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slots-a-fun · 6 months

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The Terrace Rooms At The Cosmopolitan Las Vegas

You just have to try the Cosmo terrace rooms at least once in your life, or multiple times/year like us :p

Well, gather ’round, my fellow Vegas aficionados, for I’m about to spin a yarn about the rise of the mighty Cosmopolitan and what came before it. You see, long before the Cosmo graced the iconic Las Vegas Strip, there was a tale of demolitions and dreams. Once upon a time, the space that the Cosmopolitan now claims as its own was occupied by the ill-fated Jockey Club, a relic of the 1970s. This…

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beuatifulbuttercup · 9 months

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incorrect quotes of random ships from background pjo characters bc I have no life

Sherman: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized. Miranda: steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely Sherman: That one. I want that one.

Ellis: Two brooooos! Cecil: Chillin' in a hot tub! Ellis: Five feet apart 'cause we're not gay! Cecil: Ellis: Cecil: tearing up Ellis: Babe, c'mon… Cecil: AND HERE YOU REALLY HAD ME THINKING WE HAD SOMETHING. Ellis: Babe…

Valentina: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt. Austin: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit.

Drew: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives. Nyssa: I wake up at 4:30 AM every day to go to the forges. Drew: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

Travis: I’m in love with you. Katie: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork. Travis: I know. Katie: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Mitchell: The first time I saw you, you stole my heart. Connor: But I'm a kleptomaniac, so that doesn't mean anything.

EXTRA

Lou Ellen: Too many songs about love. Not nearly enough songs about magic fights.

#sheranda #sherman yang x miranda gardiner #cecellis #cecil markowitz x ellis wakefield #valentina diaz x austin lake #valstin? autina? idk I made them up #dryssa #drew tanaka x nyssa barrera #tratie #katie gardner x travis stoll #conchell #Mitchell x Connor stoll #lou ellen blackstone #she's the local aroace of the group

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punknicodiangelo · 7 months

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Chthonic Kids Moodboards

This time including Walt Stone and some of Hermes' kids cause he's a psychopomp

IDs are in alt text and will tell you who each one is for

#pjo #chthonic kids #f slur tw #knife tw #nico di angelo #lou ellen blackstone #hazel levesque #alice miyazawa #clovis pjo #damien white #walt stone #julia feingeld #cecil markowitz #i will make this group happen so help me g-d #i am a jewish

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mckezny · 2 years

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lou ellen: How is the most beautiful person in the world?

cecil: *blushing* I—

will, butting into the conversation: nico is perfect, thanks for asking.

#nico di angelo #will solace #lou ellen blackstone #cecil markowitz #solangelo #loucil #i don’t ship them #but this was too cute #i love this group #so so much #we need a reunion #in the solangelo book #maybe?#hopefully

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neyatimes · 9 months

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Stock market today: Live updates

Traders work on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange (NYSE) in New York City, July 19, 2023. Brendan McDermid | Reuters Nasdaq 100 futures slipped Wednesday evening after Netflix posted its latest quarterly results. Nasdaq 100 futures dipped 0.41%. S&P 500 futures slipped 0.14%, while Dow futures hovered near the flat line. Shares of Netflix dropped 8% in after-hours action after the…

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#American Airlines Group Inc #Blackstone Inc #Breaking News: Markets #business news #Dow Jones Fut (Mar&x27;23)#Dow Jones Industrial Average #Economic events #Johnson & Johnson #Markets #NASDAQ 100 Fut (Mar&x27;23)#NASDAQ Composite #Netflix Inc #S&P 500 Fut (Mar&x27;23)#S&P 500 Index #Tesla Inc #Travelers Companies Inc

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bargainsleuthbooks · 1 year

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A Conspiracy in Belgravia (Lady Sherlock #2) by Sherry Thomas #BookReview

I love a twist on a traditional Sherlock Holmes story, so the Lady Sherlock series piqued my interest. Would the series retain the spirit of the original stories? #LadySherlock #CharlotteHolmes #SherryThomas #sherlockholmes #bookreview #audiobook

Being shunned by Society gives Charlotte Holmes the time and freedom to put her extraordinary powers of deduction to good use. As “Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective,” aided by the capable Mrs. Watson, she’s had great success helping with all manner of inquiries, but she’s not prepared for the new client who arrives at her Upper Baker Street office. Lady Ingram, wife of Charlotte’s dear…

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#221B Baker Street #A Conspiracy in Belgravia #Berkley Press #Blackstone Audio #Charlotte Holmes #Lady Sherlock #Mystery #Penguin Group #Sherlock Holmes #Sherry Thomas

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the-final-sif · 2 years

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Piglins offer things of use in exchange for gold. They give you boots enchanted to allow easy passage over the land of souls that they avoid. They give you iron, gravel, fire charges, and obsidian, a quiet but clear message (just in case you need to go home). They give leather, arrows, string, basic supplies to keep you going. They give the same blackstone they've built their homes from (in case you might want to build a home here too).

Piglin know how to brew potions. They have bottles of water and fire resistance potions and they'll offer both to strangers that pay. They grow nether wart in the ruins of their homes. There is no natural nether wart to be found in the nether. Only what the piglins grow, and what can be found in the gardens of Fortress. It is the base of all potions, one of two essentials that must be farmed.

The other essential is blaze powder. Piglins must have some, they make potions after all, but they have no farms for it. Not anymore.

But there are fortresses. Fortresses built around blaze spawners. Fortresses with gardens of nether wart. Fortresses that were built and than abandoned. Chests with scraps of supplies left behind.

These fortresses are made of bricks. Netherrack bricks blocks, holding strong after all these years. These bricks aren't found naturally in the nether outside of fortresses. You can craft them yourself, or you can get them from one other source.

Piglins will offer you netherrack bricks. They have them. You won't find it in their bastions. But they will offer them all the same. They still remember how to make them. Maybe they used to build with them, once, a long time ago.

Piglins will wander into fortresses, but they do not call them home. Wither Skeletons do. Wither skeletons infest the fortresses, roaming around as if this is their home.

Piglins will hunt hoglins in groups, but there's no inherent hostility. Their children play together regardless of their parents quarrels. Hoglins are food, but not an enemy. Wither skeletons are not food. Yet Piglins are hostile to wither skeletons without provocation. A wither skeleton is known to be dangerous, is known to be a threat. A pest infesting a stolen home.

When offered gold, Piglins will give you many items. Things to keep you going, to help you get home, to help you stay where you are. But in that list, they will also offer netherrack bricks and ender pearls. Oddities in the lineup. Both have their uses, but both also send a message (if you want to go where they did, here's a hint, a helping hand. perhaps in hopes you will find something there they could not, or perhaps in hope you will manage to come back safely. whose to say).

#mineblr #piglins #minecraft lore #minecraft #thinking about them (minecraft piglins)#and why they offer netherrack breaks and farm netherwart #they have house units #they had apartments #they have art #i want them to be well #sif speaks #sif writes #did you know baby piglins run away from wither skeletons #they know to be afraid #i want to hold them carefully

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3rdeyeblaque · 8 months

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On August 30th we venerate Young King Brother Fred Hampton on his 75th birthday 🎉

Deputy Chairman Fred Hampton was the one of THE greatest orators, leaders, and visionaries to join the Black Panther Party Of Self-Defense 🖤✊🏾

Fred Hampton was born & raised in the Chicago suburbs of Illinois. Civil liberties, rights, and laws were always of great interest to him. After graduating high school, he enrolled in a pre-law program at Triton Junior College in River Grove, Illinois. He joined his local NAACP branch to get involved in the civil rights movement. He rose to the position of Youth Council President for his strong leadership and organization skills. In this position, Brother Hampton mobilized a racially diverse group of 500 young men/women who successfully lobbied city officials to create better academic services and recreational facilities for Black American youth.

