#and even then i probably will not be given all the answers

[justwonder113]

Head over heels - Lee Know

Warning: Mentions of drinking, Minho is a bit tipsy but he's sober by the end of it. Rader is getting hit on by some weird dude. Slightly suggestive at the end. Minho is staring at the reader's chest. GN reader. Not proofread. Please tell me if I missed anything

Masterlist

A/N- I'm finally back!! Thankfully I got over the virus and more than dedicated to write as much as I can. I have many ideas and can't wait to write all of them. Thank you for all the love and support you've given me it truly means the world to me. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. If you have any requests too feel free to do so. Take care of yourselves, love you all❤️

When is the right time to say that you're head over heels in love with someone? Perhaps when they do something really romantic and/or selfless. Something probably really kind and generous, something really cool... Probably not when they are dazed from having a bit too much to drink and look like they are about to fall asleep any given second now, right? Yup, you were definitely weird, probably the main reason you and Minho clicked this well. Okay in your defense you knew you were smitten with him for a while, it just downed on you though how down bad you actually were.

Really though. To think that you would realize that you're in love with your best friend when his like anywhere but this world is beyond crazy, even for you.

"Pretty boy do you want me to bring you some water?" You asked after seeing him blink slowly yet another time. You were at this club Hyunjin had invited you at. The music was blasting on the full volume and everyone was having the time of their life, well maybe except you and Minho. Normally you would be also be having fun with your friends but now everything felt a bit dull. Maybe because you didn't drink anything. You had bad flu earlier and you just didn't feel like drinking today. As for Minho, normally the drinks didn't get to him that easily, but he wad been overworking himself a lot lately and due to the fatigue even such small amount of alcohol as two or three shots got to him pretty easily.

Looked at you with dazed eyes for a second or two, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Something glimmered in his already sparkly eyes and he gave you a small smile. God, he looked so squishy and cute like this you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Not that you would, he had this tough persona to keep. Also not to sound weird but you didn't want others to notice how cute he was. Let's just say you wanted to gatekeep him for yourself.

After Minho gave you a small nod you got up and headed to the bar. There were a lot of people in line so you would probably have to wait quite a while to get something as simple as glass of water. You texted Minho that this could take a minute or two and started waiting for your turn. Meanwhile from the corner of your eye you saw someone shamelessly check you out, like, could they be any more obvious about it? You prayed that he wouldn't approach you while you also crossed your fingers for the bartender to hurry up. You decided to ignore it. You didn't see anything.

Unfortunately your prayers hadn't been answered, the sleazy man decided to approach you, honestly the audacity some people had. You tried to keep your distance but it was all in vain. The man stood in front of you now. He even made a show of slowly checking you out. God what a pig. You really tried your best to compose yourself, you really didn't need to make a scene now.

"Hello. Gorgeous can I buy you a drink?" God even his voice was so annoying. You reminded yourself that you needed to keep calm. With the most polite voice you could muster you answered that you were good and that you were with someone. But the dude still kept pestering, making your blood boil even more. Who the hell did he think he was? You had enough of this, you were about to warn him that you would call the security on him, when hands wrapped around you. You stiffened for a second, but relaxed when you noticed that it was Minho. The strange man grumbled. "Shit, boyfriend of yours?"

Minho answered before you could, his hands tight around your waist, his glare cold as ice. "Yes, now fuck off." The man was about to argue but Minho's death glare shut him up quickly. The man slithered away to disturb someone else you guessed.

You turned your full attention to Minho, who kept hugging you and now had rested his head on your shoulder. He still felt sleepy you guessed. "You took too long." He grumbled after a few seconds of silence. You turned your head and kissed the top oh his head. Minho grunted again. "Sorry pretty boy. Let's get you that water." You took a step towards the bar but Minho stopped you.

"Don't want it anymore."

You fully turned to Minho and started closely examining him, his face was unreadable though.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Just tired. Can I stay at yours?" You thought for a minute jokingly which Minho didn't really appreciate which he showed by softly pinching your side. Really, what was up with him being all cute today? You couldn't help yourself and you gave him a little peck on his cheek.

"Sure." Minho didn't say something, and you couldn't read anything on his face. He held his hand towards you and after you held it he started leading you to others so that you could say your goodbyes.

The walk to your house wasn't long. You appreciated the comfortable silence between you two. It was peaceful. You also loved how extra protective Minho was over you, he didn't let go of your hand whole way. Your heart felt like it would burst from joy.

You sighed in relief once you walked into the safehold of your house. It felt so good to be home. Like the two youthful people you were you immediately started getting ready for bed. You of course on top that pestered Minho to drink plenty of water before going to sleep. You didn't want him to wake up with a hangover. Surprisingly he was being obedient. You also couldn't help but admit that sleepy Minho was absolutely adorable. To you he just looked so soft and squishy all you wanted to do was to cover his whole face with kisses.

You tried to get ready for bed as fast as possible, but the chains you had worn today didn't really let you. They managed to get stuck and you didn't really feel like going to sleep in them. So you turned to Minho who laid across on your bed. Diagonally like a sweet person he was. He had changed into the sweats and oversized shirt he had left at your house but as it seemed he got lazy to get under the covers. "Min can you help me with these?" You asked sweetly as possible. Minho didn't answer and you thought that he fell asleep again laying diagonally on your bed, but he got up after a couple of seconds. He looked at you with unimpressed eyes waiting for you to ask what you wanted. You motioned towards your bundled up chains. Minho grumbled again but immediately started working on it.

The chains were more tangled up than you could imagine. Minho kept grumbling about how he should just snap them but still kept deligently working through every knot. You had no idea how did they get so tangled up on your neck. You got curious on what was taking so long and looked down and only when did you notice that upper buttons were open and you were showing quite a decent amount of cleavage. You felt shy for a second but then as if on cue you noticed how Minho's eyes kept shifting down towards your exposed skin. Let's just say it was a nice ego boost. Subtly as possible you even straightened up a little so you could show off your assets better. You didn't know if Minho knew you did that on purpose but his eyes sure did appreciate the sight. You didn't even realize you were staring at him, before he looked up and your eyes met. Suddenly you felt lost at words. How was he so gorgeous? You could only gulp and just stare at him.

"I did it." He spoke calmly as he placed your chain on your hands. "I think I know how you should thank me." Was it you or was he really close? You could even feel his breath on your skin. Your eyes couldn't help but shift fom his eyes down to his pretty lips. What were you even doing? Minho noticed your wandering eyes, his gaze also shifted down to your lips.

His finger touched under your chin and slowly lifted your face so that you were eye to eye again.

"What do you have in mind?" You found your voice after a few long seconds of being rendered speechless.

"I want to kiss you so bad." Minho's confession sent shivers down your spine. Good thing that you were sitting on your bed, you felt like you would fall otherwise. You felt like fanning yourself, your whole body felt so hot.

"What's stopping you then?" You quipped back, he was so close now with each breath your lips slightly grazed each other.

"Nothing." His voice was raw with emotion. You didn't even get to say anything, his lips were on you in matter of milliseconds. The kiss was raw, passionate. It ignited you, you felt alive now that you had the taste of his lips. It was everything and so much more, it was like he tried to convey his feelings with this kiss.

Guess you were not the only one head over heels for the other.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee know #lee know fanfic #lee know fic #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #lee know skz #lee know stray kids #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #leeknow #lee know x gn reader

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Healer pt 3

The story continues! Hope you guys like it!

Part 1 and 2 linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

The Hero’s party stood with their backs to us, arguing loudly. They obviously didn’t hear Stephanie’s call, and kept their focus on the man in front of them.

“How dare you go back on our deal?!” Jack the Hero snapped, his face twisted with rage. “You have always been our chief supplier!”

Rita the Holy Archer spoke up, flipping her long blond hair over her shoulder as she did so. “Yeah, you never turned us down before!”

The massive and imposing form of Garrett the Giant loomed over the group as he stood by with his arms crossed, nodding in agreement. The fourth and final member, Rebecca the Sorceress, leaned against the Hero, her eyes filled with tears as if everyone in the room had personally wronged her.

Seeing the group together again was… rough, to say the least. I had once considered three of them, Jack, Rita and Garrett,  my closest friends. We had played the game together before the Downfall, spending late nights going on raids and completing quests. They had been the brightest part of a life that had been greatly overshadowed by my parents’ expectations and disapproval. I had valued their friendship, so much so that I was willing to break myself over and over again just to stay by their side. I had lied to myself, that I was just as much a part of the team as they were. That I was valued, even if they didn’t always say so. That I was lucky to have them, given that I had chosen the class I did. I hated myself for my weakness, but refused to leave, too dependent on them to try to break off on my own.   

Until Jack finally betrayed me enough to wake me up to the truth:

They had never been my friends.  

As for Rebecca… my gaze settled on the pitifully crying girl. She was crying when I met her, too.

______________________

“Healer! Help! I have an injured person here!” At Jack’s frantic cry, I forced myself awake and ran out of my house, surprised to see him carrying a young, beautiful woman. Her face was unnaturally pale, her red hair matted with blood, stuck to her forehead. Her clothing was scorched in several areas, making her seem even more pitiful. I paused for a moment, feeling a brief discomfort at the sight of Jack holding her with a tenderness in his eyes I had never seen before.

We were not a couple. He had hinted his interest several times, but we had agreed to wait until the world was more stable before discussing it deeply. I wasn’t sure of my own feelings, having always considered him a good friend, but I knew that in the midst of a life or death battle was probably not the best time to give a real answer. Jack hadn’t been happy with my response, but said he understood. He hadn’t brought it up again, but the sight of his distress for the woman in his arms made me wonder if I had his answer.

Either way, it was no time to work out my feelings on the matter. I pushed away the flash of unease at the two’s closeness and stepped forward to look at the young woman. She flinched away from my gaze, her teary eyes looking up at Jack.

“Don’t bother your friend! I just need a potion and I’ll be fine.”

Jack smiled at her. “Nonsense, you fainted just a minute ago. The Healer may be useless in a fight, but she can do targeted therapy for whatever injuries you have.”

I winced at the word “useless”, a term I was all too used to from my childhood.

“Wait!” Rather than being comforted, this seemed to distress the young man more. She struggled slightly, seeming unable to free herself from Jack’s hold. “I don’t…”

I lost patience, and reached out my hand, putting it on her forehead.

“Scan.”

**The Healer has activated Scan -20MP. Target is not in your party and some information is withheld.

Rebecca the Sorceress

Class –Magic User

Title – Sorceress, Magic Student, Dependent, Poison Master.

Level 56

HP 209/250

MP 280/300

STR ***

DEX ***

INT ***

WIS ***

CHAR ***

Current status: Charm applied + 50 Charisma – 1 hour remaining.

Healing status – mild abrasions to forehead, right elbow, and anterior thigh-  10 sq centimeters total surface area.  First degree burns – dorsum of foot, and right wrist – 5 square centimeters total surface area. Mild poison toxicity – side effects include pallor, diaphoresis and generalized weakness. – 10 minutes remaining. **

I frowned as I read through the information. Jack quickly began asking questions.

“How bad is it, Healer? Will she be all right? You can fix it, right?”

“Some scrapes and mild burns, no worse than a sunburn, just needs her wounds dressed and some ointment for pain and to prevent infection. How did she get poisoned?”

“Poisoned?” He brought her into my house and set her down on my bed. “She wasn’t poisoned, she was protecting a family from bandits.”

I shrugged, getting out supplies and carefully cleaning and dressing her injuries. “The scan says she was poisoned, probably about an hour ago judging by the remaining cooldown. Nothing bad, just something that would make her pale, sweaty and weak.”

Rebecca began crying loudly as I finished bandaging her. Before I could react, Jack pushed me out of the way, leaning over to check on her. I slammed by back into the dresser, groaning with pain as it struck.

“Did she hurt you?!” He asked Rebecca, frowning as he looked over her bandages. 

She blinked back tears, regaining control of herself. “I’m sorry, I was just so worried… The way she said it… it sounds like she’s accusing me of taking poison on purpose!”

I gingerly stood up, rubbing my back where it hit the dresser. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Shut up, Healer!” He laid a hand on Rebecca’s head. “Just ignore her. She’s just a burden our team carries around because we happened to know her before the Downfall.”

I closed my eyes at his words, trying to ignore both the physical and emotional pain.

______________________

“Why can’t you help us?!” Rebecca was sobbing, blinking her tear-filled eyes and staring at the man in front of their group. “Don’t you know we’re humanity’s only hope?”

“They’re our only hope?”Alton leaned in, whispering “We’re so doomed.”

Stephanie and I chuckled quietly in response.

The owner of the shop, Winter, stood silently in front of the Hero’s party. He was tall, although still shorter than Garrett the Giant. Somehow his demeanor made him seem to tower over the entire group. His white hair was cropped short, at odds with his younger appearing face, placing him in his late twenties. His eyes were a bright pale blue, his handsome feature marred only by a large scar tracing across his face, only barely missing his right eye. His face was expressionless, almost bored, unchanged by Rebecca’s tears.

“You seem to be having a bit of a misunderstanding.” Winter finally spoke up, his voice quiet and cold. “I never had a deal with YOU.”

“LIAR!” Jack screamed. “You’ve always…”

“I’ve had a deal with your healer.” He raised an eyebrow. “And she’s not with you anymore. So I have no reason to deal with you.”

“The Healer?” Rita laughed, her sharp features and gaze filled with a mocking light. “That useless baggage? Why would you care if she’s with us or not?”

“…” Winter stared at her silently, and seemingly pressured, Rita stepped back, hiding behind Garrett. “Foolish.”

“We’re foolish?” Jack asked, shaken but still angry. “You’re the one who is turning down the opportunity of a lifetime. Just because of some bit…”

SMACK!

Winter backhanded the Hero, sending him down to the floor with a calm expression.

“Close your foul mouth, or I’ll close it for you.”  He raised an eyebrow. “Any questions?”

Stephanie raised her hand. “Where do I sign up to be part of his fan club?” Alton raised his hand as well, nodding.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You never change., Winter”

At my words, Winter turned towards me, his cold blank expression melting into a bright smile.

“Natalie! You’re here!”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at me. I shrunk back slightly. Alton spoke up first, frowning. “Natalie?”

I sighed. “My real name, or more accurately, my name before the Downfall. I don’t like using it anymore.” I don’t like the person who wore that name, nor the people who bestowed it upon me. “Healer is a much more accurate title.”

Alton smiled and shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, Miss Healer.”

Winter’s smile faded a bit, and he walked forward, stepping on the Hero as he did so, ignoring his grunt of pain.

“Are you okay? I just heard about the price on your head. Did they hurt you?”

I shook my head. “I’m fine. You know that they couldn’t hurt me if they tried.”

“Anyone can get hurt if they get caught off guard, Nat.” He put a hand on my shoulder, staring into my eyes. “You should have left a long time ago. They didn’t deserve your loyalty.”

“Well, she’s got a new team now!” Alton stepped in excitedly.

“Yeah! We’re much better than those creeps!” Stephanie joined in. The two gave each other and me a thumbs up.

Winter stared at them for a while, before sighing. “I told you that you didn’t have to fight with anyone. Yet you still race towards danger at the side of these… people. What has humanity ever done for you?”

I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a soft sigh. “Not everyone is as terrible as you think.”

“That’s rich, considering what state you were in when we first met.” The disappointment in his eyes was clear. I flinched, trying not to think of the circumstances of our first meeting.

“That’s not…”

“STOP IGNORING ME!” Rebecca cried out, fire blazing at her fingertips as she glared at all of us. As we quieted down, she focused her gaze on Winter. “Why are you so obsessed with her? She’s a useless healer! We are the HERO’S PARTY!”

Winter stepped closer, and she shrank into Jack’s side, trying to get away, but froze when Winter’s gaze met hers. “You know nothing, poison witch. A Healer is a noble profession, only meant for the strongest of heart and mind. “

“Y-you…”

“Now get out of my store.” He pointed at the exit, and after a moment of silence, the hero’s party shuffled out. Jack paused at the doorway, looking at me with a serious expression. “My offer is still open. We will attack the forty second gate in 3 days. With or without you.”

And with that, he was gone, and all was quiet.

“What idiots.” Alton sat down on a nearby chair, frustrated. “They’re going to put all of humanity at risk.”

“No more than they deserve.” At Winter’s harsh tone, everyone turned to him again.

“You don’t like humans?” Alton asked.

“Any reason why I should?”

He pointed at me. “Miss Healer is a human.”

“The exception, not the rule.”

I shook my head at his solemn reply. “We came here for supplies. Can you help us?”

“Of course.” He agreed immediately, pulling out a large bag from behind the counter and handing it straight to me. “On the house.”

“You know I’ll never agree to that.” I dropped some custom potions and gold on the table. “You have to stay in business.”

Winter shook his head, but I insisted. “Take it or I go somewhere else for supplies.”

“…Fine.” After a long hesitation, he finally reached out and took the items, carefully arranging them on the shelf on the back wall.

“…” Stephanie and Alton stared silently at the exchange between us.

“I smell drama!” Stephanie whispered loudly.

Alton nodded silently, frowning.

“Speaking of which, PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!” Stephanie stepped forward, dropping the pelts onto the counter. “BEHOLD! I HAVE COMPLETED MY QUEST!”

Winter looked over the wolf furs, nodding silently. “This is what I asked for.” His tone was unimpressed. Stephanie grinned, not intimidated.

“So you’ll pay me this time?”

“This time?” I turned to her. “How many times has he scammed you with fake quests?”

“They aren’t fake!” She defended, clutching the bag of gold he handed her. “He just has high standards.”

“Did you count your payment?”

“… I was about to.” She opened the sac of gold and muttered to herself, before staring accusingly at Winter. “It’s only half!”

“Because you didn’t get the pelts.” He inclined his head towards me. “I know Nat’s work when I see it.”

“I helped, though! I lured them all the way to her!”

“And I bet she asked for half.”

