#what's eight plus seven?

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.

-

Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.

Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"

"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.

"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.

He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."

"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?

"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."

Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."

Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."

"So, what, you lied? Why?"

"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.

"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."

Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. After."

Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.

Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.

It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.

That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.

He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.

He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.

Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.

He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.

It's the character sheets he'd made.

He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.

Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.

After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.

If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.

That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.

Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.

But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)

In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.

Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.

The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.

He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.

Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.

Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.

They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.

"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.

Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"

"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.

"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."

Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.

Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.

Soon, the house is empty again.

"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."

"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"

Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.

"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."

"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.

"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."

"Well, I didn't help-"

"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."

Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."

Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."

"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."

"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."

First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven? #just one more part #not fully edited because im at work so apologies for that

[new-lorien-artist]

Personally a fan of the idea of Marina and Eight not just being drawn out from their isolated environments and interacting with people who get them and feeling very complete and happy because of it, but also embracing a sense of freedom from their experiences feeling alone and sharing that time with each other to explore new opportunities and experiences that kids their age would do and having a very fun time getting to connect with teenage things that were not accessible to them

And also sharing a single braincell because of it where whenever there's an opportunity to do the most ridiculous and bombastically teenage thing to do ever, they would get super riled up and dive right into it without hesitation because one of them can heal, one of them can teleport out of danger, and they are completely head empty with overwhelming teenage freedom

#lorien legacies #i am number four #number seven #number eight #if marina and eight ever heard the phrase YOLO they would make t-shirts of it and wear them on every outing #i know marina was written to have more shyness and unease about her from her abusive upbringing #and needing to warm up to good people around her before she can readily embrace the antics more willingly #but she's also freeing and impulsive after santa theresa and leans that way sometimes #and i wish that silly side is explored more in her dynamics with eight #plus occasional 'eight i love you but what the fuck is wrong with you' moments like the stonehenge scene

[ljf613]

Alright, Chanukah starts tonight, which means it's time for me to finally make a post about different kinds of menorahs.

This right here? This is the Temple Menorah:

There's some debate over whether the branches were straight or curved, but here's a few things we do know:

It had seven branches of equal length.

It was made of one solid piece of gold

It was at least five feet tall.

It used pure olive oil.

The Temple Menorah is what people mean when they talk about The Menorah. It's what you'll see on historical or commemorative artifacts such as the Arch of Titus in Rome or Israeli currency:

During the time when the Temple stood in Jerusalem, the High Priest lit all seven flames on this Menorah every day (using the aforementioned pure olive oil):

No one lights this on Chanukah.

This is a Chanukah menorah:

There are countless variations, but here are the important things:

It has eight branches of equal length, plus a ninth "helper" branch, known as the shamash, which is set apart from the rest of the branches and used to light the others.

It can be made of any material.

It is usually used with wax candles or oil, but, if necessary, one can use anything that burns.

In Hebrew, this kind of menorah is called a chanukiah.

Some Chanukah menorahs, like the one shown above, have the shamash in the middle. Others have it on the side:

Regardless, this kind of menorah is the one that has been lit by Jews on Chanukah for thousands of years. It's the menorah you'll seen in photographs of Jewish households, including this famous picture taken in Germany in 1931:

(The message written on the back of the photo reads: "Death to Judah"/ So the flag says/ "Judah will live forever"/ So the light answers)

On Chanukah, whoever is lighting the menorah will first light the shamash, then the number of candles corresponding to whichever night of Chanukah it is. The first night, only the rightmost candle is lit, the second night the two rightmost, etc. (The newest candle is always lit first):

Again, a valid Chanukah menorah has eight branches of equal length, along with a shamash. There is no such thing as a Chanukah menorah with six branches of equal length and a longer seventh branch, and no valid Chanukah menorah has eight branches of completely different lengths.

If you see either of the above designs (or anything similar) on Chanukah-themed decor, it tells you the creator has absolutely no idea what they're doing and couldn't be bothered to do more than two seconds of research to make sure their product was accurate. Anyone who knows anything about the holiday will laugh at these. (They may buy them anyway, especially if that's all that's available-- my new Chanukah sweater has an invalid menorah pattern, but it's adorable, so I'm still going to wear it. But I am also laughing about it and invite you all to do the same.)

Anyway, have a happy Chanukah, everyone!

#real life #jumblr #thoughts #menorah #chanukah #hanukkah #arch of titus #history lesson #the more you know #all queued up

[badjokesbyjeff]

Little Johnny was doing his maths homework

He says out loud, "One plus six, that son of a bitch is seven. Four plus four, that son of a bitch is eight."

His mum overhears this and is shocked! she says to him, "What are you doing Johnny?"

Johnny replies, "I am just doing my maths homework."

"And is this is how your teacher taught you to do it?" the mother asks.

"Yes," Johnny replies.

The mother is now angry and immediately phones Johnny's teacher, "What on earth are you teaching my son in class?" she asks.

The teacher replies, "Right now, we are learning mathematical addition."

The mother asks, "And are you teaching them to say one plus six, that son of a bitch is seven?"

After the teacher stopped laughing hysterically, she answers, "What I taught them to say was, one plus six, the sum of which is seven."

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Parties were NOT Simon Riley's cup of tea. Not only did they drain his social battery, but he was the type of man that much preferred the comfort of a good book and his bed over that of social interaction.

But today was New Year’s Eve, and not only had Soap practically threatened him to come, you would be there. Seeing you would make attending the shitty party worth it. Seeing you always made anything worth it.

Simon walked into the mess hall, his heart racing slightly as he realized just how many people were here. All of the soldiers still on duty were gathered, eating, drinking, joking. Just the sheer amount of chaos that was ensuing made Simon want to run back to his room.

Until he saw you.

He found you watching TV, nursing on some concoction of drink, a languid smile on your lips as you saw him approach.

“Sergeant.” Simon nodded in your direction as he came to stand by you, thankful you couldn’t see the crimson forming in his cheeks.

“Lieutenant.” You smiled up at him, before letting your eyes fall back to the TV in front of you. "Surprised to see you here tonight."

Simon grunted in reply, his eyes scanning the crowded mess hall, finding his Scottish friend laughing with a group of recruits. "Johnny forced me. Plus, the company isn't so bad."

You turned your face slightly, a blush reaching your cheeks at his admission. "Glad to know my company is suitable for you."

You both stood watching the party for a while as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. This was one of the things Simon adored about you. You never forced him to talk, which frankly, made him all the more eager to do so with you.

“Y/N-.” He began, but Johnny had cut him off with a tap of his glass.

"Alright everyone, begin the count down! It’s ten seconds to midnight!” Johnny called out, grabbing everyone's attention, prompting nearly everyone in the mess hall began to shout out the countdown.

"Ten!"

You couldn't help but look over at your lieutenant, your breath hitching slightly as you saw he was already looking at you, his soft brown eyes softening as they locked on you.

All of the noise in the background, the cheers, the conversations, the sound of the TV, all vanished in that moment. The only thing mattering to you was the way that Simon Riley was looking at you.

"Nine!"

Your many years alongside him began to swirl in your head, all the long missions, the close calls, all those times he risked his life for you, and you for him. All those times he'd let you in to see the man behind the mask, the man that was Simon Riley.

Your feelings for him had only grown in all the time you'd been alongside him, and you found yourself utterly and completely in love with your superior.

"Eight!"

Simon took a step closer to you, his eyes remaining as stoic as ever as they stayed locked on yours. You always hated how you could never tell what he was thinking, could never read what he was feeling by his looking in his eyes.

God, what you would give to be able to know what was going on in that gorgeous head of his right now.

If only you fucking knew.

"Seven!"

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as his he now stood almost chest to chest with you, his frame towering over yours as he looked down at you. You blinked a few times, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him. "Hi."

"Hi." He replied, his tone quieter than usual. His hands began to shake slightly as he slowly began to move one of them toward the base of his balaclava.

"Six!"

You watched as he pulled his mask up, revealing a handsome jaw, lined with stubble. His lips were littered with scars, and you couldn't help but stare at them. From what little you could see of his face, you realized just how fucking pretty he was. As if there was any doubt.

"S-Simon." You breathed out, the intensity of his gaze sending a heat coursing throughout the entirety of your body. You couldn’t help yourself, you let your hand grip lightly at his arm, prompting him to chuckle softly.

"Five!"

Simon leaned toward you, his finger lightly touching your chin as he tilted your face up towards his. You found yourself leaning up toward him, your heels leaving the ground slightly.

His touch was so gentle against your chin despite the rough texture of his fingers, and it took everything in you not to moan at the tenderness of his touch.

"Four!"

“You want this?” He asked, his voice holding a nervousness you’d never been on the receiving end of before. “With me?”

All you could do was nod up at him, not trusting yourself to speak. You don't think you'd ever been this nervous in your life, your mouth running dry in anticipation.

"Three!"

This was it, wasn’t it? After all these years, after all those long nights, those deep talks, those longing glances… was this really about to happen?

"Two!"

Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you felt his breath on your mouth, his lips being just a hair away from your own. You could hear him inhale sharply, and watched as his eyes darted toward your mouth.

"One!"

It was as if time stopped when his lips finally met yours. They slotted against yours so effortlessly, almost as if they were made to be kissed by you.

After years of loving Simon Riley, he was finally, finally kissing you. And it was everything you could ever have hoped it would be.

He pulled away a moment later, the smile on his lips now reaching his beautiful brown eyes. “Happy New Year, sergeant.”

A Happy New Year indeed.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

The funny thing about the PJO cabin system is that everyone's always all 'oh the twelve' this and 'the twelve' that but that's absolutely not even remotely accurate. To start, right off the bat it's thirteen, not twelve, because they don't count Hades. But not really because before Percy, there were no big three kids, so we're down to ten active cabins already but it's actually eight because Artemis and Hera don't make demigods.

And of those eight, Mr. D is stuck at camp (thus not really making new demigods all that often) and his only two kids don't even sleep in a cabin, they sleep in the Big House with him.

So, pre-Percy, there are seven active cabins at Camp Half-Blood:

Glee club, the Jocks, the Nerds, the Geeks, the Farmers, the 'Sketchy Kids' and the Popular Kids.

Or, in other words, the Apollo, Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, Demeter, Hermes (and the unclaimed kids) and Aphrodite cabins.

What's cool is that you can already see the cabin dynamics in the show. For example, the Athena cabin allies with the Hermes cabin for the numbers. The Hermes kids plus all the unclaimed kids? It's the biggest cabin in the camp by far. It's a battle strategy. Luke and Annabeth's close relationship is just the cherry on top for Annabeth. It'll be really cool to see how the show develops the differences in the cabins during the series.

