to interview him on live tv after his win and no one knows that they’re dating until he kisses her right before walking off for a shower (or smth) :') ♥♥

@frank-kastle

Karen looked wildly out of place—she was well aware of this fact. In truth, she’d gotten quite used to it; to sticking out like a sore thumb in a sea of inebriated, sweaty men, all yelling and jumping and carrying on like teenagers. With her pencil skirt and patent leather heels, she seemed like she belonged in a board room, not shoving past sloppy, drunk frat boys on her way to the locker room at Barclays.

In her early years working as a sports reporter for CBS NY, she had tried to blend in with the crowds: baseball cap, jersey, sneakers, jeans. She’d done the beer-in-the-hand, locker room talk, eating hot wings, ‘just one of the guys’ bit (as most female sports reporters do when they are just beginning), mostly in the hopes of gaining a little bit of respect. Of being treated like an equal, by fellow reporters and athletes alike. But she’d quickly learned that it didn’t matter how she dressed—or how competent she had proven herself to be, time and again—because as long as she had a pair of tits, respect was really out of reach. Despite her near-encyclopedic knowledge of sports history and statistics (baseball, basketball, football, boxing—you name it), she was still a woman. A tall, attractive, blonde woman; and that, apparently, outweighed every other fact about her. She was, she’d realized about a year into the job, no more than the “hot chick from CBS with the killer legs” (a direct quote from one of the players for the Mets who hadn’t realized his mic had been on).

So eventually she’d said “fuck it”—fuck all of it. Trying to dress the way she thought she should; trying to play the part of the “cool girl”; trying to appeal to the lowest common denominator, who wouldn’t even show her basic human decency. She was a professional—one who was fucking great at her job—so she was going to dress like one. Silk blouses, red lipstick, and an elegant updo. And fuck anyone who tried to demean or devalue her talents.

“Woah, woah, woah. Watch the equipment there, sport.” Foggy Nelson, who had been Karen’s camera man for the past five years, bumped into her side as he tried to avoid a man stumbling around with Frank Castle’s face on his t-shirt. “Fucking hate this part, walking through the crowds. It’s like nobody respects an expensive Hasselblad around here.” He cradled his camera close to his chest, protectively.

“Who could’ve possibly guessed that boxing fans weren’t all secretly AV equipment enthusiasts?” Karen threw over her shoulder sardonically, side-stepping a puddle of what looked suspiciously like vomit. She swatted at a hand that tried to grope her ass in passing, biting down bitter words.

“All I’m saying is that boxing matches are the worst. The crowds are always rowdier. And way drunker.” Foggy shook his head, trailing Karen in the path she was cutting through the mass of bodies. “Why couldn’t you cover something nice and mild? Like golf? Or badminton? I love badminton!”

“Because there’s no glory in being mild, Foggy.” Karen navigated them to a quiet hallway off to the side of the main lobby, slipping behind a door marked “Employees Only.” Foggy hesitated for a moment before following her—Karen always knew the back ways and secret passages in every arena and stadium they visited, though he had never asked how. Part of him liked to imagine that she spent her evenings poring over blueprints like a bank robber planning a heist. “You know the saying, Fog,” she ducked under a velvet rope clearly meant to keep people out, “no guts; no glory.”

“Yeah, but why does the guts part have to be so fucking literal?” Foggy grumbled. He hated boxing—hated it. The blood and the bruises and the teeth flying. It was all a little much for him. He preferred the quiet sports, like tennis and baseball, where the chances of someone spitting blood on the camera lens were far less likely.

Karen, on the other hand, lived for it. Had grown up watching boxing matches with her father and her brother; even took classes at the gym. So every time there was a big WBA event in need of coverage, Karen was the first to volunteer, dragging Foggy along for the ride.

And tonight’s match…well it was one for the record books.

Frank “The Punisher” Castle in a comeback match against Matt “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” Murdock. As soon as the event had been announced, pay-per-view numbers had shot through the roof. Tickets to the live show were selling for the thousands; people who didn’t care about boxing were amped for the match. Even Foggy had been less reluctant about taking on the assignment than he had been with boxing matches in the past. It was that big of a deal.

Five years ago, Frank Castle had been the name on everyone’s tongues—a pure powerhouse of a boxer who could take a hit like nobody’s business. Classic slugger—unpredictable in the ring—lacking finesse, sure, but overwhelming in his ability to apply constant pressure to his opponent; unrelenting in the offense and impenetrable defensively. He’d seemingly come out of nowhere (though some sources claimed he’d worked his way through the underground circuit, which could never be conclusively proven), and brawled his way to the WBA’s number one spot, pound-for-pound. It was a meteoric rise, which Karen had followed obsessively.

Until three years ago, when he’d been injured in a shoot-out in Vinegar Hill. The story that had circulated for months after his injury was as follows: Frank, walking home from the gym one night, sees a young boy being mugged by a group of gang bangers. Having a touch of big-fucking-hero complex, he decides to intervene. Manages to take out three of the assailants before another crew of gang bangers shows up—the boy being mugged apparently one of their own. Guns are drawn—shots are fired—Castle ends up in the hospital with a bullet in the brain and three in the torso.

Three years in recovery—three long fucking years of physical therapy and re-training his body and itching to get back in the ring—all because he had decided to play vigilante. There were rumors that he would never fight again; that his body was beyond repair. But Frank ignored them all and set his sights on the impossible. Someone told him to stay down, and you could guarantee he wouldn’t listen. So he worked hard—and smart, with the help of his trainer, Curtis Hoyle—for three years, knowing that the world hadn’t seen the last of The Punisher. Not by a long shot.

In the meantime, with Castle out of commission, there had been a power vacuum in the world of NYC boxing. A number one spot in the WBA sitting empty, waiting for a new challenger to claim. Enter Matthew Murdock: an out-boxer with enough dexterity and agility to more than make up for his lack of pure voltage. His ascent to power had been much slower than Castle’s—he didn’t have the raw brawn that had made The Punisher so devastating in the ring. But he did have technique. A style of fast-paced, defensive fighting that was damn near impossible to copy. And soon enough, he had claimed the number one spot in the WBA, a new kind of champion.

Until tonight, when a returning Castle had gone 10 vicious rounds with Murdock, defeating him at the 40 minute mark with a brutal TKO, the likes of which the boxing world had never seen before. Murdock had been carried out on a stretcher.

It was the fight of the decade, and Karen was eager to get her interview with Castle, for more reasons than one.

 They took several sharp turns, down one deserted hallway after the other, before suddenly emerging at the entrance to the locker room marked “Frank Castle,” which was being guarded by a brawny man in a tight, black t-shirt that read “Arena Security.”

Karen flashed her press badge as she approached the door.

“Sorry ma’am,” the guard shook his head. “No press for another half hour, at least. Castle’s recovering.”

“Oh, uh—” Karen flipped over her badge so that her name, in large, bold letters, was visible. “I’m Karen Page.”

“Oh!” The guard made a surprised little noise, and stepped to the side. “Sorry, Miss Page. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Quite alright,” Karen shook her head, reaching for the door knob. “Thank you.”

Foggy hoisted his camera on his shoulder and shook his head. It was another one of Karen’s little secrets—how she was mysteriously able to weasel her way to early access with some of the athletes. Frank Castle, especially. Every time they’d worked together to cover one of his matches—in the early days, before his injury—Karen found a way to get them into the locker room while other reporters waited behind in the press line. But he wasn’t going to question it—his job was just to point and shoot.

 Frank looked up from his place on the bench as the door to the locker room opened; he squinted hard in an attempt to see through his left eye—the one not completely swollen shut. It had been about ten minutes since he’d stepped out of the rink, bloodied and victorious, which meant that it was still too early for press. For endless interviews and answering asinine questions, all while dreaming of a hot shower and a cold ice pack.

“Good showing out there, Castle.”

Frank grinned (in spite of his badly split lip) as soon as he heard her voice—Miss Karen Page, his favorite reporter from CBS NY. He managed to focus his good eye enough to get a look at her, pristine and lovely in her high heels and pressed blouse. Golden hair falling out of a sophisticated twist. Damn, but she looked like a dream.

“Well hello there, Miss Page.” He smirked, leaning back against the lockers, his head making a soft thudding sound as it hit metal. “First one on the scene, as always.”

“You know me,” Karen shrugged with a grin. “Gotta get first blood.”

“Well,” Frank spread his arms wide (and Karen couldn’t help the way her eyes darted to all those sweaty, glorious muscles on display), “plenty of blood to go around.”

“I can see that. You gonna get a medic in here for that eye? Looks like you broke the socket.” Karen took a step forward, raising her hand as though to reach out and touch his face. Thinking better of it, she let her arm fall to her side.

“You know me,” Frank mimicked Karen’s statement. “I’ll just rub some dirt on it.”

Foggy cleared his throat from the doorway, eyes flitting between the two with amusement. Frank Castle was notoriously difficult to interview; laconic, dismissive, and grumpy—getting him to answer a question with more than one sentence was like pulling fucking teeth. With everyone else but Karen, that is. As soon as she strolled onto the scene, all of the sudden Frank was a fucking professional, giving multiple-sentence answers and smiling at the camera like he was goddamn Regis Philbin. Foggy had seen enough painful, awkward footage of Frank shutting down interviewers to know that the way he acted with Karen was far outside the norm. And part of it was clearly due to Karen’s skill—that woman could get a Cistercian monk to talk—but part of it was due to the obvious affection Castle had for her. An affection that—again—it wasn’t really Foggy’s place to question.

“Oh, you remember Foggy?” Karen pointed at the disgruntled camera man, wearing his uniform of baggy, khaki cargo shorts and graphic t-shirt (this one had an image of Princess Leia doing the Rosie the Riveter pose, with the words “We Can Do It” over her head).

“Hey.” Frank grunted, bobbing his head in recognition.

“We’ve only got a minute before we go live, Kare. How do you want me to set this thing up?” Foggy removed the cover from his camera lens, squinting through the eye piece.

“Uh…” Karen glanced around, hands on her hips. “We can get it in front of Frank’s name on the locker. That okay? It’ll be a short interview—just a few questions—so you won’t have to stand for too long.” She looked at Frank, head tilted to the side.

“You can put me anywhere you want me, ma’am.” Frank suppressed a grin at the blush that began to creep its way up Karen’s neck.

“Uhm yes.” Karen cleared her throat, gesturing for Frank to stand. “How about right here?” She moved into position, smoothing a hand down her skirt.

Frank rose with a deep groan, feeling his body protest at the movement. Karen’s eyes immediately shaded with concern.

“You sure you’re okay? We can postpone for a bit if you need an ice pack or something.” This time she did reach out to touch him, putting a steadying hand on his arm as he sidled up next to her.

“Nah, I’m good.” He let his gaze dart down to her pale, delicate fingers on his skin, and felt the heat of it blaze a trail down his spine.

“Okay. But you pass out during this interview and I’ll never forgive you. It’s live, so we can’t edit it out.” Her voice was stern.

“Would make for great T.V. though.”

“True.” Karen pretended to consider for a moment. “Never mind. If you do pass out, give us a little warning so Foggy can get it all on tape.”

Frank snorted, then groaned again when his split lip began to throb.

“Sorry, sorry.” Karen hid a chuckle. “Won’t make you laugh again. I promise.”

“Okay, okay.” Foggy cut into the conversation, having finished setting up his equipment. He reached into his bag and tossed a microphone Karen’s way. She just barely managed to catch it. “Karen, turn that ear piece on.” She reached up to flick on the audio feed in her ear. “We’re rolling in 5, 4 , 3…” he trailed off, mouthing the last few numbers. Karen raised the microphone to her lips.

“Good evening, New York. I’m Karen Page for CBS NY, here in the locker room at Barclay Center with Frank Castle, also known as The Punisher, just minutes after his unbelievable victory over Matthew Murdock.” She shot a grin his way. “So tell me, Frank, how does it feel to be back in the ring after such a long recovery period?”

“Well, Karen.” Frank put a little something on her name—something that felt like affection. “Feels real good. Like coming home.” He shifted on his feet deliberately until his arm was brushing against hers. She raised a subtle eyebrow at the move.

“You certainly looked at home in the ring.” Karen turned her body toward him just a touch more, and Frank bit back a smirk. “Were you at all nervous about going up against Murdock’s singular brand of defense? Facing such an unfamiliar out-boxer with your style of slugging must have been a challenge.”

“Nah—wasn’t nervous.” Frank shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a move that made his muscles bulge, and he counted it a victory that Karen’s eyes darted quickly—almost imperceptibly—to his pecs. “Curtis had been training me like the devil leading up to the fight, so I was really prepared for anything Murdock could throw at me.”

“Speaking of Curtis Hoyle,” Karen tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear, and Frank’s eyes tracked the move. He was a sucker for all that blonde hair. “I heard that he was instrumental in helping to speed along your recovery, after the unfortunate incident three years ago.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Frank bobbed his head in a nod. “Curtis kept me thinking about the future—focused on recovery. Worked with my physical therapist to create a training schedule. Brought me tapes of matches to study. A lot of Murdock’s matches, actually.”

“I’m sure it was difficult being bedridden while Murdock climbed the rankings. Do you think the idea of facing off against him kept you fighting to heal?”

“For sure.” Frank dropped his arms again, letting the right one lightly skim down Karen’s side as he did so. Her delicate shiver was glorious. “Thought a lot about getting to reclaim my title while I was training. Also thought a lot about all the people I missed seeing while I was out of commission—the fans, my favorite reporters,” the quirk of his lips was entirely too charming, “my fellow boxers. Focused on them and it made recovery a lot easier.”

“Well, we certainly are glad to have you back in the ring.” Karen’s eyes flicked to Foggy, who was giving her the 30 second signal. Time to wrap up the interview. “We’re going to let you hit the showers, now. Thanks for taking the time to talk with us at CBS NY.”

Frank couldn’t help it—he really couldn’t help it. Karen looked so damn gorgeous in her work clothes, with that serious expression on her face and her lips painted red for the camera. And he’d had enough of light teasing; of brushing against her like that was all he was allowed to do. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do it—that they were keeping their relationship under wraps for just a little bit longer—but he was helpless. When she turned those big, blue eyes on him—damn it—he really was a fool.

“Sure thing.” Frank smirked. “I’ll see you at home, sweetheart.” He ducked his head quickly, before Karen could react, and captured her lips with his own. She made a surprised squeak, hands flying up to press against his bare chest, before melting into the kiss ever so slightly.

“What the fuck?” Foggy’s whisper echoed in the quiet locker room.

Frank released Karen’s lips with a smack, winking at her devilishly before turning to head for the showers.

“I—uh—” Karen stuttered, turning to the camera with wide, dazed eyes. “I’m Karen Page and this is CBS NY sports.”

