#coincidentally as I was adding tags all the original tags we used to use here came up

[harryshairclippy]

this weekend is my 11 year anniversary of liking 1D 🧍‍♀️🎂😅

#coincidentally as I was adding tags all the original tags we used to use here came up #so I’ll add them lmao #larry stylinson #hario and louigi #lourry

[softomi]

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen. 

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

#haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #osamu #suna #atsumu

[incorrectfbaaquotes]

FAQ about the blog

Note: This blog is not spoiler safe! Spoilers may be contained in all posts for the entire series! Proceed with caution.

Hi and welcome to my shitposting side project! I hope you enjoy your time here.

I have had several questions through replies, asks, and DM's inquiring about certain things pertaining to this blog (how often I post, where the quotes come from, tags, etc.) and I just wanted to fill everyone in on them in one central post so there's not a bunch of different posts and reblogs. And don't mind the rainbow colors scattered throughout. It's spring here and I'm feeling it.

If this does not pertain to you, and you're just here for the giggles, please ignore this post and move along!

Why is this blog even here?

This blog was started as a way to make me smile. I started doing this in my primary blog's drafts shortly after TWOTQ was released to make myself giggle, but it was getting really crowded in there, and I had a 3AM thought. If it makes me laugh, it might make someone else laugh too.

So here's how this blog works :

Questions about Posting :

I post once daily at about 12:00pm (noon) EST. Sometimes, when I'm adding to the queue, I'll find one that I really like and want to post one earlier, but generally speaking, once daily.

I am not currently taking submissions as I'm working through my exorbitant number of backlogged drafts as it is. I'm really trying not to inundate the standard character tags with this blog.

I've been asked if I play favorites with who I choose for quotes. No. I don't. At all. I certainly have favorite characters, but I try to keep things pretty spread evenly as far as I can. There are some characters that are bound to end up with more quotes because they're more central characters: Poppy, Casteel, Kieran, Sera, Nyktos, etc. We simply have spent more time with these characters so we know them better and have more situations between them.

Sources for Incorrect Quotes :

This question has come up SEVERAL times, especially with anons.

All quotes featured on this blog come from third party sources. I have never, nor will I ever, claim these quotes sourced by other people as my own creation. My sole contribution, and why they're posted here in the first place, is misquoting them under the guise of characters from Jennifer L. Armentrout's Blood & Ash and Flesh & Fire series.

I try to always remember to source where I found the quote in the tags of the post. This is not always (frequently) the originator of that quote. If the original source is brought to my attention, I will also tag them in the tags along with where I found it in the first place. I firmly believe in giving credit where credit is due.

Also of note, any of these FBAA related that happen to coincide with something that someone already posted, here or somewhere else, is completely coincidental. I do my best to try and not post one if it's already been posted by someone else, but I'm not perfect. If anyone notices this, please let me know and I will remove mine immediately!

Tags on Posts

Characters : Any time a character is used or mentioned in a post, they will be tagged with their name (full name, if available). If there are multiple derivatives of the name, those will likely be tagged as well (Penellaphe Balfour/Poppy Balfour/Poppy Da'Neer; Seraphena Mierel/Sera Mierel; etc.).

Books : I try to tag whatever books may be relevant to the post. FBAA is the most frequent book I tag as I see it as the base book for the fandom. However, for the most part, I try to keep the series separated if necessary and only tag books where the context of the quote may play into it (if something is AKOFAF specific, for instance).

Spoilers : Some of the quotes I've released after TWOTQ hold some relevance to events that happened within that book. Due to the book being newly released, I've been tagging anything remotely spoilery for that book with a "twotq spoilers" tag. I will likely do the same thing if this blog is still alive when ALITF comes out in the fall and for any subsequent releases for a several month period after that book was released.

NSFW: Sometimes, rarely, posts may include themes or, more likely, words not suitable for younger audiences or for workplace viewing. Though this blog (and the books) are not intended for younger readers, in an effort to be more mindful, posts containing these will be tagged with nsfw (not safe for work).

Anything going forward that I may post or respond to here that isn't an incorrect quote will be tagged with "#not fbaa" or "not an incorrect qutoe"- Real life shit happens sometimes, folks. This is for that inevitability, but also applies to this post here. I don't plan on frequently posting anything other than quotes here. I like this blog for what it is. But in case that happens...

Sources : I tag the sources in the tags with "source: [thing]. I have had people in the past reblog a post of mine attaching the originating source onto it instead of the one where I found it. If this is brought to my attention, after verifying the claim because internet, I will add that tag to my original post.

Okay, but what are your sources?

Generators : I've used these two incorrect quote generators (Scatterpatter's and Perchance) in the past. They have great variety and the quotes are defaulted to anonymous persons.

Pinterest : I've pinned so many of the damned things on Pinterest that I'm now inundated with the damned things every time I log on, so there as well.

Other incorrect quote blogs: If I'm struggling to come up with one, despite my absolutely massive collection of drafts, I will surf other incorrect quote sources and find a favorite or two. There are some really great ones out there. Some of my favorites include @incorrectgreeks (Twitter), @lesbian-deadpool (tumblr), and @incorrectnessduskwood (tumblr).

...everything else : And finally, I've pulled quotes from Vine and TikTok compilations, movies and tv shows, Twitter, other books, and the like. I was watching Frozen with my mom again a while back (my momma loves Olaf. Bugger off) and when he mentions that he had been impaled by the icicle, all I could think of was Duke Teerman.

Thank you!

Thank you all sincerely from the bottom of my heart for taking part in this blog, whether it was a like, reblog, reply, or follow. These past few months have been tough in the real world for me and you have no idea what having this space has meant.

#not fbaa #long post #about the blog

[sophiashortcake]

— 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 🍰

“I GUESS I’M JUST A PLAY DATE TO YOU.”

previous ❀ series masterlist

𝟐𝟕. epilogue

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: kicked out of her home with no place to go, y/n is forced to move into her family friend’s home, who coincidentally is also the family of tsukishima kei, the boy who denied her confession.

𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑...

“Okay, so I believe you screw this piece and that piece together and- BOKUTO-SAN NO!”

Everyone collectively groaned as Bokuto sheepishly held the now broken piece of what was going to be your headboard. Akaashi sighed and put down the Ikea furniture manual to rub his temples. Now the headboard was added to the list of furniture casualties along with the coffee table and nightstand (also broken by Bokuto).

“I thought it would be faster if I just tried popping it into place!” He whined, defending his terrible handyman skills and all too clumsy strength.

Your friends had volunteered to help you and Kei build the furniture for your new apartment, which turned out to be a harder task than you once thought. You all had spent the last few hours sitting on the floor of your new apartment surrounded by the clutter of move-in boxes and stray Ikea furniture parts.

“I think we’re gonna have to sleep on a bed with no headboard,” you sighed.

“It’s not like we weren’t gonna break it ourselves anyway,” Kei muttered, flipping through the instruction manual he had snatched away from Akaashi. Kei realized his comment wasn’t as quiet as he thought as everybody snapped their heads to his. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

“Get a room!” Yamaguchi screeched, feigning disgust.

“Uh, you’re sitting in it,” Kuroo replied.

Before the teasing got relentless, a loud bang was heard out in the living room along with the sounds of harsh drags across the floor, and groans.

“For the love of god, can somebody help me and Oikawa out here?!” Iwaizumi called, “I think this couch weighs more than Y/N!”

You sighed in relief, thankful the subject changed. Everybody got up and flooded into the living room to help Iwaizumi and Oikawa get the couch into the living room (where Bokuto’s strength actually helped for once).

Though you couldn’t afford much on a college student’s salary, a home was starting to take form inside the apartment. You grinned at the sight, giddy excitement bubbling in your stomach. You truly couldn’t be happier.

“I think it’s coming along very nicely Y/N,” Kiyoko grinned, “but don’t you two think it’s a little soon to be moving in which each other?”

“Yoko, it’s not like we haven’t lived with each other before,” you deadpanned, “and plus, it saves us money since we’re still in school.”

“Ah, that’s true,” she chuckled, remembering the living together ordeal that brought you and Kei together in high school.

It was crazy to think that a few years ago, you and Kei had been quarrelling in the same house, wanting nothing more for you to move out. But now, you both were moving in with each other. Even when you lived separately, you came to realize that Kei was your home.

“I can’t wait until we start decorating!” Yachi squealed, clapping her hands together in excitement imagining all the possible decorations.

“You two decorating is my nightmare,” Kei sighed. You whacked his shoulder lightly, pouting.

“Y/N-chan, if you ever get annoyed by Tsukki, my door is always open!” Oikawa sang, receiving an eye roll from Iwaizumi.

“Get in line,” Kuroo retorted. “Y/N would rather live with me! My apartment is way better.”

Kuroo had also purchased an apartment recently, at an eerily cheap price. With such a small price tag, you would assume that the apartment was going to be barely a closet, but in reality, it was even nicer than your own (and you and Kei had saved up a hefty amount from your own jobs). Kei had warned him that apartments that nice didn’t come cheap without a reason, but Kuroo had shrugged it off under the premise that he was a broke college student who didn’t have many options.

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t we remember that I offered Y/N to live with me first back in high school?!” Bokuto protested.

“Can you all please back off on my girlfriend?” Kei grumbled.

“Aww, Kei loves me!” You teased, clinging to his arm trying to peck his cheek. He dodged your kiss, his cheeks tinged red.

“Still a tsundere,” Akaashi sighed.

“He always will be,” Yamaguchi chuckled. “It’s Tsukki we’re talking about here.”

The next few hours you finished up building the furniture, or at least attempted to. As it turns out, none of your friends were exactly handymen.

“Finally!” You groaned, as the last piece was screwed in for your shelf.

With the finishing touches on the apartment, the night was drawing to a close. Kiyoko and Yachi wrapped you into a hug and pecked your cheek before they left. Iwaizumi ruffled your hair, telling you and Kei not to act up too much while you were alone. Bokuto and Yamaguchi excitedly discussed the possibilities of a group sleepover (which Kei wasn’t exactly excited for, but knew he wasn’t getting out of). Akaashi gave you both a hefty lecture on proper behavior for living alone without “parental supervision”. (Both of you were adults with jobs!)

Slowly the apartment grew empty besides for you, Oikawa, and Kuroo and Kei who were having a discussion about Kuroo’s suspicious new apartment. While you were sorting through the move in boxes, Oikawa pulled you aside.

“Y/N, I just wanted to say I’m happy for you,” he grinned.

Over the course of time, Oikawa learned to get over you, and owned up to his mistakes. Slowly but surely, he regained your trust, and even Kei’s as they grew a strange frenemy relationship. Now there was nothing but platonic love and trust between you two, the past behind you both.

“Thank you, Tooru,” you smiled, pulling him inside a hug.

“But if Tsukishima ever acts up-”

“Shut it Shittykawa!” Kei called from across the apartment.

“He and Iwaizumi have been spending too much time together,” you sighed.

Oikawa laughed, and pulled out of the hug. You smiled, knowing Oikawa truly was happy for you both.

Before he walked out the door, he clapped Kei on the back.

“Don’t forget your promise,” he warned, wagging a finger at him.

“I won’t,” Kei replied, rolling his eyes.

Kuroo was the next to leave, finishing his conversation with Kei.

“You two better help me move in next week!” Kuroo exclaimed, before leaving the apartment. You both chuckled and agreed as you finished bidding your goodbyes.

Now the apartment finally was empty, besides for you and Kei.

“What promise did you and Oikawa make?” You asked curiously.

“Something back in high school, don’t worry about it.”

You raised an eyebrow, those two were definitely hiding something.

“Speaking of high school, wait here, I have something for you,” he said, before running off to the bedroom to dig out something from the move in boxes. He pulled out a worn piece of paper. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as he handed it to you. You studied it carefully before realizing it was the confession letter you had written in high school.

“I thought I lost this!” You gasped. While you lived with Kei, you kept it stashed in your desk drawer, but you assumed you had lost it somehow while you were moving out of Kei’s house.

“You left it in your desk at my house, I kept it,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Even after all these years?” You giggled.

“Yeah, I felt like it was too important to throw out.”

You scanned over your letter, the nostalgia washing over you as you softly smiled at the memories. However, you noticed over the bright red D minus sprawled over the corner was crossed out, now replaced by an A plus.

“Why is the grade different?” you questioned, confused.

“I regraded it, A plus for effort,” he said.

“Kei,” you whined, your heart swelling. He really has grown over the years, hasn’t he?

“But don’t get me wrong, your spelling and grammar still suck.”

But obviously, it wouldn’t be your Tsukishima Kei if he didn’t throw in one of his comments too.

“Jerk!” You hollered, smacking his head as he cackled. You pouted as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: the letter is now framed in the apartment next to the framed pictures of y/n and tsukki throughout the years.

𝐚/𝐧:

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚:

• the idea came from itazura na kiss, i based mine specifically off the kdrama.

• miyagitea was originally supposed to be either an oc, suga, or yamaguchi. @/wisteriarain talked me out of it and suggested oikawa.

• the original idea was for this to be a manager!reader x tsukki smau with no letter, living together, etc. they were originally just supposed to hate eachother right out the gate and have a fuck buddy relationship.

• the next idea was based off good morning call and that tsukki and y/n were both college students who got scammed by their new apartment complex and ended up having to live together.

• y/n mother’s (hayami) and akane’s relationship was based off my mom and her best friend.

• y/n’s mother’s contact name, mama bear, is my mom’s best friend’s nickname.

• i considered having a female antagonist/oc to play y/n’s rival for tsukki.

• i didn’t write y/n having a father figure and barely wrote about tsukishima’s (even though he was in the picture) because i find it uncomfortable to write about father figures.

• this was only ever mentioned in an ask, but y/n’s mother is a lawyer!

• i came up with the idea driving home from the orthodonist and i passed a building that said, “asian volleyball association”.

• miyagitea almost didn’t make it into the story, it was a last minute addition.

• the title came before the plot, it was based off the melanie martinez song.

• there is bonus material on the masterlist! the dress from chapter 21 inspiration and official playlist can be found there!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡!): @sinistersith @moronsuke @yougivemebutterfliess @saturnfarie @peachiikichu @what-happens-inside-the-box @nonoszrk @cece-lives-here @belli-jelly @cvlliesstuff @ack-aashi @mindofess @virgoamajiki @natsukitakama @shimy-deko @irenevyas @virgoamajiki @toaster-stick @little-dark-empress @h0ngh0ngh0ng @freyafolkvangr @winunk @estmagnifique @thechaosoflonging @ilovesupersoldiers @simpletype @burntcilantro @starrydaisy @animatedrapture @intothatbluebluesky @resetrestartandreplay @lostmarimoismyhubby @witcherydotcom @kukiisan @not-venice @grapesauze @amberisnotcrazy @tarasaoristark @ammemuts @cloudymotel @loving-unicorns106 @strawberryssel @kakaokenma @cadelinha-de-haikyuu @wowie-issa-me-amario @pruemania @vitalthot @kageyamasgirl @abswrites @kac-chowsballs

#[🍰] — play date #haikyuu smau #hq smau #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #tsukki #tsukishima kei smau #tsukishima smau #tsukki smau #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukki x reader #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima x you #tsukki x you #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima fluff #tsukki fluff #tsukishima kei imagine #tsukishima imagine #tsukki imagine #haikyuu tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu tsukki #haikyuu tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukki x reader #haikyuu social media au

[phoenixtakaramono]

Does Bing gē Have Descendants in ‘The Untold Tale?’

This topic has come up a few times since The Untold Tale takes place in the PIDW universe (post-Bingge vs Bingmei extra), I figured I might as well compile and archive my official answer here for me to refer my AO3 readers to in the future for convenience’s sake. I hope everyone doesn’t mind. :) I’m always happy to answer questions!

TL;DR

Q: Will we see Bing gē having fathered children with his harem of 600 or so wives in TUT?

A: For TUT, the answer is a definite “no.” There were a lot of factors which’d contributed to my decision. I’ll try to explain my reasoning down below.

Context

In PIDW, it is canon that Luo Binghe has a bountiful number of descendants with his harem of 600-or-so wives. It is a detail that has been mentioned even in ch1 of SVSSS and in ep1 of the donghua.

(SVSSS Excerpt - ch1)

(SVSSS donghua - ep1)

I like to plan things ahead of time. So from very early on, I knew this would be something I would have to decide on whether or not to address when I’d finally decided to expand TUT from just a prologue into a full-blown story. And after contemplating it, I decided against adding children into the story. It is because 1) it would make the situation more complicated, and 2) it would take TUT in a different direction that wouldn’t be fun for me to write.

I’m a very decisive writer, meaning when I make my mind up about something, chances are I won’t change my mind. This is because I would have already planned it into my plot outline, which means changing a decision would require me to change other details in the other chapters I have planned for that story. (I’m typically not a spontaneous writer; I try not to write spontaneously because when you’re a writer who rotates through multiple WIPs with different characters across different genres or writing styles, you inevitably have writer’s block because you probably won’t remember all the ideas or the direction you had whenever you return back to a different WIP. To reduce this shortcoming, it helps me personally to have a plot outline. This way I can return to any WIP, read my notes and then transcribe them into legible paragraphs, find a way to transition between the story beats I have to hit for that chapter, and then eventually post the final draft to AO3 when I feel it’s ready.)

Having made a decision, I knew I had to set it up in TUT and give a “reasonable explanation in-story.” Hence, in ch2, we see:

(Excerpt I - ch2)

Basically the set-up is TUT takes place post-Bingge vs Bingmei, but between “the third or fourth book” of the hypothetical PIDW webnovel series aka before Airplane wrote the fanservicey chapters where the luckier of LBH’s wives give birth to children during the harem drama plots and the children are probably rarely, if ever, mentioned again in the story as a lot of stallion novels tend to do.

(Excerpt II - ch2)

(Excerpt III - ch2)

Contrarian Tendencies

You know the saying: Monkey see, monkey do? In my case, it’s monkey see, monkey do not do.

A little fun fact about me as a writer: if I have already seen a fanfic where someone has already written a concept or idea into their story, chances are I will just avoid it entirely in my own stories. I don’t know why this aversion exists, but I’m assuming it’s because of my counterculture hipster inclinations and an intrinsic fear of plagiarism which has been beaten into all of our skulls since adolescence. There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by other people’s works. Technically everything’s been done before in writing so, as a writer, a good rule of thumb is to always try to give it your own unique spin on things. So for me, my brain somehow interpreted this a step further. This is a reason why I try to avoid reading stories from whichever fandom my WIP is from during the writing process of updating a fic, because this is how I get influenced. Once I see an idea or interpretation from another fanfiction, it influences me to not want to write it into my own. This is a very strong unconscious impulse for me. I guess this is just the neurons in my brain’s thinking that this way, it won’t be something my readers will have read before and the story idea will come across as different or fresh, and mine. In a way this is also how I show respect for fanfiction writers in the same fandom—by being inspired to not be inspired, ha. I like to think every story in the world serves a niche audience, so seeing a diverse range of originality and interpretations in a fandom is a good thing. This is also how I feel when I am able to identify certain popular tropes or depictions or patterns in a fandom; 99% of the time, it makes me feel a compulsion to “go against the grain” or write the opposite. For example, you have no idea how long it took me to come around the idea of incorporating the fanon “A-Yuan” into TUT. However cute it is, the moment it dominated the fandom (well, “dominated” is an exaggeration; it’s more like I’ve seen enough, especially in the Original LBH/ SY | SQQ tag), my gut reaction was to nope out of using it. But after seeing a lot of comments in my inbox with readers affectionately calling SY “A-Yuan,” I’d contemplated it for a long time and it wasn’t until ch4 that I decisively decided that yes, I can have Bing gē calling SY “A-Yuan” in TUT—but it has to be at the right moment for maximum dramatic and emotional impact. (See this thread that started it all. And this is the small sneak peek I wrote where LBH will call SY that for the first time.) <- This is the rare 1% where I actually conformed to what’s popular.

In this case, when I finally decided to expand the prologue into a full-blown story, coincidentally I had just recently read a good Binggeyuan (Bingyuan) fanfic which featured a kidnapped Shen Yuan interacting with Bing gē’s harem and LBH’s children/descendants. I’d liked their portrayal and even thought the children were cute. <- However, with me having reading this, the problem came up: I felt the familiar stubbornness in me rearing its head. So knowing myself, if I had included children, it is very likely the direction that I would have gone down for TUT would have been the opposite. To further complicate matters, you have to keep in mind the kind of writer I am. I tend to like grounding stories with a semblance of realism, no matter if the genre is pseudohistorical fantasy, romance, sci-fi, etc. And this writer has seen and read quite a few harem and palace intrigue Chinese dramas/ premises.

For further context, in those types of “historical” C-dramas^, in that sort of environment which fosters scheming, competition, jealousy, etc, it is almost expected to see heirs aka children aka descendants harmed along with the women. Innocent parties are often victims in these sorts of cutthroat premises, to underscore the underlying message the show or novel wishes to present. (See Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace. See Yanxi Palace. See The Legend of Haolan. See Nirvana in Fire. See The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage. Etc.) And me being me, this would be the direction I would take. Remember, while TUT is meant to emulate a legitimate danmei C-novel reading experience in a fantasy world, I do drop pseudohistorical and cultural Easter eggs into the story. So trust me when I say you would not like the direction TUT would have gone down in, had I made LBH have children with his harem. I mean, theoretically yes, we could’ve seen endearing children characters from me, but you would have also seen me addressing a lot of the baggage that comes with (see Comment III Excerpt down below).

The situation with dissolving Bing gē’s harem is already complicated enough. As his romance with Shen Yuan develops, I didn’t want to have an additional headache thinking about how to address the issue of LBH having children already. Divorces in a pseudohistorical context is already a heavy topic—even more so when it’s divorces with children in the mix. Naturally I will still have SY and LBH eventually discuss the matter of legitimate heirs since LBH will essentially become the Sacred Ruler of all Three Realms and it’s a traditional precedent for an emperor to bed his empress, noble consort, and imperial concubines until he has his heirs (plural, because the rate of mortality was high in ancient China). In TUT’s case, at that point in the story SY will remind LBH that he’s essentially an immortal sovereign so there isn’t any need for an heir unless he wishes to retire. Furthermore, he will inform LBH that he could set a new precedent since he’s already different from the other emperors from history (with him being of half-Heavenly Demon and half-human cultivator lineage); as long as LBH is fully aware of all perspectives of the situation, he doesn’t necessarily need to conform to all traditions if this is something he really feels strongly about. But this future conversation(s) is likely the extent of it.

But wait, you say, what about a certain someone who’s going to be transmigrated as an imperial crown prince? Isn’t he going to be in that sort of vicious upbringing? <- Yes. But that’s an entirely seperate matter. In a way, since I’ve decided Bing gē will not have had any children or descendants in TUT, with Airplane, this now presents an opportunity for me to show the consequences of being one of the many children of an emperor with a harem of women vying for one man’s attention—and the power struggle that’d ensue in this kind of environment. It’s an interesting What-If parallel, if you think about it.

AO3 Comments

Although these are just small excerpts from replies I’ve written before, it’s nice and orderly to just compile them here for everyone since these will be buried underneath all the comments as TUT updates:

(Comment I- ch3)

(Comment II- ch4)

(Comment III- ch4)

Because of seeing comments that have asked me for my thoughts on whether or not I will include LBH’s children, I’ve had so much fun seeing theories thrown around: from LBH’s blood parasites being able to control conception, to someone’s headcanon about LBH being a hybrid and all that entails scientifically (think: mules). I will say in TUT, it’s more the former since in PIDW he’s supposed to have descendants; we’re pretending Bing gē doesn’t have any yet (and now definitely won’t, especially after having heard SY’s “prophecy”) because he subconsciously does not want children due to certain fears, trauma, etc. And his Heavenly Demon’s “blood parasites” (blood manipulation) is a convenient story device to explain why no wife has gotten pregnant yet.

I hope this explanation makes sense! Mainly I just wanted to have this archived on tumblr so that I have this post to refer to moving forward.

On a side note: especially since ch4 had been posted, quite a few people have actually mentioned they’ve read my replies to other comments and/or I have seen different people having hopped onto other readers’ comment threads (for example, imagine my pleasant surprise when I saw a reader you lovely person, you helpfully jumping in to respond to another reader’s questions about TUT, and their answers were actually aligned with what I would’ve answered!), so it’s always such a thrill whenever I see this level of engagement happening. I can’t explain why, but seeing this happening is just so cute to me. It really makes this writer feel so warm and fuzzy inside!

#svsss #bingyuan #bingqiu #the scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #the untold tale #phoenixtakaramono #ask #technically not an ask #but i like to categorize it there #I mainly wrote this lengthy explanation on tumblr #bc I wanted to link this as ref #anytime someone asks me in the future regarding LBH’s kids #lol it’s actually not cinnabar pills hidden in a bracelet #it’s some sort of seeds which supposedly stopped concubines from being pregnant #I discovered this when I rewatched Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace #Do you all notice you have a unique writing syntax/ style #that’s how I can identify that you’re all diff ppl in the comments #one time an anon guest wrote something for G&G #and in the comment thread as another guest anon they supposedly agreed with the prev anon #in that case it was obvious it was the same person pretending to be another guest anon #and I can tell because their writing syntax/ voice is identical #which is why I’m so pleasantly surprised to see this phenomenon in the SVSSS fandom #you all have diff writing syntaxes #seeing you all interact with each other’s comments or my comments to other comments #is just such a delight ahhhhhh #I love the SVSSS community #you guys are so warm and welcoming

[narrators-journal]

The most dangerous game

I know I’ve been hella dead, but I return with my usual! Stano smut! I dunno why I adore writing these two so much, but I guess I’m attached, so yeah. Ya’ll get content.

CW: Predator/prey vibes, Xeno gets chased but there’s no real big acknowledgement of it.

It was likely because Xeno had developed a persistently wonky sleep schedule that he got so many night time jobs. That, he supposed, was why he was once again out at night hunting another Vampire, despite having told his boss of his run-in with a particularly pretty vampire. However, at the moment, Xeno somewhat wished he was dealing with Stan instead. At least with him he could rely on his need to flirt and toy with him to give him away. But no, the scientist wasn't hunting Stanley, but instead a completely different vampire who was proving his dislike for hunting the blood sucking monsters. Taking advantage of how dark the night was, the human's weaker vision, and whatever ninja techniques he had learned from the internet, the young vampire had hidden annoyingly well in the thick blanket of shadows and clutter on the streets. So, the white-haired college graduate was poking around at every rock and thicket of grass or bushes along the sidewalk before the boiling irritation in his veins got to be too much and he let out a mix of a groan and a scream like a tea pot. Stomping over to one of the few flickering street lights on the road, the hunter stood in the light and dug out his knife, then used it to slash at his stomach to fill the air with the alluring scent of fresh blood. With a pained hiss and the new wet feeling of blood dripping sluggishly down his pale skin, the trap was set, and all the hunter had to do was wait for the shallow cut to work its magic. Which, didn't take long. All Xeno had time to do was get one of his metal stakes from his pocket and extend it, then he was set upon by the vampiric ninja-wannabe. However, despite his skill at stealth, the vampire was young in both a human and vampire sense. Freshly turned at a young age, he'd become a problem because he had yet to grow out of his pubescent hormones quite yet, and giving him a predatory draw and increased strength had only encouraged him to turn hard into the bad boy persona. Sadly, being a new vampire wasn't all improvements. It also meant an increased hunger and little control of your newfound strength. Which is what had led the young man to be targetted by the monster hunter association, and swiftly wiped out by a stake through the throat via Xeno Wingfield. With a grunt, the monster hunter threw the freshly dead young man to the sidewalk, wincing at the burning and itching sting bending down to yank the stake from his throat brought to his stomach. For a moment or so, he felt bad for the creature. He'd been young, and he'd let his newfound powers obviously go to his head after a lifetime diet of anime and movies, the silver haired hunter could understand his over excitement, but he also had little to no patience for dumbasses who couldn't register that they weren't in Naruto. So, his sympathy was brief, and he was soon just dragging the young creature's corpse into some bushes and calling the cleaning crew to come collect him. Then. He spoke.           "God damn, Doll. You're quite attractive when you're being lethal." Stan hummed, hopping down from his hiding spot in a nearby tree and giving the hunter a charming smile that he refused to admit brought a little heat to his face.         "Oh, so you're just gonna become a full blown stalker now? Did you follow me from my house, or was this another 'coincidental' run-in." Xeno's words dripped with sarcasm and venom, but the vampire simply rolled his glacial blue eyes,          "Actually, I'm here because I smelled fresh blood," At the mention of fresh blood, the scientist glanced down at his work shirt, spotting the tiny stain of blood his cut had left,          "Oh." He inwardly winced at how disappointed he sounded, but tried to recover with a sniff, "I had trouble luring the bastard out. It was quite the shock for me to find out that not every vampire would want to chase me down and prowl around my house for the entire fucking night." Stan simply snorted, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one before he spoke again,          "Nah, that's just my thing, doll,"         "Quit calling me doll! You have my name now, fucking quit." The vampire put his hands up in mock surrender, though his smirk didn't falter under the scientist's withering glare. For a moment, they simply stood in the cool night's darkness, the hunter with his arms crossed and dark eyes narrowed, and the vampire returning his malicious look with his own nonchalant, half-lidded one while he breathed whispy smoke from his dark mouth. Both men seemed to dare the other to say something or do anything, each looking for an excuse to make some sort of contact until the smaller male spoke again,           "Are you expecting me to run away? Because I told you the first time we met, I'm not likely to do that," He huffed, but Stan simply shrugged,           "I'm just messing with ya, doesn't matter to me if you run or not." He grinned more at the lightning fast moment of irritation on Xeno's face, but the hunter schooled his facial features back into their usual disdain-filled glare, only broiling with frustration on the inside. He hated this man's relaxed demeanor. He was a monster hunter, the tall, hypnotically pretty predator should be avoiding him at all costs. Yet here he was, needling at him as if he couldn't end him just as quickly as he had the younger blood sucker. Okay, well, not as quickly. Stanley had a good four inches on the monster hunter at least, and had a body that had been frozen at the prime of his life, toned and pruned like an artfully shaped shrub through the years into a gorgeous, powerful example of why humans were the apex predators of the world. Or, well, they were, but with his change into the more monstrous his status as the perfect predator had only increased. Stan was perfectly built to hunt humans. Not only did he have a supernatural magnetic beauty to him, but he'd been human, so he knew how humans behave first hand. He was a nightmarish wet dream. Xeno gave his head a good shake to banish those thoughts from his mind when he realized he was looking the vampire over with the hunger of a sugar baby sizing up their next piggy bank.           "Hey, Xeno," Stan hummed, but the hunter refused to look back at the man, which he simply took as a greenlight to continue, "you wanna play our little game tonight?" The hunter snorted in response, staring off into the darkness while his cheeks cooled,           "I thought you were only here to bother me, not play a game of fucked up tag," He said calmly, only looked back at the man when he heard him walking closer, only stopping when he was about two feet away, maybe within reach, a grin on his pretty face,           "Well, I thought it'd be a bit more polite to offer that rather than just asking if I could drink your blood outright." he reasoned, amused at the edge of poutiness that he seemed to sniff out through the veil of aloof indifference the hunter spoke with.            "No thanks to either offer, I don't want to be chased tonight." Xeno sniffed in response, simply adding a thicker layer of ill temper to cover how excited he was at the thought of being pursued a second time. The first time had, admittedly, given him a thrill, but he wasn't ready to voice such to the annoying vampire in front of him. However, Stan seemed to have picked up on his kryptonite from that first round,              "But aren't you curious to see what happens when you add the scent of blood to the mix?" The purr in the man's voice annoyed Xeno immensely, but the thought of maybe learning just how sensitive vampire instincts were, and how quickly one would succumb to them. Obviously young vampires are more prone to being controlled by their need to feed, but Stanley isn't a new vampire, that curious voice mused, already setting Xeno on a very likely stupid and dangerous path, It'd be immensely helpful to know just how easy it is to bring out those base urges in him. If he's going to follow you around it's best to know what to avoid so he doesn't go feral. It further encouraged, stoking the flames of the scientist's natural curiosity until he hummed,              "I suppose it would be useful for the association to know exactly what triggers a vampire to go into a frenzy of some sort. Fine." The vampire grinned at that,             "You do know that I can't promise my feeding instinct is the only one that'll come to the surface," he pointed out, making Xeno blink and raise an eyebrow at him,             "What? Why would any other instinct come into play?" turning red as Stan laughed,               "Well, in simple terms, I find you too attractive to promise that when I catch you I'd only want to drink your blood~" Xeno's face warmed up more at that, getting huffy and tripping over his words in his rush to snap at him.               "You can have a five minute head start, just like last time," he simply assured, "Just need a bit of blood, because your original scratch has closed," He laughed more when Xeno pulled up his shirt to see that his shallow cut from earlier had in fact begun to heal, no longer bleeding and instead beginning to scab over. The hunter only responded with a glare at that point as he plucked his knife from the sidewalk where he'd dropped it and wiped it off before leaving another cut along his stomach, this one a bit deeper than the first, but not enough to linger for more than a day or two. With that, Stan gave him a charming smile that showed his extending fangs, his blue eyes already getting a hungry gleam to them. So, without further conversation, Xeno took off down the street. The cuts on his stomach stung and itched more from his running, but he pressed on. His main concern was regulating his breathing and energy so that he could get as far away from the vampire as he could in his small window of time. Naturally, his plan wasn't to just run in a straight line and wait to be caught, not only would that likely be dangerous, as a vampire in a feeding frenzy was much more violent, but was less likely to fulfill the goal of bringing those deadly instincts to the surface at all. So, instead, he sought out other people, a crowded area, maybe a shop, that way it wasn't as easy for the predator to catch up to him. This is insanely stupid, that voice of reason finally spoke up, not only am I playing with fire by instigating an instinctual reaction, but I am woefully under prepared to run from Stan. He realized, filling his veins with icy terror when the weight of his situation fully sunk in, The first time we did this I barely survive on pure panic and him toying with me. If he really loses his shit and goes into a frenzy, I can't outrun him. The reality of the thought hurt, but it was sorely true. Despite all of his training as a monster hunter, Xeno had never been one for good cardio, namely in the stamina category. He relied on his wits and pure speed, not his ability to maintain those speedy response times or pace for long periods. but it's too late now, he reminded himself, thinking back to the way the vampire's fangs had extended so soon after he'd given him a fresh source of scent. Nope, he couldn't chicken out now. He had no choice but to stick to his plan and push the panic and fear aside. Instead, he simply focused on the route ahead of him and locked onto the light of a store further down the street, which he headed for instantly. The bright, artificial light blinded the pale scientist for a moment when he stumbled into the store, but he was swift to regain his barrings and dash down the aisles and through the crowds of night owls and whatnot that were still up at this hour. He knew that his five minutes had ended a minute or so before. Meaning he didn't have long before the vampire would be on his ass. So, thinking quickly, he swiped his hand over his wounds, then smeared the blood on his palm onto the tile flooring in an aisle. Once he had that down, Xeno ran off deeper into the store. He had very few places to hide. The bathroom was basically a dead end with no windows and only one door, he couldn't climb up the shelves or to the rafters in a timely manner, so he forwent that plan. Instead, he did the next best thing. leaving as distracting a trail as possible before bolting out one of the fire exits.            "Shit," he wheezed when the fire exit triggered a screaming alarm through out the store. If Stan was in there, he'd definitely know he got out now, but that only meant the scientist had less time to think of such things. He had to focus on running. So, Xeno ignored the way his legs throbbed, and his lungs ached from gulping down the cold night air. He focused entirely on getting home, or at least to a more residential area. He could feel his limbs getting heavier, threatening more and more to give out with each step, but his grit his teeth and bared it until the threat became reality and the asphalt bit into his skin. And there he laid for a few seconds, gasping for air and scraping up as much energy as he could to push himself to his feet. As he did, he glanced back down the street, and sure enough. Stanley was coming out of the alley Xeno'd run out of, his glowing blue eyes locking onto the scientist in an instant. With another curse spat out through gritted teeth, Xeno took off again. His legs still screamed from exhaustion, and now his hands stung viciously from the fall, but he kept going. He could hear Stan closing in on him, which gave him a final burst of frantic energy that carried him to at least the park near his home before the vampire finally tackled him to the grass. The scientist could only wheeze in response, letting the vampire crush against him and push his face into his pale neck with a growl. That seemed to snap him out of the exhaustion cloud, and in an instant, Xeno was squirming and forcing himself up once again. The only way he managed it was because the vampire was taken by surprise, so he was able to slip from his grasp and scramble up, but he only got a few more steps before he had to lean against a tree for support so that his legs didn't crumble a third time. Then, just as quickly as he'd gotten away, Xeno was back in Stan's luke-warm arms, trapped against his needlessly heaving chest with his fangs hovering over his jugular once more. However, he didn't bite down. To the contrary, the feral vampire seemed to hesitate for a moment, seemingly weighing his options of what to do with the hunter before settling on a choice and swiftly switching to almost slamming him against the nearest tree.           "S-Stanley!" The hunter wheezed, more surprised then anything, pushing back so that his face at least wasn't forced into the course bark and he could look back to try and see the blonde behind him. Said blonde was keeping him in place with a hand on one of his shoulders, looking Xeno in the eye and almost relishing the dawning realization that painted his pale cheeks before he used his free hand to hook into his pants and tug them down pretty roughly. Then, he was back at the man's neck, but this time he bit with his blunter teeth, sucking at the skin until Xeno's mewls and hums were pulled out and he was satisfied with the hickey he'd left. The scientist, meanwhile was a bit ashamed of how quickly he accepted the turn of events. He tried to save some face by muffling the noises bubbling in his throat, but Stan's mouth at his neck, paired with the way he ground his groin into his now-bear rear drug a few noises out. Though, it also bat back the fog of hormones and lust long enough for the hunter to realize that he was very likely to get hurt if he didn't intervene. So, he whined and reached up to tangle his fingers in Stan's messy hair, tugging at it until he finally relinquished his throat from the second hickey he was dedicated on leaving. Carefully, Xeno turned himself around with what little room he was permitted between the vampire's muscular chest and the much-less-forgiving tree. Once they were face to face though, the college graduate's brain no longer seemed to work, so, the two simply stood there, panting a bit from the chase, before he finally gave up on using words and instead simply sunk down to his knees. Keeping his eyes glued to the glowing blue pair above him as he went. Luckily enough for him, his actions at least intrigued the vampire, because he was allowed to tug his bottoms down just enough for his member to spring free, which earned him a noise somewhere between a growl and a hum. With Stan's pants down and his member now standing erect in front of him, Xeno hesitated. Should it matter if I'm any good at this sort of shit? I just need some sort of lubrication, and he shouldn't really care about anything beyond...mating, so surely he won't give a shit, right? He asked himself, puzzling over the predicament before Stan reached down to grab onto his shirt, reminding the scientist of his lack of patience. So, Xeno threw his insecurities to the wind and grabbed onto the base of the shaft so he could slip Stan's impatient member into his mouth. The vampire moaned in response, and Xeno took that as a sign that he'd bought a bit more time for himself. So, he slowed down, bobbing his head at a medium sort of pace to work himself up to taking as much of the length as he could, which, thankfully for him, was almost all of it thanks to years of speed-drinking coffee and energy drinks and eating at record speeds in college. He also found that once he actually got to moving, the embarrassment of his lack of skills faded away, and part of him simply enjoyed the groans he got out of Stan while he moved his lips up and down him at a steady pace. He simply continued to work him as much as he could until the vampire let out a little hiss and gripped onto the scientist's shirt until he pulled away and let his throbbing member go with a coy 'pop'. Suddenly, Xeno was yanked back to his feet and whirled around again to be slammed back into the tree. His pants were tugged down once more and his feet were kicked apart in rapid succession so the monster hunter only got a moment's break before Stan pushed into him. And while it hurt still, the white-haired man found that he didn't mind as much. As the vampire began thrusting into him, one hand clawing into his hip, the other on his shoulder, Xeno moaned out curses and did his best to grab onto the tree or Stan's neck to keep steady under the merciless thrusts of the blonde. It was shameful how hot his body got, but with how Stan was hitting that sweetspot within Xeno, his face back to being buried in his neck for more marks, Xeno couldn't care less.        "Mmmm, fuck! ah, r-right there, please!" he plead, tangling his fingers back into Stan's hair as he moaned, giving another lewd noise when his pursuer did as he asked, swiftly learning that doing so got more needy noises from the hormone-addled hunter. With that, Xeno lost all coherency as euphoria further fogged his mind, and soon brought him to his peak with a whine of the vampire's name. Though, Stan didn't stop when Xeno came, he just kept thrusting into him, still flooding his pale body with more and more pleasure while his hot puffs of breath tickled his hickey-littered neck. The continued rough treatment was beginning to sting, but the edge of pain only seemed to bolster Xeno's pleasure back to its peak, pushing a second orgasm from him before Stan finally grew sloppy with his thrusts and soon gave one final movement before emptying himself into the hunter. After that, the monster hunter let himself melt against the tree, relying on Stanley to hold him up because he was on the verge of passing out after that night's activities. The last thing Xeno remembered was giving a thumbs up to what he assumed was the question 'are you okay'. Then, he let his exhaustion take him into dreamland.