#pjo tv show #pjo series #if i remember correctly it's the Hermes cabin then Ares and Apollo in terms of numbers. Aphrodite would probably be next. #but the Athena Hephaestus and Demeter cabins were always under twelve kids. #they state exact numbers in one book... and if you don't want spoilers turn back now #but after the war theres only three Hephaestus kids left so like.... the numbers go real fucking low #the entire camp population plummeta #iactually really fucking depressing watching this camp filled with small tiny children knowing that only a very small fraction of themlive

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Danny and Damien are twins au, but a slightly redeemed vlad makes Danny the CEO of Vlad Co and DALV and all his other shell companies. Danny is danny, he got pushed into this against his will and is very overwhelmed by CEO duties, so he reaches out to one of his father's sons, Timothy Drake-Wayne, for advice

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

So, danny definitely knows his heritage in this au. He was the spare to Damien's heir, and while their relationship was strained by the constant competition, they still love each other, even when Danny started to show more proficiency in infiltration and subterfuge than assassination. Damien and Danny have a huge fight before Danny leaves, with Damien swearing to never forgive Danny for his betrayal, while Danny is like "what betrayal??? I just cant bring myself to kill someone outside of self-defense??"

(One of the things I hate about Danny and Damien Twin AUs is this depiction that, just because (usually) Danny is unwilling to kill, that makes him weak and a traitor. You think the medical staff in the LoA are assassinating people? Or the lawyers? He's not useless, he's just not good as an assassin)

He was sent to the Fentons at like... seven? eight? to study how the Fentons are purifying lazurus waters from Jack and Maddie, both of whom are partly sponsored by the League of Assassins. He's also learning more about spying from Jack, surprisingly, because no one would expect him of being a top tier spy. He has the occasional mission as a child, but it's mostly shadowing Jack to learn how to spy.

Danny sends letters to both Talia and Damien regarding updates on his training and the Fenton's research, but after a year of no reply from Damien, it's only to Talia. He's feels super hurt by this, and abandoned by the LoA, but the Fentons are kind and familial, and Talia visits once a year. She's unwilling to risk visiting more often, lest she risk getting the JL or the Spiders attention, but sometimes she even manages to visit on his birthday!

(Meanwhile, Talia starts sending birthday assassins to kill Damien so she can spend their birthday with Danyal. She's a really hot and cold mom.

Talia: You can choose me, and have a birthday dinner. Or you can choose your father and have a birthday assassin. You're choice. )

When Slade blows up the LoA, Danyal is given permanent orders to remain as Daniel Fenton until Talia, and only Talia, brings him back to the League. No missions and only one letter every six months. But when Ra's comes back to life and the League is back in power, Talia... never tells Danyal. Because she's seen how happy Damien is being a normal child with their father and wants that for Danyal too. Plus, she wants to continue to have a good relationship one of her children, sue her bruce.

So Danny is completely convinced that the League is mostly gone other than his mother, her zealots, and knows that his brother is living with their father. and he's... relieved. His brother is safe, and his mom told him their grandfather was avenged, so Danny can just enjoy his life. Which he does.

He sends out his six month report days before the portal accident.

Canon stuff happens until Danny is sixteen and Vlad, the fruitloop, steps down as CEO and strong-arms Danny into becoming CEO in his place. Jack and Maddie (who at this point know [or have always known in Jack's case, adn Danny didn't appreciate his dad using his his poker face against him like that] about Phantom) are thrilled.

Vlad is using his "foster son" (Dark Danny, but in this idea, he's Dante Masters) as an excuse as to why he's stepping down, since Dante needs all the attention he can give as a "troubled youth". Danny secretly hopes Dante kills Vlad in his sleep, but signs the papers away.

And there's so much work.

Danny has some idea of what he's doing (Vlad co is a tech company and DALV is weapons manufacturing, plus vlad gave him a crash course on CEOing). Sam and Tuck even help! But he wishes there was someone who could understand the pain of being a CEO while still a teen. But... his father's son, his brother, is one such person. And even though the other would never know, he really wanted to get to know his other siblings. So Danny reaches out for advice to Timothy Drake-Wayne.

Tim is immediately on guard when this Damien clone walks into his office claiming to be the new Vlad Co CEO. The clone acts nothing like Damien, but he still thinks this Danny Fenton is a league plant.

His paranoia doubles when Damien freaks out and confesses that A) Danny is apparently his twin brother and B) that he's been with the League of Assassins this whole time. Damien, who really doesn't want to admit that the reason he forced himself to forget his brother was because said brother didn't want to kill people, says "Tch. I didn't want to associate with the likes of him, so I put him out of my mind." Tim now believes that he's dealing with a master assassin with a huge grudge against Damien and Danyal showing no signs of malicious or aggression in their meetings only convinces him that Danyal is a master actor too.

Which, Danyal is a master actor. But all that other stuff is just Tim reaching.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp crossover #dc crossover #danny and damian are twins #for some reason explain danyal's backstory was really important to me #c: danny fenton #c: damien wayne #c: talia al ghul #c: tim drake #talia can be a brainwashed mom trying to do the best for her kids and be cold and calculating #she has the range #this au is all about the batfam freaking out about the LoA having control over these massive companies #and meanwhile Danny is having the time of his life getting to know his adoptive brother #and saving the environment with Vlad's companies #tim constantly takes the most innocent comments from danny as evil threats #danny compliments tim's family and tim nearly lunges across the desk to strangle him

[nasa]

Roman's primary structure hangs from cables as it moves into the big clean room at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center.

What Makes the Clean Room So Clean?

When you picture NASA’s most important creations, you probably think of a satellite, telescope, or maybe a rover. But what about the room they’re made in? Believe it or not, the room itself where these instruments are put together—a clean room—is pretty special. 

A clean room is a space that protects technology from contamination. This is especially important when sending very sensitive items into space that even small particles could interfere with.

There are two main categories of contamination that we have to keep away from our instruments. The first is particulate contamination, like dust. The second is molecular contamination, which is more like oil or grease. Both types affect a telescope’s image quality, as well as the time it takes to capture imagery. Having too many particles on our instruments is like looking through a dirty window. A clean room makes for clean science!

Two technicians clean the floor of Goddard’s big clean room.

Our Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland has the largest clean room of its kind in the world. It’s as tall as an eight-story building and as wide as two basketball courts.

Goddard’s clean room has fewer than 3,000 micron-size particles per cubic meter of air. If you lined up all those tiny particles, they’d be no longer than a sesame seed. If those particles were the size of 16-inch (0.4-meter) inflatable beach balls, we’d find only 3,000 spread throughout the whole body of Mount Everest!

A clean room technician observes a sample under a microscope.

The clean room keeps out particles larger than five microns across, just seven percent of the width of an average human hair. It does this via special filters that remove around 99.97% of particles 0.3 microns and larger from incoming air. Six fans the size of school buses spin to keep air flowing and pressurize the room. Since the pressure inside is higher, the clean air keeps unclean air out when doors open.

A technician analyzes a sample under ultraviolet light.

In addition, anyone who enters must wear a “bunny suit” to keep their body particles away from the machinery. A bunny suit covers most of the person inside. Sometimes scientists have trouble recognizing each other while in the suits, but they do get to know each other’s mannerisms very well.

This illustration depicts the anatomy of a bunny suit, which covers clean room technicians from head to toe to protect sensitive technology.

The bunny suit is only the beginning: before putting it on, team members undergo a preparation routine involving a hairnet and an air shower. Fun fact – you’re not allowed to wear products like perfume, lotion, or deodorant. Even odors can transfer easily!

Six of Goddard’s clean room technicians (left to right: Daniel DaCosta, Jill Bender, Anne Martino, Leon Bailey, Frank D’Annunzio, and Josh Thomas).

It takes a lot of specialists to run Goddard’s clean room. There are 10 people on the Contamination Control Technician Team, 30 people on the Clean Room Engineering Team to cover all Goddard missions, and another 10 people on the Facilities Team to monitor the clean room itself. They check on its temperature, humidity, and particle counts.

A technician rinses critical hardware with isopropyl alcohol and separates the particulate and isopropyl alcohol to leave the particles on a membrane for microscopic analysis.

Besides the standard mopping and vacuuming, the team uses tools such as isopropyl alcohol, acetone, wipes, swabs, white light, and ultraviolet light. Plus, they have a particle monitor that uses a laser to measure air particle count and size.

The team keeping the clean room spotless plays an integral role in the success of NASA’s missions. So, the next time you have to clean your bedroom, consider yourself lucky that the stakes aren’t so high!

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#cleaning #cleancore #science #NASA #tech #technology

[duawheat]

today i lived one thousand lives

#yk those days where nothing actually happens but you still feel like it was the most eventful day of ever #like today was eight years long #woke up at my friends house so dry so incredibly dry #sister picks me up from friends house #i get home i say hm gonna run and work out and such #i do that #i shower #i don’t know what happened between then and the next event but hours passed i took a nap #hours passed i woke up #i tried to order food but i have terrible luck and it simply didn’t arrive so i reported it to doordash and said pls dear god #so they sent it again #got my food #after two hours of terror #then watched like seven episodes of spy family going bed now #the nap plus waking up at a different location from home i think made today so long

[nerdyjournals]

Thank you for your request! Other than the little mishap, this was a fun one to do! You really had me thinking over what each one would get upset over, so hopefully they all fit!

Bang Chan

You could feel his eyes bore through you as Chan stared at you through the glass in the hospital door. He looked frazzled. Hair a mess, the bags under his eyes even worse than before.

He stepped in and you watched all the air escape him as he took in your bandaged wrist.

"And what have we learned?" He said, voice soft but stern.

"To wait until help arrives and to not be a stubborn and impatient baby," you whined as he lifted up your hand. "They said it'll be a week or so before I can lift anything."

"Do you see why I was so insistent that you wait?" You nodded. "Plus I have seven able body movers who were ready to help us later tonight after rehearsals."

You whispered another apology as he took you into his arms and held you tight.

"I'm just glad you're okay and it was nothing major."

Lee Know

You felt yourself wince as you stepped over the threshold of your apartment. You had been hoping to do some spring cleaning before Minho got home so he could just rest.

He had told you to do it in stages so you wouldn't overwork and hurt yourself, but what do you do? You overwork and hurt yourself.

Now you softly flinch as you spot him sitting in an armchair that you swear was never positioned in the middle of the hallway.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" You scratched the back of your head nervously.

"Big time." Minho stood from the chair and walked over. "You know I tell you not to do things because I care about you, right?" You nod. "So why go against me?"

"I wanted you to have a nice place to rest since you've been working so hard, but I just screwed up again." He pulled you into a soft hug, silently trying to find where you were hurt. "You're not even supposed to be home early. Why are you here?"

"You always send me a photo of your food before my lunch break if you're home, and I know for a fact that you have today off."

"You were worried?"

"Don't tell the media. I do have a reputation to uphold, you know."

Okay, the laugh hurt a little bit.

Changbin

The front door opened and closed without Changbin's usual fanfare. Yup, you were in trouble.

His figure came around the corner with a small pharmacy bag and two cups of boba. Okay, so he wasn't that mad....yet.

"Are you okay?" Those words shocked you, having been ready for his beratement or something along those lines.

