#will update with more streams if there are for if one gets taken down or whatever

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, graphic depictions of violence, dead bodies, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort, implied sexual content,

W/c: 8.6k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual after such a long wait. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. When i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

“I shot Minnie.”

It takes you a breath for the words to sink in. Standing in the bathroom in the half-grey darkness golden hallway light streaming in through the open door. It’s strange how inside of your body you feel at that moment.

That frantic fever urgency of your pulse, your breath, your everything when traumatic things are about to happen and when they’re happening.

For a moment you’re keenly aware of every molecule of your body. The tacky-sweet feeling of slick drying between your thighs, the cold smoothness of the slate tile beneath your feet, the too-long press of your fingernails as you grip the bathroom countertop to keep from falling to the tile floor. Everything in feverish detail.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the light from Yoongi’s phone screen illuminates your face in blue. You look at the mirror, then down at your hands.

Minnie, a gun.

A bullet, Jin.

Your brain is whirling. Putting two and two together is like putting together a recipe. Only now you have the result and have to backtrack. How did you get here? Jin keeps talking, word vomiting down the line, and you miss a few sentences while you’re trying to put it together.

Butter, cream, sugar.

You, Jin, Jimin.

Jimin.

You think you might vomit tiramisu all over the bathroom floor.

You close your eyes, thinking hard while Jin talks. His words run over themselves with worry. “I discharged my weapon if we go to the hospital- they’ll- they’ll know and I don’t know if I can cover this up with just lies-”

“Is he dead?” Your voice is lethal in its quiet, so quiet that you think it might not go through the phone. Jin doesn’t hear it- too preoccupied with his own terror.

You close your eyes, quietly begging anything or anyone who might be listening. If god is going to take so much from him- the least she can do is give jimin this. One simple measly miracle is all you're asking for.

“Jin- tell me right the fuck now- Is Jimin dead?”

“Pup.” Jin sounds like he’s just been strangled. Like all the wind has just been knocked out of him. “Put Yoongi on the line.”

“No.” You're shaking, your heartbeat in your ears louder than your lofty hopes. Hand digging into the counter so hard that you feel it in your bones. “No, not until you tell me right now- is Minnie-”

“Hey pup.” Jimin’s voice is a quiet croak. You sag against the countertop and slide to the floor. It’s barely a weak whisper on the other side of the line. You’re glad it’s not a video call. You’re not sure you could handle seeing him if he sounds so raw. “Minnie- Minnie are you? does Jin?”

Does Jin know?

Jin must have taken back the phone because- “I need you to go get Yoongi. Now. We can’t be here any longer than necessary.” there's the muffled sound of shuffling, of hair grating against the speaker. "We're vulnerable here, I don't know if more people will come."

You move, leaving the bathroom and thundering up the steep stairs to the bedroom. There's the distant sound of Hoseok in the kitchen probably putting away the tiramisu. You head for the nest, rushing, falling to your knees in front of it, phone pinned between your shoulder and your ear.

“Yoongi isn’t here. He’s with Jungkook and Tae and Namjoon.”

“Hang up then and I’ll call Namjoon.” You peel back the nest skirt to get under it, where Jimin keeps his gun cases. They're there in the shadows, three of them black and plastic. A photocopy of his concealed carry license is taped to each on top. No one had been particularly happy about him storing them there (Namjoon especially) But now you’re glad to have them close on hand.

“No, not until you tell me where you are.”

“Pup this isn’t- you can’t-”

“Jin, please.”

You try the same code that Jimin has for his cellphone. You know it because you have a habit of going through his after your dates for some of the photos that he takes of you and Tae.

8-7-5-8.

The box clicks open and you roll your eyes. Alphas.

“Pup” you wait for him to say that he needs more help than you can offer, that carrying Minnie and keeping him alive is more than you can help with. You wait for him to say that you’re neither strong enough mentally nor physically to handle this.

But it doesn’t come. Jin’s tiny fraught sigh is there, but then-

“Alright.”

There are spots for five different handguns inside. Two missing vacant cuts into the foam. You take the smallest one, checking stock to make sure it's got bullets in it. You fumble with it, unsure and unused to this. You make sure the safety is on before you tuck it into your waistband.

“Send me your address. And if you need to- get rid of Jimin's gun- god only knows whats on that.” To Jin’s credit, he hardly splutters, hardly takes in another shaky breath.

“How do you know-” You descend the stairs slower. Screwing your eyes shut tight to keep from crying, leashing your voice into something gentle.

“Jin, Minnie is bleeding. You have more important things to worry about right now. We need to figure out how to keep Jimin alive and undiscovered.”

“You know-”

“Yes, I fucking know about Jimin, okay? We’re wasting time. Bye.”

You hang up on him. Your hands are still shaking and you spend a breath looking at them. You want to call Yoongi. Your body aching for your mate's touch, for how steady he makes you feel just by being there. the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, the way his hand is always hovering near the small of your back to guide you- to options that won't hurt and secrets that won't damage things.

You need your mate for this, already your pulse is hammering. The haze of a panic attack on the edge of your vision. One second foggy fear, the next heartbreaking clarity.

Maybe you know how this ends, you know why this is happening even if you try and ignore it. Maybe you realize just then what's going to happen. Not today but eventually, it turns you cold from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You might not lie to the pack (lying by omission doesn't carry the same weight) but you lie to yourself often.

You will call Yoongi, you decide. You pick the phone back up and navigate towards Tae’s contact. Your thumb hovers between her name and Jungkook’s. You don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your voice steady calling her but Jungkook will almost certainly be able to tell something's wrong just from your tone alone. He's perceptive like that.

Before you can make the call something moves in your peripheries.

There is a dark figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from the front door and the bay window. It makes you startle but at second glance it’s just Hobi. You look down at him 3 steps up the stairs. Yoongi's phone in your hand and a gun at the small of your back, covered by the fluff of his sweatshirt.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask who you were talking on the phone with. He just tilts his in question, eyes teaming with that warm sort of playfulness.

You have a decision to make; let his opinion of the pack remain what it is or change it for good. In an irrevocable way that you won't be able to take back. It feels like too much change too quickly. Barely an hour ago he was telling you he loves you and now-

The thing about secrets is that they’re terribly hard to keep.

Hobi notices, because Hobi always notices when there’s some sort of change in you or a shift in your mood- call it a survival instinct if you won't call it love.

The set of your jaw is less pouty neediness and more leashed discomfort. Your expression is the same one you had when tae came out and you sat with them at the table and told them for you. You'd think that telling other people's secrets would be easier but it isn't.

Hobi knows your tells. What it looks like when you're about to play your hand. Ace's and all.

You descend the last few steps, each one thudding, making sure you're on the same level before you slowly wrap your arms around his waist. You do it slow even though you feel every second like a gunshot wound. Like every second could be Jimin’s last heartbeat.

(thump thump thump)

Pulling yourself in tight. His hands smooth up and down your back. You could call Yoongi but-

Hobi looks down at you, pecking your forehead. He smiles softly, his lips twisting into something like a grimace because you smell a little bit sour. Doesn't mean he's not going to kiss you but-

You wonder how many times he’s kissed you already, it's only been a day but you’re already losing track of how many, maybe 2 dozen now. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes then back again.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to pout at me until I go get Yoongi?”

You shake your head and close your eyes hard. "Don't get Yoongi."

Stealing yourself just a little and hold Hobi a little closer, a little harder. But there’s nothing you can say, no lie that you can tell that will make this better. No secret that you could confess either.

“Jin called and something bad has happened.”

You feel more than see the goosebumps on Hobi’s arms as you pull away, the visceral hard swallow as he looks at your face again, waits, expecting you to pull back say-“It’s a joke it’s nothing-“ But it doesn't come.

“You have two choices Hobi, you can go to the pizza shop, and hang out with Tae and Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi or-” Hobi searches your face for something he knows; the darkness in your eyes, the vague tremble in your arms around his waist. “Or you can help me and be scared. I kind of-”

I kind of need you

But Hobi should have agency in this and shouldn't just take this path because of you. After Yoongi, you've learned when and where to give people the choice to be dragged into things they'd be better off sidestepping. You don't say it but Hobi hears it all the same.

Hobi looks so earnest but asking this of him is no easy thing. It would be easier if you weren’t so keenly aware that you’re taking away something from him. You’re giving Hobi the choice you never got that Yoongi never got, and he'll choose the same path anyway.

He cups your face, skimming his thumb up and down your cheek.“I’m okay with being scared.” I'm okay with being scared so long as it's for you.

“This is serious, this is- you can’t ask questions until I have time to answer them, you just have to listen, understand?”

“Okay.” He nods, tousled hair fluffing, looking so innocent and eager to please that you almost tell him to just stay home.

But as much as you hate to admit it. If Jimin is injured, there’s a chance you and Jin might need a second pair of hands.

It’s a blur. Tugging on your shoes- the same ones Yoongi got you ages ago for your first date with Jimin and Tae. And when you stand, he’s holding out your jacket for you to step into. When you nuzzle into the collar there's the scent of vanilla there from where Jimin rubbed his nose to your throat when you were at the hospital. It doesn't seem possible that it was only yesterday. Everything is Jimin Jimin Jimin.

“Thank you,” you say, sounding vaguely hollow. He kisses the nape of your neck and you put your hand over it.

You point your feet in the direction of Hobi’s car and get in the driver's seat. Taking his keys from him because you need them, need to be the one who drives right now. Holding the steering wheel and controlling the acceleration. Pressing down as fast as a heartbeat.

Thumpthumpthump.

You pull away from the house with a screech hitting the curb with a bit of flying sparks. you don't even wait for it to warm up. Hobi’s hands are on the plastic console of the driver’s side, holding it to keep himself from bobbing before he's belted in. He looks over at you startled. But he doesn't ask you to slow down.

You keep your eyes on the road, blinking back tears. Controlling your emotions because you can’t drive through blurry eyes. Every inch, every tick of the needle, every second of pavement screeching tire means you're a second closer to jimin.

"Jin’s going to send you an address in a few seconds, and I need you to tell me which way to turn.”

Hobi looks at you and then looks at the phone. He doesn’t try to put on a playlist, he doesn’t try to do anything just stares at you and bobbs in his seat when you take a corner too fast.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Nothing; you’re just driving like if we don’t get there in time, someone is going to die.”

~-~

Hoseok remains remarkably calm for the drive, barely saying anything except for the winces he lets out every time you do something risky with the car like take turns at 30 miles an hour or evade a break check by driving along the shoulder.

You start to pass by empty factory buildings. The wheels of his car thudding over cracks and dips in the road until it becomes dust and gravel and the smell of gasoline permeates the interior of the car. Questions building like the heat pumping from the vents.

But he did promise not to ask until later.

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old street lamp lights punctuate the darkness. Husks of metal rise like soldiers from the shadows. The sky burning rust orange from the distant lights of the city. Not a single star in sight.

Jin’s car is there; Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as the car's lights roll over it. Jimin's car is another 50 feet away and buried in the darkness. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine across a narrow tributary casting everything; the river and the buildings, into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in car tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out.

"Hobi, sink or swim?"

He looks down at the gun in your hand, "Swim." You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him but you don’t waste another second arguing. You head off following the disturbed dust and Hobi trails behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe from larger questions he should have been asking.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be? The only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin. But the way you walk; completely silent is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly. It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger, your index finger balanced along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Yoongi. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? Hobi had almost forgotten about it.

There are some things that you never forget. Trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you; you say nothing.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you.

Jimin is sitting in one of the puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet bereft when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway. Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!”

you run to him, tucking the gun back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding wet-dark fabric. Not water but blood.

Hobi stays there in the doorway, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor.

Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, and Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek. "Hey- wake up for me a sec okay? We're gonna get you out of here-"

“Hey pup” he laughs half delirious with pain, wincing like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs. "Did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed and his pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her I’m sorry. Could you tell her for me?”

This is something Tied tourniquet tight around Jimin’s shoulder to keep him from bleeding out. something you didn't immediately notice. You stare down at the vest now- at the yellow patch letters slowly darkening with blood.

FBI, and then in smaller letters; Organized crime division, Dir. Kim.

Jin appears from around the corner, covered in dust and blood across his thighs, and his throat. So quick you barely have time to raise the gun and then put it down when you see it's not some stranger- someone sent from Yoongi's family to tie up loose ends.

Your hand tightens on the gun as you stare at Jin.

The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his forearms and black nitrile gloves cover his hands; same as Jimin's- although one is ripped. His eyes flick from you to Hobi and he almost flinches.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Jin looks back at you. “Did you have to tell Hobi?”

You bristle “I didn’t tell him anything yet. That’s how you properly protect people. Instead of you know-” The insult doesn’t make sense and neither does your anger. Jin is your pack omega but it doesn’t feel like it when you grab his lapel and shake him a little. He doesn’t move, You’re too slight to alter his course.

Hobi stumbles to your side, hand on your shoulder and Jin's. The pack omega almost flinches at the touch.

“Will both of you swallow your god damn pride and-”

The three of you fall silent when Jimin reaches up to grab your thigh.

Jimin's hand on your wrist goes vice-tight, and when you look down at him, he's more lucid. More there through the haze of pain and blood. "If anyone has any right to be mad at Jinnie- it's me."

You stare Jin down, and after a breath, he's the one who looks away from your glare, taking your hands from his coat and gently detangling them.

"Let's just get him to the fucking car." You bite out. And you get back on your knees to gently guide Jimin away from leaning up against the metal. Get your hand around Jimin’s good arm and start to try and tug him to his feet. His eyes follow you fever bright. “Tell Tae that yourself when we get you out of here.”

the three of you get jimin on his feet. Jin under his good shoulder and Hobi by his hip you there, grabbing Jimin's gun and the mask from the ground. Hobi almost trips on a piece of metal.

He’s being so good with this so- so normal. Making pregnant and stressed eye contact with you when you look at him but stay mostly silent.

Jimin’s car keys fall onto the dusty earth just as you get to Hobi’s. placing jimin gently into the backseat before you stop to pick them up.

“My car; they can’t find it here.” You glance at Jin, then Hobi, looking grey.

“Someone needs to be in the back of the car to stabilize you. you can’t just be flopping around when we drive to the-” You break off because oh this just got so much worse; there’s no way that Jimin’s going to be able to go to the hospital. Even with injuries like this.

You make eye contact with Jin again, and both of you realize at the same time, the mountain of evidence that must be inside it, but you're only the three of you- if you take Jimin's car and Hobi takes his and Jin takes his own- no one will be there to hold Minnie and keep him stable. But who knows when you'll have a chance to come back and get Jimin's car.

If the authorities find his car and the body still inside that building. There's no shortage of what they might be able to convict Jimin for. If there was ever a time that you needed another person it would be right now. You should have called Yoongi.

You look up at Jin, “Get rid of it, we just have to-”

“The river-” You stand there, two opposite sides of the same coin both grinning because it's a good plan.

“If we sink it, they’ll never find it.”

A couple of miles away where the floodlights shine, they must knock over something large because you hear the boom and feel the tremble in the earth.

You take everything out of the car first, throwing it into the front seat of Hobi's car. Hobi tries not to think about the items too hard. The sniper rifle, the 3 bulletproof vests, or the ski mask. There's a variety of other equipment underneath the false bottom, arranged perfectly, everything has its spot. An empty tranquilizer gun. Ropes and black trash bags.

The three of you work like a polished team. Moving the car as close as you can to the water Near an old dry dock that flooded, where the soil turns soft and spongy.

It’s hard to push even though you put the car in neutral. the three of you still have to put all your weight into it. Jimin waits in Hobi’s car, parked on the edge. Watching your sluggish procession.

“Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.”

“Shut up you are not going to die” You snap. The line of the doorframe digs into your shoulder as you push with all your might, putting all of your anger and betrayal behind it because it has nowhere to go otherwise.

Jimin really isn’t helping. Hand pressed over his bullet wound, blood slowly dripping from between his fingers.

Your feet fight against the muck, sliding through it, cold and gross around your ankles. Water soaks your socks.

“Seriously I’m bleeding all over the interior. gonna have to get it detailed after i'm gone.” Hobi picks his head up from the other side, grinning at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve even felt a ghost of a smile grace your face since you got the call. He has no idea how much you need that smile.

“It’s red, won’t stain. Don't worry minnie.”

“Your concern for me is glowing.” He's smiling but Jimin’s hand is knuckle-tight over his shoulder.

“Shut up.” you grind out.

Once you get going downhill it’s easy to push the car, down down down until you hit the muck, knee-deep in the fowl-smelling stuff. You walk with it into the icy water. Hobi’s sweatshirt is so big on you and it billows around you in the brackish water. Weighing you down like an anchor in a storm. You guide the car and the cold water is up to your waist. The car thuds and then shudders, bubbling as you get it deeper and deeper.

"That should be good. Come on."

You think you’re fine until you try to pull away from the side of the car and can’t.

Hobi is already cutting through the water back towards the shore, his back to you. You can’t move, and the car is sinking inch by inch. Slowly dragging you along with it. Some corner of your sweatshirt snagged on the doorframe or hooked.

Your hands move scrabbling. Trying to find the spot at your hip where you’re caught. But you can’t see, the water is so dark you can't even see your hands below the surface. Is it terror or just the cold that makes your hands so uncooperative?

You haven’t even had time to cry out before there is a body behind you, hand closing around the spot where you’re snagged under the water, ripping the fabric with strong hands.

Jin’s hands don’t leave you once he’s untangled you, grabbing your hips and dragging you back, back through the mud and up to the embankment. His hand on the back of your neck, “I’ve got you pup, you’re okay, you’re fine.”

Hobi’s already standing up there, soaking wet too. The dust pills on your pant legs and behind you, the car gives one last gurgle. Disappearing for good.

In the dusty darkness, you look at Jin. His gaunt face, soaked with muck like you are. The ends of his hair clumped together, muddy. You blink up at him and he blinks down at you, water in his eyes.

Jimin and Hobi wait, watching you both stand there. Suddenly the gun in your waistband feels too heavy to carry any longer.

Jin closes his eyes, screwing them shut tight like he's waiting for you to shove him again. “Before you yell at me, you should know that Yoongi already knows, about me being an FBI agent. He's known since the beginning."

there is a moment of silence where hobi looks from you to jin. But then You collide with Jin burying your face in the front of his shirt. He swallows past the lump in his throat. One bloody hand comes up to touch your hair and cradle the back of your head.

“Pup- we don’t have time, we have to go. Minnie-” You pull back, eyes wet.

“Alright- alright- just- we’ll meet you at home?”

Jin turns to Hobi, nodding. Hoseok stoops, putting Jimin's legs in the back of the car, they're shaking. All of Jimin is shaking. His body is in shock from losing so much blood and from the cold.

“Don’t speed, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull you over.”

~-~

(Namjoon.)

The inside of the pizza parlor is balmy with the smell of cooking dough, garlic, parmesan cheese, and Jungkook's happy sunny scent. So at odds with the cold outside.