In 1968, he joined the Black Panther Party of Self-Defense, headquartered in Oakland, CA. Shortly thereafter, he was selected to head the Chicago Chapter. Here, he created strong personal and political ties with his mentor & chaplain, Father George Clements at the [then] Holy Angels Catholic Church; which served as a safe haven for the Panthers targeted for police surveillance or harassment.

Brother Hampton accomplished a great many things as a young, prolific leader of the BPP Chicago Chapter. He successfully negotiated a gang truce on live television.One of his greatest successes was an unprecedentedly integrated approach to sociopolitical unity; he formed a “Rainbow Coalition”, which included: the Students for a Democratic Society, the Blackstone Rangers, a street gang and the National Young Lords, a local Puerto Rican organization. He was the first leading Panther to achieve this. This alliance is what truly struck the cord of fear in the Chicago P.D. & the FBI. In an effort to neutralize the Chicago Chapter of the BPP, the Black Panthers were placed under heavy surveillance & were subjected to several harassment campaigns.

By 1969, several Black Panthers and Chicago cops either suffered injury or were killed in shootouts across the city, which resulted in the arrest of over 100 members. On Dec 4th of that same year, under the FBI's initiative, the County PD & Chicago PD conducted heinous, unlawful, and unnecessary raid on the Black Panther Party's HQ in the early morning hours while Brother Hampton, leader Mark Clark, and other Panthers slept. They fired over 100 rounds into the apartment without warning. Twelve officers executed Brother Hampton as he slept, drugged by a sedative slipped into his drink by "Panther"/FBI informant O'Neal. Naturally, in Jan 1970, the County Coroner's office ruled the Black Panther leaders' deaths as "justifiable homicide".

Over 5,000 souls attended Brother Hampton’s funeral. Many civil rights activates eulogized him, including his good friend and mentor Father George, who also held a Requem Mass for him at his church.

After many years of coverups, internal investigations, lawsuits, raids, and conspiracies confirmed, the FBI, County PD, & Chicago PD finally admitted to the wrongful deaths of Brother Hampton and Mark Clark. In 1990, and again in 2004, the Chicago City Council passed resolutions commemorating December 4th as Fred Hampton Day. Today, Brother Hampton rests at the Bethel Cemetery in Haynesville, LA where his parents are from - which continues to endure violent desecration from White Supremacist vigilantes/supporters.

" You can kill a revolutionary but you can never kill the revolution. People have to be armed to have power" - Young King Fred Hampton

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his love of our people, his relentless dedication to the BPP cause, and his young yet wise spirit that lives on. May be the find restful peace in spirit that he was/is denied in the physical.

Offering suggestions: flower offerings at his grave, libations of water, prayers and frankincense toward his elevation

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atr #atrs #the hoodoo calendar #the black panthers #Fred hampton #Chicago #black panther party #BPP #ancestor elevation #ancestor veneration

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azspot · 2 months

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Private equity firms are buying up the US economy and stripping it for parts. From healthcare to education, utilities, and more, massive firms like Blackstone and the Carlyle Group have acquired vast holdings across critical industries essential to the health and well-being of everyday people. Instead of seeking to make these ventures more profitable, private equity firms are more likely to orchestrate to bleed their assets for short-term gains—even if those assets are univerisites, hospitals, or nursing homes.

How Private Equity Conquered America

#privateequity

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apricitystudies · 1 year

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what i read in dec. 2022:

(previous editions) bold = favourite

class, race, & labour

the philippines’ dangerous dependence on the exploitation of its people

the blackstone rebellion: how one country took on the world’s biggest commercial landlord (denmark)

reliance on hi-tech solutions to climate crisis perpetuates racism

china’s army of retirees seek return to work as economic toll on their families mounts

how professionalism is used as a tool for racism

gender, sexuality, & intersectionality

reclaiming dignity, reasserting agency: female labour migration in indonesia

for transgender students, a safe space in university halls is ‘great comfort’ — but not a given (singapore)

you should have been listening to octavia butler this whole time

how to be a slut

politics & current affairs

peru lawmakers propose bill to strip indigenous people of protections

the night raids (usa/afghanistan)

how a massacre of nearly 300 in syria was revealed

the cartel, the journalist and the gangland killings that rocked the netherlands

hundreds of members of extremist group oath keepers worked for us department of homeland security

japan's militarisation gets a boost from ukraine war despite pacifist constitution

history, culture, & media

barbara johns: the us' forgotten civil rights hero

‘i’m afraid one day it’s going to go’: saving singapore’s old buildings one photograph at a time

drugs killed 8 friends, one by one, in a tragedy seen across the us

seventy-five years after indian partition, who owns the narrative?

aristocrat inc.

HUMAN_FALLBACK

#studyblr #studyspo #university #productivity #academia #reading list #reading lists #student #myresources

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betweenlands · 7 months

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[clears throat]

If you’ve recently watched one or more of Legundo’s 100 Days videos, you might have some questions – questions like what’s with all the eyes, who the heck is Decem, what’s an Alteran, how do I get involved in the ARG, why is there chess happening, can I get off Legundo’s wild ride yet, et cetera. This post seeks to answer most of those questions in as straightforward a manner as possible (can’t help with the last one, though – you’re stuck here now!), while also sticking as close as possible to only canon information in order for people to form their own theories. Basically, consider it a brief lore primer for everything 100 Days Multiverse!

But first, a few disclaimers:

This is gonna be a long post. It's going under a readmore. If readmores don't work for you I'm sorry.

This is copied from a WIP document of ours that attempts to record pretty much everything going on in the series, which necessarily means it will at some point become outdated. (Time check: this post was made on 10/14/2023. There are still at least 2 puzzles that haven't been solved yet.) If anything significant comes up I'll try to add it to the summary and therefore that document, but there isn't anything yet.

There will be a lot of “might”, “possibly”, “may or may not have”, “somewhat implied to”, and other various caveats throughout this post. We don’t have a lot of information explicitly stated to be canon at the moment, and while a lot of things seem like sure bets, there’s no telling how unreliable these narrators might be. We don’t like claiming things are canon unless we’re 100% sure that’s the truth, so there’s a lot of weasel words in this summary. You’ll have to forgive us for this one – we prefer to be precise over definitive whenever possible. (And we apologize for not having cited sources here -- if something's incorrect, please call us on it!)

Finally: there is a more official lore document! It contains more details on pretty much everything here, focuses more on puzzle-solving, and also contains a great theorycrafting section -- you can read that here (and thank you to Lucid for creating it!)

Okay. Enough preamble. Let's get into the thick of it.

Legundo has been traveling the multiverse for a while, hopping from modded world to modded world from where he left his S2 Hardcore world behind. He seems to have at least some amount of partial amnesia, as he starts to remember things about his past over time, but to begin with he doesn’t remember (or at least doesn’t seem to remember) where he came from.