“How did you know?!” She paused. “I was going to give it to her.”

I sighed. “Just pay her the whole amount. Your deal was for the pelts, it doesn’t matter how she got them. If I want the cash, I’ll get it from her.”

“…”

“Besides, she’s my teammate…”

Stephanie jumped in. “AND BEST FRIEND!”

“…In a way it’s paying me.”

“…” He sat a second bag of gold down, which Stephanie snatched up and counted with glee. Winter ignored her, looking at me.

“You’re really doing this again? Trusting humans?”

I shook my head. “I don’t trust anyone.”

“You trust too much… you just pretend like you don’t to comfort yourself.” He thought things over. “Where are you going next?”

Alton joined in. “We’re going to go hunting in the fortieth level forest. Try to get a feel for our fighting style.”

“What about your fourth party member? Your team is incomplete.”

“Maybe we’re just picky?” Alton offered.

Winter stared at us. Stephanie broke first. “Everyone’s too scared to work with Alton, and they think Healer is a burden.”

“…”

“We don’t though! We think she’s awesome.”

Winter finally smiled at that. “Alright then.” He began packing a bag. “I’ll join your team.”

“AWESOME!”

“Is that even possible?”

“You’ll what?!”

Stephanie, Alton and I spoke up at the same time. Winter continued to pack, undisturbed by our shouts.

“You need a fourth teammate, and Nat needs someone to watch her back. It’s a win-win. ”

Alton stared at him. “Why do you think she needs your help?”

Winter didn’t flinch. “She needs it. Needed it since the beginning.”

After studying him a long moment, the dark wizard turned towards me. “It’s your call. I trust your judgement with this.”

I rubbed my forehead, feeling tired. “Why don’t we do a trial before making anything official? Go fight together. See how it goes from there.”

“… You don’t trust me?” Winter asked quietly.

“You’d have to be their teammates as well, fighting to protect humanity. I don’t see why you are volunteering. You’ve never cared before.” Was my equally quiet answer.

After a long moment of consideration, he nodded in agreement. “…Fine. A test mission first.”

“Wait!” Stephanie chimed in. “Can NPCs even join human parties? Aren’t they the ones who give quests?”

Winter placed his packed bag on his back, grabbing a bow and some arrows. “My kind are not a part of the Rules. We follow them, just like you do.”

“So you’re like us?” Alton asked, curious.

“No.” His tone was flat. “I am nothing like you humans. But I can join your party.”

“Great! Let’s go on an adventure!” Stephanie ran towards the door, and shaking my head, I followed her.

“Should be interesting.”

____________________________

The fortieth-floor forest was filled with death. Black twisted trees, grey, dried out grass. Shadows from nothing, movements that didn’t make sense. I stood in place, feeling the constant overwhelming sensation of being watched.

Alton smiled, seeming right at home. “Alright guys, this place is chocked full of undead, perfect for a good fight. We just need to get a sense for how everyone else works, and how to help each other.”

“Sounds good!” Stephanie pulled out her enormous sword and grinned. “I’ll tank!”

“Great. I’ll provide crowd control and protection through magic.” He turned towards Winter, who seemed relaxed despite the evil forest around him. “What about you?”

Winter held up his bow. “I’ll pick off monsters from the back.”

“Great. That just leaves Miss Healer…” He turned towards me. “How would you like to fight?”

His question caught me by surprise. When I fought with the Hero’s party, I had often supported them secretly, standing afar, silently using my healing magic to add further injuries to my teammate’s attacks. It was difficult, making myself appear useless while protecting and attacking at the same time.

But now… I was able to openly and honestly take part with the team.

I smiled. “I want to be in the front.”

Stephanie cheered. “Besties tanks!”

“Sounds like we have a plan.” Alton grinned, looking every inch the evil wizard. “Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long before we ran into a large group of undead. Zombies, skeletons, shadowy creatures with claws and spikes, crawled out between the trees, their eyes glowing red with hunger.

“Kill!” A gravelly voice came out of the large skeleton, staring at me. I walked forward calmly, no weapons in my hands.

Undead didn’t have blood. Didn’t have beating hearts. They needed no oxygen, absorbing their energy from the living. Which limited my options. I would have to go for attacks that caused physical damage.

Stephanie ran forward with a loud cry, swinging her large sword and decapitating the first zombie in her field of vision. Alton chanted, his spells separating the zombies out in smaller groups, hindering their movement and slowing their attacks. I could hear the buzzing of arrows as Winter calmly shot down enemy after enemy.

It was my turn.

I held a scalpel in my hand, the cool metal somewhat comforting against my skin. A group of ten zombies shuffled towards me, trying to shake off the bonds of Alton’s magic.

Wordless incantation was still in cooldown. I would have to speak out loud to activate my spells. I stepped closer to the group

“Amputation.”

**The Healer has cast Amputation x 10. – 1000 MP. **

My magic reached out to each of the zombies, chopping off each of their right legs at the mid-thigh, slicing cleanly through rotting muscle and bone. The zombies groaned in confusion, falling to the ground. I watched them carefully, recognizing they were still dangerous despite their helpless appearance.

This is when Jack or the others would rush in to claim the kill… and then complain about the automatic XP share since my magic contributed to the fight. But now that I don’t have them… what now?

Amputation was a spell that could only be applied to limbs. Small and large incision could cut their throats, but not enough to decapitate them which was what was needed.

A brief feeling of hopelessness rose up within me. The despair that had filled my days as I fought in this strange world beside others who had ridiculed me and belittled me. I chose a worthless class, one that struggles to put down wounded zombies…  

One of the zombies flipped onto its stomach, beginning to pull itself towards me, teeth bared. Simultaneously, a spell and an arrow hit its remaining leg, pinning it into place. Stephanie was still fighting her group of zombies, but seeing me hesitate shouted out: “Go get ‘em!”

They’re encouraging me. The stark contrast of this fight from my past team made me smile. I wanted to live up to the support of this strange new team. I thought of a plan, and I reached out my hand, focusing.

“Craniotomy.”

**The Healer has cast Craniotomy x 10. – 5,000 MP.**

The skulls cracked open, revealing rotting brains. I kept an eye on my numbers, even with my unusually large mana pool, I couldn’t keep spending so recklessly. I chose a smaller spell.

“Cauterization.”

**The Healer has cast Cauterization x 10. – 100MP.**

The tissue shriveled under the heat of the spell and the zombies grew completely still. As I stared down at the carnage, Stephanie killed her last zombie, prompting the end of the battle.

** Stephanie the Lovely Barbarian is credited with 8 zombie monster kills, awarded 600XP and +8 fame. Alton the Great Evil Wizard is credited for the assist and is awarded 200XP and +2 fame. You receive 8XP as a party member.

The Healer is credited with 10 zombie monster kills, awarded 800XP and +10 fame. Alton the Great Evil Wizard, and Winter the Shopkeeper are credited for the assist and awarded 100 XP and +1 fame each. **

“AWESOME!” Stephanie ran over and hugged me, ignoring my grimace as I realized how badly she smelled after close combat with rotting corpses. “We’re the best team ever! Did you see how fast we took out high level zombies?”

“Strong work everyone!” Alton seemed pleased, “A few more fights, and I think we could get a good rhythm going.”

“Here.” Winter held out a mana recovery potion to me. “Those were high level healer spells you cast today. You probably need this.”

After a brief hesitation I took it. “You recognize Healer spells?”

“Of course.” He spoke sincerely, adding. “It’s the greatest achievement one can have, to take such a path. I’m happy to help you.”

“…Thanks.” I drank the potion.

The Healer has used Potion of Mana Recovery, +800MP. 2 remaining in Inventory.

Stephanie stood in front of me, clasping her hands together with a pleading expression. “So… can we keep him? You said we could consider it after a trial!”

Alton and I exchanged glances. I still felt uneasy about having an “NPC” on our team. For all the time I had known Winter, I still did not understand his true motivations. Why was he in this world with us? Why join our team? And the real question that haunted me:

Why did he help me a year ago when he had no incentive to do so?

But the truth was, he was our best option.

I nodded to Alton, who immediately offered his hand to Winter.

“Welcome to the team.”

**Winter the Shopkeeper has accepted your invitation to join your party! He will have access to shared inventory, and his stats will become visible upon medical scan.**

The usual joining party message popped up, along with something unexpected:

** NOTICE - Due to status of new party member, special restrictions will apply to any stat or data sharing.**

Special restrictions? I shook my head. Not helping with my paranoia about trusting him on our team.

Stephanie cheered as I shook his hand after Alton. Finally, once things had calmed down, we all sat down to regroup.

“What next?” Stephanie asked, grabbing jerky from her pack.

I thought over her question. “The Hero’s party is going to attack the gate in 3 days. We should plan to be there.”

“Oh joy, them again.” Stephanie bit angrily into the jerky, as if hurting the people who annoyed her. "I can hardly contain my excitement."

“Fighting monsters, AND making sure the Hero’s party won’t stab us in the back at the same time?” Alton grinned. “Sounds like a party to me!"

I sighed, and grabbed my own food from my bag.

We had 3 days to get ready.

#writing #part 3 #healer #fantasy #violence #magic #video game like world #betrayal

[macgyvermedical]

My Experience in Inpatient Psych

So I know a lot of people on here have talked about their experience in inpatient psych facilities, but I'd like to add mine just to give all you writers out there a writer-focused one. It's below the cut just in case you have to sit this one out for your own reasons.

To give you some background, I am 30 years old and have had hallucinations since about 16 and bizarre intrusive thoughts (someone living in my house that wasn't supposed to be there, somebody poisoned my walls, etc...) for about a decade, as well as very severe anxiety since I was about 3 years old. This is something not a lot of people know about me, even people I am friends with IRL.

The only thing I am actually diagnosed with is anxiety, which I'm starting to think is a failing of the psych systems I have been a part of. I have had counseling off and on and prior to this hospitalization I took escitalopram, aripiprazole, and gabapentin prescribed by my primary care doctor- all for the severe anxiety.

Quite frankly, I should have been in inpatient psych at least a few times before this, and it's by sheer dumb luck that I've survived to continue this blog.

On Friday, I was at home alone and made a few pretty bad decisions. I wont say what they were because frankly they're embarrassing, but they have to do with self-harm. I was scheduled to work Saturday and at about 9pm I realized that if I drove myself to work I would crash my car. Since my wife drives me sometimes, I figured I would just ask her to.

I told my wife and she asked- even if she drove me to work, since I was a nurse, would I be able to keep myself safe around insulin or other potentially dangerous drugs? I couldn't answer that question. We talked for a couple hours and came to the conclusion that I probably needed to go to the emergency department.

At this point I figured they would evaluate me and release me because I couldn't possibly meet the criteria for inpatient. I was wrong in this assumption. After telling them the decisions I had made that day, the feelings of wanting to die in a car crash, plus about a previous attempt, they recommended inpatient. Turns out, when you're a nurse, you can make some really bad life choices with the knowledge you have, and they didn't want to take any chances.

I was given paper scrubs to wear (so I couldn't hurt myself with my clothing or a hospital gown). I was also given a patient companion (someone who sits in the room and makes sure you don't hurt yourself).

They gave me the option of signing myself in voluntarily, or putting me on a writ of detention. A writ of detention is a piece of paperwork that allows a medical professional or law enforcement officer to hold someone for 3 days in a psychiatric facility against the person's will for the purposes of psychiatric treatment. Whether you sign the voluntary or get placed on a writ, you cannot sign yourself out. You need to wait until the psychiatrist taking care of you thinks you're ready to go.

I didn't believe at this point I needed to go inpatient, but I took the voluntary option because there are some perks, like being able to leave within 3 days if appropriate. At this point I was convinced I was probably going to have to call off work Saturday and Sunday, probably be out of the hospital Monday, have a few days to rest and be back at work on my next scheduled shift after that, which was Thursday.

Well, that's not what happened.

Because of some of the decisions I had made, along with bed availability, they wanted to keep me in the observation unit overnight before they sent me to psych. I stayed overnight in a unit that shares staff with the unit I work on, so I was taken care of by my coworkers. This was surprisingly not that bad. I like my coworkers and they were really professional about it.

Saturday I felt like I was in a fog all day. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't color or write. I worked out some in my hospital room and paced the halls once or twice. Mostly I hung out with my wife and occasionally talked with my companion, but even talking was difficult. I had refused ativan because I felt like I had no hope of finding a medication that made me feel better, and I figured I didn't want to take the one medication that might actually work and then not be able to get it ever again.

Around 7PM I took a 45 minute ambulance ride to the facility. Getting my blood pressure taken is a big anxiety trigger for me, but my brain felt so scrambled that I couldn't express this well. They took it every 10 minutes on the ride there and by the time I got there it was in the 170s/100s (BP goes up when you're having severe anxiety). This was not their fault of course, but no matter how much I thought about telling them or refusing the BPs, I just couldn't do it.

When I got to the facility I was greeted by a tech who took my BP again (150s/90s this time), showed me around and looked through my personal belongings (basically just the clothing I came in with since my wife took my phone and wallet knowing I wouldn't be able to have them on the unit) to make sure I didn't have anything I wasn't allowed to on the unit. She showed me around my room and was really thorough with telling me how things worked, what the rules were, etc..

The rules included:

No patients allowed in other patients rooms

No personal belongings that had strings, belts, or laces, or that could be used as a weapon

No caffeine after lunch and no free access to caffeine

No personal electronics (including eReaders and watches). There was a TV in the day room and 2 phones mounted to the wall for patient use

A little later my nurse came into my room and asked me a ton of questions. Here's the thing about any hospital- you get asked the same questions over and over. By the time I'd gotten there I could give my story in under a minute. Or at least, that's what it felt like. There were only 2 clocks on the unit, at the nurses stations.

The unit itself was laid out in a "T" shape. There was a main nurse's station at the place where the two hallways intersected. At the end of the long hallway there was another smaller nurses station, a cafeteria/day room, and a "comfort room" which was a small room off the day room that had a collection of the oldest and worst donated books that have every come together on a bookshelf.

I did some pacing that night and then went to bed, but didn't sleep particularly well.

On Sunday morning the tech woke me up to take my blood pressure, which was, not unsurprisingly, still high. It was about 5 AM so I got up and paced the longer of the corridors for about an hour. Breakfast was served at 8 and the food wasn't that bad. The coffee was about the worst I'd ever drank, which I suppose helped with the no caffeine goals.

Just after breakfast I met with a psychiatrist on an iPad for about half a minute, and I'm not exaggerating there. The only questions he asked were whether I was suicidal and whether I would be fine with tripling my dose of aripiprazole in light of the hallucinations. I had had a 50-lb weight gain in the last year so I asked to switch my med. He switched the med to cariprazine. That was all.

I had a much longer meeting with my nurse later. All the nurses did an excellent job of assessing me, asked tons of questions, and it seemed like they really tried to figure out what was going on. That day I also met with a social worker, and a therapist, and a nurse practitioner. Each of them did an assessment to see what my needs were while I was there.

There was also a music therapy session where I cried my eyes out to Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.

I was really tired by the end of the day but I also didn't think I could sleep so I asked for trazodone. I should clarify that when I say "I" in this piece I really mean my wife convinced me to ask because I legitimately didn't believe I needed or deserved any of the things I asked for at this point. To my utter shock and surprise, they gave me the trazodone.

My first night on trazodone was amazing and I realized I hadn't slept well in a long time. With trazodone I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the blood pressure cart came rolling down the hallway at 5am. The second I got up on Monday morning I was wide awake.

I paced a lot Monday. I went to a goals session in the morning where I gave a goal to write 3/4 of a page. I didn't know if I could do it or what I was even going to write about, but I know I like to write and it might be a reasonable introduction to getting back to life.

I also was having kind of a rough day brain-wise. My brain was coming up with all the ways I could hurt myself in my room. There weren't a lot of them, but it was trying. I told the nurse during her assessment and she asked if I felt I could keep myself safe. I asked her what she would do if I said no. She said they could move me to a more secure part of the unit and give me more supervision. I knew what part of the unit she was talking about, and I didn't want to go there (no space to pace, and pacing was keeping me alive right then). So I told her I could keep myself safe (if anything, the idea of moving was good motivation to do stay safe in itself). I hallucinated some black and white blood cells falling from the ceiling and music coming out of my vents.

I also had another meeting with the social worker to figure out discharge plans. I voiced in the meeting that I wasn't sure that I could trust my wife, since it felt like at the time she was the one who exaggerated my symptoms to get me in here. The social worker said we had really good communication skills, since this was something I felt needed to be said in front of both of them and we both stayed really calm through the whole thing.

I finished the day with an art therapy session that really helped me turn a corner. The prompt was to draw the emotion(s) you felt right now on one side of the paper, and to draw the emotions you wished you could feel on the other side. For the first time I realized that my emotional state was actually really bad and that the suicidality hadn't come out of nowhere, and that I needed help.

When my wife came to visit later that night I was able to tell her about my breakthrough, even though I still felt a little bit like she had done something to get me in here and I still wasn't sure I needed to be inpatient.

Tuesday was a lot better. I felt like I had woken up out of some kind of fog and I had no idea how long I'd been in it. I went to goals group, a spiritual group, and group occupational therapy. My goal was to be more social and I made a friend and we paced together and worked out. I read a quarter of The Martian by Andy Weir (my wife brought it for me because the best thing on the bookshelf was Louis L'Amour). I wrote about how good I suddenly felt. Turns out, I thought, a few days of good sleep, lots of therapy, and a new medication or two will really change things.

A quick side note about The Martian. I highly recommend it to anyone who is chilling in a psych hospital but has the ability to read while they're there (I sure didn't the first few days). I don't really know why, but the first few times I read it, I felt like they had created this superhuman character in Mark Watney just so they could throw a ton of wild things at him for the story. This time reading it, as a suddenly not suicidal person, I realized anyone with Mark's skill would have done the same thing and not just died on Sol 7 to get it over with.