"I'm okay. A little sore, but okay." He walked over and handed you the drink and bag. "I thought you said you'll be late tonight."

"And I knew that if I didn't come home at my earliest convenience, you'd try something stupid again." You pouted as both of you knew he was right. "I know you want our first place to be perfect, but we have all the time in the world to decorate."

"I work from home, Bin. I need something to do other than watching a computer screen for eight hours."

"Then bring your laptop with you and visit the studio. The guys won't mind. They love you."

"Are you sure I won't be distracting?"

"Never. If anything, you might get annoyed with Jisung's antics."

"I'll take that risk."

Hyunjin

The sound of feet rushing against the tile of your apartment floor brought you back to reality. Your little perch on the balcony slightly helped alleviate your headache.

Hyunjin stood there with a small pharmacy bag and a hand fan.

"Are you okay? Any breakouts or irritation?" He asked, worry filling his voice with each word.

"No. I got out quickly enough." You said, obviously tired. He switched on the hand fan and placed it yours as he set the bag aside. "I'm sorry."

"What were you doing in there anyway?"

"I wanted to clean up a bit. You were really stressed about it."

"I'd rather have a messy studio than have you in the hospital." His gaze drifted from you to the view. "Fresh air help?"

"Not as much as you."

Han

Hearing footsteps approach, you quickly tried to get off the floor but to no avail.

"Aish..." Han's soft curse came from the doorway. "Didn't I tell you to wait for me before trying to unpack?"

The two of you had moved in together recently and your stuff was the last to unpack and also the heaviest.

"Did you finish your book already?" He asked as the two of you began to pick up the fallen novels. He could see your face scrunch at all the bent pages and covers.

"I thought the next one was in the stack of opened boxes. I just wanted to start and not have to bug you for something so small."

"You enjoy reading, yeah?" You slowly nodded. "Then it's not so small. I think it's small when I interrupt your reading for a thirty second clip opinion."

You nodded and placed another book back in the box as he tilted your chin over to look him in the eyes.

"If any of your books got ruined, they're replaceable. You know what's not? You. So ask me next time, okay?"

Felix

It was a little embarrassing to have Felix walk in and see you with your hand submerged in a bowl of water.

"I thought I told you to do an ice shower," he sighed as he placed the bag in the table.

"Why would I need to shower for just my hand?" You slowly lifted out of the water and showed off the damage. "How bad?"

"Well, it's not blistering so that's good." Felix grabbed the kitchen towel to dry pat your hand. "What were you doing anyway?"

"Taking cookies out of the oven." You pointed over to where a batch of cookies still sat on the baking sheet. "I couldn't find the mitts so i used the rubber ones, but the back of my hand touched the metal."

"You're very brave to even keep them on the tray while in pain." He put the cream on and began to wrap it. "You're not allowed to bake without me here anymore, okay? At least, not until this heals."

"Oh no. I have to spend more quality time with my boyfriend. Whatever shall I do?" The sarcasm dripped from your words, making him smile and press against the injury.

"Don't make me regret it."

Seungmin

His steps were frantic as he unlocked the apartment door. Part of him was thankful they had chosen to put security cameras in the house, but the other part cursed him cause it forced him to watch his partner take a nasty fall.

"Y/N?" He didn't raise his voice, knowing that you might have a bad headache.

Your hand peeked out from behind the kitchen island and he rushed over. He found you leaned against the cabinet with an ice pack against the back of your head.

"Hey," he whispered, "1 to 10?" You held up four fingers then four more. "Can you stand?" You signed out the sign for 'no.' "Can I carry you? I got the car running outside." You signed 'yes.' "Talking hurts?" You signed 'yes' again as he carefully lifted you into his arms.

You signed 'sorry' as you made it to the car.

"Why are you apologizing? It was an accident and the guys understand that." He gently placed you in the passenger seat. "They will want an update once you're all clear, okay?"

You signed 'okay.'

I.N

Something was off. You had been avoiding his hand ever since he got home. Normally Jeongin won't mind, but you won't even hold it in front of you.

"You tried to hook up the gundam already, didn't you?" He said as he watched you freeze. "Show me the damage."

You slowly held your hand out, placing it softly in his. Small bandages say on a few knuckles while little red dots covered your palm.

"You tried to solder the wires without knowing how to use the tool, didn't you?" You tried to take your hand back but failed. "I told you to wait for me."

"But I wanted it done so that I could show it to you when you got home. Now it's just sitting there, taunting me."

"What's more fun? Building together or building alone?"

"Together." You sounded so shy.

"Then let's have dinner and we'll finish your project together." You nodded. "And then I yell at my brother to never give you a complicated set again."

"JEONGIN."

#kpop fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz fic #skz imagines #skz au #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids texts #stray kids text imagines #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #changbin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagines #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin imagines #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin imagines

[sttoru]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER I: you finish your last lecture of the day and head to get dinner before returning to your dormitories. you stumble upon an injured figure on your way home, laying in a dimly lit alley. despite the fear in your heart, you decide to reach out towards the unknown man in need of help.

wc. 3.7k

tags. assassin!toji x female reader. sfw; fluff-ish, angst. reader's best friend oc appearance (yona). mentions of murder, blood, knives, anxiety. general warnings for all parts of the series: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's).

ten seconds. you shut down your laptop and close it. nine seconds. you put your laptop in your tote bag. eight seconds. you close your books and do the same. seven seconds. you put your coat on. six seconds. you check your phone for any messages.

five seconds. you’re thinking about what to eat once you arrive home. four seconds. you decide on a pack of noodles. three seconds. you realise that you’ve ran out of them. two seconds. you make up your mind to go to your local supermarket. one second. you stand up from your seat.

“..that’s all, students. have a nice day and i’ll see you at our next lecture.”

a sigh of relief escapes your lips. you’re finally freed from the shackles of your statistics class. not like you’ve paid much attention to what your professor had been yapping about anyway. it was too boring. the daydreaming you did about your potential future boyfriend and all the cheesy romantic stuff you’d do together was all the more important.

“earth to my best friend,” your friend’s voice snaps you back into reality. you look to your side and find yourself apologising for not hearing her the first time. yona chuckles and waves her hand dismissively.

“i asked if you had any plans after the lecture,” she continues whilst scrolling through her phone. you take a peek at her screen and notice that she’s already looking up available restaurants in the area.

you’re grateful that she’s looking out for you in her own way, but you’ve already made up your mind. a pack of your favorite ramen noodles will fill you for tonight. you’re low on cash this month anyway. a fancy restaurant would have you surviving on water for the rest of the week.

“ah, i actually do. gotta go grocery shopping ‘n stuff,” you pout apologetically before buttoning up your coat. yona nods in understanding, knowing the struggles of being a college student.

“aww, all right. we’ll go next time then,” she replies with a smile.

you walk out of the building with your friend by your side, chatting about how boring the lecture was. of course, you also learn all about the recent gossip around campus. yona is practically your plug for that.

“did you hear about that one girl that allowed her boyfriend to stay with her in her dorm room for a whole month and then got snitched on by her roommate?” yona snickers, not caring if anyone around you could hear the gossip.

you raise an eyebrow in surprise. your university has strict rules about guests staying over in the dormitories. they can spend a day or two, but you’d have to sign them in. plus the resident assistants usually check the rooms for any unusual activity every other week.

to hear someone had gotten away for a whole month is quite a surprise.

“he could’ve stayed for longer if it wasn’t for the roommate snitching,” yona continues and rolls her eyes. she takes a quick snack from her bag and bites into it.

you shake your head and shrug, making sure you don’t trip and fall down the stairs whilst you’re talking, “guess the roommate got enough of the random man in their room. i mean—they pay for that room as well. not like the girl is the only one living there.”

yona nods and turns a right. you follow, your eyes scanning the busy hallways. some students are rushing between the crowd to catch their train and others are making their way to their next two hour lecture. those poor souls.

“mhm. i wouldn’t wanna live with a man i don’t know either,” yona eventually adds after swallowing the last bite of her snack, “let alone for a whole month.”

she throws the wrapper in a nearby garbage can—which is overly full already. talk about a ‘hygienic’ school.

“right,” you shiver as the thought gets put into your head. a random man living with you. . . sounds like a nightmare. you’ve heard enough stories about how dirty they can be. in both the physical and mental aspects.

after some walking - and getting annoyed by random people who block your way due to how slow they’re moving - you reach the exit of the building. yona stretches her arms and grabs her phone before turning to you.

“anyway, see you later, hun!” she enthusiastically gives you a hug. you return the affectionate gesture with a gentle smile, rubbing her back. you exchange your last words before both going your own ways.

music plays in your ears as you walk down the street. the wind blows against your face. it’s a cold day. you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to rain in a bit.

‘gotta be fast’, you think. you are not carrying an umbrella with you, so you’d have to hurry back with your groceries. your legs pick up their pace and pass all traffic as fast as they can.

it takes you quite a while to get to your destination. that’s the drawback of living in such a packed city like tokyo. there is no way to move, especially in the evening, when everyone is returning home.

you reach a crosswalk and wait for the light to turn blue. whilst you’re waiting next to a bunch of people, your eyes wander across the scenery. from the huge billboards to your right to the multiple cars to your left.

your gaze stops at one specific billboard. it’s playing some of the latest news. a recent incident had taken place just a few kilometres north from your university. three people had been found cruelly murdered in their apartments.

the definite cause of their deaths is still unknown. there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry, even when reports say that all three victims had been killed in the same way.

they speculate that the person involved must have been quite skilled—someone who’s done this multiple times before. there are absolutely zero traces of them left neither. the only reason they’re able to conclude that it is indeed a homicide, are the similar wounds left on the victims’ bodies.

another comment from the investigation team shows that there might be a survivor who’s escaped the cold blooded killer. that person is now considered missing.

the police are still thoroughly investigating the matter; that’s all you get to know before the news reporter moves on to the next subject.

you look down at your shoes. such scary stuff does make you afraid. you’re living on your own after all. you’d be less scared if you had a roommate, but you currently don’t.

some call you lucky for that since it’s a rare occurrence, yet you still wish you had someone living with you. that would make walking back home at night less stressful.

the increase of footsteps around you makes you realise that the light turned blue—a sign for you to cross the street. you eventually reach the other side. you tilt your head back, anxiously staring at the sky.

‘please don’t, please don’t, please don’t,’ you chant in your head. like the weather is going to listen to your desperate pleas. you rush inside of the supermarket.

you’ve been here often enough to know which products are in what aisle. you scurry over to the ramen, grabbing two packs. you get a few snacks along the way. unhealthy crap, that’s what you’re surviving on.

you stand in line at the cashier. you tap your shoe and bite your lip, your gaze fixated on the sky outside. you beg god to give you just a few more minutes. a few more minutes of drought.

you check your phone and go through your recent notifications to kill time. you swipe left on almost all of them—none being time sensitive or urgent anyway.

you greet the cashier politely once it’s your turn and allow him to scan your products for you. you await for him to announce your total before handing him your debit card. your eyes flicker over to the television hanging right behind the cashier’s head.

that gruesome news again. twice in a row. you shiver and try not to think about it. your mind is already overthinking the entire thing; what if you’re next?

well, that should be the least of your worries. you grab the plastic bag and walk to the exit of the supermarket, taking a deep breath. what you actually should be worried about is getting home dry.

