#how to tell and detect lies + how to rule her face + learning about poisons + gathering information + using her senses etc.

[fromtheseventhhell]

I'm rewatching the season 8 of GOT, and it's amazing how it gets worse each time each time I notice a new inconsistency. the fact that the prophecy was for nothing, and how with arya killing the night king it made me understand that anyone could kill him, this person just had to have aegon's dagger in their hands like (???)

Why would you do that to yourself?? Forget rewatching, I haven't even watched the final episode (and I never will) 😭

The past few seasons of that show made no sense and I'm tired of people pretending otherwise. It was literally that "anyone could've killed him"; they just shuffled through characters to find one that "felt right" and even considered the Hound or Brienne. The only options should've been Jon or Dany, but Jon would've been "too obvious" (as though being able to tell where the plot is going is a bad thing) and Dany killing the Night King would've been "too heroic" for a character they desperately wanted to demonize. So we were left with...what we got, which really highlights how poorly D&D handled all of these characters. They made Arya's story all about being a fighter, erasing the majority of her development from the books, and then they didn't even make space for her to use those skills. Her face-changing skills never came up after she killed the Freys, she didn't carry out any actual assassinations (they didn't even consider sending her to kill Cersei?), and if they hadn't decided that she would kill the Night King she wouldn't have done anything significant. With the "Ed Sheeran was a surprise for Maisie's last season" thing I doubt they even initially planned for her to survive the entire time, which would've made her story even more pointless. They put no effort into writing her character and just did "whatever was most badass", but I'm supposed to believe that their writing for Arya is anywhere close to what George is writing for her 🥴

#ask #anon #arya stark #asoiaf #anti got #anti d&d #mind you the Night King doesn't even exist in the books but show stans swear that her arc in the books will be the same ✋🏾 #Arya barely even knows how to use a sword and has spent the majority of her time with the faceless men learning languages + #how to tell and detect lies + how to rule her face + learning about poisons + gathering information + using her senses etc. #but Arya haters ignore all of that and make her story all about being a warrior who can't think for herself #The real reason they cut all of that out of her story is because they wanted to prop Sansa up as /the smartest character/ #and Arya being written book accurate would've gotten in the way of that...the same reason they dumbed down Jon and Dany #everything was in service of making Sansa stand out and they ruined the show to do it 😭 #The final season being so poorly received + them being fired from Star Wars was karma #they even changed her helping with a coup at Harrenhal + planning her own escape...anything to remove her intelligence they were so hateful #and you can tell they planned this from the beginning with the changes they made to her character even from the very first episode #/I wanted to be a knight/ like they literally just rewrote her entire character to bend her around Sansa cause they didn't care about her

[loquaciousquark]

Tav questions 3, 7, 13, 24, please and thank you!

13 and 24 were answered here and here, respectively, so I've slid ahead to 17 and 25, the next unanswereds!

3. Did your Tav receive any formal or informal education? If yes, how well did they learn? If no, why not?

She received an excellent formal education until her parents died. She was always a little hard to wrangle into the books - she'd much rather be with her friends - but she was reasonably capable and they wanted her to learn. After they died and she killed her aunt, she learned the rules of the street very quickly.

Tangentially, part of the reason she's a slow reader is that I think she lets her mind wander constantly; she's literate, but distractable, and she'll skip paragraphs at a time and wonder why something doesn't make sense. This is part of why the Headband of Intellect is literally life-changing for her; so many previously alien connections and inferences become suddenly effortless for her, and even when she would benefit more from other items she never takes it off. She's not dumb without it, but so many logical leaps become so much easier with it on, and she deeply enjoys that facility of intuition.

7. What circumstances led to your Tav becoming their Class/Subclass?

For the record, Tavish is a Rogue Thief with the Criminal background. When her parents died, her mother's sister took her in. They lived in her childhood home for a few months, then sold it and moved back to the aunt's house in the slums. The aunt was very bitter about having to take in this sad child, so she roped her into her cons and schemes, swindling the softhearted of the city whenever possible. Sometimes Tav was the face of the con, pleading sadly for help; sometimes she was the hands (she feels VERY protective over Silfy), though she was never as good as her aunt wanted her to be. This is when the aunt sold off most of Tavish's family's belongings and wasted the rest of her inheritance on liquor and [insert moderately ruinous Faerunian drug here].

When she was fourteen, her aunt came at her in a drunken rage, and Tav shivved her with a kitchen knife. She hid the body and lived in the shack as long as she could until taxes came due, around six months, and then when they repossessed the house she fled to the streets. This is where she picked up her survival skills and decent Charisma, though she'd prefer to avoid detection in the first place. She had a small group of similarly aged children she ran with here, mostly other orphans and refugees. No burglary work if she could help it either - strict pickpocketing and occasional begging - but she wasn't good enough to get into the Guild and as her friends improved one by one, she was left behind.

17. How good of a liar is your Tav? How do they feel about lying?

She's a good liar, though her persuasion is better. She doesn't have any compunction about lying as a concept, though as the game goes on, the lies she tells for strictly selfish reasons twinge more and more on her conscience, especially against innocents. She'd rather be honest and just persuade you to give away your belongings than deceive you into it; in her experience, people tend to be a lot less willing to employ the Fist to chase her down for the former.

25. How does your Tav feel about what others think of them?

Initially, she only cares as an academic exercise in getting what she needs; people are more likely to be nice to her if they like her, so she does what she can to be liked. Later, especially with Wyll and Karlach, she finds herself desperate for their approval (they're so Effortlessly Good and it's been a long time since she's been around anyone like that), so she engages in a lot of performative altruism to make sure they like her. She's surprised herself when she starts really caring about the gratitude from the people she helps in the process.

Post-game, unless it's Astarion or one of her friends, she doesn't care at all what people think. The pendulum actually swings too far in this direction for a while, with her almost deliberately shutting out anyone not in her "circle;" it's not until Karlach gives her (and Astarion) a good talking-to about making other, normal friends like Fitz that she goes to a bit more of an effort to genuinely connect with others. I'm not sure how many friends he ends up with outside their group, but she does develop some, and she makes sure to put effort into those relationships over the years. (This includes one of her childhood friends, a girl named Juniper, who grew up to become Lady Ague in Ninefingers's Court.) It's a much healthier dynamic than what she's used to, honestly, and in a lot of ways it's a positive influence on everyone. Thanks, Karlach! :D

#quark replies #servantofclio #tavish gale #tav meme #thank you my dear friend <3 #< #3<3 #quark plays bg3

[leaves-lilies-and-esther]

Six years ago, Dr. Elizabeth Comen, a breast cancer specialist at Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital in Manhattan, held the hand of a patient who was hours from death.

As Dr. Comen leaned in for a final goodbye, she pressed her cheek to her patient’s damp face. “Then she said it,” Dr. Comen recalled.

“‘I’m so sorry for sweating on you.’”

In her two decades as a physician, Dr. Comen has found that women are constantly apologizing to her: for sweating, for asking follow-up questions, for failing to detect their own cancers sooner.

“Women apologize for being sick or seeking care or advocating for themselves,” she said during an interview in her office: “‘I’m so sorry, but I’m in pain. I’m so sorry, this looks disgusting.’”

These experiences in the exam room are part of what drove Dr. Comen to write “All in Her Head: The Truth and Lies Early Medicine Taught Us About Women’s Bodies and Why It Matters Today.” In it, she traces the roots of women’s tendency to apologize for their ailing or unruly bodies to centuries of diminishment by the medical establishment. It’s a legacy that continues to shape the lives of women patients, she argues.

Today, women are more likely to be misdiagnosed than men are and take longer to be diagnosed with heart disease and some cancers; they may be less likely to be offered pain medication; their symptoms are more likely to be written off as anxiety — or, as the book title suggests, as being all in their head.

“The anxious female, the hysterical female, has been a ghost looming and woven through all of medical history,” Dr. Comen said. “It’s a default diagnosis.”

Collectively, she argues in the book, these injustices help to explain why many women report feeling invisible, frustrated or ashamed in doctors’ offices. Shame may be the symptom, but Dr. Comen believes that a deeply misogynistic medical system is the disease.

A History of Exclusion

A mother of three in her mid-40s, Dr. Comen is quick with a camera-ready smile, which has helped to make her a regular in media coverage of breast cancer. She occasionally tears up when discussing her patients.

She once wept on the job in medical school, and a male resident responded by telling her to “pull herself together.”

“I felt like I had to excuse my response,” she said, sitting behind her desk. “And now I cry with patients all the time.”

Her approach has been shaped by decades of experience, as well as by what she learned about the female body’s place in medicine while majoring in the history of science as an undergraduate at Harvard.

“The sense that women’s bodies were not just different but broken is obvious not just in the way doctors spoke of the female anatomy but in the medical vocabulary itself: the female external genitalia was termed ‘pudenda,’ a Latin word that means ‘things to be ashamed of,’” she writes.

In “All in Her Head,” Dr. Comen offers a sweeping look at the ways in which she says modern medicine has disregarded women. For centuries, she writes, early medical authorities believed that women were merely “small men” — though lacking external genitals and comparable mental capacity, ruled by noxious humors and hormones.

For too long, doctors dismissed “what could be legitimate physiological problems as irrelevant, as hormonal, and therefore not important,” said Wendy Kline, a professor of the history of medicine at Purdue University.

And this was the case for white women of means, Dr. Comen writes in the book. If you were a woman of color, or you were poor, you were viewed by medical authorities as even less of an authority on your own body, and thus less worthy of care and compassion.

“For Black women, when we go into a clinical setting, we have to think about racial and gender discrimination,” said Keisha Ray, an associate professor of humanities and bioethics at UTHealth Houston, who studies the effects of institutional racism on Black people’s health. “It tends to be more exaggerated, the lack of compassion and the lack of care that you receive.”

Take heart disease, for example. In the late 19th century, Dr. William Osler, one of the founding fathers of modern medicine, declared that women presenting with what we now know to be symptoms of heart attacks or arrhythmias — including shortness of breath and palpitations — were almost certainly suffering from “pseudo angina,” or false angina, “a collection of neurosis-induced symptoms masquerading as genuine disease,” Dr. Comen writes.

It’s only in the past 25 years that cardiology studies have included women in significant numbers. Today, some heart attack symptoms that are more common in women, such as jaw and back pain, are still described as “atypical” simply because doctors don’t see them as often in men, and are less likely to be taken seriously, even though 44 percent of women will develop heart disease at some point in their life and one in five women will die from it.

“We have used the male model for diagnosis, for treatment, as the gold standard,” said Dr. Jennifer Mieres, a cardiologist with Northwell Health and co-author of the book “Heart Smarter for Women.” This has “led to continued misrepresentation, misdiagnosis, under-recognition of heart attack in women.”

How to Advocate for Yourself

In each chapter of “All in Her Head,” Dr. Comen interviews physicians who are working to improve the system, starting with taking female patients’ complaints seriously — not just chalking up physical symptoms, from chest pain to fatigue to gastrointestinal discomfort, to anxiety until all other causes area ruled out, for example.

Dr. Comen also shares practical tools to better partner with an imperfect system.

First, she writes, it’s essential for all patients to trust their knowledge of their own bodies and advocate for themselves. Before an appointment, ask yourself: What truly concerns you about your body?

“Not what you think you should be worried about,” Dr. Comen writes. “Not what you think your doctor will be able to most comfortably and easily address.”

Next, if you feel anxious about your health or that you’re not being heard, enlist a friend or family member to accompany you to appointments. This person can serve as an advocate and an extra set of eyes and ears.

Finally, if you don’t like your doctor, find a new one. This can be easier said than done, she acknowledged, but a trusting and respectful relationship with your health care provider is every patient’s right.

#radical feminism #radblr #women's rights #politics #women #medical misogyny #I highly highly recommend reading the comments #Lots of stories

[cinnamonest]

Diluc Ragnvindr - Yandere Profile

Yall are so kind and I am so undeserving hhhhh

If you stand idly by that flower girl in Mondstadt her idle line is something like "All I can think about is Diluc" And honestly same

This man exudes bde I'm sorry I just... It is a known FACT that Diluc is packing and I refuse to believe otherwise, lord have mercy I'm bout to SIMP

tws: yandere, mentions of violence

tws (below cut): noncon, kinda misogynistic in 1 part

------

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Acutely aware, and in the beginning, frustrated with his own self. He's very much a loner type of guy, and he likes it that way -- in his mind, people are distractions.

He doesn't talk to you too much, but you'll slowly and subtly notice his presence with increasing frequency. He hovers. Silent, but intimidating. He's always there, in the background. Somehow, everywhere you go, you can spot him somewhere if you try, and even if you don't see him, you know someone is watching you, from the skin crawling feeling of eyes on you. It will never go away, and it's easily enough to drive you to paranoia.

In reality, he'd like to talk, really, but he doesn't know how. For the first time in his life, he actually has the urge to speak with someone, not for his own desire to speak so much as speak with you- to learn about you, to hear your voice. But the poor thing has no idea what to say. He's used to just going about his day and only speaking to others when they need something from him.

When he does talk to you, he finds himself even enjoying the silliest and most trivial of things you say. Normally he hates small talk, and he's normally annoyed by anything outside of very serious matters, but even if you're raving about something he has no interest in, he's happy to listen just because it's you.

He's fairly aware, too. Not a delusional for the most part, and he's honestly a bit afraid of rejection - he knows he's not the most pleasant or charming person to be around, and certainly not the best conversationalist. He tries to make up for it in thinking that his money, status, and protective ability can be something he can use to draw you in, so he makes sure to subtly and frequently remind you of those things.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Eventually, it's inevitable. It will happen, it's just a matter of time. His reasoning is less about your fragility and safety, even if he pretends it is, and more of a selfish thing. He doesn't want to be, and he'll certainly feel guilty for it, but he's a silently jealous person. Hearing you talk to others, seeing you smile at others, it drives him up the wall. Even during the day, he can't focus, thinking of what you're doing, who you're with, what you're doing with that person, and so on. He can't get anything accomplished, and people notice something is wrong with him. Really, it won't be a very long time at all.

He's not a very good manipulator, and he can't really think of a good reason to get you to walk into the winery backrooms on your own, so as barbaric as it may feel, he'll settle for the old fashioned way, just taking you, probably when you're walking all by yourself late at night. He is very intelligent, and will most likely formulate a way of making you seen responsible for some crime upon your disappearance, to discourage you from leaving, and to make it seem less mysterious when you disappear. People will assume that the darknight hero got to you. And, well, they’re not wrong.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

Initially, he's watchful, staying at the winery so that you can't get far without him noticing. He'll cancel his plans elsewhere and make sure he's never more than sight distance away from the building. With time, he'll have to leave, and when he does, he'll probably invest in some very high quality locks to keep you in. Should that prove to not be enough, he'll have to use chains to keep you attached to the wall, instead. Needless to say, it's difficult.

If you manage an attempt, he'll be angry, sure, but he understands why. The first time, at least. Don't push it. If you manage to keep trying, his sympathy for you will slowly erode with each successive attempt, and soon he'll run out of mercy, and decide maybe just forgiving you isn't enough, and you actually need to learn a lesson to prevent this from happening again.

"Again? You really... Really don't give up, do you. This is the fourth time now... You've really pushed it, you know, I've tried to be nice. If you're not gonna get that, I'll make you understand."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Canonically speaking, he's fairly good at predicting the actions of others. He's clever like that. However, he's not the best at reading faces. As far as lies go, he will detect it maybe 80% of the time, but you can probably get away with a bit - once he catches you doing it once, though, he'll suspect you from there on out, and be much less likely to buy your lies.

When it comes to manipulation, he's one of the ones where it's like, he kinda knows, and lets it happen anyway, if it's for the sake of you being happy with him. That, and he's just flat out weak to your smiles and begging for little things. He's got his limits, though, so you'd be wise to only use this sparingly and not push it.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Protective to the maximum degree. Probably the worst of genshin boys.

Absolutely zero contact with the outside. No family, no friends, he might even go to the extent of faking your death to ensure there's not even anyone who will look for you.

Unlike Childe, Zhongli, or Albedo that I've mentioned as allowing you for walks or outside visits... That's not happening with Diluc. No, he's insanely protective, to the point that you very well might not see sunlight again, except through a window.

And he gets that it can get depressing, he really does, it's just the one thing he can't do. He'll try to substitute it, get you nice large windows to let the sun in that you can sit in front of - provided he's there - and maybe after a while build a little screened-in porch for the winery that you can walk around on - again, provided he's right there. You really can't expect him to let you out there when you're alone. What if someone saw you and tried to hurt you?

You get the feeling it's less about keeping anything else out, and more about keeping you in, though.

He's actually good about letting you do things for yourself, though. He won't restrain you from cooking or kitchen utensils or anything like that, unless you do something stupid like try to hurt him or yourself, in which case it'll be a revoked privilege.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Initially, he tries to go easy on rules, as part of his attempt to make you more accepting. He'll keep you more restrained for the first little while, and later on you'll be allowed to walk, but certain sections of the building will be off limits. He's fairly simple - be obedient, stay inside, don't try to fight. He'll invent new ones based on your behaviors as time goes on, but for the most part, he doesn't want to control you too much.

He fears getting too mad and making you scared of him, so, he struggles to punish you initially. He's probably willing to let quite a bit slide, but once he senses you're taking advantage of that, he'll put an end to it. Once again, he can thank the fact that he's naturally intimidating - he'll grab your jaw and force you to look at him, and honestly, just the look on his face is enough to send chills down your spine. If you're persistent, he's not able to leave you all alone and isolate you, no, he can't handle being away from you for that long. He'll appeal to the punishment of boredom, tying you to one spot and giving you nothing to entertain yourself with will get you to crack in a fairly short amount of time.

Humiliation works well, too. You're all alone except for him, you don't need clothes. So if you want them, you'll have to behave.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

This man only has to look at people to send them running. He's very grateful for his scowl once he realizes the power it holds. You'll be none the wiser as to why everyone you meet seems to end up avoiding you, why people get nervous when you approach, why you can walk into a public place and it will clear out within minutes of you walking through the door. It's ok, though, since you have him to go to for your problems. He'll shrug and tell you he doesn't know why it happens to you, but it's no big deal, you don't have to worry about it, because you don't need them anyway, right?

He's not above having chats with people either. If they're not driven off by the glares, he'll give them another chance by spelling out very clearly that they should back off.

With persistent offenders, though, he has to come up with other means. He's not a delusional, and he knows deep down that this is selfish, that they're not really doing anything wrong per se, but his anger is violent and ultimately overrides any guilt. He'll find a way to make them out to be criminals, spies, or some other form of bad person, and they'll meet their fate at the hands of Mondstadt's mysterious nighttime vigilante.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

His default personality is... Irritated. He scowls a lot, he gets exasperated easy - even if he tries to be a bit more pleasant for you. His irritation is so common that seeing genuine anger is a bit rarer.

When he does, though, it's one of the worst. To really, really make him mad, you'd have to be exceptionally, intentionally bratty to the point of antagonism - he's understanding and lucid enough to understand why you fight him, why you try to run, but do it over and over relentlessly, or just be a childish brat and ignore his warnings, and he'll snap. His voice bellows when he's mad, it's deep and terrifying and echoes off the walls, his eyes narrow and he stomps heavily with every step. He'll grab you by the arm hard enough to bruise, and if you refuse to follow and dig your heels in, he'll just roughly swing you onto his shoulder and carry you.

He has to exert the anger in some way, though. He's not like some yanderes that can be talked down or calmed, or are going to go easy on you if you apologize and beg. Once the anger is there, it's there until he physically takes it out in some way.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It depends, really, because he's highly lucid, so he has very little delusions about you. Unlike many of the others, he's willing to acknowledge your mental competence, and if you're intelligent and have life experience he'll acknowledge it. He won't recognize physical capability, though, since you're nothing compared to his strength. If you are a capable, independent person, he won't delude himself into thinking otherwise. It will, however, have a negative effect, probably the opposite of what you hope for - he's going to feel a bit intimidated by it, really, because if you're capable and independent, you don't need him as much. He's more likely to find ways to force your dependency on him, if so, but deep down he knows you're an equal on a mental level, and it's frustrating.

Now, otherwise - if you're a little more on the ditzy, airheaded side - it will be below. He's realistic, again, and if you genuinely do fall into the category of being naive and a bit dumb, he'll recognize it. He feels more secure in your dependency, and he's more likely to baby you this way, and will absolutely be more protective.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He really wants you to. He's not sure if he deserves it, though. He's acutely, painfully aware of how awful the things he's done are, and to top it all off, he knows that he should wish he was a better man that had self control, yet... He doesn't. He can't lie to himself and pretend to even have a shred of regret, even if he feels guilt. If he hadn't done all those things, you wouldn't be here with him like this, and even though he knows it's selfish, so very, very selfish, knowing that the horrible things he did got him the result he wanted makes it worth it. And given the opportunity to go back, he'd do it again.

He wants you to genuinely love him, and even though he struggles with human affection and communication, he'll try his best to be sweet to you, say nice things, try to be less irritable, try to talk more.

But if dependency, isolation-induced attachment love is the best he can get, well, that's still love.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

He likes to just... Spend time in your presence. He's still ultimately not much for talking, he runs out of things to say very quickly and even if you're not talking, he's very very happy to be around you. If you're being cold towards him even, he wants to just sit there and be beside you, if you get up and sit on the other side of the room, or walk to another room (provided you have the privilege to do so), he'll follow you wherever like a little lost puppy and just silently sit right back down next to you again. He soaks in your presence like sunlight, it makes him happy.

If you show him affection, especially after an abduction or when stockholm syndrome starts to set in, it's one of the few times you'll see him smile. His smile is soft and faint, and it's less his mouth so much as his eyes that seem to light up. If you show him affection, you can eventually reach a very vulnerable, very soft side of him. He keeps up walls for everyone else, and he kind of desperately wants someone he doesn't have to do that with, so he'll crumble to your affection fairly quickly, once he's assured of your love.

Also, he's one of the ones who fully understands why you're mad. He gets it, he's lucid, and he honestly knows how awful what he's doing is. He still hopes you'll get over it, though, and if confinement and isolation except for him is what it takes to achieve that... So be it. Rather than justifying his actions, he acknowledges what he's done, but he's aware that psychologically, he's already long past the point of no return, and he can't bring himself to stop.

“I know this wasn’t... what you wanted, and, I know it’s, I know this was really, really bad, but I only did it for your sake. If you just... try to get used to it... maybe you can be happy, if you try.”

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

High, but embarrassed as all hell. He likes to maintain a very respectable and serious image, and people knowing that behind that neutral poker face is a brain running through nasty, nasty fantasies would not be very conductive to that image.

And that's what he does - working the bar gets very, very slow sometimes, and there's not much to do but sit around and let his mind wander. The more bored he gets, the more involved in these fantasies he becomes, and sometimes you might have to tap him on the shoulder to snap him out of it.

He feels guilty, really, for how he feels about you, and he knows that it's wrong and violating... But. But if you don't know, it won't hurt you, now will it? Nothing about the fact that he just thinks about bending you over the bar tables and fucking you raw is going to actually do anything bad. It's harmless.

He won't be touchy or perverse towards you by any means, and while that's nice, it causes something of a... Buildup. A lot of urges and needs have gone unmet, a lot of desperation to just feel you skin that has never been filled, and the thing about buildups is that when you reach a certain point they'll eventually burst, which is going to be what happens once you're in your new home.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He's moderate. He'd like you to want it, he's not highly sadistic and doesn't get off to your struggling/crying the way Childe or Kaeya would. But, in the end he's very set on what he wants, and if you're not open to it, he's not going to wait long. As aforementioned, he's got a lot of pent-up need that has gone unchecked, and while he normally strives for self control, at the point of kidnapping you, he's built up enough sexual frustration that he's not going to be very patient. Again, he's not going to be mean about it, he's more the type to just kiss your forehead and mutter a few reassuring things, even as you hiss at the pain of being impaled. That's another issue - he's convinced you might just be intimidated by the size, so he'll keep reassuring you that it's not going to last long, your body just needs time to adjust, even though you feel like you're being split in two.

He's content with knowing that, even if you mentally aren't wanting it, your bodily reactions show that you're clearly not repulsed or anything.

He's also another one to use that very thing against you, much like Albedo. He can feel you twitch and clamp down when you're close and he'll tell you that if you love him you'll cum, and if you don't love him, you won't. But no amount of trying to bring yourself down is enough to override the overwhelming stimulation.

He's also one to get rougher/more intense with time. At first, he's a bit afraid of hurting you, and he's not entirely familiar with how this all goes, and even can be a bit prudish and reserved. But the more he fucks you, the more and more he realizes he really likes having a sense of control and dominance over you, and just how nice it feels to come home when he's frustrated from a bad day and just fuck that energy out. Once he realizes you're not going to break or anything, you'll notice him gradually getting rougher and harder with time, until it becomes a norm.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Stomach bulging/size kink

He's not normally an outwardly prideful person. His pride is more of a silent aloof type of pride, rather than a smug showoff type. He's not one to emphasize his positive traits just to look good. But, fuck, if there isn't something very, very pleasing about being able to physically see his dick making a bulge on your stomach every time he fucks into you. He'll make sure you don't close your eyes, grab your hair and pull your head down so you're forced to watch it fill you more than you can take, over and over.

He doesn't want to hurt you, really, but of all the things to whimper about, you just had to squeal that it's too big, that it hits your cervix, that it's splitting you apart, and as much as he really wants to be a good guy, you're really making it difficult. Hearing that just breaks something primal in him and makes him want to fuck you harder.

It's one of the few things he can actually get smug about, watching you clutch your gut and whimper from bruising and soreness even long after, and as time goes on he might lose enough shame about it all to make a smug comment. He knows he should feel bad. But again, you make it hard to.

Breeding

It's a possession thing, really. There's something so utterly satisfying about just watching cum drip out of you, listening to you whimper whenever you feel it filling you up. It's kind of cute, when he tells you he'll cum inside you and you panic, you squeal and wriggle and unintentionally clench down hard enough to make that happen, you practically just milk the cum out of him when you do.

Forced feminization?/housewife kink/I dont know what to call it but hear me out dammit

He has in his brain this idea of a perfect little housewife and you're going to fit that model whether you want to or not. When he breaks into goes back to your old apartment to bring clothes for your new home he'll only pick the most frilly, feminine of all the things you owned, and if you don't have too many, he'll buy ones for you.

He just likes the idea of having a nice, sweet little wife to come back to, especially after being so stressed with whatever bullshit he's had to put up with that day. Really, any darling in captivity is kinda sorta filling that role, but he's got a very specific image in his mind of you being very... Domestic. Submissive. Frilly little clothes and aprons and cleaning things and making food, it's very cute and gives him a weird sense of dominance that will inevitably turn to arousal - something about the whole ownership and submission aspect of seeing you walk around in those clothes, doing your little chores makes him really want to grab you and bend you over the nearest surface and just - well, you get the idea.