Namjoon watches Tae and Jungkook giggle and act like pups. Heart clenching the way it always does when he looks at the pack. They smell like roses and honey, like spring days far away now in winter but Namjoon can already feel the spring warmth thawing his tiredness left over from work. A haze to the edge of his vision like he's feeling bumble-bee fluff and sucking honey from the air.

Hope is hot and necessary like sunlight, and Namjoon has a whole lot of it for the future right now. and good for him honestly- it's the last easy breathes he's going to have for a good long while.

He can't believe it. You and Hobi. His body gives an involuntary happy shiver.

Yoongi catches it and raises a knowing eyebrow.

The pack is willing to wait here and give you and Hobi a little more time to sort things out. They've given you hours, they'll give maybe one more. They've already taken Tae and Jungkook out for ice cream. Dessert before dinner has both of them sugar high and hyper.

The pizza parlor is mostly empty- there are no glares or looks as they laugh loud and try to imitate a dance, jungkook's phone propped up on a napkin holder.

Namjoon and yoongi don't join in, they just stare at each other. Yoongi looks like he might be a little bit in shock, the scent blooming every few seconds, sweet chocolate cocoa when he thinks of it, and salty worry when he reaches over to check Tae's phone- just to see if you've texted.

Namjoon knows, and so does Jungkook because Jungkook knows everything.

“I can’t believe they actually-” Jungkook snorts, this isn’t the first time Yoongi’s repeated those words, he’s been muttering it under his breath every few minutes for the last few hours, mostly to himself. Jungkook indulges him this time.

“I know- I thought they’d be emotionally constipated for at least another month.”

Jungkook’s hand is nearly permanently glued to the back of Yoongi’s neck, squeezing reassuringly every few seconds. Even as he and Tae giggle and fall into each other, watching back their video on Tae’s phone. Her sparkly phone case catches the light, and little bits of glitter fall and trickle slowly just like the snow falling outside.

Namjoon's thoughts slush slowly.

Namjoon feels settled down to his bones, in that deep-seated alpha way that he’s not sure he’d be able to articulate even if he tried. Nesting tonight is gonna hit so fucking well. Namjoon is going to scent both you and Hobi until he can feel the sex and pleasure on his teeth and tongue, might just need to taste your arousal for himself. He'll be sweet about it and give you a little wiggle room just to put you back in your places. He feels half feral wanting it already. If he's not careful a scenting like that might send Hobi into rut or you into heat.

Namjoon's almost trembling at the idea of it.

God fucking damn it, he's so in love it hurts a little. He’s sure that Yoongi feels the same deep calmness, the sense of rightness, thinking about you and Hobi.

Yoongi’s lopsided grin says It finally fucking happened. Namjoon’s dimpled smile says, I know, I’m surprised we didn’t have to orchestrate it. They don’t have to say it, the soft words would be swallowed up under the music playing over the loudspeaker (the idol group that Jimin guards- their newest hit).

Their knees are nested between each other’s on the too-small table and too-small seats. Namjoon’s big palm on Yoongi’s knee all tight. His hand over the pack alphas, tangling and playing together in a way that Jin would call flirting without words and Tae might call poetic.

The pack took one car to the pizza place, Namjoon's, gathering snow outside. Probably a bad move honestly because Namjoon is on call. The surgery this morning went off without a hitch, clipping aneurysms on a middle-aged alpha usually goes off without a hitch because Namjoon is quite good at his job. If anything happens post-op Namjoon will have to leave them stranded here.

As Namjoon watches something crosses Yoongi’s face that looks a bit like confusion, his hand leaves Namjoon’s to settle on his hip. Eyebrows pulling together.

Huh? Is it the mating mark?

Their food has just arrived, cauliflower pizza for Jungkook, a messy calzone for Yoongi, and his own meat-filled slice when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Namjoon smiles seeing Hobi’s contact, and answers it. It’s you on the line when he picks up.

“Whatever you do, don’t put me on speaker. Don’t react. Just go somewhere where you won’t be overheard by anyone.” Namjoon's smile falls instantly.

Something about your tone has goosebumps rising on his arms. inexplicable, whether it's instincts or just the fact that Namjoon knows your voice and has never heard you sound like this that tips him off he's not sure.

You’re in the back of Hobi’s car, Jimin sprawled across your lap, your fingers stroking down his cheek, your other hand putting pressure on his bullet wound. Jimin lets out these little hiccupping breaths and in the front seat, Hobi’s eyes flick to the two of you. Your pause your call to soothe him, letting him inhale big settling breaths of your scent. Nose and mouth pressed hard to your wrist. Teeth biting down because Jimin needs something to muffle his pained growl.

"Just hold on Minnie, I know it hurts. We’re almost back to the house."

Namjoon hears it, and his whole body goes cold.

You can say many things about the pack, about pack alphas and pack omegas, but listening goes both ways. Namjoon would never dream of disobeying you when you talk like this. Namjoon stands and walks to the door mechanically. Only when he’s outside, cold air swirling around him, does he speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s happened," Namjoon closes his eyes "-and I need you not to tell the others. I need you to come home and leave Jungkook and Tae. Jimin's hurt and we need you.”

Namjoon feels the moment the tense breath in his chest sticks there and he realizes you’re not joking. Jungkook looks up, furrowing his eyebrows at Namjoon in the dark window. The snowflakes falling catch the lamplight around him, dotting his red sweatshirt like the reverse of blood on snow.

There’s a pause and then, “There’s a lot you don’t know, but I need you to hurry.”

Namjoon nods then pauses when he realizes you can’t see. He’s not sure he’s ever heard you sound so serious.

“Do you understand why I’m asking you this Namjoon?”

Namjoon has always been an honest alpha, even when it doesn’t stroke his ego. “No.”

“Because if Tae sees what’s happening, she’s going to need someone to comfort her, and everyone needs to be focused on mini right now.” Your voice trembles, breaking. Below you, Jimin smiles, leaning into your arm. Babbling little and delirious from pain and blood loss.

“Love you so much Tae- wanna be your mate- wanna marry you too if y/n lets me- wanna have your pups."

"Jimin. You are an alpha. You can't get pregnant." Hobi says dryly from the driver's seat, making a very careful left turn that's so slow that it garners a honk from the people behind him.

"But Tae could at least try-"

You close your eyes against the lights of the highway, and across your lap you feel wet soaking into your pant legs. You don't look down, You know it’s blood. It’s so warm, spilling across your knees like sunshine. Bubbling up with every heartbeat.

You don’t know how much more blood Jimin can lose before it’s critical, which is why you need Namjoon.

“-And if Jungkook finds out the stress could make him have a seizure.”

Namjoon is silent on the other end of the line. Completely quiet. Frozen on the sidewalk outside of the pizza place. Above him, the pastel blue pizzeria sign buzzes and flickers. Namjoon inhales the cold air, his exhale coming out warm and steamy visible. When he turns to look inside Yoongi is already staring.

Namjoon must look devastated because Yoongi shoots to his feet. Saying something to the others before he heads out after Namjoon. The bell clinging until he's right there reaching for the phone.

“I’ll see you at home.” You shut your eyes tight. “Bring Yoongi too. I need him.”

The phone in Namjoon’s hands buzzes and when he looks the call has disconnected.

~-~

It's a good thing that most of the snow has melted off or else you’d have a harder time concealing Jimin’s bleeding form as you pull into the driveway. You’re barely outside for a handful of seconds. No curtains move in the shuttered windows of your neighbors. No one is in the cul-de-sac, not even Noodle is waiting for you on the rock wall.

There is no red trail in the snow, just a few drops that land on the dark slate walkway that you’ll clean up before morning. The porch light is off and Your hand leaves a dark imprint on the railing as you rush to open the door for Jin and Hobi, supporting Jimin between the two of them.

But the door opens before you can get to it.

"Joonie!” Jimin's tone drips with false cheer, grinning at the pack alpha and your mate standing just inside the house. As Jin and hobi half drag and half carry Jimin inside and out of sight. Blood dripps down the side of his face from his temple to his chin.

“Holy fuck” your mate mutters. Out of Jin and Hobi and you- you easily have the most blood on yourself. Your pants are soaked through with it and muck from the river, even your hair feels wet and sticky. You must certainly look like a sight, like something out of a nightmare or a bad memory- yoongi can take his pick.

(In truth, the sight of you blood soaked brings up only one other night in yoongi's memory; a night just as tense and pain filled as this. the night you killed Geumjae. This won't be the last time Yoongi sees you soaked in blood either. But at least next time the blood you'll wear won't be the packs and you'll be wearing it as a king and not a pawn).

The drive must have truly taken a toll on him because the second the door closes behind you Jimin’s knees give out and his eyes roll back, passing out as the last bit of energy vanishes from his body. Hobi almost falls with him, but Namjoon and Yoongi are quick to come to his aid.

“Quick- the table.”

Yoongi clears the dining room table with a simple swipe of his hands, sending the bowl of tangerines scattering, rolling like many mini suns across the hardwood floor. They put him down as gently as they can, but Jimin's a puppet with his strings cut. Namjoon swoops in, more trained than any of you, grabbing Jimin’s ankles and holding them up above his heart.

"Come on- Minnie- come on " Namjoon reaches over to tap Jimin’s cheek, gentle once and harder the second time, more of a true slap. Jimin gasps awake, but he’s only half conscious. It’s twilight, his eyelashes fluttering face pale. Mumbling Tae's name over and over again.

"Jin, hold his legs up for me- here"

You’ve never seen Namjoon move so mechanically, so professionally. He's already wearing sterile gloves. His black doctor’s bag cracked open and full of gauze and other medical paraphernalia. The skin around the bullet wound is pinched with blood. Gushing fresh as Namjoon cuts away as much of the tourniquet as he dares with a pair of kitchen shears.

Jimin’s head lolls to the side.

Namjoon lets out a single wet noise. You haven’t heard him cry in so long, you don’t realize that’s what it is until you look at his face.

Your mate’s face is pale and gaunt as he looks at you over the dining room table. “Didn’t you tell him anything?”

“No- I wasn’t sure what to say, I-” Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to Minnie, then up at Jin who looks like he might be about to pass out himself. Holding himself away.

“Who shot him? Did someone corner you? Jin-”

Jin lifts his chin about to confess but before he can Namjoon snaps “Everyone needs to be quiet- please.”

Namjoon places his stethoscope oh so gently to jimin's skin Even the slight action makes Jimin’s face twist in pain. The whole pack is quiet and still, like statues.

The moment passes syrup slow, And Namjoon moves his stethoscope an inch to the left, then the right. Only then does he toss it down onto the floor. Grabbing a sterile towel from his medicine bag and presses it hard over the bullet wound. Closing his eyes and grimacing before he stuffs it, fingers and all into the bullet wound.

Jimin jerks violently, howling, nearly thrashing in pain if it weren’t for Namjoon and Yoongi and you holding him down. He flails, hitting you in the face knocking you back.

Hobi catches you before you fall. “I’m fine, it’s okay just- help them hold Minnie" your hand over your hot cheek. It will probably bruise- but you don't even care as you watch as Namjoon pulls himself onto the kitchen table, putting his full body weight over the bullet wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“He needs a hospital. We need to pack it and then take him there. He’s lost too much blood.”

"We can’t- all bullet wounds need to be mandated reported.”

It’s not all that large of a hole to be honest. Maybe a finger with on the back side and a little smaller at Jimin's front because Jin shot Jimin at such close range. It’s a threw and threw. Even though Namjoon packed the front his back still leaks steadily.

“But Jimin will live, whatever’s going on-” Namjoon shares a glace with Yoongi Jin, then you- and you watch as it dawns on him. “wait- You do know what’s going on, theres something you're not telling me.”

It's accusatory but you nod while Jin and Yoongi stay placid. Namjoon looks once at Jin again then at you, deciding who he trusts more to correctly gauge the odds.

Namjoon looks at you, waiting.

“If the wrong people find out Jiminie is- that he’s-” you pause, and Jimin grimaces, there is blood on his teeth, in his mouth. “It might not just be him hurt by the end of it.”

“But we can’t just let him die.”

Hobi just stands by the couch, your nest just tousled as you’d left it what feels like a lifetime ago. for the first time that night- hobi breaks.

"Oh my god Jimin's going to die-"

Jin's hands are in his hair, yanking, "Tae is going to kill me-"

“Shut up, no one is dying yet. If he dies on us I’ll kill him myself.” you scoff, holding Jimin’s wrist, his hand. “I won’t even bother with a gun I’ll just..."

You fall silent with a sudden intake of breath. Yoongi's head whips in your direction. Jin too looks up from where he was just bowed, realization lighting his eyes up bright.

The three of you share a look and for a second, the only sound is Jimin's blood dripping. A little faster with every heartbeat. Down the leg of the kitchen table onto the floor in red rivulets.

Drip drip drip.

(What you don’t know about Jin and Yoongi’s tentative agreement is that even though they know about each other- they've still been on either side of this. They’ve never worked with each other, never shared querying glances like this. It's a special secret language that thieves and secret killers share.)

Yoongi follows your line of sight to the kitchen. The knives sit sheathed in the knife block. The same ones that he bought Jin as a fancy courting present years ago. The same one's Yoongi sharpens before he cuts the meat that the pack eats for samgyeopsal and bulgogi and shabushabu.

A sharp cut is an easy cut to fix, unlike a blown-apart cavernous bullet wound.

“No.” Is your first reaction. Even though it was your idea. “It’s too dangerous.”

"It won't work." is Jin's response. Namjoon glances from you to him. He hasn't yet realized what you're talking about. doesn't posess the same finess for bloodshed that the three of you do (the three of you could conquer the world, you just haven't' realized it yet)

"It will work." Yoongi straightens. there are whispers of darkness on yoongi's face. a childhood he doesn't talk about in his eyes. a childhood filled of blood and less kindness than you'd think; for it to have made a man like yoongi; who knows how to be gentle because he's felt every kind of unplesantness there is.

"I've seen it done before. A long time ago but still- it works."

“What,” Namjoon snaps. "Are you guys fucking talking about?"

“There’s another option.” Yoongi’s hands are on Jimin, holding his wrists down. his other hand tucking his hair behind his ears and kissing his bloody cheek. His hands are getting colder and there isn’t much time. He’s quiet for a moment, lips pressed to jimin's skin, before he looks up. None of you want to say what you’re thinking.

“A good stab wound with a larger knife, through and through will disguise the bullet wound. It will stop him from bleeding any more. No one will know that Jimin was shot and we can take him to the hospital."

Namjoon’s scent is sour, sour, and acrid and it makes Jimin arch in pain, face twisted. He still doesn't understand why no one must know that Jimin was shot. Still doesn't understand that it was Jin who shot him. He'll learn later over hospital coffee but for now, he misses the blood-soaked and cut up FBI vest laying in a heap on your dining room floor. No yellow left on it- just red.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m not letting anyone stab anybody."

Jimin’s head lolls on the table. His mumbled words fall on deaf ears. “Stab away….might as well…already stabbed through the fucking heart from Tae" (how could Cupid be so cruel?)

"Joonie look at me." Your hand is on Namjoon’s arm, his shoulder, the back of his neck and he rounds on you. Alpha aggression striking before Namjoon can reign in his instincts. He almost snaps his teeth at you. You don't react at the alpha baring his teeth in your face because underneath it all is the panic of a child, a pup who's terrified he's about to lose his family (a sinking feeling in his gut that says maybe, he already has.)

You understand, you know what it's like to feel that way.

Your voice is so calm and gentle. “Namjoon- you just have to trust me. If we take Jimin to the hospital and if they have a reason to take his fingerprints. There is a very good chance Minnie will go to prison. That I will go to prison- that Yoongi will too.”

Jin blinks, eyelashes fluttering. And Namjoon is silent, Hobi's silent too. All of them watching you. Your hands are steady, and your eyes are clear. The clearest they've ever seen.

“There is a lot we haven’t told you. But you need to trust me.”

It’s then that he spots it. Yoongi’s tone is dark as he yanks the wooden mask out of Hoseok's hands. Yoongi would know those masks anywhere; the one that the family gives its employees. This specific type is to delineate a non-relative. The specific kind is the mask that killers wear.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

You look up at him, “it’s Minnie’s.”

Yoongi’s chest heaves, breath coming quick and fast. “No, it’s not- it can’t be.”

Namjoon’s teeth look particularly sharp when he snaps. “Does anyone but me give a fuck about Jimin right now? Or do you guys only want to pretend that you do?” The rest of the pack watches Namjoon as he ties a new tourniquet. A better one. he can't meet your eyes. quiet and furious as he pulls the knot tight.

“There are too many ligaments in Jimin’s arm, you could cripple him.”

“What other choice do we have?"

“So thats it?” your voice is a shred past hysterical, “we just take him to the hospital and let him go to jail, or let him bleed out and die here?”

The four of you stand over Jimin, on the kitchen table, the spot where you’ve eaten dinner and broken bread and loved each other for the last year. A place of nourishment and love now a place of pain and terror.

You walk three strides to the kitchen and grab the largest steak knife from the kitchen block. Your eyes dark and determined as you stare them down.

"I'll do it if you won't! I'm not letting Jimin go to prison!" you blink tears out of your eyes and there is a moment of silence, a moment where everyone just looks at you.

There is a warm body at your back, a strong chest and long arms that you know circling your waist to pull you back against them. Rubbing soft down your stomach as another comes up to guide your hand. long fingers that curl around your small fist. Grabbing the knife and guiding it, syrup slow out of your grasp.

"There we go" hobi says, words whisper soft.

It's like his words break the spell. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.” namjoon snaps.

Namjoon holds the knife and everyone watches as he walks to the pack's liquor cabinet. grabbing the nearest highest proof bottle that he can find and pouring it over the kitchen blade.

“If anyone’s going to do it, it should be me, because I know where Jimin’s joint is.” The pack nods, agreeing. Scattering.

You toss a rag to Jin. “Wipe the gunshot residue from your hands before we get to the hospital. Wipe Jimin’s too while you’re at it. Just in case.”

Namjoon holds the knife in the kitchen. You all have some amount of Jimin’s blood on you and he blinks from the table lucid.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, staring down at Jimin, knife in his hand. “Go outside and warm up the car. You’ll drive because you have the steadiest hands besides me.”

You and Jin and Hobi are silent, everyone just watches namjoon for a second. Yoongi hesitates, turning back in the doorway. "Do it from behind that way Jimin can say he didn't see who stabbed him."

Namjoon nods, looking down.

There is Jimin’s blood on the doorknob and the floor. You wonder who’s going to clean it up.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, and your mate starts, running out the door, leaving it open so that the cold can slip in. Namjoon’s hand tightens on the knife.

Jimin grins up at him from the table, eyelashes fluttering.

"Do it."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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~-~

Notes:

the line "A faceless god, if you’re going to take so much from him- the least you can do is give me this." is a call back to a line all the way in the beginning of the series where tae writes "the least you could have done was leave me whole" about yoongi.

the beginning feels a little drawn out but honestly i feel like it's such a traumatizing moment that it makes sense. the beginning was one of those cases that i read it so many times i can't tell if its ass or gas- so it's up for you to decide. i like the later parts of the chapter a lot better.