#dr stone #drst #stanXeno #Stan x Xeno #monster au #scenario #vampire!Stan #Monster hunter!Xeno #not sfw

[ziggyzagreus]

Bitter Revival

[Pairing: Zagreus/Thanatos - Fandom: Hades (Video Game)]

[Rating: Teen+ Audiences]

[Important Tags: Light Angst, Argument, First Run Spoilers]

[Fic Type: SFW Drabble]

[AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493994 ]

[Summary: Zagreus made it to the surface for the first time, only to be dragged back under.]

[Note: This is basically one hour of me being pissed off after my first run, coincidentally the first time I met Thanatos, too! Great timing.]

~~~

Zagreus had been frustrated with dying before – of course it was irritating to be put through excruciating pain again and again, only left to drag himself from the sticky river of blood and do it all over again. Expelling the irritated tension in his body, he would chat briefly with those that supported him, catching them up and once again saying thanks for their tolerance. Then the prince would stop by Cerberus to apologize for this tease of disappearing indefinitely only to come back and give the big mutt false hope.

Afterwards, he would take the berating from his father with an eyeroll and a shrug, and be on his way. A simple routine, mundane and frustrating, but never angering. In fact, more or less it just gave him something greater to undertake than that blasted paperwork.

But this time was different. This time, the prince seethed. The house was quiet at his return, the usual milling number of Shades absent. Even the ever-present scratching of his father’s quill seemed softer, more distant. Hypnos’ snores were not present either.

It was quiet, and Zagreus lie there in the river for a moment before dragging himself up the steps, the wet and sticky sloshing sound grating against his ears, the sound repulsive to his pounding skull. He pushed a hand through his thickly soaked hair, almost cursing when some dripped down his forehead around his eyes.

Zagreus took the few steps out of the Styx, glaring at the ugly trim carpet and how smoke rose from its fabrics when his feet met the floor. The rushing sound in his ears made him feel as though he was still in the river itself; and admittedly, the prince would rather lie down for another moment before pushing forward yet again.

He had made it all the way through – to the surface, past his father, to his mother… and for what? To be gone in moments? It was unfair. Why death always came to him was like a curse, and the thought of putting up with it again made Zagreus’ blood boil for the first time since he set out.

Death approaches. It always did, eventually.

The prince barely managed to stop short before knocking into someone, spotting the hovering, bare grey feet adorned in golden anklets. Of course. Normally, Zagreus would sigh with a fond exasperation, quickly thinking of excuses for his past actions. The leaving, the lies, all that.

But now he resigned to close his eyes briefly, biting back a growl, and raised his head to meet the piercing gaze of Death Incarnate himself.

“Zagreus.” Thanatos said simply, his tone dull and dampened, yet echoing all at once. “You made it to the surface.”

“I did, Than,” Zagreus replied, only his own words came out more scornful, harsher than he had ever intended. Well, suppose it was warranted in his current state. It was the sentiment carried forward from his true feelings.

“I’m sorry to see you back here then, although it possibly could have done some good to mention to me where you were off to. I could have been present along the way.”

“Oh, you were plenty present, Thanatos. I don’t recall being spared any of the pleasantries of a full death ticket,” Zagreus did not have time nor energy for this. He pushed past Thanatos, tried not to notice his gaze boring into his back.

Thanatos followed behind, his own glare then tangible despite persistence unlike his usual disposition. “I risk much for you, wasting my time out there when I have enough to do on my own. The least you could have done was informed me of your departure. Or consult in me about your brief success. Zag.”

“Shove off, Thanatos, I have to go back. I don’t have time for this.”

“You seem to have plenty of time to run out there and destroy things again, things I need to help fix I’m afraid.”

“Thanatos,” Finally halting his pace, Zagreus groaned again and turned around, threading a hand through his now dry hair, pushing it back from his forehead and letting the brief pain of the pull at his roots ground him. “Consider for a moment that I don’t care much for logistical things like that. Consider, maybe, that the only thing that matters to me is reaching my mother, my birth mother, and asking her the questions that have plagued me for… however long it’s been. Please, I’m asking you to see that and maybe leave me be when I go back out there. “

Thanatos had ceased drifting forward to meet him, instead regarding the prince with stoic expression that solidified like the hard edges of a marble bust. A change flickered in the golden light of his eyes, somehow the shade turning slightly darker. “Mother Nyx was just as much a mother to you as she was to us, Zagreus. But is that all we are now, a ‘logistical’ matter? I would have expected more from a lifelong friend.”

“Some life this is then, being lied to.” Zagreus scowled, for Thanatos was turning his words against him. Surely, as his lifelong friend, Zagreus knew that Death Incarnate was aware exactly of his thought process; that he never took his friends and family for granted, that those who cared for him such as Thanatos and Nyx were the few things that made this claustrophobic Underworld experience bearable. But no, Thanatos’ own grudge towards the prince himself for attempting to leave on impulse must take the foreground, always a quarrel with them. “I’ll be frank now, then. Kindly leave me alone, Thanatos, keep your death far away from me. Because I’m going back to her, to Persephone.”

Thanatos did not flinch, but his upper lip twitched in the tease of a scowl, and that was as good as a recoil. Zagreus took little pleasure from inflicting cruel words, but something about this defiance felt good. He raised his chin, glaring Thanatos down, and could have sworn those hovering feet drifted ever so slightly further towards the ground.

Golden eyes darted over towards the great desk of Lord Hades, but the busy deity seemed lastingly unperturbed. Still, Thanatos spoke softly. “You know I cannot help you, Zagreus. I… I have a duty to stick to, and I cannot stray from that. Even for you.”

An unspoken hesitation in his words spoke volumes, and once again a shift in hue of those beautiful eyes made Zagreus’ heart stutter, something beat and clench in his chest. Still, if Thanatos would stew over a grudge for this long, then two could play at that game. Zagreus’ own started today, or night, whenever it was that his presence was ripped from his mother after all he worked for. Dragged under by the cold and cruel hands of death itself, colder than the wind and snow that whipped about Greece on the surface, again and again. But that time it had hurt even more, an injustice for once clearing the prince of blame for his own passing.

Zagreus knew exactly where the sudden surge of anger came from, but not why or how he allowed it to burst out, right to Thanatos’ unsuspecting face. “Fuck off, Than, truly. You do your work, that’s fine – You do what you are meant to do. But I? I don’t know, I hardly do, and here I must find my mother. Maybe, if I had more than a few painful, bleeding moments with her, then I’d feel some sense of belonging and drive akin to how you treat your work, yes? And if considering you as a logistical obstacle hurts, well, I’ll have you know I’m quite insulted to be seen as your work as well then. My constant death is monotonous to you, and for that, I say please fuck off.”

The House was so quiet. Zagreus’ strange eyes burned, and he would be remiss if not to mention that a cruel little vengeful glee spiked his adrenaline when he saw the way Thanatos looked, features stolid but the well-memorized tells of his timidity betraying him. For the first time since they began speaking, Thanatos looked away, another sneaking glance to the grand desk at the forefront of the room.

Hades had ceased writing for a pause, watching his son before a rumbling scoff left with an exhale of breath. Then, the scratching of the quill resumed.

Thanatos swallowed, looking back to Zagreus.

“Fine,” He whispered, that voice steady at this low volume. Zagreus wondered how it would sound should he speak louder. “I shall leave you entirely to your devices. Expect not to hear from me until I come to collect you back to the river. And that means you will receive little of my help, too.”

“As if you were helping from the start.”

“Zag, please don’t take that tone with me again.”

Zagreus wavered then, his brow relaxing as a soft sigh left his lips. But he could not apologize, he could not relent merely minutes after such an outburst. Squaring his shoulders, he  nodded so briefly it was hardly caught. But Thanatos saw. And Zagreus turned on his heel.

Death Incarnate disappeared with a burst of green and grey. The prince only fleetingly wondered on what business he originally came to the House, to leave without finishing the original task.

Unless coming to gloat was the initial intent. No, gloating was not in Than’s nature… Zagreus scrubbed a hand over his face with a guilty groan, and marched right through his room into the tiny courtyard to the rear of the house.

And Centaur Hearts were scarce going forward in his escapes; with the added pact from his father, Zagreus cursed the odds he had accidentally and foolishly stacked against himself.

#hades game #hades supergiant #hades fanfic #hades drabbles #again this was supposed to be like 500 words lol #back on my bullshit #ziggyzagreus #hades #house of hades #hades thanatos #thanatos #thanatos hades #death approaches #death incarnate #thanatos x zagreus #zagreus x thanatos #thanzag #thanatos/zagreus #zagreus/thanatos #thanatos fanfic #zagreus fanfic #the river styx #angsty #light angst #arguments #spoiler warning #hades fandom #zagreus #hades zagreus #zagreus hades

[rosy-night-sky]

Of Treasure and Adventure

Genre: Treasure Hunter/Indiana Jones AU

Pairing: Ot7 x reader

Summary: Your grandmother gave you a gift that she won in a game, so naturally you are curious as to the origins of it. A decision was then made that you should seek the answers to your questions. However, you never expected your decision to lead you on a treasure hunting quest.

Warning: Suggestive themes, violence, trauma

Disclaimer: Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Tag List:  @sevenincubistolemyheart @xxqueenwxtchxx @technicolor-blues @taevkimchi @youcantbesiriusremus @vannilacake @baby-hobii @catsandstrawberries @izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash @http-lostforever @jhopetypes @seesawsmin-flower @taekookandyoongi @star-gods @asifetch7​ @the-jackals​ @comicnerd557​

(A/N: Ahhhh! It’s finally here! Oh my god, it’s been months! I’m so sorry this took so long. I hope this makes up for it. I tried to make this a little more angsty, but I’m sorry if it falls short. Enjoy!)

Chapter 9

Darkness. That was all you could recall in that moment. All memories and knowledge of yourself were long gone. All you could do was sink back into the comforting, warm pool of murkiness, letting all your senses and thoughts fade away like the sun at twilight. In that moment, you couldn’t remember anything, your identity, your family, your friends. Everything that made you you was washed away in the never-ending waves of blackness and calmness. For a brief moment, you didn’t want to be pulled from the soothing current of peacefulness. Was this death? Were you dead?

Then suddenly, a memory popped into your head. Your name. Then after that came another memory. Your family, specifically your grandmother setting you on her lap when you were a child. With that came a few memories like snowflakes sprinkling down before a snowstorm. The expedition. The boys, your friends. What happened to them? Where were they? You couldn’t seem to recall what occurred just minutes ago. Your mind was still a mess of muddled thoughts and recollections. 

You remembered seeing red. There was a lot of red before you fell into this black abyss. Red… red dress, red tie, red shoes, red… blood… There were also faint feelings of panic and stress hidden in your subconscious. Desperation. You saw desperation somewhere. Where was that…? Were you desperate? Did something happen? Yes, but also no… you saw it in something-- someone, more like. Eyes… you saw it in someone’s eyes. Whose? …. Jin…?

…

…….

Jin!

You threw yourself out of the drowning darkness and awoke with a gasp, as if you were actually in a sea of blackness and had finally resurfaced. Your memories came back in an overwhelming flood. Your eyes stung for a moment as light suddenly pierced them. You blinked a few moments, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness, as your chest rose and fell from rapid breathing. After the bright light died down and your eyes stung no longer, you quickly took in your surroundings. At first, panic rose in your throat because you found yourself in an unfamiliar environment; but after a few seconds, you soon realized that you were back in the safe hotel suite that Jin had booked for the night. 

“Whoa! Whoa there! Calm down, y/n! You’re alright, you’re safe.”

You jerked your head almost violently toward the owner of the voice and found yourself staring into warm, familiar, eyes. Hoseok. Your shoulders relaxed as did your breathing. 

A long, drawn out breath slipped through your lips as you relaxed back into the couch you were laid upon. “What happened? Did I fall asleep?” you asked, although you knew that not to be the case. You had completely forgotten who you were, what happened at the gala, where you were. That wasn’t as normal as falling asleep.

Hoseok took out the stethoscope that was still embedded into his ears and placed it back into his black bag. “Vasovagal syncope.” He smiled when seeing your confused expression. You weren’t a doctor! You didn’t know these medical terms like they were common knowledge. “Basically, you were under stress for a long duration of time, and the adrenaline pumping within you was making your heart beat at a rapid pace. Then, once you were in the van, your body suddenly dropped your blood pressure, causing you to faint.”

You paused for a few moments, taking in all of this knowledge. “So I fainted from too much stress and the rush of adrenaline?” you clarified, leaning back into the couch slightly.

“To put into simpler terms, yes.”

You lifted a hand to your face and began to rub your temples, trying to rub awake the grogginess and exhaustion that still wracked at your body. “Makes sense. I was very stressed out for the entirety of the night, and the whole fiasco really set off my anxiety. I’m surprised I didn’t faint right when the blackout happened,” you remarked, your voice airy from lack of use. “How long was I out?”

“Not long,” Hoseok answered, rummaging through his belongings before pulling out a flask of clean water and handing it to you. “I’d say maybe twenty minutes. You kept coming out of unconsciousness for a little bit only for you to fall back into it. You must have really been stressed out.”

You brought the flask to your dry and chapped lips, letting the cool liquid wet your lips before taking a few gracious gulps to satisfy your parched throat and tongue. “I was. I pretty much took the reigns of that whole disaster of a situation.”

Hoseok chuckled before taking the flask out of your hands after you were finished drinking. He placed it down on the table next to you before sitting on the arm of the couch opposite to you. “I agree. Without you there, the whole operation would’ve been a failure. You really pulled us through.” He smiled graciously to you with such warmth and kindness.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a smile of your own. “The whole problem was that everything wrong happened at the same time. Taehyung went on his own without telling anyone. We ran into Mr. Akimoto. Jin passed out. The blackout happened. I needed Namjoon to get the kobae while Jungkook needed to get Jin to safety.” You sighed again while using your hand to pull down the skin of your face in exasperation. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s just going to stress me out again.”

“Good idea,” the doctor chuckled. “We don’t want you to have a cardiac arrest from the amount of stress you’re going through.”

You groaned almost dramatically. “Don’t say that…” After you finished rubbing at your face, you dropped your hand to your lap and looked at the doctor. You had a bunch of concerns and questions that needed answers for. “How is Jin? Is he going to be alright? Because Mr. Akimoto told me that he had Jin incapacitated, and I didn’t know what he meant by…” Your voice trailed off as realization dawned upon you. You sighed again and dropped your head slightly forward. You could be such a twit sometimes. “The champagne… it was drugged, wasn’t it?”

Hoseok slowly nodded, his face suddenly grim. You prodded further and asked, “It wasn't poisoned or anything, right? No cyanide or anything of that sort.”

“No, there wasn’t any poison,” he answered, much to your relief. “He wasn’t foaming at the mouth, his pupils weren’t dilated, and his heart rate was normal. I did a quick checkover and found that he just ingested a sedative. He’ll be fine after he wakes up.” 

You sighed in relief, feeling a weight on your shoulders suddenly vanish. “Thank God,” you mumbled, burying your face into your hand. “I would have never forgiven myself if he died.” You lifted your head up, needing your questions to be answered. “And the others? I haven’t seen Namjoon all night. I was scared something happened.”

“Do you really want to hear the answer to that?”

That sent your heart racing. The familiar feeling of panic slowly bubbled within your stomach, causing a sense of uneasiness to settle upon you. Your eyes widened ever-so-slightly. “What happened?”

Hoseok suddenly burst into laughter at the sight of your panic. He covered his wide smile with his hand and bent over slightly as his laughter echoed in the room. “Oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have worded it that way!” He laughed for a few more seconds before adding, “I only meant that the answer was going to make you really mad.”

Okay, now your panic morphed into confusion and bewilderment. What on earth was he talking about? Should you be more concerned since he said the answer would make you angry? 

As you stared at him with a look of puzzlement on your face, he finally explained, “The reason why you couldn’t find Namjoon was because…” He paused to giggle. “... was because a little fan club swarmed him asking him a million questions about his latest book. He barely even got inside the museum by the time the blackout happened! You were really lucky he walked into the room you were in when you said the codeword.”

He… he must be joking. You went through all of that turmoil and panic of possibly dying while he was signing autographs?! Hoseok was right, you were mad. No, you were more than mad. You were furious. You couldn’t believe that you suffered all of that anxiety and strife only for the historian to be off having a jolly good time with his fans! Why, you could just march over to him right now and start strangling him!

“I’m going to kill him.”

Hoseok went into a full guffaw at your comment. He slapped his leg when seeing your now enraged expression. Your nostrils flared slightly as you released a hard exhale. You looked like a bull ready to charge at the matador. 

He wiped away a tear from his eye almost dramatically and slowly wound down. “Hey, he was sort of in your shoes. He also hates socializing at big parties like the gala, and he was swarmed by a whole flock of people the moment he stepped inside.”

Fine, you supposed you could give Namjoon that. He suffered as much as you did in that regard, perhaps even more since all of the attention was focused solely on him. However, you weren’t going to let him off the hook so easily. Once you found him, you were going to box his ears. “I guess… but I’m still going to wring his neck,” you grumbled.

“Fair enough,” Hoseok conceded with a smile, “you did have to deal with a tyrant, I suppose.”

With a roll of your eyes, you moved onto your next question, “What about Taehyung? I couldn’t find him after the blackout.”

Hoseok’s smile quickly faded at the mention of the artist. He flickered his eyes away from your gaze and suddenly took an interest in the intricate wallpaper that adorned the walls. A few moments passed as he carefully chose his words. 

At his sudden silence, you began to fear the worst. An image of Taehyung’s dead body suddenly appeared in your thoughts. You clamped your suddenly sweaty palms and awaited for his response, praying to God that what he was about to say wasn’t what you were thinking. 

Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to you. “Taehyung is alive, and in good condition considering what happened to him.”

You were relieved to hear he was alive, but what followed that sentence only heightened your worries. “He’s hurt?” you asked, your voice drenched with worry.

Hoseok slowly nodded. “How else were you, Jin, and Jungkook able to make your escape without any more of Mr. Akimoto’s men finding you?” 

To be honest, you figured that the three of you were able to slip away without anyone knowing where you were. But now that Hoseok mentioned it, it did seem a little odd that the only person you confronted in the hallways of the museum was that one man you knocked out in one swift punch. Mr. Akimoto seemed like a very crafty and slippery man. Surely he would’ve had men scouring every inch of the place for the three of you, especially after you gave him a speedy kick to his privates. 

“So…” you began slowly. “Taehyung distracted them while we ran out of the museum…”

There was a small pause of silence. “Yes, in a way... luckily for him, it was too dark in the room for anyone to use any firearms or knives, but taking on five men by himself was too much for him,” Hoseok explained, now standing up and wandering over to his bag. “Like I said, he’s very lucky considering the position he was in.”

“Taehyung…” you couldn’t help but let the name slip from his mouth. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so harsh to him that night. If it weren’t for him, who knows what would have happened to you and the others?

Hoseok lightly chuckled, despite the gloomy atmosphere. “You should’ve seen some of the others. He put two of them in the hospital in critical condition.” You arched an eyebrow curiously at this. “What did he do?” you asked bemusedly.

The doctor merely gave you a small smile before taking out an ice pack wrapped in cloth. “Well, he is the demolition expert.”

After that, you knew you didn’t need to prod any further. You expected those men were in the hospital with fourth degree burns. You wanted to feel some pity for them, considering that they were permanently, physically mutilated now, but a part of you believed that they received their comeuppance.

“What about the kobae? Did Namjoon get it?” you asked him, your fingers playing with the material of your scarlet red dress. 

Huh, it seemed that no one changed your clothes while you were unconscious. You didn’t know whether to be relieved that no one saw you in your underwear or annoyed by the fact that you were still in this godforsaken dress.

“Yes, but it was more like Taehyung first got the kobae after knocking a guard out, saw that you and Jungkook were leaving with Jin, passed the kobae to Namjoon, was seen by Mr. Akimoto’s men, one of his men attacked Namjoon, Taehyung helped defend him, Namjoon got away with only a sore jaw, and the rest… Well, you know the rest.”

You slouched your shoulders very slightly as Hoseok retold the story to you. “At least Namjoon is fine,” you pointed out, trying to find some bright side to all of this. “This whole expedition is taking its toll on everyone.”

The doctor chuckled humorously. “I’d say, we’re only a few weeks in and you guys have almost run my medical supplies through.”

Hoseok then returned to your side and placed the ice pack on your injured arm. It took a few moments before the coolness began to soothe your skin, and you released a small sigh at the comforting chill. You adjusted the pack a little before letting it sit on your arm. Your arm still throbbed ever-so-slightly from exerting it when catching Jin. Of course, that probably meant you injured it even further than before. Great, just peachy.

“I think I may have hurt my arm even more,” you confessed somewhat embarrassed. You expected to receive a scolding for doing the complete opposite of what he told you to do.

Hoseok hummed in thought as his eyes dwelt on the wrappings on your arm. “Yes, I figured you would after all you’ve been through tonight, which is why I prepared a bath with epsom salts to help soothe irritation and soreness in your muscles,” he disclosed. He then wrapped his fingers around the fabric and began to unravel it. 

Your skin was tender and soft after being enclosed for so long. You noticed with a sting of disappointment that your arm was still slightly swollen, despite the care and attention you’ve been giving it lately. Ugh, you wished desperately that you could find some magical cure and just douse your arm in it. However, you knew deep down that such a thing didn’t exist and that you were going to be stuck with this injury for awhile yet. Man, you just had the worst luck.

You quirked an eyebrow at Hoseok’s attitude toward you. It wasn’t unwelcomed, in fact, you loved that he was being so caring and attentive toward your well-being. However, this was a sudden change from the last time he gave you a checkup. You could still remember his skillful fingers dancing on your sensitive skin. Such a memory almost made you shiver. Almost. 

“Someone’s very thoughtful today,” you commented jokingly.

“Oh?” he wondered out loud, draping the discarded arm wrap on a nearby desk. “Aren’t all doctors supposed to be accommodating toward their patients? Or did something change and I didn’t hear about it?”

You shook your head, a soft snicker leaving your mouth. “No, it’s just… last time you gave me a checkup, you were a lot more…” Your voice trailed off as you tried to think of the perfect word to describe exactly what happened that night. Voluptuous? No, no no no, there must be a better word.

“Lascivious?” he offered, his tone still casual and innocent. You never would’ve guessed he was referring to such vulgar acts based off of his tone. 

He then took a few steps over to you, heels clicking against the floor, and bent down so that his face was very close to yours. “If you want, I could give you those painkillers I’ve been meaning to give you now.” The corners of his lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

You cleared your throat awkwardly as your head instinctively drew away from his. Your eyes wavered wildly to anything that happened to be not his face. However, this was rather hard to do given how close he had gotten. “M-maybe later,” you blurted, then internally died once your words finally processed in your brain. Later?! No! Later was the opposite of what you wanted currently.

Even Hoseok seemed surprised by your words. His eyebrows rose just a centimeter in astonishment before chuckling to himself and quickly pulling himself away from you, taking all the warmth with him. “Alright then, I’ll hold you to it,” he replied playfully.

Suddenly you stood up from the couch and took a few steps. To where? Well, you weren’t sure. You wanted to go to the bathroom to take your bath, but you had no idea where the bathroom was to be honest. “I’m… I think I’ll go take that bath now,” you announced sheepishly and started wandering toward a door you hoped led to the bathroom.

The doctor chuckled once more and followed your disoriented footsteps until he placed both of his hands on your shoulders and redirected you toward a different door. You immediately froze under his touch but nonetheless went in the direction he urged you to go. Honestly, you looked like a frightened sheep being herded by the shepherd. 

“This isn’t like the last hotel we stayed at,” he revealed with a wide, impish smile. “Instead, we have one bathroom that we all share.”

And whose bright idea to stay at a hotel with only one bathroom was that? Probably the one who paid for all of this. Ugh, you wanted to be mad at this whole situation, but you then figured that it was better to at least have a bathroom than have none like that motel you stayed at in Darjeeling. Still, you would appreciate it immensely if you had some form of privacy.

“Oh, really?” you responded dazedly, your cheeks still tingling with heat. Hoseok hummed in reply and added, “I’ll even be nice and tell the others not to bother you while you’re taking a bath. After all, your comfort and well-being are my number one priority.”

That was… awfully considerate of him. You were oddly touched by his kind and sympathetic words. Why was he acting so sweet? Well, you supposed he had to be, since he was a doctor. Or perhaps it was because he knew how much you’ve gone through recently. 

You shook your head. You shouldn’t be so suspicious of him. Hoseok has been nothing but kind to you, even if his kisses overwhelmed you.

Hoseok led you down the hallway, its walls were made from sherwood oak wood with a wooden flooring to match. The walls were carved into intricate designs that reminded you of some of the manors you visited for newspaper articles. The velvet blue curtains were drawn back to let the light brighten the atmosphere, the slight reflecting off of brass candlesticks and freshly cleaned, polished tabletops. Dear Lord, this all must’ve cost a fortune to build!

Hoseok suddenly jerked you into another room after opening the door. You released a small yelp before you found your feet padding against tiled flooring. Your eyes took in your surroundings and realized that you were now in the very fancy bathroom. True to his word, Hoseok had drawn a steamy bath for you with bubbles floating gracefully on top of the water. The bath looked very inviting, and you could feel your muscles already relaxing at the sight of it.

The hands on your shoulders abruptly left as Hoseok pulled away from you and stepped outside into the hallway. His hand latched onto the doorknob and began to close the door, but he stopped just enough to let his head poke through, giving you a warm and cheerful smile. “Have a nice bath! I recommend staying in there for at most thirty minutes. Any longer and you risk drying your skin, and we wouldn’t want that.” He then perked up with a bright, wide smile, and said, “Alright, I’ll leave you to it!” With that, he slipped through the doorway and closed the door.

You stared dumbly at where the doctor stood for a few seconds before redirecting your attention back to the appealing bathtub. Steam rose from the water in small, smooth wafts as bubbles slowly popped. Seeing how warm and inviting it was, you then wasted no time and immediately began to strip yourself of your dress, gloves, and jewelry, like a snake shedding its old skin. Once you were stark naked, you slowly slipped into the warm, satisfying water, and for a brief moment thought you entered heaven right then and there.

A small, happy sigh escaped your mouth as you settled into the water. You really did need this. The moment you stepped in you felt all your worries and tensions slip away like dust in the wind. If you did this more often, it would almost make all your frustrations during the expedition worth it. Your head tilted back and rested against the edge of the tub, your eyelids slowly closing from the waves of relaxation that enveloped you.

As you rested there, your mind began to wander toward the recent events of the museum gala. Sure, the objective was made and you managed to get the kobae, but it didn’t seem like a complete success to you. Complete success meant that no one was injured or extremely endangered, and, of course, both of those things happened all simultaneously. Jin was unconscious and could’ve been killed had you and Jungkook not got him out of there, Taehyung was injured in order to provide you an escape and defend Namjoon, and Mr. Akimoto was now searching for everyone’s blood now that he knew that you all were plotting against the Japanese government’s interest. Everything was a mess tonight, and you were extremely glad it was over.

Or was it over?

Your eyes suddenly snapped open when you heard the door open and shot up in the tub. For some reason, you instantly went to the worst scenario and briefly thought that Mr. Akimoto and his men found you, but you instantly shoved that thought away, reminding yourself that you were far away from him and his goons. 

Instead, however, you saw Taehyung slip through the doorway in nothing but a silk, blue bathrobe that stopped above his knees. He didn’t seem to notice your presence until he already stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Once your gazes connected, his eyes widened for a mere second before they relaxed while you squeaked and sunk yourself deeper into the tub, hiding yourself under the deep waters.

Your lips dipped under the water for a few seconds before you slowly pulled them above the surface, your eyes never leaving his. “The bathroom is taken,” you murmured, your arms covering your private areas despite the layer of bubbles already hiding your naked form. What the bloody hell? You thought Hoseok told the others not to come in here!

Taehyung didn’t say anything at first, his eyes trained on you for a few seconds, as if you were a rare sight he would never get another opportunity to see again, which was practically the case. He then gave you an innocent look and clamped his hands together as if to beg. “Can I share the tub with you?”

Was he serious? Was he actually serious? Did he really want to share the bathtub with you? 

You cleared your throat and finally tore your gaze away from him. “I’ll be out in the next thirty minutes. You can wait until then,” you quietly mumbled. 

Taehyung pursed his lips into a tiny pout. “But then all of the warm water will be gone! Please, y/n, it’s just one bath. I promise I won’t do anything!” he practically begged, eyes round with puppy eyes.

Normally you would be stubborn and refuse to let him in for the sake of your poor hear, but tonight you were exhausted from previous events and didn’t have the resolve to. And by God, you couldn’t resist those adorable eyes no matter how much you wanted to. “You promise you won’t try anything?”

He nodded fervently. “I promise.”

You sighed and reluctantly gave in, gesturing for him to get in while the water was still warm. He grinned boyishly and whipped off his bathrobe in a flash for you to see him in all of his naked glory.

You let out an abrupt, panicked shout at the sight of his naked form. You took in his body for only a second before you threw a hand over your eyes. “Oh my God!!!” You couldn’t believe what just happened. You just saw Taehyung naked. You just saw… Taehyung… naked. The image of his tight and rippling muscles appeared in your mind, and, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to get it how of your head. Dear Lord, he must be an Adonis with a figure like that!

A low chuckle snapped your from your alarmed thoughts. You sensed movement from him, but you didn’t dare move your hand. This better not be a prank, or, so help you God, you were going to kill him. 

You ripped your hand from your face once you sensed him dipping his foot into the tub, risking the fact that you were going to see him in naked glory again, and threw yourself back against the walls with another yelp. Taehyung only laughed at you reaction and slid down into the still warm waters with a relaxed sigh. His face tightened into a contortion of pain, probably from moving his abdomen too much, until his jaw went slack and his head was thrown back with a soothed groan. 

Don’t look down! Don’t look down! Don’t look down!

Your face burst into a wave of heat as you stared at the man sitting in the tub across from you. This was a horrible idea. Why on earth did you agree to this?

Taehyung tilted his head up and gave you a lopsided grin with half-lidded eyes that sent your heart racing. “Glad to see you’re alright,” he stated honestly.

You swallowed a large lump in your throat and felt your mouth had suddenly gone dry. “You, too… Hobi said that you got hurt during the blackout.” Your eyes wandered over his exposed chest and saw his smooth skin riddled with black, blue, and purple bruises. Your skin crawled and your stomach churned uncomfortably at the sight. Some of the bruises seemed slightly swollen from the impact and that the slightest movement would send him reeling in pain.

He hummed thoughtfully while arching an eyebrow in a joking manner. “Hm, what gave that away?” he asked rhetorically, readjusting himself into a more comfortable position.

His skin that had been underwater suddenly peaked above the surface, the light glistening off of his shiny muscles and abdomen. You quickly looked away to stare at the wall so that you wouldn’t give him the wrong idea, your cheeks becoming hotter than the water itself. Taehyung instead found your attitude and actions to be rather adorable.

You cleared your throat once more to get rid of the lump still lodged in your throat. “Why did I agree to this?” you mumbled to yourself, ignoring his question.

His lips formed a small pout, although the pursed lips seemed rather mocking to you. A tiny whine rumbled in his throat as he tilted his head to the side. “Aw, you don’t want to spend time with me?”

“We can spend time together later. Not in a tub. Naked.” The embarrassed heat that tingled your cheeks began to travel to the rest of your body. 

You never in your life showed such vulnerability to any other man. Hell, you never showed such vulnerability to any woman before, not even your friends back in London! The most they probably ever saw was you in your knickers! “What if the others came in?!” You knew Hoseok supposedly told the others, but you weren’t sure if he actually came through on that now that Taehyung was in the tub with you.

“Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you? Which one would turn you on more if they walked in right now? Jimin? Hoseok?” His tone turned mischievous as his eyes began to darken with desire.

You gaped at him with round eyes as your heart sunk to your stomach. Oh God… he knew…

Taehyung’s smirk widened at your flabbergasted expression, seeing how you were at a complete loss for words. “Oh, yes, I saw-- well, more like heard-- your little escapees with those two. You moan really loudly, you know that, right?” he commented with a chuckle.

With that, you sunk even further into the tub, your lips submerged in the warm water. Humiliation and embarrassment filled your very core the more the artist went on. Ugh, you were fine with the fact that some of the others, like Namjoon, knew about what went on between the three of you. But Taehyung? Taehyung was the last person on earth you wanted to know about this! 

“You promised you wouldn’t try anything,” you murmured quietly, your lips peeking above the surface of the water.

Although still smirking, he listened to you and dropped the subject. “Alright, if it makes you uncomfortable, then I won’t say anything, okay?” His smirk ebbed away to give you a normal, gentle smile, which almost gave you whiplash from how quickly this was all moving.

You gave him a tiny nod before shifting uncomfortably in your spot as your eyes flickered down to the side, your arms still wrapped tightly around your chest to cover yourself up. Your feet bounced nervously in the water at a rapid pace that matched your own heartbeat, causing a small ripple effect to spread across the water. Taehyung’s gaze lowered into the water to watch your feet tap against the bottom of the tub before he brought his eyes back to take in your appearance, his mind apparently elsewhere.

“You’d be the perfect muse,” he commented absentmindedly, more to himself rather than to you.

You let out a small noise of confusion, your eyebrows knitting together ever-so-slightly. “Pardon?” you blurted. That was certainly a new one. You remembered your grandmother fondly drawing pencil pictures of you as you played in the English countryside, but never before has ever anyone wanted you to be their muse.

He perked up a little, realizing that you picked up on his mumblings. “You’d be the perfect muse.” His lips curled up amusedly at the new nickname, his fingers now lightly grazing his chin as his eyes stared into your round ones. “My little muse, my little myujeu sin…” 

“Myujeu sin?” you attempted to repeat, finding yourself only able to echo his words. 

He nodded, his smile widening at your effort. “Yes, myujeu sin, it means ‘muse’ in Korean.” He still watched your form, taking in how divine and almost romantic you looked. Your naked body submerged in water with such an innocent expression. He imagined what kind of setting you would be in. Maybe something pastoral like a field surrounded by blooming flowers. “God, the number of paintings I could make of you…  I could make a whole art exhibit with your image…”

Your breath hitched in your throat upon hearing these words. Heat blossomed to your cheeks as your stomach fluttered around with butterflies. Your heart skipped a beat as you mentally repeated these words over and over again. You stared at him as a foreign feeling suddenly flourished in your chest. It was touching how he, an artist who appreciated beauty in its finest forms, admitted that he would paint your appearance endlessly, and you found yourself wanting to engulf in his embrace. However, a wave of self-consciousness washed over you, which caused you to slip even further into the tub.