And he's not gonna listen to your whining, either, even if you're a naturally tomboyish person. You could have been the roughest adventurer there was out there, all ragged and getting covered in scrapes and climbing mountains and fighting monsters, but that's in the past, now. Now, is time for you to give that lifestyle up, in favor of a better one, one that will make you happier... if you just let it. 

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He's yes and no, but mostly yes in theory. It fits into his little housewife fantasy and he feels it would be a good way to keep you attached to him. It would make you less likely to leave, it would give you something to do all day, you'd be happy. He's a bit worried about his own capabilities, though. He's not super empathetic and he's not very talkative. Ultimately, it would probably end up an accident that results from the aforementioned breeding kink.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Another one kind of like Razor, he's not gonna think it out too much, but holy fuck, if he's mad, just fucking feels like a punishment in and of itself. You'll realize just how much he's holding back on the regular when you see what it's like when he hold nothing back. It's bruising, it's brutal, and it's a little frightening to witness that kind of raw strength. He'd be one to pick you up into the air completely, holding your whole body up with his arms, forcing you to cling to him so as to not fall while he bounces you up and down on him. And really, once you account for the affect of gravity, so it's slamming into you at unprecedented force, and fuck, it's likely horribly painful, even if that pleasure is still there.

If he's exceptionally mad, he's another one willing to belt you, and while he'll certainly get off to it, it's something he'll only do when he genuinely has a reason to punish you.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Thighs. He likes hooking them over his shoulders, grabbing the fleshy soft parts with his hands, running his hands up and down the sides. One day, one you're comfortable enough, he'd really like to just lay his head down on them like a pillow, they look so soft. And he loves looking at them too, loves things that show just enough of the curve of your hips to your legs and the soft skin underneath.

#fellow diluc simps rejoice #for i am here to feed thy needs #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere diluc #tw: noncon #tw: dark content #tw: misogyny #sorta? #chr: diluc

[fire-lady-ilah]

More good dad! Ozai AU? Even if you didn’t ask for it, you’re getting it and I’m picking up right where I left off. This is my reminder that, while Ozai is a good and non-abusive dad and husband in this, he is still very much an imperialist and a cruel person in general.

Parts [1] and [2] if you’d like. This is part 3. Here’s part [4]

The siblings venture into the capital, although they make it known that no one should inform their parents that they are nearby. The moment they step off the ship, Captain Jee sends a letter to the Fire Lady. He was loyal to the Prince and Princess above all, but he did not feel like being executed or exiled that day when Lady Ursa inevitably finds out.

In a large house just outside Caldera City, Lord Ukano lives with his wife, Michi, his daughter and heir, Mai, and his newborn son Tom-Tom. The Dragon Emperor and the Blue Spirit sneak into the bedroom of the heiress and steal her away.

In that I mean, Mai leaps at the opportunity to escape her home with her best friends, who she’s seen wearing the same theatre masks dozens of times, and follows willingly. It takes an hour longer than the siblings had expected, if only because Mai has far more knives than they had truly expected and they get caught up in the palace kitchens stealing Azula’s favourite mochi and some bags of fire flakes.

Then they are caught by Fire Lady Ursa, who is gathering a late night cup of cocoa after a nice night with her husband, not that her children need to know that part. Her children, who are wearing her theatre masks that had very recently gone missing from her collection, stare at her innocently. Her daughter carries two entire boxes she knows are full of mochi. Her son carries the fire flake bag they use for festivals. Her one day daughter-in-law is making a cup of cocoa and the Fire Lady calmly requests one for herself from the girl.

That night, the fire Prince and Princess sleep in their own rooms, with Lady Mai in one of the many available. In the morning, they take breakfast with the Fire Lord and Lady, discussing trivial matters of politics and domestic affairs.

Mai leaves on the request of the Fire Lord, bringing everything they took from her home and the palace (along with what Ursa and Ozai insisted they take) to the ship with the help of some soldiers.

Azula and Zuko sit with their parents. Ursa gives them each two potent bottles of poison. Ozai’s voice has a worry that only his family knows how to detect through the facade of boredom as he inquires how their firebending and blades practice has been, as to the state of their weaponry. They try to soothe their parents worries with assurances: their practice has been going well in both bending and blades, Azula has achieved perfection in lightningbending and Zuko has achieved lightning, their blades are sharp and well maintained, they weren’t harmed when the temple blew up—

It slips through Zuko’s lips. He was never the actor like his mother and sister. For their part, his parents do not react overly beyond a flickering of the flame and a long sip of tea.

“Your mission has changed.”

Ozai is smart. Everything he does is to serve his goals the best they can. In canon, the premier of those goals is to gain more power for himself. In this world, that goal is to secure the ideal outcome for his family. (Of course, his second goal is as much power as possible. But it is only considered after his first goal).

Allying themselves with the Avatar, at least in appearances, will secure the best outcome for his children. And he has no doubt that his brother (so weak after the death of his son. And yet, Ozai cannot find it within him to scorn him overly. He knows that were he to be left childless, he would break. It is merely that Ozai would break in an explosion, whereas Iroh’s flame fizzled into embers.) would eagerly help his children betray him. Even if it was just in appearances.

His children are loyal and dutiful. They protest, but only out of a desire to maintain that loyalty. He wishes the Avatar had remained hidden, at least until they were both adults. They are prodigal, yes, but they are just siblings.

“You have our permission to reveal your mother’s ancestry. Use it wisely.”

The children know their lineage for at least five generations on each side. That, of course, is in addition to their knowledge of every Fire Lord that has reigned since the unification of the Fire Nation. They are well aware that their Grandmother Rina (who feeds them chocolate and tells them stories whenever she visits) ‘s father was Avatar Roku. Just as they knew of the friendship between Fire Lord Sozin and Avatar Roku.

It is necessary for the people of their nation to hear pretty lies. It is not their responsibility to worry about the nuance and complexity of life. It is one of their responsibilities as Angi’s heirs in the mortal world. To worry of such things is a burden they should not have to bear. It is necessary for the people to believe the Avatar hated the Fire Lord.

The siblings don’t know everything, of course. They are just children after all. But they understand the nuance, the conflicting beliefs. They were told the truth (and carefully kept from necessary propaganda before then) when they were old enough to look critically at the situation. It was their duty to bring the Fire Nation’s good to the other nations, to liberate their populations, the siblings decided.

The Avatar is just a child, but he seemed able to connect with his past lives. And he had pointedly not hurt them, at least as Avatar Roku.

If nothing else, they have the Dragon Emperor and Blue Spirit on their side.

“Zhao has asked for permission to launch an invasion on the Northern Water Tribe. He is a fool, but he claims he has knowledge that will ensure his victory. Tomorrow, I will send him a letter approving his asinine idea. You will stop him— kill him, if you must— and use that act of perceived treason to ally yourselves with the Avatar.”

Ozai wants power, but he is no fool. The invasion is risky at best. He cannot find it within himself to care for the tens of thousands that would doubtlessly die in it, the Northern Water Tribe had the advantage in multiple ways. It would serve its purpose to get his children at the Avatar’s side.

The tone lightens after his orders and Ozai steps back from his role as Father Lord into just being a father. He teases his son on his interactions with his betrothed. He teases his daughter and asks if she would be visiting the circus soon, taking note of how she had learned to prevent a blush but not the squeak in her voice. They are not infallible, they are children.

As they see their children for the last time in the foreseeable future, the Fire Lord and Lady both think as to how much they will miss them. Ursa blinks back tears as she hugs them both, smiling as they react identically, burying their faces into her chest to hide them and breathing in the scent of fire lily perfume.

Ozai is not usually physically affectionate with his children. He had never received it from his father and was much more competent in other ways. That being said, no one commented on the kiss he pressed to the top of Zuko’s head (still shorter than him by quite a bit. Sometimes he acted so adult, but he was so clearly still a child) before repeating the action with Azula.

“I am so proud of you. Both of you.”

I’m just now realizing Blue Spirit is supposed to be after the whole Roku thing. Oh well.

For appearances’ sake, the siblings and Mai continue to chase the Avatar. Zhao attacks the Avatar while he trains under the Deserter. Princess Azula ensures the forest doesn’t burn while Prince Zuko uses all the bottled up anger at both Zhao himself and Azulon (really, what is with grown men trying to kill 11/12 year olds?) to yell at Zhao for acting so recklessly.

And if, perhaps, he manages to endear himself to others by knocking Zhao’s feet out from under him, all the better.

The Avatar and his friends escape and the siblings celebrate another success as Zhao nurses his bruised ass and ego.

(“Hey, did the Deserter look like that dude in Master Piandao’s painting in his main hall to you?”

“Admiral Jeong Jeong and Master Piandao were married, Zuko. Obviously that was him.”)

Zhao attempts to order their crew away from them, citing his rank as admiral as above prince and princess.

Azula’s sharp tongue reminds Admiral Zhao that Zuko is not only a prince, but the Crown Prince, and thus he is equal in rank to Zhao. As was their uncle a general, retired or not.

Behind the royalty of the ship stands Captain Jee, his eyes locked with Zhao’s. His eyes promise mutiny even if he were to somehow take them. His eyes swear loyalty to the Crown Prince, to his sister, above all else.

Zhao turns to leave.

“Of course, that is not to say we will not join your invasion.” Zuko sounds like his father sometimes, and never more than when his voice holds a hint of smug satisfaction. “Merely, do not presume to think you can order us in any way. We out rank you, and our crew is the best our Nation has to offer.”

Their ship joins, at least in appearance, Zhao’s fleet. That being said, they obey no orders from the Admiral and only allow his “inspections” of the ship and their crew once. For all intents and purposes, they are just there to observe.

And observe they do. The siblings watch the way Zhao treats his subordinates and twin righteous flames burns in their chests. The truth of being raised by a loving father means that Zuko and Azula are both rather sheltered in comparison to their canon selves. They are raised on ideals of honour and the divine responsibility of a monarch, rather than on the truths of war and practicality of rule. It only results in a hotter fire and more questions as to if Sozin’s way was truly the one to follow.

They still have absolute faith in their father. After all, he is the one that raised them, that taught them of honour and the ideals of a monarch. He is the one that sheltered them. He is the one that suggested they befriend the Avatar to keep them safe.

On the ship, only three people know the entire plan. The first two are the siblings, of course. The third is Captain Jee. He is the one that will keep their ship away from the invasion itself so there is no risk of their crew being harmed in the doomed attack. He is the one that will direct the ship to the colonies once the siblings are with the Avatar. Captain Jee has no qualms about technically commuting treason.

Mai knows some of the plan. In that, Mai knows exactly what Zuko and Azula tell her and then what she observes. She sees the way they stick together, now more than ever. Sees the way that Azula trains her non-lethal lightning (because even she, a nonbender, knows it’s far harder to bend lightning that doesn’t kill than that that does). She hears the way they drop the title of Fire Lord when speaking of their royal great grandfather. She catches whispers about Fire Lord Roku. About the Avatar.

Mai, in a way, knows more than the siblings themselves. She knows that they are genuinely sympathetic toward the Avatar in a way that they don’t yet realize. She begins to keep all her knives on her person, along with an easily grab-able bag for travelling in her room. There was no way she’d be letting her best friends turn traitor without her. This is the most exciting thing she’s done in years.

Iroh knows less than he believes. Oh, he gets the dropped title just as well as Mai, but he does not know the intricacies of Zuko and Azula the way Mai does. He sees Azula’s practice and writes it off as her ever-present search for perfection. He catches the tail end of a conversation between siblings and does not stop to consider who exactly “great grandfather” may be referring to. It would be unthinkable for his brother to tell the children of their heritage.

Despite this, Iroh also knows more than most. He knows from conversation exactly what Zhao intends to do in the Northern Water Tribe and it turns his blood to boil.

They reach the Northern Water Tribe. The siblings sneak off the ship in an emergency boat. Mai enters at the last moment and neither send her away.

Iroh has already left the ship, though he is currently in one last meeting with Zhao in an attempt to convince him not to continue with his plan. He will not check back with his niece and nephew, believing them to be safe on the ship.

In the Northern Water Tribe, the three Fire Nation teens remain tucked into the shadows. They, unfortunately, have no idea where the Avatar is and wander through the city. However, they reach the Avatar’s friends before Zhao does.

(“Is he... alive?”

“He’s just meditating.”)

It goes far better than they could have expected. The siblings’ act of releasing Sokka and Katara from Zhao’s bindings results in a part of water tribe siblings being quite willing to hear them out. Princess Yue gives them an odd look but remains quiet.

Zhao shows up. Iroh shows up. Azula and Zuko denounce him (though they cannot bring themselves to denounce their father, even though they know they should). Zhao declares them all traitors, a koi fish in a bag in his hand.

A bolt of lightning hits Zhao straight in the back. Both he and the koi fish fall into the pool of water. He does not emerge.

Azula’s face is carefully blank, even as she watches the water. She cannot stop to consider whether it is her or the water that just killed the admiral, or if he was even dead at all. She could not even see his body in its depths. She used non-lethal strength.

Despite Princess Yue’s backing, the Northern Water Tribe wants to take the siblings prisoner (hostage, everyone knows). After all, everyone knows of the devotion they show to the Fire Lord and vice versa. If nothing else, they would be excellent bargaining pieces in a more formal treaty.

They had not factored this into their plan. Admittedly, they had not factored the Northern Water Tribe into their plan at all.

The three Fire Nation teens are thrown into a prison cell. A rather comfortable prison cell, but still a prison cell. Iroh is taken somewhere else.

Within five hours, they sit on the back of a flying bison, Sokka handing them food he had smuggled out of the meal as Katara was smuggling them out of prison.

(“We tried to get your Uncle too,” the Avatar says in a remorseful tone, “but we couldn’t find him.”

“Uncle will be fine.” Azula declares, her mind set only on the future as she tries not to think about the way Zhao sunk beneath the still surface of the pond.

Zuko nods in agreement and clutches her hand in a comforting way.)

The Gaang now consists of six people:

Aang, a twelve year old Avatar with a mastery in air and a decent proficiency in water. He looks at the Fire Nation teens and sees his friend Kuzon, sees a time from before the war when an Air Nomad could wander freely through the Fire Nation. He attempts to use Fire Nation slang with them but it’s a century old and results in only laughter.

Katara, a master waterbender and healer (a concept that intrigues Azula to no end, although she tries to keep her questions polite). She tends to have a short temper when it comes to matters of the Fire Nation, but even she can be coaxed into trying a few sweets that Zuko has stored in his bag.

Sokka, a hunter and warrior who may or may not be engaged to the NWT princess (Zuko says he is, Azula says he isn’t). Azula laments that her jokes are even worse than Zuko’s, to which Mai agrees. It is that comment that leads Sokka and Zuko to start bonding, having nothing better to do on the bison’s back than exchange bad jokes.

Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, who Sokka would insist is walking Fire Nation propaganda as he goes on at least one rant about Fire Nation culture and technology a day. Who surprisingly helps Katara with the cooking because it was one of the things Fire Lady Ursa carried over from before she was Fire Lady and taught to her children.

Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, who has a sharp tongue and a sharper pair of twin daggers that she seems to enjoy threatening her brother with for any inconvenience, even though they both just laugh at it. (Katara and Sokka have to be assured by them both that they truly love each other and that threatening each other with weapons carried over from the theatre scrolls they used to act out as children).

Lady Mai talks the least, seemingly content just to talk to Zuko and Azula. Aang makes it his mission to get her to warm up to him and spends a good portion of his time trying to talk to her. He succeeds when he brings up air ball, of all things. Mai’s parents had discouraged her from sport, believing it to be unfitting of a young lady just as they had discouraged her interest in knives until Zuko and Azula had ganged up on them. Partially for that reason, Mai enjoyed sports quite a bit, a shock to even Zuko (though Azula knew). After that, she talks mainly to Zuko, Azula, and Aang.

Captain Jee guides his ship to the Fire Nation colonies, unable to confirm that his Prince and Princess were okay. He hadn’t expected the worry he feels now, but he knows he will be awaiting a letter at Yu Dao if they are safe.

Prince Iroh is startled to discover that, while meeting with Master Pakku, the Avatar, his friends, his nephew and niece, and Mai had all disappeared.

As had his ship.

#Good Dad! Ozai #My poor friends #but good dad Ozai be compelling #evil but a good dad #oh also blanket permission to use any of the ideas I propose in this series (tho I'd love to know if you do use them) #fire lord ozai #ozai #zuko #prince zuko #fire lady ursa #ursa #azula #princess azula #fire nation #fire nation royal family #mai #mai atla #iroh #uncle iroh #jee #lieutenant jee #though he isn’t a lieutenant in this #Zhao #admiral zhao #aang #katara #sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #the gaang

[becomewings]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

  BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 4 / 4

« pt. 3  |  start at the beginning

Introduction

The final sections for TaeHyung’s arc and the Epilogue are 4.3k and 4.4k, respectively. As with earlier parts of the series, I have included “tl;dr commentary” at the bottom of the post after a section of additional thoughts (specifically devoted to an interesting MV location parallel!). This commentary summarizes the parenthetical asides I made throughout the summaries and may be of interest as standalone reading to those who have already played the game yet would like to review its connections to the BU texts and MVs.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Heart’s Distance

TaeHyung’s story opens with a short cutscene. In his apartment (with the calendar on the wall open to May), TaeHyung smiles at a photo of his father holding him as a baby. (The image looks similar to the photograph he holds at 1’48” in the HYYH On Stage: Prologue short film.) Remembering his father’s drinking and violence, he crumples the photo with a sigh. SeokJin then narrates over a series of shots explaining the latest developments in the loops. By this 15 May Year 22, he has saved NamJoon, ensured that JungKook and YoonGi saved each other, prevented HoSeok’s accident in the hospital, and borrowed everyone’s help to free JiMin. Everyone is gathered outside NamJoon’s container that night, smiling and giddy from saving JiMin. “How long has it been since we’ve all laughed together?” SeokJin asks. (This is a reference to the recurring phrase “we can laugh when we’re together” present throughout the Notes and occasionally this game.) He wants to relax and enjoy the moment too but knows this isn’t over yet. TaeHyung is laughing radiantly next to JiMin. “What drives this happy and innocent TaeHyung to commit such an unspeakable act?” he wonders.

SeokJin’s reflections on the coming days in previous loops present the crux of his challenge and this story: on 19 May, TaeHyung is arrested for vandalism while painting graffiti on the streets. (The bus stop depicted in the shot is the same as the one in Highlight Reel.) One thing SeokJin has learned through the loops is that TaeHyung and his sister live under the constant threat of domestic violence. On 20 May, TaeHyung goes home after spending the night at the police station. The situation gets especially bad for his older sister, and TaeHyung makes a choice that he can’t take back. (In the shot in the game, TaeHyung approaches his father from behind and the sound of glass occurs on a cut to black. We know from the I Need U MV and Save Me webtoon that he fatally stabs his father.) SeokJin’s inner thoughts relate that he has tried to stop this event by preventing TaeHyung from going home this day or even involving NamJoon—but all of his attempts have ended in failure.

While SeokJin is mulling over this challenge during their gathering on the night of 15 May, HoSeok approaches and asks what he’s thinking about by himself. “Oh, nothing much,” SeokJin dismisses. HoSeok remarks that it’s nice to be there with everyone. “It makes me think of the old days…” While HoSeok happily chats, SeokJin’s attention stays on TaeHyung as he approaches NamJoon. The player is given the choice to “get closer to eavesdrop” or “listen to what HoSeok has to say.” In the first path, SeokJin excuses himself to make a phone call and only pretends to pick up the phone as he nears TaeHyung and NamJoon. In the second path, HoSeok jokes about eating too many snacks in high school thanks to SeokJin. SeokJin is a little distracted, but HoSeok notices that TaeHyung has snacks. “Huh? What’s that? I want some too!” SeokJin uses this opportunity to follow HoSeok and join their two friends. The paths converge with SeokJin overhearing TaeHyung and NamJoon’s conversation. TaeHyung says he doesn’t want to go home and asks if he can spend the night at the container. SeokJin remembers that TaeHyung often mentioned not wanting to go home in high school. Back then, they thought it was because he enjoyed being with the group, but now SeokJin knows that he was probably avoiding his father. He wonders why TaeHyung insists on going home on the 20th since he hates it there so much. Maybe learning the reason will be the key to stopping—and saving—TaeHyung. “Do whatever you want. You can sleep over,” NamJoon replies. TaeHyung brightens visibly at this answer. “Do you want to stay up doing something? We can play a card game, or…” HoSeok chimes in too that it sounds like a fun idea, but NamJoon says he has work tomorrow and can’t stay up late. “Let’s play until I have to go to bed.” TaeHyung’s phone vibrates. His face is already grim when he peers at it. “Actually, I think I have to go home.” Surprised, NamJoon asks why, but TaeHyung leaves without answering.

SeokJin leaves the gathering and follows TaeHyung, shadowing him carefully to avoid detection. He wonders what was in the text that changed TaeHyung’s mind and notices that they’re heading in the opposite direction of his home. After purchasing snacks at a nearby store, TaeHyung stands at a bus stop. SeokJin wonders if he’s waiting for someone since he lets several buses pass by. Eventually, a disembarking figure approaches TaeHyung. SeokJin recognizes her as Kim Eunhye, TaeHyung’s older sister. She asks why he is waiting for her since he said he’d be home late. “I was about to head in, so I thought I’d wait for you,” TaeHyung replies. “You should’ve gone ahead. Dad probably hasn’t had dinner yet…” she trails off. TaeHyung says he ordered delivery to the house for their dad. “Did you eat yet? Here.” He hands her a hot dog. SeokJin follows at a distance when they begin walking home. “Do you think dad will be drinking?” Eunhye wonders. “Is that even a question?” TaeHyung returns. They go back and forth about how he has been drinking less these days, goes to work every day, and doesn’t get as angry. “I hope things stay like this,” Eunhye finishes. “...It won’t last,” says TaeHyung. From his sigh, SeokJin senses how little TaeHyung trusts his father. He is surprised to hear that his father goes to work every day. In previous loops, he wondered if the cause for TaeHyung’s accident was an external force and went to observe his father’s workplace, but the man was not at the construction site and apparently hadn’t shown up for several days.

“I better check it out,” SeokJin decides. He calls Uncle JunHo, his father’s assistant, to ask for a favor. The two meet later in SeokJin’s bedroom. “You wanted to go on-site for practical training, right? This is the form you need,” says JunHo. He dismisses SeokJin’s thanks. “The Assemblyman seemed to be interested, too. He said he’ll be keeping an eye on things.” “Father said that?” SeokJin checks. “Make sure to use this opportunity to take a thorough look around. It’ll all be helpful to you later,” JunHo advises. (It’s helpful to know that Kim ChangJun is involved in some shady business with a construction company—this is revealed in The Notes 2.)

On 17 May, SeokJin visits the construction site. The foreman tells him that they’re busy and won’t have time to pay any special attention to him. SeokJin is glad for the lack of watchful eyes because it gives him the opportunity to observe TaeHyung’s father, Kim SungHoon. He is working silently, and SeokJin can’t see anything wrong on the surface. “Why does he get so violent at home?” he wonders. The foreman has apparently been watching too and yells at him. “Oi, you! Why aren’t you working?” Kim SungHoon points out that there isn’t any scaffolding. The foreman orders him to use a ladder instead. “You can’t get any work done being all careful.” Kim SungHoon tries to protest, but the foreman won’t hear it. “Are you going to pay for it if the schedule gets delayed, Mr. Kim? Hurry it up!” A look appears on Kim SungHoon’s face as though he’s been wronged, but he uses the ladder to begin working. SeokJin’s concern must be visible, for the foreman makes conversation with him. “Ahem. Don’t get the wrong idea. You might not be well aware of it yet, but it’s hard to always follow the rules on site. We can’t stay on schedule if we’re not flexible.” “I see…” murmurs SeokJin.

Another laborer shouts, drawing their attention: Kim SungHoon has fallen from the ladder and lies groaning on the ground. The foreman curses and rushes over, demanding how he could be so careless and shifting the blame to him for not paying attention. With a hurt back, Kim SungHoon cannot continue working. Trying to downplay the accident, the foreman gives him a few bills and advises him to stop by the hospital. TaeHyung’s father seems to have something to say, but he withers under the foreman’s stare and accepts the money in resignation. The foreman then assures SeokJin that this happens occasionally on a rough worksite and hands him money too. “You’ve worked hard, so here’s a little something for you to get a nice snack. Forget about everything that happened today. You know what I mean, right?” His brazen, selfish attitude angers SeokJin, but he smiles and leaves to follow Kim SungHoon. He is shocked to witness TaeHyung’s father purchase alcohol at a convenience store rather than go to a hospital. Worried about what will happen if he drinks while injured, SeokJin tries to call TaeHyung, but he doesn’t pick up. The episode ends with a small scene of TaeHyung finishing graffiti on a wall. He doesn’t know why he painted what he did, but the “dumb, ugly-looking graffiti” represents how he feels. He rubs the still-wet paint, yet it doesn’t go away. Picking a new color, TaeHyung sprays over the existing layers like he’s pouring and emptying out all of himself.

On 18 May, TaeHyung deals with his third rude customer of the day at the convenience store. The man demands why he must pay for a bag, even though the law has changed so they can no longer be given freely. TaeHyung either relents and gives him the bag without charge or stands firm. In the first path, he gives in, knowing that he probably won’t restrain his anger if they argue further and that he’ll have to cover the cost with his own paycheck. In the second path, the customer flings the money at him before leaving. TaeHyung clenches his fists and holds in his anger. The paths rejoin with him reflecting that this isn’t a good day. He greets the next customer and realizes that it’s SeokJin. “How come you’ve been stopping by so often these days?” TaeHyung asks while ringing up his bottled coffee. “Huh? Just. I have some things to take care of around here,” SeokJin answers. TaeHyung doesn’t know whether or not to believe him. SeokJin keeps asking how he’s doing, and it makes him a little uncomfortable. Today, SeokJin asks more meaningless questions as always, until: “How’s your father?” TaeHyung can’t stop himself from responding sharply. “Why do you ask about him?” Taken aback, SeokJin stammers, “N-No reason, really. I was just wondering if he was well… Uh… Never mind.”

A rich-looking father and son enter the store, interrupting the awkward silence. The way the father looks after his son and buys him what he wants to eat plunges TaeHyung into memories—he once felt the same as the boy about his own father. He remembers asking his dad who the baby is in the photograph we see at the beginning of the story. Kim SungHoon said it was him. “Don’t you think you look just like dad, TaeHyung?” An incoming phone call shakes TaeHyung out of his memories. The food deliverer informs him that no one is home to accept the order of hangover soup. “Huh? My father should be there…” TaeHyung confirms that the deliverer can leave the food outside the door, but he worries about his dad, who was passed out drunk and groaning in his sleep when he left for work. “SeokJin. I need to run home really quickly. Do you think you can watch the store for me?” TaeHyung leaves as soon as SeokJin gives a startled affirmative. The episode ends in SeokJin’s perspective. He’s curious and concerned about what is going on with TaeHyung, as he couldn’t overhear the phone call. Since leaving the store alone to follow TaeHyung may just create more trouble for him, SeokJin decides to stay put and look for clues.