Foggy gave her the signal that they were off air, and they stared at each other for a long time. Speechless. Foggy looking bemused and Karen looking shell-shocked. The sound of the shower turning on in the background shook her from her brief catatonia.

“Uh…I can explain. We—he—uh,” She fumbled for words, but was cut off by Foggy.

“Oh my GOD, Karen Page! You are seeing The Punisher!” He laughed, slapping his thigh in joy. “Good on you!”

“Yeah, I…” Karen grinned. “Good on me.”

#kastle #karen page #frank castle #the punisher #request

[seven-oomen]

Hi, Ben!  Glad you’re still feeling better, and congratulations on getting so much of your story done!  I’m very curious to see what all tags end up on this one, given some of the previews (also really hoping some of the bad stuff doesn’t kick in right away, my anxiety is through the roof already right now…)

‘Cause, yeah, it’s Election Day, and I’ve been fighting off panic most of the day, and avoiding as many news sources and social media as I can.  It’s been a day of frenetic bursts of cleaning in between re-reading the stories I’ve posted to remind myself that I did like them and hopefully encourage myself to work on my own WIP some more (I did add a few hundred words last night!)

Also, since I don’t have a way to post little snippets without a tumblr, if you’re curious, here’s a preview of said WIP.  It has no title yet.  Basically, it happened because I realized there was no fake dating fic for Peter/Noah, and decided that needed to be fixed.  When no one who knew what they were doing stepped up, I decided to attempt it myself.  Enjoy?:

(Peter has just invited himself along via Noah’s Skype call)

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Ruthie,” Noah said, reaching out quickly to end the call. The sturdy shoulders beneath Peter’s arms seemed to almost melt with the release of tension. He realized he should probably let go and brace himself for the fallout. But Noah’s hand was still around his wrist, and yanking away suddenly might be a bit rude even for him. Before he had a chance to come to a decision, the expected response came from a very unexpected direction.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK?!” Stiles stood in the doorway looking not unlike a deer in the proverbial headlights. Derek was visible just past him, face set in the studiously blank expression that Peter knew meant he was laughing hysterically on the inside.

“Hey! Language!” Noah finally let go of him to point sternly in his son’s direction.

“Okay, first off, I’m 18 now and can say what I want. Secondly, no really, what the fucking fuck? Did you really just imply to Aunt Ruth that you’re going to be bringing Peter along as your boyfriend? Is that really what just happened?”

“It certainly sounded that way to me,” Derek chimed in, amusement lacing his tone and a smirk starting to curl the edges of his mouth despite his best efforts. “I’d say her expression of appalled dismay suggests she thought the same, though to be fair that may have just been a general reaction to Peter.”

Peter finished straightening up from where he’d been draped over Noah, spinning to lean one hand on the back of his chair and shooting his nephew a highly unimpressed look. Stiles flailed his hands to re-draw focus.

“A reasonable point, but one which still doesn’t answer my question. Because that was most definitely the impression you two were going for, don’t even try to pretend otherwise. Seriously, where the hell did that come from?”

“I’ve been rather wondering that myself. Care to enlighten us, Peter?” Noah twisted to glance up at him, eyebrows raised in determined inquiry. The problem was Peter still didn’t quite know what had motivated his actions. Eventually he just shrugged with as much indifference as he could muster.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” The other three men all rolled their eyes in an admittedly impressive display of synchronization. He glanced down at his unwitting partner in mischief. “You didn’t have to go along with it, you know. What’s your excuse?”

Noah held his gaze for a moment, the stormy blue-gray eyes giving nothing away. Finally he calmly shrugged and repeated back to him in a deliberately identical tone; “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Derek was looking more amused by the second, while Stiles was just looking a thousand percent done. “You do realize you’re now going to have to go through with this nonsense? She’s going to tell anyone and everyone she talks to. There will be no backing out. You’ll have to do it, and be convincing about it. How the hell do you plan to manage that? Dad, you don’t even like Peter!”

Peter shot a glare his direction because, while true, that was still rude, and opened his mouth to leap to his own defense. However, he never got the chance.

“I like Peter just fine, despite the violent tendencies and somewhat questionable taste in sports teams. The former has mostly tapered off, anyway, and the latter I can overlook for one weekend.”

That brought Peter up short on several fronts for a moment. He finally managed a very strangled, “Excuse me?!” that got lost beneath Stiles’ cry of “Oh, my God!” as the boy quite literally facepalmed. Really, and Peter got accused of being the dramatic one?

—–

So, uh, yeah.  There is so much self-indulgent, trope-tastic, fluffy nonsense in this fic so far.  In addition to the fake dating, you can also expect eventual pining, and if they ever get on the goddamn road, there will definitely be only one bed when they get there (there’s already been a fashion show, too).  One day I will also narrow down a song for a slow dance, too (every time I think I’ve picked I think of another one.)  I keep thinking I’m making progress, then I think of more things I want to work in.  (Oh god, what have I started?!?)

Anyway, that snippet was a little longer than I realized, so.  Glad things are continuing to improve!  Lots of good vibes for all your stories, and I’m (cautiously) looking forward to seeing what happens with your newest one.  I’m going to go try and eat something, particularly in case I break out the other bottle of wine. ’>.>  Take care!  *Hugs!*

I was just about to answer the other ask you send when I got this one XD

In any case, I broke out my wine because the first chapter is dark. Very dark. But that’s also pretty much where the darkness stops and things get a whole lot calmer from that point. It’s like, the worst thing happens and from that point it’s a story of healing. And a story of rekindled love and (found) family. 

To save you some anxiety I can spoil it a little (also because it will be in the tags and in the first author note.) But the first chapter will contain attempted murder and attempted child murder. It is dark, and it pretty creepy. I think it might be some of the darkest things I’ve written so far. It is fucked up but not super graphic. 

But yeah, I needed the wine after I finished the first 5 K.

And yeah man, I can’t even imagine the stress you guys must be under. I currently have one tab open for the election results so I can check them as soon as I wake up.  I’ve got my fingers crossed but also mentally preparing for the worst. I’ll be sending as many good vibes as I can, that’s for sure though.

And omg that preview is amazing XD

Maybe it’s the buzz from the wine or just the fantastic writing but I just laughed my balls off and scared the crap out of Mo.

Beautiful. I can picture Derek’s face, Stiles’s flailing and the “Oh my god!” 

God I love those boys. And I love this little story you created! It’s really well written <3

Thank you for sharing some. ^^

And omg I know that feeling of what have I done XD. OMG omg THEY WERE ROOMMATES

I just got that one, jesus this is why I don’t drink XD

Anyway, I do hope you’re taking good care of yourself tonight. Honestly you guys earned it and if you need to take a break from Tumblr or stories or whatever. That’s totally okay. As long as you’re okay and taking care <3

I’m still kicking over here and Mo’s napping away.

Hope you’re safe and sound tonight <3

Big hugs B!

#my convos with anon #B #ben says stuff #submission

[baepsaetan]

Nothing Planted, Nothing Gained (Namjin)

Summary: In which Namjoon is a student struggling through university with the help of his roommates Hoseok and Yoongi. Tae, Jimin and Kookie are their take-out swiping neighbours. Jin is a stranger who brings flowers into all of their lives.

Genre: Fluff, University!AU

Warnings: N/A

Length: 9.6k words

A/N: Just a lot of fluff and puns and flowers. Namjin is cute and so is Yoonseok, and everyone involved approves.

Sprawled out on the lumpy brown couch, one leg slung over the arm rest, using Hoseok as a precarious pillow instead of the couch backing with its numerous uncomfortable spots, Namjoon switched channels with a lazy flick of his fingers across the remote. Next to him Hobi stirred, a faint complaint rising in his throat but never actually voiced. Rules were rules after all, and they’d already watched three episodes of Hit the Stage. It was Namjoon’s turn to pick, and he’d be damned if he missed another Friends re-run so Hoseok could leap out of his seat and attempt to copy every other move of the contestants on the show. (He already knew at least 80% of the steps anyways, and that number was probably being stingy.) His roommate settled down after a moment and Namjoon leaned into him more, knowing he was taking a risk (Hobi liked to jump up unexpectedly) but too tired to care.

As Chandler, Joey and Ross bickered their way through some crisis or another, Namjoon let his mind wander. He was going to have to go back to the university today – he’d forgotten a textbook he needed to complete his paper – and despite living on campus, he was dreading it. You could call it sheer laziness, but with Sunday being his only day off from school and his part-time job, the thought of hauling himself over to McCaig Tower to grab something so minimal was irritating at best. Thus, his butt was still planted firmly on the couch, with no intention of leaving any time soon.

There was a shuffling of feet from down the hallway, which suggested Yoongi had finally reanimated enough to get out of bed. Sure enough, the pale man slouched through the living room, kicking aside the boxers sitting behind the couch, and crossed into the kitchen without a word. He reappeared a minute or so later with a bowl of cereal in his hands, which he proceeded to eat whilst staring blearily into space.

“Morning hyung,” Hoseok greeted cheerfully from the couch, utterly unfazed by the grunt that Yoongi gave in response.

Actually, Namjoon was a bit surprised to see him around so early in the morning; it was only ten, and given that he’d probably fallen asleep at five or six, it was odd he’d woken up. There was no point in questioning Yoongi about it – he didn’t feel like trying to translate monosyllabic replies – so Namjoon turned back to the TV, a comfortable silence settling over the three roommates. He’d lucked out with these two, though honestly, he couldn’t have imagined two more different people. At least - despite the glaringly dissimilar personalities - they all got along well. Oh, there were arguments, but they’d been living together for two years now and had more or less figured out how to fix problems as they arose.

Unlike the three idiots across the hall. A slight frown pulling across his mouth, he glanced at their door as though he could see through it and into the absolutely chaotic mess that belonged to the freshmen who’d moved in a few months ago. In and of themselves, he didn’t mind them. They were funny, usually helpful and an enthusiastic bunch altogether; having parties with them had proven to be an altogether fun experience. But when they fought… Namjoon had literally never heard such a cacophony of complaints and insults and strung out arguments. Last night, if the thin walls of the dorms spoke true, they’d been fighting about who’s turn it was to do the dishes.

Amateurs. That’s what schedules were for.

“Yoongi-hyung?” Namjoon asked, twisting to observe their oldest roommate, who was looking more and more alive with every spoonful of sugar he shoved into his mouth. The producing major raised an eyebrow with the plastic spoon still hanging from his mouth; he was awake enough to answer questions, it seemed.

“I ended up putting in my earphones to block them out. How long were Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin fighting for?”

A shrug of small shoulders, but after he’d finished slurping up the last of the milk, Yoongi answered. “Tae tapped out around two, and I think Jungkook and Jimin gave up around three. Good thing too. I was about to go over there and break all their damn dishes so they wouldn’t have anything to fight over.” Not an entirely idle threat – Yoongi was something of a terror when he was working on a project, especially by the end when he was running on a few hours of sleep at a time – but Hoseok let out an explosive laugh like he’d made the greatest joke in the world. After a second, Yoongi grudgingly smiled, the expression lightening the strained lines of his face and diminishing the painful bruises under his eyes.

“Seriously,” he muttered, but without heat, and disappeared around the corner to put his dish away.

Namjoon smiled too, fond and pleased, grateful all over that he’d gotten these two as roommates. Hoseok could draw Yoongi out of all but his worst moods and he kept their apartment reasonably clean, and Yoongi was great at planning their foods and necessities and made party playlists like no other. The two got along so well it was amazing they hadn’t taken further steps, and honestly it would probably make things a little easier for the both of them if one of them finally confessed. Less heart eyes and more heart action. Or at least some kind of action that involved two people instead of just one. Well, as for Namjoon… he broke stuff, settled arguments, made sure his actions were discreet, and tended to treat the others more than he treated himself. All in all, not a bad deal.

There was a knock on the door, and Namjoon had just enough time to regret his kind thoughts before Hoseok vacated his solemn duty as cushion and bounded off the couch. A wild flail wasn’t – quite – enough to save himself from falling off the battered sofa with his support gone, but it was enough to knock the remote flying. It hit the floor at about the same time as Namjoon did, the taped back cracking open on impact and scattering the batteries in separate directions with a metallic clatter.

There was a mixture of two familiar voices – Yoongi drawling, “Aish, Namjoonie,” from the kitchen and Hoseok’s bright voice saying, “Yo, what can we do for you?” from the door – before Namjoon managed to get his limbs under control and sit up from his awkward sprawl. He was just in time to catch a lightly frank reply. “Well, I’m your new roommate. Kim Seokjin. It’s nice to meet you!”

Hoseok’s confused choking sound was audible even from across the room, and Namjoon hurriedly got to his feet as Yoongi practically skidded out of the kitchen, both pairs of eyes fixed on the unexpected visitor. He was more than partially visible even with Hobi in the doorway, broad shoulders doing a great job of taking up space, and even as Namjoon strode forward the visitor leaned around Hoseok, gave an extravagant wave. Seokjin didn’t seem particularly perturbed by any of their reactions, not Yoongi’s suspicious squint or Hobi’s wide-eyed stare or Namjoon’s puzzled observation. If anything, he seemed to get brighter as they all crowded the entrance. At least, he smiled at them all.

And Namjoon swore to God that if the boy hadn’t been holding a potted plant under his arm, a massive suitcase leaning against his hip on the other side, that smile, set on full lips against a breathtaking face, would have been attractive enough to make him forget where he was. Alas. There was a suitcase. And some kind of flower.

Clearing his throat (because even if he couldn’t forget, he could still lose his breath a little) Namjoon gently edged Hoseok more to the side. “Hey,” he said, still struggling with his confusion and… other things. “My name’s Namjoon. Kim Namjoon. This is Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok. I’m sorry, did I hear you say you’re our new roommate?” As far as he was aware, they weren’t up for a new roomie this semester (or any semester if Yoongi had anything to do with it. And considering he was the one who filled out all their housing forms every term, he kinda did) and yet there was an easy certainty in Seokjin, a confidence that gave Namjoon a few doubts.

It wasn’t like the housing department hadn’t ever screwed up before. Hoseok still wasn’t fully recovered from the toilet incident, and Namjoon had only just managed to stop those movers from dumping a towering cabinet into their living room because “housing said it was supposed to go there.” Maybe this time they’d neglected to tell the current tenants of a new roommate?

Seokjin laughed, a sound that came from his whole body and made something in Namjoon’s stomach tighten. “Yeah, you heard right. You guys look a little startled. Is it the plant? I promise I’m not into that kind of potting.” A delay of half a second and then Hoseok snickered, bouncing on the balls of his feet while Namjoon felt an unintentional smile curing up the corners of his mouth. Seokjin lifted up the flower tucked under his arm, proudly displaying it, and said, “See?”