“Aw, how cute. My little muse is acting so adorable,” he cooed, grinning as your lips pressed together in a thin line.

You shot up in the tub, the water splashing around and threatening to spill out and onto the floor. “Stop saying that! I’m not cute! I’m… I’m not, okay?” you protested, your cheeks now heated from irritation as well as flusteredness. 

Taehyung cocked his head to the side in light confusion. “But you are. Why are you trying to deny it?”

It was then you realized that he was speaking the truth in his mind. Right now in this very moment, he wasn’t trying to tease you. He wasn’t trying to embarrass you. He was being honest about this, which only baffled you more.

You cast your gaze away from him, too embarrassed to remain eye contact with him. “I just don’t think I’m cute is all,” you answered back just as truthfully. 

The smile returned to his lips. “But you are. You’re cute when you get flustered. You’re cute when you look so awkward and lost. You’re so adorable when you make that squeaky noise whenever you’re surprised by something. Your laugh is the cutest thing I ever heard.” He unconsciously moved closer and craned his head down to your level to make eye contact with you. “You’re cute whenever you get that expression on your face when an idea pops into your head. You look so cute whenever you get excited…”

His face was suddenly close to yours. “And you’re so adorable when you give me that look.”

Your round eyes bore into his, your mind a complete mess at his words. Your whole body short-circuited for a moment and as you tried to process what just happened. A comforting warmth bloomed in your chest. What he just said was… sweet. Something was on your mind. A desire. You couldn’t place a finger on what it was until realization dawned upon you.

You wanted to kiss him, by God, you wanted to just kiss his beautiful face until every inch of his skin was claimed by your lips, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You weren’t poetic like the heroines in the books you read. You were an awkward newspaper reporter who never faced affection like this until a month ago. How could you say what you wanted without sounding so pitiful or awkward?

However, Taehyung didn’t need any words to see what you desired. Your eyes bore into his gleaming with need and passion as if he was the only thing that was on your mind. His heart pounded in his chest with emotion, and, before either of you knew it, he pressed his lips against yours full of want and desire You released another squeak of surprise that he oh so loved, muffled by his own lips. 

The kiss was gentle and soft at first until his need for you grew more and more until he could barely contain it. He pushed more force into the kiss, and you nearly slipped and dunked yourself underwater from the sheer force he exerted. You barely had any time to compose yourself as his lips greedily ate you up.

Water splashed around you as he roughly pushed you up against the wall of the bathtub before capturing your lips again, giving you little time to prepare yourself. All of this was a completely new experience for you. It was an experience similar to Hoseok’s, however, in the sense that they were both rough and rather dominating. But while Hoseok was teasing and mischievous with his kisses, Taehyung was very animalistic. He kissed you like his life depended on it, like you were the last person on earth he could lay his lips on.

As your mind swam with a million of hazy thoughts, Taehyung nibbled gently the bottom of your lip, causing your legs to tremble slightly at how nice it felt. A small whimper left your mouth as he tugged on the soft flesh before releasing it. He instantly brought his lips down to your neck and attacked your beautiful skin. You yelped as his teeth bit down on your neck mercilessly leaving behind patches of red and purple in their wake. 

His tongue peaked through his lips and began to lap up the colorful bruises, the pool of desire in the pit of your stomach growing. Feeling his hot breath of your neck made you squirm slightly underneath him as your own breathing suddenly shortened, and your heart rate began racing. 

He pulled back for a few moments to appreciate his artwork, sitting at full height instead of hovering over your naked and suddenly sensitive body. His fingers that had been gripping the side of the tub tightly left their place and began to graze along your neck. A small whine left your throat feeling the paint-like strokes of his fingers on your skin. 

“Such lovely and beautiful colors on your skin, myujeu sin. Perhaps when the night is done, you’ll be my perfect masterpiece, wouldn’t you like that?” A soft, shuddered breath slipped through your now swollen lips. His fingers trailed down your neck and to your chest that was still covered by your arm. His long fingers then wrapped themselves around your wrist, causing your heart to pound in your chest. “In order to make a masterpiece, I’m going to need to use the entire canvas.” He then pried your arm from your chest, revealing your dewy breasts to his eyes. 

Your cheeks exploded with embarrassed and self-conscious heat while his eyes raked up and down your entire, exposed body. His tongue wet his bottom lip as he hungrily ate up your appearance. Your flustered state certainly didn’t fail to decrease his desire for you. “Fuck…” he sighed. “You’re so beautiful...”

You froze suddenly at those words, eyes widening in shock. However, before you could open your mouth and respond to him, his lips attached themselves to the valley in between your breasts while his hands reached for your hips and gripped tightly on the soft flesh, causing a gasp to slip from your lips. 

He bit on the skin relentlessly, making you go into a moaning mess, while his fingers began to knead and massage your tender skin. The water surrounding you sloshed and splashed around from his rough actions. His eyes fluttered shut as he nearly lost himself in the moment of marking your beautiful skin. You were honestly too beautiful for words. Nothing could compare to your loveliness, not even Venus de Milo. 

A low moan rumbled from his lips and vibrated against your chest, sending shocking pleasure tingling down your spine and into your core. He continued to send languid open-mouthed kisses along the plush skin until his lips began to dwell lower and lower. He paused to give your stomach some special care, nibbling on the sensitive flesh until your skin began to sprout blotches of red and purple. Your eyes fluttered down from the ceiling, which you had been staring at during all of this, until you brought your head down to watch Taehyung continue his ministrations, his lips occasionally dipping into the water.

The moment your hazy eyes landed on him, his eyes fluttered open and made contact with yours, his irises dark with desire. Your breath hitched in your throat as your hands gripped the side of the tub tightly. His lips curled up into a smug smirk before burying them back into your stomach. You almost lost yourself in the pleasure that curled your toes.

It was then when his lips suddenly dwelt too low that your eyes flew open with a flurry of panic. “Wait! Wait!” you cried out, suddenly sitting up causing Taehyung to jerkily move back to give you some space. Water splashed between the two of you because of your sudden movement.

He wondered for a few seconds if he pushed you too far. He was certain by the look in your eyes that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Maybe he read into it a little too hastily. Perhaps you needed a little more time before he could pursue you. “What? What’s wrong? Did I go too far?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes. 

You were again deeply moved that he still held deep concern for you and tried your best to reassure him with a nervous smile. “No… it’s not that. I just…” Your voice trailed off as you bit your bottom lip anxiously. “I’m a virgin…”

Taehyung blinked a few times before huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s no secret. You look like a deer caught in headlights every time any of us make a move on you,” he replied, a boyish smile stretched across his lips.

You rolled your eyes and whacked his arm as all sense of anxiety momentarily left you. “No, you prat. What I’m trying to say is…” You cut yourself with a sigh. “I’ve never done this before. So I’m nervous…” Your mouth hesitantly closed, as you couldn’t sort through your muddled thoughts to get out what was on your mind.

Taehyung stared at you for a few seconds. The longer he did, the more anxiety began to bubble within you like soup on the stove. You gulped nervously, maybe this was a mistake, telling him your feelings.

“Do you want to?” he asked, eyes searching yours.

The question caught you off guard, to be honest. You sat in the tub, your sight taking in the water that still rippled from your actions from earlier. Did you want to? Did you actually wanted to have sex with Taehyung? In your mind, sex is what you did when you passionately loved someone. So, the question should really be… did you love Taehyung? 

Well, yes and no. You did love him, but you loved him in the sense you loved your best friend, perhaps even a little more considering everything you two have been through. You felt close to him, but there were so many things about him that you didn’t know about him. He was a mystery to you, and perhaps that mystery is what’s preventing you from actually loving him. You could just have sex with him casually, but you couldn’t bring yourself to use him like that. He was a person you’ve come to care about deeply, not someone you could use for pleasure and then act like there was nothing between the two of you.

You knew that he wouldn’t like your answer, but you slowly shook your head nonetheless. “No… I’m sorry. I think it was a spur of the moment. I think… before we just go head first into this, we should get to know each other a little better,” you managed to get out.

A small flicker of sadness appeared in his eyes before it quickly disappeared and he reluctantly nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no, I understand. We should go slow into this. I’m sorry that I rushed you there,” he apologized, giving you a small, sad smile in an attempt to console you. 

You fiddled with your fingers because of the anxiety still churning within you. “No, it’s me who should be sorry. I should’ve told you to stop before you got the wrong message. I just think that we should learn more about each other first before we even think about… you know…”

Taehyung’s smile formed into a more genuine one as he leaned back into the tub while propping his jaw on his hand, eyes staring at you. “God, you’re so innocent, you sweet summer child.” He readjusted himself in the tub into a more relaxed position. “Alright, what do you want to know about the demolition expert of the expedition team?”

Honestly, the first thing that popped into your head was what he revealed to you back at the museum gala. The story of what happened to his sister itched at you, but you figured that was a bit heavy for first really getting to know each other. You glanced to the side as you searched for a good question to ask him. “Um… what’s… your favorite color?” You trailed off into laughter at the ridiculousness of the question that tumbled from your mouth.

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Really? That’s what you ask?” He chuckled for a few seconds while shaking his head. “That’s the question you ask when you have nothing else to say. But… if you must know, it’s green.”

Your eyebrows shot up slightly at his answer. “Green? Really? That… wasn’t the answer I was expecting. You seem more like a red fellow.”

“Red?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Red isn’t bad, but I still like green best. It’s lively and full of so many beautiful shades and can be found almost everywhere in nature. The color of creation. I also like black, white, and grey. What about you, since we’re on the topic?”

You pondered the question for a few moments, trying to ignore the sense of awkwardness settling upon the two of you. “I think I’d have to say y/f/c.” You cleared your throat as you tried to think of better questions to ask. You suddenly blurted out, “Two truths, one lie. Go.”

“Huh?” Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, head tilting to the side slightly.

“Tell me two truths and one lie, and I’ll try to figure out the lie,” you explained, realizing that it was too late to take it back.

Taehyung continued to stare at you before he let out a small laugh. “I’ll have you know that I am an exceptional liar.” He sat back and thought over his options. A few long moments went by until he decided on what to tell you. “My hometown is Daegu. I can play the saxophone. And when I was a kid, I had a black and white cat named In-na.”

You smiled broadly with a hidden smugness. “Easy, you never had a cat.” He grinned to match your smile. “Wrong! It’s the-” He suddenly stopped himself and widened his eyes in astonishment. “How the hell did you figure that out?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dumbfounded expression. He was so certain that he was going to win! “I’m a reporter, remember? I can sniff bullshit a mile away,” you giggled, hugging your stomach as laughter erupted from it. “The left corner of your lips quirked up when you told the lie.”

“Damn…” He sunk back into the tub in amazement and shock. “You’re good...”

Once you finished laughing, you gave him a wide, proud grin. “Thank you, I’ve had years of experience.”

He nodded, slowly grinning back to match yours. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind for future reference.”

Your curiosity grew and soon you found you couldn’t resist asking him, “What’s Daegu like? Is it lovely there?”

His flashed to yours with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. Nostalgia? Sorrow? Regret? It seemed like it was clouded by a multitude of feelings. “Daegu? Well, it was home to me. I was born there, but I eventually moved to Gochang, where my grandma raised me. I have more fond memories there.”

You smiled upon realizing that you two had something in common, your love for your grandmothers. “What is she like, your grandmother?” you asked in a soft tone.

Taehyung shared your smile fondly. “She was very sweet and kind. Always patient with me even when I just wanted to play and ignored my chores on the farm.” He paused to reminisce simpler and happier times and then laughed with his lips spread into a boxy smile. “She always nagged me about eating more. Never liked it when I looked too thin for her eyes. She was happy when she saw how chubby I got from eating her food, not that I could blame her. Her food was always delicious.”

You giggled at the thought of a chubby, little Taehyung and cooed inwardly. He must have been so adorable then. “Aw, how cute…”

“I have to admit, I was an adorable child then, still am.” His smile morphed into a wide grin.

You laughed, feeling the anxiety from earlier ebb away as you relaxed into the tub. An overwhelming urge to splash his face with water overcame, and you couldn’t resist the temptation. You dipped your hand down and flung a wave of water at his face. The water drenched his face and hair, droplets falling from it slowly. He flinched at the sudden contact and froze, eyes slammed shut as he let out a sigh of verging impatience. As his eyes slowly opened, small streams of water running down his face, he slowly grinned mischievously.

“Oh, it’s so on…”

With that, you both started your water fight in which most of the water managed to end up on the ground rather than the tub.

—————————————

Morning crept up to you in a soothing manner. You didn’t wake up at the crack of dawn as you usually did. In fact, you actually got a good night’s rest away from all the drama and stress that had been preventing you from sleeping. It was rather comforting and relaxing, knowing that you actually felt rejuvenated for once in your entire life. You probably weren’t going to feel this good in another few decades, might as well enjoy it now.

As you sat up and stretched your arms, save for your injured one for you didn’t want to make the pain worse, your mind immediately reminded you of the events that occurred last night. Taehyung. You lazily smiled as your memories slowly came back to you. After your water fight, you both quickly dried off and ran back to your rooms before the cold air could really chill your skin, screaming at the cool contact and in laughter. Jin yelled at you both to get to bed, as it was well past midnight. However, you both ignored him and laughed on into the night before finally going to sleep.

As you crawled out of bed, you went to prepare yourself for the day. No doubt some of the others wanted to get together to figure out what the next step was in the plan. You should probably get ready for a spontaneous meeting. You powdered your face with makeup until you were satisfied with your facial appearance and slipped on some underwear before putting on a blouse, making sure the collar covered up the hickies that littered your neck, which caused your cheeks to flare up upon sight, and some trousers. You were extremely thankful that it was somewhat socially acceptable for women to wear trousers in this day and age. You were tired of wearing skirts, especially after last night. 

Once you slipped on your shoes over your heels, you sauntered over to the door and opened it before passing through into the hallway. You closed the door behind you as you made your way to the living room where you noticed some of the others were also awake. 

Namjoon sat on one of the couches reading the newspaper that sat on his lap while his only available hand held a spoon full of vanilla yogurt. He caught sight of you entering the room and gave you a cheerful smile. “Morning, y/n! Look what made the front page.” He momentarily set the spoon down in his bowl and lifted the newspaper up to you so you could read it. 

You couldn’t help but laugh seeing how the whole page was full of an extensive article about the supposed fire at the gala. The picture was a black and white image of people running out of the museum while police instead were running in with batons in the air and whistles in their mouths. This all must’ve happened a little after you got into the van with the others and drove off. You scoffed at how blurry the picture was. The photographer must’ve been moving when he took the image.

“They could’ve used a better picture,” you commented almost mockingly, leaning against one of the armrests of a chair with your arms crossed in front of your chest. 

Namjoon’s smile widened at your remark and pulled the papers away so he could continue reading the article. “I thought so, too. The quality is far too blurry.” He folded the newspaper in half and continued, “Apparently the police believe that the ‘fire’ that placed a few men in hospital was caused by some of the rebels of the Indian Independence Movement and are further investigating suspects.” He then tossed the newspaper onto the cushion next to him and popped his yogurt spoon into his mouth all while waiting for you to reply.

You pressed your lips into a thin line upon hearing this. Of course their minds would go straight to the protesters. “I don’t like how we have to use the protests as a cover-up,” you admitted with a frown, your voice grim. 

Namjoon pulled out his spoon and swallowed the yogurt before releasing a disappointed sigh. “Yeah, it doesn’t sit well with me either, but we really can’t do much about it unless we want to confess that Taehyung lit some people on fire and that we stole a priceless artifact from the museum.”

You shrugged your shoulders indifferently. “To be honest, Taehyung only did it out of self-defense for himself and us, and technically we were only taking back what belonged to your people,” you replied all too casually.

Namjoon quirked an eyebrow at your response and smiled rather bemusedly. “If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one who was so against stealing from the museum in the first place?”

“I was against the high possibility of going to jail,” you clarified, “but now that it’s all over, I’m glad we did it. It would’ve just sat in that building like a trophy won by the British.”

Namjoon’s eyebrow raised even higher, perplexed by your sudden attitude. “A British woman who is anti-British? Never thought I’d see the day,” he lightly joked, followed by scooping up another spoonful of yogurt and popping it into his mouth. 

Your frown deepened at what he said, although it was mostly playful. “Excuse you, I’m very proud to be British. I’m just very against the obsession my country has with colonizing every piece of land that they set their foot on.”

Namjoon paused for a few moments, as if thinking over what you said, and then chuckled. He crossed over his legs before looking back up at your face. “It’s almost ironic, isn’t it?” He then gestured to himself with his silver spoon. “The others and I are from a country that’s being oppressed by another nation.” He lifted the spoon and pointed it at your chest. “And you’re from a country that oppresses other nations.”

“You don’t have to make it sound like I’m some sort of a supremacist,” you quipped, then jabbed a finger of your own back in an accusatory way. “Before I forget, I have a bone to pick with you. Hobi told me that you were stopped by your fan club outside the museum which was the reason you couldn’t get in contact with us.” Anger flared within you like a small flame waiting for enough kindling to explode into a bonfire. “Couldn’t you send some sort of signal that you were preoccupied with things while I was busy trying to make sure Jin didn't die?”

You knew that he had somewhat of a valid excuse. He couldn’t just ignore his fans and come to your rescue. That would’ve posed him in a negative light and possibly make him a suspect of the whole disaster. However, you wished he could’ve wrapped things up with them a little sooner so that you had more than enough time to inform him of the sudden change in plans. That would’ve helped you de-stress immensely. 

Namjoon shifted in his seat uncomfortably and laughed awkwardly, sensing your smoldering anger. “Yes, about that… I wanted to apologize for that slight bump in our plans. I sometimes forget that people actually read my books and didn’t think of the possibility that there’d be admirers,” he confessed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I heard that you basically pulled everything together, and I wanted to thank you for that. You really did some quick-thinking back there.”

You sighed softly, feeling the anger ebb away at his honest reply. Picking at the arm wrap that still encased your wounded arm absent-mindedly, you responded, “I don’t know if I would call that quick-thinking. It was more like a panic-induced, adrenaline-high judgment call.” If anyone asked you to explain how you felt, you would tell that person it was like trying to manage several children who were all high on sugar who all decided to run off on their own while trying to avoid your ex-husband who was out looking for you. 

“Still, if you weren’t there, we’d either be dead in the sewers or sitting in a jail cell,” he pointed out, scooping up more yogurt before plopping it into his mouth. You visibly grimaced at such a thought. “Thanks for painting such a pretty picture,” you said sarcastically. “It makes me feel so much better about what happened…”

Namjoon’s face split into a bright smile. “Glad I could help. Anything to help you to relax a little bit. I know that you deserve some relief especially because of last night.”

Your heart slightly clenched at that. He was too nice to you sometimes. Sure, he could tease you to the moon and back; but when he was being sincere with you, man, he really knew how to make your heart throb and your stomach flutter for him. Man, in all honesty, he was the perfect man in your opinion. “You’d be the perfect husband, you know that?” It took you a few seconds for you to realize what your mouth just blurted; but when you did, your trembling heart suddenly stopped beating. 

You actually didn’t say that, did you?

Before Namjoon could reply, his eyes slightly round from your random remark, Hoseok suddenly walked into the room humming to himself loudly while attempting to peel open an orange. You sighed in relief that your conversation-gone-wrong was interrupted as you noticed how his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which made you wonder if he just performed some sort of procedure. Maybe he did a check-up on Taehyung?

Hoseok’s eyes suddenly perked up to you and smiled brightly. “Morning, y/n!” He tossed an orange slice into his mouth before continuing, “Jin is awake if you want to talk to him.”

Jin? He was finally awake? A pang of guilt suddenly shot through you as you realized you almost forgot about what happened to him. Man, you really were a horrible partner-in-crime if you completely forgot about your partner’s sudden collapse. You mentally slapped yourself for being so inconsiderate and replied, “Does he want to talk?”

Hoseok munched on his orange slice for a few seconds before answering, “Yep! In fact, he explicitly wanted you and Jungkook to go talk to him. I already told Kook, and he’s in there right now.” He swallowed and then tossed another slice into his awaiting mouth before wandering off toward the other rooms, probably Yoongi’s if you had to guess. 

Yoongi. You hadn’t spoken to him in awhile, especially with him being nose deep in his wiring maps and entirely focused on the plan. In fact, the last time you attempted to talk to him, he mumbled something about working before pushing you out of his room and closing the door. You quickly made a mental note to visit the mechanic soon and then chew him out for cutting the power at the absolute worst time before saying a quick farewell to Namjoon and walking over to Jin’s room. 

You stopped in front of the sherwood oak door with patterns carved into the wood as if it were some door from a fairytale story. An image of Jin begging for your help moments before collapsing flashed through your mind, causing you to scrunch your eyes shut as if you were in pain. You could still see him so clearly. The hazy eyes. The sweat building on his forehead. His breath on your face. Lips accidentally brushing against yours. 

Your fingers unknowingly touched your own lips, thinking of the way it felt to have his lips on yours. You didn’t know why you remained on that memory so much. It wasn’t like it was an actual kiss or anything. The way he fell just happened to make his lips brush against yours. 

You knocked on the door as a way to snap yourself from such thoughts and waited for a reply. When you heard a soft voice speaking on the other side, you turned the doorknob and slowly pushed it open, poking your head through first. You smiled faintly seeing the millionaire lying in his bed in silken pajamas with a bowl of soup in his hands. His head perked up with slightly round eyes at the sound of your entrance, soup dripping from his lips in small droplets.

A small snigger slipped through your lips at the sight as you slid through the doorway and closed it behind you. “Good morning, Jin,” you greeted pleasantly, “glad to see you’re well.” You made your way to the end of his bed and sat at the foot of it. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook sitting on a small stool placed right next to the bed, as if he were a family member comforting the dying.

Jin wiped his mouth with his hand and placed his bowl on the nightstand sitting next to him, a small smile creeping up onto his lips. “I’m glad I’m well, too. I imagine I gave you quite the scare back at the gala,” he commented, redirecting his attention to you.

You laughed almost bitterly, your laughter on the verge of coming across as a scoff. “That’s the understatement of the year,” you remarked, a few memories momentarily flashing in your head. “I thought you died back there for a good while.”

“It’s going to take a little more than that to kill me,” he chuckled, pulling himself up so that he was no longer slouching. “You were right about one thing though.” When you curiously raised an eyebrow, he continued, “The champagne had gone bad.” You rolled your eyes playfully, wondering how he could be thinking about that at a time like this. “I’m glad that’s the first thing you conclude from this whole disaster.”

“I’ve concluded a few things from what happened.” His expression had turned suddenly serious, as if he wanted to go straight to business. Folding his hands in front of him, he sighed before saying, “I shouldn’t keep you in the dark any longer about my past, now that you’ve done more than enough for all of us and are now on Akimoto’s bad list. You deserve to know by now.” He lightly gestured to the young man sitting next to him, acting as if no one was even there. “I brought Jungkook here to explain a few things about his past you should also be aware of, if he wishes to tell you.” He cleared his throat, suddenly becoming conscious of himself. “Now then, do you have any questions?”

To be honest, you had enough questions to fill an entire book. Last night only reminded you of how little you knew exactly about these boys. Just last night you found out that Taehyung was an artist coveted by the Japanese government to make propaganda for them. Hell, you’ve made out with several of them, and you didn’t even know when their birthday was! Talk about being a strumpet…

Although you had millions of questions boggling in your mind, you didn’t exactly know which one to start with. For Christ’s sake, you were a reporter, and you couldn’t even think of a single question! You then decided to go with the first question that just happened to pop into your head, even if it was completely randomly chosen. “Just who is this Mr. Akimoto? Why is he so bent on finding you two?”

Both of the boys shifted uncomfortably at the mention of that name. They glanced at each other reluctantly before Jin finally began, “Grand Marshal Akimoto Hatsuo of the Imperial Army. His unit focuses particularly on internal security and espionage threats against Japan. Normally I wouldn’t place so much emphasis on how much we need to stay away from him, but with the rise of militarism in Japan…” His voice trailed off ominously, leaving you hanging. “He’s quickly gaining power, and power in the hands of that madman is the worst thing that could happen right now.”

“And he hates Koreans with a passion,” Jungkook added bitterly. “Rumor has it that a Korean servant killed his wife, and now he harbours a great hatred toward them because of it.”

Jin snorted softly with a gentle roll of his eyes. “Lucky woman, if you ask me,” he mumbled with a hint of venom in his voice. “I would want to die, too, if I was his wife.”

You decided to ignore that comment and not dwell on it. Something told you that you would know more about this Akimoto after they explained everything to you. “You said something about being forced to change your name because otherwise you would’ve been executed, Jin. What is that all about?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Jin answered, his brow furrowing deeply in agitation, as if he were reminiscing a bad memory. “The government gave me two choices, if you would even call them that. Either I gave up my family name and adopted a Japanese name or I faced execution.”

“Yes, but why?” you further prodded, getting slightly annoyed that he wasn’t exactly giving you details. “Why go to such extreme lengths just for a name change?”

Jin’s jaw clenched slightly as a long buried anger began to bubble and boil within him. “It may seem like it would be such a fool’s choice to even consider execution, but agreeing to change my name to a Japanese surname is like being branded a slave. I was no longer Korean but rather Japanese by doing so, and, thus, I was now considered theirs. It was a show of dominance on their part, as if I were nothing more than a dog whose very name could be changed at the snap of their fingers.”

You could imagine now how horrendous it would be to be forced to change your name. It would be like a part of your identity, your humanity, was taken away from you. Jin didn’t even have the right to keep his own name. By changing his name, he was basically enslaving himself to the very government that continued to oppress his people.

“I remember when it wasn’t always like that,” Jungkook suddenly butted in, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “The government awhile back set a law saying it was illegal for us to adopt Japanese names, but now… now I wouldn’t be surprised if they suddenly enacted a law forcing us to change our names.” Jin lifted a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t jinx it,” he practically begged with a sigh. “I don’t want our people to have to go through what I went through.”

“But why did they even make you change your name? Why you?” you interrogated, your focus entirely on the topic at hand. “You said that’s what happened when you asked too many questions.”

The hand on his handsome face abruptly fell back onto the sheets, a small thud enacting upon impact. He suddenly looked tired, both physically and mentally. His features looked more worn and drained, as if he just spent all of his energy in these last few seconds. “When I was only seven years old, my father mysteriously disappeared on a business venture and never came back. My mother told me that he found someone else that he fell in love with and eloped with her, but I knew that wasn’t true. My parents were a happy couple. Of course, they disagreed on some matters, but they never continuously fought over it. When I became old enough to take over the family business, I began to make inquiries about what could have possibly happened to my father. It took some digging for awhile, but I managed to find a retired soldier who said he knew what had happened to my father. When I met up with him, he… he told me…” His voice trailed off with an audible crack.

He tried to swallow back a sob, his throat bobbing almost violently as he tried to hold back his tears. His lips parted as a shaky sigh escaped his chest, eyes shining with unshed tears. Your heart clenched at the sight, already knowing where this was going. You scooted yourself forward on the bed and wrapped your arms around his broad, squeezing him lightly in order to provide him some comfort. Jungkook looked down at the somberly before placing a hand on the older’s back and rubbing it soothingly, offering quiet words of condolence. “I’m sorry,” you murmured softly into his shoulder. “No one should have to go through that.” 

“It should be me apologizing,” Jin protested, voice slightly strained from holding back his sobs. He pulled away and wiped the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes with a soft chuckle. “You’d think after years of knowing I’d have grown used to the fact.”

“You shouldn’t even be growing used to it,” you responded, arms tightening around him. “No son should grow used to their father’s death.”

“...Thank you.”

You didn’t say anything in reply, allowing him to finally calm down at his own pace. He released another long sigh and paused for a few moments. Once he had somewhat relaxed, he continued with his story, his voice still cracked. “He... told me that my father was shot and killed for conspiring against the government by audibly protesting the annexation of Korea by Japan and rallying people to the cause and threw his body in a ditch to rot. A few days after I discovered this, the man I went to was found dead in his home... and all the evidence pointed to me. I was arrested and brought to Akimoto, who said that I was to be executed for killing a veteran soldier, unless I changed my name…”

Dear Lord! Things like these actually happened to people? You didn’t know how Jin managed to get through all of it. If you were in his position, you would’ve lie down in some corner and waited for your miserable life to end. You had to admit, Jin was very brave and strong for him to go through all of this and still continue to want to protect his country. You weren’t sure if you’d want to proceed after experiencing all of that.

“That’s… horrible…” You were honestly at a loss for words. To think people were capable of such things. It almost made you give up on humanity right then and there. You wanted to go back in time and just pound your fists over and over again into Mr. Akimoto’s wrinkled, ugly face. 

Jin nodded slowly and solemnly in agreement. “Yeah, it was. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I tried to be strong and not give into their wants, but… they kept me in that cell for so long I lost track of the days. My will grew weak as did my stomach and throat. So… I gave in.”

Jungkook’s lips pressed together in a thin line of subdued anger. “Bastards…”

Jin’s voice remained solemn as he gestured to Jungkook. “What I went through pales in comparison to what happened to Jungkook.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook mumbled quietly.

He continued, completely ignoring the younger’s quiet pleas, “How long has it been? It has to be at least-”

“Two years, one month, and twelve days.”

Jin studied Jungkook’s face, completely stunned by his sudden, and rather precise, answer. His eyes rounded into perfect circles as an awkward silence settled upon the three of you. Then his shoulders sagged in exasperation as did the roll of his eyes. “You’ve been keeping track? You’re gonna end up obsessing over what happened if you don’t let go of your past.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Jungkook retorted, earning himself a slap on the shoulder from the older man. “You know, it’s kinda hard to forget what happened when that day ruined my life forever.”

“Okay, okay,” you suddenly butted in, gaining the two men’s attention. “Can someone please tell me what happened instead of acting all cryptic?”

The playful atmosphere abruptly dropped into a more grim ambiance. The smiles instantly disappeared into more somber frowns as Jin glanced over to the younger man. Jungkook leaned back into his chair, arms crossed over his chest and eyes cast to the carpeted floor. “Y/n…” he softly began, “please don’t hate me after I tell you this.”

You scoffed humorlessly. “Unless you tell me that you secretly worked with the people that oppress the Koreans, I don’t think I’ll hate you, Jungkook,” you lightly joked.

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and then softly cursed under his breath before finally giving you an answer. “So Jin said that at the gala he told you that if Akimoto ever found me there would be a public execution, right?” You gave him a subtle nod, remembering the comment from last night. “Well, that’s because… The reason why I’m so good at fighting is…” He sighed, as if he couldn’t actually bring himself to admit to what happened, and rubbed the back of his neck. “... On April 11, 1928… I made an attempt to assassinate Emperor Hirohito…”

To say you were shocked was definitely an understatement. It took you a few seconds to process this information, a deadly silence falling upon you. You blinked a few times in a daze until your brain finally clicked, and in that instant your jaw dropped wide open as a weight had suddenly been attached to it. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline as your eyes became the size of saucers. Your heart suddenly skipped a beat as your throat dropped to the very pits of your stomach.

You were friends… with a would-be assassin…

You let out a long, drawn-out exhale that was seemingly trapped in your chest for God knows how long. You just couldn’t seem to wrap your head around what was revealed to you. Jungkook… attempted to assassinate… the Emperor of Japan…. This young boy… tried to murder… a world leader…

“H-how…?”

Jin was surprised by your reaction. “Huh… she’s taking this better than I thought she would.”

Normally, you would’ve retorted or smacked the millionaire, but currently you were so thrown off your rhythm that all you could do was stare at Jungkook with big, round eyes. You just couldn’t get in your head the thought that this sweet-looking boy, who saved you on multiple occasions, tried to assassinate the Emperor of Japan. This definitely topped the shock and astoundment that rocked you when Taehyung revealed you that he was an artist by tenfold. 

Jungkook shifted himself uncomfortably in his stool, his eyes flickering off to the side as if he weren’t unsure where to begin explaining himself. “Well… I traveled to Tokyo the week before to prepare myself and make sure everything was in place for the assassination. Hirohito was planning to travel back to the Akasaka Palace in a carriage, and I had it set up so that I was in a corner building on one of the upper floors. I was planning on sniping Hirohito in his carriage on his way back to the palace and then slip away during the chaos, but…” 

He ran a hand through his dark locks while a frustrated sigh hissed through his lips. His jaw clenched slightly. “I shot the wrong fucking guy. I shot his attendant who happened to look a lot like him instead. It was too late for me to make another shot as his guards were already scrambling around to protect him and find me.” 