Arriving home, TaeHyung brings the hangover soup inside and finds his father slouched in the corner. More soju bottles are lying out than when he left this morning. “Your lunch is here.” TaeHyung shakes him when there’s no response. “Wake up and eat.” Kim SungHoon mumbles something unintelligible, so TaeHyung nudges him again. His father shudders and cries out. “You bastard! I’d just gotten comfortable!” “Oh… I just wanted you to eat before the soup gets cold…” says TaeHyung. Kim SungHoon calls him a bastard for not listening. “I just told you to leave that damn thing here!” “Hah… Anyway, eat your lunch.” TaeHyung touches his shoulder again, and his father shoves him away. “The pain is killing me. Get lost, bastard!” TaeHyung yelps. The back of his neck burns from something he hit, but he doesn’t feel the pain over the rage brewing inside him. He can’t stand to look at his father for another second and kicks the door open to rush outside. “But of course. Why did I run over here to make sure that miserable geezer ate something?” he thinks bitterly. TaeHyung’s temper cools as he walks back to the store, and he remembers the pain in his neck. His fingers come away with blood when he touches the spot. He trudges onward, planning to bandage it at work. The memory of the rich father-son duo comes to mind: the man holding his son’s hand so tenderly, and the kid smiling brightly up at him. It makes TaeHyung even more miserable, and he fights to suppress the feelings that threaten to overflow.

Alone in the convenience store, SeokJin feels anxious not knowing when TaeHyung will return but decides to poke around, hoping to learn something like he did when observing NamJoon’s room at the gas station. He either looks through TaeHyung’s backpack or a full box near the register. The box is only a makeshift lost-and-found with customers’ forgotten items. Despite his discomfort at rooting through someone’s belongings, SeokJin finds the crumpled photograph of TaeHyung as a baby with his father in the bag. “He wouldn’t be carrying it around if he truly hated his father. But it wouldn’t be crumpled if he liked him, either. Is it… love and hate?” SeokJin wonders. He also finds a post-it stuck on the counter with a note left by HoSeok: “I packed this for myself but Auntie invited me over for dinner. There are two patties inside. Make sure to enjoy it and write me a full review at least one page long!” SeokJin realizes they’ve spent all this time looking out for each other. He’s glad to see the signs of HoSeok taking care of TaeHyung and TaeHyung being grateful enough to keep the note.

When TaeHyung returns, SeokJin is concerned to see blood from a cut on his neck. “Are you okay, TaeHyung? What happened to your neck?” But TaeHyung avoids looking at him and doesn’t answer, instead putting on a bandage and continuing work. SeokJin ignores a call from Uncle JunHo, deciding it’s more important to look after TaeHyung. “Are you sure you can stay here all day like this, SeokJin? Aren’t there people at home wondering where you are?” TaeHyung speaks up at that moment. SeokJin smiles sheepishly. But with the incident looming ahead on the 20th and no solutions yet to avert it, he has no choice but to stick close to him. After TaeHyung’s shift ends, SeokJin asks what he’s doing now. The red seeping through the bandage worries him. “I’m just… gonna go paint some graffiti,” says TaeHyung. He reluctantly agrees to allow SeokJin to tag along. His phone vibrates before they leave. “Sis? What’s going on? What? The emergency room? Why is Dad there? Hold on. I’ll be right there!” TaeHyung runs out. SeokJin catches up to offer him a ride, which he accepts after a moment’s hesitation.

The perspective switches to TaeHyung when they arrive at the hospital and find his sister waiting with an uneasy expression. She thinks that their father was injured at work. When she tapped him lightly to wake him up for dinner, it caused him a lot of pain. TaeHyung remembers the incident at lunchtime and wonders if he felt like that earlier, too. Eunhye notices SeokJin, and TaeHyung introduces them, noticing that her hand seems to make her uncomfortable. “Did you hurt yourself, sis? What happened to your hand?” “Oh, it’s nothing. I… tripped before we came to the hospital.” TaeHyung knows she’s lying but doesn’t argue. He pretends not to see her injuries, and she pretends not to see the one on his neck—like they always do. Eunhye voices concern about the high bill, which the hospital wants them to pay before discharging their father tomorrow. “The company will take care of it if he was injured at work,” SeokJin assures. TaeHyung finds the construction foreman’s number in his dad’s cell phone and calls him. Reporting the situation, he asks if his father’s injured back can be processed as an industrial accident. The foreman denies that they can help. “How can we cover an accident where Kim SungHoon was drunk on the job and failed to follow safety protocol?” The foreman informs him that he already gave Kim SungHoon money to see a doctor. “There’s nothing else to say, so I’m going to go. And I’m telling you—don’t try to pull anything.” TaeHyung swears when the call ends. Eunhye wonders if the foreman is mistaken because she doesn’t think their father drank that day. TaeHyung purses his lips shut instead of replying, filled with rage at the patronizing foreman and their incompetent father. He hates that he can’t say his dad isn’t the kind of person to drink on the job, and his body shakes with indescribable emotion.

“They won’t cover it as a workplace accident?” SeokJin asks, the perspective shifting to him. He knows the foreman is lying but is unsure how to help TaeHyung and his despairing sister. He could pay the hospital fee himself, but that was counterproductive when he tried it for NamJoon in an earlier loop. Noticing a text from Uncle JunHo asking where he is, SeokJin postpones his decision for later and bids TaeHyung a quick farewell. “I’m sure there’s a way to take care of all of this. Don’t worry too much. Take care of your dad. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

On 19 May, TaeHyung and his sister exit the hospital room with twin sighs. Their father called the foreman back after hearing about the first conversation and let loose, only hanging up when his supervisor agreed to speak in person at the hospital. He also demanded alcohol all night and only recently fell asleep. TaeHyung notices that Eunhye looks exhausted and suggests that they take a nap before the foreman arrives that evening. Later, the foreman arrives with some workers and a box of drinks. TaeHyung stands in the corner, not wanting to butt in since this is his father’s business. The foreman asks how Kim SungHoon is doing, advises him to rest, and then adds, “We’re here to say that you shouldn’t bring up compensation since it’s your fault you were injured.” The foreman accuses him of drinking on the job, and the coworkers Kang and Seo nervously agree. Kim SungHoon argues back about being denied the scaffolding and drops the box of drinks, a “token of their sincerity,” on the floor. While the other works avert their gaze, the foreman looks down on him and clucks his tongue. “You bastard! You call yourself a man?!” Kim SungHoon roars. The foreman bristles. “What? Bastard? Watch your mouth punk!”

Eunhye tries to intervene, pleading for her father to calm down and apologizing on his behalf. The foreman accepts her actions like it’s the obvious thing for her to do. His arrogant attitude reminds TaeHyung of how he probably deals with his underlings. “Sir. My father wasn’t drunk,” he speaks up. The foreman’s arrogant air dissipates. “What are you saying? I have witnesses here.” TaeHyung explains that his dad did not drink that day or the previous one. The foreman scoffs. “Look at this kid. Where’d you learn your manners? He probably drank on the way to work even if he didn’t at home! Who do you think you are, raising your voice like that?” TaeHyung’s hands tremble with rage at the injustice, but he has nothing to retort. Suddenly, SeokJin appears. “I also saw everything. Remember me? I was there on site for practical training that day. I watched him work and he definitely wasn’t drunk.” The foreman grows flustered as SeokJin reveals the truth of the site’s dangerous work process and makes it clear that he coerced Kim SungHoon into not following the correct procedure. He glares between SeokJin and TaeHyung. “I don’t know how you both are putting up this united front… But you think it’s going to change things? We already paid him. It’s a done deal. Understood?” Fuming, the foreman leaves with the other workers in tow. “It’s alright now, TaeHyung.” SeokJin gently taps his shoulder. TaeHyung realizes how tense he has been when he loosens his grip and sees little crescents of his fingernails cut into his palms. (His wounded palms are a recurring motif.)

The perspective shifts to SeokJin while TaeHyung stares blankly at his hands. He decides to come clean about his payment of Kim SungHoon’s hospital bill, since the problem with NamJoon was that he paid it secretly. “You can think of it as borrowing—” “Thanks, SeokJin,” TaeHyung interrupts. “I’ll pay back all of it. Thank you.” SeokJin is a little shocked by his response—it is the first time he’s heard “thank you” from TaeHyung. He hopes that this is the beginning of solving TaeHyung’s problems and bids farewell for the day. Outside the hospital, SeokJin runs into HoSeok, who correctly guesses that he came to visit TaeHyung. “How’d you know?” “I stopped by TaeHyung’s work and didn’t see him, so I called him right away,” HoSeok explains. SeokJin expects him to ask about Kim SungHoon, but instead HoSeok worries about his friend first. “Is TaeHyung alright? He must’ve been so shocked. He cares a lot about his dad…” “TaeHyung does?” SeokJin checks. “Yeah. Even though he says that he doesn’t want to go home all the time, he always makes sure his dad gets a real meal every day. Even if he just eats convenience store snacks himself.” This is new information to SeokJin, who wonders if this is why TaeHyung is determined to go home on the 20th. HoSeok seems more familiar with TaeHyung’s sincerity than anyone else. SeokJin is still braced to explain how he knew about Kim SungHoon’s injury, but HoSeok is more focused on contacting TaeHyung and continues on towards the hospital. Overcome with exhaustion as his tension ebbs, SeokJin trudges home to plan his next move.

Later on 19 May, TaeHyung helps his father walk home after he is discharged from the hospital. He is grateful that SeokJin paid the bill but even more so that he intervened to verify Kim SungHoon’s unjust treatment. “SeokJin might be a better person than I thought.” No words are exchanged as TaeHyung supports his father. His arm is thin, but the weight that presses down on him is burdensome. “It’s the weight of the wheel that I can’t escape. The weight of reality—that I’m always going to be responsible for my father. A person that I wish I could let go, but can’t, and the contradictory feelings of hating my father but wanting to protect him.” In a perspective switch, SeokJin watches at a distance with bated breath. Even though TaeHyung seems accustomed to helping his father walk, Kim SungHoon raises his voice every time he almost falls. SeokJin guesses that TaeHyung is adamant about going home on the 20th because he is worried about his father, who is just out of the hospital, but all he sees is violence against his sister when he arrives. “I’m going to stop it this time, no matter what,” he vows.

On 20 May, SeokJin stands at the bus stop and touches the graffiti for which TaeHyung was arrested the previous night. (It’s the “I’m Fine” message depicted at the same location in the Highlight Reel.) He wonders what TaeHyung felt when he painted it and feels uneasy that he may not be handling this sequence correctly. SeokJin shakes away this premature doubt. There’s one thing that has changed from the previous loop: him. He has protected Kim SungHoon after his injury, paid the hospital bill, and built up enough credibility with TaeHyung to earn his thanks. This time, he reassures himself, his words will get through to his friend. Later, SeokJin follows TaeHyung when he leaves the police station. They walk in silence, but TaeHyung does not push him away or ask why he’s following. “Thanks for walking me here, SeokJin,” he speaks up when they arrive at his house. SeokJin waits a few moments before heading inside after him, entering a familiar situation he has seen far too many times: TaeHyung lunging toward his father, who looms near Eunhye. “TaeHyung! No!” SeokJin dashes to grab his arm. “Let go!” TaeHyung snarls and flails. SeokJin holds tighter, pleading for him to calm down. TaeHyung yells and shoves him away. SeokJin slams into something and falls, pain blooming in his skull. TaeHyung spins around with an expression of shock. The voices calling SeokJin grow fainter, and his vision blurs. “Tae… Hyung…” The glass shatters, marking another failed loop and concluding the story. (This is not the first time TaeHyung has caused SeokJin grave or mortal injury during his intervention: in the Save Me webtoon, he accidentally stabbed SeokJin with the broken bottle instead of his father.)

Nightmare: Epilogue

Throughout the <I’M FINE> series, we have witnessed SeokJin’s trials and failures in the earlier time loops. These experiences culminate in the Epilogue, titled “Nightmare,” as in The Notes 1. This arc spans his efforts to save each of his friends between 11 April and 22 May rather than focusing on one or two characters. SeokJin’s decisions and their consequences here closely follow The Notes 1, so now we have a more detailed picture of his journey between the Save Me webtoon and the first book. The Epilogue fills in some gaps and provides greater depth to these events. For the sake of clearer context, I have still summarized the moments that parallel The Notes 1.

On 11 April Year 22, SeokJin opens his eyes to the familiar bedroom ceiling, the events of the previous loop replaying in his mind. Will he be able to save his friends this time? Uncertainty, horror, and the fresh pain of failure plague him, but he looks at the photo of his friends by the sea. Once, he believed that saving them would be straightforward. But while obsessing over only the problems that he could see, SeokJin lost his way and had to learn from his mistakes. The “signal fires” that helped guide him back were the times spent with his friends, the moments they began to truly understand each other, and the memories he wants to treasure. As he leaves his room, he reflects: “We’re all connected together by a single string, and we’re fated to save one another. And the person to finally put an end to all of this… has to be me.”

In his car, SeokJin encounters a scene at the school crosswalk that he always runs into around this time. He sees a downcast-looking JungKook crossing the street among a group of students. The player is given an option to get out of the car to greet him or pass him by. Regardless of the decision, SeokJin knows that he can’t let his emotions steer his actions. In a previous loop (depicted in JungKook’s arc), he brought JungKook to see the cherry blossoms blooming on the university campus. SeokJin wonders if the JungKook from that loop enjoyed it at least a little. But ultimately, it was just a day and JungKook ended up alone with nothing changed. Not wanting to repeat his past mistakes, SeokJin drives by without stopping.

Later that night, SeokJin pulls into Naeri gas station. NamJoon greets him with a now-familiar look of surprise. “Oh. SeokJin?” “It’s been a while.” SeokJin is determined to make this the last time they repeat this conversation. (As mentioned in part 1, this sequence parallels their moment at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV.) As they move to a corner of the station to continue their conversation, the perspective shifts to NamJoon. Something seems a little weird to him, and SeokJin looks like he has a lot to say, but he manages to gloss over it. NamJoon is about to invite him to the meetup with the other guys after work, but his boss yells for him to do his job. An expensive foreign car pulls up to the gas pump, and the customer drops the money on the ground when NamJoon reaches for it. “Ah, butterfingers. What are you doing? Not gonna pick that up?” the man sneers. The player is presented the choice to pick up the money or not. In both paths, NamJoon unconsciously clenches his fists. “You don’t want it?” asks the customer. The paths converge with SeokJin easily picking up the bills and handing them back to the driver. “You dropped this.” Hands shaking, NamJoon is mortified by the situation that caused SeokJin to react, yet his friend continues to stand there between him and the customer. The man demands who he is, but SeokJin advises, “You must be busy… So you should leave.” Out of steam, the customer drives off. NamJoon thanks SeokJin. “It’s nothing. What were you going to tell me earlier?” NamJoon forces his mouth to move. “Ah. I’m meeting up with TaeHyung and HoSeok today after work. Do you want to come with me?”

Back in SeokJin’s perspective, these are the words he’s been waiting for. Nerves dry his mouth, but he tries to speak naturally and inquires about the others. NamJoon doesn’t really keep in touch with them, but offers to call HoSeok, who still talks to YoonGi. SeokJin knows that YoonGi will call JungKook after hearing from HoSeok—this is how he saves JungKook tonight. His phone buzzes with a call from his father. “Oh, I’m sorry… But I need to leave.” NamJoon’s expression reflects disappointment yet understanding. “That’s too bad. Let’s hang out another time.” “Yeah. Tell the guys hello for me.” SeokJin turns back as he arrives at his car. “NamJoon. If we can get everyone together… Let’s all go to the ocean.” NamJoon looks puzzled by the suggestion. “The ocean?” SeokJin smiles in lieu of an explanation.

The third episode begins with JungKook fighting a group of thugs in a covered alley. (The date is unspecified, but this is a continuation of the night of 11 April.) They kick his stomach and spit on the ground as they walk away, a sight that reinvigorates him even though he can barely sit up. He either says something to provoke them or hurls his bag at them. Riled up, they beat him again as he laughs, vision blurring. They’re gone by the time everything comes back into focus. JungKook got what he wanted: he deliberately provoked them, and when he laughed, they called him crazy and hit him harder. He watches a breeze flatten a tuft of grass in the pavement, just like him. JungKook forces himself to laugh again because he’s afraid he may cry. Where does he go now? He feels like a ghost at home: he’s never a priority for his mom, and dealing with his stepfather is a pain. JungKook closes his eyes, hoping that when he opens them, he won’t be here.

The scene that follows appears to be a memory of 7 April, although it is not specified as such and is written in present tense. (This encounter occurs in The Notes 1 as well as episode 4 of JungKook’s story.) While wandering the streets at night, JungKook is drawn by a familiar piano tune to a music shop with broken showroom windows. He sees YoonGi, for the first time in two years, playing within and looking like he will crumble at any moment. JungKook can’t muster up the courage to follow when he leaves and instead sits at the piano. The keys feel cold like no one has touched them. By memory, he stumbles through the song that YoonGi played this night and back in the classroom hideout. YoonGi appears beside him and corrects the notes like he did in their school days.

The story cuts to YoonGi in the present, possibly in the classroom. He ignores his ringing phone partly because of his drunken stupor and partly because he doesn’t want to talk, but he finally relents and answers. HoSeok offers that NamJoon wants to hang out later. “I’m not going,” YoonGi says immediately. “Hey, don’t be like that. SeokJin’s here, too. Do you want to talk to JungKook? I called him earlier, but he didn’t pick up.” HoSeok encourages YoonGi to call instead because JungKook may pick up for him. YoonGi hangs up, thoughts complicated as he remembers a time when he watched JungKook play piano. “Looking back, that kid was my shadow. I couldn’t ignore him, even if he wasn’t speaking to me. And I kept looking out for him… because it seemed like he’d fall apart if he was ignored.” He considers leaving it be, but his fingers are already dialing.

The perspective switches again: on a rooftop overlooking Songju, JungKook grows dizzy and stumbles. Darkness grasps his ankles, and his mind empties. “I don’t want to leave anything behind. This will just be the end.” At that moment, his phone rings. He sees YoonGi’s name, and everything sharpens, as though he’s awoken from a dream. “What took you so long to pick up?” asks YoonGi. When JungKook doesn’t answer, he continues, “Everyone’s meeting up later. Do you want to go?” After a pause, JungKook says, “YoonGi. Please come get me.” (From the thug beating to the rooftop, this is how his 11 April entry plays out in The Notes 1, but it ends before their phone conversation.) Waiting for YoonGi down on the street, JungKook recalls when they all used to hang out in the classroom. “I have a place to go. People to be with. Right now, that’s enough.”

On 2 May, SeokJin sneaks into YoonGi’s workroom, which is filled with oil-soaked papers as though he intended to set it on fire. (It’s dark, so as the later part of the episode occurs in the daytime, it must be past midnight or in the early morning.) There is no foolproof way to save YoonGi since he acts unpredictably between the loops, but SeokJin has determined that YoonGi needs someone who can tie him to the world—someone whom he won’t push away. Once, NamJoon told SeokJin that JungKook still carried the photo they took at the beach. (The photo depicted in the game is the one of the boys on the wall by the sea.) While NamJoon probably relayed this to show that JungKook hasn’t forgotten about SeokJin, it stirs a different memory for him. In high school when they ditched and went to the beach, hunting for a boulder that supposedly made dreams come true, SeokJin noticed JungKook ask YoonGi an important question while their voices were drowned out by construction noise. He has now realized that both JungKook and YoonGi have the same desperation in their eyes. JungKook knows that YoonGi is like him: a person who needs a string to hold him here. Therefore, JungKook is the key to saving YoonGi.

SeokJin places his copy of the photograph next to the mirror in the workroom, hoping it will lead to saving them both. Before he can leave, footsteps grow closer. Flustered, he chooses to either explain himself honestly or hide. In both paths, YoonGi stumbles inside and collapses on the sofa, too drunk to notice that someone else is in the room. In the second path, some extra information is presented when SeokJin notices a little water dish and paper cup with breadcrumbs as he hides beside the piano. “He must’ve looked after it again.” In another loop, SeokJin saw a small, weak bird that got mistakenly trapped in the workroom. YoonGi looked after it, most likely thinking of JungKook. (This particular episode is called Small Bird, so the title may only be meaningful to players who choose this path or are familiar with the bird from The Notes 1.)

SeokJin escapes undetected while YoonGi sleeps. Later in the day, he watches the workroom from his car. The most difficult part starts now: JungKook must follow the hints SeokJin has left to save YoonGi. After staring up at the second floor for a while with an unhappy expression, JungKook seems to make up his mind and enters the building. The story cuts briefly to YoonGi’s perspective. In the workroom, the mirror shatters. (The reason is unspecified, so we are left to wonder if a confrontation unfolded like the one depicted in the Run MV and implied in The Notes 1, or if something else occurred.) Dizzy, YoonGi falters but manages to stand up. (Again, standing up from what? Possibly because JungKook hit him.) “YoonGi…” JungKook is rooted to the spot in surprise. YoonGi runs, leaving him behind. Back in his perspective, SeokJin starts the car as soon as he sees JungKook dash out of the building. He hopes that leaving “a sign” will guide JungKook to the correct motel. (In The Notes 1, it is a bloody tissue that SeokJin drops by the entrance gate because YoonGi fled his workroom with busted lips. The game episode closely follows how this scenario proceeds in Notes 1, so I’m not sure why it is so cryptic around the details implying that a fight occurred between YoonGi and JungKook.) Inside the motel (once again matching the I Need U MV), YoonGi lights the bedsheets on fire. He regrets having JungKook by his side because the people close to him get hurt. The memories of his childhood burn along with the flames: fragments of the day he arrived home and found it collapsing in a fire. YoonGi hears JungKook shouting. “I’m sure… He’ll be sad because of me. But he won’t be unhappy anymore,” he thinks. JungKook shouts for him to get up, and YoonGi finally looks at him. His last view of the room encompasses the red flames, the air wavy with heat, and JungKook’s crumpled face. The episode ends with sirens playing over a black screen.

Episode 5, “Connecting Threads,” picks up on 12 May with SeokJin preparing to set events in motion for saving his next pair of friends. At the hospital, he waits for JiMin to show up and overhears a conversation between a nurse and doctor. If SeokJin stays where he is, they notice him and postpone their discussion, but if he steps out of sight, they continue. The nurse mentions “patient Park JiMin” who has “transferred down from the 9th floor.” She reports that he keeps roaming the hallways at night and wonders if they should stop him “just in case.” “He’ll be headed back up in about three days or so. Just leave him be. If it really bothers you, check with them,” advises the doctor. SeokJin moves to his precalculated spot when they leave, planning to lead JiMin to the stairs so that he’ll run into HoSeok on his way down. In his perspective, JiMin is troubled by his stiff wrist as he waits for the elevator. A familiar voice suddenly calling his name draws him to the stairwell, but the light makes it difficult to see its owner.

The story cuts to HoSeok wrapping up a consultation with the same doctor from earlier. The doctor states that they haven’t noticed any huge issues and that he’ll be discharged soon. “Do you have any discomfort still?” “Nope, I’m fine!” HoSeok answers energetically and even strikes an exaggerated pose, feeling that he needs to. “Please take care to avoid any future collapses,” the doctor adds. This comment makes HoSeok either recall the last time he collapses or the last moment he spent with his mom. In the first memory, he collapses on the bridge as he thinks about his sick Auntie leaving him alone after she has always been at his side. In the second, he stands at the merry-go-round and wonders if his mom will be standing there when he finishes counting. “Sir… Sir? Are you alright?” The doctor’s questioning shakes HoSeok out of the past. He wants to say hello to JiMin before he leaves the hospital, but JiMin’s bed has been empty for a while. Worried, HoSeok heads to the elevator to look for him. A woman dressed in a long skirt and hat passes by with her child. “Mom!” Convinced that she’s his mother, HoSeok chases after her. He shoves past people, breathing ragged and heart pounding. Afraid to lose her, he either yells out again or goes to the stairs. The results are ultimately the same because she doesn’t respond to his shouts and disappears into the stairwell. HoSeok skips steps down the stairs in his haste. “Mom!” His foot suddenly slips, throwing his weight forward. He flails, but there’s nothing to grab onto—and suddenly, his fall is arrested by someone grabbing his arm. “HoSeok?” “JiMin? How are you here…?” JiMin looks equally surprised. HoSeok realizes it’s obvious that the woman isn’t his mom. Though he can’t remember her face anymore, he still can’t let her go. “Are you alright, HoSeok?” JiMin asks. HoSeok figures that JiMin doesn’t inquire about what he was doing or why because he already knows. “I wonder if JiMin is like me… living trapped in the past. If he’s unable to get better and move on, stuck inside the memories that bind him…” “JiMin,” HoSeok says aloud. “Let’s get out of here.”

From JiMin’s perspective now, he notices that everything about HoSeok in this moment is different from normal. “Get out of here?” JiMin echoes. Outside is unfamiliar and scary, and he knows that even if he escapes the hospital, he will still have to return some day. “JiMin, I’ll come back for you.” HoSeok leaves without waiting for an answer. Not wanting to say goodbye, JiMin follows him secretly as he’s discharged from the hospital. He stops at the line where the hallway ends up on the ninth floor, watching the bright sunlight filter in through the open door. JiMin turns away, believing that the place to which he needs to return isn’t outside but the ninth floor. “Because… I’m a patient.” The rest of episode 6 follows the events in his 15 May Year 22 entry of The Notes 1, with only minor dialogue changes. HoSeok pulls JiMin out of his hospital bed the night before he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward. SeokJin and NamJoon meet them in the elevator, while JungKook, TaeHyung, and YoonGi are waiting for them in the first floor lobby. A nurse finds them and sees through YoonGi’s flimsy excuse that they’re having a birthday party. Throwing snack bags and plastic bottles, they all run toward the exit. (This sequence is likely the one depicted in the Euphoria MV, although in the video it’s staged during the daytime instead of at night.) JiMin unconsciously slows as he nears the invisible boundary in the hallway, but HoSeok’s urging grants him the courage to cross the line. Passing through the door, he draws in a breath of fresh air and feels on the verge of crying.

The beginning of episode 7 follows SeokJin’s preparations to prevent TaeHyung’s incident on 20 May in the same fashion as The Notes 1. He waits at the park on the hill behind TaeHyung’s apartment building until HoSeok escorts TaeHyung home from his night at the police station. With careful timing, SeokJin calls HoSeok after he sees the two part ways and asks him to invite TaeHyung to their beach trip in two days. HoSeok turns around toward TaeHyung’s apartment.