Indeed, it was definitely not a pot plant (not that Namjoon would know anything about that). He knew about as much as the next city boy about flowers, but it had dark green leaves that were covered with purplish fuzz that looked like velvet. Maybe… it was a fern of some kind? The only other thing Namjoon knew was that his skin was itching just looking at the thing, and that contact with it would probably result in spectacular rashes and hives. There was a reason (besides their inability to keep anything besides themselves alive) that their apartment was a plant-free zone.

“It looks great,” Namjoon agreed neutrally, “but, the thing is -”

“We’re not supposed to have another roommate.” Yoongi’s first words were overly sharp, making Namjoon wince inwardly as the first signs of insecurity drifted across the soft panes of Seokjin’s face, his wide eyes giving a few rapid blinks. Either Yoongi realized his tone was too harsh or the shifting Namjoon felt somewhere behind was Hoseok giving him a surreptitious kick, because the short man shrugged and added, “I mean, housing is a bunch of colossal screw-ups. Not your fault if they made a mistake. Which room are you supposed to be in?”

Free hand curling into the baggy pocket of his light beige sweater, Seokjin took out a crisply folded piece of paper, smoothed it out and squinted at it for a few heartbeats before proffering it in much the same way as he had the plant. “Apartment 352,” he said, blinking hard enough that his face scrunched cutely.

Shoving down the soft sound that was hovering far too close to escape, Namjoon shook his head slightly, ignoring Yoongi’s relieved sigh. “352 isn’t ours. It’s across the hall.” He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not, but he had to admit he was a little curious about how their new neighbor had managed to miss the large, cheap plastic numbers to the right of their door that said ‘351’.

For one second Seokjin just stared at him, his delicate eyebrows drawing down in bewilderment, before he pulled back the paper, holding it protectively close to his chest. “Oh,” he said in a rather small voice, and Namjoon wasn’t sure why he looked so crestfallen. Something about him – the confidence from before, maybe - made it seem like he wasn’t often deflated. Seokjin’s eyes flitted to the side – probably looking at the numbers – and his already pink face abruptly flushed red, eyebrows furrowing deeper. It looked like he was struggling to hold something back, but the struggle didn’t last for long. Abruptly he burst out in an indignant rush, “Yah! Should I call myself blind? Why does your door say 352, then?”

Several moments of startled silence passed before a sneaking suspicion made Namjoon glance at Yoongi, seeing the same suspicion stirring on his roommate’s face. “You don’t think they…?” Yoongi began in a tightly foreboding voice, and Namjoon shook his head.

“They better not have.” Except, as he leaned around Seokjin with an apologetic murmur, one hand on the doorframe to balance himself, Namjoon already knew what he would see. Someone had taken the 1 in 351 and replaced it with a 2. The two was slightly crooked. And by “someone” he meant… Looking across the hall, sure enough, the younger boys’ room was decorated with a 351. It was with some chagrin that Namjoon noted that they’d managed to get their numbers straight.

Hoseok took one look at his face and chuckled. “They did it again, didn’t they?”

He raked his hand through his hair in a swift motion, turning back to the impatiently confused Seokjin. “Sorry,” Namjoon said. “I get it now. The freshmen across the hall… your roommates, I guess… they’ve switched our numbers before. When we ordered takeout, the delivery guy went to their door instead and since we already paid for it…” He still regretted missing out on that order of bulgogi, and after the amount he’d lectured them, and Yoongi had made idle observations about how easy it would be to hide bodies under the school field, he was a bit incredulous they’d be willing to do it again.

Apparently, he’d underestimated their love of free food.

Seokjin’s eyes had widened in something that was suspiciously close to delight, and even before Namjoon had finished he was snorting, a quiet sound that quickly grew into a full-fledged gasp that might have held a hint of relief. He’d probably thought they were playing a mean-spirited prank when they’d lied straight to his face. “You’re telling me my roommates are take-out takers? Inconvenient convenience food thieves?”

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” Yoongi grumbled while Namjoon clasped his hand over his mouth to hide the silly smile fighting – and winning – it’s way across his lips.

Seokjin beamed. “Sorry! It’s Yoongi, right? But anyways, I should go greet the grub grabbers.” There was something utterly unapologetic – even gleeful -  about his expression as all three of them groaned, Yoongi covering his face with his hands, and he gave a little wave. “Sorry for taking up your guys’ time.”      

Hobi matched the sunny smile after recovering from the spout of alliteration. “Don’t worry neighbor!” he exclaimed, grinning and sweeping out his arms. “Easy mistake to make. Do you need any help moving in? Your roomies are all young punks, they probably won’t offer to help.”

Not really true – Taehyung and Jungkook had nearly killed themselves helping Yoongi haul up the ugly couch they were now the proud owners of while Hoseok and Namjoon were working, and Jimin would have helped if he wasn’t taking an exam – but the comment had Seokjin shrugging and shaking his head with amiable ease. “Nah, nah,” he said. “This is all I have right now. Actually…”

He leaned around all of them, peering critically into the apartment, and Namjoon felt a prickle of embarrassment. From the door, you could see into both the kitchen and the living room, and into the hallway that led off to the room that Hobi and Yoongi shared as well as Namjoon’s own room. It wasn’t that messy, but they probably could have picked up the boxers on the floor, or thrown out the empty snack bag on the couch, and the near life-size Ryan doll in the corner was maybe a bit much.

Seokjin stared at the Ryan doll long enough to have Namjoon shifting, but then he seemed to snap out of it and rocked back on his heels, smiling. “I thought so. You guys have a balcony, right?”

“If you want to definite it as a balcony, sure,” Namjoon said dryly, looking over his shoulder at the sliding glass door in the living room that led out onto the “balcony”. The little ledge – maybe three feet of space – looked like it’d been added as an afterthought, just like the rest of the balconies on this side of the building, and it didn’t have a rail or anything. Namjoon supposed you could stand out there (before he’d quit smoking, Yoongi had done just that), but housing had strongly advised against it, and so did self-preservation. Falling from the third floor of an apartment complex would be a great excuse to skip exams, but it’d probably be a great excuse to skip the rest of life, too.        

Their neighbor’s nod was so enthused he almost looked like a bobble head, and Namjoon had to hide his smile behind his hand again. “I thought so,” Seokjin repeated with no small satisfaction. “I saw it when I visited here last week to sign the papers and finish my living arrangements. That’s why I got this guy.” He waved the plant around a little wildly, and Namjoon hurriedly leaned away. Seokjin dropped his arm after a moment, eyebrows furrowing in complacent contemplation. “Are there balconies on the other side?”

It took them a second, the roommates exchanging considering glances, but eventually Namjoon shrugged. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing a door in your room.” Maybe the already lackluster balcony plans had fallen through along with the budget by the time the builders got around to the other side of the building. They certainly hadn’t fully completed the recreation room on the first floor, or finished painting the front lobby. He supposed that was the reason that these dorms were so inexpensive, and neither he nor his roommates were much inclined to complain about it.

Seokjin also took the news in stride. Broad shoulders giving a shrug, the university student tilted his head back and forth a few times before he abruptly seemed to come to a decision. “You don’t have any plants, do you?”

“No,” Hoseok replied, glancing back into their apartment. “Namjoon-ah is-”

“Then you can have this!” Quite ruthlessly, Seokjin was abruptly shoving the flower into Namjoon’s unsuspecting hands despite his muddled protests, and there was a fragmented moment in which Namjoon struggled desperately with the smooth pot before it began to slip from his fingers. He had just enough time to have some partial vision of a future in which the pot was broken on the floor, the flower dead and Seokjin never spoke to him again, before Hoseok was abruptly there, smoothly rescuing the plant just as it dropped out of his grasp. The leaves brushed against the skin of his arms and hands as Hobi pulled it up and into his steady hold, and Namjoon could practically feel the welts that would be springing up in the next few minutes.

Yoongi snorted. “You’re giving it to the wrong person, Seokjin. Namjoon-ah is-”

“Really clumsy.” Still recovering from the near-drop, Namjoon barely managed to interrupt his hyung in time, and he wasn’t even entirely sure why he did it as Yoongi shot him a sharp look. It was just – Seokjin was beaming, an energetically, utterly unreserved amusement shining in the flush dusting his round cheeks, in the wide darkness of his eyes, and Namjoon didn’t want to have anything to do with dimming that harmless happiness, even if he was allergic to most flowers. Even if having flowers around wasn’t exactly convenient.

“I can see that,” Seokjin giggled in reply to Namjoon, a surprisingly high pitched sound that jumped into a squeaking note that was… it was damn adorable, honestly.

Namjoon blushed stupidly, smiling in sheepish apology and only vaguely appalled at how hot he was getting. “Sorry,” he said, voice dropping lower in an embarrassment that had nothing to do with almost letting the pot fall. “Promise I’ll be more careful next time. Uh… are you sure you want to give us this?”

Part of him was hoping Seokjin would change his mind, but another part of him was relieved when he nodded firmly. “Yeah, I am. I was going to get more, anyways. I love flowers,” he confided with an unabashed smile, another quick laugh. “Just take care of it, okay? You should put it out on the ledge while it’s nice out; it doesn’t need much more than watering, though if you got a trellis or a hanging basket for it, it would grow better.” His concern for the plant was blatant, and Hoseok’s grip became tighter, almost like he was imagining Seokjin’s horror if he were to be the one to murder the flower.

The sigh he heaved seemed to be pulled from the depth of his being, and Yoongi flicked one hand, dismissive. “We got it. Don’t worry, even Hobi can’t mess up watering a flower.”

While Hoseok gave an indignant exclamation, Seokjin smiled at Yoongi, his soft eyes blinking gratefully. “Thank you,” he said with simple gratitude, so sincere that Namjoon had the novel experience of seeing his hyung blush, just faintly, and jerk his shoulders in the universal sign for “don’t mention it”.

Taking a deep breath, their unexpected visitor threw back his head, looking at them for one more moment. “Well, it was really nice meeting you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again. I hope we do.” Namjoon wasn’t entirely sure if he was imagining the way that Seokjin looked just at him when he said that last bit. He probably was. His psych classes taught him more than enough about wish fulfillment in the human psyche, and wow did he wish Seokjin was just saying that to him.

“Yeah, please don’t be a stranger, stranger!” Hoseok insisted. “You can come visit your flowers.” He gently shook the plant, just enough to make it sway like it was waving goodbye, and the grin he and Seokjin shared could have given a storm cloud second thoughts about its chosen profession.

Yoongi was less warm, but even he managed a pale smile. “Keep those kids in line, will you?” he asked, angling his head to indicate the door across the hall. “They could use a hyung to set a good example.”

Utterly without negative judgement, Namjoon still wasn’t entirely sure Yoongi was putting his faith in the right person, but Seokjin nodded, quite seriously. He then reached out, carefully pried the 2 off of the wall beside the rest of the numbers where it had been stuck with several pieces of tape folded on the back. Lifting the number high over his head, his voice taking on a stern cast, Seokjin said, “I’ll tell you this, seriously. The second I became their roommate, their number was up!”

“Haha!” Namjoon couldn’t stop the startled laughter that broke sharply from him at the ridiculously stupid, clever joke, and though he clapped his hand over his mouth to stop the sound, the damage was done. Seokjin laughed too, loud and brazen, and a second later Hoseok burst in, making Namjoon drop his hand, and then they were all laughing so hard it was impossible to scale back the hilarity. In the midst of the uproar Yoongi muttered something that was probably unflattering and stalked back into the dorm, disappearing into his room, but none of them could be very apologetic.

When they finally got a hold of themselves – Seokjin with hiccupping gasps, Namjoon with tears of amusement in his eyes, Hobi with bright red cheeks – Namjoon wiped hastily at his eyes, straightening up a bit. “Ah… ah, thank you, Seokjin. It was nice meeting you, too. And don’t mind Yoongi-hyung too much. He has a lot of work to do right now.”

Unsurprisingly, Seokjin didn’t seem the least bit offended. He didn’t seem to take much of anything too much to heart. “It’s fine. I’ll have a lot of school work to do, too, so I understand. And just so you know – most of my friends call me Jin.” His head tilted, full lips curling up into a cute expression. “You can call me that, if you want.”

Namjoon stared at him before hurriedly clearing his throat. Jin. He liked that. “Okay. Jin. Got it. Feel free to stop by later if you need anything; we’re usually around on Sundays.” He almost held himself from saying anything more, but then he felt Hoseok’s finger poking him sharply in the back, and with that prod, Namjoon brushed his hand over his hair, added, “We’d – Umm, I’d love to talk again, if you’ve got time.”

“Great,” Jin said immediately, with what seemed to be real pleasure. “I’ll get everything settled and see if I can’t drop in later. Until then, Hoseok, Namjoon…” With an enthusiastic wave, the boy wrestled his suitcase around, began to tug it over to the dorm across the hall. Namjoon waited until he’d made it to the other apartment without being flattened by his bag before he closed the door, a fluttering nervousness in the pit of his stomach.

As soon as the door was shut Hoseok set down the plant on the plastic folding stand that served as their dining room table, chuckling softly to himself, seemingly unaware of his roommate’s reaction. “That was funny. Yoongi-hyung’s face when he thought we were getting a new roommate… And ‘their number was up’… Ah, I think this will be good for the kids, too, having someone to look after them. What did you think of Jin, Joonie? Joonie? What’re you doing?”

Caught with Ryan in a headlock as he tried to drag the big lion through the living room, Namjoon froze, his eyes darting guilty to Hobi. “I – I’m just - uh…” Drawing himself up, he made his voice stop breaking. “I’ve been meaning to move him to my room for a while now. Yoongi-hyung’s always complaining that he’s an eyesore.”

With a puzzled little smile, Hoseok shook his head. “You know Yoongi-hyung doesn’t mean that. He thinks Ryan is cute.” A pause, and then a bloodcurdling (to Namjoon) understanding broke across his face. “Jin’s not going to care if he’s there, Joonie. He’ll probably think he’s cute, too.” When Namjoon opened his mouth to protest, Hoseok excitedly waved his attempts aside. “Yah, don’t lie! Why else would you have accepted the plant? You liiiike him!” The wiry boy swept up the plant again, danced around with the flowers in an energetic display. “Who would have thought?” he asked the deep purple leaves, and they almost seemed to dance as well. “Our Joonie has a crush! Wah, so, sooo cute!”

It took about five minutes for Hobi to calm down, and by then Namjoon had given up on moving Ryan and put him back in his corner (secretly praying Hoseok would be right about Jin not caring), and washed his hands thoroughly in the sink in the hopes of delaying the spread of his rash. That finished, he began to tidy up the apartment, starting with the broken remote. As expected, he was beginning to get a red stain across his hands, but it wasn’t very severe, and in light of everything else, it was pretty easy to ignore. Hugging the potted flowers to his chest, still almost vibrating with excitement, Hobi watched him at work before he said, “Although you know, Namjoon, I dunno what you’re gonna do with this guy. What if he learns you don’t like flowers?”