All things said, hobi is taking this incredibly well.

I was such a sleepy bunny editing this this morning! i'm sorry if there are more errors than usual.

ooh they fighting~ this might be a little bit of a /oh shit/ confession- but i greatly belived that the m/c would have killed jin had she thought that he was actually trying to kill jimin for being involved with the mafia like- one wrong move on his part and she might have shot him. they're gonna forget about it and nothing will change between them but god- that moment where he comes around the corner could have gone so bad if she was a little more trigger happy.

honestly i started to hate this chapter halfway through editing it, if there was ever one that i needed you to show love to its this one god 😮‍💨 i never thought i'd feel out of practice writing this sort of thing.

are the funny parts out of place? do they break up the terror too much or just the right amount?

I cannot take credit for the methodology behind how they hide jimin's bullet wound. i will confess this is copied from an episode of Elementary- ie the american version of sherlock. i tried to look it up if you could possibly conceal bullet wounds this way and didn't find anything so you're just gonna have to trust me.

#bts mafia au #bts omegaverse au #bts polyamory au #bts x reader #bts poly au #bts werewolf fic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #omega! reader #bts a/b/o au #bts a/b/o #bts gang au #bts au #bts werewolf au #bts angst bts omegaverse fic #bts hybrid fic #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #kim taehyung fic #park jimin fic #jeon jungkook fic #jjk #pjm #myg #bts fanfic

[dnalt-d2]

(Hopefully final post about the Admin Drama, but there's ONE LAST Update, since Quackity specifically streamed to address it all)

Okay wow so basically what I was thinking was 100% correct

Specifically in that Jay, the guy who made the response, did so WITHOUT approval of Quackity or the other Admins most likely, hence why it was deleted from Quackity Studios almost immediately. Dude really was scrambling there to do damage control, probably before it could reach Quackity

But reach Quackity it did

And I wanna say that he legit sounded PISSED during the part where he was talking about the Admin problems. Like he sounded really angry that it was happening, and did say that he was gonna get way more involved with the management process, saying that there's gonna be a lot of changes after this

He also said he'd personally investigate what's going on, and that he will make sure he can pay every QSMP Admin, and if he can't pay out of pocket, then he'd rather just shut down the QSMP Entirely. Because while he did know there were volunteers working for free, with a process to have them go to paid after a short time, he didn't realize the FULL process behind it, and didn't seem happy about what it seems to have entailed

And he did bring up W*lbur as well toward the end, and sounded like he might've started crying when he started on it. But he pretty much just said that he's no longer part of the QSMP now

(I really wish he hadn't had to say that last part yet, I kinda wish he was able to take the time to process it beforehand. Ultimately it needed to be said, but I wish he'd gotten to do it when he was ready to)

Either way, if everything he's saying is true, it's a good sign, that now these things will be handled appropriately. But really, only time will tell if that pans out. However it goes from here, we can at least be happy in knowing that there are people inside willing to speak up if this sort of thing happens again. Let's just hope the proper steps are taken to ensure it doesn't

#qsmp #qsmp quackity #quackity

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Replay | ateez x reader

Pairing: pirate!ateez x adventurer!reader

Genre: adventure, fantasy, time travel, poly

Warnings: mention of a panic attack, mention of a sharp object.

Word Count: 1475 words

Summary: You're given a second chance to change things. But will you go or stay?

a/n: hello hello! welcome to my first one-shot! (but not really hehe) if you're new and found my account for the first time, I hope you enjoy my stories and it's really wonderful to have you here! :) In an update a while ago, I mentioned that I currently have a plethora of story ideas that I would love to develop into a full-length series one day, but for now, in order to not overwhelm myself, I will be posting these stories as one-shots/imagines so that I can share it with all of you and come back to it later on! This is my first one inspired by Marry My Husband and set in a world like the Choices' game Blades of Light and Shadow! Let me know what you think and happy reading! <3

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You're standing at the plank, back against the sea, tears streaming down your face. You refuse to look up at your lovers. There's a rollercoaster of emotions going on inside you, ranging from pain, hurt and betrayal to anger. 

They chose her over you, believed her melodious and cunning lies, and expect you to apologize to her. You're not looking up but from under your eyes, you can see her figure cozying up next to Wooyoung's. He's telling her not to cry, wiping away those crocodile tears in contrast to your real ones. 

Raw rage is slowly thrumming through your veins and resentment is coiling in your stomach as a vortex of anger gradually swirls inside. You've had enough honestly and you were no longer going to bend to anyone.

"Just apologize Y/N." Hongjoong remarks in a cold and distant voice.

His sword is right in front of you, barring you from getting off the plank.

"For what?" you respond icily,  "I've done nothing wrong."

Hongjoong grumbles under his breath and another person steps in, you recognize its Seonghwa by his boots.

"Please Y/N, don't be childish. Aera is younger than you, she needs us to look after her. You can't get jealous so easily."

Jealous. Such a funny word coming out of your lover's mouth. It's hypocritical rather, because your eight lovers lose it over the slightest glance someone casts in your direction.

You find it ridiculous.

The girl weasled her way onto the ship, and you had a bad feeling about it since day one. But you didn't think it would come to this. 

Love. That's all you ever wanted, and you found it in these eight men, who you had been with since the age of 16. They loved you more than anything, at least, that's what they said.

The only thing you want more than anything right now is to go back and choose differently. 

"I—" you declare, "I hope in my next life, true love finds me."

"Y/N what—" Yunho begins but you cut him off.

"I hope I meet someone who truly loves me and I hope it isn't any of you." 

You raise your head and look at Hongjoong directly in his eyes. He's taken aback at that cold and empty look in yours. He can see the wheels turning in your head but he’s not sure what you’re planning.

"Traitor." You verbalize before running into his sword.

"NO!" All eight voices ring out.

Shouts and screams erupt from all eight men as your blood begins to stain Hongjoong’s sword.

"Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Hongjoong screams.

You pull away and stumble backward towards the edge. San tries to reach for you but you pull your hand away and fall into the sea.

You're thinking this is where your story ends but actually dear one, this is only the beginning.

-

You startle out of your trance. You're in the fortune teller's shop. Blinking around haphazardly, you try to zero-in on your surroundings. Memories flood into your mind as you recognize where you are. This is the shop you visited when you were in the town of Maverick - it would be a month before everything happens.

You're dumbstruck by what just happened. Just moments ago, you were on the plank, ran yourself into Hongjoong’s sword and fell into the cold raging sea. Now, sitting in front of you, the elderly tarot reader draws some cards and gives you a reading.

"You're in for a big change dearie. I see the wheel of fortune is in your favour but be warned, the justice card reversed suggests there is dishonesty somewhere. "

“And this one?” you ask, pointing to the death card.

“In its upright position, it reveals that beginnings and change is expected. You’re nearing the end of a cycle.”

You don't ask for a further explanation, you pay and leave, walking back to the tavern where the boys are currently in. But as you walk out the shop's door, it begins to rain.

No...

Immediately, memories rush into your mind as you recall the timeline of events. It will rain and then the dam that's near the town will break, unleashing a flood. Aera is already with you all, the boys bringing her back home to her father after she got herself caught up with some misfits. But when the flood hits, everyone will scamper and she will come back with you all, joining the crew and then ruining everything you had with the boys.

Reaching the tavern, you watch from outside: all the boys are sitting around a table while Aera's father brings another round of drinks, and says something to Hongjoong. Aera stands at the far back of the room but you can tell there is something on her mind, that dubious and suspicious glint in her eyes. Her father walks back, she asks him something and then he scolds her before walking away. She balls her fists but then regains her composure before hopping over to your boys.

Previously, none of this had happened, as far as you remembered. After visiting the tarot reader, you waltzed into the tavern, pecked San and Jongho on the cheeks before placing yourself next to Yeosang who drew you closer to sit on his lap, his arm around you bringing you in closer. Aera did not come and sit with you all.

This time you hesitate entering the tavern, wondering if wandering around, accidentally getting lost or going the other way would be better. 

Love. That's all you ever wanted and you thought it would be with these eight boys. Now, you weren't so sure.

Little did you know, this moment of hesitation will change the course of your life. As you continue to think about your next course of action, a figure runs into you, bringing you down with him.

"What the—" Before you can even question, the figure jolts up, ready to run again. But you're quick on your feet too, and you grab the person by their wrist.

"Now wait a minute Mister," you begin but you're cut off by shrill shouts.

"There he is! Get him!"

You turn to the voices but before you can look at the person, he grabs your hand and pulls you with him. 

You have no idea why you're even running with him. You're strong enough to break free and go your merry way but as you study his back, you're intrigued — this black hair guy has a pretty feathered twist in his hair and silver dangle earrings. Something about him entices you.

He leads you down an alleyway, over a wall and then into an open field. The next thing you knew, you are on top of a hill that overlooks the town. He brings you behind a tree and you rest against the bark, trying to regulate your breath. The stranger crouches down attempting to do the same.

"You're insane." You remark.

"Yeah well, you were slowing me down so I had to bring you with me if I wanted to get away."

He doesn’t seem dangerous but rather, very amiable. The rain has stopped and there is only a slight drizzle, but from on top of the hill, you can see the dam that’s about to burst.

"No...the dam..." you mutter in-between breaths.

The stranger turns to the dam’s direction and his eyes widen. The dam erupts and rains down like a waterfall. You watch in fear and fright at the sight and your mind races to the boys, but deep down you know that they'll escape. 

But this time, you're not with them. You're with this stranger, now apart from them. 

"Hey are you okay?"

There's a wave of emotions and you feel yourself spiralling into panic. Your heart pounds in your chest and a familiar grip of fear tightens your chest, each breath of yours shallower than the last. Suddenly, the stranger holds you gently, looking at you with a reassuring calmness.

"Hey, don’t look there, look at me okay? Deep breaths, you can do it, take your time and follow me."

You do as you're told, the stranger running soothing circles on your forearms provides a sense of comfort and relief, and after a few minutes you finally compose yourself, staring out at the now submerged town. It's heartbreaking. 

"Where are you going to go?" he asks.

"I don't know." You answer.

The stranger hums and thinks for a minute before getting up and stretching out his hand for yours.

"Let's get going together then."

You're taken aback by his boldness but fascinated and captivated at the same time.

"I don't even know your name." you voice out.

He helps you up and gives you a polite smile, one that is soft and heartfelt.

"Yoonghoon. My name is Kim Yoonghoon."

#ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #poly!ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez series

[dodgebolts]

Can Dream keep his status as the undisputed king of Parkour Warrior?

As promised, with Dream's newfound vigor for beating the Parkour Warrior record, an updated analysis of his best possible time given the splits shown on his most recent (11/3/23) stream!

With new course run optimizations courtesy of fruitberries and SandwichLord, Dream has improved on his previous time massively, cutting his optimized best time down nearly 30 seconds from the last time I did this. In fact, though he posited it may be possible to get a 4:20.00 last year, he's absolutely blown that prediction (and the optimized time in my previous analysis) out of the water this fall. If he manages to match this optimized time, he'll be cutting down another 22.49 seconds from his current time, which is not only an insane merit on his own, but also more than 4 seconds under the time that SandwichLord has put forward as the world record.

More details under the cut!

For those curious, this is the side-by-side, as well as the differences from the last analysis I did (from his May 29, 2022 stream) to this most recent one!

As we can see, he's improved, even if slightly, on every single level of the course. Additionally, it's an interesting trend to see that he's made the most progress/cuts on the latter half of the course, most dramatically level 5-3, The Wall Clinger, where he cut on ladder climbing time, as well as level 8-2, The Chain Pipes.

Also of note are the improvements in time on 5-1 (The Fish Bones) and 6-3 (The Bending Barrys), both sections where Dream has identified massive time sinks in the past!

As a note: the change in "One-Run Bests" just means the difference between his previous long-standing best time and the record he just set this evening.

And for those who are really interested in the raw data, here is a screenshot of the raw data taken straight from his stream and processed minimally :)

#might post this on the reddit when I'm not literally dead on my feet from lack of sleep KJDHFLSDKJHG #but !! hope this is interesting :D #ok I eep. gn #lyss analyzes #lyss.dream

[heartbreakgrill]

stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 9- “killing me slow, out the window. i’m always waiting for you just to cut to the bone.”

a/n: EEEK! one more after this cuz i’m a lying liar and can’t stop writing.

stiles leaned his chin against his fist, staring out the window of the second floor room in the hospital. outside, the sun was setting. the rain poured down in a thick stream, bouncing off the pavement. lightening crashed through the sky every so often, and more than once, the lights had flickered. stiles was on the edge of his seat, anxious. he hoped this was just a storm, not anything deeper than that.

down below, the parking lot was sparse of people. cars pulled in and out while the time dragged by. but, it was an unusually quiet night for beacon hills memorial hospital. outside of y/n’s room, stiles ears were only occasionally prickled by the sound of shoes squeaking against the linoleum floors. the stillness made him nervous.

stiles took another deep sigh. his chest lifted with the effort, falling as he let the air out of his nose. his eyes followed a car as it rolled into the parking lot. then, bored of the sight, and restless in his nature, stiles’ turned his knees back towards the hospital bed behind him. his gaze rolled over y/n, who was still just laying there. she was blacked out and a breathing mask sat overtop her face. an iv drop was attached to her left hand. a thin, scratchy hospital-issued blanket was tugged up to her chin, but overtop, stiles had lay his hoodie on her. he’d wanted to run over to her house, grab a blanket, a pillow from her room. but, he didn’t want to leave her sound.

stiles leaned forward, rested his elbows on the edge of the bed, and picked y/n’s hand up off of her stomach. he’d shifted between this exact position, staring out that window, and pacing the room so many times in the last 24 hours. he didnt know what else to do with himself. the nurse on duty kept assuring him that y/n would wake up, at any time. that y/n would be alright, so long as she woke up tonight. it didn’t necessarily mean y/n would be dying- but, that’s when they should all be concerned.

as if stiles didn’t have enough to worry about.

after all, his dad was missing. still. and they had no new leads.

scott had headed to derek’s loft, to warn him about jennifer. that was just a few hours ago. he hasn’t received any updates on the situation. and this storm was intensifying his anxieties.

then, stiles also wasn’t sure where anyone else was- but he just hoped that they were out looking for answers. no one was responding to his text messages.

he wanted to be out there, helping, but when scott had offered him to come to derek’s loft- stiles said no. stiles didn’t want to leave y/n alone. besides, he was paralyzed by the situation. he already lacked any physical enhancements that would offer up any sort of help to the situation. and, now, he was mentally unstable, as well. he couldn’t stopped crying, couldn’t stop his breath from quickening every few minutes. it was taking all of his energy to not crawl up into himself and panic until he wasted away.

the girl he loved was nearly in a coma, and his dad was missing. the

if only she were awake…she would say something, anything, that would help him. she would remind him of his strength and perseverance. she would hug him, kiss his cheek, and make him feel, for just a minute, that the world was simple. that he could get his dad back.

right now, he felt so hopeless.

the only thing that kept him going was the hope of her opening her eyes, squeezing back his hand. it pushed him forth.

it helped, too, that no one else had been taken, quite yet. once they were, once two more guardians were reported missing- that’s when stiles knew his dad was going to die.

stiles brushed his thumb across her knuckles, a pattern he found some grounding root in, and sniffled. he pressed their joined hands to his forehead and leaned his head down. holding back a sob, stiles stuttered out, “i don’t know what to do.”

as if a prayer was being answered, he felt y/n’s fingers twitch between his own. he quickly lifted his head, snapping his gaze to her struggling face.

y/n squinted her eyelids, her vision blurry as she tried to pry open her sight. the fluorescent lights burned her tired, weary eyes, only making her struggle more. it took her more than a moment to adjust, but when she did, she had to process a lot of information. first, her gaze latched to her body- the hospital gown and blankets were itchy against her skin, and she could feel the iv digging at her skin. the breathing mask was restrictive over her face, but the air pumped into her lungs felt so fresh. mostly, what she felt was pain- her legs hurt, her ribs ached, and her head was pounding.

she slowly regained control throughout her body. it was that buzzing feeling one normally got after this leg fell asleep- staticky and nerve-prickling. eventually, her fingers twitched, her toes wiggled, and she was able to take in stiles. he perked up as her eyes fell onto his, immediately jumping from his chair. he never let go of her hand, even as stiles found the nurse’s call button and pressed it rapidly. he leaned his torso over her.

“oh, my god,” he breathed out, gratefully. more tears streamed down his face, but he didn’t care. stiles set a hand to her cool cheek, touch finalizing the fact that she was really conscious again. “you’re awake! thank god- you’re awake, baby.”

y/n wanted to say something, but her throat was scratchy from having not spoken for a day. there was, also, a mask prisoning her mouth. a small cough forced it’s way from her throat. stiles carefully pulled it from her face. y/n lay her hand over his, helping him move it. it left a red, dented mark over either of her cheeks. they slid their fingers into one another’s.

“wha-“ she coughed slightly, clearing her throat, “what happened?” short, fading clips rolled over her working memory, like filing cabinets rattling around, shutting and closing to quickly for her to grab onto anything.

stiles lay a hand on her face, unable to focus on her words, “i’m so fucking happy you’re awake.”

“stiles,” she furrowed her brows, “what happened?”

stiles was going to explain everything to her, though he was afraid. he was sure she didn’t remember of anything, especially everything he had told her before they went to the school. so, having to explain it all to her again, especially now that she had been nearly killed by the very thing stiles warned her of- would she reject him? would she want nothing to do with not only that part of his life, but him, too?

stiles didn’t know if he’d survived losing his dad and her all within the same day. he needed her.

just as he opened his lips, hesitant words waiting on his tongue, the nurse was rushing into the room. stiles couldn’t remember her name.

she looked more than concerned, clutching her stethoscope around her neck with white knuckles. when she saw y/n, eyes wide open, breathing mask in her hand, she flinched slightly.

she went to say something, too, but lightening cracked overtop of the hospital. it was loud, louder than the storm had been moments ago. and it sounded like the wind was crashing against the hospital in thick, tormenting waves.

“good thing you’re awake,” her breathy words fell into the air, a slight, nervous humor in her tone.

then, another lightening strike crashed, and the lights in the hospital blacked out. y/n instantly grabbed at stiles’ wrist, tight, and he slipped his fingers into her. y/n’s body was shaking.

“what’s happening?” stiles demanded.

the backup generator powered on. the lights were dimmer than before, and an alarm began blasting throughout the building. a warning. y/n flinched, again, at the sound, squinting her eyes shut and tilting her head away from the noise. her forehead banged against her skull.

“we have to go! they’re evacuating the hospital because of the storm. there’s an ambulance leaving in ten minutes, and another in twenty. we need to get you on one of them,” the nurse quickly shot to y/n’s bedside. she took the breathing mask from her hands and began moving the iv stand about. “do you think you can walk?”

y/n glanced at stiles, her pupils wide with fear. she shook her head, “i don’t know!”