Wednesday I woke up not feeling nearly as good as Tuesday, but still like the fog had lifted. I was a little disappointed (I hallucinated my cat (thanks for coming to visit me, Corina), some spiders, and just felt kinda meh. But I remembered how good I felt the day before, and that really kept me hopeful about going home.

I saw the psychiatrist again and asked to go home. He joked a little about me staying till Christmas, but ultimately he said as soon as his note was in I could go. I ended up leaving at about 12:30 with my wife.

In the time since leaving I have required a lot of support from my wife. The medications are all locked up, so are the blades and anything I could use to hurt myself. My wife has me in eyeshot at all times. I can't drive due to intrusive thoughts, so she does all the driving now. I quit my job because I feel like it was a big part of why I ended up as bad as I was. As someone who has been a pretty independent person this is a big change of pace, but something that is really necessary to my healing.

Ultimately at the end of my hospital stay, I was prescribed escitalopram, gabapentin, trazodone, cariprazine, and then a few days later propranolol. I'm currently on a total of 5 psych meds and honestly I don't care one bit because its so much better than being not on them at this point in my life.

#mental health #personal #writing reference #inpatient psych #suicide mention #hallucination mention

[anyarose011]

Emotional Motion Sickness {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: When it's only you, your father, Mary, and Angus left behind at Barton for Christmas, you and the boy (who you were an asshole to, but in all fairness, he was one to you too) decide to get to know each other; whilst sneaking around the school.

Part 3 of ?? (Part 1 , Part 2)

Warnings: Teddy Kountze (but not for long), swearing, underage drinking, mentions of past harassment, mention of pornography, and extremely long monologues that I think would be great audition material because I'm delusional :) .

Come get y'all juice (this shit was so much longer than I expected). This may be part 3 in the series, but this is part 1 of songs that are Agnus Tully/Reader coded. And also part 2 of you guys not being able to escape being an awkward teenager just because this is fanfiction. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7.1k

You didn’t talk to anyone the day after you told Angus Tully he didn’t have any friends (well…of course you talked to your father and Mary, but the boys? No; not even the freshmen).

It was warranted; you punched Teddy in the face, you ignored Jason, and Ye-Joon and Alex were probably afraid of you at that point. Angus had the biggest excuse of them all of course, and while you actually felt bad (to your own surprise), you couldn’t bring yourself to actually approach and apologize at the time. Call it pride, call it cowardice, but you suddenly felt so ashamed you couldn’t even speak to him.

So, save for the talks you had with Mary in preparing meals, the nighttime check-ins with your father, you kept your nose stuck in a book. You ignored Teddy’s glare (while also checking over your shoulder every time you passed by him), only gave slight nods to the younger boys, and Jason didn’t even bother talking to you about what he said the day before. Angus, apparently despite not talking to each other, had perhaps the most civilized of silent discussions with you. You would only make eye contact with each other…but somehow, just somehow, there was a bit of understanding between the two of you.

You also had given him your spare toothpaste along with his payment of chocolates and cigarettes for waking you up because you noticed that he was running low. He gave you this…look. Not one of disgust, but he was confused beyond belief, and you swore he was in his own little world as you talked about your reasoning and all he did was stare at you.

Weirdo.

The day after that, making it the sixth day of being stuck at the school, you were sitting on a stool in the kitchen, reading to Mary as she prepped for lunch. “‘Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house, where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said— ‘Mary, have you ever been in love before?’”

You paused, looking up from your book and watching as the Mary in front of you was doing what the Mary in the book was doing; cleaning the knives. She glanced back at you upon your quietness, giving you the eye.

“And? What did she say?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’m waiting for her to answer.”

Scoffing, she turned away. “You’re not that funny you know.”

“Yet you’re hiding your smile.”

“Am not.”

“Well have you?”

“Have what?”

“Been in love?”

She huffed. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“There’s some wine in the chapel-.”

Mary turned, pointing a knife at you. “-Don’t you dare.”

“What?! It’s not consecrated!”

“Still, you’re a baby, you can’t drink that stuff.”

“I’m going to technically graduate in a few months.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Sighing overdramatically, you leaned against the wall. “Can you just give me a yes or no?”

She turned and headed back to the counter she was at, looking at you. “Yes, I’ve been in love before.”

“When you were young?”

“Am I not young now?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.” She began to chop vegetables.

“Was it scary?”

“Kind of.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It happened later for me than most of my friends, so that’s probably why.”

Before you could ask another complex question, a humming noise caught your ear. You thought you were going insane at first until it had also apparently got Mary’s. After taking one glance at each other, you both followed the sound, and it led you to the nearest window.

Outside, in the sky, a yellow helicopter flew above you.

The next thing you knew, as you and Mary were rushing to the library to ask your father ‘What in God’s name is going on?’, you ran into everyone in the middle of the main hall, including a man you had never seen before.

Apparently, Jason’s father cracked and decided to come pick his son up for Christmas at the ski lodge. He also offered to take the rest of The Boys Left Behind. So, there you were after Mary left, deciding to stand outside with the rest of them as Jason, his dad, and your father sat in the administrative office, calling up everyone and their mother (quite literally).

“So, Hunham,” Teddy asked, his voice so grating you would rather claw your brain out with a fork than have to listen to him. “what’re you gonna do when all of us go skiing? Take some pictures?”

You shook your head, not letting it get under your skin. “No, I’ll probably spend time with Elise.”

“Elise?” The boys questioned.

“Yeah, we met in middle school.”

“Is she anything like you or is she pretty?” Teddy prodded.

Angus rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she’d really want to hang around a cesspool like you.”

Holy shit…he was actually standing up for you? Even after you told him he didn’t have any friends? Perhaps men hadn’t failed you completely (your most famous last words of this entire winter break…maybe not for the most part, but still).

You snorted, crossing your arms while still holding Jane Eyre. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you meet her, Kountze.”

Before he could even attempt a comeback, your father came out through the door, and turned to the boys. “Well, good news gentlemen. I was able to reach Dr. Woodrup and your parents;” He glanced at Angus for a second. “Most of them, anyway. I recommend all of you go pack, have a merry Christmas.”

The rest of the boys, including Jason who exited with his dad, raced past one another; all except Angus. You could see how he tried to hide his growing disappointment and went to the first stage of grief; denial.

“Could you try them again?” He asked your father.

Paul Hunham took a deep breath. “Alright.” He turned to Jason’s father, both men uttering a ‘Merry Christmas’, before yours went back into the office. Leaving you outside with Angus.

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms. Well…this was your chance to try and be nice to him again.

“If they don’t pick up, just tell him to keep calling.” You suggested.

Angus looked at you, shrugging. “Yeah, that was my plan already.”

“I always annoy him until I get what I want. Usually works for me.”

“So why aren’t you in Copenhagen?”

“…You.” There was a silence between the both of you, and to your surprise, you had to bite your tongue not because of anger, but to stop yourself from laughing. You gave him a nod. “I hope you get to go skiing; even if Kountze will be there.”

Not giving him time to respond, you walked right past him to your room in the infirmary. In your mind, best case scenario, everyone would go skiing and you and your dad would somehow make it to Copenhagen; middle case scenario, everyone would go skiing but you’d be left in Barton with Mary and your dad; worst case scenario, you were stuck with Angus…at Barton, over Christmas break.

While he was the one that irked you the least out of the boys your age, you weren’t really in the mood to be with him until the middle of January.

It was as you were sitting on the edge of your bed, reading the rest of Jane Eyre, when someone knocked on your door. Glancing up, you saw Alex. Smiling, you asked.

“You ready to go?”

He nodded, then walked into the room, holding out your mittens. “Sorry I forgot to give them back.”

You took them, standing and smiling. “No, you’re alright. If I’m honest, I would’ve let you keep them while you were here.”

“Are you and Angus going to be okay?”

Giving him a look, you chuckled. “Well, if there’s a god, then hopefully that means he’ll go with you guys.”

At that moment, both of your eyes were drawn to the doorway when you heard heavy footsteps and watched as Angus Tully stormed past.

“Okay, guess there isn’t.” You grumbled, then went back to sweet. “Don’t worry though, we’ll be civil with each other.”

“I think you should be friends.”

Well…that was unexpected. Still, you snickered. “Alex, are you saying neither of us have friends already? And I thought you were nice.”

“No just,” he sighed. “I heard Ye-Joon crying a few nights go, Angus told him friends are overrated, and Ye-Joon told me that Angus had been kicked out of a lot of schools…I don’t know.”

You nodded, completely understanding. “I’ll be nicer to him; I promise you that. Now go have a great Christmas.”

He grinned from ear to ear, unexpectedly hugging you. After freezing for just a moment, you hugged him back before pulling away. You bid each other goodbye, and he went running back to his room to pack. A few seconds later, it was Jason who was in your room.

“Hey.” He greeted.

“Hello.”

He stood there stiffly, almost as if he was nervous for the first time in his life. “Um…I just wanted to say sorry.”

This intrigued you. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Jason fiddled with the bag in his hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you; Teddy was an asshole, end of story.”

You gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

The silence between you was different; not one of comfort, but not exactly discomforting either. Though, it was becoming that the more time dragged on.

“You know,” he grinned, and you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or a joke. “if we hurry, I could probably sneak you on?”

You merely kept your face the same; a pitiful, upturned mouth. “Merry Christmas, Jason.”

He nodded, taking the hint, wishing you a ‘Merry Christmas’ back, and left. Not exactly the best apology to receive, but you were more than happy you got one. Also happy that he didn’t call you names for refusing his advances; bare minimum, but welcome to the early 1970s.

Teddy followed soon after him, and he stopped in your doorway, turning his head to you. He only managed to take a breath to speak before you beat him to it.

“I hope you fall of the fucking ski lift, snap your fucking neck, and never recover.”

He only smiled. “I hope your business goes well. Tell Daniel I said ‘hi’.”

And that was the last time you saw him that Christmas break. He did indeed fall off a ski lift and snap his neck.

He didn’t actually, but you wished he did. When he walked past you, Ye-Joon was next, and you both just uttered a quick ‘Merry Christmas’, before he left. Knowing that Tully was still in the room, you decided it was best to avoid him, and went back to your father.

“No luck?” You asked him.

He shook his head. “No luck.”

Sighing, you glanced down at the floor. Great…it was official; you were still stuck with at least one boy who would for sure not have his brain developed until he was thirty at the youngest (or so you thought).

“Do you want to see the helicopter take off?” Your father asked.

You nodded, not knowing what else to do. So, that was how you found yourself, your father, and Angus (who surprisingly crawled out of the room to also watch it take off), in the snowy quad, watching as the ‘Boys Left Behind’ became the ‘Boys Who Are Now in a Damn Helicopter Going Skiing’. You thought the last title had a better sound to it.

Your father sighs from beside you, turning to look at you in the middle, and Angus to your right. “Well, let’s make the best of it.”

He went in soon after that, leaving you and Angus alone together. You wanted to say something, you probably should’ve. Yet, in all honesty, you had nothing to say, and you knew that if you forced yourself to come up with something, it would’ve been bad.

So that’s why you didn’t even look at him when you left. That’s why you avoided him for the rest of the day, luckily being able to spend most of it with Elise and doing nothing but making Christmas cookies with her and miss Crane (even though she’d already made more than enough to give to the teachers. They were…fine when your dad gave you one), and muting channels from the TV and voicing over them.

You and Elise had done that since you were kids…which actually wasn’t that long ago when you were still doing it.

When you got back, you helped Mary with dinner, than all ate in silence; save for your father trying to make conversation about your day since you were truly the only one out of all of you to have an interesting day.

That’s when the four of you found yourself in the teacher’s lounge; you reading Little Women, your father and Mary watching The Newlywed Game, and Angus reading Popular Mechanics in a chair far away from you.

As you were disappearing into your second read of the book, it was Mary who brought you out of it.

“Your daughter asked me an invasive question today.”

You looked up in alarm at the accusation. Paul Hunham sighed, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “And what, pray tell, was it this time?”

“Asked if I’d ever been in love.”

Your father said your name warningly. Of course, you defended with. “We were reading Jane Eyre! If I was reading this,” you held up your book. “I would’ve asked if she ever rejected a man before. I already know the answer, but still.”

“You know the answer?” Mary laughed.

“You probably had to beat them off of you back in the day, you were so pretty.”

“Were?”

“Fine wine, miss Lamb.” You hung upside down, tossing your feet over the back of the couch. “You age like fine wine.”

 “Stop that.” She scoffed lovingly, then asked your father, almost as if it was a joke. “What about you?”

You looked at him. “Oh, I sure hope he’s been in love.”

“Well,” he said your name. “you know, it was purely for economic reasons at first, but then-.” The pillow you threw at him caused him to chuckle before continuing. “Yes, Josephine March, I was greatly enamored by your mother.”

“What was your favorite thing about her?”

“Everything.”

“Oh, come off it.” You rolled your eyes.

“Well then, if you’re going to be like that, then it’s her laugh.”

You sat up. “That’s such a basic fucking-!”

“-Hey!” Both him and Mary started.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Angus smile for just a second. Your father continued. “I’ll tell you why her laugh was my favorite; it’s because she barely did.”

When you thought of it…she really only laughed around you. Were you that funny or did she just love you that much? Either way, you were more than happy about it. Your father continued.

“She announced in front of an entire class that she would more than likely laugh while being stuck in a brazen bull, then listening to my jokes. That was the first thing she said to me, and it’s still one of my favorite memories.”

Mary chimed in. “Not your wedding day?”

You and her shared a knowing look, trying not to burst out in laughter as your father just smoked his pipe, nodding. No time to unpack that.

“But you know, there’s more to falling in love than just with people.” He started soon to clear the air. “Imagine it, like a monk: forgoing sensual pleasures for the achievement of spiritual goals.”

“Spiritual goals, you?” Mary questioned. “What spiritual goals are we talking about? You go to church?”

“Only when required.”

“Exactly.” She mumbled. “Me having to save your daughter’s soul every Sunday since she was a kid.”

You only went because she’d take you and Curtis out to lunch every Sunday.

“When’s the last time you even left campus?” Mary asked him.

He almost looked offended. “I go into town all the time.”

“Oh!”

“For groceries, and errands, and various appointments.”

“Jane Bennett over here can’t drive and she gets out more than you.”

“Okay yes,” he sighed. “I don’t leave campus often. I don’t really feel the need.”

Mary nodded. “Let me ask you something. If you could go anywhere on earth, where would you go?”

“Well, we were supposed to go to Copenhagen…” nearly left your lips, but then your eyes caught Angus again, and looked away soon when his sight met yours.

“Oh,” your father grinned. “Greece, Italy, Egypt, Peru, Carthage, Tunisia now, of course. In college I started a monograph on Carthage. I’d like to finish that someday. A monograph is like a book only shorter.”

“I know what a monograph is.” Mary answered tiredly.

“Why not just write a book?”

That was the first thing you heard Angus say after hours of silence.

Your father shook his head. “I’m not sure I have an entire book in me.”

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary asked.

If it were any other day, you would’ve laughed. But for some reason (that reason being you staring at Angus Tully), you didn’t. Still, once the two of you made eye-contact, you shot your gaze back to the TV, and then down to your book for the rest of the night.

What a strange person (he probably thought the same as you).

Your father agreed to let you sleep in the free room of the infirmary on account of the fact Teddy and Jason were gone. He made the joke too that you could “Finally sleep” as if you already hadn’t been sneaking out to get sleep. Still, even though you could no longer hear his snores, you found yourself more awake than ever that night.

When you were a child, you used to go on nightly excursions. Those being where you’d walk down the stairs of your old house and see everything in the dark; a familiar place becoming the unfamiliar and realizing just how taller everything was compared to you.

You cried the first time that you did it, and your mother rushed down to comfort you; your father, of course, slept like a rock. You still went on the little adventures though.

So…why not do it at Barton? Surely you were old enough you wouldn’t cry this time?

Tiptoeing through the halls and into your father’s room after throwing on your boots and jacket, you somehow managed to grab the keys and flashlight without him hearing you. Then you saw the bottle of whiskey by his bed; checks out.

As you were exiting through the hall, you passed by Angus’ room. You stopped in the doorway, contemplating. Would he be more pissed at you for waking him up, or for leaving him out? Well…only one way to find you.

In the same way you did on the first night, you shook him awake. He flinched a little when he saw you but wasn’t completely frazzled. “What?” He groaned, more so out of exhaustion than annoyance.

All you did was hold up the ring of keys to him.

That got him to sit up, and you managed to smile, tilting your head back to the door. It still astounds you to this down just how quickly you both could communicate without having to say a single word. He got on his coat and shoes, and the pair of you were soon off, traversing down the halls. Your first stop was the teacher’s lounge.

“I just want to check on Mary.” You explained.

“Why?”

“Because she checks up on us.”

And he didn’t argue; poor, tall child was just happy to have some freedom for the first time in almost a week. So, you both just quickly peered into the teacher’s lounge, and sure enough, she was sleeping on the couch with the TV on. You both tiptoed out of there and into the darkened hallway.

“Turn on the light.” He whispered to you.

“I’m trying.” You felt around for the switch, and then heard a ‘bump!’ in front of you followed by cursing.

“Shit!” Your heart jumped. “What did you do?!”

“Just turn on the light!”

You did, and you saw him hunched over, cradling his left elbow. You made a face. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just maybe turn the flashlight on before going into a dark place?”

Oh, hell no, you weren’t taking that amount of sass. “Well maybe you should stop being so tall and stupid. Jesus wept, you make the ground shake every time you walk.”

He scoffed, though an etching of a smile played on his lips when he knocked on the wall beside you.

“What’re you doing?” You asked.

“She’s not going to wake up. It’s fine.”

“Still, I don’t wanna risk it.”

“Okay,” he shrugged his shoulders. “then could I have the light? Seeing that you can’t handle it?”

Oh, what a little shit. Rolling your eyes, you handed it to him, to which he immediately turned over his shoulder and started skipping down the hallway, making quite a lot of noise.