Dear Lord… he actually went through with it. He actually made an attempt to take the life of the Emperor. You slowly closed your mouth, though your eyes still remained wide. You could feel the palms of your hands suddenly become sweaty as you took in this information. God, you just couldn’t actually believe it. A shaky sigh escaped your lungs as you commented, “Obviously… you managed to escape.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, watching your reaction closely, praying silently to anyone who was listening that you wouldn’t hate him, or, even worse, be scared of him. “Yes, the police were still on the ground when I decided to ditch my plan. So I stuck to the rooftops and managed to maneuver myself around the city. When the police got to the rooftops to search for me, I then decided to stick to alleyways and fire escapes. Sometimes I had to slide through random windows and hide in there for a while before I went on the run again. I finally managed to make it to the docks and stole a man’s ticket to Vietnam and took the ship out of the country. Then as soon as I made it to Vietnam, I traveled to a small village on foot and stayed there for a few weeks and then made it back home after the coast was clear.”

“However, the police are still on the lookout for him. They haven’t released this information to the public yet, seeing as how they haven’t arrested JK. After all, they don’t want people thinking that the law enforcement is incompetent, since they can’t even catch one man on the run,” Jin mentioned, mockery and contempt dripping from his voice.

“I’m just extremely lucky that they know it was me by name and not any photographic evidence.” When you gave him a confused expression, he clarified, although reluctantly, “They found documentation of my stay at a hostel in a village nearby Tokyo and managed to eventually piece everything together.”

“Ah ah! Don’t forget that you were lucky that I decided to help you by throwing the police off your trail!” Jin exclaimed, then clicked his tongue agitatedly before mumbling, “I suppose there are some useful things about being Akimoto’s dog.”

Your shoulders sagged slightly as your brain continued to process this new knowledge, a slight headache threatening to appear. “So you did all of this, because why? Did you think that by killing this man that all of your problems would be miraculously solved?” you demanded. Although you could understand his anger, in your opinion, it was an incredibly dumb move on his part. Jungkook was right. He ruined his entire life just by a simple pull of the trigger. 

Jungkook stared at you for a few moments, his eyes focused on you with a dull sorrow. For a solid moment, you thought you were staring into the eyes of someone who spent many years of their life fighting in the war. “I was just… tired and angry and frustrated and devastated and scared. I was so sick of seeing people forced into labor, people begging for food on the streets, daughters and wives being forced in prostitution in order to survive. I was sick of it! I thought that perhaps maybe, just maybe, if they lost someone dear to their nation, they could feel just a fraction of what we were going through. Their eyes would finally open up to the horror of what they were doing to us. But…” 

He paused for a few seconds as his fingers awkwardly folded themselves together. “Now, I know that even if I did kill him, I would only be giving the government the evidence they needed to prove that we were barbarians that needed to be controlled.”

You sat on the plush bed for a few moments, taking in everything you just heard and repeating it over and over again in your head. On one hand, you wanted to smack Jungkook on the backside of the head for how stupid and daft he was for thinking he could pull off something so dangerous on his own, but, on the other hand, you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and comfort him by whispering sweet, consoling words into his ears. You just wanted to tell him that, despite of everything he went through and witnessed, which seemed like a trip to hell and back, that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be alright in the end. 

However, instead of doing either of those things, you just sat there dumbly, your fingers playing anxiously with the quilt of the bed. These boys… what they hid from you… was absolutely horrendous. You just didn’t know how cruel humans could be to each other until that very moment. They were dragged through the mud and then spit on some more by those who deemed them lesser than the dirt that clung to their skin.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you these things before you joined, y/n,” Jin apologized, his mouth suddenly gone dry as sand. “I… don’t really know why I hid my past from you. I don’t know if I was ashamed for rolling over so easily instead of fighting back, or if I was scared you’d run away, or…” His voice trailed off as he couldn’t find the words to continue his apology. He slumped back into the fluffy pillows as his eyes now bore into the ceiling solemnly.

“Well, I could tell you for sure it was both of those reasons why I didn’t tell you,” Jungkook admitted, also leaning back into his chair with a soft sigh of regret. “I was ashamed for being such a failure but yet for doing so stupid, and I was scared you’d run away as soon as you heard that I was almost a murderer.” 

You didn’t notice how deeply you inhaled until your lungs screamed at you to release the oxygen trapped inside. Then you slowly let air out through your mouth as a drawn-out sigh. “Jungkook…” you began, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “I know I’ve only been in the group for a little over a month at this point, but after all we’ve been through, nothing could ever make me scared of you guys. Am I shocked? Oh boy, am I. Am I a bit overwhelmed? You can bet a pound or two, I am.” 

You paused briefly as you tried to organize your messy thoughts into an orderly fashion. “And I’m not mad that you kept these secrets from me. What happened to you both was definitely traumatizing, and I’m just glad to know that you two can trust to tell me these horrible things that you both experienced. I’m… I’m so sorry you two had to go through all of that.” A shaky breath escaped your lips as your throat began to suddenly tighten. These boys didn’t deserve any of this.

“We’re not the only ones that were victims of all of this,” Jungkook informed you, his thumbs twirling around each other to keep them occupied. “The others also went through things that no one should have gone through.”

Instantly, your mind went to what Taehyung revealed to you at the gala. How could you forget? You remembered so vividly the anger that flared in his eyes like a forest fire, blazing without mercy. The fury in his voice as he growled how he would rather die than give into the wishes of the Japanese government. In fact, behind those furious eyes of him, you remembered seeing a hint of hidden agony, as if you ripped off a bandaid to reveal a bleeding wound.

As you wandered through your memories, you murmured in reply, “Yes, I remember Taehyung saying something about his sister.” He came home to find her on the ground crying if you recalled correctly. You lifted up your head to look at both Jin and Jungkook with curiosity in your eyes. “What happened to her?”

The two men gave each other uneased,uncertain looks, as if they wanted to explain everything to you but were unsure if they were allowed to disclose such information. Finally, Jin answered reluctantly, “I believe that is something that Taehyung should tell you himself. It would be wrong of us if we just spilled his secrets without him knowing.”

He cast his gaze to the floor as if merely talking about it was bad enough. “Out of all of us, Tae probably got it the worst. He was continuously bombarded with misfortune-- still is to this day what with the government hounding him to make propaganda for them.”

You had to admit, you really wished they would just tell you instead of making you awkwardly ask the person in question. However, you understood why they believed it was for the best to let Taehyung explain his story. It was personal, and they shouldn’t tell others something so personal without his say in it. You would’ve wanted the same if you were in his shoes. 

“Alright…” you murmured, pausing for a few moments. “What else should I know about? Is Jimin secretly a rebel leader?”

Jungkook scoffed almost humorously. “Jimin? No way, he probably got it the best out of us. The worst he went through was facing school identity fraud.”

“Jungkook,” Jin scolded, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “What did I just say about respecting other people’s pasts? And don’t say he got it easy. He had his own hardships he had to deal with.”

The youngest rolled his dark eyes at the older’s motherly antics. He folded his muscular arms across his chest to match his annoyance. “Yes, mother,” he replied almost mockingly.

Great, now you wanted to know Jimin’s history. Your reporter instincts screamed at you to get the scoop, to learn more about the boys. Although guilt wracked your body because of it, you were awfully curious as to what the others’ pasts were. You wanted to know what made them into the people they were today. However, it seemed that you were going to have to be patient and wait for them to reveal such things to you once they were ready. 

“Thank you for trusting me with this, again.” As you gently clasped your hands together with a faint smile, you changed the subject by asking, “So, what’s next on our agenda? Now that we have the kobae, which is where again?” Now that you mentioned it, you had no idea where the kobae was. You hadn’t seen it at all ever since last night.

“Namjoon is keeping it safe and preserved, or so I’m told,” Jin answered, now making a move to slip out from the bed. The faint light that shimmered through the navy blue, velvet curtains enveloped him in a halo of light. “I’m glad he’s using his skills to keep the kobae intact. I would hate to go through all of this and for someone to accidentally break it.”

“Then why is Namjoon keeping it safe? He’s the one who breaks everything,” Jungkook commented, his eyebrows knitting together in slight concern. 

The image of the kobae shattered on the ground while Namjoon stood next to its remains with a sheepish smile appeared in everyone’s mind in that moment, but the millionaire merely brushed away the thought. “He wouldn’t be an archeologist if he broke every artifact he found,” he pointed out, then began to unbutton his top. “You two go to the living room with the others. I’ll meet you all there to discuss what the next part of the riddle means.”

After murmuring farewells to the leader, you and Jungkook got up from where you were sitting and made your way out of the bedroom. For some odd reason, you felt lighter coming out than you did going in, as if the weights that had been dragging you down were miraculously lifted. Perhaps by talking to the two and knowing that they trusted you with such dangerous secrets, the burdens of working with people you didn’t know disappeared. It made it a whole lot easier working with them knowing this.

And it makes it easier to make-out with them, a kittenish voice whispered in the back of your mind.

Your cheeks faintly flared at the sensuous thought and shoved the voice to the farthest corner of your mind. No, don’t think about that! Focus on the expedition!

You entered the living room where Namjoon was still occupied with his newspaper and now empty bowl of yogurt. You remembered your last words to him before going to Jin and immediately wanted to throw yourself out of the nearest window from the pure embarrassment that coursed through like a rapidly moving river. You really should stuff your mouth with your foot sometimes.

You sat on the couch farthest from Namjoon while Jungkook took a seat next to him. He rolled up his sleeves to reveal veiny, muscular arms, not that you were staring, and kicked up his legs so one was crossed on top of the other. You also crossed your legs and rested your hands in your lap. Well, it wasn’t like things could get any worse, right?

Wrong.

In that moment, Taehyung entered the living room from behind you, and, once seeing that you were also present in the room, broke out into a wide, boxy grin and snuck up behind you. Once he was standing directly behind you, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a back hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Morning, yeodongsaeng,” he murmured so only you could hear it.

You smiled gently at the nickname, although you had no idea what it meant. You found it to be rather endearing and sweet to call you something in his native tongue. You supposed that bonding time with him last night must’ve really worked, considering he was acting all affectionate to you in a platonic manner. Taehyung pulled away only to swing around and plop in the spot right next to you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him. You allowed this and even scooted closer to him because of the comforting heat that exuded off of him. The cool air chilled you a bit, so you were thankful for some body heat to cling to.

Jungkook rounded his eyes seeing all of this while Namjoon arched an eyebrow in bemusement. “Oh, did something happen last night that I wasn’t aware of?” Namjoon asked, now setting his newspaper to the side.

You gulped deeply after a large lump suddenly lodged itself in your throat, remembering the presence of the other two men in the room. Before you could answer him, Taehyung spoke out with his grin now turned mischievous, “We just enjoyed a nice bath together last night.”

Taehyung! You could’ve strangled him on the spot! Why on earth would he word it like that?! That made it sound like you-- you two--! Ugh!

You honestly wanted to either just crawl up into a small ball and just disappear from the universe or  to beat Taehyung with a crowbar for making your life a whole lot more complicated. Either option sounded wonderful at that current moment. Maybe you could even beat up Taehyung first and then disappear from the universe.

“A bath, huh?” Jungkook echoed, lips curling up into a small smirk, although it was partly hidden behind his hand. “I was wondering who was being so noisy last night.”

Now you wanted to beat Jungkook with the same crowbar. “Hobi said that I needed to take a bath to help ease my sore muscles after exerting them so much at the gala,” you explained, hoping that it would be enough to get rid of those vulgar assumptions that just so happened to be true. “Oh, I bet they were sore, all right,” Jungkook commented, his voice dripping with travesty.

Taehyung chuckled at the younger’s remark and glanced over to see what your reaction was, which happened to be you huffing irritatedly and shooting him a glare before you snapped your head away from him, your face still hot from embarrassment. He softly cooed upon seeing how cutely your face scrunched up in chagrin. 

“Nothing happened!” you cried out in irritation, wanting to wipe away these assumptions from everyone’s minds.

“Besides a small make out session,” Taehyung added slyly.

You whipped your head to face him. “Tae!” you gritted out. “I’m going to beat your arse!”

Suddenly the door leading to the elevator opened to reveal Jimin dressed lightly as if he went for a morning walk, which you guessed must have been true. He smiled pleasantly to everyone before dragging his fingers through his hair as he wandered over to the group. “Morning, everyone,” he greeted cheerfully. He moseyed on over to where you sat and plopped next to you, his thighs snug against yours. Dear Lord, did these boys not know what personal space was? “What’s the news?”

“We’re waiting for the others to come so we can figure out the next part of the riddle,” Jungkook filled him in. 

“Ugh, not this again,” Taehyung groaned with a roll of his eyes. His fingers drummed against your forearm, which did not go unnoticed by Jimin. 

The survivalist shot you a wicked smirk before quickly switching back to a mirthful smile. “Well, now that we have the kobae, hopefully that’ll make the next part easier to figure out,” he pointed out optimistically. 

“Well, aren’t you being such an idealist,” a voice suddenly spoke up. 

You turned your attention to see Yoongi and Hobi entering the room. Yoongi strode over casually before sitting down in a chair and kicking his feet onto the table that stood in the center of everyone. He wiped his oil dirtied hands onto a rag, as if he were just finished working on a car. 

Hobi took the chair next to him and sat down with his signature smile on his face. “Ah, Yoongi, maybe you’re being the pessimist,” he shot back with a short laugh.

“Or maybe I’m just being realistic,” he argued, stuffing his dirty rag into his coat pocket. There were still dark smears on his hands from hours of working, but nothing short of a lot of soap and water was going to get those stains off of his skin. “What even was the next part of the riddle? Something about a lake? There’s got to be at least a hundred lakes in India.”

“Actually, there are only sixty-two lakes here,” Jimin corrected, leaning forward on his knees.

Yoongi rolled his eyes annoyedly. “Sorry I wasn’t being precise, Mr. Tree Hugger. I was being what’s called exasperated.”

“Hey! I was trying to help you out!”

“No, you just wanted to show off.”

“... Okay, touché.”

The little argument was cut short by the sound of a door closing. Everyone looked up to see Jin exiting his room, fixing the collar of his grey suit and then readjusting his blue tie to match. You almost snickered at the sight of him. He never was seen not wearing a suit, even hours after being drugged.  

Jin joined the rest of the team, his leather shoes clicking against the floor as he smoothed out his jacket. He gave everyone a small smile, while everyone else made small comments about how glad to see him awake and walking around. He replied with words of gratitude and nods before finally getting down to business, as was expected. “I’m sure you are all aware that we must figure out the next part of the riddle if we ever hope to find the Dragon of the Stars,” he began, stating the obvious. “Does anyone have any possible ideas of what the next part could possibly mean?”

Namjoon reminded everybody, saying, “Remember, the riddle is ‘give drink with a bowl of stone waters from the lake of the moon’s flower to the Dragon in order to bring it to its homeland’.”

“Lake of the moon’s flower?” Yoongi echoed, arching an eyebrow subtly before turning to Jimin. “Got any ideas, since you apparently are an expert on lakes.”

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened before sputtering for a few moments. He managed to get out, “I don’t even know what they mean by moon’s flower! I mean, there is a flower called the moonflower, but that’s only native to the western part of the world.”

An idea suddenly popped into your head. “Oh! Oh! Maybe they’re talking about those flowers that only bloom at night time. What are those called?” you suggested eagerly, wanting to help.

“There’s lots of flowers that bloom at night, y/n. Evening primrose. Datura. Brugmansia. None of those flowers are native to India though,” Jimin shot down, folding his arms in front of his chest as he grew more frustrated by the riddle. “Well, except for the Brahma Kamal, but those grow in mountainous areas, not by lakes.”

“Besides, this lake needs to be in Punjab, since that’s where our ancestors ran to,” Namjoon remarked.

“Instead of focusing on the meaning behind moon’s flower, perhaps we could figure out a lake that has a lot of flowers. Any ideas?” Hobi proposed, looking around for anyone who could think of an idea.

Jimin sighed with a soft groan. “This is India, Hobi. There’s lots of lakes with flowers.”

Taehyung raised his hand to gather everyone’s attention before adding his own opinion. “What if they’re not so much talking about flowers so much as the moon. I mean, if you think about it, a moon in the lake would look like a flower, wouldn’t it?” 

“Then wouldn’t the wording be changed?” Jungkook argued, his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “If that were the case, then it would be worded ‘flower of the night sky’ or something like that.”

“I think Jungkook is right,” you added, your hand cupping your chin as you racked your brain over the riddle. “There must be a specific reason as to why they would choose to place emphasis on moon’s flower.”

“Okay, okay,” Jin interrupted the discussion. “Maybe it would be best if we placed ourselves in the shoes of those who wrote the riddle. If you were writing these clues, what would you include that would throw people off the trail?”

Yoongi scoffed softly at the idea of imagining he were a Korean man in India about two millennia ago; but regardless of how silly he thought it was, he kept his mouth shut and decided to humor Jin by following his suggestion. “Well, I’m trying to make sure the Chinese soldiers wouldn’t be able to figure it out, right? Then I’d refer to something that wasn’t common knowledge to the average Chinese person at the time.”

Jin nodded his head in agreement, eyes drawn to the floor as the wheels in his head were slowly turning. “Right, something the Chinese wouldn’t know, but our ancestors would know, specifically… something that these particular Koreans would know,” he murmured out loud.

“Wait a second…” Namjoon began, his eyes widening just a centimeter as the pieces began to piece themselves together. “These Koreans at the time, they’ve spent months-- maybe even years-- in India. They’ve probably spent a lot of time with the Indians around, so logically they would pick up a few things about their culture, right?” When everyone nodded with his reasoning, he continued, “So maybe moon’s flower refers to something about Indian culture--” He cut himself off and he suddenly sprung up from his seat on the couch in excitement. “Lilies! Lilies! Lilies are the symbol of the Indian moon deity, Chandra!”

“Oh my God!” Jimin yelled as he too lept from the couch and hopped around eagerly, the excitement pulsing through him in large waves. “There’s a lake known for its lilies! Dal Lake!” He bounced up and down like a toddler in a candy store. “Oh my God! We need to go to Dal Lake!”

Everyone broke out in a small celebration with loud cheers and shouting when the next part of the riddle was figured out. You contemplated briefly bringing out some wine to commemorate the occasion. After all, you were just about ready to throw in the towel until Namjoon and Jimin managed to figure out the next part of the riddle. However, there was one person who wasn’t quite ready to start celebrating yet.

“Not to rain on everyone’s parade,” Yoongi suddenly butted in a cool tone, “but what do we do once we arrive at this Dal Lake? The riddle says we need to ‘give drink to the Dragon’, but last time I checked, dragons don’t exist.”

“Well, it has something to do with the kobae, obviously,” Jungkook replied with a small shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe there will be instructions for us once we get there.”

Yoongi snorted almost bitterly at that. “Oh, yes, there will be a little post with a sign saying, ‘If you have the kobae with you, come right this way to the Dragon of the Stars!’.”

“Ah! Don’t be such a Debby Downer, Yoongi!” Hobi cried out, moving behind the mechanic before slipping his arms around his shoulders into a hug. “Did someone not get a good night’s rest last night?”

Yoongi shrugged the doctor’s arms off of him, rolling his eyes although a small smile graced his lips. “No, in fact, I actually slept really well knowing that everyone was alive and that we got away with infiltration and robbery.”

Jin redirected the conversation back to the previous topic, saying, “We’ve got a whole plane ride to figure out what we should do once we get to Dal Lake. I suggest we start packing up right now and get on the plane as soon as possible before Akimoto and his men get the chance to track us down.”

No one argued with him when he mentioned Akimoto and went straight to work packing up and leaving the city.

—————————————

No matter how many times you’ve been in a plane, you will never stop marvelling at how a simple machine could have you flying among the birds. You could spend hours just staring at the blue sky, looking down at the earth that you walked upon just hours before. 

Everything looked so tiny down below, like little tiny ants going about their day. When you weren’t looking down at the small world, you were busy ogling at the beautiful sky full of white clouds that reminded you of the dandelion seeds that littered your grandmother’s lawn. You remembered how you spent your childhood years playing with the fuzzy weeds.

As you were lost in your mind, reminiscing more innocent times, you didn’t notice anyone approaching you until they plopped down on the seat across from yours. You snapped your attention from the pale blue sky to see who suddenly joined you. You recognized it to be Yoongi, his forehead sweaty from working. He released huffs and puffs of air as his hand wiped away the sweat that began to collect itself on his brow.

Now that you thought about it, you recalled that Yoongi had to fix a certain part of the plane, which you happened to forget its name because you weren’t exactly listening, that required lots of heavy-lifting.

“Need a drink?” you offered, already moving toward your bag to grab a glass water bottle. The poor,  young man looked as if he needed about several bottles to quench his thirst.

“Yes, please,” he sighed in reply, his body slouching against the cushioned seat. You reached for the glass bottle and handed it to the mechanic. He weakly took it from your hand and uncapped it before taking large gulps of the cool liquid. 

You smiled faintly before briefly looking back at the view of the sky until he managed to polish off about half of the bottle. Wiping his hand across his mouth to get rid of the excess water, he asked with a raspy voice, “So, how is our heroine doing lately?”

You arched an eyebrow amusedly at what he said, your smile widening as a soft chuckle escaped your lips. “Heroine? Why do you call me that?” you questioned, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

Yoongi merely shrugged his shoulders indifferently in reply. “Lately everyone has been showering you with praise for managing to pull the museum operation through. I thought that I’d join them in that regard,” he answered nonchalantly, as if he were stating an obvious fact. 

Another chuckle left your mouth at how casually Yoongi said this. “Well, aren’t you such a sweet chap?” you remarked.

“You know, I act pretty friendly often, and yet everyone’s always surprised by it,” Yoongi observed, his shoulders sagging a little bit in exasperation.

“Only because people don’t know if you’re serious or not,” you replied.

“... Fair enough.”

Your smile widened as your eyes slowly began to return themselves back to the endless blue sky. You could never get over how beautiful it was. The color that painted the sky was something that could never be made by human hands. Nature was truly a marvel to behold sometimes.

“I’m still a little low-key peeved that you just happened to pull the plug right when Jin passed out. The whole blackout made finding Namjoon, Jungkook, and Tae so much more difficult than it needed to be,” you mentioned, although your jovial expression didn’t match the words that tumbled from your mouth.

Yoongi scoffed almost offendedly by what you said, his eyebrows knitting together and his jaw dropping. “Hey, I was just doing what we all agreed what time would be best for the blackout. It’s not like anyone gave me a signal that Jin just happened to get drugged right before I decided to flip the switch,” he defended himself, then sighed as he sunk further into his chair. “Man… I can’t wait for someone to invent instant communication. That would make my job so much easier.”

You laughed cheerfully at how passionate the mechanic got when defending himself. You couldn’t really blame him for the whole incident. He was right; everything that could’ve possibly gone wrong happened all at the same time. He really had no control over any of that. However, you just wanted to see what his reaction would be if you said such words, and, you had to admit, you weren’t disappointed with the results.

“You know, Hobi and I were hanging out before we got together and decided to head for this lake,” he changed the subject, setting the bottle on the floor next to him. “He told me that Jin was awake and was talking to you and Jungkook. He made a few comments about how long you two were in there. Mind sharing what you three talked about? Was it just those two praising you for your actions at the gala?”

You wondered to yourself what brought on this question for a few seconds. Did he think you all were gossiping about him? You contemplated whether you should mention that you were, in fact, discussing Jin and Jungkook’s pasts. “Jin and Jungkook both told me their pasts. Jin said his father was killed for conspiracy, and then he was basically made into a puppet for the government. Jungkook told me how he attempted to assassinate Emperor Hirohito but failed and is now on the run,” you disclosed, your tone calm as if you were merely discussing the weather. 

Yoongi slowly nodded as you explained everything to him, his eyes trained on you for any form of a reaction. Finally, he brought his gaze to the ground and was silent for a few moments, gathering his thoughts together before speaking his mind. “I guess you now know what our world is like. We were considered inferior to them, weak, powerless. Everything that gave us nationalistic idenity meant nothing to them. We were even told that it was illegal to speak our own language. So, yeah, you can imagine that all our lives were pretty shitty,” he described, his fingers tapping against the armrest of the seat. 

You tilted your head slightly to the side as you listened to him go off. Suddenly, you remembered that you knew nearly nothing about the mechanic, except for that he thought this entire expedition to be a fool’s journey and he was only doing this for the money. “What about you, Yoongi? What made your life so shitty?” you asked.

Yoongi stared at you with astonishment written across his face. “What? You want to know more about me?” He pointed to himself, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. When you nodded, he shook his head at lightning’s speed. “No, no. Sorry, doll, but that isn’t something I like to touch on. Believe me, it isn’t as thrilling as trying to kill the Emperor of Japan. Just know that it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows.”

You slightly pouted at that, your reporter mindset upset that you couldn’t get the facts. You wanted to know more about the others, and hearing how horrible their lives were didn’t exactly quell your curiosity. You tried to organize what you knew about everyone into different categories. 

Jin was basically property of the Japanese government after his father was killed, Jungkook tried to kill the Emperor but didn’t succeed, Taehyung currently was being harassed to make propaganda for the government and something happened to his sister, and Jimin apparently faced school identity fraud at some point in his life. That left Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi, who you barely knew about apart from their occupations and some minor details.

“You aren’t going to tell me even one thing about your past?” you sulked, hoping that your pouting would get something out of him.

Yoongi rolled his eyes at your persistence. “Fine, I’ll tell you one thing about my past.” You leaned forward eagerly, excited to hear at least one thing about him. “I learned all of my mechanic skills from my dad.”

Hey, it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Besides, the image of a young Yoongi being taught how to fix a car by his father had you cooing and murmuring fondly. The mechanic, instead, flushed furiously at how you were making cute noises, although his rosy cheeks were masked with a deep frown.

“Hey, what’s with the baby noises?” he demanded, his arms still folded across his chest.

“Nothing, nothing,” you giggled, then confessed, “I was just thinking about how adorable you probably were as a kid.”

Yoongi shook his head but still smiled a bit as you were sent into another bout of giggles. Oh, his cheeks must have been so chubby!

“You have to show me some baby photos of you, when this is all over!” you insisted, eager to see exactly what he looked like in his younger years.

Yoongi stared at you with such earnestness and flatly replied, “I don’t have any.”

Your bright smile quickly dissipated upon hearing this. What? How could he have no baby photos? Your family wasn’t rich either, but even your mother had a book full of black and white photos of you as a toddler. “My family couldn’t afford a camera. Hell, my mother could barely put food on the table. Sometimes I had a small cup of soup and that was my meal for the day.”

Ah… right, now you understood why this was a touchy subject. You cleared your throat awkwardly as a solemn atmosphere settled upon the two of you. Yoongi must have grown up in a poor family, which made sense why the pay of this expedition must seem so appealing to him. You recalled how he talked about giving the money to his parents who needed it desperately. You imagined what kind of financial situation they were in at the moment. No wonder Yoongi was so determined to get the Dragon. He just wanted to get the funds to his family.

Yoongi let out an irritated sigh as he slumped back into his seat. “Shit… I already let it slip,” he grumbled to himself in slight disgust, then redirected his attention to you. “Why are you so curious about us anyway?”

You brought your gaze back to him after sheepishly looking around from the tense atmosphere. “I just want to know more about you boys, is all. I’ve been with you all for more than a month at this point. I guess we’re at the point where we get to know each other on a more personal level now,” you answered reluctantly.

The mechanic studied your face for a few moments, searching for something that you couldn’t quite figure out. His strong stare caused you to awkwardly shuffle in your seat, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your core. “Then I guess it’s only fair that you tell me something about yourself first, since you want to know so much about me. So, tell me, y/n, what is something about your past that was shitty?”

To be honest, in comparison to the other boys, your life up to this point was a walk on a sunny beach while theirs was a walk on sharp, broken glass in the middle of a hurricane. You didn’t know anything that could even be compared to what they went through. Should you talk about how you fell out of a tree and broke your ankle? Perhaps you should mention the time a dog bit you in the arse as a little girl? 

Who were you fooling? You never experienced anything remotely close to what they went through!

“I haven’t really had anything happen to me that was as bad as what you all went through,” you admitted, your cheeks hot with embarrassment. However, this time it wasn’t from any teasing or flirtatious comments. 

Yoongi arched an eyebrow at your confession. “Is that so? Nothing? No dead parents?”

You shook your head. 

“No abusive childhood?”

Again, you shook your head.

“No government officials hunting you down?”

“Well… not in the past-”

“You know what I mean,” he interrupted, cutting you off abruptly. “How about living in hiding for as long as you can remember?”

…

At your silent reply, Yoongi nodded curtly and made a move to get up from his seat. “Then I don’t see why I should tell you my past if you can’t even begin to relate.” He stood up and fixed his clothing before taking a few steps away to leave you all by your lonesome, hands dug deep in his jacket pockets.

You sat there, your eyes glued to the floor somberly. He was right, you had nothing to relate to the boys. Unless…

“I was there when my grandmother died.”

Yoongi abruptly stopped in his tracks at your sudden reply. His head turned slightly to the side as his attention was grabbed by you. He stood there silently, waiting for you to continue on with your story.

Feelings that were long ago buried and forgotten suddenly resurfaced as you recalled the memories that were full of sorrow and grief. You really didn’t want to bring back these painful memories. But if you had any hope of connecting with these boys, then you had to give them something that they could connect with.  

You released a shaky sigh as you began, “My grandmother one day just suddenly collapsed in her home and was found by my mother a few hours later while I was busy playing in her lawn. She managed to get her in bed, but she was already in a coma by then. My mother and I stayed at her side for the next few days, tending to her needs and the needs of the house. Although I was a kid, I remember how she was just… lying there… motionless… just breathing. It was almost sickening to watch her waste away like that. With each day I saw how she had gotten thinner and thinner and paler and paler. She already looked like a ghost.”

You had to pause your explanation to give yourself a moment to cope with your long buried feelings. It’s been years, but the wounds of that event still stung when you looked back on it. It was like ripping off a bandaid that had been stuck on a scab for a while. It might be old, but the pain still hurt like bugger.

You continued after you managed to contain yourself, “There were some days where I just wished she would just die, not for her sake but for mine and my mother’s. I couldn’t handle seeing her deteriorate more each and every day. Every time my mother had to go in there to feed her or clean the room, she always came out in tears. I knew my grandmother was in a peaceful state, even if her body was failing, but watching her in such a state. I couldn’t bear it; I couldn’t bear to watch the grandmother I loved so much as she was dying.”

At this point, Yoongi had returned from where he was standing and sat back down in his seat, his eyes focused entirely on you as you began to blubber. You noticed the sympathy gleaming in his eyes as your throat tightened and stung. Your voice cracked on several different occasions as you told the story. It’s been years, why were you still so choked up over this? Why did it still hurt so much?

“And then, as I was just watching her body failing her one day, she just…” You couldn’t handle it anymore. The tears were too much to hold back anymore. Tears began streaming down your face in small streams as your body slowly wracked from your sobs. 

You briefly wondered if the reason why you were still broken over this decades later was because you never really told anyone your feelings about the whole issue. Sure, you showed your sorrow at your grandmother’s funeral, but no one ever asked you if you were alright. They all were too concerned over your mourning mother to really focus on you. No one ever told you that it was going to be alright like they told your mother.

Suddenly two arms wrapped themselves around your body, pulling you into comfortingly. You realized that Yoongi had pulled you in for a consoling hug, and you buried your face into his chest, letting your tears wet his shirt. One of his hands rubbed your head soothingly in soft, slow strokes, his fingers running themselves through your smooth hair. He whispered kind words into your ears in a hushed tone. “It’s going to be fine. You’re alright now…”

There it was. The words you’ve been dying to hear since you were a child.

You’re alright now… It’s going to be fine....

You cried and cried into his shirt until your eyes couldn’t produce anymore tears. All the emotions that you had bundled up for years flowed out like a cracked dam. Your head lulled heavily from how spent your body was as you slowly pulled yourself away. Man, you hated how tiring it was to cry.

You rubbed your eyes to wipe away any excess tears that still clung to your face, sniffling every now and then to stop your nose from running with snot. Ugh, you must look horrendous from how hard you sobbed. You hadn’t cried like that in years. Your emotions must have been pent up for so long they suddenly exploded from just telling that story.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with a weak laugh. “I don’t know what came over me…”

“It’s me who should be saying that,” Yoongi replied in a quiet tone. “I pushed you too hard. I shouldn’t have been so cold to you. You definitely went through some hard times, too.”

You gave him a sad smile as you wiped away the last of your tears. “I don’t think anyone has ever lived an easy life.”

Yoongi smiled back to you faintly and lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug. “Maybe you’re right.”

You stared at each other for a few moments, just appreciating each other’s company. You felt awfully closer to Yoongi after telling him about the death of your grandmother, even if he hadn’t said anything about his own past. It was nice to know that someone was there for you, ready to wipe away your tears and hold you close. You hadn’t really had anyone like that before you joined this expedition. You had to admit, it was nice to have someone you could depend on in that regard.

However, your serene moment didn’t last long, as suddenly the plane shook with such violence that it nearly threw you out of your seat. Your ears rang like a bell was tolling in them as a loud explosion erupted just outside your window. A scream escaped your lungs as you were then tossed to the floor as the plane lurched up and down a few times, boxes and supplies now thrown everywhere from the plane’s jerky movements. Just what on earth was going on?!

Yoongi, who landed on the floor next to you, suddenly shot up and gripped the nearby armrest for support. He groaned quietly in pain from being thrown to the ground and looked outside the window that you have been staring out of just minutes prior from all of this. He squinted his eyes to focus on the problem before they suddenly widened to the size of saucer plates. His jaw dropped rather unceremoniously as a sharp gasp slipped past his lips.

“Oh… no…”

You crawled back up to your feet and stumbled after Yoongi, nearly falling down a few times from how unstable the plane’s flying had gotten at this point. Once you grabbed onto his shoulders to keep your balance, you looked out the window to see what nearly gave you a heart-attack. And, just like Yoongi, your eyes rounded and your jaw went slack at the sight.