Legundo is also not alone – he’s being followed. Strange monoliths appear in certain worlds, made of blackstone/gilded blackstone when “dormant” and obsidian/crying obsidian when “active”. He speaks to these at first as though they can help him, but gradually becomes more and more suspicious of them, and eventually comes to realize they are harbingers of a group of entities/entity called Decem.

Decem has a history with Legundo that unravels throughout the course of the series. They have several associated motifs in addition to the monoliths/crying obsidian – most notably among them are eyes (especially Dimensional Doors) and usage of chess terminology/general references to chess. They also have a custom musical leitmotif -- current link to it here. (You'll usually be able to hear this one or something similar playing around when he stumbles across a monolith, I'm pretty sure.)

Despite “Decem” meaning “ten”, there are actually nine entities in the group, called Aspects. Each Aspect is associated with a different color and has a different title:

the Warrior, red

the Seer, orange

the Historian, yellow

the Merchant, green

the Senator, cyan

the Philosopher, purple

the Noble, pink

the Scientist, grey

the Wizard, black

Members of Decem are prone to infighting and general disagreements on how to solve their problems, especially the problem of Legundo; apparently, at some point Legundo was a member of the group himself, called the Architect and by process of elimination associated with the color blue. Decem seem to want Legundo back, but also don’t seem to fully agree on what method of doing this will be best. Legundo is also not particularly happy about this, referring to his cycle of modded worldhopping as a sort of prison, but he doesn’t seem to remember much (if any) of his past as the Architect.

When the world download for Hardcore S2 was released, viewers were made aware of a new faction, called the Alterans, who appear to be in direct conflict with Decem. While Decem claim that the Alterans are trying to “hide the truth” from us, the Alterans imply that they view their conflict with Decem as a desperate bid for survival (though they do also refer to it as a game of chess). At some point, they did something “ridiculous” as of yet unclear; they also apparently hosted the amnesiac Legundo at some point. Apparently, they were largely against telling him anything about where he came from, although they did “leave him his name” despite it being supposedly risky. It’s unclear if they are the cause of Legundo’s amnesia and/or his leaving Decem, but they certainly don’t want him to remember anything more than he already has. (As of Undercover, it seems extremely likely they are at the very least the cause of the Architect’s fall.)

Decem has a tendency to speak directly to viewers of 100 Days Multiverse videos, especially when Legundo dies or when other glitches occur. When this happens, they tend to leave links to hidden videos/audio clips and/or puzzles that lead to these things. As of right now, they appear to be offering the viewers who have solved their puzzles some sort of job, and may also be showing up on the viewer SMP during its fifth season (the chronology of this is very unclear – see Undercover). It’s unclear what this position within Decem entails, although given their chess motif it’s probably not an unreasonable assumption to say that they are recruiting new pawns.

#100 days multiverse #100 days hardcore #legundo #100dmv #yt #txt #dominioners #orig #solar scraps #solar scrawls #woooh it feels good to just have this entire Chunk of text out here

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mckezny · 2 years

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lou ellen: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.

will: Throw rocks at he.

cecil: Hot Dogs.

nico: Kill him.

lou ellen: Thanks guys.

#i love this group #get them back together rick #they were iconic #nico di angelo #will solace #lou ellen blackstone #cecil markowitz #the blood of olympus #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #incorrect quotes #solangelo

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taevbears · 8 months

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Magic Shop - 09

One day, when I wake up at 3:00AM, unable to sleep, I will look next to me and you will be there, Sleeping peacefully beside me. And suddenly, the world won't seem so lonely.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Jimin/Yoongi focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.5k ⤑ warnings: implied smut, interrupted foreplay, heavy angst, oppression against mages, jimin as a warning himself tbh ⤑ note: surprise!! i took a few months off from writing this story to pursue other story ideas, but i ended up wanting to come back to this one lol. i have another story in the works, but i do plan to start posting semi-regularly for this series again soon ^^ i hope you guys enjoy! this takes place right after the final of pt 1.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

From the distance, the haunting, sonorous tolls of church bells ring in the hour for the sleeping town of New Haven.

Once. Twice. Three times.

3:00AM. The witching hour.

Monsters and magic are most active at this time of night. Their connection to the Veil – a realm of dreams and demons – is at its strongest peak, opening a window of chaos and mayhem and spilling them into the living world.

For mortals like Park Jimin, the witching hour is dangerous. Humans become prey to these abominations. Kidnapped and sacrificed, they become targets of dark magic, tortured for a mage’s sadistic greed and pleasure.

By law, those cursed with magic are condemned to their high towers and impenetrable castles. But there are some who’ve managed to escape their confinements. Who’ve garnered sympathy from fools they’ve bewitched, and who’ve hidden their unnatural powers to inconspicuously blend in with human villagers.

That’s when the hunters come in.

While the wardens are busy keeping the monsters locked away, allowing them to practice tricks and spells deemed safe by the Devoted, and silently killing them through deadly trials like the Harrowing, it’s the hunters that protect the towns and villages from mages outside their gilded prisons. People who, without law or regulation, take matters into their own hands when facing the Wicked.

History speaks of the war between humans and mages. The human sacrifices, the stolen blood of innocents, the dark summonings, the ominous hauntings, the deals with devils. Magic, after all, is the root of all evil.

And the latest of these horrendous acts is what happened at Blackstone Castle.

Several apprentices rebelled against the teachings of the Devoted and performed a forbidden summoning. The mutiny caused mages to attack the wardens, unleash creatures beyond nightmares into the mortal realm, and escape the castle’s defenses. The leader of the apostate group is rumored to have transformed into a hideous beast that the Warden-Commander had successfully defeated, but by the time the monster was slain, it was too late. Many mages have fled from Blackstone and found refuge in nearby villages, causing fear and suspicion to strike within the communities.

Any mage, surrounded by the temptations of the mortal realm, is a dangerous threat.

Two months ago, when news of Blackstone Castle hit the capital, there was no doubt in his mind what he must do: he had to return to his hometown in New Haven, make sure there aren’t any mages infiltrating his town, and eliminate the ones he finds.

With the key to his grandmother’s floral shop and the blessings of his family from the capital, Jimin returned to town, surprised to see not much had changed since he was last there.

Except for one thing.

The unnamed shop across the street.

The one odd place in town, full of mystery and wonder. What once was ruins and a disarray of abandonment is now warm and cozy with whimsy and comfort. Colorful and mix-mashed, yet in a way that works together. Like it was made of magic.

And, to his dismay, the cutest shop owner he’s ever seen works there. One that he’s hopelessly fallen head-over-heels with.

Even though he highly suspects that you are, ironically, the very thing he hunts down.

Jimin reminds himself of that as he sits back on a chair and faces the bed. Under the gleam of moonlight, the dagger in his hand shines. Embedded in the blade are ancient symbols of the Devoted. Once penetrated, it will render even the strongest mage useless, temporarily paralyzing them from using their powers as the effects of the enchanted markings sink in.

An heirloom and a prized possession of the Park family. One that his father used when he became a hero of the town. One that his grandfather used to kill the mage that murdered his parents. And now, one that belongs to him.

He flips the nullifying weapon in his hand over and over. Keeping it close to him, just in case.

In case you suddenly wake – snapping your eyes wide open, the colors of your pupils turning into an eerie, bright gold – and lunge toward him in inhuman speed. In case you levitate off the bed and hurl things flying in his direction. In case the devil’s mark sears red on your skin during the witching hour and turns you into one of them.