“He won’t learn,” Namjoon replied tartly. “He’ll just see a very well looked after plant and that’ll be it. Besides, I like flowers, I just… can’t take care of them.” His expression abruptly became calculating, and Hoseok paused in his fidgeting as Namjoon added, “I’m just so glad I have two wonderful hyungs.”

Wary and confused, Hoseok asked, “What do you…” His eyes drifted down to the pot, and abruptly he grimaced. “Oh.” It was his turn to look calculating. “You do all my turns at the dishes and I’ll water your plant.”

“I’ll take over one of your dish days and you’ll water our plant,” Namjoon corrected, and after a moment of consideration Hoseok grinned.

“Deal. Although remember I’m visiting my parents next week. You’ll have to get Yoongi-hyung to do it then.” Laughing, he opened the screen door. “Good luck with that.” Carefully he put the plant down, rotating it several times before stepping back to admire the way it seemed to immediately soak up the sun. “Ah, it’s kinda pretty, isn’t it?”

Namjoon stared at the velvety purple leaves, gently stirring in the light breeze, but he was thinking about a flushed, untroubled face, hearing a high and charming laugh. Running one finger across his lips, ignoring the itch of his hives beginning to break out across his hand, Namjoon smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed lightly. “Yeah, it is kinda pretty.”

—–

His books almost seemed to fight to spill out of his hands as he tried to balance them while unlocking the door to the dorm, but by some miracle Namjoon managed to open it without dropping any of them. His luck lasted for two steps into the apartment, and then they tumbled from his arms, hitting the floor with three separate thuds that made him wince. “Aish…” he muttered, bending down to pick them up. When he straightened, the first thing his previously distracted eyes landed on was…

Another pot with another set of flowers. These ones were small and a sunny yellow colour, the dark green leaves making a marked contrast to the buds. Even as he stared at them Yoongi came out of his room, headphones settled around his neck, a thick notebook in his hands. Without looking up from his notes, Yoongi commented, “Yeah, another one. He dropped it off about an hour ago. Is that the seventh or eighth one? I’m starting to lose track.”

Automatically Namjoon glanced out the screen door to the tiny ledge, where a plethora of plants were crowded, half of them climbing enthusiastically up trellises. (They’d needed to look up what a trellis was before heading to the dollar store.) The wild collection of colours wasn’t limited just to the deck; they’d managed to put two of them in hanging baskets, which Yoongi had somehow found a way to hook up, bringing the vibrant plants to just above eye level as well. They couldn’t really stand out there anymore, but as far as Namjoon was concerned this was a much better use of the space, anyways. He was already planning the best place to put this new addition.

Yoongi had torn his eyes away from his work, was frowning at him. “Ah, Namjoon-ah,” he complained. “Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

It took Namjoon a second to understand what Yoongi meant before it dawned on him. His unconscious smile was so wide it pushed up his cheeks, but he didn’t bother trying to tamp it down even as he became aware of it. Jin was just so joyful about the stupid flowers, he could hardly be faulted for smiling whenever he saw them. Even if he still couldn’t actually take care of them. He just wished he hadn’t missed Jin dropping by. Besides, for all that he complained, it was Yoongi who was in the process of making the little flower bed so that they could be moved inside more easily when it started getting cold out, and Namjoon hadn’t even asked him to do that.  

“It’s nice to see you too, hyung,” Namjoon said instead, throwing his books onto the couch. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the recording studio? I thought you wanted to finish that piece with noona.”

Yoongi shrugged irritably. “I asked her if we could do it tomorrow, and she was fine with it. I wanted to…” He looked up abruptly from his notebook, eyes narrowing, and shook his head. “Never mind. How was class?” As he said it he shut the book firmly, threw it onto the couch to join the temporary graveyard of papers growing there, and headed to the kitchen.

Namjoon waited until Yoongi was out of sight before moving to pick up the discarded book. “Class was good,” he called as he flipped it open, fingers moving swiftly to find the most recent page. “Jackson distracted the professor into a thirty-minute discussion about the merits of humorous but informative social media posts versus merely informative ones, so he ended up postponing the test until next week.” Namjoon finally found what seemed to be the newest page (Yoongi tended to be quite methodical with his work) and a fresh smile broke across his face.

In neat, almost compulsively tidy strokes, the measurements for the indoor flowerbeds flowed along next to equally fastidious 3D rectangular drawings. Yoongi’s notes on each flower’s needs (collected by both him and Namjoon) littered the page, information about water and light exposure, and the page was titled, “Joonie’s Stupid Flowers.” He’d known Yoongi was planning on making the boxes, scoffing off the suggestion of buying them as being too expensive, but that he’d go to this length… It reminded Namjoon that he needed to buy some antihistamines for when they did move the plants indoors to avoid dying, but he’d get to that later.

“Jin was really disappointed that he missed you.” With a guilty start Namjoon belatedly snapped the notebook shut, and as he looked up Yoongi arched an eyebrow at him, a bag of snacks in his hand. The small man’s eyes went to the notebook and flitted away as though he hadn’t noticed it, but his expression was a bit stony as he added, “He asked me to ask you to head over there as soon as you got home. You’d better go rush over to your boyfriend.” Obviously, he’d decided the best defense was a good offense, and Namjoon winced internally.

Reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, Namjoon awkwardly proffered the book. “He’s not my boyfriend, hyung,” he said, though he was careful to keep his voice mild.

Yoongi snorted and ignored the offering. “Could have fooled me. You’re over there just as often as you’re here. More, maybe.”

If he’d thought Yoongi was anything but annoyed at him for snooping, that comment might have hurt and even been worrisome, made him wonder if he had been abandoning his roommates too much in the last few months. But Namjoon knew Yoongi, knew that tongue in cheek accusation for what it was – a distraction – so he let it go as best as he could as he sighed. “What, are you and Hobi-hyung getting tired of having the apartment to yourselves?” he asked, and had the slight pleasure of seeing Yoongi stiffen, though not from anger.

Jin had introduced flowers into their lives, but he’d introduced more than that, too. Finally, after literal years of mutual pining, Hoseok had only just recently confessed to Yoongi, and Namjoon was pretty sure Seokjin’s gentle nagging had been behind that. And, to hear Hobi tell it, Yoongi had stared at him for a long moment after he’d confessed before muttering something about stupid flowers going to his head. And then they’d kissed.

None of which Yoongi would admit to, of course.

“We’re doing fine,” Yoongi snapped, not quite managing to hide his blush as he snagged the book that Namjoon was still offering. “You shouldn’t keep Jin waiting. And if you want me and Hobi to take care of that ugly thing on top of all the others,” he jerked his head at the flower, “you’re going to have pay for my Beats the next time I need to buy a new pair.” In a huff, he strode back to his room, book in one hand and snacks in the other, and slammed the door behind him.

“Some people never change,” Namjoon commented lightly to Ryan, and took the lion’s silence for agreement. A fisherman’s hat had been placed on Ryan’s head at a jaunty angle, courtesy of Seokjin, and Namjoon readjusted it a bit as he (as always) tried to distract himself from his nerves. Not because of the confrontation with Yoongi; actually, that hardly deserved the name compared to the fights they’d had before. Yoongi would get over it, and he’d get over it faster if Namjoon slipped an apology note under his door coupled with an iTunes gift card, so that wasn’t a concern.

Hanging out with Jin, on the other hand…

Namjoon spent a few minutes in the bathroom, making sure he looked alright after two consecutive two hour long classes, tugging at the collar of his white shirt until it sat more snuggly at the base of his throat. He checked his slacks (he’d managed to knock over a cup of coffee during lunch, but it looked like he’d avoided splashing his pants or shirt) and then ran his fingers through his silver hair in a hopeless sort of frustration. There wasn’t much he could do about the mess it was in; any attempts to style it would just wilt in the heat, and besides, who had time for that? Jin hadn’t rejected him out of hand for it before, so logically there was nothing to worry about now.

He was really starting to hate how little logic had to do with liking someone. And also how “hate” could be a synonym for “love” in the right context.

Eventually satisfied that he wasn’t going to shame his parents with his appearance, Namjoon grabbed two packets of Crab Chips from the cupboard. They’d never stacked the cupboard with so many seafood snacks before – Namjoon hated them and Yoongi and Hoseok were apathetic at best – but Jin inhaled them like they were particularly tasty clumps of air, and since he often cooked big dinners for them and his own roommates, it was only fair to repay the favor. The fact that Namjoon could probably literally watch Jin stuff his cheeks to the bursting point with them for hours on end had nothing to do with it.

Finally he was more or less ready, and Namjoon didn’t let himself procrastinate even though the couch looked excessively inviting as an excuse to stay home for a bit longer. Quickly locking the apartment behind him (although with Yoongi in that mood, he pitied anyone who tried to break in) he crossed the corridor, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, and knocked on Jin’s door. A beat of silence, and then from somewhere within the dorm came a quick flurry of voices raised in argument, followed by several loud thuds and cursing. He could imagine well enough what was happening, and wondered in spite of his nerves who would win the contest.

It took a few more moments, but eventually the door was flung open, Jungkook partially turned to fight off Taehyung as the slightly smaller boy tried to dart around him in one last desperate bid. As soon as they saw him they both subsided, panting and glowering at each other in the friendliest way imaginable, and Tae complained breathlessly, “Wah, hyung, if I’d known it was you I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Namjoon laughed, shook his head. “Who’d you think it was?”

Jimin, who had his feet up and was watching something on the TV, answered in the sheepish silence that followed his question. “They ordered some video game console and it’s supposed to come in soon. Whoever signs for it gets to play on it first.” Well, that was one way to decide who got first dibs… he supposed.

“Jin-hyung’s in the kitchen,” Jungkook supplied helpfully before his eyes fell on the snack bags that Namjoon held. It was difficult to describe the extent to which his expression lit up. “Who’re those for, hyung?”

“One’s for you to share,” Namjoon replied, and tossed the bag to Jimin, who’d looked up at the mention of food. The oldest of the three caught the packet deftly, smiling smugly at Jungkook, but despite his expression he tended to be the fairest in distributing food. Jungkook would cheerfully taunt his friends until they keeled over from hunger, and Tae was so prone to zoning out he could eat the whole bag without noticing, or have Jimin and Jungkook take all of it without getting any for himself.

Pouting as he flopped onto the couch next to Jimin, Jungkook demanded, “Hyung, why do we get one bag and Jin gets one – oof,” that was Taehyung landing in his lap, the older boy eager to sit next to the food. “TaeTae, get off you stupid…” The fight was brief and indecisive; Jungkook managed to shift Taehyung more to one side, away from the food, almost poking out Jimin’s eye in the process, but Tae clung stubbornly to him and eventually he gave it up as a bad job. Refocusing, Jungkook grumbled, “I was saying, hyung, why does Jin-hyung get one whole bag to himself?”

Before Namjoon could reply, a lightly stern voice came from the kitchen. “Yah, I’m three times as attractive as all of you, so you get a third of a bag!”

Spreading his hands in a “what can I do?” gesture, Namjoon said, “You heard the man,” before trailing off into the kitchen. He may or may not have heard someone mutter, “Whipped,” in a voice that was suspiciously loud for something that wasn’t supposed to be heard, but ignored it with the rather dismal thought that you couldn’t be whipped if you weren’t attached in the first place.

The dispirited feeling fled as soon as Jin’s thick back came into view, the other male bent over something on the counter, and Namjoon paused for a moment to just stare. The way his broad shoulders tapered into thin hips with a Mario apron tied around them, the confidence and steady surety with which his beautiful hands flew across the food he was preparing, the constant mumbling to himself as he decided what he wanted to do… If Namjoon, four months ago, had been asked to create a list of his turn-ons, a broad back might have made the cut, but he’d had no idea he could enjoy someone’s mannerisms as much as (far more) than their looks, on a level that was almost physical.

It was ridiculous and wonderful, all at once. Namjoon supposed that pretty much summed up Jin in a nutshell.

He must have made a sound, a sigh or something, because Jin abruptly turned, half a potato in his hand, the rest already sliced on the cutting board he’d been leaning over. “Hey Namjoon-ah,” Jin greeted easily. “How did your exam go?” He said it as such an afterthought, but Namjoon found his lips curling up at the kindness of a friend remembering he was supposed to have a test today.

“Postponed,” he replied, trying to match Jin’s straightforwardness and feeling he failed. “One of my classmates got the teacher rambling, so we didn’t have enough time to do it.”

“Ah, so lucky,” Jin said, but approvingly, without any envy. “Will you want help studying again, then? You seemed to know everything even before we started, but…”

He’d had the material memorized since the class they’d been given it in, but when Jin had suggested studying together, Namjoon had been willing to pretend to forget everything he’d ever learned. Another opportunity was no different so, leaning against the fridge door to stay out of Jin’s way as he threw the snack bag onto the counter, he replied, “Sure, if you’ve got time. A little extra studying never hurt.” And a little extra time with Jin never hurt, either.

“Great! I’m not sure when I’m free but I can figure it out in a bit.” Turning back to the cutting board, Jin finished chopping up the potato, adding it to an already big pile growing next to him. “Do you know if Yoongi-ah and Hobi are free tonight? I was thinking I could make enough for everyone to come over.”

Still leaning heavily against the fridge, Namjoon cocked his eyebrow. “You didn’t ask Yoongi-hyung when you spoke to him earlier?”

With a vaguely outraged expression, Jin huffed, “I was going to, but he kicked me out before I could.”

“Kicked you out?” That seemed a story worth hearing.

Turning away, Jin picked up the next round of vegetables to be chopped. “Yeah. I thought my joke was funny, but he didn’t seem to agree. Suggested I got my sense of humor from a particularly dull stump.”

“Ouch.” Although, despite Jin’s affronted tone, Namjoon knew well enough that he wasn’t offended, or at least not as much as he was appearing to be. “I managed to piss off Yoongi-hyung today as well. Just glad I don’t share a room with him, or I might be sleeping on the couch. What was the joke?”

“Mmm, I was commenting that I hadn’t seen Hobi’s sunny self recently, he’s been so busy with those dance classes. And then I said, ‘A while ago I stayed up all night to see where the sun went. And then it dawned on me.’ That’s when he threw me out.”

Namjoon's chuckle rolled out, long and luxurious as he enjoyed both the wordplay but more so the thought of Yoongi’s face when Seokjin had spoken, and Jin glanced at him before joining in. Their laughter, low and deep, high and squeaky, mixed together to make a sound that was all mirth and no worries, and by the time they managed to get themselves together Namjoon’s sides ached, and Jin looked like he was regretting the pain in his cheeks as he gasped and tenderly prodded at them.