“Angus Tully, I swear to God!” You rushed after him.

He led you into the kitchen, but you led him to the freezer and the large tub of vanilla ice cream the cooks only used for ‘Special Occasions’. You grabbed spoons off the counter and ate from the tub for a few good minutes without saying a word to each other.

When you were finished, he asked. “Where else were you thinking of going?”

 “I’m not sure.” You then glanced over to one of the ‘Staff Only’ doors. “I got an idea.”

After using the keys to unlock it, the door led down into a dimly lit tunnel. You went down first, the cold hitting your skin and you zipped your jacket up. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Angus still up at the top.

“Well come on, you’re the one with the light.”

That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and he walked down the steps.

“How’d you know this was here?”

“That’s for me to know.”

And you just walked ahead of him.

He scoffed. “So, I don’t get to find out?”

“Nope.”

The tunnel was much longer than you initially thought it would be, but when you both got to the first door you’d seen, you were led into the sacristy of the chapel. Instantly, Agnus set down the flashlight and opened up the cabinet, taking out the chalice and jug of wine.

You snorted. “What a faithful altar boy you are.”

“Of course I am.” He responded, pouring the wine into the chalice and taking a huge gulp of it. “Want some?”

You tensed at first but responded quick enough. “Sure.”

He poured the wine into the chalice and took a small sip. It wasn’t as bad as when you first tried it; in fact, it was pretty good. You finished most of it after bringing it to your lips again.

“You’ve never had it before, haven’t you?” He grinned like the little shit he was (still is).

Shaking your head, you handed it back to him. “Just not in a while.”

You both got quickly bored in the sacristy after Angus had another drink of wine and went back through the door into the tunnel.

“Do you think someone died down here?” You questioned.

“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re doing a shitty job at it.” He answered.

“That sounds like something someone who’s terrified of ghosts would say.”

Sooner than you thought you would, and after a solid minute of you two going back and forth about the existence of ghosts, you found another door, which led you up into the auditorium. You’d only been there once for Curtis’ graduation the year prior, and you hadn’t step foot in there since then. Angus immediately went to the piano, sitting down at it and looking out to the sea of seats. You approached him leaning against the grand piano. He brought out a pack of the cigarettes you’d gotten him and a lighter.

“Mind if I have one?” You asked.

He nodded, placing a cigarette between his lips and then handing you one. He lit it for you, and you brought it up to your mouth. Somehow, you hadn’t coughed, and you were proud of yourself; you let your curiosity get the best of you, but it hadn’t killed you yet. Angus pressed a few keys on the piano, and you chuckled.

“You play?” You questioned.

“Not since I was ten. You know how?”

“Nope; all I know is Roman history and how to annoy men, apparently.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can I ask you a question after you do?”

“Sure.”

“Go ahead.”

He takes a puff from his cigarette before asking. “Why the book names?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “It’s just always been a thing my mom did; they all mean different things. Countess Natalya when I’m being overdramatic, Jo March for my dad, Jane Bennett for Mary, Emma Woodhouse when I’m being stubborn, things like that.”

“Should I call you something then?” He teased.

“I’d prefer just my name from you, thank you very much.” You played along back, walking around the piano and plopping yourself down on the wooden floor. He soon sank down to be at your level, finding it awkward to sit above you. “Okay, my question.”

He nodded. “Shoot.”

“Why did you and Teddy get into a fight at the beginning of break?”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “Asshole stole my family picture and I knew it but he kept denying it; might’ve said some shitty things to him, but it’s not like they weren’t true.”

“What’d you say?”

“That he was a sociopath, and his family didn’t want him around.”

You almost choked on your cigarette but laughed. “Damn, that’s brutal.”

“Smith had to pull us apart, it was apparently that bad.”

Scoffing, you said. “You and him had to hold Teddy back after I punched him.”

“Asshole.” He muttered.

“Asshole.” You repeated.

Silence passed by the both of you for the hundredth time that day, and that was when you spoke up.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a jerk these last few days.” He arched his brow, and you just went on. “To be honest, you have been too, but I’ve been a bigger one; especially today. I wanted to say something before but…I didn’t want to be more of a bitch than I already was.”

He shook his head. “You’re not; I was kind of a dick when I first met you.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, a lot.” He admitted. “It was honestly stupid luck I got that question when you first showed up at Barton, and I got carried away with bragging.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You repeated his words from a few days ago. “You’re actually the smartest out of all of them.”

“Really?”

“Not even close to me, but still.” You held out your hand. “Friends of some sort?”

He shook it. “Friends of some sort.”

You both pulled away, and after taking another drag of your cigarette you said. “I actually don’t know jack shit about you.”

“That a fact?”

“Yeah, and since we’re going to be stuck here for a while, I think that should change. How about this?” you scooted closer to him. “We ask each other questions. Simple at first, but more and more, we go a little deeper. How does that sound?”

He huffed. “Sounds like a regular conversation.”

“We get to refuse to answer one question.” You added. “Everything else after is free game. Sound more exciting?”

Angus nodded. “Alright, what’s your favorite color?”

“Pass.”

“Are you serious?”

“Fuck no.” You laughed, giving him your favorite color then asking him. “Favorite book?”

He responded much faster than you thought he would. “Catch-22.”

“Ah, a man of culture. Thank God, I thought I’d have to stop talking to you.”

Angus shook his head, chuckling. “If you could be an animal, what would you be?”

Ah…a bit of a stranger one, but you like that. You thought more on it, then gave him your answer. He nodded.

“Yeah, seems like you’d be one.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” You answered in a dead pan, and broke character the second you saw his face fall. “Just messing with you. Favorite childhood memory?”

He paused at that but didn’t show any sign of discomfort. Hesitance, yes, but he was taking more time thinking about your (frankly bizarre) question. Then, he answered.

“My dad took me on a fishing trip when I was twelve. Just for the weekend out in the woods with a small cabin. Talked to me about what it meant to be a man, telling me what he was like as a kid…I don’t even like fishing.”

The short story, even though it wasn’t yours, brought a nostalgic smile to your face for a moment. “I tried fishing once; not really my thing either.”

“Mr. Hunham took you fishing?” The look on his face made you laugh.

“Oh god no.” You shook your head. “Curtis did.”

Angus blinked upon the name. “Mary’s kid?”

“You’ve already asked a question.”

“What?”

“I just asked you what your favorite memory was as a kid, you asked me if my dad took me fishing. It’s my question now. Technically, I can ask two in a row because you just asked me what I meant.” It was your turn to have the shit-eating grin.

“I…” He tried not to laugh, unable to believe it. “So, our friendship is basically transactional?”

“Huh?”

“You’re having us say that if one of us asks two questions in a row, even if one isn’t really about getting to know the other-.”

“-It was about getting to know me; you asked if my dad took me fishing.”

“That’s a transactional relationship, not really a conversation.”

“Are you trying to explain to me what a conversation is, Tully?” You furrowed your brow, stomping out your cigarette. “Do you really believe women are that stupid?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, considering how you just asked three questions in a row.”

Never in your life (at least recently) had something thrown you off balance so drastically. You counted on your fingers, jogging your memory, and yes, you indeed answered three questions: freeing him from yours. You both made eye contact, and with the same, unspoken language, you both laughed. It took you a bit longer to recover, to which you then asked.

“Okay, and you can ask me two questions, do you genuinely think women are stupid?”

Angus shook his head, his cigarette on its last leg. “Everyone’s stupid in their own special way.”

“How poetic of you.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

“Shut up and ask me a stupid question because you’re so stupid.”

He threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out before turning to you. “Craziest thing that happened to you?”

Your face dropped for a moment at the question, before it soon morphed into a nervous smile. “It’s what made my dad start homeschooling me.”

Angus raised his brows. “If it’s not a fun memory than-.”

“-No it’s alright.”

“If anything,” you thought to yourself. “it’ll make me see who you really are.”

You set the scene. “You’ve been in eighth grade, right?”

“I though you said I could ask two questions-?”

“-For fuck’s sake, Tully.”

“Yes,” he grinned. “I’ve been in eighth grade, surprisingly.”

“Well, you probably remember how much we thought we were hot shit at that age, right?” You didn’t give him time to respond. “My friend Elise is Miss Crane’s niece, Miss Crane the secretary.”

“Yeah, I know who she is.”

“Elise only comes to live with her during winter and summer breaks. I met her when we were like twelve, and we were immediately inseparable. Summer of eighth grade going into high school, she takes this theatre summer camp hosted by some kids at Ridgeway.”

Angus scoffed. “That fucking shithole? My roommate had some of his friends over who went there; assholes.”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it.” You rolled your eyes. “So, one of the counsellors, I don’t know I think her name was like…Gloria, or something, really liked her, and invited her to a party she and the other theatre kids were having. She told Elise that she could bring anyone that she wanted. Elise thought that other campers were being invited, so she asked me because…okay shoot me, I liked theater growing up. Now Elise wasn’t going to Ridgeway for high school, but I was, so she thought it’d be great for me to meet the people. That’s what she told my dad and her aunt; that it was a part of the camp. God, we spent hours getting ready, I look at pictures that Miss Crane took of us, and we didn’t even look that good,”

You and Angus paused to relish your chuckling before continuing. “but what mattered was that we were excited. Miss Crane drove us to the house at seven, said she’d pick us up by ten, and then left. The only people there were us, Gloria, and two of the other counselors; one being her boyfriend, Bobby fucking Nolan. So, it was awkward for the first hour because, of course Gloria wasn’t supposed to invite two eighth graders, but it’s fine because she said ‘Elise is cool, so her friend’s probably cool’. I wanted us to call someone to take us home because there was a misunderstanding, hell, the counsellor that wasn’t Gloria’s boyfriend even offered to, but Elise said she wanted to stay. I wasn’t leaving her behind, so I stayed too. It actually got fun after that. It was more than obvious I was uncomfortable, so they asked me to pick a board game for us to play when waiting for other people, and I picked Clue. It went on for a while, and people started showing up, so it was really just me, Bobby fucking Nolan, and another random kid playing with us because the others, including Elise, left. Bobby said that I was purposefully hiding my cards because he assumed some things weren’t adding up. He did this the whole game, and he’d try to be teasing, but he always sounded like he was accusing me of murder. Which, okay, a part of the game but you know what I mean. I got fed up with it, so I told him a bit more aggressively that I wasn’t lying. This asshole reaches over and squeezes me here.”

Scooting closer to Angus where your face was just a foot away from his, you pointed to the base of your neck where your clavicle is. “So I freak out of course, and he just started laughing, saying he found out that’s a ticklish spot for everyone. My stomach started feeling weird, and I…a year before that, my dad told me that if I ever started feeling sick out of nowhere, whether it was because of a person or situation, than I’d leave. Doesn’t matter what, I’d just go. So, I say I have to go to the bathroom, get Elise, she sees that I’m starting to freak out, and we try to find Gloria, her friend, or just anyone who’d want to take us home. Bobby finds us instead, he’s lit, and he won’t let us out of his sight. He was joking at first, and I’m fucking terrified at this point, so Elise has to tell him we’re going home. He’s getting pushy now, and it takes him calling her a ‘bitch’ for people to notice. So, thank God, some of the others pull him away to calm him down because he looked like he’d start swinging, and one of the girls took pity on us and drove us to Elise’s house because we were supposed to have a sleepover. I was crying at this point, so I begged Miss Crane to call Mary, not my dad, she picked me up, I told her everything, she brought me home, told my dad, and the next day I told him everything I told Mary. He said I did the right thing in leaving and was pissed at the school. So, he called them, got most of the kids there in trouble; all except Bobby fucking Nolan. Because Bobby Nolan’s mom was screwing the principal, and technically besides underage drinking and minor harassment, he didn’t do anything wrong in the school’s eyes; so, he just got a few days’ worth of detention, but even then, that was probably wiped from his records…He was a freshman going into sophomore year, so if I went to Ridgeway, I’d be stuck with him for three years…everything else checks out.”

The silence was deafening. Angus had a face you had never seen on him before. “I…shit, that’s fucked up.”

Just like with everything else you did when things became too serious (because it was only then you realized that you just told him something that was somewhat traumatic and not funny), you made it funny.

“Oh fuck, you asked me about the craziest thing that happened to me. Sorry, I forgot to say that I was like a little tipsy throughout all of that.”

“What?!”

No one ever said you landed the punchline all the time. Still, you tried.

“Now I know that sounds bad-.”

“-It is bad. You were like what, fourteen?”

“…Thirteen.”

“Oh my god.” He groaned.

“How old were you when you first drank?”

“Sixteen.”

“That’s like three years.”

“It’s about maturity.”

“Oh,” you snickered. “and you have a lot of that?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe I do."

Rolling your eyes, you said. “Go ahead.”

“What?”

“Ask your other question. No, that one doesn’t count, I’m actually tired of the rules I set up.”

He was still, understandably, thrown off about all that you told him. Still, he went. “How’d you know about the tunnels?”

“Curtis Lamb. We were friends for a while, and he told me he and some other kids would explore them. Mary never found out somehow.”

“Why’d you stop being friends?”

You shrugged. “We didn’t, he just died. Did your mom and dad get a divorce or…?”

You were always a hardball when it came to being blunt.

Angus tensed. “Pass.”

“Okay.”

“Can I ask about the letter?”

Oh…oh…

Well…what a spot you put yourself in…

“Pass.” You said without hesitation. Had he said that to get back at you for asking a stupid question or did he actually want to know?

Still, he respected it. “Your turn.”

And you decided to be slightly less bold, but not back down completely. “Have you been kicked out of school before?”

To your surprise, he wasn’t angry when you asked. A bit smug even. “Oh, who told you?”

“Alex.”

“Figures. Yeah, three.”

“Why?”

“‘Unruly behavior, instigating fights, stealing school property.’” He rolled his eyes. “If I get kicked out of this one, it’s off to military school.”

You nodded. “So maybe don’t then.”

“Seems like a plan.”

“When did your mom marry your stepfather?”

“Just last summer; that’s why they’re taking their honeymoon now. She’d only been with him for six months.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Just lonely I guess.”

You furrowed your brow. “She had you.”

He didn’t say anything, he stopped looking at you too. Well, new tactic now.

“What you did was nice a few nights ago.” Like Pavlov’s dog, he looked up at you. “Helping Ye-Joon out.”

His eyes drifted. “It was nothing.”

“It was everything to him and it meant something to me. It meant that you’re not a complete asshole you try to be, and I don’t know why you try to be one, but you’re not.” You saw right through him, and you both knew it. Still, to save face a little while longer, you added. “I’m sorry too about saying you didn’t have friends.”

“It’s fine-.”

“-No, it’s not, because I felt like shit as soon as I said it, and it’s a shitty thing to say to anyone.”

He stared at you the same way he did when you gave him toothpaste, and it unnerved you even more. Had anyone ever apologized to him?

“Thanks.” Was his reply, and the two of you stopped asking questions. You both sat in the auditorium for perhaps a small moment’s silence when he said. “I uh…we should probably get back.”

You nodded, getting up. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The two of you tried to make it seem like you’d never been there and made your way back down into the tunnel. The walk seemed much longer than it had previously, the two of you not seeming to have anything to say until Angus went-.

“I threw out the skin mag.”

Well…the actual last thing you thought you would hear from him that night.

You stopped in your tracks. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you as he confessed. “I stole Kountze’s cigarettes to trade for it and practically waved it in his face the first few days. I know it’s none of my business, but after he read the letter…I just felt bad about it.”

What on God’s green earth were you supposed to say? Apparently, after a few moments of stunned silence, you knew.

“…Thanks? On behalf of all women, I guess?” He nodded, still not looking at you, which only added to your anxiety. “We’re good, right? Still friends of some sort?”

“Yeah.” He finally met your eyes.

You nodded. “Nice.”

And you walked ahead of him as if trying to outrun the light. You both tiptoed through the halls, setting the keys and flashlight back in your father’s room in the infirmary, and went into your own separate rooms.

As you laid down to sleep, the strangeness of the whole evening played in your mind. You had been so vulnerable with him, and he hadn’t thrown it back and spat it in your face; he let you talk about it for so long.

He didn’t blame you for what happened.

You never told anyone about that besides the people involved…

But he didn’t do the same. Yes, your friendship (of some sort) didn’t have to be where each of you dumped a lot of baggage on each other…but you still felt odd doing so.

You felt something in your stomach the more you thought about the whole night; being alone together and exploring the school as if you were both main characters in a novel, telling secrets in the dark…

You didn’t feel sick though; at least, not like when a boy touched you for the first time.