Wicked.

Like those corrupted mages – easily trading their souls for wealth, beauty, power, and fame – that the Devoted has warned them about. Like the ones he’s seen attack humans with their unnatural strength and twisted powers. Like the ones who had surely killed his parents.

After all, magic is the root of all things evil.

And you, a mage, are a monster. A human vessel that will inevitably succumb to the darkness and unleash chaos into the world with your cursed power.

His eyebrows furrow together and a deep frown is set on his plush lips

You – the most evil, dangerous, wicked thing to ever exist – continue to sleep soundly on his bed, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. The black dahlia – doused with potent lavender extract – is disposed of, but it’s already done its job. Keeping you unconscious. Keeping you vulnerable. Right where he wants you.

Time ticks on and Jimin tightens his grip on the dagger. He has to act, and he has to do it fast. He’s certain once the sleeping effect wears off, you’ll attack him.

One minute passes. Then, two. Then, three more.

Abruptly, Jimin stands with the dagger at hand. The chair legs scoot back against the wooden floorboards as he steps closer to you, blinking away the drowsiness from the potent side-effects of the flower.

Was he wrong?

No, he’s certain you’re one of them. He’s certain that one or more of them in that shop are like you as well. Mages and monsters.

Yet, there’s no trace of a golden glow in your eyes. No objects suddenly falling out of shelves, no picture frames or doorknobs rattling, no unexplained knocks or whispers. No faded bite mark that a demon left as a claim on your skin.

His fingers barely touch your neck when you make a sound.

A moan.

Of someone’s name.

Jimin freezes, eyes wide as he looks at your sleeping face. He can’t be certain if you said his name or—

A chuckle of disbelief comes from his lips and he runs his fingers through his hair. This should be easy. Insultingly so.

Yet, Jimin finds himself sitting back on the chair and facing his bed for the fourth time that night. He’s had that dagger in his hand since you fell asleep hours ago. He has every intent to kill you and the others in that shop.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he silently takes you in. The distinct features of your face that he likes, the way your lips part slightly as you sleep, the slow sound of your breath and the way your eyelashes touch the top of your cheeks. The way the moonlight is cast upon your bare skin, almost making you look ethereal in the night.

He thinks about earlier that afternoon, when you came to his shop, picking flowers to lay out a message of apology and confession. He thinks about the genuine surprise in your face when he admits that he loves you too, that you already have his heart. He thinks about how he meant what he said too.

And as the shop closes and the afternoon rolls into evening, he thinks about his hand in yours as he leads you upstairs to his room. He thinks about your shy giggles when he kisses your neck, your collarbone, and the top of your breasts until you start to remove your clothes for him. And as Jimin takes in your body, he whispers that you’re beautiful without realizing the words came out of his mouth.

This should’ve been easy. If he had known you were a mage sooner, before he caught any feelings for you, perhaps this would have been different.

But tonight, Jimin sheaths the enchanted dagger and lets you live for one more night.

Your dreams. They always start like this.

High walls of a strong, impenetrable fortress made of dark brick and stone. Willow trees in the courtyard, and a prism of sunlight peeking through the weeping, green leaves. Rows of old books stacked together on long shelves with worn bindings and stain-aged pages. Faceless apprentices in uniformed robes, passing through the candle-lit hallways from one lecture to another, their disembodied voices echoing down the long passageways. Plated armor and concealed weapons of guards that look down at you with disdain.

Blackstone Castle.

Once upon a time, that place was all you’ve ever known. An institution where you’ve excelled too well in the classroom lessons and teachings. Where your exposure to the outside world is limited through words on paper and stories from fellow apprentices of what they could remember before coming to the castle. A so-called home where you had the promising future of becoming one of the best enchanters among your peers.

You lean back against your chair in the lecture room. Notes in your handwriting are on the desk, detailed with whatever you thought is important to note. You tilt your head, frowning a bit in confusion as your hand continues to write.

You’re … actually not sure what you’re taking notes on. The longer you look at the scribbled words, the more ineligible they appear.

The sound of giggling catches your attention. When you glance at the source of the noise, you drop the quill in shock.

Mina?

At the back of the lecture room, Hoseok and your old roommate are snuggled together. Neither of them are paying attention to the lesson, shamelessly making out and touching each other through their clothes. You see her running her hand through his hair and tugging him closer as their tongues slip in each other’s mouths. Although they’re sitting a bit far, you could hear Hoseok as if he’s right next to you. You hear him tell her, “It should’ve been you that made it out of the Harrowing instead.”

“Hoseok?” you utter, your voice pathetically soft. Why would he say that?

When you finally force yourself to look away, Namjoon stands before you. No longer are you in a lecture room, but at the library. His face is completely neutral. Guarded. He asks you, “What is it that you want?”

“I just…” you begin, but before you could answer, he pushes you down on the table.

“I’m not your boyfriend. I couldn’t care less about what we are,” Namjoon tells you as he pins you down. His hand flips up the end of your dress. “There’s only one thing I want from you.”

When you exhale, it’s shaky. Like you’re trying not to sob.

Before anything happens, Namjoon is shoved away. When you turn around, you’re in the ritual room. Seokjin has his hands full, fighting beastly creatures from the Veil with a sword and shield. He shouts for your help, and it takes you a moment to process that you’re in the middle of a battle.

You need a weapon.

The tower rumbles and debris falls from the ceiling. Your heart races as you look through the rubble for a wand, a tome, anything to help Seokjin.

But you’re too late.

An anguish scream cuts you deeper than any blade. Panic and fear seizes your entire body as you watch him slump to the ground. The battlefield is deathly quiet, and you’re sitting there, alone, cradling his head on your lap and crying apologies for what feels like hours.

“Scary.”

Through your tears, you see one other person standing in the distance. You sniffle when you recognize who it is. “Jungkook?”

“You did that to him,” Jimin says from the other side of the room, opposite of where Jungkook is. “You couldn’t save him. This is your fault.”

“I know, but—”

“Scary,” Jungkook repeats, both of them looking at you like you’re something evil. Black smoke swallows them whole, thick as clouds. It takes over the room, Seokjin, and eventually, it takes over you as well.

But once it clears, you find yourself in a séance room. Taehyung sits across from you in a black and gold cloak and a crown on his head. He shuffles tarot cards and asks you the same thing Namjoon does. “What is it that you want?”

“Love,” you answer. Exhausted. Heartbroken.

You don’t want to be seen as a monster. You don’t want to have these doubts. These insecurities. This nightmare.

He sets down one card in front of you. The Reversed Hermit.

Betrayal. Isolation. Paranoia.

As it sinks in, you realize that Taehyung has disappeared. Vanished into thin air. Truly, you are alone again.

You’re not sure how long you sit there in the deafening silence. Wax melts from the candlesticks as the fire burns down the wick. The shadows in the room stretch longer, surrounding you in darkness. But the thoughts in your head are loud, calling you loveless, weak, incompetent, never enough.

Suddenly, you hear music playing. A soft, faint melody from a piano.

You don’t want to be here anymore, so you run toward the sound. A sense of déjà vu hits you as you exit the séance room and find yourself in a long, dimly-lit hallway full of identical doors. Just like your Harrowing, each door you enter leads you to the same hallway over and over and over and over. Despite how gentle the music sounds, you feel desperate to reach it. To see him.