“I wish I could have seen hyung’s face,” Namjoon finally got out, and Jin nodded in an attempt at solemnity that quickly dissolved into another hiccupping laugh.

“Poor Yoongi-ah,” Jin said, smiling widely as he turned back to the food preparations. “I hoped he’d be a little happier once him and Hobi got together.”

Namjoon was smiling, too, fond and warm. “Oh, he is. Much happier. Now when he says harsh things, it’s more a habit than anything. Most of the time, anyways. I think he needs to remember how to let go of his prickles, but in the mean time he’s softening them, making them stab less. I guess it’s not as obvious if you haven’t known him as long.”

“Good,” Jin replied with a quick bob of his head, beginning to cut up the roots on the board, a quiet pleasure in his voice. “Speaking of getting together… that’s actually what I asked you to come here for.” For one second Namjoon’s breath caught, a rush of realization and uncertainty flooding over him, but Jin didn’t take long enough to give him time to come to any not-so-solid conclusions. Before the half-hopes drifting in his head could get anywhere near concrete, the chef continued. “I’m gonna go shopping on Sunday for some things, and I wanted to know if you wanted to go with me?”

His first reaction was disappointment, a clinging, dark sort of feeling that was hard to shake off, but then Namjoon noticed something. He was staring at Jin (of course he was), and despite being perfectly poised to bring the knife down, despite not looking at Namjoon at all, Jin had stopped chopping as he asked the question, and he remained frozen even now. As though he was waiting. As though he was… nervous, maybe? They’d never gone anywhere together before, just the two of them – even studying had just been in one of their living rooms.

Running his tongue over too-dry lips, Namjoon found himself nodding vigorously. “Of course,” he replied, almost hoarsely, and had to cough to get the sound to smooth away, wondering if he was imagining the way Jin’s broad shoulders seemed to abruptly loosen. He certainly wasn’t imagining that the knife started to rise and fall again. “I’d be happy to go with you. Where are we headed? What’re you picking up?” Maybe he could get some of the things his dorm needed, too, and save Hobi and Yoongi the shopping trip.

“Well we’re going to need more groceries,” Jin explained, and his voice was higher than usual, almost strained. “And I was thinking – if you wanted – well, I kinda wanted to drop by the Gardens.”

Namjoon paused. The Gardens. A vast, sprawling park filled with every conceivable kind of flower, every conceivable kind of pollen and spore and rash-inducing burr. Needless to say, he’d never been there, and had not up until this point considered going. Except Jin had turned around, was staring at him with playful expectation, and a hard ‘no’ was so far out of the realm of possibility it might as well have been an alien.

Well… he’d been meaning to mention this for quite a while now… Taking a deep breath, Namjoon rubbed his hand across his face as he began. “Uh, look, Jin-hyung, I’d really like to go shopping with you, definitely, and I imagine that it’ll be a great experience, but the thing is that I can’t really go to the Gardens with you.” Jin’s eyebrows furrowed with a confusion that could shortly become hurt, and Namjoon hurried on. “I mean, I’d really, really like to walk with you through them, but I -”

“Walk with me through them?” Jin interrupted, and Namjoon dropped his hand, jaw aching with tension as he waited for the other boy to get annoyed. Except… Jin didn’t seem mad, or even irritated. Just confused. “Namjoon-ah, why would you walk with me through a garden, full of plants, when you’re allergic to them?”

If he’d been sprinting and run straight into a brick wall, Namjoon couldn’t have been more floored. Eyes widening, his jaw dropping, he made a sound somewhere between a croak and a gasp. Namjoon’s mouth worked silently for a moment, trying to produce actual words, and with a great effort of will he eventually managed to spit out, “You knew?”

Jin’s nose crinkled as he laughed in a kind of bewildered amusement. “About your allergies? Yeah, I’ve known for – well, for a long time. Did you think I didn’t?”

“How did you find out?” Namjoon sputtered. It was rare – quite rare – for him to feel so solidly behind in a conversation, but in this case, he was thunderstruck. Jin knew about his allergies? Had known for a decently long period?

Idly waving the knife as he thought, eventually Jin shrugged. “I think Hobi told me? I dunno, I’d kinda figured it out before then? I mean, I never once saw you watering the plants or even touching them, and there was that one day when it was windy and all the pollen was everywhere and you took a sick day…” He shrugged again. “Honestly Namjoon-ah, it wasn’t that hard to realize.” He smiled, his head tilting in inquiry. “What’s the big deal, anyways?”

“I – I…” Blushing furiously, eventually Namjoon said, almost reproachfully, “You’ve still been giving us flowers, though!”

Seemingly utterly unaware of the contradiction, Jin nodded without concern. “Yeah. I mean, I can tell you like them, even if you’re allergic. When we were studying at your place for the first time, you looked at them all the time, and you were smiling, so I thought it’d be nice to get a few more for you. And Yoongi-ah and Hoseok-ah like them too, so everyone was happy.” His smile abruptly became brighter. “That’s why I like flowers so much,” he said in the exact same confiding tone he’d used when they’d met the first time, months ago. “Because they make me and everyone else happy.”

Namjoon stared at him, took in the peaceful smile, the ridiculous apron, the mountain of food he’d built up on the counter behind him. “Oh, hyung,” Namjoon sighed, and though the other boy blinked, he made no comment. “What about asking me to go the Garden?”

“Oh. That.” Now it was Jin’s turn to blush – it was a rare thing to see him get red from anything but amusement – and he scuffed the kitchen floor with his foot several times before he brought his eyes up to meet Namjoon’s abruptly curious gaze. Blinking hard, hard enough to make his face twitch, he began softly, a little more self-mocking than he usually was. “The Gardens has a big greenhouse aside from the grounds, a place where you can buy a lot of different kinds of flowers. That’s where I’ve been getting all of the ones I gave to you guys. I thought…” Another few hard blinks, and he jiggled his head indecisively before seeming to decide to hurry ahead. “I thought it might be cute – that you’d like to go and pick one last one. You know, for yourself. Or that maybe… we could pick it together.”

And he looked so sweet, so abashed, and Namjoon’s chest was so, so tight, overburdened with an affection that was simultaneously too heavy and too light, all the pressure of a storm cloud mixed with the gossamer freshness of a light shower, and he inhaled once, a desperate, soundless gasp that helped to loosen his chest. Reaching out, he carefully took the knife from Jin, ignored the way it almost seemed to jump from his fingers because it landed with a clatter where he’d wanted it to, anyways. Then Jin’s slightly smaller hands were tucked comfortably in his own, and Namjoon was grinning, easily, and there was very little that was fierce about the emotions churning in his heart.      

“Of course we can pick it together,” he said, finding a sudden assurance in the warmth of Jin’s touch. “How else will I know which ones are hardest to kill?”

Jin’s smile was almost tentative (as close to tentative as he ever got), but when Namjoon gave his hands a gentle squeeze the expression became more pronounced, sincerer, with just a tinge of impish excitement. They stayed that way for a long moment, close but not quite brushing, connected only by their hands, and Namjoon would have been content to stay that way for at least an eternity if only a whining voice hadn’t broken in from the living room.

“Jin-hyung, we’re starving,” Tae complained. “When will supper be ready?”

Abruptly they were untangling their hands from each other, pulling at shirts that hadn’t been crumpled and smoothing hair that hadn’t been mussed. After a moment Jin picked up the knife again, shook it in the direction of the living room though no one in there would be able to see. “Dinner will be ready when it’s ready, you ingrates!” Jin called. “I slave all day to make you food and what does your hyung get? ‘We’re hungry,’” he mimicked in affront. “Oh, we want -”

“We’ll help you if you need it, hyung!” Abruptly Jimin was at the kitchen entranceway, beaming, and Taehyung and Jungkook crowded his ankles, all of their faces filled with a willingness that was probably too much to be fully true. Namjoon suspected they’d just already discovered the best way to stop their hyung from going on a full-scale lecture, but he was happy enough to lean on the fridge again and hope they ignored him.

Now that it had a distinct target, Jin’s knife waving became more energetic, almost to the point of being alarming. “Yah, you lot stay out of my kitchen!” he barked. “I already have a helper. Namjoon and I will get this ready, you just stay out of our way.” Exchanging glances that were definitely too close to smirks to be comfortable, all three of the dongsaengs inclined themselves in exaggerated, sweeping bows to both Namjoon and Jin before bounding away. Their snickers filled the living room, but it wasn’t exactly a bad sound, and out of sight, almost out of mind.

“Okay,” Jin said, abruptly all business, “let’s get to work. You can take over cutting for me while I get started on the sauce.” He left the knife on the board, and, caught off guard, Namjoon picked it up warily. Yoongi and Hoseok tended to do the cooking in their apartment when they weren’t living off packs of instant ramyeon, and he… was not entirely confident in his cooking skills. Giving a mental shrug, Namjoon was about to begin his appointed task when an abrupt and loud “-Wah!” right next to him almost made him cut off a finger. Jin was there, shaking his head and quickly getting behind him. “That’s not how you cut… well, anything, Namjoon-ah,” he said. “Here, let me help you.”

His arms settled around Namjoon, fingers resting lightly over his hands, and Namjoon could only credit his parents for raising him well enough that he was able to focus on the sharp blade in his hand instead of the warm body pressing against him from behind. Mostly focus. Pretty much focus. Jin’s hands were sure, guiding Namjoon through the motions with precision, and while Jin steered he talked, passionate and animated about all the ways you could prepare food. It was another special moment on top of an already impressive tower from today, and when Jin eventually broke away from him, Namjoon was too warm to be disappointed.

“Namjoon-ah?” Jin said, and, his eyes fixed on the roots he was now chopping properly, Namjoon made an inquiring murmur. “I just thought of something,” Jin continued blithely, his confidence apparently completely restored by working as Namjoon’s head chef. “We’re going to be picking out a flower together, right?” Now Namjoon did pause, glancing at him curiously. He had some vague notion of where this was going, but…

Jin’s smile was angelic. He proved Namjoon right a second later. “Does this mean we’re in a blossoming relationship?”          

#boy group writers net #bangtanwriters-net #bts #bts fic #namjin #namjoon #jin #yoonseok #yoongi #hoseok #everyone shows up #the maknae line are hooligans #but i love them #i love everyone in this fic

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #214

“The Gods Drop By, Lady Nessie”

-Below the two dragons there's a sudden explosion of noise, and the sunlight is blinding as it reflects off the desert around the Testificate city that's spread out in every direction-

[TLOT] Seems to come to life again and waves of energy wash over the group-

[Gk] The fuck?

[CP] Is gripping Lie close to himself-

[Lie] - CP...  It's okay, we're safe, calm down...

[Herabrine] This seed is almost as low res as my native one, where the fuck are we?

[Steve] My and TLOT's original home...

[Doc] Somewhere we'll get a decent welcome at least. And we're inside the server technically-

[Deer] - Oh dear...  I think I'm gonna get a headache...

[Doc] Motions to Gk and the two of them land in the main square of Kore-

-The fountain is still going strong and the offensive pods guarding it look well-watered and healthy -

-The Testificates aren't naked this time, but they are happy to see the parts of the group they recognize-

[Doc] Loafs so the others can get down if they want-

[Gk] Sits up so TLOT and Steve slide bumpilly off his back-

[CP] Slides down still holding Lie tightly-

[TLOT] dusts himself off and clears his throat - Loyal subjects... my people, - winks- we we're just passing through and decided to check on you all.

[Steve] Wades into the crowd. He's basically shaking hands and kissing babies like a seasoned priest .

[CP] Growls a little as some of the testificates get a bit close-

[Lie] - Shhhh, it's okay

[Sprlhm ad Cherie] Both approach and bow- It is an honor to see you all again-

[TLOT] I take it the renovations are coming along nicely?

[Sprlhm] We put our greatest artists to work here and then sent them around to other parts of the land to spread the word and make other monuments in far-away places.

[Deer] - These are your subjects TLOT?

[TLOT] A mix of beauty and usefullness?

[Cherie] As you requested, it is done.

[TLOT] Yes Deerheart. Since the destruction of my NOTCH, they've kind of adopted me. -chuckles-

[Sprlhm] humble smile- He is much kinder then even Jeb was to us.

[Gk] Makes a barfing sound-

[Deer] Growls a little at the mention of Jeb-

[Yaunfen] - Burp?

[Testificates] some bunch around Gk and offer him milk because now they think he's ill

[Gk] Shoo!

[Testificate children] A few are watching Yaunfen curiously-

[Doc] Curls hir tail around hir baby a little

[CP] Finally calms down a little so that he can shakily stand-

[Cherie] Is looking at Deerheart - Are you also a nature goddess like the great Lie?

[Deer] - A goddess?  No, I'm a server

[Testificates] Some bring chairs out and set them down for anyone who wants one-

[Cherie] Surely not? You are too graceful and lovely to just serve others!

[Deer] - Uh, no, I'm the land itself in a way, currently your world is housed inside of mine

[Cherie] Gestures for a Testificate who's loitering nearby, their robe has more then a few paint spatters - the words 'earth mother' are muttered quietly and the smaller Testificate is dismissed to run back towards the temple

[Doc] Is watching suspiciously but also keeping an eye on the children-

[Lie] Finally manages to disentangle herself from CP-

[TLOT] Takes a chair and centers himself, theres a bit of a rolling hush as the people feel a tiny ripple from his falling into allignment with the energy of his followers -

[Steve] Sees what he's doing- can I get a little...? -He makes an odd gesture at part of the crowd as if conducting a symphony-

-Testificates reach for their mates and children and hug them happily-

[TLOT] Smiles- feeling the warmth from their actions

[Steve] makes a sweeping gesture and several of the mal mal pairs take up martial stances while also holding their mates hands-

[TLOT] Adds the feeling to what he's brewing-

[Steve] sweeps his hands out flat as if sweeping everything off a table- -all the Testificates immediately  surrounding the group fall like dominos to their knees and stretch their hands toward their God, sitting placidly on the small chair with a beatific smile [Doc] Wow....

-As their hands touch the sandy ground there's a nearly visible flow of power that rolls up and crashes over the small group, washing them clean of the anxiety and fear that drove them here.

[TLOT] Takes the brunt of the wave and stands, turning it around like an Olympian casting a discus and letting it fly. The amplified wave swirls out like an explosion in every direction, even passing out of the desert and the forests beyond. -in its wake quite a few of the Testificates simply slump to the ground, loafing placidly with blissful expressions on their faces. Several of the pairs slip quietly away to make love to their partners

[CP] The wave of energy has an effect on him as well, but he's not quite ready to let his mate out of his sight-

[Lie] Moves around Doc, she gives a small laugh at the sight she see's, knowing TLOT's flair for the dramatic but wondering how the testificates knew what to do.  Her gaze then travels to the fountain, wanting to check on her offensive plants-

[Deer] At Steve- That was orchestrated beautifully Steve

[TLOT] Whispers to Deer- that's the secret isn't it? The Dom seems to have all the power, but it's the sub that truly leads the dance

-in the chat- he's here

-I know...