#angus tully x reader #the holdovers #paul hunham #mary lamb #angus tully #Youtube

[theminecraftbee]

just revisited scs, and was wondering if pearl still joins hermitcraft in season 8 as she does? and if so, what are three's thoughts and feelings on this? if we go by hermitcraft rules, it'd have to had voted her in, and it does care about pearl in some capacity due to her link with martyn and jimmy so it'd want her somewhere safe, but is their relationship still rocky at that point? has it gotten better? and how does it evolve through their time on hermitcraft? is boatem still a thing, or do three and pearl give each other more space?

sorry if you've answered something like this before, but i'm curious

so here's how it goes in my head, although as always, anyone is free to have their own headcanons for it:

so by season eight, given the messy timeline i've created, three has had some time and distance. additionally, i like to think that it and everyone else DID keep up their promises to stay in contact. pearl and three's relationship will probably never be as close as pearl and grian's, but pearl is TRYING and three is willing to give her a shot when they're not standing right next to each other and she isn't in the middle of grief as much, so they form a tentative bond.

pearl doesn't join season eight because of three; three doesn't invite her. however, i'd like to think that pearl, maybe on the prodding of "her friends are actually talking to her again", has tentatively started doing her own builds again and showing them off and something like that dragon build of her blows up. so when names are being floated for season eight, and someone's already floated gem as a possibility, someone says pearl's name. and three doesn't know. three doesn't know if they'll be able to handle each other living on the same server. but it's now been at least a year and a half since scs and with scs's messy timeline probably longer, right. three is much more self-assured and has a better idea of who it is. and like, it thinks about it, but maybe pearl gives away she's still living on evo in a call, and three thinks about it, and...

the thing is: three had needed someone to say "you can come here when you run away" two years ago about the same thing. it can at least try.

this is to say: pearl joining hermitcraft is not three's idea or three's invitation. but three gives her its endorsement, and eventually its vote. pearl joins in season eight. three and pearl then proceed to try to completely avoid each other for like, at least a month. i don't want to take pearl and impulse bonding away from the world, so i think maybe pearl still bases near there, but the friendship groups in three's timeline are a little shifted ANYWAY, even if they're similar, so we can shift people around a little. maybe three drags mumbo off to go follow iskall and etho into the shattered savannah. god, can you imagine, actually, that would be hysterical.

but the thing is, even though the hermits spend a lot of time alone, they also spend a lot of time together, and like... three IS friends with impulse. and it is Conspicuous that they're avoiding each other, and they can't do it forever. it's pearl who screws her courage to the sticking place first and invites three to help her with an interior room of her build. three, not actually quite good enough at emotions to recognize "here come do an interior, thing i know grian hated but you like" as the very deliberate olive branch it is but good enough at emotions to know it probably shouldn't avoid, accepts.

and it goes... well. it surprises both of them how well it goes, actually. maybe it shouldn't; they've been in contact after all, and they've had time to soothe and process their relationship. they part back to their own bases again with the promise to do it again, and they do not avoid each other for the rest of the season. they don't seek each other out, often--they're not quite ready for that--but they don't avoid each other, either.

it's not perfect. pearl still sometimes looks at three like she's looking at a dead man. three still sometimes wants to scream when she does.

but there are many times, now, when they can forget how they met in the first place, and just chat about build pallets and pranks and shapes and llamas and everything else together.

that's close enough to healing.

#answered #solving counting sheep talk #THANK YOU FOR THIS. I HAVE THOUGHTS.

[aurumacadicus]

92 or 14 maybe? 🤔

Going with 14!

--

Prince Anthony was picking his feathers out again.

Steve wordlessly set his shield aside and walked over to grab his hands, yanking them down, away from his wings. "Your highness--"

"I know!" Prince Anthony exclaimed defensively. His wrists jerked in Steve's grip, though, back toward his wings, and he wilted under Steve's stern glare. "I know," he repeated miserably.

It broke Steve's heart, but he turned to grab the picking glove, and while Prince Anthony obediently stuck his hands in so the mouth could be cinched tight around his wrists, he couldn't help but think it wasn't fair. Maybe Prince Anthony wouldn't be picking himself bald if he didn't have to choose a suitor in the next three days.

Prince Anthony had always been put off by the cock parties, as he'd called them--"cockerel balls" had always seemed to lend a layer of refinement to them that they didn't deserve, he'd said. Mostly, it was young cocks approaching and trying to impress prospective hens, and as Prince Anthony had a sizeable fortune behind him, he'd been the one most flocked to. It had made him suspicious, nervous even, of anyone's attention. Steve had watched, heart sinking with every ball, as grabby kids who barely knew what to do with a cloaca fawned all over Prince Anthony for the chance at his wing in matrimony.

It had given him nothing but a dim view on mating parties and cocks in general, which was probably why he'd gotten away with his secret for so long. He was so visibly disgusted after each cockerel ball that everyone assumed even if he was pregnant, he'd get rid of it as quickly as possible. Only when the rumors about his sudden cravings for sardines and almonds got loud enough to reach the royal court did it become necessary for Prince Anthony to undergo medical examination. And, well, when it was found to be true, that a royal hatchling was on the way, an unwed, pregnant royal was deemed a hazard to... what was it they had said? Public decency and the dignity of the crown?

Either way, it meant that another cockerel ball had been set up as quickly as possible, and Prince Anthony no longer had the choice of saying no to all comers if he wanted to keep his financial backing, even if he plucked himself bare in the meantime.

Steve watched Prince Anthony begin to pace, feeling helpless. His prince was in trouble, and he could do nothing of import to stop it. Prince Anthony looked like a caged animal as he walked up and down the carpet. He wasn't even showing yet. Was the palace hoping to get him wed immediately and lie about the hatchling being early? Someone would be bound to talk. That's what had started this mess, after all.

"I suppose," Prince Anthony began, voice halting and pained as he turned to pace in front of the window, obviously hoping the sun's rays would help him feel better. "That Lady Pepper is. Nice enough. Could pass the egg off as hers if we married."

"I suppose," Steve agreed, hoping he sounded noncommittal instead of just bitter.

"Or. Or that kind--Bruce? I think?"

"The alchemist Bruce was very kind," Steve answered with a nod.

"Or I could... I could just..." Prince Anthony stopped in front of the window, staring outside. Then, as quickly as he stopped, he turned around, eyes wide and beseeching. "Run away with me."

Steve's mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked at Prince Anthony slowly, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Prince Anthony was a well-loved public figure, and while Steve was famous for his work in the war, he'd never been... someone people wanted to see running the country. In fact, if anyone ever found out that he was the one who had henned the heir apparent, he likely wouldn't be able to see him again. Prince Anthony was royalty. Steve had clawed his way up from the streets. He was only Prince Anthony's personal guard because there had been several attempts on his life, and Steve was the best at what he did.

"Run... away...?" Steve finally repeated, still not quite believing it.

"I'm just a figurehead for this stupid country," Tony spat, hope giving way to anger. "They only kept royalty on as a tradition they didn't know how to quit, as a show. I don't have any real power. And that's how they can bully me into getting married, picking a cock I don't even like all that much to be the legitimate father of my egg--So. So let's run away."

There were many reasons why Steve should say no. The country loved Prince Anthony, for one--he was only behind his late mother in terms of charity, and was quickly gaining on her record; despite the fact that he had no real power, he always did his best to influence parliament to vote in favor of the people; and the whole country had collectively swooned when a tabloid had leaked a picture of him holding a baby at the hospital with the quote 'babies need to be held' splashed under it. Steve was a nobody, come up from nothing, and most people did not have good things to say about him coming up from nothing because of the war.

Prince Anthony's gaze was steady, though, when Steve met his eyes. He was certain of his decision. That was one of the things Steve liked about him--he knew what he wanted, and if he could get it, he eagerly went through with it. And if he couldn't get it, he was a gracious loser.

"Your highness," Steve began with a sigh.

"I don't care if we're poor," Prince Anthony continued before he could voice his dissent, the determination in his voice making Steve's mouth snap shut in surprise. "You'll take care of us. And I--I have an education. I can get a job to help. You helped make this egg," he added sharply. "Are you refusing to take responsibility? And could you really just let someone else raise your chick?"

If he told himself it was for the better, to make sure the chick got everything it needed or wanted, he probably could. Prince Anthony would love it enough for the both of them, even if his new spouse only tolerated the chick. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was getting Tony laden with egg before marriage. A marriage that couldn't happen because of who he was and who Prince Anthony had turned out to be. Steve opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be taking the spot from a more deserving rooster.

But he didn't want to. And Tony was clearly showing he didn't want to either. So he looked up at Tony and nodded sharply. "Alright, Tony."

"Tony," he repeated in a whisper, shocked. Steve only ever called him that in bed; he needed the separation of work and intimacy, and it helped to remind Tony, too, that he couldn't reach out and touch whenever he wanted. Steve watched as Tony's mouth spread into a wide smile as he lunged toward him, hooking his bound hands behind Steve's neck and pulling him down for an overjoyed kiss just bordering on desperation. Apparently, eschewing his proper name was all the real confirmation he needed of Steve's feelings.

Steve threw his wings up in a mating display just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

#aurumacadicus answers #sunnysideprincess #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony

[callforspiderboy]

The life I gave up|| Natasha Romanoff × Fem reader

Summary:You and Natasha have a troubled break-up after her decision to go on a risky mission, after 3 years it's the first time she's seen you.

Warnings: Angst, flashbacks, all dialog takes place in the past, this writing was inspired by midnight rain-Taylor Swift.

(Marvel masterlist)

Sometimes we get exactly what we want, exactly what we choose, but we are still haunted. Natasha was sure of that as she stared at you in the corridor of the Shield agency. The doubt of what you were doing here flashed before her.

She probably looked at you too long, because now you look at her with kind, albeit resentful, eyes. She desperately wanted to look away, but she felt paralyzed. Two years, several kisses, multiple fights, passed in her eyes.

Fights, the reason this is the first time she's seen you in three years. Liar, her mind pointed out. The real reason this was the first time you'd seen each other in three years was the shield.

"You can't go, Natasha," you shout as you stand up, the redhead doesn't say anything, you know it won't change her decision. "It's a suicide mission, you know that" You cried close to Natasha's face, who only looked down, avoiding your eyes, your tears, your pain.

You weren't completely wrong about that mission, although Natasha didn't die as you were sure she would, that mission killed your relationship. Lie, her mind pointed out, Natasha's decision to go on that mission killed your relationship.

"I love you," you said, sitting on her with the biggest smile she'd ever seen. "I really love you." How can someone's eyes shine so brightly? Natasha wondered as she looked into yours. "Marry me" You wrapped your arms around her neck waiting for an answer, even though you both already knew what it would be "Yes, my love" you kissed her without waiting another second, the best kiss, Natasha thought.

Maybe it would have been better if she had said no, if she hadn't given you hope that she would be yours, she would be Natasha, not Black Widow, not any other identity, just Natasha.

"Natasha, if you go I don't want you to come back, this won't be our home, our garden, our wedding, this will be nothing" You said firmly hoping that Natasha would give up, but she didn't "Look at me, Natasha" It was cruel how she denied her feelings at that moment "Please, Natasha, look at me" The now low and broken tone of her voice made her look at you, your eyes were shining, now with tears, there was no smile, there were no kisses and soon there would be nothing.

You smiled at her in the corridor, not the big smile that was reserved for her, just a gentle smile. It reminded Natasha of where she was, staring at you in a corridor of the shield. She smiled back and you entered one of the many rooms in that corridor.

Secret identities, risky missions, fights and loneliness, that was the life she had chosen. Perfect family, holidays, children and a beautiful garden, that was the life Natasha had given up. You were the one Natasha had given up.

#natasha romanoff × reader #natasha romanoff #black widow × reader #black widow #black widow mcu #Black Widow × fem reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff × fem reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff × you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff mcu #marvel × reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu universe #natasha romanoff drabble #taylor swift #taylor swift inspired #midnight rain

[unfortunately-a-miraculous-fan]

Every goddamn day, I think about how Chameleon was a very stupid episode, but for the exact opposite reason that I initially thought it was.

I always thought it was because the entire class was acting unreasonably stupid, but they were actually pretty reasonable, all things considered.

It was Marinette's writing that was the issue.

You're not gonna complain about your assigned seat being moved around to accommodate a disabled new student, nor demand proof of her disability, that would just be a dick move. (It doesn't make sense for the ENTIRE CLASS to be moved around, but I'll ignore that point because it's just kind of a nitpick.)

Many members of the class have personally met at least one celebrity, with a few classmates even being celebrities themselves. Lila's stories are certainly out there, even by this class' standards. But it's her first day, and again, most regular people don't hound others for proof on claims like this, even the ridiculous claims. (It doesn't make sense for the class to be so enthralled by her stories, but I would just chalk that up to them being nice to the new kid. The show does get kind of ridiculous with how much the class trusts her later on though.)

Lila could've absolutely caught that napkin on instinct. It would've hurt, but she wouldn't be thinking about her injury because that's how instincts work. Lila actually almost drew unnecessary attention to herself by making up that "explanation" on the spot, as protecting herself with her injured wrist needed no defending in the first place.

The only reason Marinette knew about Lila's lies to Adrien is because she stalked the two of them, which Alya and Nino are rightfully distrustful of. (It's still completely stupid for them to ignore her story entirely though. That's potential evidence of Lila lying to someone. At the very least, they should've verified the story with Adrien. But they just completely blew it off, and that point is never brought up again.)

From the class' perspective, Marinette complained about accommodations made for the new girl's disability because she wasn't allowed to sit close to her crush anymore, demanded hard evidence of the new girl's claims despite having some ridiculous celebrity stories herself, threw a napkin at her, potentially making her wrist injury even worse when she protected herself out of pure instinct, and then stormed off when that didn't work out in her favor.

I don't like this episode, not because of the way the class was acting, but because they took the girl who is supposed to be the smartest character in the show, and had her make probably the worst possible decision in every single situation. There are fatal flaws that cause characters to make understandable mistakes, and then there are characters just ignoring the obvious right answers because that would make far too cohesive of a plot, I guess.

They could've literally had some Spy vs Spy esque shenanigans between Lila and Marinette where neither can openly admit what they both know the other knows and have to skirt around social barriers in order to make the other look bad while saving face themselves. That would not only write itself, but would make more sense given their respective characterizations and would allow for much more interesting drama and character dynamics across multiple seasons.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #ml analysis #ml critical

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: Tsukishima x fem reader

Requested: no

Genre: smut

Warning(s): cheating, unprotected sex, degradation

Summary: just smut

Word count: 837

Other works

Beta reader: none

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask. Moreover, if you loved it, don't forget to reblog and help me reach a wider audience.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

Tsukishima knows you like him. He’s aware that given the chance, you’d let him take you to new heights, letting him make you see stars. I mean, he’s already experienced your passion firsthand, so there’s little to no one to stop him from seeking it again, except perhaps your boyfriend.

Now, don’t get him wrong. Tsukishima isn’t one to tolerate adultery, especially when one of his friends does it. But for you, he sure can bend some rules. It’s not as if he’s in love with you; no, you’re not the type of woman he could fall for. But that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the intense pleasure he feels when buried deep inside you, releasing all his pent-up frustrations.

He’s aware of the fact that you love your boyfriend to death, despite all his flaws. As a matter of fact, he also knows that your boyfriend loves you just as much. Who else would forgive a cheating bitch like you over and over, even after she says she would change? Could never be him, but it doesn’t matter to him at all. All he cares about is getting his dick wet, and as it seems, you are one of the best pussies in the city, so why should he not use you to your full potential?

“Does your simp of a boyfriend have any idea that you are getting your insides rearranged by me right now?” Tsukishima taunts, thrusting into you with such force that it leaves your mind reeling.

“N-no,” you stutter, your grip on his shoulders weakening under the intensity of his movements. With a swift motion, he flips you over on the bed, positioning you to his liking, and plunges back into your slick, eager flesh, continuing his relentless assault.

“Can’t fuck you like I can, now can he?” he mocks, feeling your pussy clenching his cock like never before.

“N-no,” you barely manage to answer, your mind going hazy with pleasure.

“Tell me, who fucks you this good, huh? Who fucks you so good that you are fine with cheating on your bitch of a boyfriend, you whore?”

“You, Tsuki- ah-,” you manage to utter, your words barely coherent as he hits spots inside you with a precision no other man has ever achieved.

“Yes, you cheating whore, scream my name. Let everyone know who fucks you better than your boyfriend,” he groans as he slaps you hard on your ass, making you scream even more.

“God, you’re squeezing me so tightly,” he groans, his member throbbing inside you as your walls tighten around him, creating a velvety ring at the base of his shaft.

The sound of intense skin slapping fills the room, mingling with your wild cries of pleasure, making him almost come to the edge.

“Creaming my cock so well like the slut you are, gosh you are one of the best pussies I have had,” he says gripping onto your neck to cut off your air supply, as your insides start spasming.

Sensing that you were about to come, the man immediately went to rub your clit, making your body tense up even more. Without warning, you spill out on his cock, milking both of your juices.

It doesn’t take Tsukishima much longer to spurt his load inside you. With some more thrusts, he empties himself fully inside you. Plopping beside you, he slips his soft dick out of you and scoops the mixture of both your cums leaking from your pussy and makes you lick it off his fingers, as you whine because of overstimulation.

After some time, he chirps up. “This will probably be the last time we fuck. Yamaguchi wanted to set me up with this girl, and I don’t want to do this while going out on dates with her.”

You look at him bewildered, “but what about us?”

“Huh?” he asks, clearly confused.

“About us, Tsuki, what will you do about the fact that I’m not with my boyfriend but you?” you ask.

“Maybe teach him how to fuck you for real. Also, if you think I would be in a relationship with you, you are wrong. You cheated on your boyfriend! I don’t want that shit in my life; I would very much like my partner to be loyal, unlike you,” giving you a look of disgust he continues.

“I fucked you because you are a good booty call, and are always available, but it’s time you get your shit together and stop involving me in your problems, plus it’s better if we don’t talk anymore. I don’t want my potential girlfriend to get insecure because of our past.”

With that, he collects his clothes and is out of the apartment in seconds, leaving you rethinking the decisions you had made and what exactly brought you to this place you are. What turned you into this cheating, lying woman, so much so that the boy you had called your best friend for the longest time ever, now looks at you with disgust.

The end

#kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader smut #hq smut #tsukishima smut #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu x chubby reader smut #hq tsukki #hq tsukishima #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu tsukki

[blushydrangea]

25 with planymphia? 🥺🖤

blossoming romance writing prompts: 25. finding comfort in their scent.

Jane knew something was wrong when she closed the door behind her. Everything seemed to be in place, yes, but she trusted her gut feeling when it came to Nymphia.

It wasn’t unusual for their shared apartment to be quiet whenever her girlfriend was left alone — infrequent, but not unusual. Nymphia sometimes chose silence even with her, after a draining day of work or maybe because her thoughts were too loud and she needed to put them in order before coming back to Jane. She would still look for her then and curl on her lap like a cat, answering all conversation starters with hums then nudging Jane’s arm for her to shut up, too.

A silent apartment shouldn’t be enough to worry, yet she still took off her shoes faster than her regular pace, clicking her tongue impatiently when she missed the coat hanger by half an inch and had to pick her jacket up from the floor.