The plane’s turbine was currently up in flames, and it didn’t look like it was going to keep you all in the air for much longer…

“Everyone!” Jimin suddenly screamed from the cockpit, his voice full of terror as he struggled to keep the plane somewhat stable.You heard the sirens and saw the red flashing lights from the cockpit going sending terror through your entire being.  “Grab onto something secure! We’re about to crash!!!”

Oh… fuck… you could never catch a break...

#bts #bts x reader #ot7 #ot7 x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts au fic #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #treasure hunter au #indiana jones au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #fanfiic #trash

[gumnut-logic]

6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in Gentle Rain?  (for @janetm74 )

Okay, I can cheat somewhat with this one as I routinely keep a file for chunks of text I cut out of fics while writing. So I actually have a few of the scenes this question asks about (probably a good thing since my memory is useless).

One thing I must say is that the clincher scene where Virgil collapses in Thunderbird Two in Chapter Twelve didn’t originally happen there. I knew he was going to collapse from about Chapter Two or Three onwards, it was a target scene I was writing towards. However, he was originally supposed to collapse in Two’s hangar and be found later. The problem with that was the condition he developed (which evolved as I wrote) would have killed him if that happened. He needed someone there to save his life (sorry, Gords). So he didn’t make it back to Tracy Island before he found he couldn’t breathe.

As for scenes cut out, there were several, most of which don’t make much sense reading them now and some are just lines, but here are a few.

One of the initial challenges was finding a way to get Em and Scott to actually meet beyond the initial incident. Initially, I had Scott eager to meet her, but realised pretty quickly that the eldest Tracy wasn’t going to be that easy.

Scene: Em’s hospital room shortly when Kayo initially introduces herself.

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a beep. She sighed. “Yes, I am Kayo. Please excuse me.” And she turned away, holding her wrist up.

There was a flicker of light and a familiar voice spoke. “Kayo, have you found her yet?”

“Scott, have patience.”

“Kayo-“

“You are aware that she can hear everything you are saying?”

Em had to smirk.

“I would be if you had told me.”

“I would have told you if you hadn’t interrupted me before I could say anything. And no I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Kayo-“

“Patience, Scott.” And there was the click of an ended transmission. Kayo turned to face Em again. “My apologies. As you can hear, he is recovering well.”

“Still an argumentative brat apparently.”

“It’s one of his strengths.” She took a step back towards the bed. “He was wondering if you would be willing to meet with him. He wants to thank you for everything you did.”

Em blinked. “What?” She shifted her shoulders. “Um, er, okay.” Oh so confident and professional of you there, Emaline. She kicked herself internally.

But then she realised exactly what she now looked like. She bit her lip.

-o-o-o-

Em initially reacted completely differently to Kip’s sudden presence in the Tracy’s living room.

“What you be doin’ here, honey.”

“It’s Em, as you well know. And I’m here as a guest. What are you doing here?”

“Same.”

And the conversation ended there.

The silence was ominous. The Tracys in the room stared at each other.

Alan arrived on the scene a few moments later having secured Tracy Two. He stared at the tableau. “Okay.” He held up his hands. “I’m just going to back away quietly.”

Penny stepped around Em. “Crispin, dear, have a seat. Emaline, I advise you to do the same.” The aristocrat walked calmly into the sunken lounge and took her own chair. “Alan, do be a dear and find us some tea. I am absolutely parched.”

Alan appeared quite happy to play Parker if it would get him out of the room. Grandma and Kip took a seat together almost directly opposite from where Em came to a halt inside the circle.

Scott made a note to create a space in the lounge for ease of access, for either TB imPatient or Em’s hoverscoot. He himself pulled up beside Em and reached once again for her hand.

She responded and shot him a worried smile, her fingers curling around his.

The motion did not go unnoticed, but frankly Scott didn’t care.

Penelope, of course, was a picture of respectability.

-o-o-o-

At some point Gordon was appreciating his brother, but I’m not sure exactly what scene this was cut from. has some good lines though.

Virgil was the kind of guy you could tell your deepest problems to and he would simply listen, no judgement, no censure. Sure, get him before his coffee and you may leave minus a body part, but the man would sew it back on for you later.

Gordon and Virgil were so different, yet it was what made it work.

Of course, everyone raved about the ‘bond’ Virgil had with his older brother, sure. But Gordon liked to think that he had something with the Tracy bear, too. Something a little different, a little unique. And he knew Virgil trusted him, despite the pranks and the jokes and snide remarks. They were brothers and it went beyond all that.

So when Virgil sat down beside him at the helm looking like death that hadn’t been warmed up...

-o-o-o-

Originally, when Kay left Virgil’s hospital room when she told him she couldn’t handle him giving his life to IR, Virgil lost it and had to be sedated. This proved to be completely ridiculous and OOC and was dumped (I think one of my beta readers nabbed me on that one). The scene I have has been partially rewritten, but the remnants are there.

“What the hell was I supposed to do? If Brains dies, International Rescue dies with him!”

Kayo had tears in her eyes. “And what do you think would happen to International Rescue without you?”

His heart stuttered and it had nothing to do with his injury. He reached out to touch her but she stepped away. That hurt even more. “Kay? Please?”

“No, Virgil, you have to understand this.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Without you, there is no International Rescue.” She swallowed and another tear drifted across her beautiful skin. He so wanted to touch her. “It shouldn’t be that way. I can’t share you that much. I want to share your life, you...you can’t give it all to iR. Please, Virgil.”

He reached for her again, desperate to touch her. “Kay!” She took another step back. Her head was shaking ‘no’, tears running freely. “Kay, no, don’t, please don’t!”

“It has to change. Things have to change. I can’t...I can’t...” Whatever she was trying to say dissolved into a sob and she turned away. “I can’t.” She ran from the room.

“Kay, no!” The machinery monitoring him screamed as he tried to get out of bed. A mob of nurses came running and he was buried under a sea of medical white.

“Mr Tracy, calm down!”

“Kay!” His face was wet. He struggled against hands. “Kay!”

“Mr Tracy!”

“Kay, please!” But his heart was hammering in his chest and he was gasping for breath. Spots danced in his vision. He couldn’t.

Please, Kay, I’ll do anything...anything...

“Mr Tracy, if you don’t calm down, I will be forced to sedate you.”

He stared at the blonde haired nurse so opposite from his Kay.

He let all his muscles go, falling slack back against the bed. A sound far too much like a whimper passed his lips.

Kay?

God.

Anything for Kay.

-o-o-o-

Words passed over his head, he ignored them, he needed to get to Kay.

But something flooded his system, a calming, sleep inducing cold. It wrapped around his mind and pulled him down. “No! Kay!” His voice was fading. He had to get to Kay. Please, Kay, I’ll do anything...anything...

But the cold seeped into his mind and took it away.

-o-o-o-

The Epilogue was rewritten a couple of times. I had an argument with it. In the process I killed off an entire original character, Frederico. Poor Frederico. I should revive him in another fic.

“Virgil’s a target?” Scott’s whisper was fierce. They were standing outside a meeting with the Colonel Casey, Lauren Davis and a representative of both the Western Australian Police and ASIO.  

John bit the inside of his lip. “Kayo tagged Em with one of Virgil’s trackers. The timing was just too perfect, too coincidental. Either the bombers were after Em or Virgil. Probability puts Virgil at the top of the list.”

“How did they get the frequency?”

“Unknown.”

“Re-scramble everything. I want everything changed. Start with the frequencies, but speak to Brains, I want everything upgraded, even the subcutaneous.”

John gave him a single nod. That was going to hurt. “Already in progress.”

“Have you told Kayo?”

“No, but I have no doubt she is fully capable of putting the pieces together.”

Scott nodded, but his expression changed, even more concern deepening his frown. “If they wanted Em or Virgil, why bomb a bridge?” He swallowed. “Why not just kill or capture? And it would have been obvious it was coming from Em not Virgil.”

The knot in John’s gut only twisted tighter, his brother was thinking out loud. “Perhaps they wanted to see how we would react? How important Em is to the organisation?”

There was so much anger in Scott’s stance, John fought the urge to take a step back. “Goddamnit.” He clenched a fist. “I want to know who, how and why. Full resources, John. Get Kayo and Penny on this. I want it fixed and I want them found.”

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil found her in her office, hissing at one of their agents. “Frederico, so help me, if you don’t take this seriously, I’ll strip you of your IR credentials and throw you in the Atlantic.”

“Is that a death threat?” Virgil couldn’t help but smile. Frederico never took anything seriously, much less a death threat from his boss. He did, however, do an exemplary job at finding information to not be serious about.

-o-o-o-

But one of the scenes I had to cut quite hard was the scene where Em and Scott woke up in the same bed. Apparently, they were ready to take their relationship much further than I was and I had to draw their amour to an abrupt halt before it got entirely out of hand.

God, she was beautiful. Breaking off, he kissed her jawline, tracing it around to her ear and nibbling on her lobe.

Her fingers teased the hair on the nape of his neck, while her other hand slipped under his jacket, brushing across his shirt, around his ribcage to his back, fingertips digging in at his ministrations.

“Scott Tracy, you know how to drive a girl wild.” Her voice was rough and he took it as permission to continue a trail of kisses down her neck, nuzzling her collarbone.

His reward was a gasp at his touch. His left hand had found the bare skin of her back once more and was denting that softness enough to hold her close. His other hand was at her waist, satin between his fingers.

“You are one gorgeous man.” And her tongue was in his mouth again, urgent against his.

-o-o-o-

Please keep in mind these are all trash can scenes and were cut for good reasons.

I hope they provide a little amusement.

As for what was added to the fic...I write very haphazardly and by the seat of my pants most of the time. The whole fic was added after the first chapter really :D

Thanks for asking and for reading all that :D

Nutty

(Who should write more Em, I miss her)

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #gentle rain

[the-nysh]

I find myself unable to think of Bakugou in any way more positive than "dislike", because he reminds me too much of the people who made my life miserable when I was growing up. (Not that it makes him bad; it's just my emotions.) Do you've any advice on how to bend my mind around that? I don't need to LOVE him, just mentally separate "him" and "the people who make grade school suck for me" so I won't irrationally hate him, because I don't LIKE hating characters.

Hi there! I’m glad to see you come forward, especially tosomeone who’s a big fan of him, after happening to see how far you’veventured through my tags already (whoa dedication!) to seek possible answers or further clarity about this,especially if it’s something that’s still bothering you, oraffecting/preventing you from fully enjoying the series. Because of that, I cantell how serious and genuine you feel about this, so I will take this seriouslyas well. 

(Below, 1800+ words)

Another thing is that it’s okay to feel this way, your personal experiences are still valid,and there’s no obligation to force your feelings otherwise, or subject yourselfto content that may be uncomfortable for you. Please continue to take all theprecautions needed (blocking/blacklisting) for an enjoyable and productivefandom experience. But understanding that even if the characters may havecoincidental similarities to our pasts, they are not direct projections of us, the people in our lives, or our realities.Their world is not ours. So this awareness is another good step to have, tobegin seeing the story (and characters) more openly, objectively and closer tohow Hori originally intended.

Since you’re willing to learn more, and as you may have already seenfrom my content here, Bakugou (Kacchan)became my definitive fav character of the series, but not for thoselingering resentments mentioned. The compelling character I see is so much morebeyond that first ch’s established baseline, which was narratively placed and designedto contrast against who he becomes later on. As a means to gauge and appreciatehis growth and the journey of how far he’s changed into becoming a proper,well-rounded, better person and inspirationalhero. The kind of emotional narrativefocus that always gains my interest and priority to see develop. Already, theperson he is now at 215+ chs is not the same as who he was at ch1 (neither ishe the flanderized, fanon stereotype many have been misled or indoctrinated tofirmly believe he is), and he will keepon developing as the story marches on. I am fully on board to witness thathappen. 

The challenge now, is not letting his initial baseline impression(or the feelings from your own separate –but equally valid– experiences, oreven the vitriol from others) stain or cloud that entire slow-burn progressionof the story going forward. Otherwise the important milestones and insightsinto his character that Hori leaves along the way (which can sometimes bedifficult to see from Deku’s limited pov) end up getting obscured, ignored, oroutright rejected from an internalized feeling of ‘hatred’ that tends to blockout anything newly introduced that would challenge that preconceived perceptionof him. However, to mentally reject such change and prevent the valuedimprovement of a growing person (a learning child in his formative years, forinstance), to otherwise keep the status quo static and unmoving, to permanentlystay rooted exactly the same way as thestart…would in fact be a much more toxic/harmful mindset to have, and actuallydefeats the purpose of telling a proper story as well. 

Setbacks to that challenge unfortunately include thewidespread availability of biased mistranslations (even from official sources),poor/oversimplified characterizations from non-canon content(movies/novels/merch, etc) that’s not written directly by Hori, because all thesethings just reinforce and exacerbate the problem of inflating fanon stereotypesand those preconceived notions that people have already solidified in theirminds as true (when they often aren’t). It gets even worse, and ironicallyhypocritical, when those same people start feeling justified they can go out oftheir way to attack others (includingthe author) for how to ‘properly’ enjoy and interpret the series (for beingdifferent or ‘incorrect’ from the perceptions they believe to be right). Butwhat’s happened is they’ve begun to blindly act on feelings multiple levels sofar removed from what actually is (whatexists as presented within canon, vs what they believe in fanon, vs what exists separately that may beplaguing these people’s real lives), that by then, that kind of maladjustedsocial behavior is inexcusable. Stepping back and realizing when things start crossinglines irrationally out of hand, to prevent that kind of behavior from happeningin the first place, (and again, by taking measures to block/blacklist stuff thataggravates or makes you feel uncomfortable), is the much wiser approach toparticipating and enjoying fandom. So that no matter what happens or what otherssay, they can’t impact or ruin what you love about the series.

Which in my case, includes Kacchan’s character. Basedon what Hori has consistently presented in canon, I can conclude and freely admithe’s the only character I can fully trust. Amazing, right? Because he hasabsolutely nothing to hide. Everything he does (not through his harshwords/temperament, but through his genuine actions),is extremely forthright and honest. He does not half-ass things or hide anyother ulterior motives or malicious intent beyond his dedication to become the best hero. And he takes that goal very seriously. Striving for and expectingexcellence from himself (and all themental pressure that self-imposed perfectionism brings) and others. Currently in the manga that includes Deku now too, whomhe willingly goads (showing support in his own way) and checks in on for hisprogress too.

Remember his fights in the sports tournament, how he takesall challengers with equal commitment/opportunity (gender does not matter),provided they give him their best inturn as well, because to do otherwise –to go easy on them or hold back– wouldbe disrespectful and underestimating an opponent. There’s a very just and admirablehonor in that. Remember how he can’tstand anyone looking down on him, which includes how he misinterpreted Deku’sfeelings of admiration for disdain(he could not accurately read Deku’s intentions, and became so perplexed by himthat he assumed the worst: that Deku looked down on him instead). Considering the level of seriousness and effort he alwaysputs forth, to be confronted with the opposite would be personally insulting.

Remember when the villains invited him to join their ranks(because they misread and shallowly judged his character), he stuck to his idealsand outright refused their offer.(Boldly exploding villains in the face~) Risking death over playing it safe andlying to pretend to follow along totheir whims. (How brave and badass is that?!) Kacchan does not lie, cheat theeasy way out, or do things he’s not feeling or doesn’t agree with. Again, honesty. Becoming a villain, a traitor,or betraying those who’ve earned his trust? Absolutely no chance. Afterlearning AM’s secret and finally understanding/rectifying everything that didn’tadd up about Deku, would he go behind their backs by breaking promises? No way.Again, most trustworthy character. 

Rereading the story a second time over, but from his perspective, practically doubled myappreciation and enjoyment of the series. Thinking about how the foundations oftheir society impacted his world views at such a young age, to the very betrayal he must have felt thinking achildhood friend lied to him aboutsomething as important/vital as a quirk. (And if we already know how he feelsabout cheating liars…hmm, faithful loyaltynow feels like a valued trait.) Other factors include his relatable giftedchild syndrome, all the complexes born from that, and for how extremely intelligent,competent, and much more calmly calculating he is than his short temper may lead one to believe. How he was oncea ‘big fish in a small pond’, now thrust into the ocean to compete among evenother bigger fish, with the pressure to both succeed and prove himself…all whilehis previous world views are checked and challenged every step of the way.

For years he’d been valued and praised for only the promisingpotential and primary trait of his strong quirk. (The reinforcement for his badbehavior on the other hand? Not valued with the same proper attention.) Alreadythat’s an unfortunate consequence of their quirk-filled, hero-commodified society. Think of justhow shallow/fake groupies would be, or how annoying and hollow it would feel tohave people cling to him just for that (for talent and skills over his meritsas a person), and just how difficult forming genuine, natural bonds would be… (Becomingself-reliant now becomes another added pressure he has to juggle on his own.) Beforequirks had ever entered the picture and complicated things further, Deku was probablyconsidered the closest friend he had. Until…misunderstandings happened, andthen the only thing he wanted was for Deku to stay away from him. (A misconception is that Kacchan actively soughtDeku out, when it’s actually the opposite: Kacchan only reacted if Dekuencroached on him too closely.) Because he feared how Deku made him feel,forcing him to face his own shortcomings, and address perceptions of reality hedid not want to face. Because for someone he perceived as the weakest, to boldly goagainst that and do what Deku did (help him out of concern/kindness, but thatintent only read as pitying to him),made him feel even below that. And what’slower than the low of the weakest/most useless? Pretty ouch, so stop followingand stay back. Yet Deku just kept on coming back no matter what, for reasons hecouldn’t yet understand. (Deku felt genuine care and admiration for him, whichKacchan hadn’t realized, so gah, dramatic irony.) His changing feelings, correctinghis attitude, and clarifying his relationship to Deku, who continually challengesand defies his very worldview and perception of weakness, brings a whole otherfascinating draw to the series, which would take a whole other essay to fully analyze(but which many other fans have thoroughly done so already). 

Further considerations include his struggles facing other relatablefeelings. How he confronts the pain and weight of experiencing loss, survivor’sguilt, and assessing powerlessness and the inability to save situations beyondhis control. Internalizing self-doubt, hatred, failure, and inferiority…because‘if only he were stronger.’ What Isee is a child overburdened by expectations and responsibilities beyond hisyears…who has to learn to process and overcome many of those same feelings I’vealready gone through and had to come to terms with growing up. (The very reasonhe’s often and endearingly referred to as a ‘son.’) The majority of adults inhis life assumed he was already ‘strong enough’ and ‘fine’ on his own, theyneglected to give him proper mental guidance going forward (AM even admitsthis). And we unfortunately see the tragic consequences of that. But fortunately,things are getting better, and Hori’s story for him still isn’t over yet.   

Overall, what I see is the chance for an excellent,multi-layered, and well-written character to become even better. And that’s why his narrative is so particularly engaging. Doeshe remind me of the kids that once made certain social aspects of grade schoolinsufferable? No, because that’s not who he is; he’s so far removed and beyond them, that they’ve become extras whono longer matter anymore. Instead of lingering on such negatives, it’s insteadthe positive aspects about him that shine through even stronger. The fact heisn’t perfect, but deeply flawed and learning to address his shortcomings in nowmore productive ways. This progression and growth makes him interesting, and combinedwith the many other traits I’ve mentioned above, favored and loved bymany. Although ultimately I can’t change your opinion about him (that’s stillup to you to decide, and it’s ok to still dislike characters), hopefully I’veintroduced new ways of perceiving and appreciating his character for you. Tohelp see some of the positives that Deku always valued in him as a drivingsource of inspiration too: to strive hard despite life’s setbacks, and win. ‘He may be a jerk, but he’s amazing.’

#pomrania #replies #bnha #kacchan #meta #manga spoilers #long post #speaking from the perspective of him as my fav #hopefully this sheds some new light #(and i think i covered everything i wanted to say) #this is also why i mentioned before that the message of mp100’s mogami arc is important #and what i mean when i say minori’s ‘imcomparable levels of cruelty’ #because kacchan is definitely not that #but the ability to change; grow; and forgive even the worst of who people used to be #is multitudes more valuable; stronger; and daresay heroic #than regressing into a hateful vestige of a non-functioning human like mogami #that kind of message still rings true here #the fact deku still cares despite seeing the worst from him is testament to how genuine his feelings are for him too #so instead of focusing on the worst...here i explain those cherished positives too

[kirishii-gay]

Kiribaku- Journey with me to the great unknown

Based on the new mountain climbing official art! Word count: 1.6k Summary:

When he was at the bottom, alone and lost, Kirishima held out a hand with that stupid shark-toothed grin of his. Gave him gentle words that were sugar-sweet and regained his life. Proudly helped him up every time he fell and helped him back on the path to who he wanted to be, even if he knew that he wouldn’t be part of that. Kirishima was the only one who could do that.

The only one who could stand by Bakugou’s side. The only one who could tame his beast of a heart with that gentle smile. It’d always been him. From the very beginning, until now.

READ ON AO3 HERE -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557188

If you’d like a request, drop a pairing and prompt in my inbox!

Kirishima stood at the bottom of the mountain, camping back utop his back, his hands gripping the arm holds as he looked up in awe. The mountain was huge, a delicate green that sprinkles across the surface in small tufts of green grass. Trees climbed up the path accompanied by ash brown twigs and leaves that were perfectly scattered in clusters around the floor. With each move, a soundly crunch was formed from the collision of his boots against them, and Kirishima found the sound appealing. The messy array eventually cleared into a narrow path that crawled up the near center in a jaggering line, leaves and twigs moved to reveal a dusty blond land, topped with minuscule rocks hidden amongst the surface.

Kirishima craned his head up in an attempt to see the top of the mountain, but it towered far beyond his view.

Heavy footsteps began to sound behind him, the sound of twigs and leaves rustling under the approaching person’s feet. Kirishima grinned.

Bakugou adjusted the heavy pack on his back as he caught up to Kirishima, his eyes narrowed and his face perfectly embraced in a warm glow. Bakugou’d blame it on the used energy to walk from the original site to here, but Kirishima thought otherwise.

“This is the mountain, Eijirou. We’ll take a look at the top and then our campsite is to the right of the bottom of it.” Bakugou explained, holding out his hand. His explosive palm was sweaty, the thick skin cherry red and hot underneath Eijirou’s palm. Eijirou held it to his lips and caressed his hand with a feather-soft kiss and Bakugou’s cheeks began to burn. He’d have a hard time blaming it on being sweaty if Kirishima kept this up.

“Lead the way, King Katsuki.” Kirishima grinned, giving his hand a squeeze as they dropped back to his side. Kirishima used his free hand to attempt to adjust his pack again, the weight heavy on his back. Bakugou tugged his arm forward and began chasing the opening of the path, impatient. Kirishima laughed and allowed himself to be tagged along as they began their journey up the steep mountain.

“Let’s hope you don’t die before you get to the top, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou teased, sending Kirishima a smirk as he pulled ahead again. The sun blared behind Bakugou’s head, cascading his features in a vibrant backlight. God, even like this, he looked so beautiful.

“Aww, have a little more faith in me, babe,” Kirishima replied, using slightly more effort to move his body forward. They were just starting and already could Kirishima feel the added weight of each step they took. “You’re going to fucking die, Eijirou,” Bakugou replied, knowing the difficulties of mountain climbing and 100% sure Kirishima wasn’t going to handle it well. Well, at least he’d have something to laugh at. “Guess I’ll have to prove you wrong then! Let’s go!”

Bakugou was right.

Barely a quarter way up the mountain and Kirishima’s legs began to burn. The trees that once seemed to decorate the mountain were getting in his face and he’d have to push them away with a groan. Bakugou seemed to be pulling further and further ahead, and Kirishima’s steps drew sluggish, scraping against the asphalt-like land.

The weight of the pack was starting to take a toll on his muscles now, even though he’d handled heavier. The weight was fine, but it was harder to take another step, harder to move and the top of the mountain seemed so far, too far.

“You losing already, Ei?” Bakugou teased, perfectly navigating up the mountain, hoisting his back upon his back like it weighed nothing, walking along as if the two hours they’d spent walking and hiking never happened. God, he even still managed to look pretty now, with his blond hair pressing to his damp forehead, lips tugged up into a condescending smirk. He ought to be illegal. “I can’t help it, Katsuki. This pack is killing me!” Kirishima replied, grateful at how Bakugou had coincidentally paused so that Kirishima could catch up to him. Funny, wasn’t it? 3 years prior, Bakugou Katsuki wanted no one. Hated everyone. Had one goal--victory. To rise high up beyond imagination, beyond the holds of expectation, beyond the potential of heroes and even further, past the candy-floss clouds and grazing the midnight-blue star-scattered sky. He’d conquer what no one else did and leave them in the dust. He’d rise above on his own. Be #1. Be the best of the best, no doubt about it. And he never intended for that to change. Until he met Kirishima.

When he was at the bottom, alone and lost, he held out a hand with that stupid shark-toothed grin of his. Gave him gentle words that were sugar-sweet and regained his life. Proudly helped him up every time he fell and helped him back on the path to who he wanted to be, even if he knew that he wouldn’t be part of that.

Kirishima was the only one who could do that. The only one who could stand by Bakugou’s side. The only one who could tame his beast of a heart with that gentle smile. It’d always been him. From the very beginning, until now. And now, Bakugou couldn’t see his future without the redhead standing next to him. Squeezing his hand as they got to the top of their journey together. Flashing him that grin that pieced his life back together. Ghosting his addicting lips over his own as the two melted against each other. Building a life side by side, needing each other and only each other, rising to the top together.

Bakugou held out his hand, and Kirishima took it with a grin, the stinging muscles overtaken by the happiness he felt being around Bakugou. Warmth filled Bakugou’s chest before. He’d been mountain climbing before, he’d been camping countless times on end. But now that Kirishima was here with him, it changed everything. Bakugou squeezed Kirishima’s hand, signaling for them to continue walking, and Kirishima complied, moving his other hand to tuck his stray locks behind his ear. Bakugou was used to the burn in his legs as the pressure increased, but he noticed Kirishima struggling and gave him a small smile. And with that one gesture, Kirishima was ok. The mountain that seemed to tower above everyone, above everything without a single care in the world, poised like a volcano about to explode was now in view. Calm. Soft. Taken over by the new feeling that excited him and terrified him beyond what he could ever imagine, but he loved every last moment again. The lone mountain wanting to stand proudly alone.

The falling warrior who constantly helped others. Both a perfect match to each other, a bond that fell deeper than the two could ever imagine. An invisible hold pulling them together. A fire that never ceased burning from the warmth inside their hearts. It spread along their intertwined fingers, then out through their body until they were aflame, alight, and unstoppable. The sun glared, finally revealed from its snug home behind the towering trees as the two finally reached the top of the mountain. The top of their journey. The view was breathtaking. Cruel paths that seemed to extend forever and further were now sandy-cream and smooth, crawling a route throughout the trees. Plush green trees coated the sides of the mountains, some standing tall, some not yet reaching that growth. Some with a head full of brilliant leaves all emerald under the gleaming light, others sprouting gentle blossoms that rested atop your head as spring came, some withered and empty. But they all stood side by side. The sky was periwinkle-purple, merging into a deep marigold of the sunset, the shade tender and gentle, clouds carefully placed among the delicate colour, feather soft as they moved slowly. The looked so close, like Kirishima could reach up his hand and touch it. The land eventually ceased to lead to twinkling aqua waves that caught the sunset sky, rippling colours down the water, a masterpiece before Kirishima’s eyes. “We did it, Katsuki! We reached the top! It’s so beautiful..” Kirishima breathed, but he was wrong. He was missing the most beautiful sight of all as Katsuki gave his hand a final squeeze before closing the gap between them. Atop the tallest mountain, surrounded by climbing trees, 1000 shades of green and embraced in the light of the marigold sky. Fireworks seemed to explode within their chests, their hearts setting a flame over, and over, and over again. Bakugou’s lips were soft, gentle, moving in the same predictable pattern with practiced ease, marveling at the way they perfectly fit together. Kirishima’s lips were smiling, returning each kiss with adoration and enthusiasm, cupping Bakugou’s face to run his hands over his prominent cheekbones, his strong jaw. As they pulled away, Kirishima embraced Bakugou quickly, refilling the warmth between them, and Bakugou let out a content sigh, nosing his face against Kirishima’s nape, up the crook of his neck before planting a gentle kiss on the skin there. Kirishima grinned and repeatedly threaded his hands through Bakugou’s hair, who in return pulled him closer and held him, melted against his chest. The two sat along the prickling, green grass, their hands intertwined, Bakugou's head leaning into Kirishima’s shoulder, perfectly fitting in the crook of his neck like it was meant to be there. Kirishima ran small circles over Bakugou’s hand, and the two appreciated the view. While the rest of the world appreciated the most beautiful one. A new story created, side by side, on top of the world and beyond, together.

#kiribaku #bnha #my writing #bakushima #bnha s3 #bakukiri #bakugou x kirishima

[fordarkisthesuede]

At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 9

*Arrives two days late with Starbucks* ‘Sup, guys! σ( ▼∀▼)σ These past 96 hours have somehow filled me with a weird chaotic energy, and I pumped out the longest roller-coaster of a chapter I’ve ever done in such a short amount of time!!! Thank you, whoever sent all the writing vibes my way!!!! ★>d(,,･ε´-,,)⌒☆ I’m sending out strong vibes to everybody in return! *May you get hit by the writing bug and have the opportunity and energy to completely translate your ideas to printed words!*

Buuut a big note before we get to the good stuff:  I realized too late that the original events of S2 take place in Spring. Like…April. I was writing all of this with the thought that S2 took place in fall; I mean, the characters can wear a leather jacket or a couple of layers comfortably, so I thought “yeah that sounds like early autumn”. Nope! So that means that for this story’s timeline, everything gets shifted into where it should be. On the downside, that means I had to go through and edit all the bits where it said “it was totally spring, you guys”. On the upside… IT’S NOW OCTOBER!!!!! THE SPOOKY SEASON THAT COMPLETELY FITS WITH WHAT’S GOING ON!!! And coincidentally, it’s my favorite time of the year, so I love writing about it even more! I get to add in a thing here and there about the spookiest time of the year, so I’ll have a nice list of what those little changes are uploaded here soon if you don’t feel like re-reading the whole thing. A re-read isn't necessary though, just keep in mind that the humid air of rainy spring in the city is replaced with chilling fronts and even more cloud cover than usual. Why am I bothering with this? Because I’m a stickler for keeping with canon as much as possible and I feel like an absolute fool for not remembering what goddamn time of year it was to begin with. (I mean, I went so far as to download all of TeamFourStar’s play-through because I watched it so often, you think I'd remember to go back and watch the very beginning once in a while…)

Anywho, thank you all again for your continuously loving support!!! 

♡~(ɔ ˘3˘)˘⌣˘ c)

Important Spoiler Tags: drugs (mentioned), swearing, canon-typical violence, electric shocks (mentioned), torture of flowers, flirting, almost an excessive use of emoji, crying, romantic dirty thoughts

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Read on Ao3 or continue below:

Chapter 9:  Grapevines

Bruce Wayne couldn’t remember the last time he’d conducted a meeting from his home office. It wasn’t as if he didn’t use it – the desk surface had hardly any dust settled on it and two empty coffee mugs he’d forgotten about on two different occasions just happened to be stacked behind the monitor – but it felt strange, like a lot of things did lately.

He knew part of the reason for that was watching houses down in the Batcave right now. Knowing he wasn’t alone in the house was comforting, but knowing there were two cops outside the Manor’s front door just waiting for a chance to grab his best friend-cum-houseguest was not, and knowing that they were both close to being thrown in hot water was even less so.

He figured the other reason he felt strange was because he was slipping back into his old habit as if it had never been shelved in the first place. He had time to kill before the video meeting started, so he’d been scouring for information on “Pam”, Jonathan Crane’s ‘old friend’.

There were a few Pamela’s in Gotham, but only one fit within Crane’s age-range and attended Gotham University at about the same time:  Pamela Isley, a forty-four-year-old former botanist with a record that ran the length of his arm. Theft, assault, threats, and attempted poisonings all done in the name of extreme environmentalism and social activism were sprinkled in her history before and after her days as a researcher, and according to GCPD records, she was now suspected of running her own drug-ring under the moniker of ‘Poison Ivy’. (Bruce found several recorded instances of people claiming to be Poison Ivy, most of whom were already arrested.)

Bruce would’ve wondered why on Earth she hadn’t been thrown in prison when she made a bomb-threat at a wealthy businessman several states away nearly a decade ago if he hadn’t seen her mug-shot from back then. At thirty-five, she looked every bit as beautiful as a top-billed Hollywood star, with natural orange-red curls cascading over her pale shoulders and ample bust in chemically-tamed waves, flashing the camera a come-hither stare that made it look like she was trying for a part in a high-budget porn flick rather than standing in front of a height chart for her criminal record. Pamela’s charges were mysteriously swept under the rug.

The latest photo he found of her reminded him a bit of those ‘cougar’ dating ads he’d seen – the older Pamela was blowing a kiss to the camera with a mocking look in her dark green eyes. Bruce glared at it. There was little doubt she was using people to cover for her constantly, and when she was in trouble, she managed to wriggle out of it with her looks.

Not this time. She was friends with Dr. Jonathan Crane, and that meant she wasn’t going to get out of this unharmed. The second his virtual meeting was over, Bruce was heading towards Toxic Acres, and hopefully the wounded Crane would still be there to see Batman’s fist hit his –

Bruce snapped out of his thoughts at the buzz of his phone. A message from the BatComputer…?

I’m bored :/

Bruce blinked down at the screen. John had found the emergency messaging system. Of course he had. He was just grateful that the encryption software on his phone was still up to date. Just what else did John poke his nose into down there…? (There was the chance that John would see files he shouldn’t, but Bruce kept those under a thumbprint encryption. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought.)

Stake-outs are usually pretty boring.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you were down here tho! :)

Bruce hovered his thumb over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. The feeling was kind of mutual, if he was being honest; having another person around on a stakeout would at least keep his mind wandering into the worsts of what-ifs and double-checking every last security issue…

No movement on either houses btw. Been reading Crane’s docs in the meantime but it’s DREADFUL!!! I feel like I’m reading a sleeping pill… =_=

You finish your WE stuff yet?

Meeting’s not for another 20 minutes. Been looking up stuff on Crane’s “friend”.

Oh??? :o Do tell!!!!

Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the enthusiasm.

Pamela Isley, former botanist w/ criminal rec., mostly extreme protest kind of stuff. Good chance she’s the head of a drug-ring that moved here a couple months ago; their leader goes by “Poison Ivy”.