“it’s okay,” stiles nodded once. he managed to keep his tone steady, reaching out to help her off the bed, “it’s okay. here.”

the nurse met stiles on his side of the bed. she carefully set y/n’s legs off the side of the bed, her feet barely touching the cold floor. then, y/n’s nurse quickly slipped the young girl’s pants up her legs, a pair of hospital socks on her feet. y/n gripped either of their hands as they helped her stand, their support also pressing onto her elbows. she hissed as she stood up, bunched over from the pain. her chin dropped into her chest. stiles securely held onto her waist, her hand squeezing tightly into his other.

“hold onto this,” the nurse wheeled y/n’s iv stand over to stiles. he hesitated, unsure of how he was going to manage that.

but, he wrapped a fist around it. as soon as he had he did, the nurse bolted out of the room to help other patients. stiles stared after her, jaw slack, and a little more than pissed off at her lack of beside manners. “ok, wow. um- okay, baby, okay…we’ve gotta go, okay?”

y/n looked up at him with a pained expression. tears streaked down her face, “stiles…i don’t-“

her knees gave out on her. y/n nearly collapsed to the ground, but stiles grabbed onto her waist. he felt her entire body shaking beneath his touch, both from the pain coursing throughout her injuries and her fear.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! hey, here.”

stiles carefully pulled the iv from the needle in her hand, then looped her arms over his shoulders. “please, baby, hold on to me, okay?”

he felt y/n nod against his chest, weakly. her hold tightened onto his neck. stiles crouched down an inch more so he could get his hands under her knees. he picked her up in his arms, more than surprised by his own strength. the machines beeped, wildly, as they lost connection to her body. but, that was just background noise. outside, he could hear dozens of people rushing past, the alarm still blaring.

stiles kicked the door to her room open, pausing as those people rushed past him, down the hallway, towards the elevators. the lights flickered again and everyone yelped in fear. stiles glanced down as he felt y/n’s hair tickle his neck, her head lolled into the corner of his shoulder. her eyes were squeezed shut, teeth ground together as she tried not to scream.

“okay, here we go, baby,” stiles pushed them into the stream of people headed for any and all of the exits.

patients, nurses, and doctors moved against him, bumping y/n’s legs every so often, offering no help to the situation. he cursed every time they hit y/n and stiles, because she hissed in pain as they bumped her injuries. stiles kept glancing down at her to try to ensure she was okay, so he nearly tripped over his own feet, numerous times. but, somehow, he managed to keep going.

just as they reached the elevators, the doors popped open, and stiles was met with the sight of derek, scott, and jennifer. anger coursed through stiles veins, and his eyes darkened. he clenched his jaw as he took a step back. why was she here, with them? why had they brought her here? stiles just knew this storm was because of her.

y/n rustled in his arms as she tried to lift her head. she felt herself drifting in and out of consciousness. though she couldn’t really focus on anything happening- the lightening rattling the building, the chaos unfolding before them, the woman who nearly killed her standing the elevator- she could hear stiles’ heartbeat pounding against her ear. her fading consciousness was taken back to his jeep, his bare chest beneath her touch, his finger brushing patterns into her skin.

she heard his heartbeat quicken, his blood pumping angrily. she wanted to comfort him, remind him that it would be all be okay. they’d make it out. she’d live.

so, y/n wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, tangling them into his hair. goosebumps rose beneath her touch. stiles felt his anger ease up as he focused onto her cold fingertips.

as a cooling breath fell between stiles’ lips, scott quickly ushered him into the elevator. the doors closed behind stiles’ back. and scott breaks the news to him, “the alpha pack is here. in the hospital.”

stiles shoots daggers at miss morrell, who is trying to avoid his gaze. if y/n wasn’t here, in his arms, he’d jennifer up against the wall, hand around her throat. he didn’t hear scott at first, not until his friend touches his shoulder. he meets scott’s eyes, “…they’re here? in the hospital? why? why are they here?”

“yeah,” scott nodded shortly, “but, that’s not the worst part. cora- she’s dying. but, jennifer says there’s something she can do to help. that’s why we brought her-“

“and we’re gonna trust her?” stiles’ voice rose, slightly, as he swung around to face the enemy. as he did, y/n groaned in pain. he was aware of himself, her in his arms, again, and quickly looked to see if she was okay.

scott could smell the fear and pain oozing off of y/n’s crumpled body. he set a hand on y/n’s knee, guiding stiles back to his side of the elevator, “here, stiles. i can help her.”

stiles met scott’s eye. he didn’t hesitate to nod, once, encouraging scott to take away her struggle, to allow her just a few moments of peace. the veins of scott’s hand then turned black, as the pain coursed from y/n’s body, into his own. stiles watched her face, brows lifting in hope as he watched the painful expression on her face fall. she relaxed back into his arms, the trembling of her body ceasing just a bit.

“there,” scott patted stiles’ shoulder. “that should help. but, you need to get her out of here. i don’t know what will happen if she gets stuck between us and the alpha pack.

“i know,” stiles lips trembled as pressed a kiss to her forehead. a tear escaped his head. then, he twisted his head towards jennifer. she finally met his eye, looking just a little uncomfortable. stiles frowned, “i know, scott. but- where’s my dad? where the fuck is my dad? does she have him still?”

jennifer went to respond, a cocky look in her eyes. but, the doors to the elevators opened, again. they had arrived to whatever floor scott had pressed the button for. stiles assumed it was where cora’s room was. scott stepped forward, bracing the situation with a hand atop the door so it could not close. it was relatively quiet on this floor, aside from the flickering lights, the blaring alarm, and the scattered patient’s charts across the floor. after their hesitation to gauge the situation, derek rushed towards cora’s room.

stiles didn’t really pay attention as scott and derek investigated. he kept a watchful eye on jennifer, gently brushing y/n’s hair from her forehead with a shaky hand. it was grounding, it helped him focus. jennifer met his gaze, again, a coy smile curling into her lips.

she narrowed her eyes and glanced down to y/n, “poor girl. how many broken ribs does she have? is she concussed, or no? what’s the state of our patient, mr. stilinksi?”

stiles licked his lips as his jaw rolled in frustration. his voice was low, “after you help us find my dad, i am going to kill you-“

“have her symptoms set in yet?” jennifer took a daring step forward, interrupting him.

stiles’ brows furrowed, just slightly, “wha-what? what other symptoms?”

y/n coughed, a movement that racked her entire body. jennifer flicked her brows up, as if she had been anticipating this. stiles glanced down at y/n, and noticed some black liquid lining her lips. she coughed, again, face scrunched in pain. a small trial of what stiles could only assume was black blood trickled down her chin.

stiles’ breathing hastened and he looked back up at jennifer, “what did you do to her? what the fuck did you do to her? you-you fix it! right now! fix her, or i’m going to tear every limb from your body!”

jennifer chuckled, “your threats don’t scare me, stiles. after all, you’re just a human. you’re nothing compared to scott. you don’t have claws or fangs.”

as jennifer spoke, she circled around stiles, forcing him to take small steps backwards, away from her threatening presence. he looked to scott and derek, who were fighting for their lives. he was on his own.

“you just have your annoying sense of humor, your inability to ever stop speaking. and, now,” she gestured at y/n with an amused expression, “a dying girlfriend.”

stiles sneaker skidded against the linoleum floor as he backed up out of the elevator. he looked down at his feet to keep his trembling balance. and, when he looked back up, the doors of the elevator were slowing closely. jennifer was getting away.

“good luck!” she waved slyly.

behind him, scott, derek, and the twins continued fighting. their mangled roars were evident, now, as stiles’ focused shifted from jennifer to their chaos. he glanced down at y/n, heart thumping wildly, now. the black blood was coating her chin, bubbling between her lips. but, she was still passed out.

stiles could no longer manage his anger. it was coursing through his veins, white, hot. he felt like he would explode.

so, stiles carefully set y/n on an abandoned hospital bed that was pushed up against the wall. he tried to roll her into what had been cora’s room, just to get her out of the way, so he could focus his anger towards something useful. but before he could, ethan and aiden threw a piece of fallen ceiling towards them. stiles barely managed to dodge out of the way before another piece followed the other. he came back onto his feet, quickly, rushing to y/n’s side. he used every ounce of strength to push y/n’s bed inside the room. his sneakers squealed against the floor. then, stiles heard a roar, and he looked up again, just in time.

the anger was heating up his reddened face, now. he searched for a weapon in the hallway, something to not only defend himself with, but something to fight back.

ethan and aiden were running towards him. stiles cursed under his breath as they neared. he found a pipe, ripped from the wall, on the floor by his feet. stiles gripped it in his fists and, with the strength only ever garnered by a boy protecting someone he loved, stiles hit the werewolves over their stupid, conjoined head.

they were sent, toppling, down the hallway. scott and derek rounded the mound of mangled skin and bone, glancing between it and stiles with an astounded shock.

“nice going,” scott held out a fist for stiles’ to pound with his own. instead, his friend pushed it away, slowly.

stiles looked up at scott with a crinkled expression, tears welling up in his eyes, “she’s dying, scott.”

–

the world came crashing down around stiles. he didn’t know what to do.

scott abandoned his friend, running off with deucalion to try to get answers to solve their problems. he instructed stiles to get y/n to dr. deaton- but he wasn’t going to help. stiles tried not to focus on his frustration that came from scott’s willingness to leave him, alone, with a dying girl- and not just any girl, but stiles’ girl.

so, stiles focused his energy on quickly awakening derek, hoping he would help get her to the animal clinic. he knew he would run into troubles, and he needed a werewolf on his side. after all, jennifer was right. he was just a human. he didn’t have any powers.

but, derek simply scooped up cora, and prepared to leave the hospital.

stiles stood in the door of the elevator blocking it as derek pressed a button. he demanded derek to help him. “derek!” stiles begged, voice less assertive, but more so just weak, “please! you have to help me! she-she’s dying! you have to help me!”

“i have to help my family first,” derek set cora against the wall of the elevator. he stepped forward, a hand raised in a move to shove stiles out of the way.

but, instead, stiles gripped at derek’s hand, a weary, bargaining look in his eyes, “you know i would help you! derek- you know i’d help. we can take them both there-! cmon, derek. pls-please?”

derek hesitated as stiles’ tone cracked. it seemed like he might, maybe, help stiles. his hesitation gave stiles a glimmer of hope. but, then, derek glanced over at cora, at the black blood pouring out of every crevice of her body. he ripped his hand from stiles touch, “i can’t.”

he refused to meet stiles’ sad eyes as he backed up into the elevator. stiles was frozen. derek thought he would have to shove the boy from the elevator, but, after a second, stiles took his own step back. his body was slack, still.

he was alone.

just as the doors began to close, derek finally met the burning gaze coming from stiles’ dark eyes. “you know i’d help you, derek.”

derek’s head dipped low.

tears streamed down stiles cheeks, a silent cry that took up every ounce of energy he had left. stiles watched the elevator close, secure and tight, hands slack at his sides. all of a sudden, a scream rose from his throat. stiles kicked at the stupid metal box, hard, yelling loudly.

a sob racked through his body as he turned back to y/n. stiles ripped his hands through his hair, kicking ripped pipes, pieces of ceiling, skidding them across the floor.

stiles came to slouch on the edge of her bed. he wanted to just lay at her side, content to suffocate within her shadow. he didn’t even know where to begin. he didn’t know how to get her out of here, to the animal clinic.

the police were here. the storm had blocked off several roads. jennifer was running loose again. the alpha pack was still on the prowl. stiles’ dad was missing.

and y/n was dying.

he at least knew the end goal, which was better than nothing- get her to the animal clinic. but, he had so many obstacles in his way. so many obstacles that required supernatural abilities he just did not have.

stiles slowly turned his head to y/n, shoulders dropped, head hung low. he brushed his finger across her temple. he smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “i’m so sorry,” he lips blubbered.

stiles felt like he had failed her. no- he knew he had failed her. because he had. “i’m so sorry, baby.” stiles crouched over her body, his head in the crook of her still neck, sobbing like a baby.

he’d gotten her caught up into this mess with his stupid lies and manipulation, when he could have just told her the truth. all of this could have been avoided. but, now; she was on her death bed. and it was all his fault.

he had killed her.

stiles stared at her for a while, maybe just a few minutes, admiring her peaceful beauty. he ran his fingers over her cheeks. he’d been in this position so many times before. but never like this. his chest, though filled with fear, mourning, made some room for the love he felt for her. because he did- he loved her. he loved her so much.

his mind raced, as he wondered when it was that he finally realized he loved her.

had it been the time she met his dad? when she sat with them after her shift and ate dinner? when she spoke of her dream for after high school, when she shared the most intimate details of her hopes? he remembered how much his heart had swelled as she talked. she was so smart, so intelligent and creative. he knew she had a bright, hopefully future outside of this stupid town.

or had it been the week earlier, when he had gone to her house for just a hook up. they watched a movie, some stupid, pointless movie that he talked through the majority. he kept looking over at her as she giggled, face lit dimly by the television. his chest constructed each time she laughed. everyone always thought his jokes were dumb, but she- she laughed.

then, they had sex, and stiles felt her in his bones. he felt her fingers like they were apart of his own hand and he felt her breath strung against his rib cage. she was becoming his, and he was becoming hers. they were each other’s, a rare but beautiful, promising thing. in this world, in this town- it was everything.

maybe that was it. maybe that was the moment he knew. when he realized she was everything to him.

stiles lifted his head, an energy pulsing through his bloodstream. maybe he didn’t have supernatural abilities. maybe the road ahead seemed impossible. and maybe, just maybe, he’d die at her side- but he would only die trying. for her. always for her. everything for her.

anything.

he knew, now, that he could do this, even if he had to go it alone. but, he wasn’t going to have to.

stiles lifted y/n, carefully, in his arms, again. her head hung over his arm, arm strewn towards the ground. stiles knew she was fading fast. he had to go- now.

but, then, the elevator bell dinged.

stiles looked towards the sound. a small ounce of fear itched at his brain. he didn’t know what was awaiting them on the other side of the doors.

then, they opened- and he breathed a sigh of relief.

allison, danny, and isaac stepped into the hallway, determined looks on their faces. danny drug his eyes from stiles, down to y/n. he took a deep, nervous breath, before met stiles’ tearful gaze, again.

“well,” danny spoke, a little fearful, but confident in his tone, “are we gonna save my best friend, or what?”

stiles nodded, once, “yes, we are. i have to tell her. i need her to know that i love her.”

#derek x stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x lydia #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader

[vinetae]

Sleepless Hours - JJK

summary: sharing a bed wasn't the easiest thing for Jungkook. Especially when it's sleeping next to Namjoon's friend... AKA, his crush..

Genre: Fluff, Smut, comedy, F2L, Only one bed trope

Warnings: cute talks and cuddles. More cuddles. Jimin's a cockblock. Mentions of Jungkook's dick once- no. Twice. Dummies in love, late night talks and cuddles.

A/n: Smut update because someone tagged this sad excuse for a oneshot in their masterlist recs. Actually I took the banner pic lol. So aestheticccc. Maybe I wrote a whole fanfic just for the purpose of sharing this pic

Maybe I didn't. You'll never know.

----

Your hand pushes down onto the hotel's door, sliding the keyboard back to Jungkook's hand once he sets all the bags down. You chuckle, as Jimin shuts the door behind you three.

"You know, I could've carried my own stuff, Kook." He smiles, shaking his head. "Nah, nah. I needed the workout."

Your eyes roll, as you begin to unpack you things. Namjoon had invited you to the LA tour with him, not knowing that girlfriend had been wanting to go too. So, Jungkook ended up buying you an extra ticket, ironically sat right beside him. And when you had to figure out sleeping arrangements, Jungkook kept you tight and close. Suggesting that you could bunk with him and Jimin in their hotel room for the trip since Namjoon's girlfriend had been wanting some.. alone time with her spouse. *So to say*..

You reach up to pop your back, groaning from exhaustion. "So," you shake your head, along with your body to rid itself of the sleepiness. "Who's sleeping where?"

They both share a similar look, eyebrows raising. Jungkook speaks up. "Oh.. we didn't really think about that.."

Your arms cross playfully, slinging your clean clothes across your arm, planning on heading into the shower once their Vlive starts. The walls had been pretty thick, so you're almost positive the fans wouldn't be able to hear water running. If they had, jimin said he could say that Hobi's shower hadn't been working and just decided to crash with them for the night.

Jungkook takes a glance around the room, watching as you're quick to pull out the sofa bed in one go. You straighten up, dusting your hands off as if they had been dirty. "What?" You ask, head tilting at his surprised look.

He shakes his head. "Nothing it's just.."

Jimin cuts in, popping a small French fry into his mouth. "He thinks it's hot."

Your lips curve into a smile, shrugging. "Well it's winter right now but.. it might get a little hot later if we leave the A/C off." Jungkook chuckles at your overlook of his Hyung's comment, grabbing the phone to start and order some food.

Jimin rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath at your obvious miss of his hint.

—-

Jungkook thanking the man, before letting you know it had been safe to come out of hiding from the barn-doored bathroom. He sets the delivery bags down, locking the door behind himself.

"Oh uhm- Y/n if you can go ahead and eat that'd be great." He comments, while Jimin's already on the floor, using the little move-able foot stool as a table.

You nod, grabbing some of your things to eat at the table alone while the two boys had set everything for the live.

They sure did love their fans, you thought. A smile tugging your lips as you begin to dig in.

—-

Your hands come to reach upwards, removing the last bit of clothing before stepping into the fogged up shower. It had been one of the luxurious showers you'd have ever taken. A gold nob and handles on the side, with stone marble tiles and flooring. LED lights rimmed the crystal clear reflection in the mirror, making it seem as if it had almost been a portal of some sort.

Yeah, a portal to richness.

Once you heard the two boys bidding a farewell to the stream, you walk out of the bathroom sporting a button up loose flannel, with some knee cut shorts. Jungkook's head turns from the side to admire your attire.

"Wow.."

You chuckle silently, taking a seat over by the table as to not cause any disturbance.

Too late.

Jungkook's cock was now harder than learning English. His eyes followed up the trails and dips of your thighs, before settling on the sculpture of your entire shown frame. Anything he could see, he basked in. Anything of yours, he practically wished he could have between his lips.

It wasn't until Jimin had to stab at his leg under the table non-chalantly, acting as if he'd been trying to read the comments that had been speeding by. Jungkook flinches, eyes trying to focus on what had been on hand here. His hand comes to reach for a pillow, using it to lean on for the live. When in actuality, it had been concealing how much he really liked you.

—-

You sigh, flopping to the back of the couch, as the two boys stayed flat on the floor, continuing to eat the rest of their delivered rice and Jajangmyeon noodles. Jungkook sat between the space just in front of your legs… on accident.

Or so he had claimed.

When in reality, he'd been using the sneakiest tactics to try and slowly lean further and further against your thighs without you noticing.

You had. Obviously.