Relief washes over you when you finally do.

In the domain where you first saw him, Yoongi stands behind a piano, dressed head to toe in all black with silver jewelry. One hand presses the black and white keys of the grand instrument, absently playing a tune you vaguely recognized. One he’s certain would bring you right to him.

He glances at you expectantly. A faint smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

Without hesitation, you run toward him, lost and then found. Grief, fear, doubt, and anxiety melt away the moment you’re in his arms. “Yoongi!”

Your familiar pulls you close, brushing his lips against your hair, just as a sharp sting claws into your inner thigh. You whimper and gasp from the pain, squirming in his arms, but Yoongi grabs your jaw and continues to kiss you like nothing is happening.

When the pain subsides, Yoongi finally lets you go. You back away from him, breathing hard, and finally, you notice the golden color in his eyes. He doesn’t move as he peers down on you, lips tugging a bit with an arrogant smirk.

Hesitantly, you lift the bottom of your dress to look at your thigh. A strange, red mark is visible on the skin.

Yoongi merely tilts his head and reminds you, “You’re mine.”

A loud wail is what wakes Jimin from his sleep. His body jerks in reaction, and before he realizes it, he’s tumbling off the chair and onto the wooden floor.

As clumsy as he is, this isn’t unusual for him. He is, however, surprised to see your black cat glowering down at him. Its tail swishes back and forth slowly as an annoyed grumble comes from its chest.

“Sorry,” you apologize, holding a blanket over your body with one hand and shutting the window with the other. “He was crying outside.”

Jimin blinks slowly at you, and then turns his attention back to the cat, who continues to glare down at him. He squints back and whispers, “Isn’t it too early in the morning to be a menace?”

Yoongi gives a grunt of a meow. As if Jimin should’ve known better than to question it.

“I should get going anyway,” you tell him, your voice soft and sad. If Jimin wasn’t wide awake before, he certainly is now. He pushes himself up and sees the redness in your eyes and face. You’ve been crying. “I didn’t mean to stay overnight.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jimin gently asks, jumping to his feet. He starts to approach you, but stops himself. His eyes linger at the blanket you have loosely around you, and how, somehow, you’re even more beautiful to him in the daylight.

You peek at him with wet eyes. Even now, there’s not a trace of wickedness in them at all. “I’m okay. Bad dream.”

Yoongi meows and rubs himself against your legs, trying to comfort you. A wry smile touches your lips as you bend down to pet him, quietly assuring him again that you’re okay. It feels like this is something that happens every now and then.

When the connection between you and the Veil are the strongest.

It’s subtle, but it’s still proof that Jimin isn’t wrong about what you are after all. He’s never been to a Harrowing, and he knows very little about the Veil itself, but mages leave their physical forms behind to enter that dream-like realm. In order to seek truths, gain knowledge, enhance their skills, and meet both good and evil spirits that reside in that world. It shouldn’t surprise him that mages that fall into a deep sleep during the witching hour could be affected by the Veil.

Jimin crouches down to meet your eye-level. There’s a pleasant smile on his lips as he reaches over to rub your back. “Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

You feel good after a long sleep, a good cry, and dipping into the warm water of a bath. The others at the shop are worried about you, even though you’re just across the street. Yoongi tells you as much as he helps you wash up.

“I know. I meant to go home last night.”

Your memory is a bit fuzzy, but that much, you know, is true. Sometimes, when it feels like you’re dreaming in the Veil, it’s hard to distinguish reality and dreams. You look at your thigh, where you envisioned the devil’s mark to be, and see nothing out of the ordinary on your skin.

He doesn’t say anything as he continues to rub soap on your back and shoulders. It feels nice. You start to lean in on his touch and sigh with content. Then, he asks, “Did anything happen?”

“Other than the obvious? No. I just fell asleep,” you answer, almost certain that there isn’t more to the story. Wake pulled you out of sleep as gently as the nightmare ended, and as you laid on Jimin’s bed, you were overwhelmed with emotion. Every detail, every word from your dream, you remember it. But through the tears in your eyes, you saw Jimin sleeping on a single, uncomfortable chair, facing you and dressed in his clothes from the night before. He had let you sleep on his bed throughout the night, watched over you, and kept you safe. And somehow, just seeing Jimin there with you after a terrible nightmare only reassured you that you were okay. That a dream was just a dream. “I really like him, Yoongi.”

“I know you do,” is all he says. You don’t need to face him to know that he isn’t entirely happy with it. “I just want you to be careful around him.”

“I will, Yoongi. You don’t need to worry about me.”

It isn’t long until you’re out of the bath and dressed up. The two of you are relatively silent as you face a mirror and use magic to fix your hair. Then, Yoongi asks, “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

You glance at him from the reflection. He’s dressed in black clothing and silver jewelry, just as you imagined him. His eyes, however, are normal. Dark, inquisitive, and gentle. Unlike the haunting yellow from your nightmare.

“No. Not yet,” you reply, your hand twitching as you try not to touch your thigh. There’s no pain and no strange mark, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamed of it. The mark that Yoongi mentioned once in passing to further strengthen a bond between a mage and their familiar. “Soon, though.”

You’d think those kinds of dreams would’ve stopped by now, especially after hearing from the boys themselves that they loved you. It feels silly to even question it when it’s obvious that they do. Yet, the same dreams keep occurring over and over, filling your mind with doubt and insecurity.

“Okay.” Yoongi stands next to you as you finish getting ready. “You look nice today.”

You grin at him, a little shy from the compliment, but tease, “Are you saying that I look bad other days?”

“You look nice every day,” he corrects with a shy kiss on your cheek. Then, before you could retort, he’s back into his cat form. You smile at him lovingly and hold him in your arms, feeling the rumble of his purrs vibrate from his body.

Downstairs, Jimin finds himself in a bit of a dilemma.

He has nothing to eat for breakfast.

Work has him traveling out of the shop often, delivering bouquets to customers, picking up new supplies and flowers, and even stopping by local guilds to pick up any magic-related reports to take up. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s rarely home to stock up on his personal pantry.

He’s still rummaging around for something when you finally come down with Yoongi in your arms. “Jimin?”

“I’m back here!” he shouts, grabbing pieces of stale bread and a half-empty jar of strawberry jam. This will have to do for now, he supposes, though it clearly isn’t enough for both of you. When you enter the back room, he tries to bite into the hard, jam-coated piece of bread and asks, “Breakfast?”

“I think I’m good,” you tell him, looking around. It’s notably empty, you realize, as you turn your attention back to his plate. “Is that all you’re having?”

“Maybe it’s a better idea that we eat out,” Jimin agrees, pushing the half-bitten bread aside. He isn’t hungry for that anyway. If it were up to him, he’d take you right back upstairs and have you stay with him a little longer.

He takes a quick glance at the cat in your arms, who seems to hold a steady glare at him. As if daring Jimin to make a move on you while he’s around.

You smile at him. “I know a place we can go.”

Across the street, the aroma of baked bread and brewed coffee welcomes you into the little shop. Seokjin is up bright and early, humming quietly to himself as he carefully puts pastries on a display case. Hoseok pours coffee into several mugs and adds cream and sugar to everyone’s preferred taste. Namjoon is doing an inventory check with Taehyung and Jungkook, writing down what he needs to shop for when he goes to the market later that morning. But as soon as the bell chimes from the front door and you step through the threshold, a sweeter welcome awaits you.