“I’m home!”

Nymphia’s reply of “Jane?” came from their bedroom, and she found herself sprinting there within seconds. There were tears hidden in Nymphia’s voice, a slight extra whine she would recognize in her sleep coming from her girl, and it made Jane nervous. Her girlfriend wasn’t not a crybaby, tears came more naturally to her than they ever could to Jane, but she usually had a good reason to cry.

She found Nymphia on the bed, 80% of her pretty face covered by the red hoodie she had on, one that belonged to Jane and was a personal favorite of hers. Further inspection also showed Nymphia had stolen the blanket Jane wrapped around herself every night, because her girlfriend kept hogging the covers. It was pressed to her chest as if it were a plushie.

Their eyes met, Nymphia’s chocolate color dimmed with flicks of red from crying, her whole face puffy. Jane wrapped her arms around her and kissed the tip of her pink nose, satisfied when it made her girlfriend's tense body relax in her embrace.

She kissed her more, of course, how could she not? A gentle kiss pressed to her forehead after pushing her yellow bangs aside, followed by a peck to her lips and two kisses to her cheeks. Jane would have kissed her for hours, it was actually her plan after coming home from work, except Nymphia’s smile was faltering and she looked ready to talk.

“Can you tell me what happened, baby?” Jane asked in the softest tone she could measure, pulling Nymphia to sit fully on her lap. She watched her girl make herself smaller inside the hoodie and hide her face on her chest, inhaling deeply.

“My mom and I got into a pretty big fight on the phone…” she started, hot tears wetting Jane's uniform shirt. She didn't care. “It was my fault, of course. I can't expect an old lady to change her ways, it's me who should be patient and–” 

“And you are,” Jane interrupted. “Your mom knows that, baby girl. She knows how much you care for her no matter the fights.”

Nymphia stayed on crying, so all Jane did was rub circles on her back and control her tongue. She found herself mere seconds away from telling her that crying over it would not fix a fight, and all she had to do was to wait it out until the next day, when she could message her mother and settle things for once.

If it were anyone else, Jane would have given that advice already, and probably would’ve felt pretty good about herself at that. Not with Nymphia, though, not the sweet, anxious soul she had. She felt things too intensely, couldn't handle not being able to instantly work through a tough situation. Jane had to be patient with her.

“I just wish I didn't lose my temper,” she whispered in a shaky voice after minutes of silence. Jane chuckled when Nymphia pulled a face, thankfully earning her another chuckle in return.

“Well, do you think you can fix it next time? Like, talk to her without losing your mind?” Jane asked in a playful tone.

A soft nod was her response. “There you go, baby. You just gotta wait for the next time you talk.”

Nymphia nodded again, and she took her hand in hers. 

“So, when are you gonna apologize for stealing my favorite hoodie and my blanket?”

The silly accusation made Nymphia laugh out loud, shrugging apologetically in spite of her smile. “M’sorry, they just… You weren’t here and they smell like you, so they make me feel a little bit better.”

If her heart skipped a beat at the adorable confession, it wasn’t anyone’s business. And if she blushed at the thought of her girlfriend needing her this badly, at least she could bury her face in Nymphia’s hair so it wasn’t visible.

“I can cover you in my scent now, if you’ll let me,” she replied quickly and wiggled her eyebrows, her second nature of keeping things unserious kicking in.

Nymphia kicked her leg as Jane’s hands flew to her waist, but when she spoke again, her voice gave away the laughter.

“Evil.”

#for the anon who requested the same prompt too! #mine #planymphia

[ivantillz]

find me;

ivantill, 4.1k, inspired by this post by @ivanttakethis Ivan returns - alive - after round 6 despite all odds but something is different about him. Wrong. Till is on his own to figure out what happened and how to fix it.

Till didn’t know how to describe what he was feeling – that wasn’t quite true; he had an idea. He was numb. He thought he’d been numb, before, but after watching Ivan die… now he knew what true numbness felt like.

He might not have expressed it enough, looking back. Just how much he appreciated having Ivan around. Maybe, he hadn’t even known yet how terribly empty this place would feel without him.

And now he would never get to tell him. He would never even get to talk to him again.

It was over, and frankly Till was too tired to keep fighting. It didn’t matter. His next opponent was Luka and he wasn’t naive enough to think he could win.

Strangely, he felt an odd sense of calm alongside the numbness. He was ready to go. He was ready to see if the aliens were truthful about this one thing, at least. Was there much of anything after death or just eternal darkness?

Nothingness?

Maybe that really would be better. To feel nothing. Be nothing.

Till heard a familiar bell; it was dinnertime. He curled up tighter, hugging his knees and closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry.

-

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he was finally jostled awake. He blinked, once, twice, eyes having a hard time adjusting to the brightness of day.

When he lifted his head, he was met with the face of a girl about his age, dark hair and dark eyes. Unassuming. He was pretty sure he’d seen her around once or twice. They’d never talked.

“I thought you might, um.” She was wringing her hands nervously. Till shouldn’t care. He had given up caring about anything, especially whatever she was struggling to tell him.

He sniffed. “If you have nothing to say, please go away.” He just wanted to go back to sleep. Sleeping was the only time he didn’t feel completely hopeless. At least in his dreams, he wasn’t alone.

“I know we haven’t talked much or anything,” she continued, speaking just a little too fast, “but I thought you might want to see this. You, um. You were close to him, right?”

She didn’t say his name. She didn’t need to.

Till didn’t even bother answering. He just blankly stared at her. Apparently, that was answer enough.

“You really need come see this,” she said again, this time with more urgency.

Till frowned. He should just ignore her. He didn’t want to entertain whatever game she was playing.

“I’m serious,” she was fidgeting again. “Please.”

He could’ve ignored her, but he didn’t. Even now, he supposed his curiosity had a way of getting the better of him. Standing up, he winced when his back cracked and his knees popped.

She smartly didn’t say anything and just led the way. Till followed slowly. It was only when she stopped abruptly that he finally looked up, barely avoiding running into her.

“Hey,” he barked. “Watch it!”

She stepped to the side, opening her mouth, probably to retort, but he couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears.

There, in the middle of a small crowd, was Ivan.

He didn’t even know what to focus on first – his hair, brushed back with a small clip on the side to keep it out of his face. His clothes, pure white and pristine. The smile on his face, warm and sweet.

But none of that mattered, really. Nothing mattered but the fact Ivan was here.

Ivan was alive.

Till didn’t even wait to see if the girl had anything else to say; he rushed past her and joined the crowd, pushing people out of the way. Some of them glared at him, some yelled, but he didn’t care.

He needed to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He needed to know Ivan was real.

When he finally reached the center of the crowd, he let out a shaky breath and just stared. Ivan was really there, standing right in front of him with a confused tilt of his head and an unnervingly polite smile.

Then Ivan opened his mouth and asked possibly the dumbest question he could:

“Are you okay?”

Till felt anger rush to the forefront of his many conflicting emotions, red hot and burning. “Am I okay?” he repeated in disbelief, and suddenly grabbed the collar of Ivan’s shirt. Ivan blinked, but didn’t move to stop him. “You seriously think you can do all that and then just ask me if I’m okay?”

Ivan stared back at him with a familiar blankness before suddenly he was smiling, soft and kind, “I’m sorry,” he said, and Till couldn’t remember ever hearing him apologize, before. “I don’t know what I did but I assure you I didn’t meant to upset you.”

He reached up and gently touched Till’s hands, still clutching his collar.

“If you would let go, maybe we can go somewhere private and talk.”

Till blinked, once, twice, before suddenly letting go like he’d been burned, his hands curling into fists at his sides “You don’t know what you did?” he repeated, slowly, icily. “Is this some kind of sick joke to you?”

His heart was thumping in his chest too fast, too hard. He felt like he was struggling to breathe.

“I really don’t,” Ivan replied softly. It was unnerving, hearing him talk like that. “But I’m assuming I did something to hurt you, and if I did, I really am sorry.”

Till bristled, fists tightening. He could feel something wet in both palms of his hands; blood, maybe, from where his nails were digging too deep.

“You really don’t remember?” he asked, terrified of the answer.

Ivan smiled again; it was too sweet. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Okay.” Till swallowed, forced his hands to relax at his sides. “Okay.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, he turned and ran.

-

For a while, he isolated himself and just tried to figure out what had happened. Maybe some kind of head trauma? That would’ve explained the memory loss, maybe, but Ivan was acting like a completely different person.

Before he had seen Ivan again - before he had gotten confirmation he was still alive - he had gone over all the things he wanted to say to him, good and bad.

Now he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. He avoided even crossing paths with Ivan for the first few days but then he realized something:

Ivan was avoiding him too. Not on purpose, it seemed, but somehow that realization was even more terrifying.

He used to do anything to get his attention - steal his things just to return them, start trivial fights, ask him to teach him about music (he never paid attention). Now he barely looked in his direction most days, too distracted with the handful of other contestants who were seemingly glued to his side.

Before, he hadn’t had any friends. Not for a lacking of trying - many people wanted to be friends with Ivan - but he had never even bothered trying to act interested.

Eventually they had stopped trying, of course, but now that had changed. It was like people could smell he was different, and they were right.

To make matters even worse, Till had overheard a few of Ivan’s conversations with some of the contestants. He wasn’t sure if Ivan meant it but when they would flirt, fluttering their eyelashes, pouting a little, Ivan would seem interested, smiling coyly.

That was possibly the most obvious sign something was very, very wrong.

Ivan didn’t do friends - not beyond what championship he had been able to forge with Till and Mizi, possibly Sua (before) - but he certainly hadn’t flirted with others.

He hadn’t even flirted with Till prior to their round, despite seemingly having some kind of feelings for him. Or maybe he had, but in unconventional ways. He certainly hadn’t been obvious about it.

(He wanted to talk to him - the real Ivan - understand what he really felt, but now he couldn’t. The Ivan of now apparently felt nothing for him.)

Could a head trauma do that? Till wasn’t educated in that kind of stuff; some of the others were, the way he was interested in music, but even they hadn’t had many chances to explore it with their limited resources. So when he asked, they simply apologized and said, honestly, “I don’t know. Maybe?”

He was grateful for the honesty but it had brought him no closer to figuring out what was going on, or how to reverse it (if that was even possible. He really hoped it was possible.)

-

Till finally reached a breaking point after Ivan won round 7.

(Since nobody had expected him to survive, and it was unprecedented, they had decided to add two new contestants to the lineup; one to go up against Till and one to go up against Ivan, extending the season to 9 rounds overall. The finale would make history as - for the first time - three contestants would go up against each other at once. Till really didn’t care about dissecting what that meant for them, in the future.)

Obviously he was glad he had won - he had been watching the broadcast with bated breath - but he had won by singing a new piece. Till felt an odd sense of comfort, hearing his voice again (maybe the only thing that hadn’t changed) but then he had started to pay closer attention to the lyrics.

And it was wrong. All wrong. Since when did Ivan sing of birds flying through clear blue skies, free and fearless? Of requited love, sweet and true?

It might’ve been his voice, but those weren’t his words. Something was wrong. Ivan was here, but he wasn’t.

Then finally Till made a realization. It was a working theory, of course, but at least it was a start.

-

It started with Till watching Ivan even closer (something he didn’t think was possible). He started to slowly notice other details that were wrong.

Just little things. Things that might not have been noticeable to other people. Like the way Ivan’s laugh was a little off (slightly too high-pitched compared to before). The way his eyes were brighter, now, but somehow lacking life at the same time.

Till realized he reminded him of a doll. Too happy. Too polite. Even Mizi - sweet as she was - hadn’t been nearly as perfect. It was unnerving.

Once - still testing his theory - Till had even spilled his soup on him during dinnertime. Just to see. Ivan had barely spared him a glance, a polite smile. “Don’t worry,” he had said before disappearing to change.

He returned with another white shirt. Laughed with everyone else at a joke that was objectively not funny.

That was when Till was certain he was on the right track. They had done something to him. It wasn’t surprising, in a way. They had experimented on Till many times before, after all, but this was different. This was Ivan; the pride and joy of the season.

It was risky to mess with him, but he supposed if it was that or his death, the aliens had weighed their options and decided this was the better outcome.

And truthfully, it had worked out for them. Ivan had gotten even more support than ever after his latest round; brands were lining up to work with him, he had a new interview being published almost every week.

But Till wouldn’t be so easily satisfied. Even if this Ivan was easier to deal with. Even if he smiled more. Till missed tussling and rolling around in the grass with him. He even missed the times Ivan would steal his things just to return them a few days later.

He missed Ivan, his friend, and possibly something more, one day. He still wasn’t sure; wouldn’t be until they could actually talk about what had happened on that stage. But either way, he would find a way to snap him out of this.

-

Easier said than done. Now it was hard to even get a moment alone with Ivan, seeing as he was always surrounded by people.

Finally Till did what he had to do (and he wasn’t exactly proud of it): he pretended to be hurt, and Ivan - this new version of him, at least - couldn’t resist the bait. He helped him to his room and stood there, seemingly unsure of what to do next. Till pretended to massage his ankle.

“Thank you,” he said, and a part of him meant it.

Whether or not this was the Ivan he knew, he still didn’t like him looking so lost. It was jarring, compared to the easy confidence he usually carried himself with. Before and after. The confidence had always been the one consistent thing across both versions of him, although it had certainly manifested in different ways.

Ivan smiled then, looking more sure of himself. That smile - bright and full as it was - still didn’t manage to quite reach his eyes. Till knew this was it. He had to take this chance and find out a way to reverse whatever they had done to him, if that was possible.

(It had to be; he didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t.)

For now he just had to keep him here with him, separated from all the others.

“Can you sit with me for a second?” he asked, and Ivan didn’t even hesitate before joining him on the bed that felt more like a concrete slab with a blanket over it.

He even sat politely, hands together in his lap, back a perfectly straight line. He was still smiling. “Did you need anything else?”

Till hesitated for a moment, mentally scrambling for an excuse to keep him here longer. “My ankle really hurts,” he blurted, “even worse than before.” He paused, biting his lip, still thinking. Then he thought of it, the perfect excuse. “Could you maybe look at it?”

“I’m not sure I’d be able to tell you anything,” he replied despite already moving to the floor. Till watched, heart pounding in his chest, as Ivan gently touched his ankle, lifting his foot a little.

He should’ve prepared a bit more, maybe, because his ankle was perfectly fine. No bruising, no cuts. Still he winced, frowning. “It’s sore,” he said, pointing to a random spot. “Around here.”

Ivan nodded, softly running his fingers over the spot with pursed lips.

Till knew he should’ve been thinking more, formulating a plan. He couldn’t just keep Ivan here forever looking at his ankle, and he was no closer to finding out what the aliens had done (or how to reverse it.)

Until he saw it:

A ring, perfectly discreet, around Ivan’s finger. It wasn’t quite silver but an odd hue that nearly blended into the color of Ivan’s skin. Like he - or someone - hadn’t wanted others to notice it.

Till felt his heart beating a little faster. There was no way, right? Surely it couldn’t have been that easy. All these weeks - all this pain - had been caused by a ring?

“Your finger,” he said, voice thick. He hoped Ivan wouldn’t notice; he didn’t, seemingly, still focused on Till’s ankle. “Where did you get that ring?”

Now Ivan looked up. For a long moment he just stared before finally he blinked, once, glancing down at the ring around his finger. “It was a gift.”

Till nodded slowly. “From who?”

“I - ” Ivan stopped, eyebrows furrowing as he idly spun the ring around his finger. “I don’t quite remember, it seems.”

Till knew this was it. He was onto something. He slid off the bed to join Ivan on the floor; Ivan gasped, just a quick breath, gesturing at his ankle with eyes full of concern. Till didn’t know if it was real - his concern. He didn’t know what was real anymore but in this moment he liked to believe it was, as unfounded as it was.

“I’m okay,” he assured him. “I just, can I - ” How did he ask for this, he wasn’t really sure. Finally he gave up and just grabbed Ivan’s hand.

Ivan let him, even as his eyebrows furrowed again, watching as Till gently turned his hand in a few different directions. It was a simple ring, no stone or decorations. It was loose enough for Ivan to spin it around his finger with ease, but too tight to fall off by any accident.

“Do you mind…?” he asked as his fingertips brushed the ring. Surely it wouldn’t be so easy, but it was still worth a try.

Ivan blinked; there was something lost in his gaze, almost like he wasn’t quite seeing. Then suddenly he was pushing Till back with enough force he yelped as his back hit the edge of his bed.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, icily, as he stood and turned toward the door.

It was all wrong. The Ivan that had been, here, for the last few weeks would’ve never reacted like that. So aggressive and cold. That was when Till knew there was no other option: that ring had to go. Whatever was going on, it was clear the aliens had put in some kind of safety measure to keep Ivan from letting anyone take it off.

Whether or not it would magically fix everything was unimportant. It was a start, at least. Till scrambled back to his feet and grabbed Ivan by the arm, yanking as hard as he could. Ivan stumbled, for just a second, but it was enough for Till to get the upper hand he needed.

He spun them around and pushed Ivan onto his bed; he fell with a huff. Before he could fully recover, Till was on top of him, pinning his arms down by his sides. Ivan had always been stronger than him but thankfully with the element of surprise and whatever adrenaline was coursing through his veins it seemed he had managed to subdue him.

“What are you doing?” Ivan asked; his voice no longer had that icy coolness to it, but he was obviously still not happy.

Till squeezed his wrists, hard. “I know you don’t remember me or - or what happened,” flashes of that night on the stage, painful and sharp, played through his mind, “but I know you cared about me and I don’t know if you knew at the time how much I cared about you too.”

Ivan just stared up at him, unblinking. Till took a shaky breath.

“I wish I had let you known, before that night.” His eyes burned but he forced the urge to cry back, swallowing thickly. He needed to focus right now. “Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have done what you did. Maybe we could’ve found another way. You had always been the smartest out of any of us. If anyone could’ve done it, it was you.”