“just my luck,” you mutter under your breath. your prayers are left unanswered as the first few drops of rain fall on your head. you kiss your teeth in annoyance.

you can’t help but silently agree as a couple walks past you, complaining about the sudden change of weather. you watch as a few more people rush past you with their bags above their head.

looking at the bright side of things, you won’t be the only one who’s running home with a bag as a shield against the rain and wind.

you take a deep breath again and mentally prepare yourself for the quick journey you’re going to make. you look to the left and then the right. when the coast is clear, you dash into the direction of your dormitory.

the rain is not letting up. you rush past a few people, those carrying umbrellas walking the slowest of them all. ‘damn them’, you think, ‘they have it the easiest right now.’

you turn a corner and nearly bump into a woman. you politely apologise before continuing your little run home. damp droplets run down your forehead. the rain is already starting to block your vision.

you tightly hug your tote bag to your chest with one arm. the last thing you want is for your laptop to get water damage. you’ve wasted tons of money on that thing to help you get through college.

you look down at the plastic bag with your food. that’ll survive. at least you think it will.

you squint. the rain is only getting worse and thus your blurry vision will as well. you try blinking the water away, but end up making it worse for yourself.

great.

your shoes are going through it. the deep puddles you’ve run through leave the material moist and you can already feel the droplets seep into your socks.

greaaat.

you turn a left. this narrow street is one you hate to be near when it’s dark. it’s a fast shortcut, but also a scary one since it’s isolated from the bustling main streets.

you think back to the cruel news you’ve heard earlier. scary images flash through your mind. your heart races a thousand miles per hour. you once again make up a doom scenario that could possibly happen.

what if the killer on the run is going after you next?

it doesn’t make sense, logically, but everything is possible now that your anxiety has overtaken your rational thoughts. you have no connections to those victims and yet you think you’re next.

you are next.

you whimper out of fear. it feels like the walls of this narrow street are closing up on you the faster you run. you look over your shoulder, excepting someone to be there—following you.

no one is there. you turn your head again and run as fast as you can. if only you had someone with you. someone who’d console you and tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

that’s the worst thing about the entire situation: nobody seems to pass by this backstreet. the only things that could possibly give you any sense of comfort are the random boxes and trash laying around.

time seems to slow down once you see the end of the backstreet. there’d actually be people once you make it through. you gulp and give yourself the motivation to get over there without scaring yourself any further.

the shadows looming over you due to the lack of lightning in this alleyway creep you out. the entire atmosphere is eerie—like something or someone can jump out of those shadows and grab you by the ankles. drag you into the darkness and finish you off there.

you want to return to those vibrant lights you know so bad. you do.

your eyes are so intensely focused on the end of the streets to the point that you forget your surroundings. it’s already too late to realise that you’re tripping over something. you process that you’ve lost your balance when you’re already mid-fall.

your body lands on the wet ground with a loud thud. luckily enough, your hands touched the concrete first, softening the fall for your head. you grunt and groan; it still hurt.

your ears pick up on the sound of running water. your head lays right next to a broken pipe that’s leaking water onto the pavement. cold droplets fall in a rushed rhythm.

“ah, fuck.”

your eyes widen. the sound of a man behind you sends a shiver down your spine. is that why you tripped? did he make you trip?

‘i’m so done,’ you conclude quietly. it’s probably the killer you’ve heard about—the one who’s coming for you next. just like you had thought.

you shut your eyes tightly, awaiting the strike that would finish you. like the wounds that had finished the other victims. though, it never comes. the stabbing doesn’t happen.

the only thing you can pick up on is heavy breathing. low grunts, barely audible. the sound of cloth ripping. a man mumbling under his breath.

you sit up on your knees and look over your shoulder. slowly, little by little.

the revealed sight is like a dream. or a nightmare. you don’t know which it is. perhaps a mixture of both.

all you know is that this is the last thing you expected to see. the last thing you expected to experience today. you feel your heart drop and you freeze in place.

you’ve seen your own fair share of blood, but this is simply too much. it’s like time has stopped for you. like time has stopped inside of this backstreet.

the world outside of this alleyway continues moving. the people keep walking, chatting and living their lives. the rain keeps falling. as if nothing is occurring at the moment.

as if there is no bloodied man on the dirty ground, leaning against the wall, with crimson stained hands clutching his abdomen. his wet bangs cover his eyes which makes his identity even more mysterious.

you probably tripped over his leg that’s stretched out in front of him; also bloody. you feel bad for not noticing him earlier. your own selfish desires to get out of this alley caused you to overlook a person in need of urgent aid.

you don’t think twice before reaching out towards him. it’s like your body moves on its own command—not waiting for your brain to figure out what to do.

“oh my god,” you’re shaking badly, but your body crawls closer to the injured figure. you don’t think twice. something you have always taught yourself to do before diving into unfamiliar situations.

not right now, however. you don’t hesitate to check up on the stranger. if you didn’t see his chest moving with each shaky breath, you’d have concluded that he’s dead.

“s-sir?” you panic. what do you do? you’ve never landed in such a predicament before. you look to your left and then to your right. no one to help you nor the bloodied man.

he doesn’t reply to your voice. that further worsens your anxiety. your eyes wander down towards the man’s abdomen. the wound was deep and painful, that much you can tell from the way he’s holding tightly onto it.

a bullet wound? you’re not sure.

right—the piece of cloth he’s keeping against the wound. that’s what you do to try and stop the bleeding. the warm red liquid stains the man’s baggy pants. his black shirt is nearly ripped to shreds, the material hanging on by a thread. literally.

“uhm, uh,” you look around and spot your bag on the floor. in a puddle. you pray that your laptop has made it. you don’t recall having anything with you that could help treat wounds.

you gulp and hastily take off your scarf. you carefully kneel in front of the half-conscious man. his head is held low. you don’t know if he can even hear you.

you reach your hand out towards him, aiming for his own bloody hands that hold onto his abdomen. you cringe due to the sight, but try your best to be of assistance.

the man hisses the moment you touch the his hand. your fingers stop mid-air, not wanting to touch him if he didn’t want to.

what am i thinking?

now is not the time for that. he’s bleeding out and you have this urge to get him to safety as soon as possible. even if you’re internally panicking because of the huge responsibility that fate has suddenly assigned you.

“i’ll call an ambulance. please hold on,” you try to be reassuring, however your choked up voice betrays your true feelings. you change the old cloth with your scarf, pressing it tightly against his injury.

you fish out your phone from your pocket using your other hand. the rain makes it hard to do anything. your screen is wet, your vision blurry. you type in the first number of the emergency services.

suddenly, a bigger hand swats yours, causing your phone to go flying to the other side of the street. you watch with wide eyes as your cellphone comes to a stop right next to a big puddle of rain.

you whip your head to the direction of the injured figure in front of you. the man tries to lifts his head, slowly, so he could look you in the eye. your heart stammers in your chest.

“sir, you’re bleeding out, you need to—“

“i don’t need anythin’.”

you don’t dare to move nor let out a single breath. you can feel the tip of a sharp blade rest under your chin—nearly penetrating the flesh. one wrong move and you will lose your life.

the man had moved too fast for you to even process. you don’t know how you even ended like this. with a bloody knife to your throat and an unknown man’s face right up against yours.

“leave,” the stranger demands. you know he’s not to be messed with, even in his weakened state, “i don’t need y’r help.”

his voice sounds rough. deep and raspy. it shakes you to your core—makes you listen to what he has to say. it’s hypnotising. a gust of wind blows over the both of you.

his bangs move and your gaze finally meets his. the background noises fade for a split second. your entire focus is on those beautiful emerald orbs staring into your own eyes. they’re gorgeous.

they're gorgeous; even if they lack that sparkle of life. his eyes tell stories—the rough journeys this man probably had to endure throughout the years. you’ve never seen such a sight. it tugs at your heartstring and urges you to help him.

you don’t know where these feelings came from, but amidst your anxiety, there’s an underlying desire to take care of him.

you shake your head, showing your unexpected defiance. you’re playing with fire. you know that all too well and yet you don’t care.

“no. i won’t leave,” your breath hitches. you notice the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes. he looks like he’s going to lose consciousness any second now. though his grip on the knife tells another story, “i won’t leave you alone. not like this.”

the injured stranger grunts in annoyance, but also in pain. your persistence makes him want to shove you to the side. to leave this place already and find a way out on his own. he doesn’t want your help.

he may actually need it, but he does not want to accept it.

despite those thoughts, he’s too weak. way too weak. he doesn’t like being weak. feeling weak is not his thing. vulnerability doesn’t suit him.

“you have a fuckin’ death wish,” the man scoffs. he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto consciousness, but that is the last thing he cares about. he wants you gone. out of sight.

you stay in place. even through his chilling death threats. you can feel the blade start to invade the first layer of your skin. it hurts already. normally, you would’ve run. you want to. your mind tells you to get the hell out, but your heart and body yells at you to stay.

“i’ll give ya three seconds,” the stranger continues. he’s close. so close that you can feel his hot breath against your freezing cheeks. it’s intimidating, however not enough to scare you away.

the tighter your grip on the scarf against his abdomen, the tighter his grip on the handle of the knife. time will tell who’ll win this battle.

“three.”

the countdown starts. you swallow your own spit. the rain has you completely drenched. you catch a glimpse of the puddle underneath you both. the colour of it a light red as the man’s blood flows and mixes with the clear water.

“two.”

his voice is quieter than before. he’s losing his strength, but is stubborn enough to firmly keep the knife below your chin. you’re sure that your own blood is already trickling down the shiny metal.

the man’s lips part to announce the last number. your last chance. your final opportunity to escape and act like you have never seen him. you can go back to your normal life—continue living in your own world. the one you are familiar with.

one without this unknown man. this man with an aura of a cold hearted killer.

you fingers curl tightly against the scarf pressed against his wound. you refuse to let up. even if it means your own death. your eyes close—cold damp droplets roll down your cheeks. you don’t know if they’re your tears or if it’s just the pouring rain.

you hear a low, frustrated groan. he sounds so close yet so far from you. you can feel the man’s arm move to adjust his grip. probably to try and flawlessly puncture your jaw.

if only you accepted to eat out with your friend. if only you turned around and went back to your dorm the moment you knew it was going to rain. if only you didn’t take this shortcut today.

if only your fates hadn’t clashed.

“one.”

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #toji x you #please give it lots of love 🙇🏽‍♀️

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Pizza order successfully placed, Steve dials Robin's number next. He doesn't need to talk long, just... hear her voice. Maybe get some verbal support.