Your mouth gaps, letting a large yawn escape. Eyes lulling shut, playing a mental game of 'sleep no sleep'. You lay back onto the pull out sofa bed, snuggling into the comfort of it's cozy sheet set. Once the two had been done eating their meals, they started to clean up. Careful as to not disturb your half asleep figure. Jimin leans close to jungkook while washing the beer Glas he'd been drinking from during dinner.

"So, you sleeping there with her?" Jungkook nods, setting one more glass into the sink for his Hyung to wash. Jimin's eyes glance towards your sleepy self, chuckling.

"Do I need to go ask if I can sleep with Hoseok?" Jungkook's cheeks redden, shrugging.

"No no, I'm kidding. No, you can stay, Hyung. I'm really tired anyways." Jimin's eyebrow quirks, not truly believing his younger brother-figure, but is too exhausted from the long flight to even care at this point.

Once Jimin's done with the dishes, he makes his way towards the king suite bedroom, shutting the door behind himself.

Jungkook turns to the side, startled by your sat up and perked figure.

"Hey." You shyly comment, as he's making his way towards the bed, fixing some of the sheets.

"Hey" he mirrors, before making his way to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he returns, prepped and ready for a goodnight sleep. Well.. what he thought he'd have a good night sleep in.

Turns out, you're a huge bed hog. Twisting over to the opposite side, snatching away 92% of his comforter. He rolls to your side, gently leaning over your body to shake you awake.

"Y/n.." he softly calls out.

"Y/n.." a little louder.

Then,

"Y/N! He yelps, sighing in frustration from your lack of response.

Alright then. You were a heavy sleeper as well.

His hand comes to lightly graze your shoulder, trying once more to calmly wake you. Your body rolls onto it's back, as your begin to let out little snores.

Cute, Jungkook thought.

He tugs the blanket a bit more, trying to get comfortable on his back, letting out a relaxed sigh.

Until an arm hits him in the face.

Sitting up, he's quick to assess the room, chuckling from seeing that it had been your arm. Not some crazy fan trying to kidnap him.

He lays back down once again, shuffling with the paper-like sheets before finally finding a comfortable position. As his eyes are finally being able to drift to dreamland, a figure wraps itself around his midsection. Legs tangling up in his, on their own. His eyes peep open, head turning to the side to smile at your cute position. Face nuzzle into his side, digging its way to move his arm up and around you.

Yet, you had still remained completely unconscious.

"Jeez, Y/n.. you could sleep through a zombie apocalypse, huh?" He chuckles.

You nod, "mhm".

His eyes widen, lowering his head to sleep that you'd been completely awake and aware now. Eyes drawing into his, as your arms come around to pull him your body closer.

Ohhh shit.

There goes his dick again.

"I-I.. didn't know you were awake.." Your lips tug into smile, lifting your head to rest it on the crease of his shoulder. Eyes doe-like and wide, gazing into his own.

The world seemed to stand still. Not a sound was to made. A breath to be exhaled. As if it has just been you and hi-

"Jungkook I asked if I was needing to go sleep with Hobi tonight.." Jimin chuckles, throwing a pillow to your side of the bed. Before you know it, you're squished between the two very differentiating men. Jungkook's arm wrapped around your body to keep your close to him, as Jimin laid to the side of you, turned to face the brightly lit window's nightly glow.

Jungkook's head lifts to glance over to Jimin. "Uh- Hyung, I thought you were sleeping in the king bed."

Jimin chuckles, turning to face Jungkook, as you pull yourself closer into his embrace. Jimin's lips fall quietly, as he calmly speaks.

"Namjoon said he doesn't trust you with his friend." Jungkook faints a hurt expression, gasping.

"Me? Why not?"

Jimin's eyebrows wiggle, eyes quickly taking a glance to Jungkook's prominent cock poking through the sheets.

"Oh, I don't know. Just a guess."

Jimin laughs softly, before rolling over to rhe middle, scooting in between the two of you. You sigh, lightly hitting at Jimin's shoulder, making him smile.

"Abuse me all you want. I'm not letting there be any baby Kookies running around anytime soon."

With this, you and Jungkook both decide in unanimously giving up after ten minutes of try to persuade his hyung, who'd been stone cold.

And Jungkook had still been stone hard.

Settling for falling asleep while holding hands across Jimin's lightly snoring body.

Letting sleep consume the three of you in a peaceful manner.

------

It's 2am, I'm going to sleep lol.

#Jungkook x you #Jungkook x reader #Idiots to friends? #Friends to cuddle buddies #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook cute #jungkook #bts #bts jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #Idol!Jungkook #Sleepless nights #Jimin's a cockblock lmfao #bts fics #park jimin #pjm #jeon jungkook #jjk #No smut??????? #Who am i??????

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 24

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 24: a relationship?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm sorry, sir. We can't pinpoint him. My guess is he's mobile." Caloh Warlock stood with his hands respectfully behind his back in front of Alastor, who remained seated in one of the chairs by the fireplace. His legs were crossed, a thoughtful hand on his cheek, and his cane upright beside his leg. He tapped the metal cover, agitated.

"One can't be mobile if he requires a factory." His eyes narrowed on the owned soul. He knew it wasn't Caloh's fault that Blackwater was hard to find, but that didn't stop the growing anger and anxiety boiling in his chest.

Caloh was the type of Demon that had a strange inhuman appearance. His entire head was a motorcycle helmet with a single eye blinking through the visor. He met the Demon back in 2016 when he nearly died on the side of the road. Alastor had taken the opportunity to secure another soul deal. He offered to save the dying man's life in exchange for his soul for the rest of eternity. Once the Great Collapse happened, he left the man alone to do what he wanted, only calling upon his services after the incident with Blackwater.

Caloh had spent weeks trying to track down Blackwater. The man was too evasive, never staying in the spot people claimed he was in. His inventions were still being mass produced, somehow, as if one of his major factories hadn't been swallowed into the earth. He didn't necessarily mind being brought under Alastor after so long, but he did mind the anger and condescending nature his master casted in his direction during every interaction.

He was abruptly pulled down to his knees, hands slamming into the wood floor as Alastor stood from the chair. Caloh leaned back on his heels as Alastor approached, refusing to stop until the tip of his boot hit the soul's knees. He slowly bent at the waist so his red eyes could bore into Caloh's single one.

"I don't want you to ask or find him," Alastor's teeth snapped dangerously close to his face, "I want you to hunt him down. I want to look through your eyes and see a man screaming and begging for his life until he gives you Blackwater's exact location." He paused, eyes searching Caloh's worried one through the helmet. "Prove your usefulness to me." He let Caloh hear the cries and screams of souls who no longer had their body, of souls who were damned for eternity until Alastor, himself, passed onto whatever was next for him.

"Of course...sir."

Alastor snapped back up with a wide grin. "Excellent! I expect to hear from you soon, then." He stepped back without looking and settled down in the chair again, antlers shrinking to their normal size.

Caloh swallowed despite his dry throat and slowly got to his feet. He gave a bow of his covered head before leaving the dark, ancient house. Alastor turned the radio back on to a quiet, somewhat lively tune and lost himself in his thoughts. His contacts were frequently updating him on Blackwater's movements or anything related to the man.

Blackwater seemed like a ghost, never fully there but never fully gone. His factories were being destroyed by other Overlords and yet his inventions were still streaming out to the public. He was becoming a big name and, according to Charlie, Lucifer was still dealing with more and more Demons coming into Hell. He tried to send them over to the haven but those who didn't live in the unclaimed territory were happy in their secured portion of Hell.

His darling was also being plagued by the man. Every time their minds melted together, he would get a brief memory of the man and the fear that was associated with it. It didn't help that you were always asking him, at least once every day, if he had found him yet. You always looked so deflated and worried when he said he hadn't.

"I need to rid this man," he growled aloud, abruptly standing up and moving into the library. He begun pacing around the cold room. He wanted more than anything to wrench the man's soul out of his body and stretch it across his radio frequencies. The pain and fear would taste wonderfully and maybe even his love would enjoy it. He wished dearly to see you come into your full Demon nature. You had so much potential, so much power, but your caring nature and traumatic past were preventing you. He remembered the struggle of unwrapping your curse when you first met four years ago.

His ear twitched when the front door open. He instantly recognized Reagan's voice as she called his darling's name. He took a few steps forward to look into the living room where Reagan stood. Her eyes locked on him and her body frozen.

"I'm afraid she's out at the moment," he told her, his smile feeling strained and fake in front of the teenager.

"Doing what?" She sounded skeptical. She always did around him. She had become an annoying thorn in his side, much like how her adoptive mother had been with him years ago.

"She is having tea with a friend of ours in Hell," he replied.

"I'll come back later, then." She went to the door but he spoke before she turned the handle.

"Perhaps you'd like to wait here. I suspect she'll return soon."

"And stay with you?"

His smile turned into a slight snarl. He couldn't understand how his darling and this teenager became so close. He couldn't understand why you even wanted to spend any time with such young folk. They were infuriating. It wasn't just his own preference, as he noticed. Many other adults in the haven didn't particularly like teenagers.

"She doesn't mind my company much." He pinched his claws together and examined them, sending a sideways glance in her direction.

"She should."

The nerve of this child.

"Why do you say that?" He moved swiftly into the living room and sat himself back in the seat by the fireplace. "You shouldn't judge someone by the rumors and tales spun by others."

Oh the irony of his very own words. It was thanks to the rumors and tales of others that his name became so feared so quickly in both realms.

"I'm not. I'm judging you from what she's told me." She let go of the handle and crossed her arms, facing him completely. While the two women weren't biologically related, he could see such resemblance. It was almost painful.

"And what has she told you?" His smile was a sneer in an effort to unset the young woman. He rested his cane on the arm rest and leaned his cheek into his clawed hand. He wanted to look relaxed and unbothered despite the burning questions in the back of his mind. How much and what exactly had the two of you been talking about in relation to him?

"Wouldn't you like to know," she growled.

"That is why I'm asking."

She rolled her eyes and finally opened the front door. "Ask her yourself."

"She cares for you," he said louder, catching her attention before she left. "You do not like me, that much is obvious, but I wish to...make amends? With you. I know it would bring her great joy to see us in each other's company."

Reagan thought for a long moment, eyes darting around and hand still on the door handle. After another moment of silence, she let out a strained sigh and closed the front door. Step one complete. Now, step two.

"Perhaps you can tell me why I bother you so?" He motioned to the chair across from him that you usually sat in. Reagan's eyes were like a snake's eyes, never leaving him as she sat down in the seat as rigid as ever.

"Well, you're the Radio Demon. What's there to even like?"

He chuckled at that. "It is a persona. One that keeps others from coming too close." He meant that physically and personally. "You are seeing the individual, now."

"I don't like the individual either. You terrorized my mo--you hurt her too."

He caught that phrase. My mother. Your relationship was significantly closer than he realized.

"According to dear Charlie, redemption is possible for everyone. I have been making steps to do just that."

"Like what? You're always touching her and I know you get more power when you do that."

Just how much had you revealed to this child? Why would you tell Reagan about the powers of the bond yet fail to tell her the actions he's taken to grow close with you? Were you embarrassed about the romantics? You were embarrassed for not knowing how to dance so surely that made sense, too. It made him feel better knowing that not everything was being shared with the teenager.

"A relationship is a complicated, thing," he started.

"Is that what it is?"

His one ear irked sideways. "Sounds as though you may need to ask her again how she feels about me. We have grown close despite the difficulties we both present."

"Sounds like stockholm syndrome."

A breath of silence. "How do you know what that means?"

"I'm eighteen."

"That explains nothing."

"I overheard someone say it and looked it up."

"You don't have a device to do such a thing."

"I asked Charlie for her phone."

Of course. He needed to talk to dear Charlie about that.

"Since the construction of the haven began, she has had an immense amount of freedom and has chosen to stay with me." He folded his claws in his lap and held them painfully tight. "She could have stayed with anyone in the haven, still can," he insisted, "but she chooses to remain up here with me."

He felt you touch his mind through the bond. He reached out and teleported you back to the cliffside.

"You're the Radio Demon. You can manipulate anyone."

He stood up and fixed his bow tie, grabbing his cane as he did so. "Perhaps you will come to see that I don't wish to manipulate everyone I come across. For now, you ought to speak with her more often about our relationship." He looked to the kitchen door before you walked in.

You greeted him with a smile, turning his own more genuine. He extended his hand and felt the warmth of your palm when you took it. He had planned to give you a kiss as a greeting but you noticed Reagan before he could. Instead, he resorted to a kiss on the top of your head by your lovely horns. He forced himself not to look at Reagan so as not to give in to her suspects.

The two of you talked briefly, agreeing to eat dinner together tomorrow evening. Reagan casted an unamused look in his direction before leaving the house. He let out a heavy sigh as soon as the door shut.

"What on earth happened?" you asked, "You two never talk."

"I had attempted common ground. She wasn't...overly receptive," he told you.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He bent down and finally stole a soft kiss. You laughed as you pulled away, letting him wrap an arm around your back. You were always so warm and folded perfectly into his side. He half listened as you talked about your conversation with Rosie, allowing him to lead you up the stairs to the shared room.

Since the two of you had grown close, you had a habit of pacing when you were in deep thought, your tail whisking behind you gracefully and your claws tapping on the wood and rug. You were the only one who he could listen to for hours.

He watched you go on about more ideas for the haven that Rosie had sparked in that mind of yours as he undid his bow tie and shed his red coat. He smiled over his shoulder when your words slowed. That particular movement of his never failed to make you falter, especially now that you had discovered his wretched tail.

He sat on the window seat with one leg up and his arm draping across it. You were quick to finish your train of thought, hands clasped firmly together in nervousness, and went silent in an effort to make him speak. For a few moments he watched you struggle, toe claws tapping the floor and tail swishing across the rug.

Finally, he relented and held out his hand for you to take. You walked over and let him pull you down with your back against his chest. He loved feeling your warmth and magic seep into his lungs. It felt like you were giving him more life. He wrapped his arms around your torso and smiled at the feeling of your hands gently hanging onto him. You shrank your horns so as not to hurt him and he planted a kiss on the top of your head as a thank you. He then rubbed his cheek against your smooth, soft hair.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

So perceptive. When had you gotten so good at reading him?

"I have been quite...forceful, haven't I?" he asked slowly, afraid to hear the answer.

"What do you mean?"

"I have...I want to allow you the ability to choose. I do not wish to take control of our...relationship." He worried you might react the same way to that word as Reagan had.

There was a spike of mixed nervousness and excitement from you. He let you touch his mind but he didn't want you to see his memory of the conversation with the teenager. You pressed further against him and tilted your head back so your closed eyes could lean against his neck. He noted a rabbit trail thought of yours. You liked when he was sitting because it lessened the height gap between you two. After all, he was mostly just legs.

"We might've had a rough start but...I do want to be close with you." You moved a hand to gently rest on top of one of his black claws.

"You are allowed to feel otherwise," he insisted.

"Thank you," you mimicked him, rubbing your face into his neck and sending more warmth through his body, "but I'd like to."

His eyes looked over your figure. Just over a year ago he would've hissed at your touch. A year ago he would've laughed at Rosie's statement of love. Only two years ago you had been at each other's throat and causing all kinds of headaches for him.

After centuries of being alone, of meeting shallow women, you had snaked your way under his skin and into his heart. How had he even let this happen? How had he even gotten to this point? He was the Radio Demon. Yet here he was trying to convince you, and himself, that you had a choice to be close with him.

How have I fallen so hard for you?

Your ear perked up and pulled your face away. "What did you just say?"

"I didn't."

You tilted your head back so your eyes could meet, both pairs jumping between each other, each trying to decipher what had just happened.

Surely you cannot hear me.

"That!" You made a slight jump in his arms. His one ear fell to the side.

This isn't real. He heard your voice without your mouth moving.

It appears it may very well be real, he answered through his own thoughts.

"Whoah..." you said aloud.

"Our bond has grown stronger." He felt the doubts in the back of his head disappear at the realization, but there seemed to be some bubbling in your own.

"I didn't think...can soulmates do that?"

"Some," he nodded his head. He searched your face and mind for fear, for resentment, for disappointment. Over a year ago you had been determined to keep him from sharing such a connection with you. Did you still feel that way? Doubts were one thing but what would happen if they solidified?

He felt your nervousness, though he didn't ever not feel that from you, but he wondered if it was because you worried what he would hear. What was there to be afraid of? He had already seen all your memories since the start of everything. Were you worried he was manipulating you? That had been a point you had stressed so many times when everything started.

Then he felt it. You wrapped your mind around his. He felt you search through some of his wide array of memories and through his feelings. He tried to push you out, surprised and angry at such an act, but for the first time ever he couldn't. He felt your presence pushing against him and drawing deep feelings from his chest.

He sucked in cool air when you finally pulled out of his mind. His ears pinned back against his head as he opened his mouth to scold you. Instead, you twisted your body and came up on your knees to connect your lips with his, a single clawed hand pressed just beneath his neck on his collarbone. You were pushing him hard into the wall.

He reached up and pulled on one of your horns to break the kiss, smile strained. "Darling why did you search--"

"I like you," you interrupted. He fell silent. His ears went back up. "I haven't ever been...close or in a relationship with anyone before you, but...we're soulmates for a reason, right?"

You pulled him into your mind and let him look through your memories, watching the conversation with Rosie only an hour before. They had talked about him. In depth. His anger melted away as quickly as it had arrived.

You're not manipulating me right? Your thought echoed in his head.

No, my darling.

Based on your reaction, he guessed you hadn't meant for that train of thought to reach him. He wondered about the limitations this new power and skill held, but that would come later.

He brushed the back of his fingers across your cheek like he always did. Now he understood why you had so blatantly went through his mind. You were searching for his true thoughts and feelings. You were trying to make sure he was being honest. Quite frankly, nowadays, he wasn't sure how to be dishonest with you.

I am infatuated with you. Enamored. Smitten. Dare I say recklessly in love with you.

In love? You sat back on your ankles, tail wrapping around your waist, so you could face him completely. He still had one leg up on the seat and the other over the edge.

"Yes my dear," he said aloud, "in love. I don't do shallow things. Much too trifling." He waved the word off with his hand, earning a small quirk of a smile on your lips. He wanted to kiss you again. "Would you consider yourself in love?"

"I uh...I suppose?"

"Why is it a question?" He rested his arm on his bent knee and noticed your pupils widen.

Ah. So that's what was happening.

He tried blending with your mind again but you were keeping him in the midst between shallow and deep waters. You were trying to hide it. Your mind was in two vastly different places at once. He wanted to exploit that further.

"I just...I've read the novels about love but I hear the teenagers and friends talk about liking someone first. I'm not sure what the difference is."

His smile turned into a grin. He reached out with his other hand to gently rest your chin on his red claw. "One is fleeting, one is deep. The latter is a commitment." He paused, eyes scanning your body for more hints. You were good at hiding it in that way but your eyes and guarded mind were telling more. "One elicits small gestures. The other...well..." His own heart was punching the inside of his chest. "Well, the other is a bit different."

His hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. He wrapped his arm around your back to pull you flush against him, hands on his chest and grabbing at the red button up. He loved the feeling of your hands on his chest and he wished right there that you had the confidence to undo one of those black buttons.

Though he settled for the glorious way you shifted your body so you could lean into his arm and tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Finally you opened your mind to him and he searched. You had the same burning sensation in your chest as he did and your hands were sweaty from nervousness. He could practically hear the things you wanted to do.

He had never felt the urges others had to be sweaty and physically intimate with each other. He very well understood the reasoning but never felt the desire himself. Now, his mind was beginning to wander, exploring the new topic.

His hands began to explore, too, moving down your back to settle on your hips then up your sides. Surely your skin there was just as soft and smooth as the skin on your cheeks. What would happen if you two went all the way? Could he even lead properly? He didn't believe he was experienced or at least knowledgable enough about it to do anything like it.

But he was just oh so curious. His thumbs found the edge of your shirt and slipped underneath to feel that soft skin.

Your eyes snapped open and you shoved away, knocking his head painfully hard against the wood. He let out a hiss as you scrambled back, wings sprouting from your back to wrap around your body. His smile faltered in the only way it could, the corners flatlining and his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His hand remained frozen in an outreach, unsure of what had just happened.

He gently brushed against your mind but you had blocked him out completely. It left him feeling aggressively cold and he had to increase his body temperature to keep himself from shivering. His chest pinched tightly as you refused to open your mind to him again.

"I overstepped." It was both a question and a statement.

"I don't...know." You were still wrapped in your wings and...were you shaking? Yes, you were definitely shaking. Your face was a tell tale sign enough. He could taste the edges of fear that still lingered from your previous contact.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He put both legs over the edge of the seat, eyes never leaving you. He noticed that you were refusing to look him in the eyes. You were watching him carefully, fearfully, like you had four years ago when he first brought you to the house.

"It wasn't...on purpose. I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" He tilted his head to the side, finally getting eye contact for a quick glance.

"For...reacting like that." You stared at the closed curtains, eyes picking something and sticking to it. He wasn't sure how to fix what had just happened. He didn't even know why it had happened. Everything seemed fine up until that last second.

"It is getting late, my darling." He tried changing the subject, trying to move on. "Perhaps it is time for our routine?" He snapped his fingers to make the usual items reveal themselves on the bed, your novel and his abstracts. You dared a glance at what he had done with his magic and he felt your guard thinning. "Why don't you get dressed? You may be feeling restless from overworking yourself."

You nodded, slowly unraveling yourself and leaving the room to change into your nightly outfit. He feared you would not return, stretching his mind out and wrapping around yours at a wide distance. He was trying to be welcoming, inviting, and just hoping that you would return to his room to spend the night with him again.

To his great relief, you did.

There was a heavy silence between you two for a long time. He tried to focus on writing his abstracts but failed miserably. He just wanted to know why you had reacted the way you did. Was it something he had done? He could taste a memory on the tip of his tongue but you had pulled away too soon for him to get the full extent of it. Had he triggered a bad memory?

Then it clicked.

When you first unraveled your curse, you had gone through a wretched memory. You had been attacked in one of your cages when you were a teenager. He remembered trying to convince you to kill the man who had ruined you but you had still been so skeptical of him at the time. Had ending the man's life not been enough to overcome such a memory? Obviously not.

His ears fell and his smile pinched into his check. He hadn't meant to trigger that memory or overstep a boundary. He hadn't meant to elicit such a fear from his own actions on you. You were a puzzle piece, for sure, with lots more work to be done. Guilt gnawed at his throat and he wished for a way to make you feel better, to apologize. He wasn't very good at those.

You noticed his ears and the stillness of his pen. "I'm sorry."

"What for, my dear?" He waited a moment before slowly turning his head to look. He didn't want to make any sudden movements.

"For reacting like that."

"You have already apologized for that, darling."

"Right." You went back to your novel.

He inwardly groaned. He was very bad at this.

"I suppose an apology from me is in order," he tried, removing his glasses, "I hadn't meant to scare you in such a way."

Finally, finally, he felt your guard fall completely. He slowly pressed his mind closer to yours until you metaphorically hooked a single claw on his mind. Apologies worked. Of course they did. The one thing he hated doing.

"Thank you." You moved over to rest your head on his shoulder. He shifted lower on the bed so it was more comfortable for you and placed a gentle kiss on your hair. You let out a wide yawn and he chuckled, drawing the book from your tired hands and dimming the lights and fireplace.

"I believe it is time for you to sleep," he mused kindly.

"What gave it away?" you teased with yet another yawn.

He laid down first and was surprised when you attached yourself to his side. Your tail wrapped around his leg and draped your arm over his chest. He planted another kiss on your forehead this time before you managed to snuggle your face into the crook of his neck. His own anxieties went out the window as your minds melted together perfectly.

His claws moved methodically along your back until he couldn't fight off the sleep either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Alastor perspective! New OC - Caloh Warlock!

Happy Easter <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

[thelightsandtheroses]

and my soul has changed, and my heart

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.

Drabble Summary: Joel and Tommy catch up on patrol after word of Joel's date with you spreads around Jackson. Word Count: 1245 Drabble Warnings: mentions of past child death (Sarah) and grief, 18+ blog MDNI Notes: I'm here with another Joel POV drabble! Thank you so much for your patience with this update, I am partway through chapter four so hope to update that shortly. The title for this drabble is from the song Orange Juice by Noah Kahan

Previous | Series | Next

The patrol route is quiet. There’s not a sign of infected or people around. Joel rests the back of his head against the tree he’s leaning against, watching Old Beardy drink from the nearby stream.

Joel can’t quite stop that alertness, the background wariness in case of something changing. It’s not a curse, it’s kept him alive this long.

It’s peaceful though. The area is illuminated by dappled sunlight between the trees hitting the water, the sounds of water babbling over the rocks and nature around are inescapable - you could forget about the world for a moment here.

Joel remembers how Ellie had taken everything in with such childlike wonder when they’d left Boston, how a world he’d known and taken for granted had seemed so new to her. He hadn’t wanted to let her in there, wanted to define her as cargo, as the reason Tess was gone, as a means to an end.

He was different then.

Joel allows himself one more moment of reverie before he focuses again.  He feels the familiar pang in his chest as he realises Sarah would have loved it here, would have been scrabbling up the nearby rocks. For just a moment he’s back in Texas, hiking with her on a weekend and nothing’s changed, nothing’s happened. He can almost see her, but he’s afraid to encourage that, too many nightmares start that way and end with her bleeding out in his arms.

Joel shakes his head, makes his way over to Old Beardy, runs his hands on the horse’s neck.

“I reckon we should make our way back now,” he says calmly.

“Yeah.” Tommy doesn’t move though; he stands there looking at Joel with a growing smirk on his lips. “So,” Tommy starts and Joel realises exactly what this is.

He’s unknowingly walked right into his brother’s set up here - patrol, getting out of Jackson.

“Just get it out your system, Tommy, ” Joel deadpans, arms folded. He should have known going to the Tipsy Bison, having a date in Jackson, would spread around town faster than a virus.

“I’m happy for you, Joel. The idea of you and Ellie putting roots down here, building a life, that’s - that’s what it was all about right? What you told me about why you -” Tommy breaks off.

They don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about the secret Joel told Tommy only days ago on a patrol. He had to tell Tommy, had to tell someone. Tommy understood. He was worried about that, especially with the baby - he wondered if Tommy would ever forgive him for that, for condemning his niece to a world without a cure. Or maybe it’s because of her that Tommy gets it.

“I have one drink with someone and -”

“Small towns, man.”

“Didn’t miss that.”

“Nope. You’ll get used to it. She’s friends with Maria, you know?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” Joel pauses. “She’s … I don’t know, Tommy. I thought after - after Tess, after everything that was all gone for me.” He’d resigned himself to what his life could be - one better than he had expected over the past twenty years, but he hadn’t seen you in his horizon, hadn’t thought there could be a you.

“Fate works in funny ways, I guess.” Tommy pauses and looks at Joel quizzically. “I can see it, y’know.”

“See what?”

Tommy laughs. Sometimes it surprises Joel -  how easy his brother seems to live now and how foreign the sound of his laugh had become to him too. Getting to Boston, surviving those years … there wasn’t much humour. There was always laughter in the house before.

He can hear Sarah’s laugh faintly even now. The way she’d almost fold herself up with laughter sometimes, shaking her head furiously.

Since Ellie, since everything over the last year, it’s like he’s bleeding Sarah everywhere.

Every memory he’d boxed up and hidden away is here now, out in the open and sometimes they feel less like a knife, or shiv, in the gut and sometimes the loss is as raw as it was the day his world fell apart. There’s always a dull ache though. That will never fade.

You’re not supposed to have to bury your kid.

He tries to shake the memory away, to bring himself back to now and this moment.

Joel’s here. He has his brother and Ellie and these delicate tendrils of a future again - Jackson, you, a chance. He’ll take that.

“So, I’ve got to ask, brother, how did you even get talking to her?”

“You sayin’ she’s out of my league?” You are, he thinks, you’re different to him, if you knew what he’s done … would you let him sit with you at night? Would you have kissed him on your porch?

Would you get it? You’re a parent, maybe you would. Or maybe you wouldn’t.

“I didn’t say that,” Tommy says, “Just she usually keeps to the library and her home mostly, and you’re not exactly a voracious reader.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.”

It’s not like Joel has ever hated reading; it’s just it’s not been a priority. Escaping into someone else’s story is a luxury when you’re fighting to make rent, to provide for the people you love. After the outbreak, it seemed fanciful, foolish even.

“Maybe you have,” Tommy says with a weight and stare that says more than his words.

Joel knows what Tommy thinks. He thinks he’s softened in age, with Ellie and Jackson. He isn’t the man of those nightmares anymore, not a hunter, not dangerous. He broke down in Jackson to his brother after all, bared his soul on his age, his deafness, his fears. He’d all but begged Tommy to take Ellie then. maybe it was about more than that - maybe he was just putting up barriers. He did it though.

Tommy’s wrong though. That man hasn’t vanished, that man hasn’t changed. He’s still there under the surface.

You can never fully exorcise those demons.

To live and survive in this world, you probably shouldn’t either.

“So, how did you get talking?” his brother asks, “How’d this start?”

Well, I met her on a bench in the middle of the night in some secret insomnia club we’ve created because hey, I’ve not slept properly in months, years even. No, Joel can’t say that to Tommy.

“We bumped into each other a few times, got to talking.”

“She seems nice, from when I’ve spoken to her and she’s been around with Maria. I can see you two gettin’ on. I mean I really thought you and Esther could have had something though -”

”She had a Victorian doll collection, Tommy. That shit was scary before the end of the world.”

“Yeah, but other than that.”

“I couldn’t get past the dolls, they were in her goddamn bedroom, staring at me …” Joel shudders at the memory. The cracked porcelain heads, faded fabrics and unblinking eyes staring at him when he didn’t want their attention. Esther was a lovely woman but there were over twenty of those dolls in her bedroom alone.

Maybe they helped her. But they sure didn’t help him.

“Okay, I get it, I get it. What if -”

“She won’t have a collection like that.” At least, Joel hopes you don’t.

“Here’s hoping. We should head on back now.”

Joel nods, shifts his backpack, and moves to get on Old Beardy.

He takes in the scene around him just a second longer.

Peace.

Maybe it’s not so far away.

Tag List

YHIM: @orcasoul @pedropascalsbbg @yoursoulsunbreakable @iamskyereads @genetics4life @everyth1ngfan @frickatives @perennialdoll247 @joelsgreys @noisynightmarepoetry @pedrobaby @noisynightmarepoetry

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #your hand in mine fic

[alexandthensome]

Who You Gonna Call?

Chapter 1: Something Strange DC x DP Fic based off this post

Warnings: Major Character Death, Strong Language, Depictions of Violence

Rating: Mature

Author’s Note: For those who have been waiting for forever I apologize for how long it took me to crank out this one chapter this is my first time writing a Fic so any constructive criticism helps, also thank you soo much for the support ❤️. Update On Chapter 2 of “Who You Gonna Call?” It’s knots done jut need to finish a few final touches should be posted by Friday of Next Week

When you think about it, peace will never be the outcome. Not for him, not anymore.

Not while his Parents lay dead at his feet, not while his sister sobbed helplessly; never again will Danny Fenton ever know a peaceful life.

But he’s okay with that; he’s come to terms with how things stood and knew there wasn’t much left to figure out besides where he will go now.

He never thought he’d have to plan a life without his parents, never suspected that this family vacation would be the last.

Nor did he expect his sister to go from “Annoying Older Sibling.” To “My Only Living Family Member.” in less than a day.

This was inevitable with his line of work, but he never expected his life to be this crazy, at least not so soon.

For him, being half ghost used to feel like a gift, something he could use to help the people he cared about the most. Now it was a curse, a cancerous infection slowly seeping into everything he held close.

Because of his “gift.” everyone and everything he knew was gone, replaced by this empty confusing nothingness, all their hopes and dreams for him nothing more than lost memories.

His parents were gone, taken from him in some brutal twist of fate by some psychopathic clown they call “The Joker.” to be completely honest, Danny was feeling anger beyond rational thought every time he thought about him.

And the worst part about this was that everything everything that happened was all a ploy, some sort of elaborate trick to lure Batman to his hideout, and The Fenton’s were nothing more than pawns in The Joker’s scheme to kill him.

Not only did he kill his parents, but he did it with a smile as he made Danny watch, laughing at his suffering until he got what he wanted.

Danny was taken to the police station and asked to state what he experienced while begging held hostage by the Joker, but all he could do was stare blankly at the wall.

As he got interviewed by the police, news anchors, and other journalists, all he could think about was how he everyone down. His frustration was building up under the surface, and he felt sick.

“How could I let this happen.” he thought. 

His mind raced, his fingers felt numb, his chest heaved as if something was blocking his airway, and he felt like everything around him was closing in. The walls began to spin, and he could feel his throat closing up, tears welling in his eyes.

Jazz noticed his strange behaviour and tried her best to get him to calm him down, but the panic had already set in.

They were alone, he let this happen, and there was nothing he could do to fix this. Nothing at all

Dozens of forced statements later, Danny was drained.

Despite being the “Hero.” he was, he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly useless. They kept asking him the same questions repeatedly until the words melted into nothingness, his brain felt like swiss cheese, and he thought he would pass out at any second.

Jazz had to handle all of the legal proceedings, taking her parent’s estate, medical bills, funeral expenses, and everything else; She was overwhelmed, to say the least.

She had no idea what to do once they were done with the police, they had nowhere to go, and beyond that, they had nobody to help them.

Her head was swimming, and for a split second, she broke; Danny noticed his sister sobbing and went in to hug her.

“I’m sorry this happened, Jazz, really I am. I wish I could trade my life for theirs; I would,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

“Hey, I know this everything is so crazy, but don’t blame yourself for what happened. There’s nothing more you could’ve done, okay?” she replied, rubbing his head to soothe him.

“but I let everyone down. I’m the reason they’re dead; if I don’t do something to avenge them, then-” he said rapidly, beginning to panic again.

“Enough, no more vengeance, no more self-blame. You’re just a kid. Nobody should’ve put that responsibility on you-.” she tried to explain, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“That doesn’t matter anymore, Jazz. I’m not a kid anymore; I think I need to go for a walk and clear my head,” he said, pushing her off his and heading towards the door.

Jazz called out for him, but he was gone before she could get a word out.

As he walked the streets of Gotham City, he felt angry; at the world and at himself; he even felt anger towards his parents for suggesting this stupid trip. He wanted nothing more than to change the way things are right now, be somewhere different, and do something right for once.

He didn’t know what to do with himself; he walked around aimlessly for what felt like hours, looking for something, anything to do. He needed someone save; he wanted something to fight, anything in the world that would take his mind off things for a second.

all of a sudden, a blue mist leaves his mouth

“Finally.” he thought to himself

He changed into his ghost form quickly, and he waited. The tension in the air is thick, and he slowly looks around, hoping to see whatever is watching him.

“Don’t you know this place isn’t safe after dark?”

Danny looked around, trying to see where the voice came from,

“If I were you, I’d just turn around and head back home.”

“And why should I listen to you, wise and powerful shadow man?” Danny replied sarcastically

suddenly, he saw something jump from the fire escape down to the ground in front of him. He didn’t expect him to make that fall, let alone get up that easily.

He stood there frozen as the figure approached him, wearing a red helmet, a leather jacket, black pants, and a shirt with a red bat.

“I’ve heard of you before; you’re Red Hood, right?” Danny asked nonchalantly, trying to cut the tension of the situation

“In the flesh, and you’re that ghost kid “Phantom.” right?” he replied as he stepped closer to Danny, cornering him into a wall.

“Uh, Yep, in the flesh.” He said with a nervous chuckle

Danny was terrified; after the last couple of days he’s had, he didn’t want to take any chances with any more of the heroes or villains in Gotham.

Red Hood had him backed to a wall, his hand on the right side of Danny’s face.

“What’s your deal anyways, ghost boy? You want to run around being a vigilante, too?” he said, leaning in. 

“I-I’ve been a vigilante since the 9th grade,” he stuttered. “And for the record, I don’t need your permission to do anything, so why would you expect me to ask for it?.”

“Because if you don’t, I get to kick your ass and have you arrested for breaking curfew.” He replied

Danny chucked, “finally.”, he thought, “a reason to punch someone in the face.”

“respectfully, I’d like to see you try,” he said, cockiness radiating from his voice.

“fine, it is your funeral.”