“You’re home!” Taehyung exclaims with a big, boxy smile and pulls you and Yoongi into a tight hug. The cat meows in protest in your arms, but it’s muffled when Jungkook giggles and joins in the group hug as well.

“We were worried about you, pretty girl,” Hoseok comments, holding two mugs for you and Yoongi in his hands, though he seems relieved to see you.

“Yeah, you didn’t come home last night,” Namjoon agrees as he and Seokjin come into the entrance together.

“Sorry, that’s my fault,” Jimin says from behind you. He steps into the shop with a sheepish smile on his face, seeing that he’s faced with the very over-protective men you live with.

Seokjin scoffs under his breath. “That explains a lot.”

“Is it okay if he stays for breakfast?” you ask them, hopeful. There’s a bit of hesitance, as if they’re not really sure what to make of you and Jimin still.

“Yeah, why not? The more the merrier,” Namjoon quotes with a shrug.

Your heart feels warm at their acceptance. Seeing the boys all together in one room, all seven of them, it feels right. It feels complete.

Both Hoseok and Namjoon look at you with so much care in their eyes, scolding you lightly for making them worry. Seokjin smiles at you, alive and well, before he takes Yoongi from your arms to help him in the kitchen. Taehyung and Jungkook refuse to leave your side, still keeping you in their hold until Seokjin bats them away.

If this is all a dream, it’s the cruelest one yet.

Hoseok hands you your coffee and smiles brightly at their guest. “I’ll get another mug. Do you like cream and sugar in your coffee, Jimin?”

Breakfast goes surprisingly well. Laid out on the table are sunny-side eggs, crispy pork belly, toasted bread with butter and jam, a bowl of fresh fruits, vegetable pancakes, and leftover stew from the night before. It’s a feast compared to what Jimin tried to eat at his own shop earlier that morning.

Everyone sits together on the long table, happily chatting and eating. Hoseok feeds Taehyung and Jungkook food from his plate before he eats himself. Seokjin tries to fish for compliments from you and Namjoon for working so hard in the kitchen. Even Yoongi – who strangely appears when the cat disappears – takes a seat beside you and immediately reaches into the fruit bowl for tangerines.

It’s a little strange, but Jimin seems to fit in really well. Both Hoseok and Taehyung include him in their conversations, asking him what his opinions are about if tigers or bears are the superior animal or the types of cool dances that they’ve seen at the town square. Namjoon and Seokjin make him laugh at their witty banter, and how they bring out the goofiest sides of each other. Even Jungkook is excitedly clapping his hands and giggling at their antics before cutely asking Jimin if there’s any pork belly left on his side of the table. And while he’s certain that Yoongi hates him, he’s surprised when he is offered a piece of his peeled tangerine.

There’s a sense of belonging that Jimin can’t really describe when he’s around you guys. Something that he hasn’t really felt anywhere else.

It’s a stark difference to when he returns to his lonely flower shop afterwards.

Floral fragrances greet him as he walks in the door instead of the aroma of baked good and brewed coffee. There’s a notable silence that fills the room when there aren’t any customers around, unlike at the lively shop across the street, where there’s always music playing and people talking. It feels cold and empty, far from the warm and homey feelings of yours.

Running a shop by himself keeps him busy. It’s hard work and long days, but he likes the smile on people’s faces when they find exactly what they’re looking for, or when he delivers things he’s made to his customers.

Today isn’t any different. Except, it is.

Because just across the street, you’re there. He can see you welcoming curious people inside, checking on the plants outside the shop that Jimin helped you garden with a raven perched on your shoulder, going to the market as Namjoon holds your waist and Jungkook holds your hand, and coming back to the shop less than an hour later and being showered with affectionate greetings from the others upon your return.

Because Jimin can’t stop thinking about how you and the others across the street are supposed to be wicked, evil, vile creatures that feast on the blood of innocents and animal sacrifices instead of tangerines, coffee, and bread. That you must’ve bewitched humans to do your bidding, even though it clearly seems that Seokjin has a mind of his own and wants to be with you all. That you’d use your power to bring chaos and destruction to the world instead of love and comfort in your shop.

Because Jimin realizes that he can’t kill you because he loves you. Even though he shouldn’t. Even though it’s his job to eradicate people like you from his town.

Yet, here he is, thinking about how concerned he was when you woke up crying. How troubled he felt when he wasn’t able to make breakfast for you. The way he felt a bit nervous entering your shop and facing your other lovers. How they all tried to make him feel welcomed anyway, even if there’s some uncertainty with how they feel toward him. How the morning after with you was nice until he had to return to his shop alone.

The enchanted dagger upstairs is locked away in his room, waiting to be used. Eager for that next opportunity when you’re alone with him. But Jimin, who watches you from his shop’s window with a forlorn sadness, wants to keep you with him a little longer.

And that, truly, is a problem.

“We need to talk.”

Your heart stutters nervously at the words. Silently, you exchange looks with Seokjin, who is washing dirty dishes next to you. But you know why Namjoon is suddenly summoning you all for a family meeting.

At the market, you noticed it. You’re certain Namjoon and Jungkook did too with the way they tightened their hold around you.

In the town square, they were there.

Hunters.

Many of them are talking about Blackstone Castle and the mages that have escaped. They’re asking townsfolk if they’ve noticed anything suspicious, advising people to stay indoors at night, taking notes of any clues they find through their investigations. The three of you manage to avoid them on the way to the market, but it’s clear that their very presence is a threat: the hunters are here, and they’re looking for you.

“It’s too dangerous now,” Seokjin whispers, worried. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as you sit beside him. “We’ll be safer if we get out of town.”

“Where would we go?” Namjoon questions, a bit frustrated. You can tell he’s trying not to raise his voice. “This is our home. We’ve just started to settle down.”

“All the rooms aren’t filled yet,” Taehyung points out as his eyes lock with yours. He’s been certain that Jimin is the last one. That the final room in the shop belongs to him.

Jungkook sighs heavily. “What do we do?”

Running away isn’t an option. You guys already did that, and you don’t want to leave this place behind. Fighting them would only bring more unwanted attention toward you and the shop. Even you’re a bit stumped with what to do next.

“More and more of those hunters are coming into the town,” Hoseok says with a frown. “We have to be careful. We have to look out for each other.”

Namjoon nods his head. “Just as we always do.”

Yoongi catches your eye this time. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

The others look at you as well. Yoongi doesn’t have to say his name for you to know who he’s talking about. You’re the one who knows Jimin the most. They trust your judgment, despite any divination readings Taehyung has on him.

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “I trust him.”

By the late afternoon, as things begin to wind down, you return to the flower shop with containers of food from your shop. “I don’t know if you ate your dinner already, but we made these for you.”

He smiles fondly at you, touched by the sweet gesture as he takes the containers from you. “Thank you, baby. I’ll eat it well.”

As he leaves to put the food away in the back for later, you take a walk around. His shop is empty of customers. Various flowers in full bloom sit prettily on display in arrangements and in pots. Everything is beautiful and pleasing to look at.

Though, you notice that there aren't really any personal touches in Jimin’s shop at all. No family pictures, despite his father being a hometown hero or that his grandmother had owned this shop prior. No food that he keeps in stock with favorite dishes and snacks. Even his bedroom feels minimalistic compared to what you’re used to at one of the boys’ rooms.