They went to college together, but Pamela moved back here recently.

hMmMmm…. That means no burning the place down if we’re stuck! Bad fumes everywhere xP

Bruce focused on the word “we’re”. He hadn’t been planning on bringing John along. He wanted him safe, at home, where no one had a chance of seeing him and he wasn’t put in harm’s way…

Oh!!! You’ve got a bunch of sticky electro-shockers around - do you mind if I tinker with them? :3c pleeeeaaasssee?

What are you thinking of doing with them?

Making one BIIIIIG shock-bomb, of course! ;D I can wire them together so the shock spreads evenly in the space while it’s discharging.

Bruce reconsidered bringing John. He was still learning to curb his impulses, so being outside in a fighting environment would be a serious gamble, but... Maybe that could be their advantage, too. Bruce made a mental note to go dig out the spare bullet-proof vest from his closet’s secret panel.

You can do that?

I played around with making something like it before, but……well, you know.

Time + supplies for that project were low att. I figured I could always go back to it later anyway.

Bruce felt like his heart had deflated and swelled in such a short time that it hurt.

I mean I’m fine with throwing knives around too but I figured that would be less discrete ¯\_(ツ )_/¯

He’d been thinking of different methods of entering the “house”. Most of them featured a silent slip-in and as little combat as possible, but he knew that there would likely be some muscle around to stop any would-be intruders, and getting a quieter jump on them would certainly be helpful. He would certainly be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed that John had thought that far ahead even back then.

If you think you can get it done within 1.5 hours, then yes.

Ha ha ha with these supplies I can get it done in like 40 mins! >:3 just you watch!!!

Btw have you seen the news?

Not yet. Why?

I was on the morning edition! At least they used a good pic ;D

But also saw a guy getting fished out of the harbor. Your handy-dandy invasion software said he’s a registered Ryde driver.

I told you not to fiddle with that.

Sorry, but I only used it the once! Promise!!!

Bruce sighed through his nostrils.

Besides I thought you’d want to know. Think Crane stole his ride and dumped him by the docks? :v

Probably. I can get the plate from up here to verify. DO NOT TOUCH THAT PROGRAM AGAIN.

Yes sir ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bruce wasn’t sure if that message was supposed to be flirtatious or mocking.

The incoming call from Iman Avesta stopped him from responding. He figured it had to do with John’s escape and the extra security added at Wayne Tower this morning, but why was she calling him now, rather than several hours ago?

“Iman?”

“Hey, Bruce. Hold on a sec – there we go, now we can both -”

“Bruce, what the fuck?” Tiffany asked over the line. “Are you at home right now?”

Bruce almost sighed at the attitude. “Yes, Tiffany, I’m at home, in my office.”

“Uh-huh. I keep getting alerts that your basement’s messaging system is being used. Care to explain that?”

Oh. Of course. He’d forgotten Tiffany had linked her phone to that, too. It’d just…been too long, he supposed. (She couldn’t read them, though, could she? He was fairly sure it didn’t give out mass-texts unless prompted.) “…where are you right now?”

Iman responded instead. “We’re in your second office.”

“…the line’s secure?”

“Of course.” Iman paused, and Bruce knew his new CSO was choosing her words carefully. “I’m guessing you have John Doe in the Batcave?”

“Yes.”

“Bruce, did you fucking break him out?” Tiffany asked with no shortness of impatience.

“I rescued him,” Bruce said firmly. “I know what you’re thinking, and I have a pretty good idea of what you’re going to say, but listen:  I had no choice but to take him with me. One of the doctors working at Arkham has gone rogue – he’d been doing experiments on patients, and I have a feeling he’s going to continue them on civilians. I need to find him before then, and John has been helping me.”

“Helping…? You’re not bringing him in the field with you?” Tiffany said disbelievingly. “After that psychopath almost killed us?”

Bruce could still see Joker running at Tiffany, knife in hand, his psychotic breakdown in full force. He could still see him being smacked against the railing, sheer madness played over his long, bloody face as he desperately fought to stab what was his hero.

But John and Joker were as much the same as Bruce and Batman were, and they were constantly changing.

The Joker in the Batcave wasn’t the same one from Ace Chemicals.  

“I know what John did,” he answered, trying to breathe even as something wanted to hitch in his throat, “and I know how far he’s come since then. I know you both regret-”

“No, I’m not listening to this right now,” Tiffany scowled, her voice fading in the middle her sentence like she was leaving the room. “Talk some sense into him.”

Bruce heard Iman’s voice call after her, and then nothing for a beat.

Iman sighed. “I’ll talk to her. But Bruce,” she started seriously, “Tiffany isn’t the only one worrying about you. Six months can’t possibly cure everything wrong with a man whose spent his life in an asylum.” He could practically hear her chew over her phrasing. “I need to know… If John goes too far – if he shows signs of regressing…or just becoming more volatile – I need to know you’re going to put your foot down.”

“I’m more than capable of handling him, Iman.”

“Please, Bruce, I’d rather not have to pull you off another broken pipe lodged in your kidney.” She paused, and Bruce let her continue, feeling the scar in his side twinge at the painful memory. “I know you care a lot about him,” she resumed in a softer tone, “and I know you trust him. But if you doubt him at any time, you need you to step back and re-evaluate your choices. I don’t want him to regress back into the Joker.”

That was a different Joker, Bruce wanted to say. He knew that wouldn’t sound the way it should. “I promise I won’t let that happen.”

“Good to know,” Iman replied, sounding somewhat relieved. “This doctor you’re hunting – is there anything we can do to help?”

Bruce shot a look at the clock in the corner of his monitor. He didn’t have as much time left as he would’ve liked before his virtual meeting started. “Tiffany can fill you in a bit, I had her help searching Arkham’s records before. Can you run a plate for me? I think Dr. Crane is running with a stolen car; I’ll send you the details in a bit.”

“Sure. We can check traffic cams for it, too, if you’d like.”

“If you would. And the second I have anything concrete on Dr. Crane, I’m sending Tiffany the details – I need her pull as Oracle to get the word out to the GCPD before anything happens. They’ll listen to their number-one informant more than a vigilante coming out of retirement.”

“…you’re…?”

He could almost see the shock in her face. They’d had a short discussion about his alter-ego when he decided to quit the first time; she’d been incredibly understanding about the whole thing. It was almost as if she’d seen it coming.

“Are you sure?”

He was as sure. She didn’t know about the instincts broiling underneath his surface every day. She didn’t know he never really stopped being half of himself. She wouldn’t know or really understand that he just shoved it all down and aside like he did so much else just to get through things. “I don’t have any other options at this point.”

“…you know you can count on us if you need the help.”

“Of course I do.”

“Right. Well, in the meantime we’ll keep the fort over here running as smoothly as possible.”

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Good luck.”

The line went silent, and Bruce pulled his phone away, catching a glimpse of three unread messages.

Sorry, buddy, I was just kidding around, you know? Ha ha

Bruce???

Hello???????

Sorry, had a phone call and couldn’t reply. It’s fine.

Seconds ticked by, and Bruce began changing out of his black t-shirt and into his button-down. It wouldn’t do to appear as a CEO in anything less than a proper suit. He could leave the jeans on, at least.

“Oh! Uh…sorry, Bruce…”

He felt his heart stop for a second. That was definitely John’s voice, even though it crackled slightly from the speakers. The monitor didn’t show anything out of the ordinary. John must have been using the spy-camera feature on the Batcomputer; it was linked to most the devices in the house, and Bruce’s webcam was no exception. He’d almost forgotten it had a loudspeaker function, too.

“I didn’t realize you were…um, changing.”

Bruce glared at the webcam’s lens. “John, what did I tell you about fiddling with the Batcomputer?”

“…sorry. I was worried when you didn’t answer me.”

He sounded genuine, at least. Bruce could easily picture him running upstairs to find him, if there wasn’t a chance he would’ve been seen. “I answered you a minute ago. I was on a call with Iman,” he stated plainly, fixing the buttons on his sleeves.

“…oh, ha ha, there it is! Uh, I guess I’ll just…go, then…”

Bruce almost questioned why John was sounding nervous and distracted, but it wasn’t until he saw the webcam light wink off again that he realized his shirt was wide open, the scars littering his torso half on display from the waist up.

Thankfully, no one was around to see Bruce bury his face in the palm of his hand for a moment, feeling like his face was on fire from first and second-hand embarrassment.

It didn’t last long. Bruce took a few deep breaths as he fixed himself up, and dialed into the meeting with a fixed expression of calm, firmly ignoring the heat that had settled in his stomach that threatened to go lower at the thought that John was bound not to forget any of that.

Driving the Batmobile in full gear again was certainly something else. Bruce felt the weight of the Kevlar body armor press against his limbs as he sped down Gotham’s twisting alley streets, no one any the wiser that the Wayne’s red sports car was hiding Batman behind it. The city’s CCTV signal was scrambled with the flick of a switch as he came into driving distance of the alley’s camera, making him almost untraceable.

He’d given the Honda Accord a head-start; it couldn’t go nearly as fast as the Batmobile, and Bruce had to find a spot to safely change before going to go pick John up from his drop-off point, and the post-working-hours traffic had already gotten its usual early start. It was a slower drive than he’d like it to be, even with Bruce’s shortcuts.

The setting sun was completely obscured by a dark overcast. It made the orange streetlamps glowing over the decorations sitting here and there in windows and doors even more energetic, like every corner of Gotham was slowly growing with the energy of Halloween.

Bruce clicked the communicator in his cowl. “John, are you there yet?”

Silence for a few seconds, and then a rustling noise. “Sorry, I had to take this off for a bit. What?”

“Are you there yet?”

John giggled slightly. “Oh, yeah, I’m here. Just waiting on you, pal.”

He was already at the meeting point? How did he get there so fast? “You put everything back where it was supposed to be?”

“No, I stripped the seats and threw everything into the garbage,” John grumbled with dripping sarcasm. “Of course I did, it’d be rude not to put Jerry’s stuff back. What do you take me for?”

“…I’m just making sure you didn’t forget anything.”

“I didn’t.” There was a loud slurping noise, like the last of a liquid being sucked from a straw.

“John, where are you right now?”

“In the alley, waiting for you.”

“Did you make a stop?”

John giggled, a little louder, but not at all nervous. He was enjoying himself. “What can I say? Going out on the town with you like this makes me thirsty,” he said with a strange purr. “Besides, no one bats an eye at me when I look like this anyway.” He paused. “Well, no, I’ve gotten some eyes on me, but, uh, I think they’re more the appreciative type. I guess ZZ Top was kinda right about the sharp-dresser thing.”

Bruce felt his brows knit together. “You’ve always looked sharp,” he said truthfully, turning down a narrow alley.

“Yeah, but not thousand-dollar-suit sharp. There’s a difference! Plus I think this bullet-proof vest makes me look a little bulkier than I actually am.”

Bruce spotted him leaning against the graffiti-covered wall, a Burger Lord cup in one hand and a plastic orange bag in another. Just how much time did Bruce lose while he was changing?

John tossed the drink in the dumpster and practically jumped into the car, shoving the orange bag behind the driver seat and slamming the door shut as Bruce switched off the communicator. He took one look at Bruce’s questioning glower and gave a nervous sort of grin. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, there’s something in there for you, too.”

Bruce almost asked what, but decided that a lecture on keeping a low profile and not taking money from his house’s various hiding spots would have to wait. (Though he supposed whatever John got wasn’t expensive. He was quite frugal, and it wasn’t as if Bruce couldn’t afford to buy John whatever he wanted anyway.) He concentrated instead on heading down the twisting path towards Toxic Acres. At least the traffic over there was a hell of a lot lighter.

“Hey, when you drove me to the Batcave, did you go in fourth gear, or third?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He just recalled putting his foot to the floor and keeping his eyes on the road, occasionally reaching over to check John’s pulse. “I wasn’t really paying attention to that; I concentrating more on driving as fast as possible.”

“Oh – so you didn’t know you could punch the shift down into third whenever you wanted? It was so fun! I can say I literally punched it out of the Batcave!” He laughed. “I’m guessing you can’t do that in this car?”

“…I’ve got paddle shifters.” They were starting to travel into the more deserted road leading into Toxic Acres. Bruce took a sharp turn onto the hill with the broken Do Not Enter sign, and checking that no one was behind him, flipped the switch to shift the car into armored plates and pressed the wheel-paddle for a lower gear.

They flew down the road with a whirring whine of the engine, John’s notorious excited laugh mixing with it, and Bruce allowed himself to smile a little at it, knowing his own little joyful thrill wouldn’t last very long.

John was soon tapping his fingers together in some kind of rhythm as they passed by more empty houses, Bruce moving a little slower to keep his eyes out for trouble. Sitting close to the river on the outskirts of the city, they were originally meant to be a long neighborhood for the middle and upper class to build their lives, but as the unemployment and crime rates rose, the place became abandoned. It didn’t help that the piping structure to carry water there had been faulty, making either lead poisoning or unfiltered dirty water a prominent problem and giving the section of Gotham its nickname.

“How do we know which place is the botanist’s?” John asked, his green eyes scouring the houses in front of them.

“I sent out another drone earlier for some aerial shots. There’s a place with camouflaged green-houses in the back on Aster Place.”

“Wow, you did that before I left? That was fast…”

“It was a quick job. I’m not picking up the other drone until later.”

They turned the corner onto Aster Place; the road would dead-end in a while, but Bruce knew the house wouldn’t be situated at the end.

“Oh, there’s the spot Jackie got shot at!” John pointed ahead. “I wonder if there’s a bloodstain left…!”

Bruce tightened his grip on the wheel. “We’re close.”

It was oddly quiet out there. There was no other sign of life in what was a hot-spot of criminal hide-outs. Bruce turned on the thermal vision in his cowl; a lot of the houses were actually empty for once.

Except for one. 1801 Aster Place. There were a group of people scattered around on the bottom floor and what appeared to be a lot of heat-lamps running on the top floor. If one of the people in the group wasn’t Pamela Isley, then she might have been holding up in the basement…

They left the Batmobile out of sight down the road, and Bruce and John moved swiftly behind the backs of the houses in the chilly night air, the taser bomb safely in John’s coat pocket; John was surprisingly quiet, only humming a familiar tune here and there. (Wasn’t it the theme from that old spy-thriller…?) Bruce managed to quiet him with a look, and John mimed locking his mouth shut and throwing the key away.

Two unknown people were standing in what used to be a kitchen; three more people were up in the front room of the house. There were no security cameras to be seen.  

“Stick close to me,” Bruce whispered, the modifier in his cowl deepening his voice. “We go in through the back window, take out the two in the kitchen quietly and throw the bomb up front so we can cuff the lot. If none of them are Ms. Isley, we find the basement.”

John gave him a thumbs up, pulling out the riot baton he had hidden away. (Bruce had still not remembered when he or Alfred bought that, but vaguely remembered stashing it in the towel cupboard with some other emergency gear. He wasn’t surprised John found it.)

The bathroom window’s locks weren’t difficult to break. They looked like they had been broken several times already. Bruce slid the insect screen up and slipped in through the thin opening feet-first, twisting his limbs just right to softly land on the floor. He had to help pull John through the rest of the way after he smacked his head on the bottom of the window; thankfully he hadn’t made any noise, but he did give Bruce a strange look as brushed himself off where Bruce had gripped his sides.

Bruce didn’t have time to think about it.

The two people in the kitchen stood in semi-darkness, watching through the patio windows with rifles leaning against the wall. There wasn’t so much a bare bulb to give off light. Bruce figured their eyes might have adjusted to the dark, and signaled John to follow as he crept up behind the two goons.

“I dunno, with all the hype surrounding episode four, you just know those guys are going to mess up somewhere. Remember when they decided to let Celestyne drop to his death back in season one?” The one with dreadlocks asked.

“Oh, come on, that was just to test the game’s limits. Besides, Celestyne couldn’t die; I don’t think Jane can, either,” the second person responded in a higher voice with a casual shrug.

“Dude, you know the game’s gonna make her a villain in the end, though, right? She might die…”

Bruce was ready. John was gripping the baton with a widening grin…

“Are you kidding me? They have her affection meter up so high I’m surprised the game doesn’t have a dating opt-”

Bruce slammed dreadlocked goon’s head into the wall just as the baton crashed down on the other goon’s skull, little smears of blood marking the plaster and paint with a satisfying crack.

John clutched the collar of the goon he’d struck, gripping the slightly bloody baton a little harder in his other hand. He seemed to be thinking.

Bruce took a zip-tie out and cuffed the goon’s hands behind their back, and wondered just what John was staring at until he’d turned the person around and caught a glimpse of them in the light of the window.

They were both women with little tattoos of vines creeping along the back of their necks.

If Bruce guessed right, those were ivy leaves on the vine. Poison Ivy had a loyal gang.

John zip-tied the wrists of the woman he’d struck and patted the part of her head that wasn’t wounded. “Sorry,” he whispered as if she would hear it. “Lauren’s ex,” John mumbled, gesturing to the woman on the floor as if he knew Bruce had raised his eyebrow at him.

Bruce simply swept onward, spying the door for the basement. There was a light on in the front room, and three women who looked like they could be professional boxers of different weight categories were sitting in different areas. One was sharpening a knife at the table, and another was cleaning a semi-automatic rifle as the third kept watch over a monitor showing security camera footage; three looked to be by the greenhouses (Bruce recognized the Foxglove variety growing in one under an opening in the glass, sitting next to something that looked primeval), and two were watching over the plants upstairs (marijuana, by the looks of it) and in the basement.

There was a figure in the last screen, working over a row of potted plants with low lamps. A zoom-in with Bruce’s lenses showed long red hair.

Bruce felt a hand on his shoulder, and John crept ahead him, the taser-bomb in hand: it looked like a mass of the sticky-bombs grouped together, colorful wiring connecting them all like some kind of net, and before Bruce could do or say anything, John threw it into the living room, where it tumbled into the middle of the floor.

The group began to shoot out of their seats in a second, and in the next the ball seemed to expand like a geometric toy, the wired tasers being thrown in the air with a flash before smacking people and surfaces alike as they discharged. All three people fell to the floor in trembling heaps, and John dashed out and started to cuff them, Bruce close behind.

The electric bombs were safe to touch now that they had fully discharged, so Bruce had no qualm about stomping on the lightly-burning sections of carpet underneath some of them to prevent any spread of fire as he pushed them aside. The bulkiest goon wasn’t quite down for the count; she was still conscious.

She yanked John off her fallen comrade by his shoulder and threw him into the table’s edge. Bruce threw a Batarang at her arm just as she was about to punch, and John gave a swift knee to her stomach as she flinched.

She fell to the floor with a louder crash and a grunt, pulling the Batarang out from her arm and letting it drop to the floor. “You fucker…” She said, glaring up at John before looking over at Bruce, her eyes widening as he approached with more Batarangs at the ready. “B-Batman…?”

“Yup! He’s real,” John said playfully before smacking the side of her head with the baton. “And so am I,” he added with a growl. He decided to tie her wrists behind the nearest table leg. “I hate not being able to call myself Joker like this… Really sells it better.”

Bruce felt his heart twitch at the name. “You can call yourself that, if it helps,” Bruce said gently, tying the monitoring-station woman’s wrists together, “Just not to people’s faces.”

“Kinda defeats the point,” John grumbled.

Bruce shot a look at the security monitor – Pamela Isley didn’t seem to have heard anything. Still, precaution should be used. “Let’s go,” he said plainly, sweeping out of the room with a swish of his cape.

John tucked a hand into his pocket and followed.

The basement stairs were carpeted and quiet, but Bruce was careful to walk on the outsides rather than the middle. Spiders had clearly made themselves right at home in the damp corners of the walls, and he had to duck to avoid getting the tips of his cowl’s ears stuck in one of their webs. A soft sort of click was heard behind his back, and Bruce figured John had gotten out his grappling gun.

Pamela Isley was bent over a row of exotic-looking orchids posed under heat lamps, dabbing something into the center of a blue orchid’s petals. Bruce saw several troughs full of hallucinogenic mushrooms sitting on the other side of the wall.

“There you go, my darling,” she cooed in a honeyed voice, acting like she was carefully painting the center of the flower, “You’ll soon be the belle of the ball…”

Bruce eyed the electrical box on the other side of the room. It wouldn’t do to drown the place in darkness; he’d be able to see, but John wouldn’t. The best bet was to tackle and restrain her.

Or…

Bruce took out his own grappling gun, and aimed it at Isley’s collar. One click, and it snagged her shirt with practiced ease.

“What the-?!”

Pamela Isley was suddenly dragged yelping through the air at an angle, smacking hard into one of the tables and spilling several unusual potted flowers to the floor.

Bruce grabbed her and threw her to the concrete floor, standing over her with several Batarangs in his hand as John cackled beside him.

“Jonathan Crane,” Bruce growled out, “Where is he?”

Pamela Isley sat up, shock written all over her face as she processed exactly what happened – it quickly morphed to a steely stare. “Batman,” she said slowly in a sweet voice, “I thought you were an urban legend,” she continued, wiping the corner of her mouth where a dribble of blood leaked out. “Do you always treat a lady this way?”

Bruce dragged her up by her collar and threw her against the wall, keeping her at arm’s length. “I know he bought plants from you today. Tell me where he is.”

“Or what?” She taunted, smirking widely at him. “You think I haven’t been knocked around by men before? I’ve been in whole worlds of hurt, honey.”

There was the distinct sound of the grappling wire rushing through the air, and then an enormous crash – John had taken out one of the mushroom tables, the fungi now breaking and bouncing against the floor it the scattered in the dirt.

“Whoopsie,” John hummed, a wide unnerving grin on his face, “butter-fingers.”

Isley looked rather taken aback, but the expression quickly warped into a mocking glare. “You think destroying my inventory is going to intimidate me?”

John shrugged, leaning back against a table and knocking over a several small tropical plants with a slide of his hand, shattering the clay pots and sending the plants scattering to the hard floor.

That definitely got her attention; her face paled slightly and there was tremble in her. “Stop that!”

Bruce glared at her, mentally thanking John for his quick thinking. “Tell me where Crane is and I’ll consider stopping him from tearing this place apart.”

Her dark green eyes glared at him with a slow-boiling dislike. “Let me go first.”

Bruce did a very quick once-over; she didn’t seem to have a gun holster on her, and she was definitely a lighter build than the rest of her gang. Knives were still a possibility. He decided to let go, keeping a Batarang between his fingers just in case as he stepped just out of her reach.

Pamela dusted off her green turtleneck. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. He bought a few of my flowers and left,” she said, crossing her arms.

John laughed, fingering the leaves of the blue orchid she’d been attending. “With a hole in his shoulder? You didn’t even offer a band-aid for that?”

Pamela was closely eyeing the plant in John’s hand. “What if I did?”

“I know he’s a friend of yours, Isley,” Bruce growled. “You’re the only one who could know what he’s planning.”

“I told you, I don’t know,” she stated, “and I don’t care. I’m not his mother.”

“I can see why you were paying such close attention to this one,” John hummed, fingering the petals with a gloved hand. “It’s so pretty. You put a lot of effort into keeping all these, huh?” He grinned at her, almost looking like his usual self. “It’s not just some financial scheme for you, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Pamela stared at him, trying to keep her voice level; Bruce noticed her eyes kept flicking slightly downward, like she was watching the plant. “I breed and sell rare plants to collectors on the side.”

“Oh good! So this won’t bother you!”

In a swift move, John cut the blossom off the stem with the bowie knife one of the group upstairs had been sharpening.

The blossom fell to the table, and Pamela Isley looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

John picked up the blossom. “Let’s see – she’s honest,” he said playfully, plucking a petal from the stem, “she’s not!” He pulled another.

“STOP IT!” Pamela shrieked, making to rush at him – Bruce pulled her back and pointed the tip of the Batarang at her face. She glanced at it fearfully, but then looked back at the flower being torn apart in John’s hand, and it looked like she was watching a child die before her eyes.

“Stop that,” Bruce instructed; John hummed and held it still. “Talk, or my partner and I crush every plant in this place.”

Isley stared at the flower in John’s hand. “I… I don’t know what he’s planning,” she said quietly, her voice cracking slightly. John only touched the tip of a petal before she spoke again – “But-! But I know… He’s building something. He didn’t say what, but he asked for some muscle - I hooked him up with some of Maroni’s old boys.” She shut her eyes and took a breath before glaring at John like he was a complete monster. “I hope the lot of them tears you limb from limb.”

Bruce forced Isley’s hands behind her back and zip-tied them. “Down on the ground,” he growled, pushing down on the top of her head. John pointed the grappling gun in her face with a smirk; a good insurance if she decided to try and elbow Bruce in the face.

Pamela shot them both a hateful glare as she knelt down, and it didn’t waver as her ankles were tied, too. “I won’t forget this,” she spat.

Bruce sent off a message to Tiffany regarding the coordinates of “Poison Ivy”’s headquarters from his gauntlet. He knew she’d get the word out before he could even get back in the car. “Tell it to the judge,” he taunted, leading the way out of the basement, not missing the sparkle in John’s eyes as he followed, the severed, torn orchid blossom having been carelessly thrown at Pamela Isley’s feet.

John gathered up the sticky bomb device before they hustled back to the Batmobile, and it wasn’t until the doors closed that he spoke, and when he did it was in a tone Bruce would almost call revered.

“So, what do we do now, partner?” He asked, a definite glow on his face.

“We go look at some of the Maroni gang’s old haunts and see if we can find anyone recently hired,” Bruce said, the voice modifier in his cowl now disabled. He glanced at his recent text messages:  one from Tiffany giving the ok on Poison Ivy, and another from Iman with the last known location of the stolen Ryde car. “After we look into the motels in the red-light district. Crane might’ve stayed there.”

John laughed to himself, but for once he didn’t share the joke; instead, he pulled out a packet of jerky from the plastic bag he’d brought along. “I knew this would be a long night,” he said cheerfully, as if he was really looking forward to the whole thing.

It was well past one in the morning when Bruce arrived back home through the front gate, the Batsuit stowed away and the plates flipped back to red. The two patrol officers were only somewhat surprised to see him arrive back. Naturally, they reported nothing new, since John had been dropped off in the Batcave first.

Sore muscles were nothing new to Bruce. The old strained climb back up to his bed was just as annoying as ever. He honestly didn’t feel like he wanted to sleep, but after following several empty leads over the city and bruising a few heads alongside John, he did admit that he was physically exhausted. He knew lying down was better than nothing, and he still had to go to work in several hours like he didn’t have a double life. At least he wasn't starving, thanks to John thinking ahead and buying him protein-and-carb-filled snacks.

He forced himself to go through his usual nightly routine, despite the temptation to just flop into bed and lay there. He looked at the bruises on his back and ribs from where John had struggled against him under the influence of Crane’s drug, and decided not to bother putting the bruise-away cream on them, nor on the new ones forming on his shoulder from where one of the former mobsters had hit him.

When he did finally collapse onto the master bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs, his brain still decided to chat away at him.

There were no leads as to who exactly Isley had hired for Crane. Bruce cursed himself for not trying to work the specifics out of her. At least he knew she was arrested for drug possession and manufacturing, as well as smuggling illegal fauna.

There was no word on the whereabouts of Jackie Lant. Her car was missing, and she’d called into work sick. Her apartment hadn’t been visited in the entire time Bruce had his drone’s eye on it, and neither Tiffany nor Iman had seen anything when they looked into Jackie’s friends’ places, either. All Bruce knew was that she hadn’t called an ambulance to fetch her from Toxic Acres, that she hadn’t been admitted to a hospital, and that there was no sign of her body either in the Acres or in the Gotham River.

She was alive, somewhere, and Bruce didn’t know what she was going to do next. He hoped she was just going to lie low until he caught Crane.

Jonathan Crane was nowhere to be found. His house was still empty. He didn’t seem to be staying at any of the motels – or hotels – around the red-light district or its surrounding streets, and nothing had come of a quick credit-card check. The Ryde driver the GCPD fished out of the River that morning had been shot in the head, and his car was so common that if Crane could’ve switched the license plate with anything and been completely invisible. They’d done a quick search of the warehouse district and found no sign of him there, either.

Bruce had the nagging feeling that he wasn’t going to find Crane until the doctor reared his head.

The billionaire rolled onto his stomach, shoving the anxious thought away as he pressed his cheek further into the plush black jersey pillowcase. There were a couple more places he could check tomorrow…

The bedroom door creaked, and Bruce’s eyes shot open, a second away from grabbing the billy-club under his pillow – he could see John’s messy hair in his dark silhouette.

“Bruce? You awake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“…can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Bruce noticed he closed the door behind him. Like he was planning to stay there.

That definitely put a new light onto the situation. A tense thrill was building in his shoulders as John deigned to sit on the edge of the mattress, his back to Bruce.

John was only wearing his Arkham-regulated pants, and the pale white of his bare skin almost shone in the light streaming in from the window. Bruce saw several bruises forming, one of which was from where he’d gotten grabbed by the shoulder by a Poison Ivy goon, and several more where he’d gotten knocked into.

“…I don’t think I can sleep in that guest room,” John sighed. “I mean, I tried my usual methods of sleep induction, but… It’s too big…and empty. I’m really not used to that.” His voice came out quieter and more contemplative. “I know it’s weird, but do you mind if I sleep in here?” He asked, turning halfway to look right at Bruce.

He felt trapped. If he said no, at the worst John would sulk, and at the best John wouldn’t get any sleep, and that was definitely worse for his mental health. John had mentioned before about how regular sleep cycles were supposed to help with that.

If he said yes, though, he’d know he was sleeping next to John, and there was the tiny worry in the back of his head that John might…try something. Or at least roll over too much.

“I promise I’ll stay over on my side,” John muttered, not tearing his eyes away.

“Alright.”

A sweet smile stretched on his face. “Thanks, Bruce. You won’t regret this.”

“If you keep talking, I might.”

John giggled as he slid beneath the covers on the far side of the bed, flopping one of the extra pillows down between them. “There – a no-roll barrier,” he said as if he had to explain the concept to Bruce.

It did not escape Bruce’s attention that John had decided to lie facing him and rest his arm on top of the pillow. John had pulled the covers up to just underneath his armpits; Bruce could see John's sharp collarbone and the lean wiry muscle of his chest. (Bruce made sure not to look for more than a moment's curiosity would allow.)

God, John’s face was actually his for the first time that whole night. Bruce had gotten used to seeing it in the natural makeup, but it was almost a relief to see it in its normal borderline-luminescent white. He looked like the man Bruce knew.

Acid-green eyes stared at him, flicking slightly and growing soft. “I…did want to talk to you about something, though. If it’s okay.”

“I suppose I’m still awake,” Bruce said in an attempt to lighten the tension in his arms. “Sure.”

“Do you ever…look back on something, and think about the worst thing that could’ve happened in that situation?”

He didn’t like to admit it, but he had. Usually in his worst moods, he’d think about how everything could’ve gone wrong. He’d usually think about everything he could’ve done better, too. “I try not to, but…sometimes, yeah.”

“I’ve been thinking about our fight a lot, lately,” John confessed, “At Ace. I used to think about it a lot when I got recommitted, but… You started visiting me,” he said softly, a light smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You remember when I told you I thought I’d messed things up for us?”

“Yeah.” It was Bruce’s first visit to John. He never forgot the sheer hopeful joy on John’s face upon seeing him. It was practically engraved in his memory.

“Ever since I started sessions with Crane, I kept going back to that night. He always tried to weasel my worst secrets out of me,” he said with a low scowl, “but when he started using that…toxin on me… I kept…thinking about what could have happened back there. I… I know I almost killed you.”

The sheer pain reading in John’s eyes was enough to make Bruce want to wrap his arms around him. It was beautiful and raw and honest, and Bruce found himself holding stock still, almost captivated by the expression.

“I kept seeing it. Over and over – it was like I could see myself throwing you over the railing or-or stabbing you, or...” Bruce saw tears welling up as John clenched the pillow between them. “I don’t want to come close to that again, Bruce,” he managed to say, his voice starting to hitch. “I don’t… I don’t want to kill you.”

Bruce threw his pride away and grabbed John’s hand in his. “You won’t.”

“You…you don’t know that,” John said with a light sob. “If…if I…go back to how I was… If I mess up...”

Bruce squeezed his hand, feeling the soft skin twitch under his fingertips. “I won’t pretend you’re perfect,” he said, honesty seeping through every word, “but I know you, John. I know you’re not going after Crane out of revenge, like you did with Waller. You reached out to me for help – but you were already trying to find a way to stop him without resorting to just stabbing him with the nearest shiv.”

John sniffed, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth like he was almost smiling. “Yeah…”

“So you’re not the same person you were then, are you?” He soothed with a supportive smile. “Even if you feel you are going backward, I know it won’t be to that same point.”

“Maybe…” he said with another sniff, looking more serious. “But Bruce, you know there are things I can’t ever really stop, right? The auditory psychosis is pretty much going to stay with me the rest of my life,” he started, clutching Bruce’s hand back, “and I’m not going to lie here and pretend my pulse wasn’t pounding a mile a minute when we were fighting those mobsters out there.” He sported a small knowing grin at him. “You know what that’s like, though, don’t you…”

(Yes, he did.)

“…you know what’s funny? I used to think one bad day could turn a person completely upside down.” John managed to stroke his thumb against Bruce’s knuckle, sending a little shiver over the skin, and Bruce wondered if John knew how incredibly intimate that gesture felt as he stared softly at him from the pillow. “Especially after Waller came to town… But…I never really thought things could go back up after it. I guess it just…takes a while.”

Bruce knew there was something right in John’s line of thinking. It only took one day to turn his life on its head, and he felt he knew, despite John having no memory of his life before Arkham, that something similar had happened to him. “Well…they say time heals all wounds.”

“How much passed before yours started to heal?”

He almost didn’t want to answer. The truth was that he wasn’t sure at all if he was ever going to fully heal, despite knowing what his parent’s really were. Maybe it was because he knew the terrible truth about them that they wouldn’t ever heal right. Maybe he’d always have that miserable note in the background of his life.

“…I’m still healing.”

“I didn’t say you stopped, buddy,” John chuckled with a knowing look. “Still…got good days and bad days, huh?”

“Feels like it, yeah.” Today…was definitely more of a mixed day. Looking at John across from him, though, all honest and open, and thinking back to how it felt to fight alongside him again, and investigate with him, with that warmth and instant familiar comfort between that never faded away, he almost felt like he wanted to call it a good day. “Today might have tilted things right-side up.”

John laughed, a genuine, humored one that was almost infectious. “Now I know I’m rubbing off on you; that sounds like something I’d say!”

John slipped his hand away and turned to lie on his back, still chuckling to himself. The warmth still burned in Bruce’s palm, and he found himself reluctant to pull his hand away at all.

John turned to him once more, an all-too-familiar affection shimmering brightly in the green depths. It pulled Bruce in and made him feel like he should inch close enough to feel the warmth and security it promised. “’Night, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, John.”

John turned over, leaving Bruce to stare at the bruises forming on his shoulders. There was the terrible temptation in his hands to shove the pillow between them aside and wrap his arm around the man’s middle so he could lean into that pale, battered back and bury his face in a head of soft, green hair.

There was a worse urge, one so vivid it almost made Bruce’s head spin – he could just reach out and touch the bruises, feather-light, and trail his fingertips down the curve of spine until it arched with a pleased shudder, and Bruce could follow that trail with his mouth as far as John would let him.