[CP] Frowns at the chat- TLOT...

[TLOT] I saw it...

[CP] - Can I kill it?  I could really use a killing about now

[TLOT] No... I think I know who it is. It's not an issue. The worst we'll get is a stern talking too by someone who can't injure without making physical contact

[CP] Scowls as he crosses his arms and leans against a wall, hiding himself in shadow-

[TLOT] in chat- would you like an audience my lady?

- ....-

-yes-

[Lie] - Lady?

[Deer] - Who are you talking to TLOT?

[Steve] Someone who showed us mercy a long long time ago..

[TLOT] The high priestess of NOTCH. The greatest glitch healer in this world.

[CP] Sputters a little- That bastard of yours still has followers!?

[Doc] Makes a haughty flop of hir hair

[Deer] - Perhaps only when Doc is not around

[TLOT] it's a spiritual thing, they worship the world itself. I think he rarely talked to them directly.

[Steve] Their altar is literally just a grass block on a nice table

[CP] - Laaaaaaaaaaame

[TLOT] Replies directly into Cps mind - she's he one that made Steve human again when he was stuck in he shape of a raptor

[CP] Grumbles and steps out into the sunlight, the light reflecting off of his armor- Still don't care TLOT

[Lie] Is focused on her offensive plants, giving each a touch- That's enough CP

[Doc] is basking in the sun- you should take off your armor Cp, this is the desert

[CP] - When has the heat ever bothered me?

[Doc] Okay, be a baked potato- Xe pffffs hir long purple tongue at him

[Lie] Spots Sprlhm and Cherie- Oh, I remember you two

[Sprlhm and Cherie] Both bow and the girl speaks first- would you like us to make up the room for you and your mate again? The furnishings were removed to make more room for all your sacred flowers

[Lie] - Oh no, that's not necessary, although my mate probably does need to relax a little

[Sprlhm] such a big strong man might need a bit of a nudge to help him... Relax

[Lie] - I'll let his thoughts calm first, he just was in a very stressful place

[Steve] overhears and brings Cp a chair, just setting it down next to him and walking away again

[CP] Kicks at the chair-

[Lie] Sighs- Hera?  Little help?

[Herabrine] What do you want me to do?

[Lie] - Well I suspect that he's going to set himself on fire soon, and your the best one to douse him

[Herabrine] oh I get to impress the masses? Can I have a water bucket?

[Lie] Spawns one-

[CP] - Don't you fucking dare

[GK] Plunks down and takes a nip from the bottle Sam gave him, several of the Testificates are watching him intently and at least three of them are sketching.

[Herabrine] Takes the bucket and sets it at her feet. - Then don't give me a reason to need it.

[CP] Is already smoking a little-

[TLOT] Force unequipts Cp's armor so he doesn't wreck it-

[CP] - HEY!

[TLOT] Cool down. You're gonna break something.

[Testificates] Small group- Should we fetch something to appease him Herobrine?

[CP] Is now on fire-

[Testificates] Back off hurredly-

[Herabrine] Conjures a tentacle of water from the bucket and uses it like a sponge to wipe the fire off Cp without soaking him-

[CP] - Stop that!

[Testifcates] Super impressed. A few of them clap-

[Doc] Good grief-

[Herabrine] Feels weird about people watching her with admiration and gets a bit red-

[Lie] Mischievously- Oh look, now they have a water goddess

[Testificates] Chat amongst themselves a bit and confer with TLOT quietly-

[TLOT] Yeah! Sure, I mean, if you really want too. We're heading out for a bit, but we'll be back in a few hours-

[CP] Flies upwards to sulk on a roof-

[GK] Anyone care if I head back? All this attention is a bit... wierd.

[Herabrine] Yeah, I'm with you....

[Lie] - Well, somebody should see if the others made it back there...

[Doc] Deerheart? Does your head still hurt?

[Deer] - Yes, I think it's a bit much being inside another server in our server that wasn't formed there if that makes sense

[Doc] I understand. Can you go with GK and take Yaunfen home?

[Yaunfen] Yawns and stretches-

[Deer] - Absolutely

[Deer] Creates an opening back to their server-

[Doc] Nicely done Love-

[GK] Squeezes through with Hera following him-

[Testificates] Quite a lot of rubbernecking to see where the sudden hole in space comes out at.

[Deer] Leads Yaunfen through, blowing Doc a kiss before she closes the opening-

[Doc] Is just plain happy and makes a smootch sound back at her-  There are assorted 'awwws' from the crowd.

[TLOT] So I take it you guys are going to accompany me? For safety of course?

[Lie] - If you want us to

[CP] - Do we have to?

[Lie] - CP!

[CP] - What?  Besides, your still wearing your gown from the fucking coronation!

[Doc] I'm sure we could find or make something else.

[Lie] - Yeah, that might be a good idea...

[Steve] Chats with some of the villagers and they rush off.

[TLOT] Calls after them- It needs to be warm!

[Testificates] return with a voluminious white robe, there's way too much fabric, but it does appear warm.

[Lie] - Ah, thank you- She accepts the article and turns towards CP- I'm guessing we're going somewhere cold, so you are coming

[CP] - Why!?

[Lie] - Because you're a space heater- She then asks for a place to change her clothes

[Two Testificates] Offer her their own house to change in, it's small but well-appointed.

[Lie] Smiles and accepts their offer, slipping inside to change-

[Doc] Remembers the box of chocolate that's still in hir inventory- Hey TLOT do you mind?

[TLOT] Go ahead, I think the children will be the most excited.

[Doc] Busys hirself making more boxes of chocolate and handing out the big red hearts to anyone who wants one.

[Lie] Returns now dressed in the robe, her flower crown in her hands- Much better

[Doc] Okay guys, pony up. This is no place I want to tp to directly- Xe hunkers down for hir riders -

[TLOT] Climbs onto Doc's head and stands on hir forhead in a slight crouch that would only be visible to an experienced player.

[Steve] Scrambes up behind him and clings in the doctor's mane.

[CP] Groans but flies back down to pick up his wife and place her on Doc's back-

[Doc] Gives a bit of theatrical roar and lets a little lighting spark around hir lips -

[TLOT] Stands perfectly still as the dragon jumps up into the air and runs across the invisible blocks as gently as if they were grass.

[Lie] Snuggles into CP, helping to calm him and keep him there-

- Down below the desert falls away and the land opens up wild beneath them. Forests roll by and hills rise and fall like waves. Flower forests giving way to spruce trees and broken stacks of moss cobbles. The air turns chilly and the dragon climbs higher as the moutains rise up in the distance. The air is crisp with snow and there's no sign of civilization anywhere-

[Steve] Feels the bite of cold and shivers at his own painful memories-

[TLOT] Merely grits his teeth and stays crouched and steady on the dragon's head

[Lie] Huddles closer to CP as he turns up his heat-

[Doc] Casts around and finally spots a temple, it's nearly hidden in the trees. Only the gleam on a large window in the uppermost floor gives it away. Xe angles down and lands in the snow, turning up hir own glitch as well.

[CP] - Pretty secluded...- He's on edge right now

[Guards] Brandish their spears and then slowly put them away at the sight of the newcomers eyes. One runs to get their mistress.

[TLOT] I see we're expected.

[Lie] - But probably not so many of us...

[Guard] Will you... come inside?

[TLOT] I have a better idea. Tell the lady we will meet her in the garden.

[Guard] Offended gasp-

[Lie] - Garden?

[Doc] Hops up onto the wall and runs along the freezing blocks looking for the opening TLOT is showing hir in hir mind. Finally dropping into a courtyard near the center of the temple-

-All around them are cheerie trees. Some so close they're twined together. The trees seem to be existing in different seasons entirely, with different colored grass blocks or podzol in their shade as well. Some are fruiting, others blooming or losing their petals and leaves-

[Lie] Is curious about the plants and slides down only to make distressed noises when she touches the snow-

[CP] Sighs and picks her up, keeping her out of the snow-

[Doc] These look like the two you and Steve brought in. But far more errored. I thought these people fixed glitches?

[TLOT] It's a zen thing for them. They appreciate a bit of harmless imperfection.

[Lady Nessie] Luckly for you. - The lady is wearing a long peasant dress in brown and green and the glittering Nether star Steve gave her around her neck. Her hair is very long and braided.

[CP] Turns towards the new comer-

[Lady Nessie] Wryly looks at Cp - Have you brought me others to be reset?

[TLOT] No. None of us are in need of healing

[CP] Growls-

[Lady Nessie] How formal, now that you don't need me.

[Steve] I'm sorry my Lady, why did you want to speak to us? We're not ungrateful.

[Lie] Is a bit distracted with all the flora around them as CP takes her closer to it-

[Lady Nessie] You killed him.

[CP] Puts Lie down- He was intending to kill my mate

[Lady Nessie] I implyed no judgement. It was a flat statement. I assume it was in self-defense? We know of the torment Herobrine endured at his hands.

[Doc] We were kinda pushed into doing it, Jeb threatened to delete the world if we didn't

[Lie] - I would have preferred to not have been involved...- She's gently touching the leaves of the cheerie trees

[Lady Nessie] At TLOT - Herobrine?

[TLOT] Yes?

[Lady Nessie] You have claimed the world. What do you intend to do with it?

[TLOT] Not much. Just try to keep it peaceful.

[Lie] - I think Markus would like this place if it weren't so cold...

[CP] - Why would you mention him?

[Lie] - Oh hush, he's your father, I think you'd be at least a little considerate as to what he thinks

[Lady Nessie] Goes still at the sound of the name- Markus?

[CP] - Fucking original Notch...

[Lady Nessie] I know that name... we do have some contact with the outside... the Jeb worshipers consider him a mystery. A name their god has only said a few times by accident, and refused to elaborate on.

[Lie] - That's because the two of them worked together to create everything, the NOTCH you knew was modeled after the original

[Lady Nessie] Then it is settled - she snaps her fingers imperiously and a monk runs to her with a bag.

[TLOT] Narrows his eyes suspiciously-

[CP] - The fuck are you doing?

[Lady Nessie] You will take me to him-

[CP] Starts laughing- Yeah right!

[TLOT] Don't laugh Cp.... what she knows is dangerous.

[Steve] Are you sure Lady Nessie?

[Lie] - You are aware that you'll be entering a place filled with Brines, correct?

[Lady Nessie] Challenge me and I will overcome it.

[CP] Stalks up to her- You, are not coming

[Lady Nessie] Yes I am.

[TLOT] Don't let her touch you Cp....

[Doc] You said she was a healer?

[TLOT] Works both ways Doc. A healing potion can kill an undead as easily as a harming potion can kill a human.

[CP] Is growling-

[Doc] If she wants to meet Markus, I don't see what the big deal is.

[Lie] - CP don't make me turn you into a cat again-

[CP] Moves to slap Nessie- You are weak!

[Lady Nessie] Moves like a snake, she intercepts his wrist and uses his own momentum and both her hands to twist his arm around and crunch it painfully out of socket at the elbow-

[CP] Grunts and growls some more-

[Lie] - CP!- Vines are creeping up to separate the two of them

[Doc] Holy fuck!

[TLOT] I warned you-

[Lady Nessie] Takes a martial stance and skips around to avoid the vines- You will take me.

[Lie] Is quickly at CP's side to check him over but he refuses to let her touch his injured arm-

[Doc] Pounces over and drags Cp and Lie back with hir paws. - Hold still Cp!

[CP] - FUCKER GET OFF!

[Doc] Snaps his arm back in place-

[Steve] Please don't fight!

[Lie] - This is my husband we're talking about

[TLOT] You can come Lady Nessie, but if you hurt my friends. You won't be coming back here. Or anywhere else ever again.

[CP] Is trying to kick Doc-

[Lady Nessie] thinking- You stole my god from me.

[TLOT] You knew what he was.

[Lady Nessie] Yes, but he was also all I had.

[Lie] - There are others!

[Doc] Is kicked but still manages to fix Cp's arm and lets go of him-

[Lady Nessie] My interest is in the original.

[CP] - If you try to corrupt him in any way...

[Lady Nessie] I am the opposite of corruption.

[TLOT] That at least is true.

[Doc] I don't care, I'm freezing. Lets go home-

[Lie] - I can agree on the freezing part

[Doc] Makes a portal into the cage.-

[CP] Carries Lie through but winces since his arm is still sore.  He speaks mentally to TLOT- We could just lock her in here...

[TLOT] Mentally- It's easier and more diplomatic to just let her talk to him. We'll wing it from there.

[CP] Is very unhappy as he puts Lie down-

[Lie] Looks up at her offensive pod up there and it lowers itself to greet her-

[Doc] Trots through the hole and closes it once they're all through. There's a bit of snow on the floor, already melting, and a scattering of petals from the cheerie trees.

[Lie] - Home again, finally

[Lady Nessie] Looks up at the pod. - Ah. The thing that brings the mating heat.

[Lie] - My defense mechanism, created when I wasn't exactly...  Stable mentally

[Lady Nessie] Interesting. You know the villagers worship you, don't you?

[TLOT] Well she did help kill NOTCH....

[Lie] - So we've been informed

[Lady Nessie] So what is the cat for?

[Lie] Giggles a little- Because that would be my husband

[CP] Growls-

[Lady Nessie] raised eyebrow- How... interesting.

[Doc] I'll meet you guys topside. I want to see who's around- xe hops up and clips up through the ceiling-

[TLOT] Come on then. - leads the way out

[CP] Glances at the lever which would lock the door as they exit the cage-

[Steve] Holds the door graciously for Lie-

[Lie] - Thank you Steve

[Lady Nessie] Picks up her dress hem as they walk through the cave. The Nether star around her neck gleaming brightly-

[TLOT] Emerges into the sun - So nice to be home...

[Lie] - I think I'll head inside and get changed

[Lady Nessie] Is our seed no longer your home?

[TLOT] It's a bit overwhelming being around my followers all the time.

[Steve] Yeah they're adults, we don't have to micromanage what they do.

[CP] - Can I go fucking kill something now?

[TLOT] Heads for Markus's house- Well we're gonna go see Notch, I guess if you don't want to come you don't have too...

[CP] Glares at Nessie and then grumbles before following them-

[Stevie] Is approaching Notch's place-

[Steve] Hi Stevie! Going to visit your dad?

[Stevie] - Gonna see if he wants to join Alexis and I for dinner

[Notch] Is sitting outside on the lip of Lie's fountain, he's idly feeding the three koi fish swimming in it.