The next sequence provides more details of the confrontation (and notably unfolds a little differently than what is depicted in the I Need U MV). TaeHyung arrives home to a familiar stale odor of mold and stench of alcohol. “Where the hell have you been all night?!” TaeHyung turns to see his father’s bloodshot eyes and his sister standing behind him, face swollen. Defiance surges through him, but the desperation in Eunhye’s eyes roots him to the spot. “TaeHyung, tell Dad you’re sorry and go to your room.” TaeHyung either apologizes, holding his anger in, or tries to go straight to his room. In both paths, Kim SungHoon yells that a beating should set him straight. He seizes TaeHyung by the collar. Something bursts and rages inside him. “What have I done wrong?! You’re the one who needs to get things straight!” His father stammers in shock, “W-what did you say?!” while his sister calls his name in warning. TaeHyung chooses to shake him off or hold still. In the first path, he shoves his father to the floor. “Why are you doing this? How long? How long do we have to keep doing this?!” In the second path, Kim SungHoon snarls that he has a lot of nerve to look him in the eye and strikes his cheek. “Why do I need a beating?” TaeHyung thinks.

The paths converge with Eunhye begging their father to stop. The voice continues thundering in TaeHyung’s head: “Why does my sister need a beating? How long are you going to do this?” “You two are a double dose of pain in my ass today!” Kim SungHoon swings at Eunhye, who has thrown herself between them, and she sways at the rough blow. The injustice of it all stokes TaeHyung’s rage. “What have we done wrong? Why do we have to live in fear like this?” Heart pounding, he notices that the cold bottle he’s somehow picked up grows warmer from the heat of his hand. He roars and charges forward. A shattering sound plays over a black screen, and someone cries, “No—! TaeHyung, stop!” TaeHyung comes to his senses. HoSeok is hugging his midsection, his sister is crying, and his father is nowhere to be seen. He wonders whose blood is on his hand. HoSeok stands there silently, looking like he has a lot to say but holding back. “I’m sorry, HoSeok. I’m okay… So you can go now,” TaeHyung says, calm voice belying his inner turmoil. “I want to cry, to scream, to kick, break, shatter everything. I want to fall apart, but I can’t do any of the things I want.” The world spins as he closes his eyes. Mind blank, TaeHyung craves NamJoon’s presence and wants to talk to him—to tell him that he almost killed his father.

The eighth and final episode, “The Pier,” closely follows the version of 22 May in The Notes 1, with the addition of SeokJin’s perspective providing greater depth to the events. The boys make it to the same beach they visited in high school. The observation platform strikes TaeHyung as familiar. As the sun sets, he remembers this all occurring in a dream, except that SeokJin climbs the platform instead of him. Atop the platform, SeokJin is fearful and full of emotions. Memories flash by of their suffering and loneliness, his failures and desire to give up as the misfortunes repeated. He is relieved that TaeHyung does not follow him. At nightfall, they head to where they’re staying. (In The Notes 1, this location is simply called their lodging, and in The Notes 2 it is referred to as a lodge by the beach that SeokJin reserved under his name. In the game, the room appears like the one in the Run MV party scenes (0’57”, 3’00”, etc.), down to the same string lights and sconces—more on this in the Additional Commentary section below.) As the others dance and laugh, SeokJin realizes that this is the first time they’ve made it this far. “It’s something I hoped so desperately for… and a day I thought would never come. We were all lonely once. We hid our own scars and lived through it alone. But it’s different now. We’re all by each other’s sides. We’ll never be alone again.” Despite these thoughts, he has a nagging feeling because he hasn’t told them the truth. SeokJin is afraid of their reactions, but this will be the only way “to really see them properly.” He announces, “I have something to say.” Only TaeHyung turns to look at him through the chaos.

TaeHyung balls up his prickling hand, wondering if this is about the dream he asked SeokJin about several days earlier. (The location of this conversation is unspecified in The Notes 1, but the game provides a flashback shot of it at the bus stop.) His frustration grows when SeokJin begins to mention high school instead. TaeHyung interrupts sharply, believing that SeokJin is still cowardly avoiding the truth. “Are you talking about when you spied for the principal in high school and told him everything we were up to? Or were you going to mention how, because of that… YoonGi got expelled?!” The mood in the room chills. “I’m sorry.” SeokJin drops his head, while the others look away or stare in surprise. But TaeHyung doesn’t want to be unhappy without knowing why, even if the truth is worse than the nightmare. “Is that all? Or are you hiding more from us?”

The perspective switches back to SeokJin. He guesses that TaeHyung is asking about the dream but can’t reveal that the tragedies he experienced were real, believing that no one else should have to suffer with that knowledge. NamJoon approaches and tries to calm TaeHyung, but TaeHyung pushes him away. “Stay out of this, NamJoon. Why does it matter to you? You’re not my brother.” (In the album Note from Her and as a flashback in The Notes 1, TaeHyung overheard NamJoon talking on the phone while they walked to their lodging. NamJoon was speaking to his parents about his younger brother being old enough to take care of himself, but TaeHyung apparently took this to heart as something about himself. It hurt and angered him deeply.) “TaeHyung, I’m sorry,” SeokJin attempts to plead with him. “Stop it, Kim TaeHyung!” NamJoon warns. TaeHyung demands again that SeokJin explain everything. The interrogation unleashes all the memories of his friends’ tragedies that he has tried to forget. SeokJin feels like his nightmares are going to become reality, and his mind goes blank as TaeHyung and NamJoon continue to argue. “I repeated so many moments of suffering… for you… Why are you doing this to me?! I only wanted to be able to laugh together.” A little flame grows within SeokJin, an indescribable feeling cresting like a wave. This is what his countless attempts have led to? “What’s so great about being together?” Shaking off NamJoon’s arm, TaeHyung yells, “Who are we to one another? We’re all alone in the end!” “Alone…” The thing SeokJin has desperately been holding onto breaks away, and the shaking in his hands now consumes his entire body.

SeokJin hits TaeHyung. He remembers TaeHyung’s sudden jump off the seaside platform—a time he thought he saved them all. “I even kept that from happening—and he says we’re all alone in the end? The hopes I had for all of us to be happy, and for us to face coming days together… It all feels like it was for nothing. I thought I left my repeating misfortunes behind me, but I now see them again, taunting me from just ahead.” This concludes the Epilogue and the <I’M FINE> series. Notably, the glass does not break, suggesting that this loop continues from this event (as it does in The Notes 1) without yet resetting.

Additional Commentary

The only point I want to touch on here is the depiction of the boys’ lodging on 22 May after their beach trip and its potential implications. In The Notes 1, this location is simply called their lodging, and in The Notes 2 it is referred to as a lodge by the beach that SeokJin reserved under his name. In the game, the room appears like the one in the Run MV party scenes (0’57”, 3’00”, etc.), down to the same string lights and sconces.

As a standalone MV set, this location felt (to me) more metaphorical than concrete. It’s introduced after NamJoon opens the door of a train’s shipping container, a little film editing trick as though it’s a world inside—and it does feel like a space away from the real world where the boys are free to let loose, revel in their youth, and be themselves. While it seemed to serve as a more glamorous substitute for NamJoon’s shipping container where they often gathered, this location also appeared to stand in for the location of JungKook and YoonGi’s confrontation (2’24”-2’55”). An altercation between them is heavily implied in SeokJin’s 2 May entry from The Notes 1, but it occurs in YoonGi’s workroom. Since Run is an MV rather than one of the short films, which always present BU events and locations more literally than their song counterparts, it doesn’t seem too unusual that these sets are condensed to one in this video. YoonGi’s workroom isn’t portrayed until Highlight Reel, so we can kind of excuse one of the earliest MVs for artistic license.

However… the inclusion of this location in the game considerably changes the circumstances! Since it is both canon and animated, the creators had the ability to design the settings as they are truly intended to appear (within the general limitations of the game’s engine and visual style). It must have been a very deliberate choice that led to the reuse of the Run MV’s set for the 22 May beach lodging. (For what it’s worth, I have always interpreted SeokJin’s and TaeHyung’s fight in the Japanese MV for Blood Sweat & Tears to represent the fallout of that night, and that is staged in a different set.)

To further complicate matters, a date has been explicitly attached to one of the scenes in Run because it is matched shot-for-shot in the BU Story trailer Map of the Soul—and it is neither 2 or 22 May.

24 July Year 22 is not reached in <I’M FINE>, but in the Notes, this is the date the boys plan to gather at NamJoon’s container to celebrate JungKook’s discharge from the hospital. So far in The Notes 1 and 2 (and various album-accompanying Notes from MotS: Persona and 7), this event has hardly manifested as the celebration it is intended to be. This particular shot maps a little better to the circumstances in Notes 2, as not all of them even show up in Notes 1. But again, this gathering occurs at the container—so what, and where, is this shot really depicting? How is it linked to the beach lodging they visit in some loops on 22 May?

BU has been in development for years now, so I believe there is intentionality behind this location’s depiction in the game, even if it raises more questions than it answers. Perhaps it is foreshadowing a very different version of 24 July in which they return again to the beach lodging. This is my best guess for now, and it’s exciting to think that there are still hints embedded in the older MVs for aspects of the plot that have yet to be fully revealed in The Notes.

What do you think? Did you notice the location parallels if you played the game, and did they inspire any new theories for you?

----------------

As mentioned above, the following “tl;dr” commentary summarizes the parenthetical notes I provided in the summaries in case you want to review them on their own.

Heart’s Distance — tl;dr commentary

In the opening cutscene, TaeHyung’s photograph of his father holding him as a baby looks similar to the one he holds at 1’48” in the HYYH On Stage: Prologue short film.

During the gathering at NamJoon’s container after everyone freed JiMin from the hospital, SeokJin asks, “How long has it been since we’ve all laughed together?” This is a reference to the recurring phrase “we can laugh when we’re together” present throughout the Notes and occasionally this game.

On 19 May, TaeHyung is arrested for vandalism while painting graffiti on the streets. The bus stop depicted in the shot is the same as the one in Highlight Reel.

In the shot in the game illustrating TaeHyung’s choice on 20 May that he “can’t take back,” he approaches his father from behind and the sound of glass occurs on a cut to black. We know from the I Need U MV and Save Me webtoon that he fatally stabs his father.

When SeokJin asks Uncle JunHo for a favor to visit a construction site for practical training, JunHo expresses that SeokJin’s father seems to be interested, too. “Make sure to use this opportunity to take a thorough look around. It’ll all be helpful to you later,” JunHo advises. It’s helpful to know that Assemblyman Kim ChangJun is involved in some shady business with a construction company—this is revealed in The Notes 2.

After the foreman leaves his father’s hospital room, TaeHyung realizes how tense he has been when he loosens his grip and sees little crescents of his fingernails cut into his palms. His wounded palms are a recurring motif.

On 20 May, SeokJin stands at the bus stop and touches the graffiti for which TaeHyung was arrested the previous night. It’s the “I’m Fine” message depicted at the same location in the Highlight Reel.

The story ends with SeokJin losing consciousness after TaeHyung shoved him away and he slammed into something, marking another failed attempt while preventing the homicide. This is not the first time TaeHyung has caused SeokJin grave or mortal injury during his intervention: in the Save Me webtoon, he accidentally stabbed SeokJin with the broken bottle instead of his father.

Nightmare: Epilogue — tl;dr commentary

SeokJin and NamJoon’s conversation when they reunite at the gas station on the night of 11 April begins with 2 familiar phrases: “Oh. SeokJin?” “It’s been a while.” As mentioned in part 1, this sequence parallels their moment at the end of the Blood Sweat & Tears Japanese version MV.

In episode 3, the scene of JungKook finding YoonGi playing piano at the music shop appears to be a memory of 7 April, although it is not explicitly stated as such. This encounter occurs in The Notes 1 as well as episode 4 of JungKook’s story.

From JungKook’s beating at the hands of thugs to the rooftop, this is how his 11 April entry plays out in The Notes 1, but it ends before his phone conversation with YoonGi.

SeokJin reflects on a time NamJoon told him that JungKook still carried the photo they took at the beach. The photo depicted in the game is the one of the boys on the wall by the sea.

Episode 4 is called “Small Bird,” yet the bird is only referenced in one of the choice’s paths (SeokJin hides behind the piano in YoonGi’s workroom). The title may be more meaningful to players who choose this path or are familiar with the bird from The Notes 1.

The game is even more cryptic than The Notes 1 about JungKook and YoonGi’s apparent altercation on 2 May in his workroom. When the perspective cuts to YoonGi, the mirror has already been shattered. The reason is unspecified, so we are left to wonder if a confrontation unfolded like the one depicted in the Run MV and implied in The Notes 1, or if something else occurred. The “sign” that SeokJin leaves to guide JungKook to the correct motel is also unspecified, but in The Notes 1, it is a bloody tissue because YoonGi fled his workroom with busted lips.

The motel room that YoonGi sets on fire in this loop once again matches the I Need U MV.

JiMin’s escape sequence from the hospital is likely the one depicted in the Euphoria MV, although in the video it’s staged during the daytime instead of at night.

TaeHyung’s confrontation with his father on 20 May unfolds a little differently than what is depicted in the I Need U MV.

Some notes/thoughts on the 22 May post-beach trip lodging are included in the Additional Commentary section above.

TaeHyung has a flashback to several days prior to 22 May when he asked SeokJin about his recurring dreams. The location of this conversation is unspecified in The Notes 1, but it’s depicted at the bus stop in the game.

TaeHyung pushes NamJoon away physically and verbally when he tries to interrupt his interrogation of SeokJin at the lodging. “Stay out of this, NamJoon. Why does it matter to you? You’re not my brother.” In the album Note from Her and as a flashback in The Notes 1, TaeHyung overheard NamJoon talking on the phone while they walked to their lodging. NamJoon was speaking to his parents about his younger brother being old enough to take care of himself, but TaeHyung apparently took this to heart as something about himself. It hurt and angered him deeply.

Notably, the glass does not break at the end of the Epilogue, suggesting that this loop continues from this event (as it does in The Notes 1) without yet resetting.

----------------

This brings us to the end of the BTS Universe Story <I’M FINE> highlights! This series turned out a little different than I originally envisioned, but I hope you found these summaries helpful and worthwhile to read. If you have any questions, important details that you felt I overlooked, or theories of your own that you would like to share, feel free to send me an ask!

For more informational storyline content, please check out the Timeline project, currently in development!

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #armysource #dailybangtan #bts universe #hyyh #bangtan universe #bts universe story #bts universe story highlights #ot7 #seokjin #taehyung #taejin #bts theories #jungkook #jimin #hoseok #namjoon #yoongi

[ireadyabooks]

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[i-like-plan-m]

If you're accepting prompts, how about one where people either can't lie to LWJ or he can tell when they're lying, and he inadvertently discovers a whole bunch of stuff WWX would rather he didn't (could be either WWX's low self worth, or his intense LWJ-based thirst!)

such a good prompt omg thank you [Posted to Ao3]

It was a curse, some said. A gift, according to others. The sect debated for years on the technicalities and argued their differing opinions over Lan Zhan’s head until Lan Qiren insisted the sect leave his nephew alone.

No one ever asked Lan Zhan what he thought.

He considered it neither a gift nor a curse. It was simply a part of him, the same as his golden core.

Except while a golden core was perfectly normal, Lan Zhan’s ability to detect any lie— spoken or unspoken— was less so. He heard falsehoods like music; words were notes, conversations were harmonies, and lies were the jarring wrong note that scraped harshly across his ears.

The hardest part was learning the reasons for a lie. Lan Zhan did not understand people the way his brother did, could only hear their lies and quietly disapprove. But Lan Xichen spent hours upon hours with him, testing the bounds of the skill and gently pointing out the different types of lies, and why the distinctions were important.

Sometimes, he’d said, people lie to protect themselves or others. Sometimes a lie is kinder than the truth. They were not all born of malicious intent, and he’d taught Lan Zhan how to distinguish between them. How to identify the dangerous lies, the harmful ones, and those that were best left unacknowledged out of kindness or respect.

Lan Xichen had been eternally patient, remarkably encouraging, and quietly concerned about the effect this curse would have on his little brother. Lan Zhan had seen it in his face, the nonverbal lie reading to him like a whisper every time Lan Xichen smiled to hide his worry.

His brother had never asked about the source of the curse or gift or whatever the sect considered it; Lan Zhan suspected he had his own theories, and Lan Xichen’s guesses would most certainly be better than the elders’.

But only Lan Zhan knew its origins for sure.

His mother had been lied to, once, and as a result had spent the rest of her days a prisoner in a small, lonely house. His clearest memory of his mother was her holding him close, tucking him into her lap and wrapping her arms around him in a loving, protective cocoon. It was the safest he had ever felt.

He’d been too young to recognize his mother’s sorrow for what it was at the time, the way she’d clearly known her death was approaching. But he remembered the quiet words she’d whispered to him, words of love and fear and protectiveness. The way her golden core had enveloped him, warm and steady, as she made sure her youngest son would not live in a house of lies and silence like her.

It was her greatest gift to him, and her last.

~*~

Lan Zhan knew the sound of a lie. So when a particularly irritating disciple arrived and immediately began causing trouble, Lan Zhan expected any number of lies from the boy. He was eager, even, for vindication for his own prejudice against such a disrespectful nuisance.

But Wei Ying had a way of talking that sounded like slurred notes to Lan Zhan’s highly trained ear. He was all chaos and deflection, and Lan Zhan experienced something uncomfortably like whiplash trying to keep up with the words in Wei Ying’s never-ending chatter.

It could not have been deliberate— no one outside of the Lan Sect’s elders and his own family knew of Lan Zhan’s particular skill— but nonetheless Wei Ying avoided giving straight answers, topics sliding sideways and off course with a joke, a question of his own, or some wildly inappropriate comment that made Lan Zhan too furious to focus.  

He was infuriating.

He was beautiful.

Somehow that was worse.

Lan Zhan did not bother to look over as Wei Ying bickered with his sect brother, not in any mood to deal with him or his own feelings about the biggest troublemaker he’d ever met in his life.

Wei Ying’s laugh rang over the courtyard, bright and happy as he slung an arm over Jiang Wanyin’s shoulders, ignoring the sect heir’s incensed protests. “Don’t lie, shidi, I know you love me!”

The lie sounded like a gong in Lan Zhan’s head, startling him so badly that he stumbled to an awkward stop and snapped his head around to stare at Wei Ying, who was for once paying him no attention.

His ever-present smile was in place, nothing false or fixed about it. Wei Ying wore happiness and humor like armor, and Lan Zhan wondered if anyone had ever seen past it. He hadn’t… until now.

Lies were interesting things. Sometimes entire speeches were a lie (for instance, everything that came out of Jin Guangshan’s mouth). Sometimes gestures held the lie, such as Nie Huaisang’s amiable nod of agreement whenever his older brother ordered him to go train with his saber. And sometimes the lie was only a single word.

I know you love me. The low, booming signal of Wei Ying’s lie was significant for two reasons: the timing, and the strength of the sound. The greater the lie, the louder the noise, and this one had left a painful echo in Lan Zhan’s ears from the force of it. And the timing… the lie had been marked on a single word: love.

I know you love me. But Wei Ying did not believe this, not even a little.

Lan Zhan… did not know what to do with this revelation.

By the end of class that day, during which Wei Ying had been bellowed at by Lan Qiren and handed off to Lan Zhan for yet another punishment, he still had not figured out what to do about it. He would have gone to his brother for advice, because Xichen always helped him find the right thing to do, but lately his brother had a terrible light of laughter in his eyes every time Lan Zhan mentioned Wei Ying, and he was not about to willingly subject himself to that indignity.

So he was left to his own devices. Lan Zhan stared down at his scroll, not reading a single word of it because of to Wei Ying’s indecent sprawl across a nearby desk. He was humming innocently, like Lan Zhan couldn’t see him urging a tiny paper man on a march towards Lan Zhan’s pot of ink.

“Focus on your work,” Lan Zhan said sternly, capturing the figure just before it dipped its little arms in the bowl and went on a rampage.

“Ugh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whined, flopping over the desk. “This is so boring, how can you stand it? Not even Madam Yu would make me do all this!”

Lan Zhan studied the paper man in the cage of his fingers. This was a chance to learn more, he thought, about Wei Wuxian’s life in Yunmeng. Maybe even about why he did not believe his own brother loved him.

Why do you care? This does not concern you. Lan Zhan mutinously banished the thought and set the paper man free to explore the stack of books on his desk.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Do you like Lotus Pier?”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying laughed. “What kind of question is that?”

Lan Zhan felt the familiar surge of frustration at the deflection; he could never get a straight answer out of Wei Ying, and it was a source of much aggravation.

“You mention punishments at Lotus Pier frequently,” he said instead of pinning Wei Ying to the floor until he got a truthful answer. The image sent a flash of heat through him, and he held himself very, very still until he had control over himself again.

“Eh.” Wei Ying waved a dismissive hand. “I get in trouble everywhere, Lan Zhan, whether I mean to or not.”

Truth.

“Are you punished in similar ways?” Lan Zhan asked, looking pointedly at Wei Ying’s abandoned paper of half-copied rules.

“No one gives punishments like the Lans. Don’t worry, your sect’s reputation is still the most feared of all!”

Not true, because anyone with half a brain knew to be wary of Wen Ruohan. This lie was like a slipped finger on the string of a qin, a short, wavering note that was discordant and vaguely unsettling. An untruth, technically, but said as a joke, as a sort-of truth because both of them knew the statement wasn’t genuine and that they other knew it as well.

Lan Zhan had a headache.

He tried a different track. “You were adopted by Sect Leader Jiang?”

Wei Ying sat up, propping his elbows on his desk and studying him for a moment before grinning. “So many questions, Lan Zhan! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want to be friends.”

It was said teasingly, and the lie was held in the latter part of the sentence— Wei Ying did not believe Lan Zhan wanted to be friends. That, combined with the frustration of yet another question avoided, made Lan Zhan say, “It seems you do not know better.”

Embarrassingly, his heart was pounding at the admission. Lan Zhan had never had a friend before, other than his brother, and he certainly did not know how to make them. But he knew that he wanted to spend time with Wei Ying more and more often, even though part of him rebelled at the thought.

It was oddly silent in the library. Lan Zhan knew his ears were flushed red with embarrassment and uncertainty, and he waited with bated breath for Wei Ying to tease him again, to deflect with another laugh or joke that kindly disguised the fact that he did not want to be Lan Zhan’s friend, that Lan Zhan was too stiff and weird and boring to be anyone’s friend.

A little nauseated, Lan Zhan lifted his eyes from his paper and gathered his courage to look at the other boy.

Wei Ying was gaping at him like a fish.

“Friends?” He finally managed. Lan Zhan dropped his eyes back to the desk and said nothing, couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. “You don’t want to be my friend!”

His gaze flickered back towards Wei Ying. The statement was untrue, obviously, but it was a lie that Wei Ying believed to be true, so it sounded like a half-missed note on a flute. Easily corrected, quickly covered, but there nonetheless.

“Says who?” Lan Zhan asked, wondering… hoping…

Wei Ying blinked at him for a moment, visibly stumped. Ridiculously, it made Lan Zhan feel as though he’d won something. Triumph over being the one to shock Wei Ying into uncharacteristic silence for once.

As expected, it didn’t last long.

Traitorous fondness glowed in his chest as Wei Ying planted his hands on the desk and raised himself onto his knees with an indignant expression. His hair fell in disarray around his face, a half-tied red ribbon spilling over his shoulder and against rumpled robes.

“You did!” Wei Ying said, outraged. “I said we should be friends on the first night!”

He’d said a lot of things that first night, Lan Zhan thought with reluctant amusement. Lan Zhan had forgotten most of it thanks to the veil of rage that had overtaken him as he chased a beautiful boy under the moonlight.

“Hm,” Lan Zhan said, dismissive, mostly just to watch Wei Ying’s expression contort into disbelief. “Did you ask?”

Wei Ying spluttered. “Of course I asked!” He said too loudly, and then cocked his head like he’d heard the ring of the lie, too. “Oh. Huh, I guess I didn’t ask, now that I think about it.”

He looked at Lan Zhan with a gleam in his eye. Lan Zhan had only a second to think, uh oh, and then Wei Ying had vaulted over his desk to land on his knees across from him.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, leaning in like they were sharing secrets. Lan Zhan’s hear thundered in his ears as Wei Ying grinned conspiratorially at him and leaned in close enough that Lan Zhan could smell the floral scent of his hair oil, the tinge of chili oil that he’d smuggled into the Cloud Recesses and then at some point spilled on his sleeve. “I want to be your friend. Do you want to be friends?”

Lan Zhan savored the silence around his words— I want to be your friend, he’d said, with no single hint of a lie— and tried not to let the mischievous glint in Wei Ying’s eye distract him.

It was too late, though. The seed of mischief had taken root in Lan Zhan, which was why he said with a perfectly straight face, “Hm. I will have to think about it.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying squawked with indignation, and then must have caught the tiny curl of Lan Zhan’s mouth because he exploded into laughter a second later. “Were you teasing me just now? Lan Zhan, I can’t believe this.”  

Quietly pleased with himself, Lan Zhan watched as Wei Ying laughed until he ran out of air, falling onto his back with his usual exuberant expressiveness. The laughter was a joyous sound, bright and honest, and hearing it in one of his favorite places made Lan Zhan’s chest feel warm and tight.

His mother would have liked him, Lan Zhan thought wistfully. For his humor, his irrepressible love of life, his fearlessness. His heart felt too big for his chest as he listened to Wei Ying laugh, unrestrained emotion where only disciplined constraint had ever been permitted.

He would investigate Wei Ying’s beliefs about his own worth later, he decided. They were friends now, so this was allowed.

For now, though, he let the clear, ringing music of Wei Ying’s laughter fill the room. Basked in the warmth he hadn’t felt since his mother had been alive, and softened enough to smile back at Wei Ying.

#y'all have sent me some fantastic prompts #this one was fun #the untamed #wangxian #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei ying #wei wuxian #mdzs #asks #anon #prompts #my writing #my fics

[asspinkie]

zukka/wuko hc

okay so hc/fic idea:

-> zuko helps wu come to terms with him being in love with mako and also shares with him the letters that he and sokka sent each other while they were falling in love

-> after wu reads the letters, zuko makes him write one to mako, confessing how he feels

-> 100% would be titled “when the stars come out at night (do you think of me?)” or something in that vein

-> i started writing it (under the cut) but will i finish? unlikely

Zuko was the last person Wu had expected. He never in a million years would have thought Fire Lord Izumi would send her relic of a father to be the Ambassador to the Earth Kingdom. Iroh? Maybe. But Lord Zuko, hero of the hundred-year war, previous Fire Lord and ridiculously old man? Never. And Wu really couldn’t decide if he was honored or peeved; he did, after all, have to deal with someone so antiquated that he probably still thought satomobiles were a novelty. 