Bruce turned his head away, the memory of John’s lips on his coming to the front of his mind, and he shut out the mental image of repeating that kiss right then and there, telling himself that he really shouldn’t feel that way towards someone who desperately needed support, nor to his best friend who he’d left scarred in more ways than one, and certainly not someone who was both.

It had been a long time since Bruce shared a bed with someone, and far, far longer when he shared one with someone he didn’t have sex with.

He hoped that was all it was. Just the bed’s memory getting to him, and nothing else…

Notes:  Super-sexy-plant-person-in-her-late-twenties Ivy is OUT. Cougar-aged-mobster-botanist Ivy is IN! >:) 

I really wanted a different Ivy. I’m tired of the young, uber-sexy walking plant-human-hybrid that’s immune to all toxins and diseases; plants get diseases, too, and she’s so plant-like she should have some kind of physical humanizing weakness! It’s much more interesting to have a human who’s just built up an immunity and uses her babies for weapons and business; I kept her serious environmentalist trait, though, because while I dislike the anti-hero thing she’s got going on lately and would love to see her as a straight-up villain again, we do have to relate to her somehow, and her love of nature is always going to be a good part of her. Since Harley’s older, too, I figured it would be alright if they had a ten-year gap between them, so when Pam eventually goes to Black Gate one day, they’ll be pals. ;)

And Bruce you complete fool!!!! You should’ve kissed him!!!  Why do you do this to yourseellllfff? D:

I'm sorry it took so long, but as you can tell, I had a lot to work on, and I’m doing my best to write the next chapter as quickly as I can while this nutty energy in my brain is still fresh. I’m trying to keep with my weekly schedule, but I hope you guys are okay with having a gap day, as appears to be the habit now. ( ._. ) I mean, no one yells at me or anything for being late, but I aim to please with my work, and part of that is being consistent. 

I shall continue to try my hardest! (*｀へ´*) 彡3 See you next weekend!!!

#batjokes #telltale batjokes #juce #atbom #at the brink of midnight #fordarkisthesuede writes #I had a lot of fun coming up with a different ivy! #i like the idea that she heads her own gang despite being rather anti-people #like she doesn't even consider them when the JUCE force shows up #then again goons are rather expendable in the batman universes aren't they? #i can't believe i worked in a nod to TFS's playthroughs of TT bats #i still laugh when i rewatch the first season and they just let Selina drop #all because they were curious to see what would happen #so will ivy's info have an impact on future events? #only time will tell......... #also i'm serious about those writer vibes #i'm sending 'em all out #you'll all do great this week i can feel it #p.s. the ao3 chapters are already edited properly so i'll fix the tumblr ones asap

[thestraggletag]

Still Waters, a May Day Menagerie Fic

Giftee: @little-inkstone

Prompt: Rumbelle + aquatic creature (I chose a Kelpie)

Summary: There’s a horse at the Mills Stables, a bony, pitiful creature with sad eyes Belle cannot help but feel drawn to. Coincidentally she feels the same way about Mr Gold, whose eyes are also melancholic, and the same startling hazel shade.

Rating: M for sex and gore.

AN: Surprise, @little-inkstone! Though you must have figured it out it is I, your... secret Zookeeper! I hope you enjoy this story. The ending fought be like a bitch, but I managed to subdue it. Sorry for the lateness of the delivery!

Tagging @maydaymenagerie for reasons.

Belle knew she was lucky. She was hardly the first person to even have to take up a second job because her first one wasn't enough to pay the bills. At least she loved both her jobs. She had always wanted to be a librarian, had always wanted to work surrounded by books. But she also loved horses, both passions inherited from her mother, so it wasn't hard for her to sacrifice her weekends and her free afternoons to work as a stable hand at the one local stable, owned by Henry Mills. As far as she knew horse-raising wasn't what accounted for the family's lavish lifestyle, but rather an exorbitant hobby, a status symbol. Cora Mills, who rumour had it had come from nothing, was an adept social climber and considered horse-riding something his daughter, Regina, needed to learn to earn her place in society. It also appeared to have the bonus of keeping the girl happy, which in turn made her less likely to fight her mother when she made decisions of her.

Belle wasn't very interested in the details, or in having anything at all to do with the Mills. But the pay was good, her boss, Daniel, was nice, and being near horses again- she hadn't had much contact with horses ever since they'd left Australia- felt good, even if the work was hard and the demands high. Daniel ran a tight ship but was kind and had a real love for the animals, which Belle was grateful for. The horses were well-kept and well-behaved, always closely monitored by the vet, specially the two polo ponies, one American and the other Argentinian. Belle took to both of them immediately, given their gentle nature. She particularly enjoyed braiding their tails before a game, since she felt both horses enjoyed the pampering.

Besides the polo ponies and two show jumpers there was a thoroughbred called Rocinante, a gorgeous chestnut that Regina Mills herself was personally training for dressage, and some older horses kept mostly for breeding. At the back, though, almost hidden away, was a box stall she hadn't noticed at first. It was unkempt, since no one seemed to be in charge of cleaning it, and housed a rather strange horse. Average in size but powerfully built, though too thin to appear healthy. It was black, with the strangest whiskey-coloured eyes she'd ever seen on a horse, and a long, matted mane. He looked close to emaciated but when she took her concerns to Daniel he surprisingly shrugged her off.

"I felt the same when I started out here, and it still doesn't sit well with me that we aren't allowed to care for the horse, but I can guarantee you the bastard's not gonna die. He's looked pretty much that way for years. Hell, I'm not even sure how old it is, but it's probably the oldest horse any of us has ever seen. It's strange, but I don't question it. Mrs Mills takes care of him herself, or so she says. Can't say I've seen her around here much, but the old boy's being kept alive somehow. And he's got enough strength to be a pain in the ass."

The horse had a foul temper, and was prone to acts of malice, though it seemed incongruous to describe a horse's actions in such a way. He wasn't just violent, there was a sort of rationality to his thinking that unnerved her. He wasn't simply destructive or ill-behaved, there was a level of cunning to his actions, something Belle couldn't quite put into words.

And as much as that did terrify her, it wasn't enough to diminish the pity she felt for the creature, malnourished and unloved as he was. He cut a pathetic figure most of the time, listless and isolated, his ribs prominent and most of his neck and muzzle covered by his matted hair. His eyes reflected a sort of sadness that made her think of when she'd lost her mom to cancer and her dad had retreated into himself, unable to cope. It'd damaged their relationship forever and had filled her with a deep-seated loneliness she had never quite managed to shake off. The horse had the same look she'd seen in the mirror often back then, and could still see now, sometimes.

It was that what made her reach out, at first with small bits of food. Though some horses, like the two polo ponies, were under a strict diet, she was allowed to give others small snacks, mostly apples- the Mills had an orchard, which made them plentiful around the stables. She tried at first to tentatively feed the stallion pieces of apple from her hand, but he reared back, often hitting the door of the stall, exactly where she leaned against. Though the floor of his stall was mucky and the straw dirty she had no choice but to drop the apple slices, hoping he'd eat them out of the floor if he refused to do so out of her hand. Though he never touched the red apples the horse did devour the green apple slices, which Belle counted as her first win.

Sometimes the stallion was out of the stables. Daniel told her Mrs Mills would sometimes fetch him early in the morning to let him out for a bit, though he was never out in the paddock. Apparently, due to his hostility, he was taken to some other paddock deep in the Mill's property, where Belle hoped he could at least enjoy some fresh air and graze. The stable was calmer in his absence, most of the horses seeming to relax visibly without him there. They were all docile animals, used to the company of each other and the presence of strange horses when they were taken to competitions or matches. But, for some reason, they were terrified of the old stallion, often cowering in a corner of their stalls whenever he'd pitch a fit for some perceived slight or the other.

It was during one of those quiet days that Belle first saw Mr Gold. She'd heard of him before, both in Storybrooke and around the stable, but even though lots of people had mentioned him to her she soon realised there was little that people actually knew about the man. Everyone spoke about him as if he'd always lived in Storybrooke, but his distinctive Scottish accent indicated he must have moved in at some point, though no one remembered, not even Granny, who'd lived all her life in the small town.

His vague origins added an extra layer of mystery to an already mysterious man. His accent wasn't the only thing to set him apart, his three-piece suits, long hair and cane also helped make him unique amongst the usual small-town dwellers. He was soft-spoken but there was an undercurrent of menace to him, something that made it easy for Belle to believe he was as dangerous as rumour had it. Whenever she saw him it was usually from a distance, Mrs Mills draped around one of his arms in a rather possessive way. He was an impeccable, impenetrable figure next to her, usually sneering, looking supremely bored.

She'd thought he had him all figured out at first. Someone nasty, like Cora was, likely amoral since it was pretty clear he was carrying on with Mrs Mill behind Mr Mills’ back, unfeeling and greedy. He owned most of Storybrooke, including the land the Mills used as their own, and was known for being unforgiving when it came to the rent or his deals. Whenever he was out with Mrs Mills he acted as if everyone was beneath his notice, as if he barely noticed people. What made Belle the most uneasy, though, was how the horses acted around him. If he approached any of their stalls they'd get strangely nervous and fidgety, and if he remained nearby they'd have to be removed, lest they hurt themselves. Belle was a firm believer in horses’ ability to judge character, which added to Mr Gold's dangerous aura.

But almost against her will she began to see another side of him, the more she randomly ran into him. She didn't know exactly when that started happening, but she couldn't say she was particularly displeased. For all his nefarious reputation and shady relationship to her boss Mr Gold was cultured and sharp, with the sort of dark sense of humour she preferred. And he was, for the most part, all bark and no bite, at least with her and specially once she began laughing at his darker remarks.

He was a lonely soul, she soon discovered, which perhaps accounted for why he intrigued her so. She was lonely too, after all, no longer a stranger new to Storybrooke like she'd been years ago but still a bit of an outsider. The horses helped, which meant she quickly got into the habit of taking a book with her to the stables and reading during breaks or once she was off the clock. She'd wander around the forested area surrounding the Mill's property- well, Gold's, apparently- and pick a spot to sit down and read. Mr Gold came across her sporadically, at first, still pristine-looking in his pressed suits and shined shoes even in the middle of the woods, but soon it became a ritual of sorts. Somehow, for whatever reason, she'd bump into Gold at least once a week, but oftentimes more, and they'd trade quips and sometimes talk about the book she was reading.

She discovered Mr Gold was extremely well-versed in classic literature, even obscure titles she had been pretty sure no one else had heard of in boring little Storybrooke. Of modern literature, however, he had no idea, so she got into the habit of loudly telling him when she'd leave a book in the stables instead of taking it home. He'd use a piece of braided leather to mark his spot, a sort of faded strip that seemed ancient and smelt faintly of something water-y. For some reason instinct told her not to tell anyone, to hide away her small interactions with Mr Gold away in the woods, save from the eyes and ears of Mrs Mills. She even made sure to keep her encounters from Daniel, who was, thankfully, a little too distracted with Regina Mills to notice anything.

It was around the time she began to low-key share her books with Gold that she made progress with the stallion, being able to approach his stall without him slamming the door in warning and feeding him apples from the palm of her hand. Up close the horse was even more imposing and pathetic at the same time, with protruding ribs, sunken eyes and what appeared to be a big iron ring on his right back leg. The skin around the ring looked red and angry, and the horse did not completely rest the hoof on the floor, as if it'd pain him to do so. When she mentioned wanting to remove it to Daniel, however, he told her not to bother.

"I took the issue up with Mrs Mills years ago, she told me on no uncertain terms that I was not to remove the ring. Of course, I tried to anyway, thing looks rusted over and like it's causing a considerable amount of pain, but was unable to. Believe me, I tried every which way. Thing just wouldn't budge. Horse seems fine with it, other than the limp, no infections or anything like that, so I just live it alone. I know it feels wrong, but there's nothing you can do."

Cora Mills wasn't a horsewoman. She could barely tolerate the stench and feel of the stables, and didn't go near any of the many horses kept there. Yet she seemed almost obsessed with the old stallion, and guarded him jealously, while at the same time doing little in the way of grooming or caring for it, to the point that oftentimes Belle would spend close to an hour finger-combing the horse's mane, removing brittle pieces of greenery and undoing what felt like ages-old knots. The horse would nuzzle against her hands in gratitude, some spark of something returning to his dull eyes. Whatever Mrs Mills did in the stables at night- Daniel had warned her against working late, telling her it was strictly forbidden- when she was supposed to be taking care of the animal was a mystery to her, because it was plain as day that there was no actual caring taking place, the neglect etched into every visible part of the animal.

That particular mystery was revealed to her one night, when she discovered she'd forgotten her keys back at the Mills’ and rushed to the stables to get them. The employee's changing rooms- Mrs Mills was a stickler for cleanliness and would not allow any of the stable hands anywhere close to her own home- where right next to the stables, which was how she was able to hear the strange thumping sounds. Hoping to be able to catch Mrs Mills actually abusing the stallion, anything concrete that would allow her to get the attention of someone other than the Sheriff's department, that would not take her animal abuse claims seriously- she crept close to the doors of the stable and pried one open just enough to see inside. The moon was full, providing enough light to see into the stables. She noticed right away that one of the wide wooden benches, which were usually kept on the very back, covered by horse blankets and an assortment of grooming supplies and bridles and saddles taken from their perch to be cleaned or delivered back to the tack room at a later time had been moved to the middle of the stables, covered by a bright red horse blanket she'd never seen anyone use, the sort of thing that seemed too luxurious and delicate to throw over an animal. There was someone lying on the bench, stark-naked, arms grasping the sides of it. She recognised the silver-streaked soft brown hair and the crooked nose before she even became aware of the other person in the room, sitting astride the first body, moving in an unmistakable fashion. Even without seeing her face there was no mistaken that auburn-tinted hair, nor those blood-red nails, digging painfully into the skin of the prone figure. It was Cora Mills, completely naked as well, looking like the years had been more than kind to her. It wasn't Mr Mills bellow her, perhaps indulging some fetish or secret pleasure of his wife, but Mr Gold. His eyes were closed, head thrown back and an expression the hovered between disgust and bliss on his usually blank face. He had scratches on his side, blood looking black as it seemed from them, and yet he was making no move to pull Cora's claws away from his exposed flesh, nor did he do anything to stop her as she rode him mercilessly.

She took a couple of steps back, almost forgetting to stay quiet. There was a nauseous sense of betrayal threatening to choke her, though she knew she had no right to it. If there was someone who was deserving of such a feeling was poor Mr Mills, kind as a lamb and likely completely unaware of the sordid little arrangement, tucked into bed thinking his wife might be revising some contracts or perhaps taking a long hot bath. And though she liked Mr Mills, liked his kind eyes, his even kinder words and the affection with which he showered his one and only daughter, Belle couldn't say she felt betrayed in his name. Whatever she was feeling was personal, in a way she had no right to. Underneath it, though, there was something else, a sense of wrongness that had nothing to do with what she might have thought was growing between herself and the older man. Something that disturbed her and she couldn't quite pinpoint how or why.

Cora's shrill cries of pleasure turned her attention almost in spite of herself back to the inside of the stables. Unable to look elsewhere her eyes became glued to Mr Gold's face, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. Finally, he tipped his head back, lips parting to soundlessly whisper something before he came. It was just a small word, five letters that she couldn't even be sure he'd mouthed, but they shocked her into painful awareness, allowing her to silently slip away from the stables and back home as fast as her legs could carry her.

Belle. He's said Belle.

It was inevitable for things to get awkward after that, even after Belle spent an entire weekend trying to rationally convince herself nothing that she had seen was any of her business and she had no right getting offended by Mrs Mills and Mr Gold's extracurricular activities. In a way it confirmed rumours that she'd heard before, so it shouldn't even have shocked her all that much. But in spite of all that she still found herself spending less time reading in the forest, nursing some hurt feelings she wasn't really entitled to. Inevitably Mr Gold noticed and pull back, widening the distance between them that had shrunk so fast the last couple of months. It left Belle feeling petty and miserable, which in turn made her grouchy and less than welcoming.

So, what if Mr Gold had opened up to her about a few things, told her about his favourite spot, a cabin hidden in the woods, next to a river? So, what if he'd told her how it reminded him of the cottage he'd been brought up in, under the loving care of two doting aunts? His confidences didn't really give her right to be jealous or feel betrayed. And at the back of her head something niggled, some sort of revelation she couldn't quite consciously grasp yet and it bothered her. There was a certain sense of urgency attached to it that made her uneasy. The horses, bright and sensitive as they were, could tell, and they became increasingly skittish around her. The old stallion, on the other hand, became quiet and taciturn, reluctant to be tempted by her apples or her offering of pettings.

So, when she had the first dream, she attached it all to her unstable emotional state and the shock of what she'd seen. The dream itself was fussy and unclear at first, mostly the feeling of slippery scales under her fingertips and the sensation of someone smiling against the skin of her hip, pointed teeth scraping her there. But as time passed the dream became more and more defined. She began to hear sounds and see glimpses of colour, flashes of images that finally coalesced into the form of a man, tough not a traditional one. He had skin that shifted from green to grey to gold, scaly in texture, and claws. His face was hidden from her, though she sometimes caught glimpses of his golden eyes in the dark, watching her avidly.

She was always naked in her dreams, though she didn't know she knew that, but it never made her feel vulnerable or defenceless. Sometimes he'd simply watch her from the shadows, though other times he'd pet her hair, sinking his claws into it with obvious relish. And other times he was all over her, teeth and hands and skin groping, biting and sliding against every part of her he could reach. Though somehow, she knew her phantom lover was dangerous she did not fear him in her dreams, not even when he gripped her hips tight, claws sinking into her skin, or when held her arms up above her head in a vicious grip as he fucked her. Far from becoming frightened or submissive her dream self was just as savage, if not more. She bit back, thrashed against him, feeling nothing but sweet triumph whenever she could flip them around and have him beneath her, powerful and feral and completely at her mercy. They didn't have sex as much as rutted like animals, unlike anything she'd ever felt she'd be comfortable with in real life.

Unwilling to see her satisfying yet unsettling new sex dreams as connected in any way, shape or form to whatever she'd stumbled into a few weeks ago at the stables she decided instead that it was just her healthy mind coping with happened to be a very long dry spell. Not that she minded it, really, not when the alternative was subpar. She'd never been able to find small-town men to be much attractive. There was a small-world mentality to them she shied away from, even in men like Sheriff Graham that were pleasing to the eye and genuinely nice. It didn't help that the "genuinely nice men" like the sheriff were rather an exception. Most of the Storybrooke singles scene was dominated by lowlifes like Keith Nott or Arthur Penn or men like Greg Aston, who seemed to be in a committed, long-term relationship with himself. Her mother had always told her that companionship ought to feel better than being alone, and not to settle for less. And Belle was really okay, happy even, to be by herself, at least in comparison to what it'd be like to be paired up in a town like Storybrooke.

But she did get lonely, and needy, which explained the dreams and her quick, instinctual attachment to Mr Gold, as unfortunate and ill-boding as it had been. So reluctantly, but in the spirit of self-improvement and being brave, he allowed Ruby, the town matchmaker, to set her up with a man. And such a charming man he was, with a cute accent, a small build- Belle hated people towering over her- and a scrappy sense of humour. Will was perfect, except he was perfectly in love with his ex, and Belle felt no sexual attraction to him, dangerous looks and arresting accent or not.

Though her blind date turned more into a friendly meeting, complete with a phone call from the ex in the middle of it and later on a happy recounting of how his ex and he had decided to try to make things work, Belle didn't much mind it, happy enough not to have to gently let Will down at the end of the night. She thought nothing more of it until late one afternoon, when Keith cornered her at the end of her shift, while she was putting away the curry combs and dandy brushes she'd used and setting aside the bits of horse tack that needed to be put away. She never quite figured why Keith still worked at the stables. Daniel didn't tolerate him and even Mr Mills appeared to frown upon the man's almost constantly hangover estate. The way she figured out Keith was still gainfully employed mostly because he'd wear wifebeaters and flex his muscles a lot whenever Mrs Mills was around, which apparently made him a qualified stable hand. He was competent whenever his eye-to-hand coordination wasn't impaired but he had no love for the animals, and they in turn had no love for him.

He had mostly kept his distance from her, due in great part to how Daniel tended to always keep an eye on him. But Daniel had left shortly after she'd clocked in, having left to accompany Miss Mills to a dressage event, reason why Rocinante's stall was empty. She'd given it a thorough cleaning, which was why she was late to tidy up and clock out. She hadn't even thought about the possibility that it'd mean she'd be stuck alone with Keith and no one else, but the moment she became aware of it, when Keith came out of nowhere to try and grab her ass, it was too late.

"Thought you were done being a frigid bitch, Belle."

Keith had learned over the years to fake sobriety, but his eyes were bloodshot and his breath, up close and personal, stank of cheap bourbon. She tried to brush him aside and head towards the women's changing rooms, which locked from the inside, but he grabbed her wrist and violently turned her around to face him again.

"I don't have time for this, Keith. Please let go."

She willed her voice not to waver, not to show how scared she was becoming. she visibly flinched at the sound of hooves smashing against a stall door, but Keith paid it no mind.

"What, thought you liked a good English accent. Thought that's what did it for you. It's a good selling point for a lot of ladies, no need to be embarrassed."

He was trying to sound cajoling, seductive, but his posture was more threatening than enticing. Against her better judgement she moved backwards, deeper into the stables. She knew Keith was scared of the old stallion, though he tried to pretend otherwise, and thankfully the old boy was feeling feisty. If she managed to get close enough to the stall Keith might think twice before trying to grab her.

The drink, however, was giving him a false sense of bravado so when the horse again knocked hard on the stall door to almost tear it off its hinges he flinched, but quickly recovered.

"When the time comes I'll drive you to the glue factory myself, you sack of bones."

He banged on the door with an open fist, meaning to scare the animal. The horse, however, moved lightning-fast, managing to get its muzzle in between the bars and bite hard on the hand. Keith howled, so loudly Belle was surprised the sound didn't reach the big house and alert anyone. He tried to yank his hand back but the horse had a tight grip on it, and didn't look like he was going to budge. When she caught sight of the blood dripping onto the floor Belle herself panicked, throwing caution to the wind and reaching out to pet the bridge of the animal's nose, cooing soft nonsense at it until it let go. Keith stumbled out of the stables faster than she would've thought possible and though she knew she should've gone after him, made sure at least that he would get help, she didn't. She was too caught-up staring at the horse's eyes, spying the malicious intent and satisfied smugness there. He was lapping up the blood smeared around his muzzle, as if it was some rare delicacy and as he did so she caught a glimpse of gold. A gold tooth, which she'd never noticed before. One that reminded her of-

Fuck.

She raced out of the room, overwhelmed by a sudden realisation. That niggling feeling on the back of her head, that notion that she'd noticed something significant, something life-changing was back with a vengeance, and against her will her mind went back to that time he'd stumbled across Mrs Mills and Mr Gold having sex in the stables. What she had noticed and somehow erased from her conscious memory was the iron ring around Mr Gold's right ankle, so familiar to her. A ring she'd studied hundreds of times before but not on the businessman's foot, but rather her stallion's right leg.

The horse and Mr Gold were one of the same. It was nonsensical but at the same time it felt like the most obvious and plausible explanation.

For some reason Storybrooke had rather a healthy folklore section at the library, with some of the library's oldest and most valuable books in it, which Belle promptly transferred to her apartment upstairs to pour into them with as much privacy as possible. Her mother had always told her stories and legends about horses, so she had some sort of idea about what she was looking for. It became more about confirming her suspicions than anything else, and by the time she was done and it was almost morning she knew for certain: Cora Mills had trapped a kelpie.

Mr Gold... there was no Mr Gold. He was an illusion, a facade. As was the old horse. The true creature she'd never seen, though she'd caught a glimpse of it the other night, when he'd almost devoured Keith's entire hand. It explained so much, as ridiculous as she knew it sounded: why the horse was never fed but never died, how it seemed to be ancient and far too intelligent for a common animal, why Mr Gold looked so desperately unhappy, why the Mills lived on what was technically his property.

It was out of the question to do nothing once she knew. Belle had been raised to value her independence and free will above all, to be the one to decide her own fate. To have that taken away felt wrong. It didn't matter to her if the kelpie was likely far from a good creature. The legends spoke about a mean-spirited demon, an imp, a trickster that drowned and devoured people, but it didn't make him deserving of enslavement, specially under the hands of someone as naturally-cruel as Mrs Mills.

Though Belle was naturally an impulsive person she forced herself to plan, to ensure she'd be successful in breaking the kelpie out. The trick, of course, had to be in the iron ring. She purchased and practiced using a variety of different tools that might be able to pry it open, determined to think Daniel had just not tried the right thing when he had unknowingly attempted to set the creature free. She also packed a silver cross, which was meant to potentially protect her against the kelpie, should he prove to be ungrateful towards his liberator, or hungry enough to try and take a bite out of her.

The night before she was set to carry out her plan she dreamt of her phantom lover laying her out in a bed of moss and licking and biting every inch of her, driving his cock into her cunt until she felt she had no strength to orgasm anymore. Afterwards, as they laid in a tangle of sweaty limbs, he told her in a sing-songy voice of all the pleasure that still awaited her, all the different ways in which he'd make her climax the following night.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have to free him. Mr Gold. The horse. I have to free him."

Suddenly she was clothed, her pyjamas sticky against her cooling body, and a hand was grabbing her by the throat, chocking her. In front of her she saw Mr Gold, only his eyes were golden and he had seaweed in his hair.

"You foolish child." His accent was so thick she was barely able to understand him. "Don't play around with monsters, dearie, you might not live long enough to regret it."

She'd woken up swearing she could still feel Gold's hand squeezing her neck, but she forced herself to shrug the dream off and continue with the plan. Daniel was accompanying Regina to a show-jumping event far enough to require more than a day's absence- she rather thought it was one of the main reasons Regina was participating in the event at all, given hoe lacklustre she'd been about jumping lately- which meant it was the perfect time to do it. Being the only current female employer meant it was easy to simply hide away in the women's changing room once her shift was up and wait for it to get dark. Once it was fully dark out and she was sure that Mrs Mills wasn't about to indulge in one of her... midnight rides Belle sneaked back into the stabled, hauling her bag of tools towards the last stall, where the horse seemed to strangely be waiting for her. He looked more tired than normal, as if even his usual meagre strength had been siphoned away, but tried to put up a fight once she got to her knees in front of his shackled leg, frantically trying to keep the limb out of her reach.

Through sheer force of will and determination she managed to wrestle the creature into submission, which gave her the opportunity to study the iron ring closely for the first time. It was smooth and not overly thick, but thick enough not to be able to cut away with pliers. There was no lock or hinges, only a crude melted line that seemed to have been hastily and sloppily forged. Hoping it was a weakness in the design she could exploit she made a weak attempt at prying the shackle open by pulling on both sides of the line, hoping to get a feel for it. Instead the whole thing came apart at her hands, the iron ring cracking open like an Easter egg.

"What the-?"

The horse almost fell on top of her, looking as close to death as she'd ever seen him. Whatever compulsions Cora had placed on him where gone, which also meant the full reality of his mistreatment and suffering was exposed. With gentle hands and a patience, she knew they didn't have time for Belle slowly coaxed the creature out of his stall and deep into the forest. He needed fresh water, according to what she'd read, and the river was the best source for it. The river Mr Gold talked about often, with such yearning. It made sense now.

"Come on now, we're just a few feet away now. You've been so brave and we're so close, it's all going to be al-"

It felt like getting stung by some sort of massive insect at first, uncomfortable but not overly painful. It wasn't until she felt her stomach getting wet that she looked down, noticing the blood a second before her body caught up with her and she dropped to the ground, pain exploding around her, making it hard to think. Cora Mills stood a few feet away, gun still raised and pointed where she'd been standing only a second before.

"Rumple, dear, look at yourself. So weak, so pitiful. Come back to me, precious, I'll make it all better."

Her sweet, cooing voice was thick with false concern and syrupy sweetness. A trap, a pretence. Belle moaned and turned her head to the side, noticing with unease that the kelpie was not making a run for the water, as he should, rather taking a few tentative steps towards Cora, suspicious but not completely mistrustful. Cora smiled, lips very red in the moonlight.

"That's it, that's it, my darling. We've had such good times, haven't we? We've... enjoyed each other so much. We're so alike, a true partnership. Come here, darling, surely it wasn't so bad being under my care, receiving my... enthusiastic affections."

He took a step towards her and then another. Belle whimpered as a sense of defeat washed over her, watching as the skeletal horse nuzzled against Cora's carefully-coiffed hair. A second later, however, he was grabbing the thick auburn locks with his teeth and was violently dragging the woman towards the river, acting as though her struggles and screams were of little importance to him. Cora screeched, frantically clawing at her trapped hair, trying to tear it off. Eventually the water drowned her screams and the night turned oddly peaceful.

It was hard to determine how much time passed after that. Belle seemed to blink in and out of existence, her vision becoming more and more unfocused and blurry as time passed and the moon moved across the sky. Eventually she heard splashing and was able to see the kelpie as it emerged from the river, no longer emaciated and dirty, but rather well-fed and with a sheen to his black coat. There was also blood around his muzzle and running down his powerful neck. He approached her slowly, carefully, almost lovingly, nuzzling against her like he had done with Cora. Then he tried attempting to entice her on his back. Belle knew precious little about guns or bullet wounds, but she knew that a shot in the stomach meant a slow, painful death, and that she was unlikely to be rescued at all. In contrast drowning seemed like a much more palatable death. Quicker, for sure. And riding a magical horse, even for a few seconds, was something straight out of her wildest childhood fantasies.

The kelpie felt surprisingly warm to the touch, which made lying on his back and absolute relief to the coldness Belle could not seem to shake off. Not even the low temperature of the water seemed to diminish the sensation, and though she had no strength with which to hold onto the animal she didn't drift away, somehow, nor did her lungs burn from lack of oxygen, as if the laws of nature did not apply to her as long as she rode astride the kelpie, cocooned in whatever magic he was capable of.

At some point they got out of the river, somewhere downstream, deep in the woods. Belle saw an old cottage, vaguely English in design and looking incredibly old, moss and ivy creeping up the stone and wooden walls, threatening to engulf it. It was the cottage Mr Gold had described to her often, the one he'd built in loving memory of the place where he'd grown up back in Scotland, under the care of two lovable spinsters. Cora had kept him away from it, which explained why he talked about it with such yearning.

Once out of the water whatever trick was keeping her astride the kelpie faded, just as it did the last bit of her strength. She fell to the floor with a thud, relieved to feel only a dull sort of pain. A moment later spidery arms where wrapping around her and hoisting her up, claws snagging on her cardigan and jeans. She looked up, her eyes feeling heavy, and saw the blurry shape of her dream lover looking down at her, cooing softly at her in a familiar sort of accent.

A moment later the darkness overtook her and she could hear and see no more.

The first thing she became aware of was that she was lying in a bed of thick, soft moss, a buttery-soft blanket draped on top of her naked body. A fire roared somewhere nearby, she could both hear and feel it. It took her forever to pry her eyelids open but when she did she saw the kelpie right in front of her, peering at her intently. He looked like he had in her dreams, scales and leather covering every bit of him, wide amber eyes and sharp teeth and claws. He had seaweed in his hair as well, and Mr Gold's familiar sharp nose and thin mouth. On a rational level she knew she ought to be scared, not only because of what she'd read kelpies where capable of but because he'd seen him kill in cold blood only a few hours ago.

But even though she tried to will herself to be scared the emotion did not materialise, overridden by a burning sort of curiosity that had her reaching out, the fingertips of her right hand gliding over the smooth scales of the kelpie's face. They were dry but slippery, and oddly warm to the touch, which was unexpected. His eyes, strangely cat-like and a deep molten gold, fluttered close when she slid her fingers into his hair, fascinated by the texture of it.

"You're a wonder."

His words startled her, not just by the strange pitch of his voice but by the words themselves. It seemed incongruous for the straight-out-of-lore creature to call her a wonder, and she must have said something, because he laughed, the sound more akin to a purr.

"Not an ounce of fear in you, pretty thing, can't even smell a hint of wariness. Such light, so sparkly and warm inside you, so exquisitely bold."

One of his clawed hands began playing with the tips of her hair, tugging on it in a way that made her scalp tingle pleasantly.

"Such goodness, to bestow it even on a monster. It's no surprise Cora's nasty iron ring didn't stand a chance."

He tugged her closer using her hair, and though it forced Belle to bend close to him it didn't scare her. He pressed his nose on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, inhaling deeply.

"So sweet. Such a pretty light. Never been so close to something like it. Makes me want to gobble it up."

Even though she was absolutely certain the kelpie had not only killed but also eaten Mrs Mills his apparent desire to devour her did not provoke any sort of revulsion or alarm. If anything, it excited her.

"What- what are you going to do to me?"

The kelpie slowly clawed at the tartan blanket, coaxing it away from her body. She let him, finding it all strangely, reassuringly familiar. She'd dreamed about it countless times, after all.

"Never seen anything so pure. Wanna feast on it, get drunk on it. I'm an old kelpie, sweet one, with vast knowledge and experience. I collect things, rare things, valuable things. Things with power. Things that I feel a connection to. And you, pretty thing? You I aim to keep."

As he spoke to her he coaxed her on her back, peeling the last of the blanket off till she was naked in the firelight. The kelpie's clothes disappeared too, dissolving into thin air in that inexplicable way that happens in dreams and fantasies, though Belle knew for a fact it was neither. This was real, startlingly real, and she needed to think about the ramifications of what she'd do next. A moment later the kelpie's mouth was on hers, and her thoughts grew pleasantly muddled. It felt exactly like it had in her dreams, only more intense. The creature was all sharp edges and skinny limbs, but deceptively strong, easily pinning her to the mossy bed beneath. There was a challenge in the way he overpowered her, a provocative playfulness that made her struggle to gain the upper hand. He seemed delighted by it, nipping at her skin to encourage her to retaliate in kind and practically trembling in pleasure when she scratched him by accident.