"Buckley residence."

"Thank God it's you," Steve sighs in relief to hear Robin's voice on the other end. There was a little bit of dread that her mom might have answered and then he'd be stuck on the phone while she tried to chat with him.

"Whoa. Was hosting the nerdfest that bad?" Robin asks, laughter in her voice.

"Uhh," Steve starts, because he's eloquent like that.

"Oh no. Was is that bad? What happened?"

He feels a flood of warmth for Robin's immediate concern. "No, no, nerdfest was fine. I, uhh, mostly I'm calling because Eddie and I are gonna, like, hang out and talk and I just- I dunno. Wanted to hear your voice, first."

"Oh. Really? Well. Here's my voice. This is you hearing it."

He laughs at that. "Thanks. It's just, I think it's gonna be, like, a bathroom floor kind of conversation, except in my living room on a couch."

"Oh! I can be there in ten if you need me."

"Nah. This is just- me needing to hear your voice, and also a warning that I might have to crawl through your window and fall apart on your bed later. Just don't know how this is going to go."

"I'm here if you need me. Are you going to talk about Freshman First Day?"

"We, uhh, already did. Mostly. There's been apologies and now we're gonna talk. Get to know each other. Play 20 questions, I guess."

Robin laughs at that. "Alright. Ask him if he's ever going to get me the sandwich he owes me from back in November."

"What?"

"You know, his whole cafeteria speech thing? Stepped right on my ham and cheese. It did make him slip and almost brain himself, and he did apologize. Told me he owed me a new sandwich. I never got it. Ask for me."

"We'll see. Okay, I'm going to go but, thank you. Love you."

"Love you, too. Window will be ajar."

Steve hangs up, then opens the fridge. He debates grabbing them beers but opts for soda. Back in the living room Steve finds Eddie sitting like a normal person on the couch, one leg bouncing relentlessly. Even with his superficial knowledge of Eddie, he can tell he's nervous. Not nervous Eddie would be perched on the back of his couch, ruining the cushions with whatever junk is on the bottom of his shoes. Probably.

"Soda?" Steve offers, plopping himself on the other end of the couch, hand outstretched for Eddie to take the beverage.

"Thanks." The bouncing of Eddie's leg pauses for a moment while he's opening and chugging half the can in one swift motion, then the bouncing starts again.

"Hey, man, relax. You didn't seem nearly as nervous when you were trying to sneakily hang out earlier."

Eddie lets out a big sigh. "Yeah, well, I didn't know you hated me then."

"I don't hate you."

"Oh, shit, no. Not what- I meant, like, past tense. Hated as in, used to hate. Not present tense."

"Ah. Well, I don't think I 'hated as in used to hate' past, like, three months into my freshman year. This is going to be the most self-absorbed shit ever, but, like, once I became popular, I couldn't be bothered to hate you. Didn't have the time to put towards that."

"Oh, of that I've no doubt. That was absolutely the read everyone who tried to interact with you got."

Steve ducks his head to hide his own embarrassment by fiddling with the can in his hands. "I thought you wanted to do, like, 20 questions or something."

"Oh. Serious? You'll do it?"

"Yeah."

"Right then. What even are the rules for 20 questions? Is it 20 questions each, or in total asked?"

"I dunno, man. I don't think people actually keep track. I think we just ask questions until we're done with talking. I guess the rules are don't lie, and if you don't want to answer a question, then don't. Pass on it, or whatever."

Eddie nods but he's still nervous, leg still bouncing. A look on his face so close to fear it makes Steve ache a little. He knows too well what far looks like on Eddie, experienced a week's worth of it.

Steve can start. Ease them into this. "Do you got a favorite color?"

Eddie shifts then. Turns sideways on the couch to lean against the armrest and face him. "Wait. One more rule. No mocking answers. You may laugh once at an answer."

"If you are about to tell me it's hot pink, I cannot follow that rule."

"It's not hot pink. Jesus. It's, uhh, brown, actually," Eddie says, rolling his can between his hands. "It used to be red but. I dunno. When I think of red, now, I think of the sky in the upside down and how that was almost the last thing I ever saw. I think of blood, and bleeding out."

And here he thought he was easing them into this with the most basic of questions. Eddie's already being vulnerable. "Follow up question, if you'll allow it. Why brown?"

"What's wrong with brown?"

"Nothing. Just thought you'd pick black or something," Steve gestures to all of Eddie.

At that, Eddie looks down at his mostly black outfit, the only part of it with any color is the DIO album art on his shirt, then back up. "Fair point. I guess brown just makes me think of home. The wooden porch, the paneling, brown dirt road that leads to the trailer. It's also, like, a good eye color. Exhibit A," He waves his hand in front of his face, batting his eyes exaggeratedly. It pulls a laugh from Steve.

"I can't argue that," Steve waves towards his face, where his own eyes have been described by many a girl as ranging from hazel to honey, but Steve just thinks of them as brown. "Your turn, man."

"You, tragically, had never heard of Ozzy before we met. What's your music of choice, and why is it the Top 40?"

"Like everybody didn't hear you singing along to I Wanna Dance With Somebody last week when it came on the radio at the Byers' Barbecue-"

"Whitney is a national treasure and I will not be slandered for knowing the words to any of her songs."

"Yeah, yeah. I guess it was just the Top 40, but really I don't have a preference. I just let other people pick the music. And, uhh, with the multiple concussions I don't listen to as much music as I used to. The migraines are brutal. It's never the music that brings on the migraine but like, it never helps, y'know?"

Eddie is nodding. "I do know. Like when you get sick and vomit, you avoid the last thing you ate, even when it turns out to be the flu and not food poisoning. Like, you know it wasn't the mango milkshake that made you throw up, but you avoid the mango flavor anyway."

There's definitely a full story in that somewhere. Maybe Steve will ask about it later. "Kinda? I don't avoid music but I don't think I've put a record or cassette in the player in months. Anyway, my turn. How'd you learn to play the guitar?"

"Wayne. He started teaching me before I live with him. Just a few chords when we'd visit every so often when I was little. Really got to learn after he took me in. I was eleven, if memory serves."

"Am I allowed to ask about your parents?" Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. Speaking of parents," Eddie's nervous again, bouncing his leg.

"It's your turn. Ask."

"I know the high school reputation. Big house, no parents. I might have even snuck over a few times to sale here when I knew a party was happening. Rich kids will pay whatever price you name, y'know? So, guess the actual question is, what's the deal there, with your parents?"

Steve would laugh except he has no memory of ever seeing Eddie at his house prior to all the fuckery that's gone down. He was too in his own head to bother with other people back then. And the real kicker? He probably bought from Eddie, at his own house, with his supposed grudge and all. God, he was such a dick. "Yeah. Lots of business trips, for them. The used to ship me off to spend a month with my grandparents when I was little, so they could take those trips. Guess once I was old enough to watch after myself, those trips started to happen whenever, instead of just over summer."

"What, they left you here alone as a kid? Even during the school year?"

Eddie sounds so scandalized it'd be funny if it wasn't so sad. Steve says, "I wouldn't say kid. I was fourteen, so, like, a teenager. But, yeah, gone a lot. More and more with each passing year. I mean, they've been back, but like, for a day or two. Mom switching out what jewelry she wanted and dad bit by bit emptying his office." He pauses with a frown, remembering now the last time he did see his parents face to face. "It was about halfway through senior year. The last time they were here. They didn't even come to my graduation."

Eddie sucks in a breath and Steve can visibly see him hold back some choice words.

"Anyway, long sob story short, I'm still just a rich kid with absent parents. They don't charge me rent or anything, but I pay to keep the lights on."

"That just adds so many more questions to my list."

"Well, it's my turn now, so. What got you into Dungeons and Dragons?"

Eddie looks surprised, and then guilty. "I've always liked fantasy. And, uhh, my Freshman First Day, the DnD booth was set up in the cafeteria, an okayish looking dragon drawn on the poster taped to the booth's edge. And, uh, I approached..."

"No one told you to fuck off?"

"I didn't tell you to fuck off."

"Might've hurt less if you had," Steve hadn't even meant that to be insulting, or insinuating, but it doesn't land. He'd been aiming for teasing and missed the mark, given the way Eddie jerks back, like he's trying to put more distance between them. "Oh, shit, Eddie, I didn't mean- I was-"

The doorbell rings out and both jump, turning to the front door like it might bite them. The bell chimes again, and it's then Steve remembers he ordered pizza. Wordlessly Steve gets up and deals with that. Pays for the pizza and gives a tip, stops in the kitchen long enough to grab some napkins, then folds himself back onto the couch, placing the pizza box on the cushions between them.

The time away from the couch, less than three minutes in total, Steve thinks, was enough to calm Eddie again, since he starts the teasing, "greasy pizza box directly onto the cushions! That'll never come out you know."

Steve shrugs and grins, flipping the box open to grab a pizza slice. "That's a problem for Future Steve."

Eddie grabs his own slice, and they just eat their first slices in silence before Steve breaks that, "I really wasn't trying to- earlier, I was trying to joke. About Freshman First Day. Not, uh, not like, pick a fight. So, if you still want to talk, I think it's your turn to ask a question. Any question. A big question."

"Alright. A big one. Who is Christopher?"

"Okay. Uh, just, give me a moment. I'll answer and I'm gonna be real honest right now with you, so just let me get through this, ok?"

Eddie nods, reaching for a second slice of pizza.

Steve gathers his thoughts, and speaks. "Christopher was my cousin. His family lives in Washington, so I don't see them much. You know that 'shipped off to the grandparents' thing I told you about earlier? Christopher, and his younger siblings, Amber and Robert, also came out to visit.

"I think my grandparents loved to have us all there. My cousins were there for family time, and I was there to just... not be in my parent's way, I think, but the reason why doesn't matter. The important bit. Christopher was two years older than me, and I thought he was the coolest person in the world. I wanted to be just like him. That last summer we spent together, he told me all about the game of Dungeons and Dragons he'd played with his club at school.

"It made me want to play. I was a kid who loved fantasy, too. I had to pretend to leave that behind when I got into middle school; too afraid of disappointing my dad for still liking make believe. I didn't know at the time that making him proud was just something I'd never achieve.

"Anyway, Christopher introduced me to the game, told me the entire campaign they'd run at his school, and then sent me those books. He's the reason I was at the booth that day. If Christopher could play sports and be a nerd, maybe I could, too? But, uh, that didn't go how I planned in my head. And, then. Then," Steve stops here, a knot in his throat but his eyes dry. It's not that he doesn't still mourn the loss of Christopher, it's just that the tears have dried up long ago. "Christopher committed suicide, that year. Halfway through the school year. I think... I think even if I had joined your club, if you had let me take that flier, I would have dropped out after the funeral. I'd wanted to join so bad so that Christopher would be proud of me."