Sighing heavily through his nose, Wu set down the letter from Izumi, pacing one of his many offices. “I can’t believe-” he started, looking back at Mako. Except Mako wasn’t there. Mako was back in Republic city, with his shiny new promotion to detective, leaving Wu to suffer alone. Instead, there was a dai-li agent guarding his door.

“Yes, your majesty?” she inquired.

“Nothing. The embassy from the Fire Nation arrives in three days. Have rooms prepared,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. The dai-li agent dipped her head and slipped out of the room. With a dramatic groan, Wu flopped onto the couch in the middle of the room, mentally exhausted.

He had spent the last few months trying to pick up the pieces of the Earth Nation that Kuvira had so rudely left behind; he’d formed alliances with the other nations, quelled uprisings and even dealt with the wrenching absence of his best friend. 

Mako. The one thing he couldn’t get off his mind, couldn’t file away, couldn’t defer responsibility to someone else. Apparently, at least according to Lin, Mako had specifically requested to leave Ba Sing Se. After everything they’d been through Mako had just left, to be a detective. What about being a detective was better than being a part of the Earth King’s personal entourage? Wu couldn’t think of a single thing. 

---

Apparently, Zuko was incredibly skilled at messing with Wu’s expectations. He wasn’t a crotchety old man with an over-inflated sense of self. No, he was chill. Their first meeting might have been awkward if the old man hadn’t immediately said “I’m too tired for niceties” and whipped out a pai sho game board.

Wu gaped at him. “What- where did you just get that from?”

Zuko chuckled. “I figured our time would be better spent getting to know one another over a game and tea, rather than discussing the terms of your abdication and what it means for an alliance.” He tugged at his collar. “These formalities are so overplayed.”

Wu wasn’t sure how to react. This man, who had helped the last avatar take down the tyrannical rule of the fire nation, who used to lead the fire nation, wanted to play pai sho. Wu supposed he couldn’t really say no. 

---

And so it became their tradition. Once a month, when Zuko was visiting to discuss economical treatises and trade routes, cultural events and immigration, they played pai sho. At first, it was quiet. Wu wasn’t quite sure what to say to Zuko; he was in such a different league that no topics seemed like common ground. But slowly, Zuko’s snarky comments and Wu’s huffs of laughter turned into lively conversations. 

“You know,” Zuko started, one sunny afternoon, while they were playing a game in Wu’s personal garden, trying to avoid dignitaries. “I’m always surprised when I visit, that you have still not been married. I’m sure you’re drowning in suitors. I know I was when I was crowned.”

Wu gagged on his tea. “I’ve just been so busy, you know, with reconstructing the Earth Kingdom,” he fumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Besides, who needs love?”

Zuko wheezed at this. “I’ve seen the way you gaze forlornly out the window when I’m taking time considering a move. And how, when you say something you think is funny, you look over your shoulder, even though there’s no one there.” He picked up a white dragon piece, flipping it between his thin fingers. Leaning in, across the board, he flicked the piece into Wu’s face.

“Ow, what was that for?” Wu yelped, rubbing the red spot on his forehead.

“Aren’t you going to tell me who it is?”

A blush crept into Wu’s cheeks. “I’m not in love with anyone,” he responded, swatting Zuko’s hand out of his face. “I couldn’t be anyw- Mako is a guy.”

The corner of Zuko’s mouth flicked up as he sat back. “Who said you can’t date a guy?”

“Who said I can?”

Zuko looked at him. “You know, we had laws against it in the fire nation. Sixty years ago. That’s all outdated now; it doesn’t matter who you fall in love with, we’re all just souls, aren’t we?” He was fiddling with the white dragon piece again and giving Wu a concentrated look. “I myself was married to another man.”

Wu tried to stop his eyes from bugging out but his dumb face, over which he had no control evidently, had morphed into shock. “I thought you were married to Mai? Izumi’s mother?”

Zuko shook his head. “Wow, you are way behind on gossip, Wu. Listen, I saved some letters Councilman Sokka and I sent each other when we were young. Would you like me to bring them to you?”

Wu felt his eyes widen even more. “Councilman Sokka?!”

“Did you learn nothing of the fire nation's affairs in your education? This is all common knowledge.”

“No, I wasn’t taught gossip,” Wu sputtered in response. 

“I forget how sheltered you Earth Kingdom royals are. I remember when the saying ‘there is no war in Ba Sing Se’ circulated the city. In any case. . . “ Zuko sighed. “Would you like the letters?”

#this could be SO good if i had the motivation #instead i write shrek aus #wuko shrek au #wuko #zukka #since this is more than one shot material i probably will not finish it #because im like that #that tm #no mai is not just a plot device in this for izumi to be born #in fact if i ever did write this #she would be leaving zuko to marry ty lee #and zuko would be really upset #but he'd be able to move past it #gray

[sadistgalore]

Chapter 12: Burn Together, Friends Forever

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Taglist: @elliei-m

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist.

CW: Heavy dehumanization, pet whump, torture, burning, branding, conditioned whumpee, slapping, verbal abuse, kicking, referenced whump of a minor (nonsexual), implied starvation, Luther is his own warning, boils, impalement, left outside in the cold, implied noncon

Harper’s stomach dropped as soon as she heard the bastard’s voice, and heard a hard whimper behind her.

“Naughty, naughty girl, Harper. I don’t think your master would approve.”

Harper huffed. “You lied. You said you had a dog, not a human!”

Luther glared. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference? You people are fucking impossible!”

“I would watch your attitude, kitty. You’re just making this worse for yourself.”

“H-Ha-Harper,” said a voice behind her. The girl turned around, seeing Killian look up with tears in his eyes, trembling. “D-D-Don’t m-m-make h-“

“Doggy.” A voice cut him off. “That sounds an awful like talking to me.”

Killian lowered back down. Harper noticed this, and her police instincts kicked in once again. “Stop talking to him like that. You’re mad? Then take your anger out at me, you’ve hurt him enough.”

Luther smirked. “Fine, kitty. Come here.”

Harper looked once more to the shaking boy, then followed the orders given. Luther went across the room, looking towards the wall lined with Dark’s torture devices. He finally picked a long metal cord with a wire attached to it, and plugged said wire into the wall.

“I don’t know why Edward insisted on picking a defiant one like you, there’s so many other trained pets with black hair he can just buy for a few hundred bucks,” he muttered, beginning to loop the cord around her right arm.

“Sorry that me trying to preserve my dignity is a problem for you,” she spat.

Luther chuckled, hand moving to a button attached to the cord. “We’ll see about that,” he finished as he pushed the button.

At first, Harper didn’t feel anything, but soon felt a warm sensation after thirty seconds or so. That sensation only kept growing into a burning pain. She gasped, soon realizing what Luther was intending to do, and began trying to pull it off.

Luther grabbed her hand, “Bad kitty. You better stay still unless you want Doggy to have this looped around his throat.”

Harper looked up, eyes beginning to form tears, and put her hand down. She soon screamed as the heat only increased, the hot metal burning into her arm.

“Ruff!”

“No, doggy. Your punishment is later.” Luther said without even looking up, admiring the smoke coming from the kitty’s arm.

“S-stop, please! I’m begging you!” Harper screamed, beginning to grow nauseous as she smelt more and more of her burnt flesh.

“Just another minute,” Luther hummed, causing Harper to yell in frustration.

That minute felt like hours, during which the pain became too unbearable and she fell to the floor. She writhed on the ground, other hand burning as she tried to pry the clip off to no avail. Luther bent down, ignoring her defiance, and pushed the button on the wire.

“Such a crybaby,” he said as he walked towards his shackled dog.

Killian began whimpering loudly, crying out as Luther began to unshackle his wrists.

“You’re a very bad doggy, you know that?” Luther said as he cupped his face, feeling the tears streaming down his pet’s eyes. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

“B-bark-“ Slap.

“Stupid mutt. Use your words.”

“I-I’ll,” Killian started, not quite sure how exactly he was going to make it up to his captor. “I’ll be a b-bet-ter dog-“ Slap.

“Well you’re pretty fucking terrible at that, aren’t you?!” The man yelled, making Killian flinch back. “Answer me! Aren’t you a bad dog?”

“Yes sir-“ Instead of a slap, Luther punched Killian hard in the face. He got up, beginning to kick him to each word he spoke. “Stupid. Fucking. Dog! Why are you using your words?!”

“I don’t know what you want from me!” The young man screamed, Luther seeing a defiance in his eyes that he hadn’t seen since he was 17. Killian soon snapped back to reality, cringing at the cruel smile of his captor.

“No, no, I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t- ruff! Ruff, ruff, bark, woof!-“

Luther grabbed his hair and began to drag him upstairs. He stopped as he passed the girl on the floor, the coil around her arm now turning into a dull red instead of the fiery orange. “I’ll be back kitty. Once I’m back, I expect you to have dinner prepared for me only. Neither you or the doggy are getting food for a while.”

He didn’t stop to hear the choked gasps of the kitty as he walked upstairs, ripping the poor boy’s scalp as he continued to be dragged. Once they reached the kitchen, Luther threw the dog on the ground and stepped on his neck to prevent him from escaping.

The man grabbed a pot and filled it with water, setting the gas stove burner to high as he waited for it to boil. The boy was crying openly, not bothering to whimper or whine as he saw the rare aggression in his captor’s face.

“Oh, Killian,” Luther sighed as he leaned against the counter, foot still pressing on the dog’s neck. “You were doing so well, I thought I finally broke you.” Killian’s cries filled the room. “Still, you’re too incompetent to follow the rules.”

After a few minutes of more sobbing and the man’s silence, the water finally stopped boiling.

“You need to learn, pup,” Luther said as he grabbed the pot handle with a towel. “The only one who can give anything in this world,” he dumped the pot on the boy, ears straining at the blood-curdling scream that came with it.

“Is me.”

____________

“Wonderful dinner, kitty,” Luther complimented as he finished the last few bites of his steak.

The girl said nothing, completely exhausted from trying to ignore the unbearable pain on her arm and using what little energy she had to cook a meal for the bastard.

She can’t imagine what Killian must be going through, though.

The said boy was still on the kitchen floor, screams long since stopped and have resorted to painful crying. His face was an angry red, only a few boils on his face since he covered most of the splash with his arms. But those were scaly and irritated, raw skin being exposed. Harper had mentioned giving him some medicine, but one angry look from Luther was enough to shut her up.

Luther stood up from the table, and snapped his fingers. Harper moved hesitantly towards him, Killian didn’t. “Your punishment isn’t over. Since you two want to bond so much, you can bond in the cold outside. And no meals for three days. Clear?”

Harper nodded, dreading the thought of being chained up outside into the freezing cold.

Luther gripped her chin. “I said, are we clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Luther said nothing as he walked towards a drawer, pulling out chains that had very thick cuffs attached to the ends. He tightly gripped her burned out, smiling as she screamed in pain. He dragged her outside and pushed her to the ground outside the porch, connecting the cuff to her ankle and linking it to the wall. He left, and came out with Killian who was also crying out in pain. He did the same procedure with him, and then flipped a switch on each of their ankle cuffs.

Harper flinched as she felt spikes just grazing her skin, regretting that as they seemed to break contact and draw blood.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Luther smirked, seeing the girl’s face in pain. They are spikes embedded into those cuffs; the more you struggle, the more they get into your skin. So you don’t try to run away, of course.”

Harper resisted the urge to roll her eyes and looked towards Killian, who was now crying again.

“I hope you learned your lesson today, kitty. I’ll be sure to tell Edward about this.”

“You branded my fucking arm,” Harper growled. “Dark said not to scar me.”

Luther gave the girl a cold glare. “You’re gonna learn, like all of his other pets did, that I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you despite if your master likes it or not. I’m sure you’ll see that in the nights we’re going to spend together, kitty.”

With that, the man walked back inside, content that his new playthings wouldn’t try running away.

Harper tested Luther’s claims by doing little movements with her ankle, but the spikes only dug into her skin more.

“Shit,” she whispered as she slumped against the porch behind her. “We’re gonna be impaled even if we moved an inch.”

Killian whimpered, but remained still as he curled up against the porch wall. Harper looked over to him, seeing spike-like scars on his wrists and ankles. “This isn’t the first time he put these damn cuffs on you, isn’t it?”

The boy shook his head.

Harper looked at him with a sorrowful look; she spent mere hours with this man, how long had Killian been with him? “Hey, we’re gonna be okay, alright?” Harper started, gently placing her arm on his non burnt shoulder. “I’m a police detective for Washington, D.C. My friend has been investigating this group for years, a rescue will come for me soon.” She said it more to herself than to Killian. “I promise.”

Killian listened to her words, but couldn’t get himself to believe her. He might have been a street rat, but he’s been missing for seven years. He’s met other pets like her, with reputations and hopes of being rescued. But he’s also met other masters, ones that have too good of a reputation to ever be met with repercussions for what they’ve done to their pets, like Luther.

But Harper was nice, nicer than most people he’s met in almost a decade of hell. Maybe the cycle will change. Maybe his torment will finally end.

He looked up at her, and smiled, and was met with a warm smile back. He nuzzled into her, and closed his eyes when he felt her arm wrapping around his back and running it gently. Together, they could try their best to remain warm.

Harper rested her head on Killian’s, and yawned as she prepared for an uncomfortable and cold night of sleep. “One day, Kill-”

Killian groaned. Harper chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I like giving people nicknames. ‘Kill’s’ not a good one?”

The boy shook his head, Harper thought some more.

“How about Ian?” She got a head nod in affirmation.

“Okay, Ian, one day we’ll get out of here together. From now on, I’m gonna do whatever I can to protect you, alright?”

There was silence for a moment, just their steady breaths filling the space, then a very silent,

“Alright.”

#whump #whump community #whump fic #whump blog #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #lady whump #lady whumpee #pet whump #tw dehumanization #tw torture #tw burning #tw branding #conditioned whumpee #sadistic whumper #tw slapping #tw verbal abuse #tw kicking #tw referenced whump of a minor (nonsexual) #implied starvation #tw implied torture #tw implied noncon #Luther is his own warning #tw boils #tw impalement #left outside in the cold

[sayuricorner]

Miraculous Ladybug salt x JJBA “Biodad!Jonathan Joestar” AU Headcanons part 4: Arc 2 “The Bizarre USA Adventures

Part 3        Part 5

AU concept

Warning: English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing.

Warning 2: This AU content salt don’t like don’t read!

Warning 3: Child abuse, human triffacking

Here’s the part 4 of the headcanon of the “Biodad! Jonathan Joestar” AU!

This part will be about the arc 2 of the AU “The Bizarre USA Adventures”!

--------------------------------------------

(This picture is an edit, the pictures used are from JJBA and ML which belong respectively to Hirohiko Araki and Thomas Astruc)

Litle recap regarding the arcs:

->This AU had 5 arcs:

-”The Bizarre Origins”

-”The Bizarre USA Adventures”

-”The Bizarre Mass Resurection Mystery”

-”The Bizarre Family”

-”The Bizarre Final Showdown”

-You can read their summaries/concepts in “Biodad!Jonathan Joestar AU concept”

-You can also read the headcanons part 1 to see the arcs’s place in the AU’s timeline.

- You can also read the headcanons part 2 for informations about the ML characters who are stand users and for additionnal headcanons as well.

Arc 2:”The Bizarre USA Adventures”:

-Take place after “Miracle Queen”.

-Marinette’s life became harder ever since she became the new guardian of the miracle box, the akumas being more dangerous day by day and Lila’s lies made her “friends” turning their back on her and isolate her.

-She try as much as she can but sometimes the presure was nearly unbearable but thankfully she still got her parents, her true friends like Luka and Kagami and [Viva la Vida] by her side.

-Times to times because of the pressure Marinette cry at night and her make the best she can to comfort her by hugging her until she calm down and fall asleep.

-Marinette’s parents noticed how low their daughter’s mood was and it worried them, they tried more than one time to convince Marinette to transfer to another school but everytime she responded “It’s fine, I’m fine and it’s not their fault! They’re my friends and they will realize one day that Lila is lying!”.

-Tom and Sabine decided it would be for the best if Marinette spend some times outside of Paris so they contacted Gina and after they explained the situation to her, she propose them that Marinette came spending summer break with her in the USA.

-They talked to Marinette about this who wasn’t sure about this idea, Paris need Ladybug what will she do if a akuma attack the city while she’s in the USA?

-Tikki convinced her to go to the USA with Gina, it would be good for her and now she was the guardian and had access to all the miraculous so if she need to go back to Paris if there’s an akuma attack she can use Kaalki.

-After thinking about it Marinette decided to accept her Nonna’s proposition and go to see her for summer break in the USA.

-The first week was rather relaxing with Marinette traveling around the States with her Nonna, until Gina got a mysterious call.

-The call was someone from “her job” who was asking her urgently to come quickly ‘cause there’s an emergency.

-After her call Gina planned at first to leave Marinette at a hotel while she go to her work place to take care of this “emergency”.

-But right before she can find an hotel both grandmother and grand-daughter are attacked by a mysterious stand ennemy which forced Marinette to fight them with [Viva la Vida].

-Despite not being a stand user Gina guessed Marinette was one by the way she was fighting and it was quite a surprise for her.

-Since she doesn’t visit her son’s family often, Gina wasn’t aware that Marinette became a stand user.

-After the stand ennemy was take care of, Gina realise it will not be safe to leave Marinette on her own while she’s at her job so she got no other choice but to bring her along.

-Marinette was shocked to learn that her Nonna’s job was as scientist at the well know Speedwagon Foundation and that Gina’s job is studying and keep an eye on assleep ancient beings know as the Pillar Men.

-Turn out that when she was younger, Gina was a young Hamon user who was under the teaching of Lisa-Lisa and had fought alongside Joseph and Caesar against the Pillar Men in 1938.

-She even saved Caesar’s life during his fight against Wamuu before the latter could kill him.

-Unlike the “Battle tendency” canon the Pillar Men aren’t dead, they have instead been turned into stones and the SPWF is holding them to keep an eye on them and study them and Gina, with Caesar, is at the head of the scientists team who are study them.

-After the Pillar Men’s defeat Gina and Ceasar keep training their Hamon and by so still look young, except in Gina’s case she was training less so while she still look younger she’s not physically looking like she’s 20 unlike Caesar.

-So the emergency the Foundation call Gina for was a group of stand ennemies who infiltrated the Foundation to steal secrets documents, documents from Gina’s departement included.

-Gina and Caesar go take care of the thieves and Gina told Marinette to stay in the lobby in safety.

-Hamon users can fight stand users by using hamon to detect the energy of their stands.

-The two Hamon users were able to stop the thieves but unfortunatly during the battle a stand ennemy with a electic type stand provoked a power failure in the whole building cutting also the power of the UV lights which were weakening the Pillar Men and keep them as stones.

-And because of this the Pillar Men get back their strenght and are once again awaken.

-As soon as the alarm of the Pillar Men’s room ringed, Gina and Caesar quickly go their only to find with horror that the Pillar Men are awaken.

-The Pillar Men recognised them and Kars even throw at them snarky remarks and ask them where Joseph is.

-The two Hamon users refused to ansver him and are preparing to fight them.

-Meanwhile Marinette had a bad feeling, she feel her Nonna is in big danger and that she must go help her.

-Discretly she slipped away to transform into Ladybug and go search for Gina and Caesar.

-She found them fighting the Pillar Men, both Hamon users injured.

-Ladybug saved them with her yo-yo before they end up seriously hurt or worse.

-When seeing the yo-yo and Ladybug, the Pillar Men were shocked and Kars even murthered like “A ladybug holder?”.

-The two group stared at each other with Ladybug staring at them in defiance and staying on her guards.

-Kars came back to his snarky and arogant self and being like “Well what a surprise! It’s been a very long time since we saw a miraculous holder or anything related to the miraculous! If I remember well last time was when we saw Atlantis being sunk by the kwami of destruction isn’t that right Wamuu?” , “Yes! master Kars!”.

-Ladybug don’t had the time to ract that Kars is suddenly face to her, looking at her closely and making comment about how young she look for a miraculous holder.

-This make [Viva la Vida](in Ladybug’s form) react stepping between her user and Kars and emaning an intimidating energy.

-Feeling the atmosphere becoming very tense Gina intervened by sayin if they still want the stone of Java they waste they time as the stone was destroyed and no other ones existed so why wasted their time for a quest which will lead them to nothing?

-The two argued with Gina trying to make Kars accept to had negiciations for a time until Kars is like, pretending to thinking, “You know what? We will play your game Hamon warriors but on one condition! I demand a fight against her!” while pointing at Marinette.

-Kars met a Ladybug holder in the past and want to see what the current one can do.

-Despite Gina’s and Caesar’s protests, Ladybug accept the challenge.

-Wamuu asked kars to let him fight Ladybug wchich Kars accepted.

-Both Ladybug and Wamuu get ready to fight while the others were observing from a safe distance, Gina also used a talkie-walkie to warm the SPWF to not intervened.

-Joseph arrived at this moment the foundation having contacted him about the Pillar Men but the employees told him everyone was ordered to stay away from the Pillar Men area and so all they can do is watch through the security cameras.

-The fight between Ladybug and Wamuu was hard and intense, Ladybug had a lot of difficulties even with [Viva la Vida]’s powers being incrased in her Ladybug form and as Wamuu was about to seriously hurt her Kars stopped the fight.(I’m sorry I suck at fight scenes! T_T)

-Kars seemed satisfied with what he saw in this fight, that despiste her obvious lack of fighting experiences her resistance to Wamuu’s attack for such a long time was impressive.

-At the same time Joseph and SPWF security guards arrived ready to fight only to be welcome by the sight of the Pillar Men not showing any hostility and Kars smirking is even like “Well look who’s finally here! Long time no see Jojo!”.

-Joseph angerly tell them that whatever they planned it will not work ony to had Kars laughing at him and is like “Oh Jojo you can’t be anymore wrong about the situation! You see your “friends” and we had a little “talk” before you came and they made some good points about doing a rampage on those pathetic humans would be for nothing since the stone don’t exist anymore so we decided to accept to negociate and play by your rules... For now!”.

-After explanations from both Caesar and Gina about what the heck is going on and more talks, the Pillar Men are bring back to new holding rooms with new UV lamps of course.

-Ladybug profit from everyone being distracted to slip away and transform back into Marinette.

-After everything is back in order Gina introduced Marinette to Joseph who was shocked to learn that Gina’s grand-daughter is a stand user.

-During the rest of her’s and her Nonna’s stay at the Foundation, Marinette learned more things about stands and how to to control them.

-She came accross the Pillar Man times to times but was always making sure to quickly go feeling Kars’s stare on her.

-After that misadventure Gina and Marinette get back to their trip and for a good the trip was calm, until they get to Florida.

-At first things were normal until they hear about a high rate of children kidnapping which keep going up for a time.

-This made Gina worried for Marinette so she decided to not let Marinette out of her sight while they stay in Florida.

-As for Marinette thinking about those poor kidnapped children made her blood boiling, her inner hero screaming at her to go save them and bring the kidnappers to justice.

-Marinette waited that her Nonna fall asleep the next night to sneak away from their hotel room, transform into Ladybug and begening her search.

-After a long search, spying and a little miracle from [Viva la Vida]’s powers, Ladybug finally found the kidnappers’s base in a warehouse at Port St. Lucie.

-When she infiltrated the base, learn more about the kidnappers and their goal.

-The kidnappers are part of a human triffacking network and they kidnap people, mainly children, who had a stand as stand users had a very big value in human trafficking market.

-Ladybug is absolutely horrified by what she found out and became more determinated to save the children.

-She found where they were holded but she end up being busted by some of the kidnappers who happen to be stand users.

-After a long and hard fight Ladybug managed to beat them thank to her Ladybug abilities and her stand.

-The police was alerted and when they arrived at the warehouse they found the kidnapped children unharmed and the kidnapper inconcious and tied up.

-Ladybug left the warehouse without being noticed by the police and go back the hotel.

-The next day news about the kidnapped children having been found were spreading across all the state.

-Gina noticed that Marinette had bad bruises and the news about the kidnapped children having miraculously been found made her suspicious.

-Gina interogate Marinette about her bruises Marinette simply said she had a bad fall “You know how clumsy I can be Nonna!”.

-Gina didn’t buy it but acted like “Of course I know Marinetta but please be more carefull I know you want to help and do good but it’s not a reason to not look after your health!”.

-To Marinette the message was clear: her Nonna knew she had something to do with the kidnapped children being found and while she was proud of her she don’t want her to put herself recklessly in danger like that again.

-Gina after that bring Marinette to the nearest hospital to make sure she had no severe injuries despite her grand-daughter’s protests.

-At the hospital Marinette is treated but the doctors and nurses were agitated because three children of the kidnapped children were brough to them but those three kid’s case was special.

-Those kids, Donatello(14), Rikiel(13) and Ungalo(13) weren’t kidnapped like the other kids, their own parents sold them to the kidnappers and the obvious abuse those kids had been victim made them wary and completely untrustfull of everyone.

-And the situation is even more complicated with Rikiel who seem not well at all but the two other boys don’t let the hospital staff even come near them.

-Marinette and Gina feel extremely sad for those boys so they decided to try to convince the boys to let the doctors heal them.

-When they meet the boys in their room Marinette noticed Rikiel was indeed not well at all and his stand was the reason for that.

-Marinette thought that if the boy’s health problems are due to his stand than maybe [Viva la Vida] can do something about it?

-When she approached them the boys were were at first very wary of her and were threatening her but after a few talks Marinette managed to convince them to let her trying to heal Rikiel.

-With [Viva la Vida]’s miracle powers, Marinette appeased Rikiel’s stand and stop it from hurting Rikiel any further much to the three boys’s shock.

-After a few more talk Marinette convinced them to let the doctor check them up althrough the boys are still mistrustfull.

-During the boys check up, the doctors made DNA test in hope to find relatives of the boys, instead, the found out that the boys are brothers from the same father.

-One of the doctors who also cheked up Marinette earler noticed the boys had the same birthmark than Marinette so to be certain he made another DNA test of her with Donatello, Rikiel and Ungalo and it was revealed that Marinette was also the boys’s sister much to the kids’s and Gina’s shock.

-Until a solution is found for the boys they are staying in the hospital and Gina and Marinette decided to stay in Florida for the rest of their stay in the USA.

-During the rest of her stay Marinette get to begin to bond with her newfound little brothers.

-Gina called Tom and Sabine to tell them the situation, the Dupain-Cheng couple were shocked to learn that Marinette had apparently three brothers from her bio father and were horrified when Gina told them about the boys’s situation.

-After thinking about it Tom and Sabine decided to adopt the boys, no children, especially not those who are “family” one way or another, will suffer on their watch.

-After a long administrative procedure, talk with the boys who end up accepted the Dupain-Cheng couple despite being still incertain and thank to Gina’s connections with some administrators of the USA goverment, Donatello, RIkiel and Ungalo are offialy adopted by the Dupain-Cheng.