[Lady Nessie] This is the house of a Notch?

[CP] - When the fuck did we get fish?

[Flux] Steps outside-

[TLOT] Oh, I brought them over. I wouldn't have made them if Lie hadn't described them to me.

[CP] Grumbles, but his bite is quickly fading as his shoulders are a bit more noticeably slumped and he's taking care not to move his injured arm much-

[Notch] Hi guys.

[Doc] Is perched on the roof. Just listening quietly-

-Lie's dogs are excitedly crowding the fence nearby-

[Lady Nessie] Hurries up to him and examines him closely. She reaches out for him suddenly and meets enough resistance to fall back-

[Notch] Who are you? Don't grab at me!

[Lady Nessie] I am your priestess. My monastary is dedicated to your worship.

[Notch] Um....

[Flux] Her eyes narrow a little-

[CP] - Meet your biggest groupie

[Lady Nessie] My people are ready to defend your eminence at every turn. They are deadly even without weapons and can sniff out glitches in the world wherever they may hide.

[Notch] It's not nesessary really....

[Flux] - He needs no other protection

[Lady Nessie] That may be, but we are loyal. We know now the NOTCH we followed was a pretender. We are ready to pledge ourselves to the true Notch.

[CP] - Yeah good luck with that

[Stevie] - Father, what exactly is going on here?

[TLOT] They're glitch-finders. They're frighteningly good at fixing world errors without using any admin functions. She did me and Steve a great favor once and requested an audience with Markus.

[Lady Nessie] Blasphemer!

[Notch] Don't talk to my son that way!

[Lady Nessie] Son?

[Flux] - Yes, these two here are his sons, and you will find it very difficult to separate him from them

[Lady Nessie] Thou art father to a... glitch? - she hesitates, thinking of the garden- Very well. No raking is complete without scattering a few blossoms behind you. I accept that the world father is kin to the god of war.

[Stevie] - God of war?  Brother what have you gotten yourself into now!?

[TLOT] At Stevie- He helped kill our NOTCH, the Testificates on my seed added him and Lie to their pantheon in gratitude.

[Stevie] Groans-

[Steve] You should see the stuff they made of me and TLOT....

[Stevie] - No thank you, I can hazard a guess

[Flux] Moves closer to Notch-

[Doc] Imagine the cover of any given romance novel, except Steve's the girl.

[Lady Nessie] Will you visit your temple at least my lord? Address your followers?

[Notch] Is unsure-

[Flux] - He needs not go anywhere!- Her energy is starting to destabilize a little

[Lady Nessie] Who are you to speak for him?

[Flux] - I am Flux

[Lady Nessie] And I am high priestess of Notch, Lady Nessie, the greatest of all the glitch-finders. If you challenge me in combat I cannot guarantee your survival.

[CP] - She's my and Stevie's original server, I think she's got you out classed

[TLOT] Maybe, but she can reset glitches. I have a suspicion that could actually kill anyone who's severely errored.

[Flux] - But I am not errored, I am the physical embodiment of raw magic

[Notch] Please don't fight!

-A few blocks  beneath Flux are beginning to turn purple-

[Lady Nessie] You smell of overflow... a corruption...

[Flux] - You should learn to hold your tongue!

[Stevie] - Father...  Maybe we should move elsewhere...

[Lady Nessie] As should you... - she sweeps her dress into a buckle so her legs are exposed.

[Notch] Notices the turning blocks and scurries back-

[Flux] The edges of her body are turning more mist like-

[Doc] Hey! Watch the blocks! You're making a mess!

[Lady Nessie] Is in a ready pose- If you dare...

[Flux] Is surprised and looks down- My taint...  It would appear my energies have become unbalanced again...

[Flux] Shifts into her mist form, revealing small sickly looking tentacles beginning to creep up out of the taint-

[Lady Nessie] Does a long cutting sweep with the small bit of white light that's around her hands. There's a low sucession of odd noises-

-The tentacles fall leaving small purple balls of goo-

[Lady Nessie] Does a series of quick hand movements that makes the balls despawn- Too cowardly to actually fight me?

[Flux] Appears behind Nessie- Who says I have not already started- She temporarily drains the magic from the Nether star around Nessie's neck

[Lady Nessie] Does a spin kick that connects with Flux, there's a loud noise like a computer modem dialing up as the energies collide.

[Flux] Stumbles back a little, her eyes briefly flashing with anger-

[Notch] Gets between them and holds out his arms - STOP! - There's a shimmer in the air and for a moment a bubble is visible protecting him and Flux.

[Flux] - Notch...

[Doc] I think that's enough....

[TLOT] Lady Nessie... he doesn't want to go with you.

[Flux] - Please, stand aside Notch...

[Notch] No!  I'm sorry you lost your NOTCH, but I'm happy here.

[CP] - Ha!

[Notch] Not helping.... I want to stay here with my sons. I don't have any interest in leading.

[CP] - Stop calling me that!

[TLOT] Shush Cp

[Lady Nessie] But Lord!

[Notch] No. I may visit if it's that important to you, but this is my home.

[TLOT] I think that's enough for now. Doc can you take her back home?

[CP] - Double ha!

[Flux] Is glaring at Nessie-

[Doc] Come on, we're all tired and it's obvious Markus isn't interested. I'll take you home.

[Lady Nessie] Glares at Flux - Fix my star you reprobate!

[Flux] - What use do you even have for such an item?

[TLOT] it's special, Steve gave it to her after she helped us. He and I slew that Wither ourselves.

[Flux] - Very well- Flux steps closer to the priestess, reaching for the star

[Lady Nessie] Watches her archly, her jealousy apparent

[Flux] Barely touched the item for the glow to return to the star- I can remove so much more just as easily

[Lady Nessie] Then it is a blessing that I have no magic for you to remove. My abilities are inborn and honed skills.

[Flux] - But can the same be said of the items which surround you?

[Lady Nessie] Shrugs- we are a religious order, the land provides much without alteration.

[Flux] Her form is becoming less defined-

[Notch] Takes her shoulder gently- Flux, please...

[Doc] Uses hir tail to move Nessie backwards -  time to go

[Flux] Turns towards Notch, her form solidifying again-

[Lady Nessie] Very well then. - she allows Doc to lead her and the two head for the entrance to the cave again.

[TLOT] Well that was stressful...

[Flux] - That woman... She, made me feel odd...

[TLOT] That's kind of an ugly emotion you were experiencing. It's called jealousy.

[Notch] Flux....

[Flux] - Jealousy?

[TLOT] It means you feel possessive of Markus. Maybe that's where Cp gets it from.

[Flux] - Possessive, such an odd feeling...

[Notch] feels rather flattered, - you're really special to me too Flux

[Flux] - Special?  I'm not sure I understand...

[Notch] I have... Lots of warm feelings for you.

[TLOT] mentally to her- he's falling in love with you Flux.

[Flux] - Warm feelings...  Love...

[Notch] Hears the word and blushes a little

[Flux] - I'm still learning more on this concept of love...  I know certain physical interactions are involved with it as well...

[Notch] You enjoyed our kiss, didn't you? You don't have to do anything with me that makes you uncomfortable...

[Steve] Aawwww a first kiss? That's so sweet

[Flux] - The kiss was enjoyable

[TLOT] Somehow I think he'd be up for another if you're willing

[Notch] TLOT!

[Flux] - You'd want another?

[CP] Is making gagging motions out of sight-

[Notch] stammers a bit- Anytime!

[Flux] Leans her head into her hand- Interesting

[Notch] Puts his hand on top of hers gently-

[Flux] Her expression relaxes as she's touched and she slips her hand out from under Notch's-

[Notch] Puts his other palm on the opposite corner of her face and gets on his toes to be a bit more level with her-

[Flux] Gives him a curious expression-

[Notch] Hesistates before kissing her gently on the lips-

[Flux] Returns the kiss a little-

[CP] Gagging noises-

[Notch] Pulls back a little to make sure Flux is okay with it.

[Flux] - It is enjoyable

[Notch] A little dazed with love's blush- Same here.

[CP] - Laaaaaaaaaaaaaame

[TLOT] Samples a bit of the gooiest feelings of love that Markus is having and transfers a bit of it to Cp so he can experience it for himself-

[CP] Glares at TLOT-

[TLOT] Looks innocent-

[theunwrittenones]

Prompt #3

„Dude, we are not asking the dragon for directions.”

“Dude, we`re not asking the Dragon for directions.” He slammed the warning down on her, like a sledgehammer to an anvil.

“Alright, alright. I got it, ok?” Ferroy brushed the dark leather-gloved hands off her collar and took a step back. It was bad enough that people talked about them already. A scene was the last thing they needed right now.

“Look Vince, it’ll be easy peasy lemon sqeezy, I tell you!” The bald man called Vince gave her a look, that told her exactly how not amused he was about her flippant attitude.

“Don’t yer fucking ‘Vince’ me, Roy!” He knew how much she despised it when he abbreviated her name like that. “Listen Girl, you go down that stinking hell hole of a dungeon and all sorts of crazy shebang is going to happen to you.” He couldn’t see her rolling back her eyes behind the giant brim of her hat, but he knew her to well, to pick up on it. “Roll those squinty balls back a little further and maybe, just maybe, you can see the sun shining in your arse!” He put his hands on his hips and averted his eyes.

She leaned in to him and spoke through gritted teeth: “Vince, do you think that I -of all people- don’t know how fucking dangerous that damn manor is?” He didn’t look at her, but ever so slightly shook his head. His skin was unnaturally pale, so that the red-brown scars, traced all over his face in their crisscross pattern, became even more obvious.

“I wouldn’t have accepted, if we had a darn choice, now would I? Guess what, dear brother, we don’t have a choice, not anymore.” Vince stared at the ground, as if he expected to find the right argument hidden between dusty wooden boards. She relaxed and put her hand on his shoulder. He wanted to do right by her, she knew. After all, they only had each other.

Their parents and friends were simply gone, devoured by the blight. Growing up in an orphanage was tough. The Mistress and Director had a deal with the local farmers, so they were raised in slave labor. Working children still were a viable currency back then.

The streets took them, as soon as their teenage years began to dawn. The unmitigated gateway to a life of crime and violence. Ferroy then, discovered her unhealthy affinity to knives. It didn’t take her long to work her first wet-job. In the beginning, she was sloppy. Her Targets got away sometimes and her clients tried to ditch her on occasion, but she was a quick learner. Vince on the other hand had a nag to acquire all sorts off dangerous friends. Often the wrong types of people in wrong types of places, but always high up in rank and unhinged in all the bad ways.

Their wild years began shortly after they carved a market for themselves. Leviathan Bay was a candy store and no one said no to the ‘Grimm Twins’. One slip up, however, is often enough to send your luck straight down the toilette bowl.

Ferroy owed money. To the wrong people. People introduced to her by Vince.

“You’re right.” Vince wiped invisible mud off his face. “Of course, you’re right. Just promise me, don’t do anything rash!”

She shrugged: “You know me.”

“Damn right, I do.” His tempered flared up again, but he fought it down.

“The bastard is here, brace yourself.”

An incredible fat man made his way through the crowd. His gestures, as he greeted several townsfolk, were relaxed and aloof. Rakash-Tai Vun, ‘caretaker’ of most known and unknown gambling houses in Leviathan Bay, effortlessly split the groups of people that stood in his path. It took him a few moments to spot them, but when he did, a smile began to crack his face.

Talking to Rakash was every bit as disgusting and loathsome, as she imagined. Even now, Ferroy felt ice sliding down her bare back. There were the usual threats of skinning and bone breaking, of course. Talk that seemed to come so natural to people with deep confidence issues. However, the price to pay was much steeper this time around. The way he looked at them made her knife hand itch. ‘Forced employment’ was the term, Rakash used. Vince, despite all that, kept his head cool. He never apologized or begged. He simply offered the plan Ferroy had pushed on him earlier and wrapped it up like the deal of the century. Rakash took the bait. He knew the risk, but craved the reward even more. Their debt was mere formality to him, but meant all to them. Now, there was a unique opportunity, each man of the business dreamed about.

She departed to her very probable doom around noon the next day. Leviathan Bay was but a speck in the distance. A grey wound in the spotless golden fields behind her. In front of her rose the ‘Chocking Hills’. Covered almost to completion with thick forest, that held bandits at best and unspeakable horrors at worst. There was however, an upside to her situation. Her two traveling companions were over all quite pleasant. There was almost no talking. Their only exchanges were social grunts, when task needed to be performed or hand signals, when they were hunting and navigating.

It took them the better part of the afternoon to arrive at their destination, the serpentine, narrow path up to ‘Raven Barrow’.

Never had her eyes seen more dilapidation then here. Corpses, bloated out of proportion by unknown diseases, littered the streets. Nearly all houses appeared to be caved in and inhabitable. Gallows hung right in front of her, holding lifeless forms gently swaying from the tireless arm of the giant scaffold, built in the town square. There was madness in the serenity of this horrific landscape. From the farmstead to her left emanated a sick purple glow. She knew it to be there, because of the stories she heard when she was quite young. Something from the depth of the ‘Wailing Forest’ took quite literally roots there. Last but not least, the manor house itself. Its quite, ominous presence overshadowed the whole of ‘Raven Barrow’. Built on the highest location just outside of town. Like a dark sentinel, always watching. Ferroys heart took a dive into her stomach. The pure rawness of death all around almost made her dizzy. Her two companions urged her forward and she was glad they did, for she wasn’t sure what she would have done. Her instincts screamed flight, but flight was not an option.

So she braced herself, for there was only one way to go…

“We are not asking the dragon for directions!” Jimmy says. I loath him for being a coward. Being a coward myself, naturally, I don’t say anything. Instead I step back, out of the streetlight and closer to the forest. The ‘dragon’ was the one that yelled insults at us, but Jimmy had been stupid enough to reply. We’d almost made it home after our D’n’D session at Kim’s.

“This isn’t D’n’D, Jimmy.” Mona says and pushes her elbow into Jimmy’s side. Mona is fierce. One day I want to have the courage to ask her out. I could take her up the mountain and map out constellations at night. I think she would like that.

“This isn’t D’n’D, Jimmy.” Our enemy grunts and his friends join the laugher. Wonder who the ‘dragon’ is? It’s George the dumbest and meanest guy from school. Walking cliché and quarterback of our school team the ‘Mighty Smallville Dragons’.

Finally, Mark, our Dungeon Master each Friday night and king of the nerds (he gets beaten up the least at school), steps forward.

“We don’t want any trouble.” Mark says, and George cocks his head like he’s just warming up. Mark is tall, but in a stretched out lanky way. He doesn’t stand a chance. George and his friends laugh. There’s us, Mark, Jimmy, Mona and I. Four nerds against four of the dragons. They are going to beat the shit out of us.