The room has lost focus, now. Steve is staring forward but he doesn't really see Eddie anymore. It's like he's fallen into his thoughts and nothing else exists anymore. "It's a bit fucked up, but being older than me, I think I looked for approval in him that I didn't find in my dad, or maybe I wanted to be him because his parents were so proud of everything he did and I wanted that. Approval. I- it's- I think I used to confuse the two. Approval and love. Maybe I still do? I dunno.

"I guess I just wrapped all that up, the need for approval, Christopher's suicide, my love for fantasy, and shoved it in the same bottle deep down that I kept my anger at you in," Steve blinks himself back into the present. Takes in Eddie's face, a mix of sad and fond, like he wants to wrap Steve in a hug. Steve would probably let him. "That wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."

Eddie shakes his head no. "You don't have to apologize to me, Stevie. I get it. You wore your jockness that same way I wear The Freak. Like armor. You weren't wrong, earlier, when you said we were dumb kids who learned to lash out and hurt first, so we couldn't be hurt. I was fucking, no, I am still like that. I mean, I just lashed back out at you when all you did was point out how I'd acted to you."

"Yeah, well, life gives everyone a shit hand sometimes. I used to capitalize on that. Kick people when they were down. It's- it's humbling and, like, awful, to unpack that. I know I'm still working on it, but I didn't have to do it alone. Robin and Dustin have been there for me. Great. They call me on my bullshit and it's easier to take then, hearing it from people I know who care about me."

"Guess I better ask find someone to call me out then."

"Haven't you already?" Steve asks, gesturing to himself.

Eddie barks a laugh. "I- yeah, I guess. You sayin' you care, Harrington?"

"Of course I do, man. We wouldn't be doing this -talking about deep shit and getting pizza grease all over my couch- if I didn't."

He watches Eddie turn red, and hide behind his hair. "Could just be doing it for the kids."

"I could. Guess you'll have to trust I'm not. That I also want a do over."

Eddie shoots him a big smile, dimples on full display, and Steve's happy to let go of his grudge if it means Eddie will smile at him like that more.

-

((Looks like there's going to be one more part. Thought this would be the last one but the boys wouldn't cooperate so next part.))

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven? #platonic stobin #Steve is a recovering rescue dog and Robin is his thunder blanket #dialogue heavy. like. so heavy #they're 'playing' 20 questions so like the whole fic is just talking

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {8}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: Your due date approaches but that’s not the only thing that’s been a long time coming Warnings: 18+ only, fluff WC: 2.7k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine

Round 4 - Japanese GP

“I think I’m in love,” you moaned happily.

“I should hope so,” Lando commented dryly, making Charles laugh.

“She’s not talking about us, mon cher.”

You patted the vending machine full of the greatest snacks you had ever tasted. “Ignore them, it’s just you and me, now take my money.”

“Are we going to karaoke?” Pierre asked, checking his phone to see the time. “Yuki and Daniel are already there.”

“Shh, let the pregnant woman eat,” his girlfriend reprimanded. “She’s growing a whole human in there.”

“Thank you, Kika.” You sent her a grateful smile before throwing your middle finger in Pierre’s direction. The machine whirred and you turned back to see mechanical arms moving your choice down to the little door. “I just need a few more.”

“She’s stalling because she knows she sucks at singing when she’s sober,” Max joked before pulling out his wallet and going to the next machine. “What else do you want?”

Everyone caught onto Max’s idea and lined up along the alley of vending machines and within minutes there were enough snacks to last you the night, plus one huge Pokémon stuffed animal that Pierre chose for the baby. You could barely wrap your arms around the teddy and you narrowed your eyes at your old teammate. “Out of all of the Pokémon you chose…Squirtle?”

His grin widened until his laughter broke through. “What’s wrong with Squirtle? Everyone loves a big squirtle.”

“You’re so immature,” you tried to say with a straight face but it failed as you giggled. “This is going in my bed when I get home. It’s going to be my snuggler when I’m abandoned.”

“We aren’t abandoning you, mon amour. Everyone agreed it’s too close to your due date to come to China.”

You didn’t like it, but it was the truth. You were lucky to even get away with coming to Japan since you were already 37 weeks pregnant. At least there was a two week gap between the races so you would have some time with Lando and Charles before they left for the next race.

“And your mother will be there, so you definitely aren’t abandoned,” Lando pointed out. He took the teddy from you so you could better see where you were walking and tucked it under one arm so he could still hold your hand. “Max has already given us his plane so we can get back if we need to.”

“I have?” Max cocked a brow.

“You may have been drunk when you said it, but there were witnesses.”

Max scratched his head in confusion but he couldn’t recall the memory. Shrugging, he wasn’t really bothered, he would have offered for them use it anyway. “Who’s your reserve if you have to go?”

“Ollie and Pato,” Charles answered. “My baby is in good hands if we miss the race. Lando is a little more worried.”

“Not of Pato, I’ve seen him in testing,” Lando countered. “I just don’t like sharing.” Everyone looked pointedly between you and your boyfriends. “Har-har, I meant my seat, assholes.”

You eventually made it to the karaoke bar and Yuki growled at everyone for being late, except you. You got a tight hug and a strong whiff of alcohol on his breath.

“I didn’t know what you felt like, so I got a bit of everything,” he said as he pointed to the side table full of snacks and non alcoholic drinks. Pierre reached out for a pack of biscuits but Yuki slapped his hand away. “Not for you motherfuckers. Get your own.”

The annual karaoke had grown over the years and you weren’t sure if it was better when you were sober or not. On one hand you nearly wet yourself laughing at how terrible everyone sounded but on the other your ears were almost bleeding by the time they were too drunk to continue. Crashing out onto the hotel bed never felt so good when you finally got back after midnight. Thankfully it was only going to be media day for the guys so they could sleep off their hangovers.

You combed your fingers through Lando’s hair as he spawned out next to you, soft snores falling from his open mouth. A smile played at your lips and Charles chuckled beside you. “Go on,” he said as he nudged you gently. “Say it.”

You couldn’t resist and he knew it. “It’s all too much for Little Lando Norris.”

“Not little,” Lando grumbled.

“You were asleep a second ago.”

“Wasn’t asleep, just resting my eyes.”

“Such a dad thing to say,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek as his breathing evened out and he was asleep once more. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

“You should try to rest too,” Charles murmured as he settled into his pillow and opened his arms for you, his bleary eyes struggling to stay open.

“I will.” You would try to at least, but finding a comfortable position grew harder each day. “I love you.”

“Je t’aime aussi. De beaux rêves.”

He was asleep before you could even reply and you soon followed.

The need to go to the toilet once again woke you and you found Charles' space in the bed empty. After relieving yourself, you followed the light in the living room to see the curtains swaying softly in the breeze.

Charles stood on the balcony overlooking the city, his fingers idly running his matching trinity necklace along its chain. It was only as you got closer you saw his eyes weren’t on the city below but the dark skies above and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“What’s on your mind, handsome?”

He turned and leaned back against the rail, his hands coming to rest on the impossibly large swell of your stomach. You placed your hands over Charles’ and guided them to where the action was happening against your ribs, a nice reprieve from being kicked in the bladder. You couldn’t get much bigger before you popped and the stretch marks already showed the strain the pregnancy was having on your body.

“I wish Jules was here to see this.”

You hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting the driver but from what Charles had said it would have been hard not to love the charismatic person he described. “I’m sure he would be proud of you. I am. Have you thought any more about her name?”

Charles chewed his lip before sighing. “No, I want something new. I don’t want her to be pressured by the weight of the name she carries.”

You could completely understand how a name changed everything and nodded. “Okay, I’ll cross Julia off the list.”

“And Landa.”

You wrinkled your nose in distaste. “That was never on my list. I don’t know why you didn’t shut that idea down right away.”

Charles chuckled and kissed your nose. “Because it’s funny, mon amour. He actually thought it had a real chance.”

“Our hopeless dreamer,” you sighed, resting your head on his chest as you yawned.

There wasn’t much time left to narrow down the list of first names but a compromise had been found with the last name. To make it fair, they decided if it was clear Lando was the biological father then Charles' last name would go first and vice-versa. If it wasn’t clear then you were going to have to referee their debate, something you were hoping to avoid.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Charles murmured as he kissed your hand and laced it with his. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

It was no secret you always woke up when one or both of them went missing from your bed. Even asleep you seemed to know when their body warmth disappeared.

“It’s okay. I’ll have to get used to it.”

“When we abandon you?” he teased, but there was an edge of sadness in his tone.

“Maybe that was a little harsh but I was hungry. I’m sorry.” You climbed onto the bed and snuggled in between their warm bodies. “I know you aren’t abandoning me, Cha.”

“Good, now I need to have an important conversation.” He shuffled down so he could kiss your stomach and whispered, “Ma petite, you need to stay inside there until daddy and papa get home. I know it’s a little tight in there and we are very excited to meet you too but you have to hang on just a few more weeks, ma fille. Deal?”

“I'm not sure you are going to get an ans-” A kick interrupted you and Charles smirked.

“My girl already listens to her papa.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you warned as he rejoined you on the pillows. “I hear teenage girls are terrible at listening to their parents. Not me of course, I was an angel.”

It was Charles’ turn to laugh as he curled his arm around your waist and closed his eyes. “An angel…I don’t think that was the word your mother used.”

Your yawn cracked your jaw before you said, “It’s a good thing I have matured since then.”

“Like fine wine, mon ange.” His nose brushed your cheek before he planted a sleepy kiss on your temple. “Bonne nuit.”

Exhaustion turned your tongue heavy as your body relaxed against his. “Goodnight, baby.”

Round 5 - Chinese GP

You wanted to smash your phone when the alarm went off in the middle of the night. The time on the screen said 7.30am but it was a lie. You had only been asleep for a few minutes from what the aches in your body indicated, not hours.

“The drivers parade is starting,” your mother called out from the lounge.

With a groan you pushed away the giant Squirtle you used as a body pillow and rolled to the edge of the bed before swinging your legs off. Just the small movement left you breathless as your lung capacity dropped and you hated the think what your VO2 levels would be like at this point.

“Can you hit record please?” you yelled back before going to the bathroom. There was no way you were going to miss a moment of the days activities, even if it meant watching the pre-race grid walk after the race finished.

You made it to the couch in time to see Charles and Lando climb onto the trailer together and couldn’t help noticing the dark bags under their eyes. They matched yours. It was the first time being away from each other for so long that you were all finding it difficult to adjust and sleep. Video calls couldn’t replace touching them.

They would keep their phones with them until the very last moment when they climbed in the car so you grabbed yours and sent a quick message after reading the sweet good morning messages that came through while you were sleeping.

To Group Chat: Drive fast and keep it clean. I love you.

It took almost half a minute with the delay of live tv for them to pull their phones out before turning and waving to the camera with big smiles, Charles even blew a kiss.

The boys had promised an interesting race during their media interviews on Thursday. Everyone knew it was the first race without you there and they were going to make up for it by pushing their hardest for a win. As it turned out, Checo tried to go three wide into turn one with Max and George, causing a red flag and the retirement of all three cars.