-Tom and Sabine come to the USA to spend the rest of Gina’s and Marinette’s stay in the country with them to bond with their new adopted sons, finish some administrative documents and make some arrangements for the boys therapies.

-After everything was settled up, the Dupain-Cheng family with their new family members all get back to Paris.

-Ever since it was found out that Marinette was the boys’s sister and they all had a birthmark which was familiar to her, Gina had suspicions about the kids’s bio father identity and decided to investigate on it as soon as she can.

-As for Marinette all this bizarre adventure which give her new knowledge about stands and new litlle brothers lift up her spirit, finding a new determination to face whatever life is going to throw at her.

-But Marinette don’t know that those bizarre adventures are only begin and that they will became even more strange.

Additional headcanons:

-In the past the Pillar Men met the former Ladybug Aztec hero Micazoyolin, the latter fought them to free his people from them as he saw the Pillar Men as bad people who pretended to be gods to enslave his people.

-He fought them by challenging Kars in a battle, with the premise that if Kars loose the Pillar Men will leave the aztecs’s lands and never come back but if  Micazoyolin loose he will recognize them as gods.

-The fight was hard and violent but in the end it was Micazoyolin who win and the Pillar Men left as the deal stated.

-Wamuu and Santana were only young children when this happened, seeing  Micazoyolin ‘s honorable warrior ways during his fight against Kars marked Wamuu and inspired him to become an honorable warrior too.

-The second time the Pillar Men had “contact” with the miraculous was when Plagg sunk Atlantis.

-It’s during those times that Kars learnt about the miraculous wish but after learning that a hard price must be paid for the wish he decided to not take reckless risks and stick to the “stone of Aja” plan.

-After the Pillar Men situation was took care of at SPWF Tikki talked to Marinette about them, warning her about how dangerous they are and told her about how one of her former holders, Micazoyolin, fought against them in the past.

-Gina didn’t had suspicions about Marinette’s bio dad’s identity earler ‘cause her departement in the SPWF was more focused on the Pillar Men so althrough she know about Dio(Jonathan), she don’t know all the details.

-As for the Joestar birthmark since Gina don’t see Marinette often she only saw it a few time so she tend to forget about it.

-Donatello, Rikiel and Ungalo bonding with their new family and with Marinette show to each other their stand and what they can do.

-[Viva la Vida] bonding with Donatello’s, Rikiel’s and Ungalo’s stands, giving them hugs and also hugging Donatello, Rikiel and Ungalo.

-In this AU unlike in the Jojo canon Joseph still do Hamon training, just less then what he used to in part 2, and by so he still look like he was in “Star Crusaders”.

-------------------------------------------------------

TAG LIST :( a reblog will get you a place in the tag list! ^^)

@sir-david-von-templo , @wrecker-radioactive , @secretlawyercolorscissors , @whitetiger1337 , @enkiduvhs​ , @coffeeoverdosedshipper

#ml salt #miraculous ladybug #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #crossover #ml au #ml au idea #bio dad au #bio dad jonathan joestar #marinette dupain cheng #gina dupain #tom dupain #sabine cheng #caesar zeppeli #joseph joestar #kars #esidisi #wamu #santana #tikki #donatella versace #rikiel #ungalo #headcanon #headcanons #lila salt #class salt #bustier salt #marinette deserves better #pillar men

[restapesta]

The Tomato Thief

Enjoy this little something I wrote based on a prompt here on Tumblr. Feedback is always appreciated.

Words: 4.3k

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The first time Ian noticed his tomatoes half-gone, half-squashed from the small vegetable patch he had started working on when he and Mickey moved into the apartment complex, he chose to ignore it. Pretending as if the loss of his small, barely ripe cherry tomatoes was insignificant, he mentioned no word of it to anyone, making a conscious decision to simply start the planting process once again. So, in the past month, Ian, choosing not to get frustrated, but rather improve his skills, was trailing along the edge of a nervous breakdown, trying to get his little patch of land replenished. When he realized that the second time doing something he initially started as a hobby would be much more difficult than the first, he feared that what he intended to be relaxing would turn into aggravating. If it wasn't for the security business, he probably would've had a meltdown, very much hurt by the fact his poor tomatoes were gone, but somehow, he managed to power through it, luck being somewhat on his side, making the tomato-growing process faster than before. It was a long excruciating process, living with the secret that all of his previous hard work was now replaced by even harder work and determination, but the sight of his vegetable patch replenishing itself as if it were never ruined, along with the Westside growing even fonder to both him and Mickey, almost starting to feel like home, made it all sort-of worth it for Ian. His husband was happy, his home was beautiful, his business was expanding, and his tomatoes were finally turning a deeper shade of red, after being torn out the first time while they were mostly green. Ian was truly very much happy.

Until he woke up one Saturday morning, excited to start his weekend off by gardening, his way to relax from the crammed-up week he and Mickey had, both enjoying the little separate bubbles they created, together yet apart, Mickey with the pool he grew to love, and Ian with his veggies, working away in the Sun -- and found every single one of his tomatoes gone, neatly picked from their stems, as if done by a professional.

First, Ian had paled, his complexion turning impossibly whiter in the bask of the afternoon glow. Then, his left eye began twitching. Anger bubbled inside of his chest, and he finally understood his husband's urges to break chairs and signs, and throw tantrums -- Ian felt like murdering somebody. Wrapping his hands so tight around the neck of the person who took his tomatoes which weren't even ripe for taking yet, and squeezing until he saw the life leave their eyes. Scaring himself at the thought, he took a deep breath and then held it for a long period of time -- a questionable, dangerous, life-threatening period of time. He was sure that his neck and cheeks were even redder than his poor tomatoes were when he had last seen them. Exhaling quickly, he balled his hands into fists and made his way quickly to the vegetable patch to examine it better.

Crouching down, as if he were in a detective movie, he observed the soil, in case the culprit left footprints or accidentally dropped a valuable item Ian could use to identify them with. When he saw nothing helpful, but rather just his regular garden -- sans the lost reds -- he rolled over all of his options in his head. 

It could've been an animal the last time -- a squirrel or a bird, considering how a lot of the tomatoes were simply just squashed -- but now, the precision the tomatoes were picked with... there was no other possibility. It was one of the other tenants, somebody who deliberately wanted to either get revenge on Ian or simply to eat the vegetables Ian had worked so hard on for himself and his husband. It was ironic how he saw red.

Breathing deeply, composing himself more with each inhale and exhale -- a technique he had been forced to learn in court-mandated therapy -- the ginger made his way from the garden to the manager's office, strides quick. Melanie, the on-sight manager, was in the room, along with her poodle when Ian knocked on the door.

"Hi." She chirped in greeting. "How may I help you?"

Ian forced a smile. "I was wondering if you perhaps had cameras in the garden area? I think someone stole something I left there, by accident." He lied, not wanting the woman to think of him as even a bigger fag for caring about dumbass vegetable-fruits. Much to his dismay, she shook her head apologetically. 

"Sorry, no. Was it valuable?"

Yes, Ian thought sadly. "Nah. Probably just misplaced it. Thank you anyway."

She smiled again, "You're welcome. Say hi to your husband for me."

"I will." He waved goodbye and exited the office, closing the door behind him.

No cameras, no clues. He had no fucking idea how he could possibly catch the asshole who had the nerves to fuck with him. Suddenly, he understood what he needed to do. 

Mickey was lounging by the pool, sunglasses on, looking hot as fuck, enjoying the day when Ian found him. Stepping in front of the chair Mickey was sitting on, Ian blocked the beams of light which were hitting Mickey's body, slowly giving him a nice tan. Mickey begrudgingly opened his eyes to stare at Ian, pushing his sunglasses down slightly, as if wanting to give Ian a better look of his 'why the fuck are you blocking the Sun' expression. 

"What?" He finally asked, pushing his RayBans back up.

"Baby, I need your help killing someone."

Mickey's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, assessing Ian's face for any sign of humor. When he found none, he blew out an exasperated sigh. "Why?"

"Someone stole my fucking tomatoes."

Ian could see Mickey's eyes close again behind the black glass. "Who?"

"I have no fucking idea. If I did, they'd already be dead. This is the second time, Mick!" He shook his head in disbelief. "First time, I let it slide. Thought it was a bird or some shit. So, I did everything again this past month, made sure everything was better than before, had a near fucking episode over the stress that shit caused me, and now, they get fucking stolen, again!" He was breathing raggedly now, even angrier than before. His shrink's anger controlling methods only worked for a short period of time, he guessed. "We need to kill them."

Ian sat himself down on the chair next to Mickey's, slouching back in defeat. His poor tomatoes. He felt his fingers intertwine with soft, warm ones, Mickey's thumb rubbing soothing circles over Ian's. "We can't kill them," Mickey started. Ian was about to respond how he knew that, how it still made him really fucking angry, but Mickey continued, softly, "without knowing who they are. Once we know who they are, we can slip rat poison into the tomatoes, and have 'em dead in a heartbeat. Can't even pin it on us, 'cause then they'd have to admit they stole it."

Ian's eyes widened slightly, amazed and terrified by his partner at the same time. "I forgot you were a murderer here for a second."

Mickey smirked at Ian's growing smile. "Parole for attempted murder, Red. Need I remind you? Did you forget how much that turned you on?" He was now inching closer to his husband, chin jutting out, seeking out a kiss. Ian complied, even in his angriest moments still horny for his worse half, moving his lips against Mickey's slowly and teasingly. 

"We can't kill them." Ian voiced out after they broke apart, now much calmer.

Mickey snorted, settling back in his chair. "No shit."

"We can find out who the fuck it is, though."

"How the fuck you gonna do that? All your tomatoes are gone, right? 'S not like you can just make new ones appear."

Ian thought about it for a second, "Who says I can't? I have my ways."

Mickey nodded mockingly. "Sure, tough guy. Is this the moment I find out I've been married to a wizard?"

"Store-bought tomatoes, Mickey." Ian deadpanned.

"Oh."

"We plant those, and then go on a stakeout." He was already devising a master plan in his head. How they would buy the tomatoes at WholeFoods -- get the expensive ones so the bait was even more tempting, make it look as if Ian grew them himself (even though that was impossible by the rules of time -- but the person had to be stupid enough to steal from a Gallagher after all, so it had to work), and then, wait tonight in the garden, considering how his tomatoes couldn't have been stolen at any other time of day, and try to catch the thief. It was a good fucking plan.

"Why do you keep saying we?"

The voice interrupted his daydream. Confused, Ian looked at Mickey. "You're not gonna help me?"

"Not my problem, man. They're your tomatoes. I'm only here for the murder part, but you backed out of that, so... good luck."

Ian was about to argue, but he thought better of it. Maybe it would be easier to do this alone anyway. Leaning forward, he pressed one last chaste kiss on Mickey's lips, then swiftly got up. "Okay, then. Text me if you need anything. I'm going out."

"Where are you going?" Mickey straightened up for the first time since Ian got there. Ian felt a smile form on his face. His husband was very easy to read.

"Tomatoes, Mick. But, um, not your problem, right?" His voice was teasing and he knew his eyes were glinting with an unspoken challenge. "Don't know if I'll be home tonight. The stakeout might last a while. Guess I'll see you tomorrow. Keep the bed warm for me, would ya'?"

He turned to leave, but Mickey's hurried voice stopped him. "Hey, wait -- hold on a minute."

"Hmm?" So, so easy to read.

Scoffing, Mickey got up. "Let me get changed first. Then, we'll go catch the fucking tomato thief."

The smile Ian gave him was blinding.

----

"Tell me the plan again?"

Mickey was currently observing the expensive as fuck organic fruit in the WholeFoods store, gawking at the prices, but also simultaneously observing his husband as he picked through the best, reddest tomatoes he could find. Between the bitching and the sadness, Ian was all over the place -- it was hard for Mickey to understand why Ian was going so crazy over stolen tomatoes, but the thought of having Ian spend the day doing God-knows what kind of legal and illegal shit made him almost break out in hives. He would rather come along to control the hot mess than "warm the bed" as Ian had so casually put it. Fuck if he was gonna keep anything warm but Ian's dick in his ass.

Ian ignored Mickey's question and shoved a tomato at his face. "Do these look good enough? I want them to look natural, but also really good. What do you think?"

Mickey gave Ian an incredulous look, "Um... those look great... man, just pick whatever the fuck you want. This guy probably isn't very picky if he stole a ripe tomato."

Ian rolled his eyes. "It was a high quality tomato, Mickey." As an afterthought, he added, "Also, it could be a she."

"Maybe it's that fag with the big muscles? Maybe he has a thing for your tomatoes?" Mickey teased, only slightly bothered by the crush the blond guy in apartment 243 had on his tall redhead. It wasn't hard to glance over the sultry looks he gave Ian, or the flirtatious tone. Mickey liked giving Ian endless shit for it, just because of how defensive and uncomfortable Ian got when it was mentioned. It was pretty funny.

"Ugh, God Mickey. Seriously?"

"What? Am I wrong?"

Ian rolled his eyes so hard, Mickey was afraid he'd be shocked by the emptiness he found back there in a moment. Instead, Ian simply grimaced. "That guy really needs to back off. I literally couldn't have flashed the ring in his face more bluntly."

Mickey, using Ian being distracted by the guy, tied the bag Ian had been filling with tomatoes, discreetly moving them away from the spot they'd been standing in the past hour and a half, and towards the cash register.

"If he continues with that shit, I'll just start making out with you in front of him. Should get the point across."

Mickey only hummed in acknowledgment, content with the plan. He hated PDA but Ian made it so natural at times, there was no way he could say no to it.

"Wait, how did we end up here?" Ian glanced around him, only now noticing they were standing in line for the check-out. Mickey shook his head at his husband, who he had to admit was a himbo through and through. "Well, at least we got the tomatoes. The rest is easy."

"What is the plan, anyway?" Mickey repeated the question from before. Now, Ian didn't ignore him. He smirked at Mickey and told him not to worry about it.

"Not to --?" Mickey stuttered. "Ian, your ideas are not top-notch ideas. If I'm gonna try and catch a vegetable thief with you -- which may be the faggest thing I've ever said -- then I need to know the plan."

"Okay, fine." Ian huffed out a breath. "In short, we put these as bait, lure the asshole in, and wait to catch them in the act."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"...that's it?"

"What do you mean?" Ian smiled at the cashier as he took out a ten dollar bill from his pocket, paying for the overpriced vegetables -- or was it fruit? Mickey didn't really give a fuck.

"What do I mean? I mean, this may be the dumbest pan I've ever heard. I mean, sure, the tomatoes are good, but what, you just wanna have a stakeout the entire night? You do know the guy probably won't steal them straight away? We need to give it some time. Work out the suspect list, make sure we know who we're looking for."

Making it out onto the streets of Westside, Mickey was pleasantly greeted by the spring air -- he wouldn't admit it yet, but the Westside was something he was adapting to quite quickly. What used to make him uncomfortable when they first signed the lease changed completely in the past couple of months they'd been living here. It wasn't easy, but as the furniture rolled in, and as the apartment started feeling more like home, the whole "middle-class" life sort of followed. Both Mickey and Ian were still major fucking Southside trash. But now, they were Southside trash that lived in a pretty nice place that didn't have too many murders and attacks per day. That way, when they did happen, it felt nostalgic for Mickey. More special.

"I keep forgetting who you are. Takes a thief to catch a thief, I guess."

"I love how high of an opinion you have of me, Gallagher." Mickey replied teasingly, choosing to take it as a compliment.

Ian smiled, wrapping an arm around Mickey's shoulders, "The highest, baby."

Endeared by the nickname, Mickey blushed slightly. "C'mon man. Let's get back to the apartment. We got a stakeout that needs planning."

Ian nodded, but the arm stayed put the entire way home. Mickey didn't mind one bit.

----

"What about the lady from apartment 193? The one with the weird-ass dog?"

"Ian, she's, like, a hundred years old."

"I don't know, Mick. Seems kinda suspicious."

They were sitting on their newly-bought sofa in the living room, beers in hand, discussing the potential suspect list. Ian had his phone out, writing the names of the possible culprits down, attempting to uncover the thief by the way the crime was executed. It wasn't going that well.

Ian's suspect list was a mile long, all ranging from old women who had complimented his tomatoes months ago, to the weird guy who gave him the stink eye when they first moved in for no apparent reason. "He's out to get me, Mick. I know it." Mickey had told him to shut the fuck up, and presented his own suspect list.

His was a little more realistic, containing names such as Alan who most certainly didn't like the couple -- "maybe the reason for that is the tantrum, Mickey." "shut the fuck up, Ian." -- and the chick whose daughter had a massive crush on Mickey.

"Maybe she thinks I'm some sort of pedo. Not cool, man."

"She would have called the cops, Mickey, not stolen my tomatoes. Also, the whole thing is pretty cute."

Mickey blanched. "She's fifteen! And has a crush on me."

"She's cute, acting all flustered when you casually say "good morning" to her. She probably doesn't even know we're gay."

The girl, Courtney, lived in the apartment a couple doors down from theirs, and her apparent crush on Mickey was beyond adorable to Ian. She was amazed by his thug appearance, and she made it clear in the way she greeted him whenever she passed by the couple, ignoring Ian wholeheartedly. Mickey hadn't even noticed it until Ian pointed it out one night, and when he did, Mickey grimaced and groaned, muttering about how he really didn't need to be the cause of some kid's daydreams.

"Her mother is out to get me. And the way to get me is through you -- everybody knows that."

Ian's chest swelled at the probably insignificant sentence in Mickey's mind. "Aww, Mick. That's really sweet."

"I am sweet."

"It's not the mother. We have to come up with something else."

"Ugh." Mickey groaned. "Why can't we just do this the old-fashioned way?"

Ian simply raised an eyebrow.

"Listen, you already planted the bait when we got back, we have somewhat of a suspect list -- now, we just set up the camera."

"Camera?"

"Yes, Ian. A fucking camera."

"Where the fuck are we gonna get a camera?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Carl? He's probably got access to those hidden camera thingies at work, right? We just have him snatch one for us. We'll give it back." He then added as an afterthought, "Maybe."

Ian thought about it for a second and then sighed. "Fine, we'll do it your way."

"Better than crouching in a bush of roses in the middle of the night, Ginger."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Ian agreed, texting Carl simultaneously asking for the 'camera thingy'.

"Also, I'd probably never, under any circumstances, do that shit. Doesn't matter how much I love you."

"Uh-huh." Ian smiled at Mickey, amused.

"I'm serious." He affirmed. "Never. No fucking way."

---

"I can't believe you made me do this shit." Mickey grunted as he crouched behind a rose bush, eyes trained on Ian's vegetable patch.

"Your plan didn't work, so we're doing it my way."

"Well, I didn't really plan for the camera to get fucking broken!"

Their thief was way more skilled than they had initially thought. After they got the camera from Carl, Ian hid it well, making sure it caught the asshole on tape once they attempted to steal his goods again. And when, a couple days later, his store-bought tomatoes were ruined again, this time, squashed deliberately in the garden, he was so happy Mickey had the bright idea to record it.

Until he found the camera squashed along with the tomatoes. It still worked somewhat, and when Ian saw there was a video on it, his hopes had immediately risen, only to be squashed like the poor tomatoes when he saw the video got cut off in the middle of the night, right before the murder had taken place.

"We are gonna do this my way. And then, we'll kill them." He had told his husband.

"Sure, man. The red blood will fit right in with the tomatoes."

"Stakeout."

"No, Ian."

"The sex you'll get if you do this with me will be nothing like you'd ever experienced."

Mickey scoffed, "Sure."

Ian gave him a look full of mischief, and leaned into his ear to whisper his intentions. "Three words, baby: handcuffs, blindfold, tongue. As someone who claims he doesn't like ass-licking, you sure as fuck make some sexy, loud noises when I try it."

And that's how Mickey was there in the garden, at three in the morning with Ian, his dumbass husband, waiting for the thief to appear. Ian had planted another bait, and decided to have a stakeout that night, after loudly flaunting to the other gardeners how good his tomatoes had grown -- "They'll take the bait, Mikhailo, stop giving me that look."

"The ground is really fucking cold, man. Can't believe you convinced me to do this shit. No sex is worth this."

Ian, in response, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Mickey's neck. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah..." Mickey sighed in content. When Ian tried pulling away, he muttered, "No. Don't stop."

"Eyes on the tomatoes. You'll get your prize later."

Just as Mickey was about to protest, a figure appeared, inching towards Ian's vegetable patch. The couple stilled, eyes squinting, trying to see who the thief was -- who the fuck was it that had so easily crushed Ian's dreams of becoming a gardener, and had forced them to sacrifice their Friday night, crouching in the bushes instead of loudly fucking in their bed.

When the figure stepped even closer, Ian gasped. The culprit's face wasn't even covered and when Mickey saw who it was, he couldn't help it.

He laughed.

He laughed so hard, tears streamed down his face -- he wheezed at the sight they were greeted with. Ian hit his bicep roughly, but it was too late.

The girl had noticed them. She jumped in fear at the noise and her eyes zeroed in on the two men. Her young face paled and her eyes widened in fear.

"You!" Ian accused, jumping up to his feet, not as amused as Mickey was.

The girl jutted out her chin in defiance, not scared one bit. "Yeah. Me."

Ian stared at the fifteen-year-old. He had once considered her cute -- the crush she had on Mickey being nothing more but sickly sweet to him, perfect teasing material. But now, as he realized she was deliberately sabotaging his tomatoes because of, what? Jealousy? Oh, he was pissed.

"Why, Courtney? I've been working hard on those vegetables."

"Fruits." Courtney replied and Ian gaped at her, as Mickey kept on laughing.

"Not the point. Why? Are you jealous or something?"

"Why would I be jealous?" She asked, still acting tough for a girl who had just been caught in the act.

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because..." She glanced at Mickey who was still on the wet ground, observing the exchange. "Your tomatoes look better than mine, and I was planning on giving Mr. Milkovich my tomatoes but it wasn't gonna work if yours looked better. So, I took yours."

Mickey busted out laughing again. This time tears were actually streaming down his face, clouding his vision. "Mr." Wheeze. "Milkovich." Wheeze.

Courtney looked down, embarrassed. "Maybe I was a little jealous. I just wanted to be noticed."

"Stealing my husband's tomatoes sure got you on my radar, kid." Mickey muttered, still laughing loudly. Perhaps too loudly for three in the morning.

Courtney stilled. "You guys aren't just... roommates?"

Ian shook his head. "No, married."

Her mouth formed an 'oh' shape, and for a moment they stood in silence. Then she laughed, sheepishly. "Well, in that case... I'm sorry?"

Ian was still on the verge of a mental breakdown, but he chose to remain calm. "Just don't do it again, please."

"I won't. I swear." She raised her hands in the air in surrender.

"Go home, kid. It's three in the fucking morning. You're way past hour bedtime." Mickey pitched in from his seat on the soil.

She nodded once again, muttering a quick "sorry", and then ran out of the garden.

Ian turned to Mickey, still shocked. "The root of all of this has been you."

Mickey just smiled. "Not intentionally."

"She wanted to give you her tomatoes. So she ruined mine."

"Your tomatoes are the only ones I care about."

"This better not be a metaphor for my balls."

"Oh, I like those too."

Ian grinned at his husband. "At least we figured out who it was." He put his hand out towards Mickey. Mickey got the hint and grabbed it, pulling himself up.

"Yeah. It was the little girl all along."

Ian snorted, still a little angry.

"How about now, you and I go back to our warm, comfy bed where you can tie me up and fulfill your promise."

"You're not tired?" Ian raised his eyebrow at Mickey.

The smile Mickey gave him was genuine. "For you? Never."

"Maybe I could fulfill my promise. It'd get my mind of off the tomatoes."

"You can always use me as a distraction." Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian's neck and pulled him down, slotting their lips together.

"I'll show you how to handle your tomatoes properly." Mickey teased and Ian all but shoved him  back to the apartment.

The sex that night was fucking amazing. Mickey realized he wouldn't mind playing detective again if this was the reward he got. Suddenly, Ian's wish to plant thise tomatoes was the best thing that could have happened to Mickey in the long run. He wasn't surprised, though.

Ian really knew how to make the most of everything for Mickey. It was probably why he loved him so much.

This was a night Mickey would probably never forget.

#gallavich #shameless #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ianxmickey #shameless us #shameless fic #based on a prompt #enjoy!! #i loved writing this

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Limitless- Chapter 4

F/M Main Pairing: Y/N x Johnny Seo (Side Pairing: Y/N x Jaehyun)

Genre: Fantasy AU; Harry Potter AU

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: explicit language, unsolicited love potion drinking, and some Johnny angst at the end (is that a warning?)

Summary: It might sound cruel, but Y/N was willing to do anything if it meant getting Johnny Seo off her back...

Tag List: @do-you-like-riddles @ki-aechan @the-usernames-i-like-are-taken @rissaxworld @dru-shadow @completenctrash @haechans-sunflower @neocultech-baby @jaectizen @yutamist @lunavbm @seriousballoon @nekojohndo @n0teanoshade @lerissa @kickin--it​

A/N: Some stuff goes down in this part, so prepare accordingly...

Chapter Four

“It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love...” (Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince)

It was morning when I found Mark, Jisung, and Chenle sitting together in the library while they worked on a class project. I smiled in their direction as I approached them, returning Jisung’s greeting when I paused next to their table. “Mark,” I said, startling the younger boy who wasn’t expecting to be addressed. “Do you have a moment?”

Mark glanced at Jisung, and my step-brother merely shrugged in response. “Okay,” Mark said, and I wordlessly led him to a quieter corner of the library.

“Don’t say anything to your brother,” I started, and Mark was immediately suspicious.

“What’s this about, Y/N?”

“I was talking to Jaemin the other night in the Hufflepuff common room,” I said. “He told me that you were really good at making potions.”

“Yeah,” Mark agreed sheepishly. “It’s my best subject.”

“He told me the same thing,” I said, leaning in closer. “I have something to ask you, but you can’t tell your brother.”

“Why?”

“Because Taeyong might actually kick my ass if he found out,” I said, and perhaps it would’ve been humorous under any other circumstances to see the expression of shock petrifying Mark’s features. 

“Really?” Mark questioned with wide eyes.

I grinned at his innocent expression. “What do you know about love potions?”

“Love potions?”

I nodded, leaning back against one of the bookshelves. “Well?”

“Uh...I know that Amortentia is the most powerful love potion...or that’s what my textbook says.”

“What about something with less of an impact?”

“Oh! Like a prank or something?”

“Exactly!” I beamed, reaching over to squeeze Mark’s shoulder reassuringly. “Do you think you can make something like that for me?”

“What for?”

I shrugged. “It’s nothing that’ll get you in trouble.”

But Mark still hesitated, searching the area around us as if expecting a Professor to jump out of nowhere and deduct house points from Ravenclaw. “I don’t know, Y/N. You seem pretty cool, but the whole thing sounds risky...”