“Fucking dumb asses.” George says and lets his fist crack against Jimmy’s head. Jimmy goes down like he rolled a critical one.

“No!” I shout and step forward on impulse. I’m next. My lip splits when George’s fist collides. My hand goes up to my jaw on instinct and warm blood spills into my mouth. It dribbles down my chin as I stagger back. I feel around my teeth with my tongue. My incisor cut into my cheek, but all my teeth are okay.

“Shit. What the hell is wrong with you?” Mona aims at George and the dude is too surprised or too dumb to move. She bitch-slaps George. I’d swoon if I weren’t occupied with the pain in my face.

“You’ll regret this.” George says. “Cunt.” He adds, and I see how Mona’s face scrunches up in anger.

“We gotta run!” Jimmy says. I grab Mona by the elbow. Jimmy helps Mark back to his feet. George looks like he might murder Mona. You don’t hit girls. Maybe George abides to that rule, but better not risk it.

“God, I wish we could do something against that guy. He’s such a dick.” I exclaim, when we’re far away from George and his cronies, close by my house.

“What happened to you, Andy?” My mom asks when she opens the door. I’m dragged into the kitchen, where she and grandma make a fuss. Grandma dabs my lip with something that makes my eyes water.

“Was it that big boy George Miller?” Mom asks, but I shake my head. I’m not a traitor. Guess the heat in my cheeks is telling enough.

“You know how those dragon guys are.” I say, and my Mom puts a band-aid on my face. Come Monday, let’s hope I’m all healed up. I don’t want to look like a total looser at school. Mom steps away from me and gives me a worried look. I’m glad Dad is still at work, because he would be angry at me for not fighting back. Dad was never a nerd, he was one of the cool kids. He’ll never understand.

“They are bullies.” Grandma says. “When you’re ready, come upstairs. I have something to show you.” She adds with a sad smile. Avoiding eye-contact, Mom and I exchange a few platitudes about how our day was, before I head upstairs. I scratch at the congealed blood that dribbled down my neck. Yelling for Grandma I follow her voice into her bedroom. I’m never in here, it’s too stuffy and just like I don’t want Grandma to invade my privacy and hang out in my room, I never stay long in hers. She’s sitting at her dresser, the yellow lamp light smooths out her wrinkles. Something glistens in her palm.

“Take it!” She says when I reach her. I look at it, it’s a small green carving of a dragon. Too heavy to be plastic. There’s a hole going through its middle, like you are supposed to wear it on a chain around your neck.

“It’s made from jade.” She explains. “Your Grandpa brought it back after ‘Nam.” She says.

“Uh, thanks.” I say, unsure what to do.

“Your Grandpa said it was for protection.” She says and folds her hands over mine to wrap around the jade dragon. Her hands are wrinkled and dry, but warm.

“I think you should have it.” She says and I pocket it.

“Thanks, Grandma.” I want to turn around and leave, but Grandma stops me with a hand to my forearm.

“You’re a good boy, Andy. I just wished you would believe in yourself.” I swallow hard. Suddenly I feel not only embarrassed, but crushed. It’s like she can look right behind my eyes and into my thoughts.

“Promise me, next time you and your friends meet the Miller boy you’ll try to talk to him.” Grandma continues and lets go of my arm.

“There’s no point talking to them. They’ll- you know how they are- they’re-.” I stop and she finishes for me: “They’re violent. At least, I can tell you this: high school doesn’t last forever. Once you went to college, and Miller and his friends are still stuck in Smallville, you’ll have the upper hand. And because you’re you, you won’t hold it against them.” She says it with a fond smile, that makes me look at my shoes.

“I think I understand.” I mumble, without looking up.

“Good night, Andy.” Grandma says.

Lying awake for at least an hour, I imagine all the things I could have said to George Miller to keep him from hitting my friends, but every time it ends the same: I am the one that gets beaten up, even more than today. Curled into a tight ball, I stare into the darkness. All the other guys at school make fun of me too, even the girls. They always find a reason: my glasses, my fat ass, the cheap T-shirts my Mom buys me. Every time their jabs hurt just as much as a physical beating. There are tears in my throat. Gulping, I remind myself that I am too old for crying.

The moonlight glistens on the little jade dragon I put on my night stand. It’s cool to the touch and I curl my hand around it in a tight fist and press it to my chest. It calms be down, I think, but maybe I am just exhausted. I’m so, so tired. The stone warms to my touch until it becomes a pinpoint of fire. The dragon is scourging my chest, but after all, I am only dreaming.

I wake up and double over coughing. The smell of smoke clogs up my lungs. I take a deep breath, arch my back. Fire, I think, and jump to my feet. There’s a fire in the house. The jade dragon falls to the floor with a clink. I’m halfway down the steps, before I realize the smell of smoke is gone. Maybe a remnant of a dream. Slower, with my heart beating fast in my eardrums, I walk down the rest of the stairs.

The TV‘s on mute in the living room. I expect my Dad to be sleeping on the couch (he doesn’t like to wake up Mom in the middle of the night). But Dad isn’t there. There’s noises coming from the porch. Following the commotion, dread drops into my stomach. My parents are outside, talking in hushed voices with our neighbor through the fence. Grandma is probably still sleeping upstairs. Dad has his arm slung over Mom’s shoulder and she’s huddled close.

The wood creaks under my feet. Their heads turn. My neighbor says his goodbyes and vanishes back inside.

“Go back to bed, Andy!” Dad tells me, but my eyes find Mom’s.

“What happened?” I ask.

She shakes her sleep tousled head. “There’s been a fire in town.” She stops, swallows, like she needs to find the right words first: “George Miller’s house burned to the ground.” She finally settles for the truth.

I feel an odd and disconcerting mixture of fear and excitement trickle down my spine.

“Is he dead?” I ask and hold my breath. My lungs feel hollow, like someone scooped them out like ice cream with a big spoon. Dad clears his throat. Mom pushes out of his embrace.

“He’ll know from the newspapers anyway.” She says. “George, his parents and his little sister Jody didn’t make it out alive. The smoke suffocated them, before the fire reached the upper level of their home.” I immediately wonder if they woke up first and weren’t able to get out of the house.

“The firemen came in too late.” Dad explains. After I say nothing for several seconds, he asks: “Son, are you okay?”

I nod, but it’s automatic.

“I feel- I feel sorry for them.” I stutter, cross my arms around my chest.

“Go back to bed! Try to sleep if you can!” Mom says and steps closer. She wants to hug me, but I step out of her reach. It feels like her touch would burn me to a crisp.

“Sorry.” I mumble. “Good night Mom.” I say and exchange a look with my Dad, before I turn on my heals and go back inside. In my room I close the door behind me and lean against it for a moment. I try to take even breaths, but it doesn’t work. George was a bad guy, a bully, a total dickhead, but him and his whole family didn’t deserve to die.

There’s something on the edge of my awareness that comes into focus now. A small stabbing pain right in the middle of my chest where the breastbone is. As I think about it the pain intensifies. My hand is shaking as I inspect my shirt. There’s a burn mark right where I pushed the jade dragon against my chest.

“Shit.” I cuss and repeat the words so much it becomes a litany. I stumble over to my wardrobe and open the doors to look at my reflection. I look like a wax puppet. My skin’s shiny and sweaty. My mouth snaps shut. With clammy fingers I lift my shirt. It drops to the floor and I see the red burn mark on my chest. The skin is alleviated where the jade dragon touched down. On closer inspection I can see that the outline of the dragon is drawn in red angry lines, like it literally burned my skin away. It’ll scar. It’ll stay for everyone to see. I gulp. It’s evidence of what I did. Whatever my Grandpa brought back from Vietnam is dangerous. It killed George and Jody and their parents.

I search for the dragon. It fell under my bed. It’s no longer calm and cool, but hot. I close my fist around the pendant. With my eyes shut, I am certain it pulses in sync with my own heart beat. For a moment I feel like I am the one in control for once in my life.

I take the hike up to the mountain, the jade dragon sleeps in my pocket. All thoughts of taking Mona up here are pushed aside. I need to see with my own eyes. I looked at George’s house on Google Maps. It’s one of those two story block buildings, unspectacular, except it wasn’t the only one like it build in that street. After checking the weather and reading up on how fires develop and behave under certain conditions, I am certain the other houses should have caught fire too. Additionally, it had been a fairly stormy night. From up here I can see the building. It’s easy to find among the strong colors of spring. The Miller house is a black burned hole. I got my binoculars with me. I check the surrounding ground. Not even the grass around the building is burned or the least bit dried out, but lush and green. It’s like the fire came from inside the walls itself.

It’s a curse, is it not? I try flinging the jade dragon down the cliff. I don’t want it anymore. But it stays in my palm like it has been glued to it. The whole next week I attempt to get rid of the damn thing. But it’s no use. I thought about giving it away as a gift, because that is how I got it from Grandma, but I can’t do that to the bullies at school, least of all my friends. A rumor starts, about me paying someone of the dropout kids in town to burn down George Miller’s building. I try laughing it off, but to my own ears it’s a bitter laugh. Guess the others know I had something to do with the fire one way or the other. Even my friends start avoiding me after a while. Maybe they can sense something isn’t right with me. For a while, things stay quiet. Soon the kids at school forget the whole affair and George Miller becomes an anecdote, nothing more. That’s how the bullying starts up again.

It’s not the same. The fire changed something inside of me. The night of the dragon let me get my revenge on George. This time, when someone tries to get under my skin, I know what I can do to make them regret it. The worst thing is that I like the thought. I like the idea of power. I don’t know what the dragon can do. But the bigger question is what I am capable of. That scares me most of all. Grandma was wrong, I am not a good boy. I’m afraid one day I’ll have enough. I’ll snap and use it again on someone else. I fear for that day to come.

„Dude, we are not asking the dragon for directions.”

“But it’s so cute and fluffy.”

“Are you out of your mind? It’s huge. Has scales and fucking spits ice.” My friend hissed under his breath, pointing with his swords towards the beast.

In between the tannin-brown forest, the icy-blue dragon wasn’t able to hide very well. The grass was crisp under my feet. I looked up and the trees were skyscraper tall, reminding me of home. My view went between my friend Leroy and then back to the dragon. The beast really looked cute, with round little ears and blue sparkling scales. Maybe he was not fluffy but I knew deep down, that this dragon had to be a good guy. Someone we could trust. You just had to look at those feline eyes, they were gleaming with cunning and somewhat kindness. He wasn’t aware of what would come for him. It made me trust him on the spot.

“I’ll go talk to him.” I let my companion know. Hands traveling down to my battle-ax. “You think I should leave my ax here? It would show I come in peace. He might not attack me right away.”

“Kane, if you leave now I’ll go back to the tavern and spend my coin. You’re not a dragon, you’re human and dragons eat humans for breakfast. They don’t care if you carry a weapon or not. They attack.” Leroy pointed out.

“Don’t worry friend, I used my last skill point to level up on the skill Animal-friend and, may I remind you, that I was raised by a dragon.”

Leroy sighed heavily. “Animal-friend means you don’t scare rabbits or chickens easily, but I highly doubt that a dragon will not attack you due to that skill.”

“I was raised by a dragon.” I pointed out again to make my point. The delicate creature would not attack one of their own children.

“You were not raised by a fucking dragon. You had human parents as I did.”

“Never met my parents, have no memory of them. I was raised by a dragon. If you would read all the documents we find along our adventures and not skip them, you would know that there was an unnamed young boy in Themar Land, who was saved by magicians from a fierce dragon… and turns out in other letters that this boy was raised by the dragon. They took the boy against his will and slaughtered the pure creature for nothing.”

“And how are you sure it was you? Was your name written down?” Leroy wanted to know, looking at the dragon, afraid we might catch his attention with our banter.

“I can’t be sure, but as you’ve might noticed, I have a pretty big scar on my shoulder and … that’s proof.” I said, opening my mouth to say more before closing it again. Damn, I needed better arguments to prove my point of being dragon-raised to convince him. Did being pretty sure about it count as proof?

“Okay” Leroy rolled his eyes, clearly avoiding the topic now and trying to find a solution. He eyed the dragon more than once, unsure if we’d drawn his attention already but I was sure we hadn’t crossed the checkpoint yet and that’s why the ice-spitting dragon hadn’t moved yet.

Leroy looked at me, raised eyebrows, sword in hand. “So, what are we gonna do? We can stand here and hide, but then we won’t find the treasure and you know I want the treasure. I need to find it and I can’t do this without you.”

“I know, that’s why I’m gonna go and talk to him. Dragons are a million years old, he has to know something about the hidden treasure of Themar Land.”

“This still does not solve our problem, even if he wouldn’t turn you into an ice statue, you can’t talk Dragon.”

“Duh, I leveled my language skills too.”

Leroy’s lips pressed into a white slash. “Yeah, for human language and that upgrade means that it’s easier for you to get information from humans, not freakin’ dragons.”

I shrugged. My shoulders lowered and I crossed my arms. Maybe he had a point but we needed to make a decision quick.

“Guys!” The voice from the Gamemaker blurted into my ears through the tiny intercom. “Make a decision or you’re out of the game!”

This whole situation Leroy and I were stuck in didn’t seem to look good on TV. The ratings weren’t rising like the producers wanted to. They needed more action. That was getting them great ratings, it was the reason I started to watch it and applied to be part of too. Action, slaying dragon, fighting aliens or battleships -whatever the setting, it always involved fighting.

Leroy and I nodded. We didn’t want to be cut.

“Like it or not, I’ll try talking to him, when I die you have to go and find the treasure without me. You chose the skill Death-From-Above and Lightfoot, that-”

“Landing safely when jumping from higher grounds won’t help me when this thing attacks.” Leroy snapped.

Maybe he was right, the dragon was huge but asking him for directions seemed to be a good way to get ahead of the competition. I was sure no one else was so smart about it.

I was going to do this. Although Leroy had taken some of my confidence away, I kept the battle-ax with me just in case things went south. I didn’t want to die so early in the game.

The grass was crunching lightly under my boots when I moved forward. I was amazed, that even though I knew this was just Virtual-Reality-TV, I was nervous. My heart rate was going up, my hands were sweating and the closer I moved the bigger the dragon got. When crossing the checkpoint the dragon started to move. He spread his wings, sending icy wind towards me. The air was shifting and I saw my breath coming out of my mouth. My hands started shaking, it was suddenly so cold and I had trouble standing straight.

When the dragon spotted me, he growled. The ground was trembling. I lost my balance.

“I’m Kane. Son of the dragons.” I yelled. The dragon looked at me. A smile crept up my piercing cool face, before the dragon opened his mouth. He spilled ice, not words. The icicles flew through the air, cut into my skin and split painfully through my heart.

My sight faded, everything went black.

#writing prompt #short story