Ivan finally blinked, his mouth pressing together into a thin line. Till couldn’t spend too long wondering if any of this was getting through to him. He just had to keep talking.

“Instead you felt like the only way to save me was through sacrificing yourself, and - ” It was too late; his eyes watered, blurring his vision just a little. “I was so mad at you, at first. I was so angry I was sick. You - ” Till paused, shaking his head, hard. “You had no right to do that. To decide for me what I needed.”

He paused, took another shaky breath. Ivan still didn’t say anything.

“I missed you so much, Ivan,” his voice wavered with each word. “I thought I was never going to see you again and I was so numb. I realized I cared about you, more than I ever realized and - and you weren’t even here for me when I needed you the most.” He sniffed, squeezing his wrists even tighter. “You selfish asshole.”

Finally Ivan opened his mouth to say something. His eyes looked shiny, glistening. Till didn’t even bother waiting to see what he had to say; he surged down and slammed their lips together so hard their teeth clanked together, sending a jolt of pain through his jaw.

Ivan made a small noise in the back of his throat. Surprise, maybe. Till used the moment to let go of his wrist and feel for the ring; as soon as he found it, he yanked it off without hesitation and threw it across the room. He heard the distant clattering and then Ivan was kissing him back with fervor, taking his face in his hands.

Till felt something warm in his chest - hope - as he shifted, deepening the kiss. He was almost afraid to stop, afraid that he’d been wrong and nothing would be changed. Afraid he was kissing a stranger, not the Ivan he knew and desperately needed back.

But finally he had no choice; he pulled back and stared down at Ivan, eyes half-lidded, mouth wet and swollen from the aggressive kissing.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please say something.”

Ivan blinked, some clarity seeming to return to his eyes. His tongue poked out, licking at the corner of his mouth where there was just the smallest spot of blood, probably Till’s fault.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and for a moment Till felt the world stop. He had failed. But then Ivan’s hands were at his sides, holding on gently. “I never even considered how you would feel.”

Till sniffed, waited. Didn’t want to get his hopes up too much.

“I can’t even lie and say I thought you wouldn’t care.” Ivan smiled, a small thing. It was nothing like the fake smiles he’d been giving for weeks now. “Because you’re you, and you care more than you let on.”

He didn’t even realize he was shaking until Ivan smoothed a hand down his back, trying to calm him.

“But one of us had to die up there, didn’t they?” Ivan’s hand stopped, low on his back. He let out a soft sigh. “And it couldn’t be you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Till swallowed around the lump in his throat, almost too big to breathe. “You kissed me,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation, just a quiet acknowledgment. “You asshole, you kissed me and then left me here to try and pick up all the pieces by myself.”

He wasn’t really angry.

“And you just kissed me,” Ivan said, slowly. “Good way to distract me, hm?”

Till couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let things go unsaid between them, not after everything. What if something happened again? What if this was his only chance?

“I did use it as a distraction,” he admitted, but then, “I’d been thinking about it for a while.”

Ivan’s hand twitched against his back. “You had this plan for that long?”

“No,” Till answered truthfully before leaning down a little; their noses were only a couple inches from touching. “You should’ve told me, Ivan. Given me a chance to decide what I really wanted.”

Ivan stared back at him, unwavering. “You wouldn’t have chosen me,” he said with a confidence that sent a pang through Till’s chest, and maybe he would’ve been right, once upon a time, but things were so different now.

They could never go back and change the past, as much as Till wanted to, but the least he could do was be honest with himself moving forward.

“Maybe not back then,” he admitted, because he wasn’t fond of lying and it felt important to be honest here. “But I’m not the person I was back then, am I?”

Ivan gazed up at him with an intensity that made him shiver. “No,” he agreed. “I suppose you aren’t. Because you never would’ve gone through this much trouble for me, before.”

“I always cared about you, Ivan,” he replied, softening his voice, needing him to hear it. “I think I just didn’t know how much.”

Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. Till didn’t know what he was going to say, but that was okay. He wouldn’t push it. They had a lot to figure out over the next few hours - like how they were going to hide Ivan breaking through whatever the aliens had done to him, or if they even could hide it because Till didn’t want to risk putting the ring back on, or even where they stood as friends or more - but for now none of that mattered.

Ivan was back, he was here with him, gazing up at him like he used to, when he used to think Till was never looking (and he wasn’t, most of the time, but not all the time.) And Till knew he would do anything to ensure he never left him again.

#alnst #ivantill #alien stage #ivantill fic #alnst till #alnst ivan #mywriting #thank u op for giving me permission to use this idea #bc this is my fav ivantill fic i've written yet

[vettelsvee]

SHE'S NOT HANNA | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | history series masterlist | season 1

history series season 2: part 1 | part 2.1 | part 2.2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

summary: seb overhears di talking with her sister only for him to find out her birthday is next monday... and that he has confused feelings about the intern

word count: 3507

warnings: bad language. mention to threesomes. much disrespect towards diana from a certain driver. narrated on seb's pov. i remind you this is a fictional work and everything you read here is not real.

taglist: [@theseerbetweenus @annewithaneofthegreengable @vincentvanshoe @formulaonebuff] if you wanna be tagged in each part just tell me in the comments <3

feedback, as well as reblogs and comments, are truly appreciated!

2009 Bahrain Grand Prix Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir

April 25th

Saturday

Sebastian

The qualifying session in Bahrain went well, but it could have gone much better. That third place on the grid for the race the next day could have been a pole position if Rocky hadn't insisted on using the same amount of fuel we would start the race with tomorrow. Even Diana had said that with about two liters less it would have been better!

There was still some tension in the garage because our results hadn't been as expected, but I tried not to dwell on it as I watched the sun begin to set on the horizon, listening to my engineer's analysis and the deafening noises of the mechanics, whom I admired for working tirelessly on Mark's car and mine. The conversation Rocky and I were engrossed in was so fruitful that, to our surprise, we had been analyzing every single piece of data we could extract from the other drivers and, especially, discussing the improvements that could be made the next day for nearly three hours.

Di had been with us for most of the time, with a concentration that pleasantly surprised us. When her phone started ringing, the engineer's insistence that she answer the call, despite her attempts to insist it wasn't important, finally made a move a few meters away from us to take it.

I tried not to pay attention in what the blonde was talking about. After all, it was probably related to her personal life. As I studied the graphs and numbers in front of me, I couldn't help but get distracted when her soft voice, speaking in German, rose slightly:

"Yes, Ame, I understand," she tried to whisper calmly, failing miserably. Many of those present began to look at her curiously, wanting to know what my teammate's call was about. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be home on Monday night so don't get your hopes up too much... it's not like Dad is going to behave differently now that I'm away from home most of the time."

As much as I wished the latter hadn't made me want to know more about Wagner's personal life, I made every effort to focus my gaze and open my ears to the data I was being given, but it was totally impossible.

I hated myself because I couldn't forget about her, especially when all she did was raise her voice more and more, even catching Helmut's attention, who seemed to be in a bad mood.

"It's just another day," she continued, breathing in and out for relaxation. "Don't get me wrong: I know it's my birthday, but after so many years without celebrating it, I feel like it's just another day. Besides," she added, "it's good for me because I can focus on studying during the flight back home."

Listening to that made me completely stop paying attention to the conversation with Rocky, and I blatantly stared at the girl, who was still on the phone. I didn't know how to react to that, but I also couldn't find out much more about what she was saying because, as if she had realized that we were all paying attention to her, she switched to what sounded like Spanish. A perfect Spanish that not even Fernando spoke.

I might have been born to drive because it was the only thing I managed to do well, but... why did she do everything right?

"Seb, are you listening?"

"Uh... yeah."

My response was as calm as possible, but I realized I had failed miserably as the man in front of me began shaking his head, continuing to talk to me about things that had stopped mattering to me several minutes ago. My mind couldn't stop thinking about Di's birthday. Knowing that she hadn't celebrated it for a long time, for whatever reason, made me feel quite sorry, especially when I looked back at the last celebration Hanna and my mother had prepared for me at home.

Seeing that my mind was increasingly wandering, Rocky decided to let me go, but not without reminding me that I should be as calm as possible that afternoon so as not to interfere with tomorrow's results.

That's what he thought, because I certainly didn't plan to end the day in the calmest way.

Quickly, I got up from my seat and headed towards the entrance of the box from the pit lane, running. Seeing Mark standing with his mechanics, his arms slightly crossed and covered in grease up to his elbows, relaxed me a little for some reason; although, deep down, I was dying of nerves to tell him about the idea that had occurred to me and that I knew made no sense, but that I would still like to carry out.

At least someone would rid me of the birds my head had created.

"I know you don't care, but I think I have a very good idea."

"Do you know how to screw over the rest of the teams so we can at least win the constructors championship?"

Was this guy okay, or was stress making him say such nonsense?

"What? No!" I quickly replied while laughing, trying to get to the point and not beat around the bush. "Listen to me, and then you can say whatever you want, okay?" The Australian nodded, so I didn't hesitate to speak. "Monday is Di's birthday, and we're going to throw her a surprise party after the race," I affirmed, convincing myself that everything would go according to my sudden plans.

Webber looked confused, possibly because he was either surprised by my decision or completely agreed with it.

"Have you talked to anyone about this? Is Britta okay with you getting carried away? Are you sure Hanna won't mind? Does Diana know that you know her birthday in on Monday?"

His voice didn't stop for a moment, and I could even hear him getting breathless because he didn't pause for a second to catch his breath. His constant questions were making me more uneasy than I already was, so I didn't hesitate to cut him off.

"No," I began answering each of his questions. "No, and I don't care. Hanna is very understanding about the whole Diana thing, and she's the only thing that matters here; just because my girlfriend isn't the center of my life for once doesn't mean anything, Di deserves it."

"Okay..." my teammate replied, not very convinced, exerting more force in his crossed arms. "What do you need help with?"

Dam., I hadn't prepared anything because I hadn't planned to get to the point where Mark Webber actually agreed with me and wanted to help me with a crazy idea.

"Well... I thought we could do it at the hotel, right after the race," I explained as my mind projected a beautiful party with lots of balloons, a huge cake, and many gifts. "In a calm way, you know Di isn't usually into big parties," I clarified, remembering all the times she had been offered to come party with us, but she had politely declined, not limiting herself to making excuses. "I have to talk to other drivers first to see if they agree. What do you think?"

"Once we're in trouble, do things right," he replied. "Don't worry about anything now. Go talk to whoever you need to, and in the meantime, I'll call the hotel to reserve a large hall where we can all fit and you can fill it with confetti and stuff."

While my relationship with the light brown-eyed man was good, and I knew I could partly be myself when I spent time with him, I hadn't reached the point of trust to beg him for help with something. I suppose he thought the same of me, and now he would surely want to kill me for the mess I had just gotten him into; but he hid it perfectly because his smile never left his face.

"Thanks, Mark," I replied sincerely. "This means a lot to me, and I'm sure it does to Di too."

"Don't mention it, Seb. I'm happy to help you make your favorite paddock girl happy," he said, using the phrase I usually referred to the girl with, giving me a pat on the shoulder.

Immediately afterward, after several more glances and making sure the Australian didn't reveal the plan in front of the blonde, I began my journey through the paddock. Although at first I was a little worried about how reluctant people might be to my proposal, I ended up surprising myself because the vast majority of team bosses, drivers, and various members of the staff from the different teams agreed to come the next day to celebrate Di's twenty-first birthday.

Throughout all that hustle and bustle I avoided Britta, whom I ran into a couple of times. I felt guilty for not telling her what I was planning, but I was aware that she was going to give me hell as soon as she had the chance, and she was going to call me everything but nice. I knew that lately she had gotten much closer to the Austrian, and they had made some plans together, but there were still certain topics that my public relations and I were still avoiding, and that at the least opportune moment were going to come up.

Lewis and Fernando were the most excited to hear the proposal, even encouraging me to keep spreading the news. Others, like Rosberg, almost made me lose my nerves.

"We have to do something that surprises her! Man, it's Di's birthday, and if you say she hasn't celebrated it in forever, we have to make it even more unforgettable!"

Nico was so excited that it seemed like the celebration was for him. He kept raising his arms and that, along with the fact that he didn't stop using the nickname I had given to the girl, just made me angrier and angrier.

I was overreacting, and I couldn't deny that I was getting jealous because of the close relationship he seemed to have with the blonde. The affection with which he spoke about her was by no means similar to the one I had for, for example, Karina.

"Can you calm down for once?" I whispered angrily as I tried to calm his gestures. "You're not five years old and someone just gave you a Tamagotchi, damn it."

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing, Vettel?"

I felt Nico's penetrating gaze analyzing my expression, which was probably a mess. His words, totally contrary to what I thought he was going to say, were loaded with insinuation and provocation, and he knew it perfectly; I was smarter than him, and I wasn't going to play his game.

Before answering him, I clenched my teeth and forced myself to take a deep breath as I slowly counted to ten, trying to keep my calm as best as I could despite the growing anger that was quickly building up inside me.

"What are you talking about, Nico?" I asked, using the same tactic he was using and fixing my eyes on his.

I didn't understand why he was asking that, especially when he had no idea about my personal life, except that Prater was my girlfriend, of course. Everyone knew that except Diana, and I hoped it would stay that way until I found the right moment to tell her, or until they met each other.

"This whole surprise party for Diana," he continued, not abandoning the provocative tone that was bothering me so much. "Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" he repeated threateningly.

What right did this guy have to question what I was doing or not doing with my personal life? If Roeske barely controlled anything about me, even though that was his job, this jerk wasn't going to do it.

"It's none of your business, Rosberg," I replied flippantly.

My compatriot smiled as if he had gotten what he wanted: to anger me and make me snap.

"I don't know. I just wonder what Hanna would think if she found out about all this. Do you think she would be happy to see you bending over backward to have a stranger kneeled in front of you?"

The mention of my girlfriend made something stir in my stomach.

He knew perfectly well how I was feeling at that moment, and as much as my angry gaze was begging him to stop, he didn't seem willing to. 

"And what do you think Diana would say if your girlfriend showed up unexpectedly at her birthday party? They would finally know about each other's existence, and it would be a perfect gift for your little pet!"

The blond's provocations were starting to go too far. I could feel my jaw tensing and my fists clenching. I was trying to keep my composure, God or whatever exists knew it well, but I couldn't take it anymore. Not anymore.

"Don't you dare talk about Di like that, Nico. You're crossing the line."

"I think I know what surprise you're preparing for Wagner after the party: a threesome with her and Hanna," he continued. "Well, that would be more to make you happy than them."

That comment was the last straw. I wasn't going to allow him to speak badly of either of the two girls, but I wasn't going to say anything at the moment because I knew that the punch I could receive in the face from Rosberg would cause me more problems than, if I was honest with myself, I didn't give a damn about.

Therefore, without saying another word, I turned around and headed towards the parking lot at the same time I heard the comments from the Williams driver calling me a coward, unfaithful, idiot, and a bunch of insults that I tried not to care about but definitely were affecting me more than I wanted them to. I realized this when I reached my car and kicked one of the bins next to it so hard that it was hard for me to walk the few meters that separated it from the driver's door.

On my way to the mall, doubts began to torment me. It was the first time I gave myself the opportunity to think about myself and what it seemed I was experiencing.

Was I being a good boyfriend to Hanna, or was I just behaving like a jerk who sometimes thought of another girl when he saw her? Was that fair to Di, or was it totally normal given the admiration I had for the Austrian?

As I made my way through the streets of Bahrain, what I was most afraid to ask myself was what had begun to flood my mind in a worrying way: did I truly love Hanna, or our relationship had become a habit that I couldn't break out due to the fear of the unknown?

I tried not to think too much about it because she didn't deserve it, but I couldn't avoid it anymore. Since Diana had come into my life in a closer way, I had been avoiding my feelings, and now, now that I finally seemed to recognize that something was wrong with myself, the mental block began to make itself present, along with the tears streaming down my cheeks as I drove in silence except for the constant echo in my head of Nico Rosberg's insults, which hadn't stopped since I lost sight of him.

When I arrived at the mall and parked the car clumsily, in a position that didn't even correspond to the white lines drawn on the asphalt, I took out my cell phone and saw that, in addition to a call from my partner, along with several text messages from her, there were a multitude of voicemail messages from Britta, possibly from missed calls. That only made me feel worse: the woman had only tried to communicate with me for, surely, something important.

I called her, and she didn't take long to answer. Her voice sounded really worried, but I didn't give her the opportunity to talk much because I felt the need to unload everything that had been inside me for so long:

"Britta... I need to talk to you because you are my mother when I don't have mine by my side," I murmured, my voice breaking because I couldn't contain my emotion. "I have so many doubts in my head, and I don't know what to do anymore."

"Of course, I'm here to listen to you. What's wrong? I saw you today in the paddock very excited preparing the party that I found out you're going to throw for Diana tomorrow."

I sighed, defeated and, why not say it, excited by her calm, calm voice, and by her last sentence. My words flowed in such a way that it seemed like I had been preparing them for days, and I ended up revealing more things than I had planned to do at first, including my biggest doubt. She listened attentively, nodding with small articulations as I shared my concerns.

"If I'm in a relationship, and I wanted to punch Diana's father when I found out they didn't celebrate her birthday, it's for a reason, right?"

"Is that what's bothering you?" the blonde wanted to know. "Do you think I didn't already know?"

I tensed up at what I suspected. Sometimes I was worried about how much Britta knew me.

"I know you've been thinking a lot about her, Seb," she revealed, "just as I know that's exactly what's been going through your head for longer than you'd like."

Yes, since the Saturday before the race in Monza, when I accidentally fell asleep in Di's bed.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing," I finally confessed. "I don't know if this is fair to Hanna."

"Before you're honest with her, you have to be honest with yourself. You can't pretend to have feelings you don't have, and if that's what's making you doubt, you need to clear your mind, slowly, but surely."