“I’ll owe you a huge favor,” I pleaded with him. “Anything that you want.”

“Anything?” Mark gasped with eyes full of possibilities that I dare not surmise.

“Within reason,” I added, unsure of how to process the unfamiliar gleam in his his golden-colored eyes.

“Okay,” Mark finally agreed. “But it won’t be very strong.”

“That’s fine,” I reassured him, and I watched Mark carefully as he started to return to his table.

“Oh, and Mark, I have one more thing to ask you...”

He turned back around, hesitantly interlocking his hands in front of him. “Yeah?”

I smirked at his timid nature. “Let’s keep this a secret from Johnny.”

One Week Later

It wasn’t very long thereafter that I learned of Mark’s inability to maintain any semblance of discretion concerning our plan. But I was still annoyed when Jisung brought up the subject while we were busy attending to our individual homework assignments. “I heard about what you’re planning with Mark.”

I rolled my eyes, turning my head to the side to look at Jisung. “He told you?”

Chenle snorted from next to us, relaxing on the wide couch nestled in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. “Mark is the worst person you could ask to keep a secret.”

I groaned at the revelation. “Just as long as Johnny doesn’t find out-”

“Why?” Jisung interrupted. 

“We’re not exactly on good terms,” I lied, hoping to assuage Jisung’s natural curiosity. But it was true, though, and that much had become apparent ever since the stunt Johnny had pulled with the Gryffindors during their tryout session. 

“Johnny’s really not so bad, Y/N,” Jisung said. “He always helps me and Haechan with our projects.”

“Maybe he’s more tolerable when it comes to first-years,” I grumbled.

“So, what are you doing with a love potion?” Chenle asked, leaning across Jisung to look at me. “Does it have something to do with Johnny?”

“Maybe it’s a surprise,” I said in response.

Chenle pouted when he realized that I wouldn’t tell him anything else, returning his gaze to the empty sheet of parchment in front of him. In the meantime, I tried to focus on my project, but I couldn’t help but wonder who else might’ve found out about my plans with Mark. It was true that he agreed to keep the secret from Johnny, but if ran his mouth to the wrong person, then Johnny could find out irregardless. And I shivered at the thought of Ten or Yuta discovering the truth.

“Jaehyun!” Chenle interrupted my concerning thoughts, and I sighed in relief at the mention of the name that had managed to provide me with good memories of Hogwarts thus far.

Jaehyun greeted his cousin warmly before turning his attention to me. “Y/N, I hope you’re not planning to skip out on dinner again.”

I grinned at his tone. “Is this an invitation?”

Jaehyun laughed, holding out a hand for me which I graciously accepted. He helped me into a standing position, wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulders as he led me closer to the door. “I missed you last night,” he said, and my heart fluttered inside my chest at his profound declaration.

I glanced back at Chenle and Jisung, watching them rush to put their things away before they could join us. “I hope it wasn’t too boring without me,” I commented, easily sliding into a comfortable conversation with Jaehyun as we walked to the Great Hall.

It was never anything special, but I liked the idea of spending time with my younger brother and his friends in the Great Hall. Yeah, the food was fine, but it sometimes made me feel a little nostalgic for Durmstrang when I encountered familiar meals. Nevertheless, I always tried to make the most of these nightly occurrences, and I guess the other Gryffindor students had grown used to me sitting with them instead of my Hufflepuff house mates.

Sometimes, we were joined by Taeyong, Jungwoo, and Jaehyun’s other friends who were aligned with different houses. For the most part, they were pleasant to be around, and they didn’t seem to care about my past or the stigma attached to my last name. In fact, more often than not, they made a great effort to include me in their conversations, even if that meant trying to seem knowledgeable about Quidditch.

But tonight was different, and I couldn’t quite figure out why I felt like something monumental was about to happen. It didn’t help that I continued to meet Johnny’s curious gaze from across the room, and he was looking in the direction of our table more often than not. I narrowed my eyes when I caught him staring again, glancing away when Haechan decided to sit down next to my brother.

“Guess what!” he whispered, looking around at the others with a familiar dark smirk.

“Another one of your pranks?” Chenle asked, laughing when Haechan shot him a glare.

“No,” he huffed, reaching into his robes to retrieve a dark bottle. “Look what I have.”

Jisung’s eyes flew open in recognition. “How did you get that?”

I spotted the dark bottle from over Jisung’s shoulder, recognizing it as a familiar wine brand that my father enjoyed. “That’s classified information,” Haechan said.

However, even I knew better than to let the younger boys mess around with alcohol. “Give me that,” I groaned, trying to snatch the bottle away from his hands.

“If you wanted some, you should’ve just asked!” Haechan grinned, popping the cork before filling a goblet with the remainder of the contents. “I’m not really in the mood for pumpkin juice again.”

“Yeah? But you don’t have to break the rules,” I grumbled.

“You should try this, Y/N,” Haechan said, sliding a goblet closer to me from across the table.

“Where did you get it?” I asked, holding the glass to sniff at the rim.

“I had someone sneak it in from Hogsmeade,” Haechan explained with a proud smile.

“You can’t do that.” Winwin suddenly intervened after catching wind of our conversation, and he appeared like he was ready to initiate another one of his infamous lectures.

I smiled at his evident disbelief before trying a sip of the drink. The smell was strangely alluring, and the taste reminded me of something sweet. “Woah,” I remarked, quickly downing the remainder of the beverage. 

“Hey!” Jisung protested, frowning when I returned the goblet to the table. “I wanted to try it!”

“You're too young!” I said, but I still felt my face warm when I realized how thoughtless I had been to consume the entirety of the goblet, especially when there was alcohol involved. But there was no rational explanation for the sudden, and all-consuming desire that had overtaken me when my tongue first tasted the liquid. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t even realize...”

I broke off when I detected something warm prickling at the back of my neck. I lifted my head to survey the room, and I found my eyes drawn to the Slytherin table where a familiar pair of dark eyes met mine like a magnet. I held my breath, feeling the unfamiliar coils of desire lick hot inside the pit of my stomach. 

Johnny smirked, and the arrogance would normally incite the most volatile parts of my anger, but I felt strangely attracted to the way he was looking at me. And I continued watching him as he rose from his table, making his way out of the Great Hall without giving me another glance. “Y/N?” Jisung questioned, but I couldn’t look away from the spot where Johnny had disappeared. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, waving him off as I collected myself. “I’ll be right back.”

Jisung was still concerned, but he didn’t voice his oppositions, and I was already overtaken by a peculiar insistence as I quietly followed Johnny’s footsteps into the empty hallways.

It wasn’t difficult to find Johnny - almost like he was expecting to see me around the corner, and I discovered him sitting on one of the benches against the walls. His smile was bright as he nodded towards the empty spot next to him. “Were you looking for me, Y/N?”

I paused for a second as the room swam into focus, but I couldn’t resist the pull directing me towards him, stumbling over my feet as I sat next to Johnny on the bench. “Why did you leave?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he explained, pulling me closer with a chuckle. “This is nice, don’t you think? We can act civil around one another, Y/N.”

“I'm always civil,” I told him, and it felt like my words no longer belonged to my consciousness, but to an outside force that has suddenly infiltrated my thoughts and taken command.

“I was wondering how Mark’s love potion would work,” Johnny continued, sighing when I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Word of advice: you shouldn’t ask Mark to keep secrets. But it was actually Haechan who suggested that we turn this around against you.”

“I don’t care,” I whined, fighting to get even closer to him. Because it felt like the space between us, however minimal, was still eclipsing. And Johnny hardly opposed my advances, stretching out one of his arms to wrap around my shoulders in a rather weak attempt to discourage my advances.

“This is how you should always treat me, Y/N,” Johnny remarked, and he was more than receptive to my touches. He didn’t seem to mind that I had practically wrapped myself around him like an octopus, inhaling the heavy scent of his cologne.

“Of course I should,” I replied, giggling when Johnny reached out to curl his fingers around my waist before dragging me into his lap. “This is nice,” I remarked, securing my arms around his neck.

“Oh?” Johnny questioned. “Do you like being close to me?”

I nodded, tracing my fingertips delicately against the well-defined line of his mandible. “You smell good.”

Johnny laughed, and I didn’t quite understand why the compliment was funny, but it was also nice to hear him sound so happy. “I guess the potion was stronger than what Mark told my cousin.” Johnny smirked, leaning in closer. “Do you want to know what the best part is? You won’t remember any of this.”

I frowned, wondering why he was talking like this when I was being so forthcoming with my feelings. “I really like you, Johnny,” I tried again.

“I wish you did,” Johnny said, and there was strange sadness to his tone that I didn’t appreciate. But maybe it was because he was still talking, and I could think of a million better things that we could do with our time. Which is why, when he attempted to open his mouth again, I didn’t allow Johnny to say anything else before I was kissing him, bunching the front of his robes between my hands as I held him closer to me like an anchor. 

It was like time had come to a stand-still, and, at first, Johnny was frozen in place, like he was too shocked to return my feverish kisses. “Johnny,” I whispered again, trying to slide my tongue between the tight purse of his lips.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Johnny gasped, pulling back just enough to look at me. “What the hell was that?”

“I’m trying to show you,” I said, lunging for him again. “You won’t believe what I’m saying, so I have to prove it to you.”

Johnny shook his head, but he was much less opposed the second time I tried to kiss him. And even though he made an effort to force me away from him, his hesitant pushes against my shoulders eventually exchanged themselves for an impossible hold, wrapping one arm around my waist to pull me tight to his front. 

“Fuck, this is good,” Johnny groaned, and we exchanged heavy breaths as he returned my affection with aggressive touches that managed to steal every last reserve of oxygen that remained inside my lungs.

“Let’s go back to your dorm,” I suggested, deciding that Johnny was finally right where I wanted him.

However, I was completely unprepared for him to abruptly jerk his head back, shoving me off his lap until I was sprawled out across the bench on my back. “That was too far,” Johnny said, drawing a trembling hand through his hair while I pouted back at him. 

“Don’t you want this?” I asked, reaching for him again, but Johnny sternly returned my hand before rising from the bench.

“Yeah, but I can’t do this to you,” he said, and there was something defeatist about his expression. “This was a stupid idea.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, desperate to regain his attention.

“Come on,” Johnny said. “I’ll take you back to your room.”

“Johnny!” I protested, but he rolled his eyes and grabbed my hand, pulling me along behind him as we started for the moving staircases. 

“I’m a total idiot for this,” Johnny said, and he appeared nothing short of conflicted. “You were the one who tried to give me the potion!”

“I would never do that!” I gasped, and Johnny shook his head.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Johnny remarked. “You’re not in control of your actions, and as much as I’d love to get back at you for this whole thing, I’m actually a much bigger gentleman than you give me credit for.”

“I know that, silly,” I said, holding tighter to Johnny’s hand as I swung our arms together. “That’s part of the reason why I like you.”

“You don’t really mean that, Y/N,” Johnny said bitterly, and there was a long silence between us until I realized that we were close to the Hufflepuff dorm. 

“Johnny?” I eventually questioned when we paused outside of the entrance.

“I know you don’t like me,” he repeated with a much firmer tone, like he was trying to convince himself, and he quickly pressed one finger to my lips before I could try to counter him. “When Haechan told me about your plan to give me the potion, I wanted to embarrass you. Because I know that’s what you planned to do to me! But I guess there was another part of me that maybe wanted to take advantage of the situation...”

Johnny trailed off, clearing his throat anxiously as he knocked on door, summoning the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff who scrutinzed the two of us with narrowed eyes. “Password?” the painting requested, and Johnny looked back at me.

“Winter Blizzard,” I replied, and Johnny wordlessly led us both inside, walking up the stairs leading to the girl’s portion of the dormitory.

“This isn’t what I had planned,” Johnny said. “Which room is yours?”

I pointed to the door, and Johnny cautiously opened it just enough to look inside before letting out a sigh of relief. “My roommates are probably still at dinner,” I said.

Johnny nodded, swinging the door open even wider, drawing me closer inside. “I’d say that you owe me, but you won’t remember this, and I’m pretty sure that you’d kick my ass if you were in your right mind.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, squealing when I jumped on top of my bed, looking back at Johnny with a bright grin. “Tonight was really fun.”

Johnny scoffed at my comment, but there was a strange glimmer of affection in his dark gaze. “As long as someone enjoyed it.”

“You didn’t?” I asked, giving him my best pout while reaching out for his hand which Johnny reluctantly allowed.

He was quiet for a moment, studying the way I gently ran my thumbs across the smooth skin of his palm. “Yeah,” he conceded. “I liked it.”

“Good,” I said, falling back against my pillows after releasing his hand. “Are we going to meet again like this? When should we tell the others?”

Johnny smiled, shaking his head as he looked down at the floor before addressing my questions. "You’re lucky that I like you, Y/N,” Johnny said. “But let’s keep this a secret between us, okay?”

I nodded obediently, and Johnny chuckled before leaving me alone in the solitude of the dormitory.

The next morning, I woke-up early with one of the worst headaches that I had experienced in a long time. It was practically splitting my skull, and I groaned as my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Everything was hurting, and I carefully made my way to the bathroom before any of my roommates noticed my unexpected dilemma. 

What happened last night? I wondered, looking at my pale reflection in the mirror, cupping my hands below the water and splashing it against my face.

“Hey, Y/N,” Lisa said, joining me next to the sink. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head and sending tiny droplets of water onto the counter-top. 

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but I also had very few intentions of telling my roommate that I couldn’t remember anything that had happened to me the night before. And I studied her from the corner of my eye, watching as she messed with her hair while wearing a look of complete concentration. I resisted the urge to groan, and I left the bathroom in a rush to finish getting ready in time for breakfast.

Of course, despite my repeated reassurances that the headache would eventually pass, it haunted me for most of the morning, following me all the way to the Great Hall. Graciously, the sight of Jisung managed to bring some solace to the chaos, and I sat down next to my step-brother with my best attempt at a smile. “Guess what?” he asked, leaning in closer so that I could hear him over everyone else.

“Hmmm?” I asked, sighing in relief after taking a drink of the pumpkin juice that I usually barely tolerated.

“Jaehyun said that he was gonna let Chenle and I help with the Quidditch team this year!”

“Oh?” I grimaced because Jisung’s high-pitched squeal did no favors for my suffering head.

“I guess we’re, like, assistants or something,” Jisung continued, taking a bite of food before widening his eyes as if remembering something. “Where were you last night?” Jisung asked.

It was a simple question, but he didn’t need to know how frustrated I felt because I couldn’t remember anything past dinner. “I don’t know,” I told him truthfully. “I can’t remember anything after I left the Great Hall.”

Jisung frowned. “Maybe you drank too much of the wine.”

“What?”

“Haechan let you drink that stuff he stole from Hogsmeade,” Jisung elaborated. “Maybe it was too strong.”

I turned my head to the side to locate Haechan at the Slytherin table, laughing next to Johnny and his friends without a single care in the world. It would be easy to accept Jisung’s explanation - to write off my condition as nothing more than a careless hangover. “But I didn’t even drink that much,” I murmured.

It was all I could think about, and I tracked Haechan’s movements once he left the Great Hall. Because I was determined to get to the bottom of things, and it would start with the second-year student who seemed all too pleased with himself after sitting next to his cousin. But first, I had to deal with my classes while struggling with my pounding headache.

Unfortunately, no matter what I did, the condition persisted through the day, and I dreaded having to endure Johnny Seo during potions even more than usual. “You seem different,” Jungwoo said, politely walking with me to my potions class. 

“Really?” I asked, surprised hat Jungwoo had mentioned anything. “I’ve just had a headache all morning.”

“You know,” Jungwoo said, pausing outside of my classroom. “I don’t think anyone would fault you for missing classes.”

“They’re too important,” I said. “And I don’t feel that bad.”

Jungwoo nodded, even though I could tell that he didn’t believe me. “If you’re sure...”

“I’ll be okay,” I said, offering him a smile. “But thank you, Jungwoo.”

“Well, Jaehyun would be pissed if I didn’t ask,” Jungwoo said, laughing like it wasn’t completely unexpected.

But he was gone before I could question him, and I decided that I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about the implications of his statement. Instead, I hesitantly walked into the potions classroom, groaning when I realized that Johnny was already waiting for me at our usual table. His smile was especially wide, patting the chair next to him. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” Johnny said, and there was an upbeat signature to his tone that made me feel immediately on edge.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” I grunted, crossing my arms over my chest as I glared at him.

“No reason,” Johnny chirped, looking at me with curious eyes. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered. 

“Seriously,” Johnny said, and his smile was gone as he studied me. “Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick,” I said, reaching for my notebook. “I just have a headache.”

“Really?” Johnny asked, and I found myself hesitating when his gaze lingered on my lips.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said, forcing my attention back to the front of the room. “Why are you so interested? It’s not like you care.”

Professor Zhang entered the room at that moment with a sharp command for everyone to prepare their cauldrons. I sighed as I reached for mine, dragging it closer while I noticed that Johnny had yet to react to the simple directive. In fact, Johnny was wearing a fierce scowl, and I’m sure that the rest of our classmates were just as shocked to see Johnny stand up in the middle of class before walking out the door without another word.

#nct #nct fanfic #nct hogwarts au #nct johnny fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct angst #nct fluff #johnny seo #johnny fanfic

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (16/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: The High Lords' meeting! After this chapter, Bloom & Bone will be going on hiatus until August 19th. My goal is to be able to post straight through to the finish after that. In the meantime, I'll be launching a giveaway tomorrow on my Instagram, so follow @house.of.hurricane to find out more. You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️

Lucien has been over every word of Tamlin’s speech, has brilliantly strategized his way through each potential question and argument, every terrible scenario and rousing win. Still, despite the ocean breeze wafting through the window, the scent of ripened fruit, it’s all he can do to keep from pacing as he waits for the rest of the High Lords to arrive.

Tarquin and his retinue are stationed near the door, ready to welcome their guests as they enter. Tamlin stands at the window, watching the waves, his hands clasped behind his back, and Lucien can tell, in his posture, that each muscle is coiled to spring. He wants to walk over, remind Tamlin that he cannot look desperate, that he should be the commander he’s already proved to be over centuries, the High Lord who killed Amarantha, who defied Hybern, not the beast lurking in the woods, but if Tarquin hears, if there is gossip that the High Lord of Spring requires constant reassurance, equivalent damage will be done. Instead he walks to the table set at the side of the room, laden with fruit that glisten in the summer sunlight.

Elain comes to stand next to him, the beading on her dress giving away her trajectory. Melis had completed the intricate embroidery on the golden yellow silk late yesterday, the only activity she’d been allowed in her makeshift prison cell. And seeing Elain in the dress before they winnowed here, Lucien understands her insistence on Melis’ abilities. The golden embroidery, beaded with hundreds of pearls and tiny diamonds, the scattered gemstones which make her golden brown hair look like something crafted by a master jeweler, all combine to give Elain a glowing presence. She has always been beautiful, even as a scared human girl, but now she could easily be mistaken for a goddess. Or a female anticipating her mating ceremony, which is exactly the tale she’s helped him weave.

“He knows the speeches,” she murmurs, spearing a slice of starfruit.

“Tam always likes a mission,” he says, forcing himself to sound confident, the mask of the courtier slipping into place, confident and not a little awful. “If only today’s involved a sword.”

Before she can respond, the delegation from the Dawn Court enters, Thesan and his mate leading a group of High Fae and Peregryns, all bland courtly smiles that make Lucien aware of the small size of his own party, only the three of them with so many favors to ask. He manages to greet them with a real smile. He knows Thesan’s court well enough, likes them well enough, this court of tinkerers and inventors and alchemists, but knows they eye him now with real suspicion, aware of his shifting alliances. They all watched Tamlin’s outburst at the last meeting of the High Lords, likely wonder why he stands at the side of this High Lord. He steels his spine, introduces Elain with a deference that is mostly fictional and makes her blush.

The skepticism does not fade from the eyes of the new entrants, the denizens of the Winter Court and the Day Court arriving together, Helion and Kallias making stilted conversation, the High Lord of Day slipping on the haughty mask he prefers for inter-court business. Lucien presents Elain to Helion as a stranger, and her mask of shy amusement does not falter even with Helion’s dismissive greeting. Helion had warned her, two nights ago in his private library, after Lucien and Elain had recounted their visit to Koschei’s world, the sensation of the magic, which Lucien had spent hours afterwards diagramming.

The greetings continue, all eyes on the glittering, golden female in their midst. Met with Kallias’ ill regard, Viviane’s curiosity, Elain’s expression does not falter. Lucien thinks, even as he tries to focus himself on the task at hand, that Vassa would be so proud of her in this moment, the way Elain has learned to use her quiet loveliness as a diplomatic asset.

As the room fills, Tamlin still stands alone in the window. Even when the Night Court enters, the largest group and the loudest, too affectionate for the formality court technically requires, Tamlin continues in his contemplation. Elain shifts from foot to foot under the eyes of her sisters, glances that give nothing away, not fear or sympathy, love or hate.

“They love you,” Lucien mutters to her, as he detects the looming breakdown in her facade.

“But what if I’m the monster?”

There is a question beneath her question, but the room has filled with all the expected guests. Beron, as they’d anticipated, had never sent a response to their invitation.

“For now,” he tells Elain, extending his hand, to lead them to their spot in the assembly, “you are soon to be the Lady of Spring. Or else they’ll think we’re secretly lovers.”

He can tell from the brief flare of her nose that if the eyes of the room weren’t on them, she would try to level a blow at him, too confident from the training Tamlin has provided. In return, he shoots a smirk her way, offers the expression to everyone who watches, who might doubt their small group, its sincerity and affection. As he leads Elain to her chair, she follows his lead by offering her own bright smile, winking at her as she settles her skirts. A bride whose joyous anticipation overflows onto every interaction.

Lucien had warned Tamlin that Tarquin might conveniently forget to make an introduction, and sure enough, the High Lord of Summer lounges in a position of honor as befits his status as host, and despite the expectancy that rises in the room, he does not speak, only watches.

Now, Lucien thinks, crossing his ankle over his knee, trying to look artfully bored, start speaking now.

He has never known himself to be a daemati, but this is exactly the moment when Tamlin turns from the window and begins his address.

“I have asked you to come here because I discovered an army from the Autumn Court, led by their High Lord, marching through my lands on their way to the human realms. If our goal in this realm is peace between the fae and humans, this army must be contained, or there soon will be no human lands in Prythian, only more Autumn Court.”

Tamlin pauses, as Lucien had suggested, and in his chair, Lucien tries not to slump in his seat from relief. He’d spoken confidently but had never crossed the line into arrogance, his warrior’s posture working in his favor, as if he would strike Beron at any moment if only the rest of the room would agree.

But the silence in the room drags on. Lucien had anticipated an interruption, confusion or indignation, the tone of this meeting to be revealed at the outset. He had been so sure of this that he’d mapped the rest of Tamlin’s speech according to the tone of whatever comment punctuated his opening salvo. But the High Lords and their chosen courtiers only wait for Tamlin to continue.

He clears his throat.

“My army has been severely depleted. I acknowledge my own contributions into its small numbers, but I am asking that you--”

“All of our armies were hit hard during the war with Hybern,” Kallias says, the winter wind in his voice, cold and biting, “but we have been hard at work restoring our lands. All the while, you have been in the forest.”

Tamlin’s face goes pale, then his cheeks are red, blotchy even against his tanned skin. Be honest, Lucien had told him, but now he finds himself clutching the seat of his chair, knowing that Tamlin will explode in a rage.

And then he looks at Elain, meets her eyes for a few long seconds. His demeanor changes, calms, and then Tamlin heaves a sigh so deep the whole room can hear it.

“You are correct, Kallias,” he says, raising his gaze so that he addresses the High Lord of Winter. “I failed my people. And I -- I will tell you what the stories do not. Why I hid. I believed that any invading army, any territory bent on expansion, would rule them better than I could. Because I had failed them over and over. I failed to protect them from Amarantha, sacrificed them for love of a female who rightly knew she needed to leave me, left them to the whims of Hybern because I thought only I could know what was best. These are not the actions of a worthy High Lord. But they were my actions. You are right to judge me. I have no great explanation which will transform me in your eyes. Only recently have I begun to seek out the citizens of my court, to listen to them. I have canceled the ancient tithe which my ancestors instated millennia ago. I am visiting the villages every day so that I may learn in time how to rule them well. Still, these are farmers and weavers, blacksmiths and seamstresses and poets. It is possible that they will go to war for a noble cause. They may still have that much faith in me. But it is unlikely that they will prevail against an army.”

Kallias has no rebuttal to that rush of words, and Lucien wonders if maybe this silence is appreciative. He tries to meet Tamlin’s eyes, but that green gaze goes out over the crowd, meeting each face in its turn. He has just spoken of his failure, let the horror of it rise in his voice, and still, on his face he wears the look a ruler has, when addressing beloved subjects.

“And how can we be sure this isn’t an attempt to impress your mate?” Feyre’s voice is gentle and angry and devastated. Tamlin winces at the sound of it, retreating back into himself. They had discussed Feyre, what she might say, but the reality of her, that deep kindness that undergirds her every action, is unsettling when it turns to fury.

“I treated you horribly, High Lady,” he says, his voice scraping, raw in his throat. “I know that -- I deserve your scorn, always. I am sorry for how I treated you.”

“How can we be assured that this isn’t an act?” Feyre’s voice has not changed in pitch or tone, and still it is clear in the room as a ringing bell.

“Have you ever known me to have an abundance of self-control? The kind required for that level of deception?” The laugh in his words is ragged.

“Elain is my sister,” Feyre says.

“I swear on my life that I will not harm her.”

“And she is free to leave your court whenever she chooses?”

“Always, High Lady.”

In the quiet that follows, Lucien hazards a glance at Elain. Her face is drawn and pale, her brown eyes a whirlwind. I am tired of being an ornament, she’d said, although she’d also agreed this was the best play, her relationship to Tamlin a better lure than even the candid admission of his failures. That, mute and glittering among the rulers of Prythian, she would be more effective. Still, he understands the toll even a well-intentioned role requires, especially beneath the gaze of her sisters, the rest of the Night Court.

“You were speaking of the army you require, Tamlin?” Feyre asks into the quiet, her voice a little gentler. In response, the room seems to breathe a sigh of relief.

“The Autumn Court army has at least a thousand troops, from what I can tell. They are currently stationed within my borders. I am not sure if the plan was to provoke me into an ill-fated attack, or join with another force on the coast. I have not been able to make a close enough approach. I have also not been able to discern whether any of Beron’s sons have been involved, the sole exception being Lucien, of course.”

“Azriel can assist you,” Rhysand drawls, studying Feyre’s hand as he entwines their fingers. “Nobody notices a few rogue shadows.”