You could practically see the fumes coming off your brother and you didn’t need to be a lip reader to know what he was saying when the camera panned to him in the garage. Maybe Checo would be the next to learn just how fast Red Bull can take away the seat they gave. He wouldn’t be the first and he definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“Eat your breakfast, it’s gone cold.”

The dish your mother made would still sit on the coffee table for another 37 laps but you couldn’t take your eyes off the screen. Charles was leading with Lewis in second place but you knew the Mercedes’ tyre degradation meant Lando would soon be able to overtake, and you weren’t even there to scream for them.

“I will soon,” you lied as you edged closer to the tv and saw the two cars enter the straight. “Get him baby…”

Lando’s rear wing opened, adding to the slipstream he was already getting from Lewis, and he pulled out to shoot past, diving onto his breaks in the corner and taking second place.

“Yes!!!” you screamed as you jumped to your feet.

“Don’t jump around too much, you might break your waters,” your mother warned as she pulled you back down into the couch cushions.

“But did you see that? That was perfect!”

Your mother smiled at your enthusiasm. “He did very well, but you need to calm down.”

Your nail beds were ruined by the time it came to pitting and they both went in on the same lap but Ferrari made a mistake and took a few key seconds to recover. It was just long enough for Lando to be released and get in front of Charles.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, nervously bouncing your knee as Lando defended against Charles. “I can’t watch. Mum, my heart can’t handle this…” She held your hand and you gripped it tight for the remaining laps.

“Go! Go! Go!” you screamed at the tv, leaping to your feet again as Lando finally crossed the finish line less than two seconds ahead of Charles. “YESSSS!!!”

You couldn’t keep still as you rubbed your belly and laughed exuberantly. “Daddy just won his first race! Holy shit, he did it!” You were giddier than the first time you won but he had waited so long for it after being robbed of the win in Sochi. “I can’t believe I’m not fucking there!”

“Language,” your mother reminded with a laugh. You turned to see she was recording your reaction and sent the video to the group chat with Lando and Charles.

“Oh please, she’s not even born, and that’s the least of her worries.”

Lando’s shouts over the team radio made you smile harder and he was still laughing and possibly crying by the time he pulled into the pit lane. “Yeah, baby, about fucking time! Woohoo!! Who’s your daddy?”

“Well done, mate, you deserve this.”

“Thanks, Jarv, are you crying?”

“I just got something in my eye.”

“Yeah me too.”

His car parked in the centre position but he couldn’t get out as sat in disbelief, his helmet dipped with his head. Charles was the first out and half hung into Lando’s cockpit as he embraced the winner. You couldn’t hear their exchange but you could imagine Charles telling him how proud he was before helping him climb out of his seat.

Lando jumped from the halo and into Charles’ arms before Carlos rushed in too after taking third place. You couldn’t help thinking it should have been you with them.

“What a way to take your first win,” Jenson said with a grin as he started the post race interview. “I guess there will be plenty to celebrate tonight. Any plans?”

“Mhmm,” Lando hummed as Charles joined him after his weigh-in. “Big plans. Important plans. We are heading straight to the airport and going home to celebrate with our wife.”

“Wife?” you asked aloud.

“Wife?” Jenson echoed.

“Uh, figure of speech, you know?” Lando chuckled, his neck turning pink at his mistake but he was so high on elation it had slipped out. “We have a baby on the way and our lives are built together. It doesn’t get more committed than that kind of thing.”

“So there haven’t been any secret nuptials we don’t know about?”

“No, not that we wouldn’t if we could but there’s kind of laws or something against it, or so my lawyers say.”

“Trust me, they’ve checked,” Charles added, but it was the first you had heard of it.

You were still thinking about that when they disappeared to the cool down room and when you watched them stand proudly on the podium, the British national anthem playing loudly. You were still thinking about it when they left the stage and the Sky presentation came to an end.

Click here for the next part.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic

[cvpiddszn]

𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐤 | 𝐣.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

a/n: sorry for the lack of content. happy to be back posting my favourite couple

summary: having to explain how babies are made to two five year olds isn't easy.

warnings: children

word count: 1.2k

birdie & jack masterlist

Seven months later

"Mommy?" Little Lake was munching on his Cheerios, his eyes trained on me, a full-on question. I nearly brushed my hand through his brown hair, it was well overdue that we needed a haircut (Jack included). Lake’s hair was beginning to curl at the ends, while Lowen’s had taken longer considering the gum that he had gotten stuck in his hair a couple of months before. 

Switching Amara on my other hip as she held her apple sauce drink in her hands squeezing at the package in hopes that she would be able to suck out anything else. “Yes, baby?” I asked, pulling the drink from the little blonde’s hands to which she whined, I shook my head at her and she made grabby hands towards her father.

Jack only smiled at the girl, taking her from my arms before setting her on his lap so that he could finish eating his toast. He held it out to the little girl to which she nearly bit off his finger while eating it. I leaned down kissing the little girl’s cheek whispering a soft, “good girl” watching as Jack gave me a glare.

Jack was sipping at his apple juice, since he loved it so much, claiming that it was better than orange juice (yes, I argued with him multiple times that orange juice was better). Amara watched her Dad and reached for her cup beginning to drink at it too.

“Where do babies come from?” Lake asked, his voice full of concern as his twin perked up at the question eager to also find out. 

Jack spit out his juice at the question, while I paused watching my husband and then the little girl in his arms follow exactly what her father did, spitting out her juice and then giggling but Jack was so stunned that he didn’t notice the spill on his leg. 

“Jack!” I scolded, tapping his shoulder rather harshly, face cloth in hand wiping at our daughter’s face where she decided that she needed to spit out her drink. I pulled her from his lap, to which her bottom lip came out, missing her father’s arms already. 

Jack coughed, trying to regain his breath. The boys looked toward their father who only sputtered, they looked at me next. Wide innocent eyes and I debated on what I should do, whether it was appropriate or not. We had promised that we wouldn’t lie to our boys but we had already played along with Santa, the Easter Bunny and many other mythical creatures, plus were they truly old enough to understand any of it yet?

Within their childhood, I had already had one kid, another one only four weeks old in my stomach. We had told the boys as quickly as Jack had found out, we knew that it was inevitable that the boys would find out, and they treated their little sister so well, what was one more? 

My husband looked toward me for guidance and I shrugged. “They’re boys, J. Mara and I will just understand each other won’t we, sweet girl?” I cooed at her to which she smiled at me at the newfound nickname. I knew that I would take my twelve months leave with the new baby, Amara wouldn’t be with the Nanny for too long if you counted eight more months. 

Amara grabbed onto my nose, squeezing softly, her small nails pressing into the skin and I shook my head at her. The three boys sat at the table, seemingly waiting for me to say something but it was only a couple of days ago that Jack had complained that he wanted more time with the boys, saying that they clung onto me way too much (which was very true). 

I sighed at the silence, my free hand placing itself on my husband’s shoulders. “You boys actually want to know?” I whispered loudly like it was some secret and even Jack gave a confused look eager to hear me out. The twins nodded eagerly, wide eyes and practically on the edge of their seats with how excited they looked knowing some secrets. “Truth is, there are such things as storks that come to drop off babies at hospitals. We sign a bunch of forms, they run some tests on the mommies to make sure that it’s her baby, and we get to go home with the baby.”

My husband raised his brow at me, looking towards the boys whose mouths made an ‘o’ shape as if it was the realization. “That makes a lot of sense, Annabelle was telling me that it had to do with ‘the birds and the bees’. I don’t know what she meant.” Lowen explained, to which Lake nodded along. The two got out of their seats walking towards their lunches to grab them and make their way into the car.

Jack also stood up from his spot, kissing my cheek and then Amara’s, “Nice save,” He commented, and I only grinned in response, tapping my lips gently so he could get the hint. He didn’t waste another second stealing a kiss from me, hoping to make it last but Amara pushed his face away. Pursing her own lips in an attempt. I laughed at the girl, adjusting her higher on my hip watching as my husband kissed the little girl on her lips as she smiled satisfied.

“Did you get a kiss from Daddy, sweet girl? Hm?” I asked her as she gurgled in response. Surprisingly she hadn’t said her first word but there were many bets placed between our families that her first word would be “Dada” or something along the lines but I knew that it was going to be something else. Call it mother’s instinct if you will. I looked towards Jack who had seemed to admire us, “You’re going to make the boys late, J. You’ll be back with your girl right after you drop off the boys.”

“My girls, you mean.” He corrected me and I gave him an adoring look before placing my hand on his back, nudging him forward hinting towards the time. He only nodded in response, kissing my cheek briefly before racing out the door.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Mrs, Laurier, we had an incident today.” Lake’s teacher, Miss. Calvin, walked up to me as the boys were ushered into the SUV beginning to talk amongst each other. We had thought that it was best that to separate the boys young, it gave them more to talk about in the car and sometimes twins created more chaos together rather than separately.

My brows raised, motioning her to continue as I closed the car door. “There was an argument that broke out between some kids, including Lake. Something about that storks were bringing his new sibling? Our Principal said that we don’t condone lying so we’re going to need you to tell your boy that he’s wrong.” She explained a nervous smile on her face that told me, she didn’t believe in anything she was saying. 

I barely even paused shrugging my shoulders, “Okay,” Was the only thing I said before walking to the other side of the vehicle. 

She waved at me, smiling, “See you tomorrow!”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” I mumbled pulling out of the pick-up area, biting the inside of my cheek. Holding me back from parking and storming into the Principal’s office and screaming at her. Who were teachers to tell parents how to parent their children? We certainly don’t tell them how to do their job.

There was no way I was going back to that place, and Jack would agree as he always did

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #jack hughes #nhl hockey #hughes brothers #cvpiddszn writes #luke hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #nico hischier imagine

[writeblrcafe]

A Comprehensive Guide for Writing Advice

Sometimes, despite enjoying writing so much, something is not working for you. Maybe your well of ideas has run dry. Or your WIP has hit a corner and you can't find your way out to the end of the story. Or you need to go back to your finished draft and see if there are any kinks to clear up.

Fortunately, everyone at Writeblrcafé has experienced such, and to help you out, we have a bunch of links to helpful posts by fellow writers to help you along on your writing journey as well as some helpful links to other websites, resources and software.