If he ever decides to live with you, in that empty room on the second floor, what would his room look like? Would it be like this shop? Would it be something different?

As you lose yourself to your train of thoughts, you nearly trip over something.

A bucket of lavenders.

It sits innocently near a painted cart among other buckets of bouquets. Its calming fragrance is masked by the other floral scents in the shop. But it makes you back away from it as if you just saw something truly horrifying.

Arms suddenly wrap around your midsection and pull you into their chest. You nearly scream, wiggling to get free, until you hear Jimin’s infectious laughter behind you. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you?”

“Yes! How dare you!” you playfully shout, relieved it’s just him. He chuckles and starts to kiss your cheek and neck in apology. His lips feel soft against your skin, and your hand reaches back to touch his neck, turning a bit to kiss him back.

It’s easy to be swept up in him. To get lost in the heat of the moment and not think about anything or anyone else. To push your worries about bad dreams, hunters, and the other boys aside and just melt in his arms. You trust him. You know you can.

But something is bothering you. His mouth moves away from your lips to kiss your jaw and the spot just below your ear, and as you turn your head and sigh in content, you notice the bucket of lavenders again.

“Stay tonight?” he asks against your skin, eyes hazy with lust.

You’re tempted. But you answer, “I can’t, Jimin. Not tonight.”

With the hunters in town, you have to make sure that the shop is safe. Hoseok and Namjoon have prepared to sage the entire shop to ward off any harmful intentions to you and your family. And you need to cast added protection spells on the doors and windows so that your shop won’t be easy for them to find.

He hums but places another kiss on your face. “We got a bit carried away last night, didn’t we?”

You glance away from the lavenders and meet his gaze. Again, you remind yourself that you love this man. You can trust him.

“Jimin, about last night…” you begin. His smile fades a little as he arches an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m having a hard time remembering how the night ended.”

No matter how hard you try, you can’t remember how you ended up falling asleep in Jimin’s room. The last thing you remember is telling him you had to go back home. That Yoongi would be upset, and Jimin said—

“You just fell asleep, babe. Nothing happened.”

“I see.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It's not that,” you tell him, not sure how to state this without sounding accusatory. You glance over at the lavenders again and quietly admit, “I just feel like I’m missing something. I don’t know. Did… Did something more happen?”

His hands cup your face, warm and a bit calloused. They contract a bit with the cold, silver rings around his fingers.

“What makes you think I’d do something to hurt you?” he questions, trying to sound a bit offended. But for a split second, you could’ve sworn he almost looked amused.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes flutter close as he tilts your face up, greeting you with soft kisses again. His thumb gently caresses your cheeks, hands slowly gliding down your neck, fingers tracing your collarbone. Despite the light touches, your heart pounds hard in your chest, and you feel yourself chasing after his lips.

“Should I remind you then? About last night?” he asks, nose bumping against yours and a hand against the back of your neck.

“I can’t stay,” you remind him, eyes fluttering close. But his lips feel so full and soft when he kisses you. Each kiss entices you for more, and he chuckles when he feels you tug on his bottom lip.

“Then should we stop?”

He pulls away from you a bit, teasing you, but you don’t allow him. Your arms wrap around his neck as you needily answer, “No. Don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Jimin praises and rewards you with another heated kiss. You could only moan in agreement, far too distracted to pay attention to anything but the way his tongue slips into your mouth or the way his touch warms your skin, igniting memories of last night with the way his hands roam your body.

With Jimin, it feels easy to love. It feels easy to simply be. Whether as friends, lovers, or something else you can’t quite place, it feels easy to get caught up in the moment with him. Without overthinking of what this all means, without the worry of what you are to him, without caring when the dream ends.

Your back hits the counter, but it doesn’t break the kiss. He feels you over your clothes, and your hands tug him closer.

“Jimin…” you gasp, panting hard when he finally pulls away. He spins you around so your back is against his chest again. Vaguely, through the lust-filled haze, you’re reminded of the night before.

Visiting the flower shop, an apology and a confession, a night spent together. You were trying to get home. Yoongi was upset. The tattoo on Jimin’s chest. A black dahlia.

“Don’t think about it,” Jimin whispers against your skin. He starts to push you down over the counter. Had you been able to see his face, a chill would’ve run down your spine from the way he looks at you in that very moment – like a predator to prey. “Just trust me.”

The chime of a bell snaps both of you out of it.

“What the hell?” a last-minute customer exclaims, unable to open the door all the way to get through. As if, somehow, the door got stuck. “Jimin? Are you there?”

Immediately, Jimin backs off and clears his throat.

“Yes, I’ll be right with you!” he answers, running his fingers through his hair. He stands over you for a moment, protectively shielding you from anyone coming in. When he glances over at you, however, you’re already smoothing over the front of your clothes. Your face is a bit flustered, but not a single hair is out of place. “Are you okay, love?”

“I’m fine, Jimin. I should get going anyway,” you tell him bashfully. He kisses you one last time before he finally lets you go.

With ease, you pull open the front door as the customer nearly stumbles inside.

When you look back at Jimin, he seems to be staring at you and the door curiously. Then, his eyes lock with yours, and he gives you that same, knowing smile from last night.

The kind of smile where he knows something you don’t. A secret he isn’t meant to find out.

And it dawns to you, just then, that his smile was the last thing you saw yesterday before your world turned black.

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

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#magic shop series #jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts au #bts fantasy au #bts magic au #bts witch au #bts fanfic #jimin smut

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stalarys · 6 months

Text

it was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

“IT WAS ONLY A KISS, IT WAS ONLY A KISS” ; or, martyn inthelittlewood and the passing of the curse // wingswap / shared curse au (?) // ao3 link

cw: graphic descriptions of canon violence, vomiting, body horror (??)

spoilers through secret life ep 4

1.7k words

-----

Tensions are always the lightest at the start of a session. Freshly spawned in, feeling fully vitalized and without any expectations for the challenges ahead. With no allies, no enemies, no bases… It's so lighthearted, and Martyn loves it. They all can be dramatic and murderous in the end, but these early, peaceful moments are something he treasures.

(he feels like he’s missing something. that he hops between worlds so frequently, while it seems like the others all have a home to go to. it’s not mentioned to him. other worlds are never mentioned here, in the world of red, yellow, and green.)

Tensions are light, and Martyn is the one that breaks it. Sue him, he’s giddy to get started, and it’s not his fault when he swings a wide, joking punch… and Jimmy moves right into its path. It’s not his fault, he’d say defensively – in the gleeful energy of the new world’s start, Jimmy is hit; the group recoils, some in momentary (but genuine) alarm; others with cackling laughter.

Jimmy looks affronted, golden wings flared in surprise before breaking into a grin. Martyn matches it, holding his hands up in defense; an ‘over the shoulder tease gone wrong’, but… he did take a smidgen of Jimmy’s health. A red spot that’ll bruise, with no way to heal itself.

So he clasps his hands together and parts them, a heart forming in his palms. He ushers it to Jimmy with a breath of air as the group begins to split, taking the pandemonium as an excuse to get the season started!

The bruise clears; Jimmy blinks, and his grin splits even wider. He lunges at Martyn, feathered ears fluttering, wings and arms alike open wide.

“Gimme a kiss, gimme a little kiss—!” Jimmy chirps.