The tone in the room shifts at this remark, and whatever he might feel about Rhys personally, Lucien is grateful. The problem was never going to be the action taken. Beron has invaded another High Lord’s lands and threatens to undo their tentative peace, and fighting against any of this is right and proper, even honorable, for the other High Lords. The problem was always going to be Tamlin himself. Even with every note hit beautifully, the way he’s spoken and carried himself today, his history, his failures, his isolation would make any potential ally tentative. But an offer of help from a nominal enemy shows everyone else that they can ally with Tamlin without fear of reprisal.

“But regarding your forces, while I am happy to offer you an army of volunteers, I will not force the citizens of the Day Court to fight simply because it’s taken you years to recognize your mistakes.” Helion’s arms are crossed over his chest. There’s a murmur in the room which suggests this sentiment is not unwelcome. Tamlin’s face clouds. Control yourself, Lucien thinks at Tamlin, keeping his expression a careful blank. Beron might not be present, but there are still too many eyes to safely acknowledge the High Lord who fathered him, to show any disappointment. Perhaps later Helion will offer additional forces.

“The Valkyries will make up the gap,” Nesta Archeron says, from the back of the Night Court retinue, a death-queen in her black gown. “I still remember what it was like to be human.”

“The Winter Court will send volunteers,” offers Kallias, his fingers tented.

“We will put out the call in our court as well,” Thesan says, his mate nodding along, which could mean Peregryn support, particularly valuable given Beron’s lack of aerial forces.

“As will the Night Court. But I do not think we cannot offer the Illyrians.” Cassian, looking grim, nods his agreement with Rhysand. Lucien had thought the talk of rebellion had been put down, but apparently the losses against Hybern have caused a more permanent rift.

Now, everyone turns to Tarquin, awaiting his answer. But the young High Lord does not betray nerves. Instead, the serene smile on his face is a mirror of Elain’s.

“I will offer you my army on one condition,” he begins, and somehow Lucien knows that Tamlin will be able to meet it, that the threat from the Autumn Court will be put down, that they can go back to saving Vassa, and he almost allows himself to smile when the door bangs open, nearly thrown off its hinges.

Beron stands in the doorway, alone. Despite the wards in place, Lucien would have thought the position dangerous, except for the power which ripples off the High Lord of Autumn, more than he has ever known this male to possess, not in all the years Lucien lived under his roof, or in the years Beron did his best to be a terror at any social or diplomatic gathering.

Elain turns toward him, her eyes wide with concern. When she begins to mouth at him, he thinks she’s asking if he’s all right and he waves her off. She plucks at his sleeve, keeps moving her lips until she realizes she’s mouthing Koschei.

The magic is depthless and flashing, lightning in a howling storm. He’s encountered it before, run towards it with a sword in hand, and suddenly the sound of Vassa’s screams fills his mind.

“I see you decided to begin without me,” Beron says, and even his voice has changed. Gone is that jealous, brittle anger. Now he’s practically smirking, knowing what he holds over them. The immense power he wields, now greater than that of anybody in the room.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Rhys shoots back, positioning himself so that Feyre is behind him. “You must have known you could not cross into the Spring Court without at least informing Tamlin.”

“And you must have thought you were quite the politician, conspiring with Eris. You’ll notice that my firstborn isn’t here with me today.”

Murmurs in the room at that secret revealed. Lucien feels himself begin to rise from his chair, wants to charge at the male who raised him, this curse of a father. Elain’s hand is on his arm, pulling him back.

“How does your tethering spell work?” she asks, and at first he thinks she is only trying to distract him, keep him from doing something foolish, and then he sees the determined set of her jaw, realizes she’s formulating a plan.

“It won’t be enough to carry all these people,” he says, shame welling up inside him. His magic has never been a well of raw power, but a matter of finesse, quickness, a well-placed strike. “And who knows what Beron would do if we left this court without defense.”

Near the door, Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel have stood to block off Beron from the rest of the group, the Peregryns flanking them, though their expressions are noticeably reluctant. Rhys’ covert politicking will not be well received. No matter how disagreeable Beron might be, the rule of the High Lord is absolute in his own territory.

While Lucien considers this, tries to map out the next step, the declarations his father will make, Elain darts forward, grabs Rhys’ sleeve, and whispers something into his ear. He disappears, and when Elain dips her head to convey the message to Feyre, the High Lord of the Night Court quickly vanishes. She turns around then, nods at Tamlin, who unsheathes his sword in a fluid motion, strides toward the High Lord of Autumn without hesitation.

“What are you doing here, Beron?”

“I’ve come to watch you attempt to convince these bleeding hearts that you’re a competent ruler. You think I didn’t spot you in the woods? My army is better trained than that.”

One moment, Beron is blocked by a dozen trained warriors, and the next, he simply appears in the middle of the circle where the High Lords are clustered. There is no trace of magic, not even the lightning that betrays Koschei’s involvement in this tableau. He feels Elain stiffen in her seat.

“You will always be too weak to achieve the peace you desire,” Beron says, looking on each High Lord in turn, smirks when he notes Rhys’ absence. “Has it occurred to any of you, how the Night Court hoards its power? Do you ever wonder what it will do, how it will strike, as soon as you step one toe out of line? Why Tamlin invites you as a courtesy to this meeting, when all he needs is Rhysand’s approval in order for the rest of you to beg?”

“You are becoming boring,” Helion drawls through the developing monologue, though Lucien knows his mind is working quickly, laying out all the ways this meeting could develop, the course of action. Wondering if there’s a kernel of truth in Beron’s ranting. “What are you doing in Tamlin’s territory?”

“You think I’d tell you in the name of peace and cooperation?”

“There are only so many options,” Helion shoots back, and Lucien knows on instinct alone that he’s basking in this moment, when he can trounce Beron with his mind alone. “Invading the Spring Court, invading the human lands of Prythian, invading the human lands on the continent. I don’t think even you would be stupid enough to invade Rask or Valhallan, and there’s no reason they’d ally with a single High Lord. Unless Koschei has made you a substantial promise.”

Beron’s face curls into a snarl.

“I’m sure you and your son have spent hours speculating,” he says, and then he turns to the small group from the Spring Court. To Elain. But first his eyes rest on Lucien, suggestive and damning and enraged.

Tamlin strides forward, his sword in one hand and his power gathering in the other, and on instinct, Lucien opens his hand and builds a wall of flame and light around them, so bright he knows it’s blinding to everyone on the outside. He’s always had to hold in half his power to avoid some catastrophic discovery, but now that Beron has decided to officially reveal his parentage, he can ensure that the HIgh Lord of Autumn cannot land a blow.

“You will not harm my friends,” he says, willing the hurt and anger from his voice. This male cannot torture him any more. He is no longer alone in this world.

“What if I proposed a trade? Your so-called mate for the human queen you think you love?”

Despite the light he’s conjured, the world goes dim around Lucien.

For years, it was an act of will not to think of Jesminda, her smile, her expression in repose, the sounds she made at the back of her throat when he kissed her. The color of her eyes and hair, the way her hands had sliced through the air when she’d spoken. Because though all of these memories on their own would have been painful, each memory was intermingled with the sights and sounds of Beron’s torture and killing. Her screaming and her blood, her skin lifted from her like a garment, his horrible relief when she’d finally gone still, saved from torment at last.

All along, he has told himself that there is no way that Koschei is subjecting Vassa to the same treatment. He has been determined to keep her alive. But if Beron is involved, then it is possible that Vassa’s life hangs by a thread. Already he can hear her screams when Koschei grabbed her, rising to drown out every other sound in the room. It is likely that if he hands Elain over, that in moments those will be her screams, instead.

“You need to give me up,” Elain murmurs to him, barely audible over the crackle of the wall of sunlit flames.

He is about to argue with her, offer up an alternate plan, when he sees the expression on her face. He’s seen it on Tamlin’s face dozens of times, the warrior ready to lead their troops into battle.

As he gives her the barest nod, he watches her mouth one word to him, in the same motion as she reaches back to squeeze Tamlin’s wrist.

Once Lucien drops his shield, Beron does not wait for Lucien’s assent. He lunges forward and grabs Elain by the back of her neck. Her startled cry, the scrambling from Nesta on the other side of the room, is drowned out by a sound of a dozen tapestries being torn in half.

When the sound dissipates, the world around Lucien is barren and gray, robbed of color. It’s saturated with Koschei’s magic. Beron’s now seems like a poor echo.

And that same High Lord now whirls on him, flinging Elain’s body in front of his own, a shield.

“Take me back to Prythian or I’ll destroy her,” he growls. But Beron’s eyes dart around at the world, the wide open plains and stubby dried grass which offer no cover, no protection. He does not have Lucien’s talent for the analysis of magic, but even he must sense the air clotted with unsettled magic, thicker and more terrifying than anything in Prythian.

“I think you’ll find that will only strand yourself,” Lucien says, dropping the tethering spell between himself and Elain as a precaution, schooling his face blank as Tamlin approaches, then presses a dagger to Beron’s neck.

“Let go of my mate,” he growls, his power filling the plain, “or I swear I will drop this shield and leave you for the monsters of this world to feast on.”

For years, Lucien thought that this High Lord was his father, and for this reason only he wonders at the lack of sympathy or remorse at the blood that wells at the edge of Tamlin’s blade, the rage and horror on Beron’s face as he sees the green-gold shield formed by Tamlin’s magic, the creature on the outside, a giant winged snake, circling and looping, its prey so close and yet untouchable.

“And you will not defend the male who raised you?” Beron’s eyes are on Lucien now, which is when Lucien realizes the true extent of the High Lord’s fear. In all his life, Beron has never thought he had anything to give.

“Let go of Elain first,” he says, calm as he’s never been before with Beron. He holds his composure when Beron’s fingers loosen, when the knife falls from her neck and Tamlin pulls her behind him.

Then, before the High Lord of Autumn can lash out with a power that is more formidable than Lucien’s, he summons the light and fire of his magic and drives it in a bolt through Beron’s heart.

For a moment, Beron looks stunned, and then there is a horrible gurgle in his throat. The grass crackles with the weight of his collapsing body.

Lucien doesn’t realize Tamlin has moved until he hears his friend’s voice in his ear.

“He would have killed us all without a second thought,” Tamlin is saying, extending his sword toward Lucien, in case he’d like to bring down a final blow. Lucien waves it away. The male he called father for far too long is dead now, his blood soaking into the dirt of this barren world.

“The Autumn Court will be in chaos,” he says, his eyes still on Beron’s body. Even knowing that Beron is dead, he still expects it to rise, to attack Elain and Tamlin, to summon Vassa from Koschei’s side and destroy her.

He cannot believe that after three centuries, he is finally free.

Minutes pass, or maybe days, and he watches the world grow dark outside Tamlin’s shield, the monsters outside circling. He does not know what happens next, in this new world, in any other. He can do anything he wants, and yet those possibilities all overwhelm him, are mixed with all the sneers and beatings Beron delivered over the years, the punishments because he was not like his brothers, was not cruel enough.

“We need to return soon, Lucien,” Elain says eventually, her voice as gentle as a Spring Court breeze. “Do you think that we should bring his body?”

“My brothers will know he’s died. The power will rest on one of them.”

“The funeral rites?”

He wants to tell Elain that she does not understand what it is to have a father who doesn’t just misunderstand you, but spends your trying to unmake and destroy you, who was never your father at all, but her eyes on his are so earnest, so instead he says, “I gave Beron a kinder death than he deserved. My brothers can retrieve his body if they feel so inclined.”

Elain gives a little nod, and Tamlin’s hand is on his shoulder, hard and solid, and so Lucien takes one last look at the corpse he once knew as his father, winds the tethering spell around their three living bodies, and watches this world fade into the one he knows.

&

&

&

The High Fae male appears at the lake a few hours before sunset, and though Vassa cannot quite comprehend what she sees, she studies him, the red of his hair, the arch of his ears, the elegant jacket which is torn and bloodied, the rich fabrics giving way to the pale skin below. He is a study in the colors of autumn, the gold of his eyes and the greens and browns of his clothing, embroidered to match his glinting gaze. The red hair that is so familiar that Vassa gasps, the sound subsumed by the body of the firebird.

This male is not Lucien but so much like him. He paces the lake, his hands tearing at his chest and shoulders, the places where Koschei’s spell weighed down on her hardest in Prythian. Another captive, then. The only one she’s ever seen. Whom Koschei has ever allowed her to see.

Her brain tries to put together the forces that have brought this not-quite-Lucien as a captive to her lake, but the firebird was made for seeing the world too deeply without the mind to comprehend that vision. Once again, for the thousandth time since Koschei took her captive again, Vassa is forced to bide her time.

As the sun makes its way to the horizon, Vassa formulates her questions for this male, bubbling inside her skin as she circles the waters. They are mostly stupid questions, but they will form a ladder toward the information she needs.

Not for the first time, she wishes that she could fly, get a better sense of her surroundings, understand whether this male is one of many or if he has been deposited here alone. But lately Koschei has taken the strength from her wings, made her too weak to fly.

Instead, Vassa waits until the sky darkens, glides to the edge of the lake, and becomes herself again. With her human eyes, she recognizes Eris Vanserra instantly.

Only, he is not looking at her. His gaze is off in the middle distance, and his body glows, the power thick and sulfurous around him, the center of a flame.

Finally, his gaze snags on her.

“My father is dead,” he says by way of greeting. “Our agreement to Koschei is broken. So if you’d like to leave the death-lord, Queen Vassa of Scythia, I suggest you start running now.”

She does not bother with so much as a nod, only hitches up her skirts and starts running for the woods, away from Koschei’s home.

Behind her, she hears Eris footsteps, hears the crackle of the trees she’s passed, now set aflame.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #elain is my queen #tamlin #tamlin redemption arc #queen vassa #lucien vanserra #elain x tamlin #tamlin x elain #tamlain #lucien x vassa #vassa x lucien #band of exiles #vassien #vucien #vassien is goals #post acosf #acosf spoilers #acosf fanfiction #spring court #novel length acotar fanfiction #feysand #nessian #gwnriel #acosf #elain acotar #elain acosf #pro tamlain

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through. 

     It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

     Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more.      “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

     “Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake.      “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

     “Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.”      “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground.      “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

     Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her.      “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

     The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

      They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

     “As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

     As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they?      “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.      “Money is not the motive,”  she returns, curt.

     An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

     “This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule.      The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. 

      In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle. 

     Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in.      “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states.      “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene.      “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

     “Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation.      “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.”      Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

     “There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.”      The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used.      “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies.      “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes.      “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up.      “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up.      “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

     Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate?      A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.      “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

     While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders. 

     Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.      “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

     The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification.      “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”      The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.”      “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly.      “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder.      “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more.      “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

     Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near.      What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

     “That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”      Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. 

      It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it. 

     Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

     “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

     Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

     “We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?”      Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open.      “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?”      “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

     “What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital.      “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters.      Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”      “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

     He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

     “She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic.      “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar.      “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--”      “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes.      “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

     With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with.      Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case.      Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.”      “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges.      She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by.      “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him.      “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

     The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

     Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?”      “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs.      Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

     “I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.”      “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier.      Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

     Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

     The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?”      “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

     Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point.      “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in.      “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says.      “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

     The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag.      “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders.      “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.      “Ouch,” Dean comments.

     The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

     “That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that  could point you fellas towards a suspect.”      Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

     “This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.”      “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully.      “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

     The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving.      “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.”      “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up.      “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

     The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other.      “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined.      “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?”      “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital.      “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky.      “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

     “Sullivan.”      “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase.      “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?”      Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing.      “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

      Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated.      “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him.      Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. 

      “Zoë?”       “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?”      The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm.      “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--”      “- You FIGURED?!”

     Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in.      “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother.      Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

     “We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively.      “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!”      “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman.      “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!”      “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

     “No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…”      “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

     Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating.      “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala.      Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude. 

     Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but  smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes.      “Just say it,” he mutters.      “Say what?”      “You know what.”      Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in.      His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.”      “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

     Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call.      “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders.      “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

     But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.”      “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.      “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.”      “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

     He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene.      As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?”      “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly.      “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

     The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

     “Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.”      “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer.      “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up.      “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head.      “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.”      “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

     “Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips.      “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.”      “Deal.”

     Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker.      “What?” he snaps, still mad at her.      “What are you up to?”      The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time.      “Depends,” he answers, curt.      “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.”      “So?”      “Might be something.”

     Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë.      “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!”      “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns.      “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

     They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check.      “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

     “I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same.      “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”      “I don’t know...”      Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got.      “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.”      Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare.      “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left.      “Dean?”

     The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again.      “Fine,” he utters, barely audible.      “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?”      “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.”      “So, do we meet up or what?”      “Yeah, sure.”      “Where are you at?”

     Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on.      “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her.      “Shit motel.”      He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.”      “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.”      “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.”      “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!”      “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees.      “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

     Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food.      “Zo?” he interrupts.      “Yeah?”      “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

     The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused.      “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

     With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around.      “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).   

Read part eight here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #dean angst #sam angst #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #STSS 1x01 #In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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You are lucky some types of torture are legal, i now will have an anxiety attack looking at the sky

So here we are... The Ultima Weapon will almost certainly be housed in the depths of the complex. This is it, my friend! Gaius! Ah, Cid, my boy... You are late. There is something I always meant to tell you, yet the time never seemed right. It concerns your father. ...What of him? In the winter of his years, Midas came to abhor his part in Meteor. He told me that he wanted nothing more than to wash his hands of the whole sordid business. But he did not wash his hands of it. He helmed the project until the day it killed him! Come now, Cid... you must know that he did not have the luxury of choice. By the time he realized his error, it was too late. Meteor had him completely in its thrall. Shortly before his... transformation, mayhap sensing that something was amiss, your father confided to me all the regrets of his life. Most of them concerned you. Early on in your career, he realized that while you had a talent for devising armaments, it would never fulfil you. Long before you knew your own mind, he saw that you would be far happier using your knowledge for peaceful purposes, and the thought touched him. He was a changed man for it, though he could not let it show. You blew holes in this place just so you could say this to me!? What is it you want, Gaius!? I want you at my side, Cid. Take up your father’s mantle, and become the Empire’s lead engineer. It is your destiny. My father had a change of heart - you said so yourself! Besides, I have long known my destiny, and I assure you, it lies not with the Empire! A pity. And what of you, adventurer? Will you not consider making common cause with me? No? And I can expect no better answer than this? So be it. It was your strength that made me proffer my hand in friendship, and it is your strength that makes me proffer now my blade. Save as an ally, you are too dangerous to be let to remain. Run, Cid. Or stay. It makes no matter. You cannot escape the past. Gaius, wait! ...Damn it! Knowing Gaius, he is headed for the Ultima Weapon. If we find him, so too will we find our quarry. With these instruments, we can monitor every nook and cranny in the castrum. I think it’s time we divided our forces. Pray go on and give chase. I’ll track your movements from here and guide you through the complex. We’ll stay in contact via linkpearl. Be careful, all right? Ah, there she is! I trust you recognize our old friend. “Maggie,” was it? They must have shipped her here from Centri. Considering all she’s been through, it’s a wonder she’s still operational. Tough old girl! Now that you’re suitably armed, you can blast open that bulkhead. The external walkway will take you back there. Follow it till you come upon a way down to the lower level. That bulkhead is composed of a special alloy. Extremely tough. Ordinary fire won’t leave a mark, I’m afraid. You’ll need to divert all power to the magitek cannon, as I did so memorably once before. As you may recall, the armor’s core is like to expire from the strain, but there’s no help for it if we want to press on. Now, listen well. Press...<buzzzzzz>...the control...<fizzzzzz>...engage ancillary...then fire away. Don’t mind the warning lights. You’re a natural at this! All right, the way’s clear, but it’s just you and your own two feet now, so be careful. You have been leaving a fine mess in your wake, adventurer. Is someone there!? Garlond, old friend. How it warms the heart to hear your voice again after all these years. ...Nero? Is that you!? You sound well. It would seem this savage land agrees with you. The highest ranking tribunus of the XIVth... It was you all this time? Tell me, Garlond. How long do you intend to keep all the glory for yourself? Uh...what? You’ve lost me. Don’t play the fool with me. Ever since the Academy, I have been condemned to live in your shadow. By all objective measure, I was the more talented of the two of us, yet that fate counted for naught beside your privileged birth. You were admired as the young prodigy simply because your father was the great Midas nan Garlond! When you defected, I felt sure my star would finally rise... But by disappearing, you acquired the status of a legend - your reputed genius gaining credence merely by dint of your absence! Instead of cursing you for a traitor, the people actually came to think of you more fondly! To this day, you are still the young prodigy of magitek! I, meanwhile, have ever been made to feel second-rate - I who have continued to serve our nation faithfully. Whenever I fail to excel - why, it is only to be expected! Yet when I exceed all reasonable expectations, people proclaim that I walk in the footsteps of the great Cid nan bloody Garlond! Nero, I... I don’t know what to say. It matters not a whit what I achieve. Your existence has rendered mine worthless. Even Lord van Baelsar saw fit to offer you a place at his side - and this in spite of your betrayal! Did he extend any such offer to me - the man who has remained loyal to him for all these years? Why, no. He did not. Long have I endured this injustice...but no more. Lord van Baelsar is in the midst of activating the fully powered Ultima Weapon. It is my magnum opus - the creation that will win me the recognition I am due. I will not let anyone interfere. Nero! What are you-!? Ever since I first set foot in this benighted land, I have watched you - ever move you have made, every step you have taken. You have felled eikons, a feat made possible by the Echo, a peculiar power which shields you from their corrupting influence. It is of little wonder that my lord has taken an interest in you. As have I, if truth be told. It is my desire to harness your power for use in the Ultima Weapon. Should I succeed, Lord van Baelsar will surely take notice! Beside this, Garlond’s achievements will be as child’s play! Come, adventurer, and yield to me the secrets of your power! This changes...nothing... Ahahahaha! The Ultima Weapon is activated, and it brims with the power of eikons! Nothing can withstand its might! Are you all right!? What of Nero!? ...Fled!? Damn it! In the instant prior to the blackout, the instruments detected a massive power surge from the deepest chamber. Gaius is certain to be there! We have no time to waste! Word arrived from the Alliance a short while ago. It seems the Order of the Twin Adder has completed its blockade of Castrum Centri. What hands they can spare are hastening this way even as we speak, and likewise for the Maelstrom. All that’s left is to destroy the Ultima Weapon! ...I should warn you: the chamber which houses the target appears to be saturated with aetheric energies. There’s bound to be heavy interference. But even if we lose contact, you must go on. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, all right? Look for the lift’s control panel - it’ll be somewhere nearby. Take the lift down, and you should find yourself in the chamber of the Ultima Weapon. Keep your eyes peeled - Gaius could be waiting for you down there. Oh, and don’t even think about dying. You’re too bloody useful! The interference is getting worse. I don’t think the connection will last much - Tell me...for whom do you fight? Hmph! How very glib. And do you believe in Eorzea? Eorzea’s unity is forged of falsehoods. Its city-states are built on deceit. And its faith is an instrument of deception. It is naught but a cobweb of lies. To believe in Eorzea is to believe in nothing. In Eorzea, the beast tribes often summon gods to fight in their stead - though your comrades only rarely respond in kind. Which is strange, is it not? Are the “Twelve” otherwise engaged? I was given to understand they were your protectors. If you truly believe them your guardians, why do you not repeat the trick that served you so well at Carteneau, and call them down? They will answer - so long as you lavish them with crystals and gorge them on aether. Your gods are no different from those of the beasts - eikons every one. Accept but this, and you will see how Eorzea’s faith is bleeding the land dry. Nor is this unknown to your masters. Which prompts the question: why do they cling to these false deities? What drives even men of learning - even the great Louisoix - to grovel at their feet? The answer? Your masters lack the strength to do otherwise! For the world of man to mean anything, man must own the world. To this end, he hath fought ever to raise himself through conflict - to grow rich through conquest. And when the dust of battle settles, it is ever the strong who dictate the fate of the weak. Knowing this, but a single path is open to the impotent ruler - that of false worship. A path which leads to enervation and death. Only a man of power can rightly steer the course of civilization. And in this land of creeping mendacity, that one truth will prove its salvation. Come, champion of Eorzea, face me! Your defeat shall serve as proof of my readiness to rule! It is only right that I should take your realm. For none among you has the power to stop me! I had not thought to be so hard-pressed. Your strength is...most impressive. Such power befits a ruler! Yet you lack the resolve to put it to proper use. A waste. Allow me, then, hero, to do that which you will not! Bear witness to the true power of the Ultima Weapon! But the Ultima Weapon is all-powerful! Why does my enemy still stand!? Can her strength truly be so great? It is the blessing of Light that confounds you. Lahabrea. Your foe acts under the protection of the Crystal she bears. So, this is what empowers her. Beyond mortal limits. If you are to prevail, the hammer of Darkness must needs be brought to bear upon the shield of Light. And so it shall, for the Ultima Weapon is host to a power of which you are as yet ignorant. Speak plainly, Ascian. The Heart of Sabik. It is the Weapon’s core - an enigma whose surface even the vaunted scholars of ancient Allag failed to scratch. The magic within has lain dormant for eons. Of what magic do you speak? A spell without parallel. Ultima. I sought the life force of the primals for no other reason but to quicken the core. For the true power of the Ultima Weapon lies within its now-beating Heart! Lahabrea... What have you done? No more than was necessary...for my god to be reborn. Damn you, Ascian! The hour is at hand! Behold but a sliver of my god’s power! And from the deepest pit of the seven hells to the very pinnacle of the heavens, the world shall tremble! Unleash Ultima! Ahahahahahaha! Such devastation... This was not my intention... Oh, Hydaelyn...it seems the task of keeping your champion alive has exhausted what strength you had left. Van Baelsar... Your enemy’s shield is broken. The rest I leave to you. We will speak later, Ascian. But first, I must deal with you. The question of who is mightier remains! Come, adventurer! Let us find the answer together! No... No, no, NO! Uh! Heed me... The subjects of a weak ruler must needs look to a higher power for providence... and their dependence comes at a cost to the realm. The misguided elevate the frail... And the frail lead the people astray. Unless a man of power wrests control...the cycle will never be broken. You... You of all people must see the truth in this. You who have the strength to rule... Pathetic. You boasted of unrivaled power. You were entrusted with the ultimate weapon. The ultimate magic! And still you failed. So much for the glory of man. The growing imbalance afflicting the planet must be redressed. If it is permitted to worsen, the very laws of existence - both aetheric and physical - will be warped beyond all recognition. Know you the root of this corruption? Hydaelyn! Like a parasite, she must be burned out if the planet is to recover. And naught but the return of the one true god will ensure her complete excision. Yet to pave the way for the master’s return, a chaotic confluence of untold proportions must needs be brought about. And that will necessitate the presence of the primals. needless to say, both you and your Scion accomplices can not be suffered to interfere in this endeavor. You will not leave this place alive. It is past time your flame was extinguished...“Bringer of Light.” If thou wouldst pierce the shadows...make thee a blade of Light. What!? The Light...it binds them... They are too many!

Aaaaaaaaarrrgh!!!