It was a strangely-liberating experience, new and exciting and yet familiar and comforting, a primal, well-rehearsed danced they practiced a hundred times before in her dreams, in dozens of different ways. When she finally had him on the floor, legs on either side of his hips, one hand on his long mane of hair, keeping him pliant and obedient beneath her she finally saw a flicker of hesitation in his golden eyes. His expression softened, becoming more open and a clawed hand came to rest on top of her left breast, where her heart beat furiously.

"It's forever, dearie."

There was an unspoken question in his voice. Belle was sure the kelpie himself didn't know what he was asking, whether he'd be able to let her go if she asked. Fortunately for both of them, she didn't want to. She pressed her moth against his softly, gently, marvelling at how it disarmed him completely. It was heady to have such power over a creature as powerful as the kelpie was, but Belle did not allow herself to explore that. Instead she sunk into the kelpie's member, digging her nails into his scalp as her body adjusted to the wonderful sensation of fullness that followed. The kelpie trembled, thrashing and whimpering when a tug on his mane made him still. She began to ride him then, slowly and sweetly at first and harder and faster as her belly tightened and her mind became fussier and fussier. Orgasming felt a bit like reaching the end of a long, hard run, muscles aching, heart racing and a feeling of elation overtaking her. The kelpie curled up around her tight as he came, breathless from the exertion, possessively wrapping his bony arms around her, dragging her down with him as he laid back against the moss, wiggling till he was comfortable. He made a sound of contentment when she dragged the tartan blanket on top of both of them, trapping whatever body heat was leftover. There was a voice nagging on the back of her mind, telling her to take a minute and think about what she was doing, what she ought to do next. But the kelpie was warm and comfy beneath her, and the fire kept the room pleasantly toasty. It was all too easy to push the voice aside and close her eyes, the distant sound of the running river lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #thestraggletag fanfiction #rumbelle may day menagerie

[betweenthetimeandsound]

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#200-191)

#200: Alice Babs -- Lilla stjärna (Sweden 1958)

“Lilla stjärna i det höga, svara mig, svara mig, Kommer han som jag ska få så kär?”

“Little star up above, answer me, answer me, Is he coming, the man that I will love?”

And so we begin the top 200 with an innocent and sweet number, and which resembles the best of 1950s Eurovision. I'm not a fan of the decade, because most of the songs are a bit too old-fashioned for my taste (especially since we have the beginnings of rock-n-roll outside the contest), but Lilla stjarna is one of the better soundtrack-like songs.

Before Sweden became the superpower in Eurovision we all know and love (or love to hate), they debuted with this dainty, beautiful song that was selected internally. There's a sense of longing in the lyrics, with the narrator hoping that their loved one would return. It’s definitely a fairytale, with that classical instrumentation and Alice’s innocent voice.

Personal ranking: 2nd/10 Actual ranking: 4th/10 in Hilversum

#199: Domenico Modugno -- Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu (Italy 1958)

“Penso che un sogno così non ritorni mai più Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu Poi d’improvviso venivo dal vento rapito E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito”

“I think such a dream will never come back I painted my hands and my face blue Then suddenly I was ravished by the wind And I started flying in the infinite sky”

The original classic from Eurovision, and the biggest hit of them all. It topped the Billboard charts in 1959, won two Grammys in the first-ever ceremony in 1959 (and still the only Italian-language song to do so), and is covered and over again to this day.

Considering the lack of attention most of the songs got in the first two contests, it's possible without Nel blu dipinto di blu's commercial success, we wouldn't have a Eurovision Song Contest to speak of. Or it would've been done for by 1960, haha.

Sometimes, I forget about this song when thinking about favorites, but when I listen to the intro, it starts bringing you into its little world, where I’m actually flying! The lyrics are quite cool and imaginative, adding to that feeling.

And of course, that "Volare..." is enough to keep people singing along!

Personal ranking: 1st/10 Actual ranking: 3rd/10 in Hilversum #Italywasrobbed

#198: Korni -- Moja Generacjia (Yugoslavia 1974)

“Mene majka moja rodi da sanjam o slobodi, U prvoj noći da čujem zveket, Da plačem sa rukom na usnama,”

“My mother gave me life to dream of freedom, The first night to hear gun sounds To cry with my hand on my lips”

World War II in Yugoslavia is not something I've learned about in depth. What I do know is that the Axis powers were able to take the whole country, and two major groups arose to collaborate with them. The Ustashas (Croatian nationalists) and Chetniks (Serbian nationalists) also both sought to destroy the other ethnic group and there was a bit of a mess all around.

(If you have any more information on this topic, let me know as I do want to learn)

Moja Generacija is a harrowing but powerful progressive rock song about those born during the Second World War, and their lives as a whole. I like the dark soundscape along with the instruments that accompanied it too. The orchestration at the chorus is especially noteworthy, because of the sweeping strings and the brass which highlight the times as a whole.

(And apparently, there's a seven-minute English-language cut, which makes it even more of a progressive rock song.)

Personal ranking: 3rd/17 Actual ranking: 12th/17 in Brighton

#197: Shiri Maimon -- HaSheket Shenishar (Israel 2005)

המבט אחר והקור חודר אתה מסתתר, את גופי שובר

“The glance is different and the cold is piercing You’re hiding, breaking my body”

Israel in the 2000s wasn't the best song-wise. I can only think of two songs that were really good in that period--of which this was one of them, which held Israel's best placing this century until Toy won three years ago. And it couldn't be anymore different from the song Israel would eventually win with.

Initially, I didn't get it, as it felt a bit derivative. Even now, it has offgrown me a bit because of pop ballad structure. But what I really liked was the smooth transition between Hebrew and English, along with how well Shiri sings it. She has a really sweet tone to her voice, which really helps in conveying the sorrow of being in love with a cheating partner and having to let go of it for her own happiness.

And that dress--it has to be one of my favorite performance outfits of all time!

Personal ranking: 4th/39 Actual ranking: 4th/24 GF in Kyiv

#196: Inga and Anush -- Jan Jan (Armenia 2009)

“Can't ya see, we aren't free?, Fixed like a tree to the holy ground, With my sound, gotta be always around, I wanna dance, don't ya stand, sister give your hand,”

"Sister, here we go!"

For a dance song, it's actually quite sedate--there isn't many moments of true boppiness, but there was something more "psychadelic" about the production and how it was put together. Either way, it works well all the same.

The sisters do a good job singing together, and I like the mix of ethno and dance music. Plus, their costumes are absolutely expensive and glamourous--I would like to wear them if I ever got the chance.

Also, for some reason, Azeris like to spam the comments on this song and claim that the Armenians "stole" their traditional clothing and music. Considering the two countries' proximity, I'm not so shocked about their similarities, but if Azeris would like to share a bit more of their ethnic music, it's always welcome!

Personal ranking: 8th/42 Actual ranking: 10th/25 GF in Moscow

#195: Sabina Babayeva -- When the Music Dies (Azerbaijan 2012)

“You, you are the best of me The reason that I believe, so don't leave me now...”

(Yes, Azerbaijan can send ethnic-influenced music. Hehe.)

Azerbaijan’s host entry when they brought the contest to Baku is a bit of a standard ballad, but with an ethnic twist. The use of balaban really highlights the melancholy of the song, and the mughum vocals pierces one's soul when performed.

I could feel how Sabina sings every word, pleading with her lover to stay with her despite it all. And that doesn’t begin to add with the beautiful LED dress, adding to the drama of the song as we see it in white, but it gets overlaid with sparks, shades of turquoise, and its final form with reds and oranges. That was a particularly beautiful moment.

A lot of fans believe this was the song that should've won it for Azerbaijan, and I can't disagree! This is a gem indeed.

Personal ranking: 6th/42 (a bit awkward here because I left out my runner-up of 2012 in this ranking, so amongst the songs here it's 5th/42) Actual ranking: 4th/26 GF in Baku

#194: Milestones -- Falter im Wind (Austria 1972)

“Tanz um die Lichter, Schmetterling, Deine Farben flammen auf, Tot ist die Nacht, in deinem Tanz, Ist das Leben hell wie Tag”,

“Dance around the lights, butterfly Your colours flame up The night is dead, in your dance Life is bright like the day”

My first forays on pre-1990s Eurovision was with the British blog, Lovelovepeacepeace. She would recap every year between 1968 and 2000, and 1972 was one of the years I went through the songs because of her. Coincidentally, I got to like Falter im Wind as much as she does.

It definitely fits with the hippy era, in terms of folk music and the general aesthetic. There's even a prominent (weird little) flute motif throughout. The lyrics talk about the life or a butterfly and how it shouldn't go to far into the sun. A bit strange, considering what most other songs are about, but it's a nice and gentle sentiment (with a message not unlike that of "Waterfalls", how strange).

Austria is not usually known for their highlights, but this is definitely one of their best (and a personal favorite of mine). Feel free to go an a road-trip playing this (though not with the studio cut--that's a bit slower)!

Personal ranking: 1st/18 Actual ranking: 5th/18 in Edinburgh

#193: Roger Bens -- Femme dans ses rêves aussi (France 1985)

“Mélodie, mélodrame, sourire et puis larmes Amoureuse ou sans âme, elle est d’abord femme...”

“Melody, melodrama, smile and then tears In love or without soul, first of all she’s woman”

ESC 1985 is notable not only because of a certain ripped-skirt incident, but also because they have a live album with the first eleven songs of the contest. Among these is the French entry, which has one of the best orchestrations of all-time, thanks to Michel Bernholc's arrangemnt.

(And because of that, it is my most-listened to song on Spotify)

The violins primarily make this song what it is—there are synths in the studio track, but don’t pack the same punch. The bass really provides some depth, and the brass at the bridge really sells the whole thing home.

The sense of drama in the song also includes the lyrics about being a woman and embracing her in all the ways. Despite the occasional eyebrow-raising and lip licking, Roger sings this with gusto.

To add to this, where is Roger Bens? This was the last known sighting of him and he is presumed to be dead.

Personal ranking: 3rd/19 Actual ranking: 10th/19 in Gothenburg

#192: Nina Zilli -- L'Amore È Femmina (Out Of Love) (Italy 2012)

“If you were my king, would I be your queen?, Stop breaking up my heart, you kill me – boom boom boom”

No, she's not Amy Winehouse resurrected for one night, but Nina Zilli! She also competed in Sanremo that year, and Emma (see #223) won it with the harsh but determined "Non è l'inferno".

Beyond the retro music and Nina's bouffant on the night, I didn't notice any similarities to Amy Winehouse. This doesn't mean "L'amore e femmina" have its own charms--it falls into the jazz theme that "Madness of Love" (#232) continues, but is the opposite in more than one way.

The English-Italian mix is a but clunky at times, especially in the choruses but it doesn’t take away from the attitude this song brings. I love the jazzy vibes and how Nina sings it with a sense of sassiness and charm. Her backing vocalists really help with conveying the mood, and don't do a bad job when the song goes back to Italian!

(As for the two Sanremo songs in question, I prefer Non è l'inferno to Per Sempre--the former is quite determined, and I really like the lyrics. Though I think the latter would have more appeal in terms of themes, even it's a bit more derivative musically)

Personal ranking: 5th/42 Actual ranking: 9th/26 GF in Baku

#191: Hovi Star -- Made of Stars (Israel 2016)

“Dance with me like we are made of stars...”

This is one of the first songs which got me into Eurovision. I would put this on repeat over and over again, because it's just so beautiful. (Or it was because it's Israeli, haha. Another country bias of mine will appear later.)

The first version of Made of Stars was a trashy and dull dance song, but the rework into a ballad makes it more magical. It’s serene yet touching, with a calming piano motif and a dramatic crescendo at the end.

The staging of Made of Stars also helps; while I'm still put off by the LED face when the backing vocalists sing "you hypontize me", everything else just works. The otherwise starry LEDs, the hoop dancers, and Hovi's glowing presence make this into a sweet, albeit overlooked package.

Personal ranking: 6th/42 Actual ranking: 14th/26 GF in Stockholm

#esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc sweden #esc italy #esc yugoslavia #esc israel #esc armenia #esc azerbaijan #esc austria #esc france #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

[persephonesgossip-blog]

fondue for the mudracker

A New Beginning

Yo and Hello from JBI and Brittany Pierce, here to bring you the hottest gossip and introduce our newest speciality.  Minus the cheese, there’s a total lack of cheese, we’re working on it.

We all love The Sirens and Divine Influence, obviously - who doesn’t? And since some of us can’t see the tour live RIP all you broke fangirls and tiny children, we wanna make sure you get to see all the drama. So welcome to our new blog for all the ladies on Persephone’s Tour. As The L-Word taught us, too many ladies all together is gonna bring some MAJOR drama. And lady loin tingles.

Speaking of that specific l-word, let’s start out with the only one who’s officially used that word - little Miss Kat Hummel...

Of course we’re all major fans of Kat’s Korner (maybe not all of us?) and we’re stoked for her upcoming fashion line, but is that all we want from her? Of course not! We want her to be rocking with The Sirens 24/7! But is that what Kat wants? The answer is maybe a yes. Rumor has it that Kat is going to drop out of the band to focus on her fashion endeavors. Probably because her socialblade suggests that reviewing shoes and bringing Marley on here and there can only give her so much ad rev. She lacks cheese, I’m telling you, cheese and cats = YouTube success.

She might also just be tiring of certain members of the band. “Members” being used very lightly. Her stepsister, Fiona Hudson, is playing drums for The Sirens, who don’t have their own drummer, on tour. Obviously they’ve used drummers before, and Kat seemed friendly enough with other replacement drummers...but have you noticed how little she mentions Fiona on social media? How Fiona is the only Siren-of-sorts who hasn’t appeared in a Kat’s Korner video? The two don’t seem very close at all. Could family tensions force her to leave? Maybe so, especially since both Marley and Norah could easily take over keyboard and possibly bass when needed. Spoiler alert, Fiona’s height probs makes Kat feel too tiny since she wants to be the biggest thing in the band. Too bad Mad Marls has that covered.

Kat leaving, as mentioned, would let her focus on her well-known first love, fashion. We also assume that means she could focus on her girlfriend, Kitty Wilde of #KittyKat fame. Oh, sorry, we mean “friend”. Friends don’t invite friends to do the couple tag on YouTube, just saying. Obviously. After all, Kitty should have time with her fellow feline-named female once Rachel Berry goes on Broadway, a gig she has lined up right after the tour ends. We all know Rachel loves Broadway and majored in musical theater at UCLA, so will she choose to stay on stage? And, if she doesn’t, can her band really recover from a Broadway hiatus? I hate her.

Kitty, while “close friends” with Kat, has also openly called Rachel her best friend, as the two have known each other almost their entire lives. Kitty only pretends to be in the God Squad so she can convince people she has a soul. It seems rather interesting that Kitty would be so close to the two people who are rumored to be leaving. Is it something she did? Maybe she wants more time with Kat - or maybe she wants to start and empire of her own, and had to recruit Kat to help her start a fashion/make-up/social media fame platform. We’ve noticed how her follower number has grown exponentially since #KittyKat vlogs started, and we wouldn’t be surprised if all of that success went into her little blonde head. Kitty is just a knock off version of Quinn and knock offs always fall apart.

Regardless, we wish Rachel luck on Broadway (no), but not enough luck that she’ll actually get recognized for her work. If she does a good enough job she could get a Tony nomination, which will lead to more job offers, and that might just be the end of Divine Influence... Tony should keep his award and Rachel should keep being horrible somewhere I don’t have to see it anymore.

...Unless someone takes over for Rachel. Lead singers do have a history of being replaced - we’re looking at you, Van Halen, Fleetwood Mac, etc. - but could Divine Influence be doing the same thing? Blair Anderson speaking of, who even IS Blair?????, a back-up singer/dancer on the tour, also studied musical theater at UCLA, and she obviously knew Rachel. There’s even evidence of her being friends with the other members of the band. Sabrina Smythe, the manager of both bands on Pesephone’s Tour, has said their back-up singers have been working hard and well with the bands, She even made special note that Blair could have a solo during the encore which is a shame because Santana Lopez should totally get to sing, and it doesn’t take much searching to find out that Blair has made a demo herself. Is this tour going to be her audition to take over Rachel’s spot? And, more importantly, would we care about the band anymore if Rachel’s not a part of it? Hmm. We just don’t know. Wait... we care about the band right now??

What else we don’t know? Why are there back-up dancers in the first place? Jackie Williams made a smash in Divine Influence’s “Hey Beautiful Angel” music video, but was it enough that they really decided to add dancers to the tour? Back-up singers, sure, which Jackie also doing, but it’s oddly coincidental they managed to book her months afterwards, right? Sabrina announced the search for other back-up for the tour shortly after the video debuted, and Jackie was a part of the search team. Something about that seems rather off, don’t you think? Sad pandas unite for me not making it on the tour. I dance way better and am way hotter and have bigger boobs. So.

Speaking of Sabrina Smythe, have you ever wondered if there was another “S” that needed to slip into her name? Perhaps Sabrina Stripper Smythe? A blind item on twitter claims that some tour member has a stripper past, and wouldn’t that just fit the narrative of the Spoiled Smythe? After all, her best friend, Santana Lopez, is known for taking her clothes off, so we can’t help but wonder if she was influenced by her. She’s also the only member of her family to not have a law degree, and we could see a stripper past causing that problem. I’d pay to see that... just saying.

Another degree-less member? Sam Evans. As in, not even a college degree, or even an attempt at college, like Fiona. It’s rather sad, actually. We don’t know much about her past between Kentucky, dyslexia, and moving to LA. Is she hiding some dark past? THIS IS RUDE college is hard :( and Sam is pretty, pretty people don’t need to go to college. Maybe SHE was the stripper.

Eh. Seems unlikely with how innocent of a country bumpkin she is, but we’re keeping our eyes on her. When your past is full of so many blank spots, we can assume you’re hiding something

Then again, do we know anything about Quinn Fabray? Well, about her past? She was friends of some sort with Santana in college, as evidenced by Santana’s old picture of her with pink hair all the way back from their freshman year. Along with the pink hair, there are some now gone piercings and a punk vibe that we didn’t expect.

We also know that Quinn’s real name is “Lucy”, but why did she change it? Could that mean - NEVERMIND QUINN’S THE STRIPPER

And, lastly, let’s get into our beloved Puckerose, both of whom may not be hiding so much anymore...

Norah Puckerman and Marley Rose have been the fan favorite ship of the band since day one. Over time, the ship has grown from fan speculation to fans just knowing it’s true. All the posts about each other, the duets, the songs they’ve written together, and now they live together? Please! Even non-fringe fans are starting to assume they’re dating. I’d date them, too. I’d also date Norah’s new boyfriend, he’s hot.

Which is why we are very distressed to report images of our beloved Puckster with a man. The two seem to be enjoying time in New York City and are all smiles.

While we all just assume Norah’s bi and, yes, we would be okay with her dating guys, we gotta ask...um, what the fuck??

Norah has mentioned an affinity for older men in the past, but this old? Um...what? Originally we dismissed the photos, since there wasn’t much to them and she could’ve just ran into someone on the street who was trying to talk to her. She’s pleasant to strangers...well, sometimes.

But now the two have been spotted together a couple of times, and we think that could be a sign it’s a real thing. One brave TMZ-er got footage of the two of them at dinner before the man - her boyfriend? - asking her to leave them alone while Norah just sat there politely. Norah being a quiet, good girl?? He looks old, maybe she has a bigger daddy kink than Kitty does for Jesus?

We’re kinkshaming this relationship - am I using that term correctly? Whatever, this whole thing is weird!

Of course, maybe it’s in response to Marley’s obvious beard - oh, oops, “boyfriend” - Ryder Lynn. Marley must be good at shaving, she should shave her boyfriends head, too.

Totally cute and believable - if we pretended Puckerose wasn’t living together - right? Except...where the fuck is this guy? We never see him around. Maybe he’s a robot, they’re good at hiding.

And you’d particularly think he’d want to be around after the events of the day. The OG Sirens had a group interview today, and, as soon as it ended, Marley fainted. She was quickly revived and had plenty of water but was rushed away before any questions could be asked. Marley even declined to be on Fondue for Two which totally means she either hates cheese or isn’t eating at all...because we all know she’d love to come pet my pussy’s. Sabrina and Santana put out a message that Marley was simply dehydrated and tired from all the rehearsals, but, come on, we all know “dehydration” and “exhaustion” are code words for drugs - I bet Norah gave her drugs - and mental health issues. So, what’s Miss Rose hiding besides her relationship with her favorite guitarist? Or is the stress of headlining a major tour while her bestie for the restie, Kat, is planning on leaving too much for her?

Well...we’ll have to wait and see.

#ptgossip #jbi #bp #a new beginning #all #ba #rb #se #qf #fh #kh #sl #jp #np #mr #ss #kw

[alilybit]

Steam Scam Documentation

improved readability + table of contents on my website: https://phal.io/hackers/stean (free easter egg included!)

——————————————————————————————

TLDR – What To Do

Prevention

- Never sign in using Steam anywhere unless it’s a well known site that you navigated to yourself, preferably by manually typing the URL into your browser and saving that URL as a bookmark for later, NEVER sign in on links others sent you, even your significant other whom you would trust with your life because their account could be hijacked or they don’t know they’re sharing a malicious link

- Optionally send the link to an internationally approved computer expert you trust (me?)

- When you confirm trades in the app, always double check both trade contents AND the person you’re trading with (level, friend date) because hackers can automatically replace outgoing and incoming trade offers to go to a different account with the same name and pfp as your original trade partner

When It’s Too Late

- Warn your friends not to click on any link that might be sent on your behalf, check active chats for messages you didn’t send, send/tell them this

- Change your password (if you use your Steam password elsewhere, change those as well, you should be using unique passwords and a secure open source password manager like KeePassXC)

- Log out all sessions in the Steam desktop client by clicking on your name in the top right corner next to notifications and navigating to account details -> account security - manage Steam guard -> deauthorize all other devices

- Open https://steamcommunity.com/dev/apikey in your browser (if you don’t trust my link, which you shouldn’t, simply find out if steamcommunity dot com is the real domain for Steam and then manually type the complete link into your browser), revoke any API key there is if you haven’t created them or don’t know what they are, if you did make them replace them

- Optionally report the link at https://safebrowsing.google.com/safebrowsing/report_phish/?hl=en to make all common web browsers display a warning before loading the malicious site

(Source + further info: https://forums.steamrep.com/pages/hijacking/)

When a Friend Sends You a Malicious Link or Acts Suspiciously

- Try to contact them somewhere outside of Steam and send/tell them this to save their account and to prevent the hijack from spreading further through their friends list

- Warn their friends

Pro Tip

The interwebs are full of malicious links/downloads, even/especially search engine results. To make sure you get the proper installer for programmes/the proper link to log into/purchase something, ALWAYS use the Wikipedia Technique™:

- Open wikipedia.org

- Search for the programme/site/shop/whatever

- Look for the website link either on the right in the summary box or by navigating to the external links section at the bottom

——————————————————————————————

I will now describe and show how a friend of mine had their account hijacked. I’ll also keep adding other forms of scam attempts to this post/site as I come across them so you can look at examples and be prepared for when it happens to you.

——————————————————————————————

Incident 1 – Can You Vote for My Team?

It was the night before my first vaccination. I was still doing something on my PC, I don’t remember what, even though it was past bedtime, when I got a message from a Steam friend. I’ll call them Ingeborg. My brother, Ingeborg and I had met a month earlier on a TF2 rocket jump server and we added each other. We played together a couple more times but beside that I didn’t know Ingeborg that well. You can see the chat from that day in the images below.

The first cropped message from Ingeborg at the top is “hey u free rn?” or something. I assumed they just wanted to ask about playing a game of TF2 with me, as it has happened before. When they dropped the question about voting for their team and getting keys in return, I didn’t know what to make of it. I didn’t know of any competitive team they were in and I also didn’t know Ingeborg well or that alleged tournament at all. It also didn’t seem like they could just throw expensive keys around. I took some time to process the information and to think about what I should reply, but Ingeborg didn’t leave me much time to think, following up with “?” and “u here”. So I asked, feeling stupid for not knowing what they’re talking about.

Then, they also set a time limit of less than 30 minutes and kept asking why I’m not immediately replying or “voting”. I have to admit, I nearly fell for it. I want to help people and I can’t think clearly under pressure, especially when it involves other people. And, for the Permanent Record, I of course wouldn’t have taken anything in return for helping a friend. I wanted to tell them that but they didn’t even give me the time to type that. I had already put my name and password in the form, after a lot of thinking, but something prevented me from pressing enter, it just didn’t feel right. I had even briefly searched the web for that tournament and didn’t really find anything. But what finally made me realise that there is something wrong and what made me think clearly again was the border and title bar of that alleged pop-up window. (Edit: Thanks for 1 likes. I compared genuinely signing in through Steam on scrap.tf and it did not open a pop-up window, it simply completely sent me to steamcommunity.com. I guess that means pop-up Steam sign ins are always fake.) I already tried clicking on the HTTPS information earlier which didn’t work for some reason but which still didn’t make me 100 % realise that this is a fake site. Until I noticed that the title bar is a Windows 10 default light theme title bar. I’m on Linux and I use dark themes, the title bar should look completely different. I tried moving the window around and it moved choppily and I could only move it within the Firefox window. I checked the source code and it was true: It was merely an iframe within the site that contained a fake Steam login form from a different URL that’s not steamcommunity.com. This is the site in the iframe:

As you can see, it’s the Steam login form, but the address at the top is not a Steam address. I took a look at its source code and found that it was a lot longer than the original and also contained a lot of dialogue lines about removing the Steam mobile authenticator. This apparently didn’t come up when actually putting in password and username, but you should look out for fake sites telling you to remove your authenticator, they could get complete access to your account that way.

I confronted Ingeborg with this and they stopped replying. But they didn’t immediately remove me from their friends list, like that one time I was actually scammed. I wasn’t sure what to do now. Was Ingeborg really a scammer? Was everything we did together so far just to gain my trust to scam me? Like that one time I was actually scammed? The funny thing is that out conversation before this was about scammers. Some usual random scammer put a usual comment on my profile and Ingeborg warned me. But I believe in the good in everyone and I didn’t want to just assume they were a scammer without making absolutely sure. I thought about what else I knew about Ingeborg. They gifted my brother some items because he barely has any. They invited me to their Steam group. They subscribed to me on YouTube and put my channel on their home tab. Coincidentally, earlier that same day, I also took some time to take a look at their YouTube channel and subscribed. So I thought that me subscribing to them was the sign they were waiting for, signalling that I trusted them enough to fall for the scam. I checked their channel and I was still on their home tab and subscriptions. I checked their Steam group and was still a member. This convinced me that there really is a possibility that this wasn’t actually Ingeborg trying to scam be but that they’ve also been phished and someone else is now trying to also gain access to their friends’s’s accounts.

Ingeborg’s friends list and profile comments were now set to private, so I couldn’t comment or directly message their friends to warn them. But there was the Steam group. One other member was online, one with a Pokémon profile picture and I believe I also remembered noticing them on Ingeborg’s friends list because of the Pokémon theme. So I put a comment in the group and added the Pokémon person, who unfortunately had their comments disabled as well, so I put an explanatory message into my profile to let them know why I’m adding them. I warned them and asked them to tell Ingeborg that someone has access to their account, should they know Ingeborg better than me. On YouTube, Ingeborg had their Discord name listed. I tried to add them but friend requests were disabled. There was also an Instagram name. I technically don’t have Instagram but I made a test account a while ago to test a YouTube scam comment with a link to an alleged Instagram password hacking site. I logged in with that account, changed my profile picture to my real one, added an explanation to the bio and added Ingeborg. But they didn’t react. So I wrote a comment on a YouTube video. I think it took three attempts for the comment to pass the automatic spam filter. It could of course also have been Ingeborg deleting my comments exposing them for being a scammer. But the third castle stayed up. And a while later, they actually responded. I then tried to tell them to add me on Discord, that also took many attempts and extremely careful wording to get through. Not even my Discord tag with numbers spelled out and 1447 speak, as Jeremy 900 800 500 would say, went through, but a carefully camouflaged link to my website did. By then, they also messaged me on Steam, asking for help and asking me to temporarily take their valuable items to secure them. I told them to add me on Discord so I know it’s actually them I’m chatting with. As it turned out later, it was really good that they didn’t trade me their stuff.

Apparently, Ingeborg wasn’t home at the time and only had access to their phone. And they allegedly fell for the exact same scam a day before. The obvious first thing that had to be done was changing the Steam password. But it seems that the password can’t be changed in the app itself. So I had the idea that Ingeborg could log into Steam on their phone’s web browser and change the password there, which worked. We kept chatting and I kept researching. I still wasn’t sure if this was still part of Ingeborg’s ingenious plan to regain my trust to scam me again, but I believed in them. Eventually Ingeborg got home, and I stayed awake gladly until 3:47 in the morning, I… I sang as time went off. Because as long as menly men like me are prepared to give their time, a flower grows. And that flower, that small, fragile, delicate yellow flower, shall burst forth and defeat interwebs criminals. On the “next” day, the vaccine had a side effect of making me a little tired. Strangely enough, that side effect already started before the injection itself.

I also kept thinking about what the actual purpose of this series of hijacking accounts is. Ingeborg’s Steam wallet and inventory seemed to have been untouched but there must be some way for the criminals to profit off of this, if only to pay for the costs of the website and domain. On Vaccinator day, I finally found an article on https://forums.steamrep.com/pages/hijacking/ that explains it. When you give them your password and current authenticator code, they obviously get access to your account, but you still have the authenticator, so what they can do is limited. Apparently, they use the opportunity to create an API key that allows them to keep accessing your account even after you changed your password and they use it to immediately replace incoming and outgoing trade offers with ones that go to a fake version of your original trade partner with the same name and profile picture. You might then not notice the difference when confirming the trade in the app and give them your items, unknowingly and without them having to have access to or remove your mobile authenticator. A brilliant idea. You might as well check if you have any API keys which you usually shouldn’t, the details are explained on the steamrep link and in the “when it’s too late” section at the top of this piece of medium literature.

And the moral of this story: Always be careful, educate yourself on how they trick you and on digital security in the sense of safety, never assume you won’t fall for it, don’t shame people who fell for it and don’t feel ashamed if you fell for it. And always have an internationally approved technical support character on your team.

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Incident 2 – Simply Building Trust AKA Social Engineer

We write the distant year of 2016. Two… œ… six… one. Oh, I’m an idiot, I held the pen upside down. Never mind. I don’t recall the incident in as many details, but I still know the most important things. It started on a TF2 tdm_hightower community server, rocket jumping and Market Gardenering around. I don’t remember exactly how one of the other players started conversing with me, I just remember that they, I’ll call them Wincohn, added me, chatted with me and wanted to trade one of my items that was not yet tradable. We chatted over the course of multiple days. Eventually, we also chatted about bad things that happened in our pasts, like the divorce of my parents and how their dad allegedly died when they were young. And we comforted each other. They also asked me if I was religious at some point, I guess because religious people are easier to scam. When I took a look at their inventory, I saw TF2 competitive matchmaking beta passes. I don’t remember exactly how that worked, but I was excited about matchmaking and you could only get in if you have the beta pass item, but having it also gives you some invites to give to other people. So I offered to take a beta invite in exchange for the item they wanted. My item, a festive Rocket Launcher was still not tradable though, so they offered me to temporarily give them something else and they would immediately give me a beta invite. Since the beta invite is not an item, I had to trust them they would actually invite me in return. We were on the aforementioned community server again and they agreed to make our trade public to the server members so they could witness it and report one of us, should we not keep our side of the bargain. So we opened a trade and I gave them one cosmetic drop I didn’t need, one cosmetic I used and two non-strange festive weapons so I don’t lose my stats, which were apparently in total about equal in value to the Rocket Launcher. Right before the trade went through, they left the server, which I only noticed when the trade window closed. And they removed me from their friends list. No beta invite. I told the others on the server that we traded but he left before it went through and he scammed me but nobody cared. The chat where we agreed that I would get a beta invite was also gone. I lost my items and I didn’t even have proof that it was a scam and not just a gift or tax dodge. Steam rightfully doesn’t return scammed items, because the scammers of course immediately sell them and taking them away from the buyer would be unfair for them and giving the victim a duplicate would be easily exploitable, but getting them banned would at least prevent further scams. The worst part, though, is that everything they told me was a lie and only served the purpose of gaining my trust. Fascinating.

After it happened, I was of course sad and angry. But only temporarily. I don’t hold a grudge against them, I’ve long since forgiven them. Quite on the contrary, I’m even thankful because I didn’t lose that much virtual material value (like 3 $) and it was a valuable experience. I only hope that they have changed since then and don’t do this anymore. The comments on their profile are disabled to this day, not the best sign. They also don’t have a Steam or third party ban. Either them scamming was not a common occurrence or nobody was ever able to prove it.

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Incident 3 – Wanna Join Our Tournament Team? (Incomplete)

I got another one of those friend requests on Steam from a suspicious looking profile. One of those that have TF2 comp stuff in their profile description. This time, I accepted it to see what they would do, to document more methods used by interwebs criminals.

This account had 1200 hours of TF2 playtime. So it looked like they’re an actual player, or maybe a hijacked account. Their inventory was public as well, but nearly empty, not even regular weapons or anything. They were playing TF2 the entire time and when I checked the server they were on, it always said no server. I guess that means they just have TF2 open the entire time to farm playtime that is publicly and prominently displayed on their profile to appear like a real player.

I tried to go along with their chat but it didn’t go well. I even prepared my long unused Gibus Cap Discord account that I used to use to test roles on our server. But apparently, I asked too many questions. I was too eager to get a nice phishing link into my net. After that last message, they removed me from their friends. Next time, I won’t ask questions.

#phishing #hijacking #scamming #hacking #steam #tf2