General:

WHY IS WRITING IS SO FUCKING HARD? (@writers-hq)

Writer Block First Aid Kit (@isabellestone)

Websites for writers (masterpost @2soulscollide)

Writing advice (masterpost @theliteraryarchitect)

Writing resources (masterpost @stinastar)

One look thesaurus (a reverse dictionary where you can enter words or concepts)

Coming Up with Ideas:

97 Character Motivations (@theplottery)

Character Flaws (@fantasyfillsmysoul)

Character Profile (@mistblossomdesigns)

Characters Unflawed (@emptymanuscript)

Why Theme is More Important than Plot (@theplottery)

Weekly writing prompts on Reedsy

Drafting:

3 of the worst story beginnings (and how to fix them) (@theplottery)

Cheat Sheet for Writing Emotion (@myhoniahaka)

Creative Writing for Writers (@writerscreed)

Describing Physical Things (@wordsnstuff)

How to Craft a Natural Plot (@theplottery)

How to Write a Story? (masterpost @creativepromptsforwriting)

How to write: ethnicity & skin colour (@youneedsomeprompts)

What the F is Show Not Tell (@theplottery)

Writing advice from my uni teachers (@thewritingumbrellas)

First Draft: story outlining template meant to help with planning your next big writing project (@fauxriot)

The wonder/ discovery arc (@evelynmlewis)

How to structure a chapter (@theplottery)

How to pace your storytelling (@charlesoberonn)

How to write and research mental illness (@hayatheauthor)

Seven Blogs You Need To Read As An Author (@hayatheauthor)

Editing/Revising:

Eight steps in making the editing process of your book easier (@joaneunknown)

Kill Your Darlings (@tibodine)

Self editing tips (first pass) (@projecttreehouse)

Publishing:

Chill Subs: biggest database for literary magazines and small presses; track your submissions and get your writing published!

5 steps to get your novel ready to self-publish (by @nanowrimo)

Resources for finishing and publishing your novel (masterpost by @nanowrimo)

For self-publishing: this page gives you the exact pixel count of a book spine based on its page count, and/or a template you can use for the correct width/height ratio.

Software:

Scrivener: one time payment of $60 or 70€ (macOS/windows), $24 (iOS; no Euro listed for iOS); used by professionals, many tools to write and organize your novel

Bibisco: free and "pay what you want" version; multilingual, world building, character profiles, writing goals, story timeline, mind maps, notes and more templates to write a novel.

Manuskript: free open source-tool; outliner, novel assistant, distraction-free mode

Ghostwriter: a free and open alternative which has a decent interface with some interesting features, like Hemingway Mode, which disables one's backspace and delete keys, emulating a typewriter.

NaNoWriMo: an international contest to encourage writers to finish writing their novel with many events, groups for exchange with fellow writers, helpful writing advice and help for self-publishing and publishing traditionally.

Campfire Writing: website, desktop app, and mobile app, with tools built in to help manage characters, magic systems, research, etc. It has a great free option, plus monthly, annual, and lifetime purchase options. It also has built-in NaNoWriMo compatibility and a catalogue of tutorials and writing advice videos (suggestion by @harfblarf)

Websites And Writing Apps Every Author Needs In 2023 (@hayatheauthor)

Let us know in the comments if there are any links we could add to it! Reblog this post to help a fellow writer.

Support our work by buying a cup of coffee on KoFi.

#wc.admin #writing community #writing advice #writing tips #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing resources #writing software

[sweetlyskz]

Emerald Gem||Chapter Five

Chapter one|Chapter two|Chapter three|Chapter four|Chapter five|Chapter six|Chapter seven|Chapter eight||Chapter nine|Chapter ten (finale!)|

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Unedited

"How much longer do we have to keep walking?"

The group was extremely sick and exhausted, walking miles and miles along the forest. When Jimin had no more energy left, the youngest carried him on his back. The pack leader was fearful of the government coming to find them, so during the day they walked nonstop. And when the sun would finally rest, they would rest in the nearest cave or by the tallest tree.

"Until we make it to some water", Joon claimed, ears perked to listen for the closest stream. "I can hear it. We're almost there."

"We wouldn't have had to run, y'know..." Jimin was absentmindedly whispering his thoughts, delirious from lack of sleep.

"I miss her", Tae whined. "And I miss the food, and the comfy bed, and the little chickens..."

Namjoon ignored their complaints, keeping the same pace. He was just as sick and tired as they were, but his love for his pack kept him strong. Now matter how much they tried to convince him to stay, it didn't work. But they couldn't blame him- Namjoon has been burned before.

And he wasn't gonna let it happen again.

Justin didn't like taking the bus. The older kids always made fun of him. Plus, his school was only a couple of minutes away from home if he took the shortcut. So everyday afterschool he would hop the fence behind the school and take left and right turns through the alleyways to get home.

Until one day where he met a little wolf hybrid. Justin had stumbled upon the little guy next to a dumpster in the alley. He was frail and weak looking. His short was torn, his pants were jagged, and the soles of his feet were black.

"Hey little guy", Justin whispered, slowly walking up to the wolf as to not startle him. However it did quite the opposite.

"Please!" He screamed. "I'll go but please don't hurt me!"

With that, Justin backed away. "I'm not gonna hurt you- promise!" The hybrid stood on his feet with haste, getting ready to make a fast exit.

But Justin didn't wanna let him go.

"Are you lost? Do you need some help?" That's when he realized Justin wasn't coming for him- he probably didn't even know who he was.

"N-no. Im f-fine", he whispered, making his way to the kind human who offered to help him. "Just please don't tell anyone I'm here-please." He got down on his knees and pleaded.

"I won't, I swear. But, you can't stay here. Whoever you're hiding from will find you as easily as I did."

The hybrid thought for a second, pondering over his next moves. He's probably been on the run his whole life. His street smarts are probably beyond compare. At least, that's what Justin thought.

"I have nowhere to go..." He whispered. "My family... they're dead. They're all dead- and I'm alone."

It was like looking in a mirror. Justin had found someone just like him. Parentless, scared, afraid. He had a feeling he could help. "You can come stay with me for a while", he offered.

And just like that- he found himself stepping into Justins small apartment. It was cramped, but it's all Justin could afford so he made it work. They lived together for month before Justin finally asked what his name was.

"Namjoon", he replied. "My name is Kim Namjoon, and I'm wanted for murder."

***

Some of the food in your fridge had spoiled. Just to prevent from wasting you walked miles away to the nearest neighbor and gave them all of your leftovers. It been a couple weeks since the guys had left, and you were feeling lost-empty. You knew who they were. You knew what people called him. You knew they were wanted by the government, but it didn't stop you from taking them in.

And even though they hadn't stayed long, it was hard to imagine what life was like without them- especially when you had already imagined a life with them.

When it was time to rest your head, you would walk by their rooms and whisper goodnight. But even though no one was there, the ghost of them always replied back, "goodnight, sweet dreams."

Every now and then you swear you hear laughing downstairs, the sound of Hoseok rolling around in the grassy field, or even the sound of Taehyung flipping the page of a good book. Every now and then, while making dinner, you feel a presence creep up behind you asking "Can I just have one bite? How will I know if it's good if I don't try it?" Jungkook loved to sneak bits of supper before it was ready.

The feeling made you queasy, and it brought tears to your eyes. It made you anxious, so you watched the new every night in hopes that they hadn't been caught. Because, even though they didn't want to stay with you, you sure as hell weren't going to let the researchers have them.

You had already made that mistake once before.

Your birthday party was absolutely amazing! Your friends were there, all of your family came. Even the gifts were memorable. However, something was missing. Your nine year old self couldn't put your finger on it, but something seemed off about that day. It felt as though you were at someone else's birthday party, like the party wasn't for you.

If wasn't until you got older that you realized that it was true- it wasn't technically your birthday party. It was your birthday- that part it true. However, the party was your father's. It was your father's friends, it was their children. They were never your friends. No one would even notice if you weren't there.

So you left.

By your house was a lake, a peaceful lake where all you could hear was the wind blowing through the trees. That's where you snuck off to that night. That's where you met Mina. She was a wolf- the most beautiful wolf you might ever have seen (the only wolf at that time). Her fur was pure white with specks of gray, and her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. One might've been afraid of her, but you certainly were not. She could tell.

"You come here often, Don't you?" The wolf could speak. For some reason, that didn't scare you either. "From the trees, I notice you come hear to wipe your tears. What's bothering you?"

"I'm alone", you whispered, audibly enough for her to hear. "I don't think I'm supposed to exist. All the signs point against it." You laid in the grass, picking piece to fiddle with. Telling your secrets to a total stranger wasn't the best option. But for you, it was the only option.

"Don't speak such words", she scolded. "Close your eyes. I wanna show you a secret."

You obeyed, shutting your eyes as tight as you could. Out of nowhere, great winds blew and the ground shook.

"Now, open."

She was gone. She vanished, right in front of you. The wolf had vanished, and what replaced it was even more beautiful. Her hair was silver. Her eyes were green. She clothed her self in leaves- fitted like a dress.

"Happy birthday, pup", she smiled. Your eyes began to shed tears. She was the first person to wish you happy birthday- Not even your parents did so.

"T-thank you", you sniffled. "I'm Y/n." She patted your head, the same way your mother once did. It was comforting. Here she was, a total stranger, and she's given you more attention than your mother has in a long time. It entranced you, to the point of laying your head on her

"I know", She sighed. "The nights not going so well, is it?"

You nodded. "When does it ever? I'm nine and feel like I'm an adult- so much I haven't done with so much responsibility."

Daciana was her name, a quite beautiful name. You told her all your fears and she held you close. She comforted you when no one else would.

You will never forgive yourself for what happened to her...

***

The cave was cold, almost icy. Jin wanted to light a fire but Joon was strongly against it. "That'll make us an easy target", he scolded.

Jimin laid flat on his back, having no neck or back support. He thought of you. What are you doing right now? What may you be wearing? He dreamed of the dinner you might be cooking.

Does she even care that we're gone?

Jungkook was trying his best to keep Hobi's fever down, but it continued to rise. Taehyung was in excruciating pain. Yoongi was absolutely delirious and Joon could hardly breathe, choosing the solid ground as the best place to rest.

"Joon, we can't go on like this", Jin begged. It hurt him to see his pack in so much pain. It hurt even more to know the cause of it was his pack alpha.

He heaved, trying to get back on his two feet with no avail. "What else can we do? The minute we think we're safe, we'll will be taken. You know this! Where can we possibly go?"

"Back home", Jimin mumbled, using the last bits of his energy. "I wanna go back home, to Y/n."

"Me too", Kook whispered just audible enough to hear. The rest of the pack agreed, sharing their sentiments- everyone except Namjoon. While everyone whined and groaned, he laughed exasperatedly.

"Are you guys serious? She would've turned us over to the authors the minute she found out who we really are! How many times do I have to tell you this? You cannot trust humans."

Jin was fed up. He was sick, exhausted, and lonely. And he was done following orders.

"What do you think you're doing?" The pack watched Jin as he put Jimin on his back, heading towards the entrance of the cave.

"We're going home, Joon..." Jimin struggled to keep his eyes open, but a smile was plastered on his face. It was hard to miss his excitement, even if it was a little hard for him to express. "Anyone who wants to come can come, but I'm tired of living in fear."

He continued, pointing towards his alpha. "Let me know when you're done too. You know where to find us."

And with that, the six pack member left the dark and empty cave, leaving Namjoon alone with his thoughts.

What am I gonna do now? He thought.

-

-

Taglist!

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