@blackrabbitt3t @nedwec @blackstar-gazer @baykitthings @real-danny-phantom @hungrymentor @the-lokes @dizzydreamerzzz @phantom-phrases @sheep567 @lenoryt13 @theauthorandtheartist

@phantomskeep @arc-777 @dreamingasters @betinaplayingwriter @zeldomnyo @jaguarthecat @the-gay-florist @reinluna @gabrielandjackthenephilim @icepopstar5105us @skulld3mort-1fan

@batbootie @that-random-fangirl@cyber-geist@dat1angel@undead-essence@distractedducky@oddessy@dreamingasters@jarlyd@

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #dcu fanfic #danny fenton #danny phantom #jason todd #red hood #jason x danny #dynamic duo #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #dc joker #the joker #danny has the impulse control of a glazed donut #and thats all im going to say #also Jason has no flight or fight #it is only fight #jazz doesn’t get paid enough for this

[piningpebbles]

the dream smp journey: attempting to make the lore of the dream smp more accessible.

so back when i first wanted to get into the dream smp i had absolutely no idea where to start. i asked some people and they told me pretty much “look up dream smp + [insert youtuber name] and start there” and so i did, but i quickly came to realize how much i was missing from the story by not seeing all the different points of view.

so i decided to make my own playlist.

it was just for myself at first, but as i got more obsessed with the story, i also gave the link to some friends of mine so they could have the full experience, and they loved it. so i kept updating it.

my goal was to try and make a capsule of the entirety of the lore on the dream smp across almost every single POV, because while i do appreciate those who make recap videos, they always miss something and it’s usually with peoples’ POV who aren’t considered to be “main characters” which sucks because one of my favorite things about the dream smp was how everyone was their own main character with their own individual storyline you could get invested in.

i’ve seen every single video in the playlist, and did my absolute best to discern what should be included and what didn’t need to be. 

for instance, while i personally enjoyed streams where they’d just goof off, this is a lore-centric playist so i didn’t include all of them unless one of the jokes or such gets mentioned/becomes important later on. or if there is a lore event happening but two people have almost identical streams to one another then i decided between the two of them which one to keep. or if the cc themself made an edited version of their experience, i would decide whether to go with that or keep the original vod

it’s far from perfect. i tried to keep up with it as long as i could I STILL HAVE VIDEOS IN MY WATCH LATER THAT I PLANNED TO ADD but simply put while the dream smp storyline got longer and longer it became harder to keep up with. i watched pretty much all the streams when they happened but failed to update the playlist accordingly so right now it has almost everything up until ”Hitting on 16.”

i always wanted to finish it before i posted it, but i’ve been seeing people talk about how they miss the experience of watching the dream smp and while i obviously can’t provide the full interactive experience that the dream smp offered as it came out, i knew i couldn’t just keep this in my back pocket and thought i could at least offer a good chunk of the experience for you guys to still be able to keep!

here’s the playlist, spanning over 300 videos.

there’s also a semi-canon playlist (not nearly as thorough) for events that get mentioned by the cc’s a lot or are just cool to have and i wanted to include them somewhere so here it is also!!

to go along with it i also made a masterpost (can you tell i love making lists) which is what every single video on the playlist is supposed to be (and was last i checked, but videos get taken down every so often so there might be a couple missing here and there).

i hope to update this one day and have it fully finished, but with my schedule (full-time college student babyyyy) and simply the hundreds of hours of content i’d need to sift through it just seems impossible (and frankly just really intimidating) to challenge alone right now. so i also wanted to give this to the community to maybe be able to do what i couldn’t!

my hope with this is that if someone in a year or two (or whenever really) is interested in the dream smp they won’t have to sit through recap videos and instead can watch the real thing in a single playlist connected to the doc. my dream is for the masterpost and the playlist to go hand-in-hand, being like a guide people can follow that would also link to other moments and lore that is saved but just not avaliable on youtube, so we don’t have all these moments just lost to time.

i want to make this collaborative, i’m hoping this will maybe spark others to share what videos/moments they have saved and stored with each other for the dream smp and maybe together we could complete this thing somehow!! make the playlist and masterpost i dreamed of (the one right now is scuffed, but at least it’s something). the dream smp is one of my absolute favorite pieces of media out there and i want to share this with people but (as you can probably tell) i have no idea what i’m doing!! any step to help make the story more readily accessible is a good one, though!

i know i’ve missed things but i’ve done my best. and while not the perfectly polished thing i hoped it would be when i sent it out to the world maybe it could be a good building block for the community to use. so please share this!! reblog it!! all that jazz!! i want this to be for everyone!!

anyways, this is a long post. but the whole reason i got into the dream smp in the first place was because of the awesome fan content i saw and this crazy and creative community and i want to be able to give back, if i can.

#dream smp #the dream smp journey #dream smp lore #mcyt #tommyinnit #jack manifold #c!tommy #c!jack #(sorry jack and tommy gotta use you to cross-tag) #(is it even crosstagging if they're IN the playlist?.... lot to think about) #i really wanted to add more to this #my goal was to catch up on all the videos and then go back and transcribe each one (or link pre-existing transcriptions) #and then add content warnings if need be #i had this idea too where say you just finished up the nov.16th lore after that it would be cool to link you to sad-ist's animation!! #just things like that! i had a lot of things i was thinking about #anyways thanks for reading my c!jack analysis posts throughout all this time now you may have my massive lore bank i've been holding onto #cheers!!! #rambling rocks #like.. holy shit #will this even turn into anything? i don't know. i hope so #i want to come back to this and give it the TLC it deserves #but until i find the time + motivation for that i didn't want to keep it just to myself #i just hope this is a good step towards making the dream smp story more accessible to people #pebble post

[askagamedev]

recently a Ubisoft exec apparently said that customers would have to get used to not owning their games for streaming and game services like game pass to really take off. What’s your take on that? Are we really headed to a place where none of us own our games anymore and we just rent them? If we buy games digitally do we actually own them? Can the rights to those games be taken away even after we paid for them?

As with most things, it's good to take the time to understand the nuance of what was said. The Ubisoft person doing the speaking was Philippe Tremblay and he is Director of Subscriptions at Ubisoft. In [the article], he was specifically talking about the mental shift that needs to happen in order for a subscription business model in games to really take hold, because game subscription services are really still in their early stages. Realistically speaking, subscriptions have one of two possible futures - an eventual plateau where subscriptions reach sustainability and equilibrium or an eventual crash because they couldn't.

Look at digital music streaming services like Spotify. They have largely reached their plateau as a massive chunk of the music market. There are still people who buy physical albums, but they are in the minority. The majority of music consumers tend to listen to their music via streaming services and have gotten used to not owning their music. This is one possible future for video games.

Let's contrast this with the current state of movie and tv streaming services. There's a huge number of streaming customers, but there are still strong physical media sales because the streaming services can't necessarily keep the shows and films the people want due to licensing issues. When this kind of volatility in the availability of the product is commonplace, it upsets the user base and puts them off of staying as subscribers. This is another possible future for video games.

As for buying games digitally and "owning" them... well, not really? Like... we've known for ages that end of service for live games is the end of the road, barring player-run grey shards and the like. There are many MMOG, MOBA, looter shooter, mobile, etc. games that have been shut down permanently. Some kinds of games are inherently ownable and some are not.

As player, it is largely up to us to decide what kind of games we want to support. Playing with a regular group of friends in a live service game is a huge amount of fun but absolutely not conducive to owning the game. Playing a single-player game by myself at my leisure is much more conducive to ownership, but I lose out on content updates and the camaraderie of playing with friends. It is my belief that we should all support the things we value. There are no solutions, only tradeoffs.

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Got a burning question you want answered?

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Frequent Questions: The FAQ

#ownership rights #continued development #the business of video games #how things work #legal implications

[writeforfandoms]

Warrior Song 8

Find the series masterlist

Again: playing fast and loose with canon. Noteably with AIs and how they operate or don’t operate over distances. Also, I am not a medical professional, so y’know. Keep that in mind.

We hit our first major road bump since the fall of the Infinity. 

Warnings: violence, blood, questionable medical advice, swearing, some lack of self-value, Feelings, sweetness at the end. 

Word count: 2.7k

The next few days were quiet. Eventually, you had gone back to the Pelican, Fernando had apologized, and the lot of you had gone on your way to the next clue. 

Nobody brought up the cuddle pollen again. 

“Anything new?” you asked Joy idly. The AI had connected to your tablet to help keep track of things in multiple places at once, so you’d taken her along with you to gather up water. The stream you’d tested was clear and drinkable, so you were busy refilling water bottles and big containers to haul back to the Pelican. 

“Not yet,” Joy said, using the speakers on your tablet. “So far this place is pretty quiet!”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” you drawled. 

“Wait.” Joy was quiet for a few moments. “I’ll update you later.” And she was gone, attention pulled to whatever was going on with Blue Team. 

Unease churned in your gut, but you figured she’d let you know if there was anything you could do to help. So you just finished up with your task, taking the refilled water bottles back to the Pelican before you and Fernando team lifted the water tanks. 

“We’ll have to head back to base soon,” Fernando puffed as you two shoved a water tank back onto the ship. “Getting low on fuel.”

“I’m surprised it took this long,” you agreed with a little huff. “I feel like we must have traversed half the ring by now.”

“Not quite,” Fernando said, shoving the tank back into place. “But close. And still no closer to having answers.”

You hummed, taking a seat. “Well, either they’ll find answers, or there aren’t answers to find anymore.” You shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe the part of the ring that got blown up, or whatever, is the part that had the answers. Maybe they don’t exist anymore.” 

“Would be nice if that’s that easy.” Fernando sighed. “Never seems to be, though.”

You hummed, tipping your head back against the wall of the Pelican. “Hopefully we’ll get some news soon. All of this is more boring than I thought it would be.”

“That’s because you missed all the fireworks,” Fernando said, sinking down into the seat next to yours. “That first week was…”

“A lot?” you suggested gently. 

“That’s one way to put it.” Fernando sighed. “Come on, one more tank to move. Let’s get it done.”

“Alright, alright.” You stood again and stretched your arms up over your head. Then you followed Fernando outside and got to work. 

You didn’t hear anything, didn’t see anything. One minute you were helping carry the tank of water, the next there was a boom and your leg collapsed out from under you. Fernando yelled, scrambling for his gun, and you blinked stupidly for a moment. 

And then the chittering of Jackals caught your attention, and you decided now would be a good time to move. Only your leg wouldn’t support your weight, and you crumpled with a shout. 

Fernando fired off two quick shots, kneeling next to you. “Can you move?” he asked, keeping his weapon raised and trained on where you assumed the Jackals had been. 

“No.” You clenched your jaw tight, pain lancing up your leg as you tried to move. A quick look showed blood. A lot of blood. A through and through shot, maybe. 

“Okay. This is gonna suck.” Fernando took one hand off his gun to haul your arm up and over his shoulders. And then he stood, dragging you with him. For a moment, the pain was so intense you feared you’d scream or black out, but you did neither. Just breathed harshly through your teeth and tried your best to keep your weight off the injured leg. 

Fernando fired again twice more, swearing near constantly under his breath. “Almost there,” he huffed. 

Your eyelids fluttered, attention fractured between the agony in your leg and the boom of shots being exchanged across the new battlefield. 

“Almost there,��� Fernando muttered again. Two more shots - one from the other side, one from him. And then the two of you stumbled into the interior of the Pelican and he slammed the button to close the ramp. 

You fell to the floor with a high whine, panting through the pain. Logically, you knew this was bad. It certainly felt bad. 

“Joy, I need help here!” Fernando hit the floor next to you, hands hovering over you. “Oh shit. That’s a lot of blood.” 

“Press down,” you wheezed, pushing up on your hands to sit up. “Need the rags.” 

“You need biofoam,” Fernando objected, shaking his head, eyes wide. 

“No.” The vehemence in your own voice surprised you. “Save it. Only have two.” You took a deep breath, fighting through the pain and the shock.  You’d never been shot before. It hurt, a lot more than you thought. “Medical crate.” 

Fernando grabbed the crate and dragged it over, throwing the lid somewhere. He grabbed one of the biofoam canisters and you slapped his hand away. 

“Not for me,” you insisted, shaking. “Rags, under the exit wound. On top. Press hard.” 

“You need–”

“Listen to me.” You grabbed his hand with your blood-slicked one, holding hard. “Stop the bleeding. No biofoam. Not for me. Too precious.” 

“Joy, where the hell is my backup?” Fernando yelled, freeing his hand to put the biofoam injector down and grab bandages. He packed a few under your thigh, under the exit wound, and you keened when he had to move you. 

“On their way back,” Joy finally answered, sounding about as stressed as you had ever heard. 

“Press hard,” you reminded Fernando, taking several fast breaths. He pressed hard and you stuffed your wrist into your mouth to muffle your shriek. 

“This is not good,” Joy said. “You’re losing blood fast.”

“Just let me use the biofoam,” Fernando practically begged, though he didn’t let up on the pressure. 

“Steady pressure,” you reiterated. “It will stop.” You laid back, starting to feel woozy. “I haven’t bled out yet. Probably not an artery.”

“You are insane,” Fernando snapped. “Fucking insane.” But his hands didn’t let up at all. “Can’t I use some of that powder stuff?”

You shook your head, clenching your hands into fists. “Too deep,” you murmured. “Won’t help. Pressure.”

“Yes, keep pressure, stop the bleeding, I got it.” Fernando was sounding even more freaked out though. “You’re not passing out, are you?”

“Not yet.” You hissed out a breath as he leaned harder on your thigh. “You’re doing great.” 

“Do not tell me I’m doing great while you’re refusing the best treatment, you–” He broke off to swear in Spanish. 

“It’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. “We’ll worry about stitches later.”

“Stitches?!” His voice climbed at least an octave on the word. 

“You’ll do great.” You opened your eyes again, feeling a little blurry. “We can risk some of the… the tea.”

“What’s the risk?” Fernando didn’t move yet, watching you like a hawk.

“Need to stay awake,” you mumbled. “Just hand me one.”

He hissed out another slew of curses but shifted his weight to one hand, pressing down hard enough that you whined. His free hand grabbed a vial of the tea and handed it to you, blood smeared all over the vial. It was a struggle to sit up enough to drink some and not just slosh it all over yourself, but you managed. 

More shots fired outside caught both your attention and Fernando scrambled for the gun. 

“It’s Blue Team,” Joy was quick to say as the ramp started to lower. “I’m letting them in.”

“Thank fuck.” Fernando dropped the gun again, refocusing on you. 

Chief was the first one in, dropping to his knees next to you. “Status,” he demanded.

“Through and through shot,” you gasped, hands curling weakly. “Didn’t hit an artery, would’ve bled out already. Fernando is doing a great job applying pressure. Next is…” You licked your lips and drew in a deep breath. “Next is stitches.” 

“Use the biofoam.”

“Don’t you dare.” You lifted your head to glare at John. “We only have two.”

“Base has more.” He grabbed one of the canisters. 

“We can’t make more of those,” you argued, trying to push up onto your hands to argue. Kelly knelt behind you, firm hands on your shoulders keeping you down. “They’re valuable.”

“So are you.” John moved Fernando’s hands and injected the biofoam into the wound. You slammed a fist into the floor, both from the pain and frustration. 

“John–” you started before your leg twitched reflexively and you sort of whited out, a little. 

“Isn’t that stuff supposed to be numbing?” Fernando asked anxiously, still hovering next to you. 

“It takes a minute,” Kelly said, voice cool and calm. “The bleeding is already slowing.” 

“They were using an MA40,” Fred reported as he and Linda clomped up the ramp onto the Pelican. “A few stragglers.”

“So just shitty luck,” you wheezed, trying to focus on anything but how much your leg hurt, which really only emphasized how much your leg hurt. 

“We’re going back to base.” John dropped the empty canister to the side and started clearing away the bloody rags. You lifted your head to watch and swallowed. That was a lot of blood that was outside your body. 

“Fluids,” you muttered, almost by rote. “And rest.”

“An excellent prescription,” Kelly agreed smoothly. “One that perhaps you’ll follow.”

“She will.” Fernando scowled at you, although you could see the fear behind the anger. 

You waved a hand limply and let your head thunk back against the floor. “Fine. Couple days off it should be enough.” 

A big hand caught one of yours, holding you gently, like you were delicate. To a Spartan, you kind of were, actually. A quiet conversation took place over your head about moving you to a seat versus leaving you on the floor. You voted for just staying on the floor. 

Apparently someone was still listening to your muttering, because John sat behind you to brace you, letting you lean back against his chest while Linda brought you water. Fernando stood outside long enough to wash off his hands before he stomped into the cockpit and shut the doors. 

You did feel a bit bad about that. 

As the adrenaline wore off and the biofoam did its job, you found yourself leaning harder back against John. He was the only thing keeping you upright, really. 

“We will have a talk about this,” he rumbled in your ear, and, oh, that was his normal voice. Unmodulated. He wasn’t wearing his helmet. You managed to look in his direction, blinking slowly. He was stubbly, just a little. Idly, you wondered how that would feel under your hands. 

“We will?” You finally got your mouth connected to your brain again. 

“Yes.” His jaw clenched for a moment, and you watched the play of muscles under his stubble with absolute fascination. “When you’re lucid.”

“‘M lucid.” You blinked again sluggishly. It was work to peel your eyes back open. 

“Rest for now.” One hand landed on your hip, helping to anchor you in place as the engines whirred to life and the Pelican lifted off.

You grumbled a little. Time blurred. It took much too long between blinks. You felt the Pelican in motion, then landing. Then the clamor of voices, hard armor under you, sudden pain in your thigh as you were lifted. 

Then dim lights and something more or less soft under you. You slowly pushed yourself upright, hissing softly at the residual ache in your thigh. 

“You should be laying down.” 

You blinked at John, wondering briefly how you’d missed him. He was a hulking mass in the corner, dressed down in a slightly too tight shirt and pants. “What time ‘s’it?” 

“0200, approximately.” He shrugged. 

“Why are you still up.” You lifted one hand to rub your eyes, wrinkling your nose at how dry you still felt. 

John was quiet for a few long moments, long enough that you refocused on him. “I needed to keep watch.” 

You almost very stupidly blurted out that you were in camp, why would he need to keep watch? Then you realized. He meant you. Keep watch over you. It was his way of admitting he’d stayed up to make sure you were okay. 

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you smiled, despite yourself. “I’m not dying,” you murmured. 

“Not tonight.” His lips pressed together, briefly distracting you. “You could have.” 

You sighed. “It was a logical choice,” you murmured, shifting your weight very carefully on the bed and letting your hands fall to your lap. “Biofoam is not something we can manufacture or replace here, whereas rags and pain tea are readily available.”

“It’s not the call you would have made if one of us was shot. If Fernando was shot.” 

You hesitated, because you knew he was right. If Fernando had been shot, or John or the others… You would have used the biofoam. Without question. You sighed, shoulders drooping, sinking in on yourself. “You’re right.”

“So why?” He finally stepped closer, his arms dropping to his sides. 

You frowned, struggling with the words for several long moments before you sighed. “You’re critical,” you finally admitted, gaze down. “Fernando is your pilot, you need him. Blue Team are all irreplaceable.” You swallowed hard. “I’m just a medic.” 

“And that makes you more replaceable.” He knelt slowly next to the bed so he could catch your gaze.

“Yes.” You closed your eyes, breathing slowly. “I’ve made some hard calls since we’ve all been stuck here. Sometimes that means someone dies. Sometimes it means just a lot of pain and a slower recovery.” You finally looked at him, throat tight. “I’d rather have the supplies for you, in case you need them. Any of you.” 

John was quiet for several long moments, giving you time to calm down again. “Your reasoning is flawed,” is what he finally said.

“What?” You blinked at him, running through your argument in your mind again. 

“You’re critical, as well.” He leaned in slowly, carefully, only getting close without touching, until he was mostly all you could see. “You’re not just a medic. You’re not replaceable.” 

“John?” You licked your lips, eyes wide, focused entirely on him. 

“I’m not good at this,” he muttered. One hand very slowly closed over yours, sending your pulse racing somehow even faster. 

“Neither am I,” you admitted, barely even daring to breathe. “Don’t tease me. What do you mean?” 

John blew out a slow breath, the only outward sign of his nerves. “You are… special. To me.” His fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours. “I would like to… have more. With you.”

“Like a relationship?” You couldn’t keep the hope out of your voice if someone had paid you. 