She was right, but saying it was easier than doing it. Nor could I afford to think about my love life in the middle of a Formula 1 season that, let's face it, was going pretty well for me.

"Di is different, and I won't deny that I'm attracted to her," I continued to explain, praying that she wouldn't judge my feelings, "but it's in a totally different way than Hanna."

"How so different?" Roeske asked curiously. "Different in what way, Seb?"

"In every way," I replied with determination. "It's as if at the same time they're the same, but at the same time, so different... She's not Hanna, Britta."

A muffled scream on the other end of the phone made me tense up in my seat. At the same time, I began to hear more noise, but I didn't decide to steer the conversation to find out where Britta was so that such a noise could be heard.

"I mean, Di is unique," I continued, trying to explain myself a little better, "and I can't compare her to anyone else. It's going to sound very selfish, but..."

"Say it," the woman demanded.

"I want to find out if what I feel for her is real.”

If even I was impressed by what I had just said, surely the woman on the other end of the call was too.

"Sebastian Vettel," if Britta Roeske said my full name, it wasn't a good sign, "I need you to listen to this carefully," indeed, she was right. "Sometimes, in life, we have to take risks to find out what we want and, moreover, what’s actually made for us."

"What do you mean?"

"That you should be honest and, especially, be careful with your feelings and those of the people you love, or say you love," she added. "If you think what you feel for Diana is more than just a whim, you really love her, and you think that the right thing to do is to fight for her, do it without fear."

If only the answer were easier than a simple yes or a simple no…

I hadn't even hung up on Roeske and I was already in a whirlwind of emotions, fighting with myself about my feelings. There was no doubt that, as much as Britta's words kept swirling in my mind, there was no better advice than one's own.

I didn't want to hurt anyone, and I was afraid of losing people who had become a fundamental pillar in my life over a simple slip-up that would eventually turn into a mistake.

Perhaps, for the sake of the mental health of more than one person, it was best to ignore how much, more and more, I cared about Diana Wagner, and settle for the love I believed was meant for me.

#formula 1 #sebastian vettel #formula one #sebastian vettel x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 #sv5 #vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel x female oc #sebastian vettel x oc #nico rosberg #red bull racing #red bull f1 #red bull seb #emma stone #diana vettel #history #history sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel history

[feroluce]

Connecting dots tonight (didn't connect shit, I've connected them, etc) because of this post about item descriptions to do with Sampo I saw a few days ago and! I feel like there are so many interesting things that could be implied from this!! Because the recipe for the High-Tech Protective Gear is given to you by Bronya (before the IPC invaded Belobog!), who says this little interesting tidbit about it:

This is an item from before the Eternal Freeze, 700 years ago. Even to the rest of the universe, it would be SORELY outdated. It cannot be made in Belobog anymore due to the loss of entire eras. It is effectively useless; this recipe had to be somewhere gathering dust, kept around solely for archival purposes. There is no reason for Sampo to know about this item or have any idea how it works and yet. AND YET. He's just running around selling knock offs!!

He shouldn't even know how to make these, but the fact that he does means Sampo either

had the blueprints from off-world before he came to Belobog (most likely but also most boring answer)

broke into Qlipoth Fort and copied down the blueprints (completely plausible - he's possibly shown doing exactly that in his splash art)

found another copy out in the ruins of the old world (also completely plausible - Sampo is astoundingly resilient against both the Fragmentum and the cold, as noted by Lynx haha)

Meanwhile, the Inferior Protective Gear recipe comes from an NPC in the underground, and when she gives it to you, she talks about building robots and the robot fighting scene sorry about the quality I didn't have screenshots for her dialogue so I had to use wiki

Which makes me feel like it's safe to say that the inferior gear is mostly being used in the underground, especially by the vagrants and their robots for fights, because...well, who else would use it? Cocolia has made it illegal to explore too far into the Snow Plains, and besides, it's way too dangerous for most civilians even WITH gear. The Silvermane Guards are funded by official sources, they have no reason to rely on Sampo for armor. So it makes sense for an underground mechanic to know the recipe; there's probably not as much market for it up in the overworld.

And if you look at the descriptions, you can see why this probably wasn't something that could be made in Belobog anymore; it requires a charging system of some sort.

We know it's not a problem with the basic materials because all three ingredients can be found right in the administrative district. But the underground only has two of them; somehow, despite being in the planet's crust, and literally crawling with robots...there is no metal down there. It isn't found anywhere, sold by anyone, or dropped by anything. And metal just so happens to be the one ingredient Sampo replaces in his knock off version.

The Inferior Gear uses trash instead, something which, going by the words of that same mechanic, is MORE than abundant in the underground- any good quality parts are extremely difficult to come by down there.

Anyway, all his shadiness aside, I love the implication that Sampo is smart enough to be able to take this item that no one else on the planet probably knows anything about, and was able to figure out what he could replace, and how, and with what, in order to make it easily accessible to the people of the underground, even without access to overworld resources. Because his version DOES work! It literally gives you the exact same amount of defense boost as the IPC one!

Someone should absolutely still knock him around for it, though, world's most slappable face fr fjkdsjfdkjafk

#hsr sampo #hsr sampo koski #sampo koski #honkai star rail #hsr #belobog #he's such a slimeball fjklsdajfkld #I feel like there is something to be said though about the fact that if anyone in the underground is buying this shit armor off Sampo like. #it's either his armor or it's nothing. the overworld isn't exactly sending them a lot of protective gear. #And I'm sure they'd rather have cheap armor they can make and afford themselves than nothing at all. #I wonder if Wildfire would be one of his customers for this stuff or not? #like I think Sampo would be a lot more upfront with them if they were- he's not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds him. #And Natasha is probably his most important client. We already know Sampo smuggles weapons and is her arms dealer. #It's canon that he brought Seele her scythe- #-and I wonder if it's coincidence that Natasha uses a giant weapon that looks similar to the Silvermane hand canons. #I could totally see Sampo trying to sell his armor to ring fighters to fix the matches in his favor though FJKDLSJAFDKLJ #we already know he bets on the fight club from his About Luka line and his dialogue from the Cyrille the Fool quests #so I'm sure he'd be gambling on the robot fights out by Svarog's encampment too haha #do you think they have penny bets for the kids for that kind of fight #crying imagining Hook tagging along and betting single credits on the fights alongside Sampo's much heftier bets #she still wins more than he does JKLDJSKLAJDS

[queenlucythevaliant]

Do you think Behemoth and Leviathan were actually real and happened to be dinosaurs? Behemoth was a huge and formidable land dinosaur while Leviathan was a pleisiosaur. Technically, plesiosaurs weren't dinosaurs, but you get my idea?

So I've been sitting on this ask for a little bit because I honestly didn't know what tone to take in answering it. I don't know your background, and thus don't know whether to be more blunt or delicate. Ultimately, I settled on blunt, simply because I could not figure out how to answer this question delicately. That said, I hope you take this in the gracious spirit in which I have written it.

SO. That's a hard no from me, friend. Let's discuss!

So typically when you hear people say that Behemoth and Leviathan were dinosaurs (or dinosaur adjacent), it's in the context of arguments in favor of young earth creationism. It's a fairly big talking point with the Answers in Genesis crowd. Basically, they make the argument that Biblical texts referencing creatures that superficially resemble dinosaurs are evidence that humans and dinosaurs could have lived at the same time.

This works out if the earth is only 6,000 years old, but not if we take paleontology, geology, or human evolution at all seriously. The writer of Job would have had no way of knowing that dinosaurs and plesiosaurs existed because they had already been extinct for many millions of years. Even if you want to argue that maybe God is describing creatures with which Job was unfamiliar, it still doesn't track. God's address to Job treats these creatures as something for which he has a point of reference. It also just doesn't make sense why God would choose this moment to reveal the existence of dinosaurs. Talk about a tangent!

I don't know where you fall on the spectrum of Christian beliefs regarding origins and the age of the earth, but I've written at length on this blog about the case for theistic (old earth) evolution, so I won't rehash that here. Check out my all truth is God's truth tag or shoot me an ask if you want more on that. Regarding Behemoth and Leviathan, however, I think some of the same exegetical skills involved in reading (or misreading) Genesis are involved in the relevant chapters of Job.

When God addresses Job out of the whirlwind, he uses poetic language. He's talking about a real thing (his sovereignty over the universe), but it's something that transcends human comprehension on an overwhelming scale. Much like we can't ever hope to wrap our heads around deep time, we're simply not capable of grasping the extent of God's sovereignty.

When God describes storehouses of hail reserved for the day of battle, are we supposed to literally think that there is a giant building in heaven where God keeps all his hail? Or is it a picture of God's might as both creator and judge of the universe? If we know our Bibles, we see that hail is frequently used as a tool of judgement against God's enemies: Egypt, the Canaanites, apostate Israel, and ultimately the rebellious earth. So when God describes his storehouses of hail, we see the reality of his total control over the arc of history, his ultimate justice, his orderliness.

Likewise, Behemoth and Leviathan use the established language and symbolism of Scripture to convey truths for which plain language wouldn't suffice. Behemoth's description isn't that of any real animal, living or extinct. God paints a picture of a creature that no man could ever hope to tame and expresses that he, God, can.

Leviathan is the longer and more interesting image; it's a mighty creature of the deep that breathes fire and cannot be controlled. We know that in Biblical parlance, water is frequently associated with chaos (too many places to enumerate, but Psalms, the Prophets, and Revelation are good starting places). Leviathan is a picture of this chaos: mighty, rearing, deadly, uncontrollable, terrifying. Then God says to Job, "Can you draw this creature out with a fishhook? Can you make a covenant with him? Will he serve you? Can you injure him? Do you have any means at all of controlling the chaos monster? I do." It's poetry used to express a truth that we humans cannot hope to grasp otherwise: We cannot control the chaos of the world around us. We can't even try. But God can, and he does it effortlessly.

So no. Not dinosaurs. And I think that arguing that they are, especially trying to pick through the text and figure out which ones they're supposed to be and using that to argue for literalistic interpretations of Genesis, really misses the point and the power of what God is saying here.

I think Job's words back to God at the end of the book actually give us a remarkably important principle when it comes to Biblical interpretation: "I have uttered what I do not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know." The whole Bible is too wonderful for us. God condescended in order to give us his truth, and he had the magnificent grace to give it to us in ways that we can begin to grasp.

I think a lot of really literalistic reads on Scripture (Job, Genesis, Revelation, and elsewhere) are a kind of grasping at control. There's an assumption in it that God gave the ancients an exact accounting of things that humans just aren't equipped to fully comprehend.

That doesn't mean we shouldn't try! But it does mean that when we read Scripture concerning the Big Things: the Sovereignty of God, the creation of the universe, the origin of life, eternity, infinity, even spiritual mysteries like the Trinity and the nature of the Incarnation, we have to approach it as something fundamentally beyond our comprehension which God is showing us the edges of. We can see other, different edges of many of those same things through scientific observation (or philosophy, or whatever other disciplines-- not all of the Big Things are scientific in nature.)

It's like Isaac Newton said: "I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."

#i really really hope that this doesn't read as unkind #i really appreciate the question! and i don't know where you're coming from generally #but this stuff makes my heart sing #or ache sometimes when i see people reading the Bible in certain ways #i love my YEC brothers and sisters which is why I'm so passionate about theistic evolution #it's about panting after truth-- all truth any truth more truth than I can ever have #and yet recognizing that some truths are too lofty for me #i wish like hell that I could cast my mind back and really understand deep time #the eons the clockwork-precision the tides leading to life #i wish that i could understand the mysteries of knowledge the mysteries of God's sovereignty of suffering of grace of the Godhead #i will have so so many questions for God when I see him face to face #and even then i probably will not be given all the answers #i am trying to learn how to be okay with that #side note: there will be scientific research in the new heavens and the new earth i am all but sure of it #all truth is God's truth #ask me hard questions

[tswwwit]

I feel like if Dipper were ever reincarnated as a demon, he wouldn't fit in super well with the others. Yes, he's been raised to vie for power and step on everyone in his way using whatever means is necessary - it's the same toxic bizz as when he was a human, appealing to gender norms. He's tougher, scarier, more powerful (than ordinary humans, that is), but when it comes to asserting control - being Evil - he doesn't have it in him. Given enough time, I think he'd grow pretty vocal about leaving living things alone. NOT torturing organisms for the hell of it, or stealing people's souls, or conquering planets. Sure, he's a demon. That's no excuse to be a MONSTER.

It's a VERY unpopular opinion amongst neighboring demons, and rumor spreads fast about the Goody Two-Shoed Activist imp raining on everyone's blood-splattered parade, so much so that it makes it to Bill, who's immediately intrigued. Call it intuition, but only one soul's capable of overriding goddamn demon nature for some preachy bullshit about "Doing Good." Lucky for him, demons occupy the same plane of existence, so all it really takes to verify the guy is a snap of his fingers, and POOF! He's floating right next to him. Sure enough, Dipper's fashioned himself a new and improved demonic form, and it is lovely!

No one likes Dipper's kumbaya "Can't We All Just Get Along" ideology, but Bill's almost instantly smitten with the guy, whoever he is, so he's gotta be at least somewhat powerful. Demons take notice when the all-powerful Bill Cipher starts lending his time (and magic?) to some low-leveler like Dipper. Is he being blackmailed? Are they working together? No. Not possible. Bill doesn't "work" with anyone, save for whatever human catches his eye every few decades. Doesn't look to be doing him any benefit, either. The opposite, even. Lending power to a saint like Dipper only makes it harder to cause chaos, after all. Why would he actively go against his OWN best interest to cater some imp's? It's almost like he's. He's.

A henchmen.

(Bill's also 30% more affectionate the first month they reunite, because he still can't believe that his adorable little human husband came back as the same SPECIES as him! He'd never complain over having a sweet human to squeeze, but one with teeth and claws and cute pointy ears doesn't hurt).

#answers #I can't help but picture demon dipper starting out all like #I'm Bad 😡 I'm Mean 😡 I'm Evil As Heck!! 😡 #And still having a HUGE hatred for things that are Unfair or Unjust. One time he saved a kitten from a tree and got embarrassed about it #Eventually he just has to give into his nature and speak up about all the BULLSHIT he sees going on around him #Sorry Dippin' Dots even the society that 'raised' you can't prevent you from your do-gooder ways #Don't worry Bill loves you for the stupid idiot you are #Everyone is completely BAFFLED by Bill acting like a friggin' henchman though #I bet they don't even peg it as romantic interest at first. Dipper sure doesn't #He's thinking this is some Grand Scheme to convince him back into the evil fold #And to be fair Bill's very tempting in that respect. But not leaning as hard into it as he *could* be #Maybe he thinks Bill's trying to 'mentor' him for something. Seems like the kind of thing Bill would imply and let Dipper fill in the gaps #They're technically not the same SPECIES since Dipper's probably some human-shaped 'demon' #And Bill's originally from a two-dimensional weird universe. Technically speaking he's His Own Thing #Aside from whatever refugees escaped that plane. If any. #Demon covers a LOT of different beings that don't have much or any genetics in common #But you KNOW Bill's thrilled as hell that Dipper's Slightly More Immortal than usual!! This one's gonna last a WHILE #*slams fist on table* Give Dipper A Tail With A Tuft That Bill Can Pull To Be Annoying #Final thought: In this incarnation Bill might have been wondering where the hell Dipper got to since there's no human around #Given a long enough time he might even wonder if he was LOST #So you know that when Dipper reemerges on the scene everyone else was dealing with a VERY unhappy Bill Cipher for QUITE a while

[icewindandboringhorror]

Hrmm... put together a roommates quiz finally after years of thinking it would be an interesting idea lol.. Though obviously not meant to be taken super seriously, I just like thinking about this aspect of personality compatibility. Like yeah, maybe you could get along with someone just chatting with them, but living together is such a different thing. .. curiouse...

#Not that I think that many people would really care since I barely know anyone on tumblr in real life and would never live with random #internet strangers lol but... idk.. I made this to give to friends from time to time and thought... why not post it here too #just out of sheer curiosity if anyone takes it what the most common results would be and etc. #My initial assumption is that most people would probably fall into the 'maybe' category and that either extreme of 'best roomates' #and 'worst roomates' would be the least common #very long also since I like to be thorough I guess #THOUGH... upon second thought... tumblr is home of the like Weird Introverts Who Sit Inside All The Time.. so maybe it's more #likely to come across compatible poeple on here. given that many of the questions are about how meticulous #people are with their scehdules or how often they invite friends over or if they like to mostly stay inside etc. #(since personally I think having a roommate coming and going and bringing random people over all the time would be too chaotic #lol... I need a peaceful quiet household) #Also I kind of don't like the way uquiz seems to do results. I was hoping it would be a number tally? I used some sort of quiz making site #before where you weight the question responses with a number (so the 'Best' response is worth a 0 #The worst is worth like 5 points. and all the in between are like 1 - 4 points or something). So then it is actually possible to have a #''perfect score'' category (someone who gets a literal 0 points). and also you could weight some EXTREMELY bad answers #to add like +10 to the score instead of just +5. And someone who got the MAX possible points would be the WORST compatibility. etc. #But uquiz seems to just be like ''which category did you score towards the MOST'. So someone can give some pretty bad answers #that are VERY non compatible. but as long as MOST of their answers landed in a 'compatible' category #then they would still be listed as compatible despite still actually having some dealbreakers in there. Which is also possible with the #'every answer is a number amount' ranking system too. but I feel like that one does allow for a little more customization #and accuracy (like making the dealbreakers add like...+40 to the score or something so that #there's basically NO way that someone could answer with one of those and still get a good score. Or the ability to have a literal #'perfect score' (getting a zero) etc. #BUt anyway lol... inchresting.. inchresting... curious to consider maybe making a uquiz #for the characters in the gameI'm making like.. which npc are you type quiz or something #now that I've made one and seen how it works.. hrmm hrmm.... #(< game will not even be done for like another year but still thinking about nonsense like this lol)