They meet in the middle; arms interlocked, fingers interlaced. Lips pressed together so briefly. These games are thrilling and horrible and torturous and all, but… you get to know each other very well. More than you know yourself. The pressure’s low with his last win, and… well, frankly? He doesn’t feel like the Watchers would let anyone strike it twice in a row.

For Martyn’s purposes, one win is enough for now.

His lips tingle as they part, feet hitting the ground running in different directions. Towards the forests, towards the blossoming trees, and Martyn cannot help but think to himself — What can go wrong?

-----

So what, they find themselves drifting back together. This game is… different. A bit more like a game. Maybe it’s the symbol of the Secret Keeper that unnerves him, and maybe he finds solace in those who remember. Occasional glances shared amidst the glee and chaos, even while they chant “FAIL” under the figure’s looming gaze.

-----

Fire crackles. Lava burbles nearby, unseen, lying in wait. The air is heavy. Thick with sulfur, thick with heat. Pure, baking heat, devoid of humidity. Thick with the smell of blood. Shield raised, Martyn gasps as the gleaming axe swings down, slamming through the barricade of wood. The shield splinters apart in his grasp, splinters digging into his arm as he drops it.

The brute does not wait for a cry of mercy; the axe swings back up, the blunt handle cracking against his jaw as the bone slams together; Marytn stumbles back. He — he shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t be here, but — but he needs to be. Stupidly, undiscerning, chasing that gods damned need to be better.

His vision spins. The brute reaches into his desperate, haphazard tunnel, and grabs the front of his shirt in an unforgiving hoof. It reels back and just as quickly slams him back against the wall of the tunnel, before peeling his bloodied, beaten body off. He’s thrown to the ground, gilded blackstone splattered with blood.

Martyn’s gaze blinks through the blood and the nausea, just in time to watch the brute’s axe complete a full arc, and slam into his chest.

. . .

The impact carries him through the respawn, to the point that he can’t even recognize when it changed from burning, unforgiving stone to lush grass. It hurts, wounds stitched together and healed faster than he got them, and it hurts. His bisected chest forces itself back together, the skin weaving back into place; it doesn’t leave so much as a scar.

Martyn can’t bring himself to think about that; he can’t think to begin with. His head is filled with cotton and a murky haze, blurring time and sensation together. His fingers dig into the ground ‘til the grass is uprooted.

Light shifts, dancing over his pressed-shut eyelids; something moves overhead. There’s… voices, and his mind hums that there’s an obligation. A change in dynamics, that they’re closer to enemies than allies.

But arms hook under his own, helping him into a seated position. His back presses against the indented form of a crafting table. There’s a bottle of water at his lips. A bowl of something pressed into his hands. Murmurs of shock, of sympathy, and there’s Grian’s voice. The warden of the games, the bastion between them and the full, unrestrained torment of the Watchers; better to make it a game than a Saw trap, y’know.

Grian hums. A hand finds itself on his shoulder.

“Oof – Sorry, Marytn,” Grian coos, halfway between a tease and sympathy. Through the haze, he can’t discern which he prefers. “That’s a rough way to go.” Martyn murmurs back, some kind of sarcastic response — he can’t remember what he’s saying as he’s saying it — but he doesn’t protest as bodies move around him, helping him get food and water back into his respawned body.

He can’t remember who it is that comments, “Jimmy’s not the first death?”

-----

Marytn’s been finding himself sore in new ways, new places. Body pains aren’t uncommon by any means, and especially not in this season. After all, with the lack of regeneration, the wounds themselves may staunch their bleeding but the impact still remains. But, after a successful day of the task force running about, and having full hearts after redeeming his task, there’s still a frustrating ache in his shoulder blades that he can’t quite reach. His scalp, too, aches, pinpricks of little stings dancing across from time to time.

Sometimes, he finds a stray golden feather among his stuff, and wonders when Jimmy left it there.

-----

Martyn’s grinning as he bolts down the narrow staircase, his fellow Big Dog at his heels. He hasn’t been to the End in ages! And in the life series, no less! He doesn’t give himself a moment to doubt as he hops right into the portal, and—!

Vertigo.

Bodies moving. Chest lurching. The excitement and adrenaline wrench themself into deformity, into something twisted, something wrong. An immediate sense, knowledge, that he’s not wanted here. That he doesn’t belong here. That he needs to get out. He stumbles forward, trying to get out of the way.

His feet land on empty space, and he’s off the edge. The air of the end is sickening and it fills his lungs, claiming the space like it's theirs.

As he descends further, further into the void, the outline of the dragon’s domain drifting out of sight, the more his body is theirs. Unthinking, desperate, he rips a bit out of a golden apple, feeling the briefest of reprieves before the void itself tears the vitality from him, and it keeps ripping. Thirty hearts to lose, to be torn from his body. The pinnacle of health to the most cruel and torturous death, all at their discretion. The damage eats away at his body, plummeting longer and sinking further than any player has the right to.

The void hungers.

Hands, ethereal and purple and sick, grab at him, fingers digging into scars and ripping them apart and tearing into his shoulder blades even though he tries so, so desperately to get out of the void. It rejects him, wholly and utterly, and it is thrilled to do so.

He’s fallen right into the Watcher’s domain, death imminent, and they all want a taste.

They tear him apart until all thirty hearts are torn asunder and he respawns and he’s put together wrong.

Martyn’s back hits the bed; he’s a flurry of limbs as he rolls over, toppling off the side; the bile pooling in his mouth spills to the ground. He wretches. It’s worse, it’s so much worse than the last death. His body screams, his back aches, and his whole body feels wrong like his own bones have been torn out and fit back inside. Hollowed out.

A shout. A thud. Jimmy spawns, and Martyn, through the screaming haze, instinctively knows that it wasn’t by voluntarily going through the portal. Jimmy groans, but is quick to look for his teammate, head whipping around.

Marytn hears a quiet “oh, gods”, and he doesn’t process the time it takes for a person to be kneeling beside him. He’s prattling gentle reassurances as Marytn continues to wretch over the sound of his comm beeping and chirping.

A call goes through. Grian’s voice crackles with glee — “TIMMY—!” — ready and quite delighted to tease… and cuts himself off as Martyn cries out again. His ears, his ears, they hurt. His scalp. His back. Everything feels from and something warm and wet dribbles down the side of his head.

If he could open his eyes, he'd be able to see the purple, viscous ooze, dripping down his chin in sluggish rivulets.

Jim speaks next. He screams for Grian to come over, that “Something’s wrong — Something’s so wrong. It’s the canary curse, Grian, it’s the curse.”

A single wing, golden yellow and slick and limp hangs down the side of Martyn’s back. His ears are accented by feathers, torn out from under the skin, and Martyn’s sobbing.

The wing flaps desperately, slick and wet and heavy, covered in slime and ichor like it was wrenched in place by the void itself; it slaps against the floor.

Jimmy — lurching, unbalanced, missing a wing — stays kneeled beside him, rubbing circles into his back. He murmurs reassurances like it's a prayer, pressing a kiss to Martyn’s forehead.

“C’mon, stay strong,” he murmurs. “We’ll get through this. We’ll… we’ll be okay.”

#inthelittlewood #trafficblr #secret life #traffic life #boy i love writing fic when ... at work #if i have to sit through so many povs to make an out of context compilation then you have to read through my silly angst #randomly inspired by art i saw by @daftaiyo of the whole wing thing

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