“Yes.” He swallowed, holding very still. Waiting for you to decide. 

“I would very much like that.” You smiled, shy and pleased and overwhelmed. “Can I kiss you, John?” 

He considered the question for a moment before he nodded, just slightly. “Yes, ma’am.” 

You freed one hand to cup his jaw - his stubble was a delightful little rasp under your fingers, and you smiled. Slowly, giving him a chance to stop you or pull away, you leaned in, until you could press your lips to his in a chaste kiss.

Your eyes fluttered open again to find the tiniest of smiles on his lips. “How was that?” you asked softly, unwilling to risk this new thing between you.

“Acceptable.” He paused. “Further research will need to be conducted.”

“Of course.” You tamped down on your own grin… mostly. More or less. It was entirely gone when he took the initiative to kiss you again. 

You could have quite happily gotten distracted with kissing him for the rest of the night, except that pain flared in your thigh, reminding you that yes you had gotten shot a matter of hours ago. At your grimace, John frowned a little and started pushing you back to lay down. 

“You need more rest.”

“So do you,” you muttered. “Please get some sleep tonight.”

“I will.” John leaned down to press a very careful kiss to your forehead. “Good night.” 

“Night.” You watched with your heart in your eyes as John rose, as fluidly as if aging wasn’t a thing that existed to him, and left the room. 

Your dreams were surprisingly pleasant, for once.

#warrior song #master chief x reader #john-117 x reader

[badolmen]

“I’m scared to pirate stuff - ” do it scared!*

*with Firefox and Adblock and a VPN and -

If you want a nonspecific, nonexhaustive “where do I even start” guide…

Sail the cyber seas at your own risk!

Streaming - “I want to watch xyz”

This is normally what most people want when they talk about pirating.

Use Firefox with uBlock Origin and additional privacy add-ons such as PrivacyBadger, TrackMeNot, etc.

Free VPNs are out there. Get one - but vet it’s efficacy. My go-tos are Proton VPN, or Windscribe if you plan to do a bit of torrenting.

What is torrenting? How does it work? Here’s a guide!

Back to streaming -

Make sure that a) you’ve got your Mozilla browser with all its adblocking private glory, and b) you’ve got a VPN turned on to hide what you’re doing in that browser from your ISP (internet service provider).

Now you need to actually find a site to stream from. This is the tricky part, because openly sharing these sites will get them taken down if they’re talked about widely enough. (Remember how tiktok idiots got zlibrary taken down?)

You’re going to have to talk to people on forums. You’re going to have to experiment with sites you find yourself. Search for ‘x online free’ and look at the links that come up - is the preview text mangled or clickbaitey? Are there Reddit threads about that website confirming or denying its content? A good rule of thumb is to ignore the top result or two - copycats of good streaming sites will often buy out the top result spot. Eventually, you’ll develop a good gut feeling and understanding of what a good site ‘looks like’ from the results page alone.

However, there are some places that compile good sites that haven’t been nuked by lawyers (yet) - check out r/FMHY! The masterposts are actively curated and updated when a site goes down or is found to have malicious downloads.

Remember - loose lips sink ships. No tweeting (xeeting?) or Facebook statuses about your new favorite piracy website and where you found it. Even posting to tumblr (kind of like this…) isn’t a great idea if you want those websites to stay under the radar and stay accessible. Nobody talks, everybody walks (away with their share of pirate booty)

If you aren’t downloading media, pick pretty much any site and watch away! Adblock and Firefox will keep away pop-ups and other annoying ads, and your VPN means your ISP can’t tell that you’re visiting an unofficial streaming service.

Note: In my experience, I’ve never heard of visiting a site and watching stuff on it infecting or otherwise compromising your computer. That tends to come from misclicks on invisible or overwhelming pop-up ads that redirect you to an automatic download or similarly malicious bullshit. If you’re using Firefox and uBlock, you shouldn’t be in any danger of an accidental redirect.

Downloads - “I want to keep xyz”

This is the realm of pirate archiving - you’re keeping files physically on your hard drive, an external hard drive, or burning a disk.

Adblock + Firefox browser? Check. VPN on? Check.

Go to your streaming site of choice - most if not all have download options. You can download those files or, manually, right click and save the video file from the webpage as an mp4. I honestly don’t know if there’s a difference in quality or more danger in clicking the download buttons, but regardless -

Run that puppy through VirusTotal.com! It’s a reliable browser based virus checker - if the file is too large, use a local virus checking program (your native Windows Defender on Windows computers or, I prefer, Malwarebytes)

Generally mp4 and mp3 files are clean - choose where to save them for the long term, and bam! Free forever media.

Optionally, I also upload mp4 files to a named Google document - this way I can easily share them or make them findable through a ‘xyz Google doc’ search for others :]

Torrents - “I want to keep and share xyz”

I’m not going to go into this subject in depth because, honestly, it’s not something I do regularly.

See the previously linked Torrenting guide for information on how the process works, and check out r/FMHY for recommendations and warnings about different torrenting clients (I’ve personally only used qBittorrent - I’ve heard to stay away from the Pirate Bay and Bittorrent.)

As with streaming, turn on that VPN baby! You’re going to need one that supports peer-to-peer (p2p) connections, so Proton’s free version is a no-go. Windscribe is what I’ve used for torrenting (and it’s a good free VPN on its own - I’m just partial to Proton). You get 10GB every month on Windscribe’s free version, which is more than enough for a few movies/a season or two of your favorite show.

(Bigger torrents like video games are easily 30+ GB, so be prepared to either pay for a no-limit premium account or spend a few months downloading your files in chunks.)

VPN on? Double check.

Boot up your torrenting client - I use a slightly out of date version of qBittorent, but there are other options. The Reddit thread and previously linked torrenting guide have a few dos and donts of selecting a client, so be thorough before you download your client of choice.

This is getting into the logistics of torrenting a bit, so forgive me if this is vague or incorrect, but now you need a torrent seed. These will be .tor files found through pirating websites or archives - these are rarely malicious, but it’s good to run any piracy related download through something like VirusTotal.com or scan it with a local program like Malwarebytes.

You open your seed file in your client and wait. A ‘healthy’ seed tends to have lots of seeders and few leeches, but sometimes you’re stuck with an obscure seed you just have to wait for.

Your torrented files have fully downloaded! Now what? a) keep your client open and seed those files for others as long as you want to - sharing is caring! and b) run those files through a security program like Malwarebytes (not sponsored it’s just the only program I’m familiar with).

Be wary of what gets flagged - sometimes the files seem important, but are just trojans, and likewise sometimes they seem malicious, but are just cracked software getting flagged by your system. It’s good to check and see if others have had a problem with this particular torrent before - Reddit threads from 2008 are your long dead friends.

And that’s about it. Feel free to correct me if anything I’ve recommended is malicious or outright wrong. I’ve been doing this for years and haven’t had an active problem to my knowledge, so if there is something fishy with how I do things, I am a statistical outlier and should not be counted.

I wish you smooth sailing and strong winds in your ventures me hearties!

Obligatory ‘don’t pirate small author’s or artist’s works what the fuck dude’ statement.

#ra speaks #piracy #pirating #pirate to make hondo ohnaka proud #I’ve seen so many people on my streaming piracy post bemoaning that they don’t know how like !!!! #congrats you get to learn without the middle school trial and error phase we zillenials had (RIP family computer 2004-2009) #I genuinely think piracy has gotten easier/safer than it used to be. that or I’ve gotten smarter. which is also likely.

[genericpuff]

Hi! Maybe this is a difficult question with no answer, but as a fan of Rekindled who might want to start their own comic, what do you suggest to avoid burnout? Do you start wiht writting the script right away, you doodle a bit,..? Thanks for reading, I love how you draw big noses, makes me more comfy with mine!

no fr my dark secret is that i've been experiencing burnout with my main original project that I've spent the last decade working on for literally a year now. this isn't the first long hiatus i've taken, the longest one i've ever been on has lasted two years, and it's undoubtedly not the last i'll experience because the lump of salt and fat and tissue that is my brain often overworks itself into exhaustion like a big dummy

rekindled has been my reprieve from the burnout. it has been my vacation from years of working on the same project, meeting the same deadlines, drawing the same characters, over and over and over again since before i was in college.

if there's anything working on rekindled has made clear to me, it's that i'm still capable of drawing comics. the comic-making isn't the problem. it's just that when you work on the same project for years and trap yourself in an uphill battle, eventually your climbing gear is bound to break.

if there's another thing that rekindled has opened my eyes to, it's the insanity that i put myself through prior to rekindled that led to my burnout in the first place.

i get people telling me that they couldn't imagine doing what i do, that even before i had my assistant helping me out, i was still able to put out 30-40 panel updates every week.

but before that, i was putting out 70-90 panel episodes of my original work. every week. full color. full spread action scenes. no assistant. very little financial gain aside from a couple patrons on patreon and one dedicated viewer on twitch, which i was also streaming on 2-3 times a week.

and now that i've been working on rekindled and even finding myself often crunched for time with that, i have zero clue, no idea, a complete lack of comprehension of how i pulled off 70-90 panels a week for months on end. there's a reason it resulted in burnout and i know that now. this comparison is not for the sake of a flex - this comparison is to make it clear that much of what i do isn't the norm and isn't exactly a healthy standard. case in point, i sneezed while sweeping up yesterday morning and it caused a muscle strain in my lower back/hips and i've been working out of my bed since, i'm in a lot of pain and it might mean i don't make any money this week if it's not better by the time i have to do my appointments at my day job on thursday. my need to create my personal passion projects is often at odds with my bad habits of not taking care of myself 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。

when it comes to tackling burnout, your guess is as good as mine. really it just comes down to rest. when burnout - real, true burnout - hits, it's not just "man i'm bored of working on this", it's "i can't even think of looking at this thing let alone working on it", it's basically akin to depression and it's an awful thing that i wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy (even with Rachel, I don't want to psychoanalyze her mental health but it does seem like she's possibly been experiencing burnout with LO for years now and that really sucks for her if that's true). so the solution is just as complicated as the cause, it's not something that you can just rest from for a week and come back from, it takes real long-term healing.

when I found my way out of that 2 year hiatus, it was in spring of 2019 and I decided to just work on a random comic page that wasn't even in the comic I was working on. and then suddenly it was like a switch flicked back into the on position and i didn't even finish what i was working on, i just went back to my original project and i kept working on it until it was finally finished at the end of 2021. as suddenly and randomly as it had set in, it was gone. but i can't just do the same thing this time, it just doesn't work that way.

that said, through all this, i've learned that my need to create is not restricted to any one tangible thing, i'm not doomed or designed to stick with the same words, the same faces, the same ideas until the end of time. while i do try to keep up healthy routines for myself to ensure i'm looking out for my future self and their deadlines and their upload schedules, sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. and in my case, the heart wanted to take a break from the self-reflective psychological analysis dark fantasy weebo stuff and just draw some pink and blue characters a little less ugly. the self-reflective weebo shit will still be there when i'm done with the pink and blue stuff, and i'll surely have loads of new things to unpack through it once i return.

there are still times when i'm working on rekindled and i'm feeling the creeping hand of my routine destruction digging its claws into my back. the reality is that 30-40 panels is still a lot for someone like myself who's doing this entirely for free, but my definition of normal for a while was so insanely inhumane that even what's still considered a lot by most people's standards feels sane and normal to me after what i put myself through.

i've learned to be more gentle with myself, and to loosen my own expectations of what i'm capable of to ensure i don't do anything like that to myself, by myself, again. i give myself room to create without expectations or the pressure of eyes watching when i can, and i remind myself that even if burnout rears its head again, and again, and again, the will to create is not gone. it's just tired, and resting, and growing, and healing as i am.

anyways that turned into a self-reflective essay post, to answer your question about making stuff ahead of time, i find that's more helpful with just like, planning out a structured story (so you don't write yourself into a corner) but whether or not it helps with burnout kind of depends. because it can just as also easily be the cause of the problem because constantly seeing the stuff you wanna be drawing so far away can be just as much of a morale killer as a motivator. some of the stuff i'm super psyched to write and draw with time gate is years away and that timeline grows longer the more the burnout goes on which makes the struggle feel even more overwhelming and pointless and defeating. so plan ahead, but keep it all within your means if you can. i find what works for me is planning out just general beat-to-beat plot structures (to ensure i at least have a plot skeleton going on so i know where i'm going) then i leave the finer details to when the actual episode i've planned gets closer to fruition and i can get myself in the headspace to write it fully.

also remember that just because you're really excited and motivated to work on your comic doesn't mean you should work yourself into exhaustion - it's a good thing if you're going through the mundane of your daily routine and the whole time you're hyped af to work on your hobby/personal project/etc. because that's what will keep you moving forward, so don't spend all that hype in one place by working and working and working until you're exhausted, because that hype is REALLY hard to get back after you've spent it all.

long post over! hope that helps! best of luck in your projects! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

#also aaah thank you for the nose compliment haha #i love drawing different kinds of noses <3 #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything #self post

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #35 | 09.26.23

Hi everyone!

Hope the beginning of Fall has been kind to you all <3 To be Frank, it has not been Kind to me LMFAO. But I'll get into that, so let's dive in yippee!

Before I do, someone liked this post recently, which was such a throwback. It was before the full demo was out and everything!! I was so young and full of life. I'm going to sprinkle some comparison shots of the new assets with the old ones to break up the text and also walk down memory lane with me! (Full GUI not shown as I'm still waiting on the assets)

Chapter Cards (Left: After | Right: Before)

The "Progress"

I'm going to structure this devlog a little differently from the usual template. The main reason being, for those of you who didn't see, I have not been feeling Myself recently.

This month I found myself all out of sorts. While I felt like I was making progress and doing so much everyday read: fighting for my life, when I looked back on things at the end of this month, I didn't feel like I really did much.

On a higher level, I finished fulfilling Kickstarter physical rewards, opened a Kofi shop of the remaining merch, edited Druk's route and continued writing Etza's route, updated assets and code for the updated demo, and then general commission stuff (BGs from Vui, soundtracks from Peter, etc.).

But overall, Alaris felt largely like it was kinda sitting at around the same spot as it did when I entered this month. Which made me a little sad! I had wanted to make So Much Progress on Alaris because next month I won't be able to work on it really. Then, I realized I haven't taken a break from game development since I started it two years ago HA!!!

The Real Progress

Development for me has been back-to-back. Chapter releases every 1-2 months during my first half year of development, Full Demo release shortly after, Kickstarter shortly after, Full Game Development shortly after. When I was feeling burnt out from Alaris, I made intertwine. Then I was Heavily Involved in the development of two games shortly after.

All of this on top of my IRL responsibilities, which include a job, PhD school, and well, functioning as a normal human occasionally.

And then here we are at the end of September 2023, and I'm wondering why even though I creatively want to work on Alaris, I find my brain literally just getting too tired to think.

Etza CG (Left: After | Right: Before)

I think ever since the Kickstarter, I've put a lot of pressure on myself to consistently put out LOTS of updates for each monthly devlog. I don't want people to think I'm not working on things or I'm not committed to delivering after giving me their hard earned money. But now, with two years under my belt, I'm realizing that is... HMM maybe too high of a standard to put on myself for my first game ever. There are many much more seasoned developers than me who don't put that pressure on themselves (which is Good and Healthy).

So this month, I debated scrounging around and gathering all my crumbs to give you all a devlog that you'll be satisfied with. But I decided ultimately that wouldn't be good for me and would honestly not be the most transparent way to present the current process of things.

And so. Here I am. Head in my Hands. Letting you all know that while I'm not "burnt out," I am.... only human LOL (one human at that). And so some months, like this one, will just not have much progress to report. Not because I'm not working on it or any other deeper reason. But because it's physically impossible and unreasonable for me to be continuously pushing out a steady stream of content.

In-Game Sprites & BGs (Left: After | Right: Before)

Next month, I'lll be taking a vacation. It's actually my first Big, Official one in a Long Time! I'm very excited for it. And while I did initially think about working on Alaris while I was traveling on trains or things like that, I decided to respect my own need to be a Human and just take a break for once in my life. I don't even want to say I Might work on things, because that sentiment alone will pressure me to make some progress. So yes. Next month, there will be no devlog or updates. But please rest assured, I am "working on Alaris" by letting myself just Exist and Rest Up!

Not an Alaris screenshot but it is market research that deserves to be included because I played House in Fata Morgana recently and it was Phenomenal!

Thank you all for understanding and your continued support. I'm extremely appreciative to have such a kind and patient community. Hope you all have a wonderful October filled with Fall Treats, and I'll see you in November! <3

#alaris #devlog

[renchant]

What's happening?

heres some context before i get into what happened november 23rd

delilah made her tweet about quitting content creation about a month ago

(she did come back but its still important she made this post at all.)

people noticed she had unfollowed zam, wasn't friends with him on discord anymore, etc. which was very surprising as they had been very close before as far as we could tell.

she even left the kaboodlesmp without, as far as i know, a proper goodbye stream within lore. the account just quietly unfollowed her in october and said goodbye to her alongside ivory and ivo in a tweet made at the end of the season.

we didn't know what was happening, but it was clear (atleast to me and my friends) that SOMETHING was going on behind the scenes.

exactly a month after delilah made her tweet shown above, which was 2 days ago as im posting this, delilah posts this tweet about princezam being emotionally abusive.

im going to be including alot of interactions that happened under this tweet, and related things, because i think its important to see EVERYTHING.

I apologize if the formatting is messy and hard to follow, tumblr doesn't let me properly rearrange images for whatever reason.

bormethius immediately replied with these tweets

he also had this interaction with someone under that tweet

& posted this on his alt

Delilah and Bormethius had this interaction under Bormethius's original reply to her tweet

Thats where Bormethius's response ends currently.

Subz's replied to the original Delilah tweet with this

And replied to her tweet asking Bormethius what she lied about with this.

Subz said these things in his discord server. These screenshots are from my friends so I don't know the full conversation or context, but I think they're important to include regardless. These are taken November 23rd/24th

That's what Subz has said. He might've said more in his discord but I'm not going to go looking for more. If anyone wants to look for more, you're welcome to.

vPluto replied this to Delilah's original tweet, which Delilah later hid.

Delilah responded with this

Delilah had this interaction with someone under that tweet

vPluto also retweet Bormethius's original reply to Delilah, and that's where his response ends.

Coinmonke replied to Delilah's original tweet

Delilah responded with this

These are screenshots of messages between Delilah and Coinmonke

Do with this information what you will. Zam has yet to say anything about all of this, and Delilah & Bormethius both seem to be making documents about whats been going on the past few months.

There are some people claiming to have known Zam in highschool and that he was a massive bully, but I will try and add that in a reblog, or a seperate post, at some point since I personally haven't looked at all the information there and wanna make sure I get that all down accurately and this post is already getting really long.

UPDATE NOVEMBER 26TH: Zam has released a statement saying that Delilah was the one who emotionally abused him and has provided screenshots in his statement. You can read it here.

#tw abuse #tw emotional abuse