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ichorai · 2 years

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goldstorm and bug boy! ; 10.31 pm.

pairing ; spiderman!yunho x antihero!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; the one with loose velcro belts and build-a-bears.

words ; 2.3k

warnings ; cursing, general superhero violence, mentions of bombs/explosions, yunho being tired of goldstorm but also being completely infatuated with them :D

special thanks to @subways-stuff for giving me the prompt idea !! this is also for @ficscafe's peppermint latte event <3

goldstorm and bug boy! masterlist.

Yunho couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Which, in all honesty, wasn’t entirely his fault considering the fact that you were drenched from head to toe in glitter and shimmering sequins, sparkling far too brightly for his comfort as he nestled further below the ridge of the roof. Leave it to you to be unnecessarily extra. Though, he had to admit, the little Christmas tree earrings framing your face were really cute and he had to consider getting a pair for himself. Molten emerald, ruby, and opal danced amongst his vision and he swatted at your outreached hands for his binoculars, squinting in concentration. Rich people mingled just two floors below them in the opposite building, shaking hands with each person they bumped into. Flutes of bubbling champagne and small plates of sweet delectables worth more than his whole apartment were passed around by waiters dressed as winter elves.

“Okay, just a reminder that we’re supposed to be undercover at the Christmas Auction Fundraiser, so I think you—Y/N, what the fuck is that?”

There was really no point to Yunho asking what you were holding, because he already knew. A mocking grin flickered over your visage, which glowed with the scintillating hues of your festive garb. He, on the other hand, wore a simple green tux that smoothed over his form. He was thankful there was a slight chill to the air, because wearing the spidersuit beneath the formal outfit would’ve been quite uncomfortable in the heat. His blonde tendrils were slickened back with hair gel that you had bought for discount at the dollar store—explaining the occasional haphazard tufts jutting out from his head.

“What?” you jabbed, putting up an aloof frontage, much to his ever growing frustration.

The binoculars dangled over his neck as he let go of them in favor of pinching the space between his brows. “You brought our fucking turtle to our undercover mission?”

A look of mock offense folded over your expression and you shoved at his shoulder. “Shelline was lonely! Don’t be a dick.”

“I—you know what? If something happens to her, it’s on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Everything always somehow ends up on me anyways. What’s one more to the pile?” Studying the crowd of people in the opposite building, you lifted a brow upon seeing the target; a rotund man with a wispy ashen mustache, a thick monocle slanted in between the crevice of his brow and his cheekbone. “He looks like the Monopoly man.”

A scowl twitched Yunho’s lips downwards. “Well, you’re not too far off. He’s an inbred monster of capitalism.”

“Look at us, fighting against capitalism one white man at a time! Alright!” You clapped your hands together, ignoring the way his eyes widened and his fingers hurriedly came to wrap around your own wrists to pry them apart, shushing you quite loudly. “Okay, here’s our plan—”

“Is there stabbing, shooting, or burning anywhere in this plan?” Yunho deadpanned, leveling you with a semi-humored gaze.

A part of you wanted to spit out something snarky right back into his face, but you paused upon realizing your plan included a concerning amalgamation of all three he had listed. You frowned. “Fine, you party pooper, the plan’s going to be a bit shorter than expected, but we can work around it. We think Mr. Monopoly here is going to be selling the real thing to criminals while auctioning off counterfeits, right? We sneak in and pretend to be some rich posh bastard looking to buy crappy expensive stuff, take some of those fancy-looking hors d'oeuvres, cause a diversion—I’m thinking we pull out the smoke bombs for this one—and then we swipe all the real auction items and replace them with build-a-bears!”

“Do you…” Yunho leaned closer, nose almost brushing against yours. It was strange being on a mission and not being in your regular superhero suits. Being void of your suits made a part of you nervous—what would happen if Yunho’s identity was revealed to the world? “Do you have any build-a-bears?”

Blinking, you lifted your shoulders in a half-shrug. “Listen, you can’t always depend on me to do shit, okay? I’ve already got Shelline to take care of.” The turtle in your palm seemed to bob its small head in tandem to the swing music emitting from the charity auction before turning around in a slow circle.

Leaning back on his haunches, Yunho blew out a sigh. “Alright, better plan. The auction items are locked in the back room, but there are two exits. One will be up on the stage, so that’s a no. The other is sealed with card access, located in the back of the building. Think you can swipe one off an employee?”

You wrinkled your nose in pure delight. “Was Alfred Hitchcock afraid of eggs?”

“I… what?”

“The answer is yes, dude.”

Despite his irises meeting the speckled night sky in exasperation, he grinned at your humorous antics nonetheless. “Alright. We get into the back room with the card and knowing a fundraiser as high-end as this, there’ll be some sort of temporary protection duty positioned there. No security cameras, this place was only rented three hours prior to the start of the event. It’s clearly only a quick money-sucking switcheroo scheme.”

You nodded along, a completely serious expression splayed over your visage. “And then comes the build-a-bears.”

Spiderman shot you a dirty look, eyes comically cinching. “Will you stop with the damned bears? I’ll get you one when we’re done with this, now focus! We take out the security detail, which means knock them unconscious, by the way, so none of that murdering business under any circumstances! Then we take the real items and the counterfeit, and hightail outta there.”

“Could we sell the counterfeit on EBay?”

It took a lot of him not to face palm. “Just… ugh, come on. You ready?”

“No, I’m being serious. What are we gonna do with all that stuff?”

“Give it back to the charity,” said Yunho after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t know, maybe keep five dollar’s worth for ourselves to treat us to some ice cream.”

A mock-gasp slipped from your lips and you raised a palm to your propped-open mouth. “Do my ears deceive me? Are you telling me to steal? Who are you and what have you done to my Yunho?”

His heart let out a pathetic sputtering wheeze within his ribcage at the fact that you called him yours.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” mumbled Yunho beneath his breath as you precariously moved Shelline onto your shoulder, fastening a makeshift velcro belt over her little green body. Then, you pushed yourself to your feet and hauled him up as well, pulling out your grappling hook. It made a satisfying whizzing sound as the claw sailed over the space between the buildings, digging with scary accuracy against the rooftop barrier.

“See you on the other side, bitch!” you whistled, tightening your hold on the zipline and winking at him before taking off. If turtles could scream, Yunho was almost definitively certain that Shelline would be shrieking for dear God to have mercy on her little reptilian soul. You were a flash of blinding Christmas colors so bright that if they had been any more colorful, Yunho was pretty sure his brain would melt. Or perhaps it was that wink that made him lightheaded. Either way, damn you and your dramatic ass.

The mission turned out to be a complete and utter failure.

Shelline had somehow slipped out of her extremely secure velcro fastening, the employees had thought you were a performer of some sorts due to your christmas-themed wardrobe and ushered you onto the stage where a hundred pairs of eyes were intensely trained on you. It was obvious you couldn’t go about being sneaky now. Yunho had to improvise by doing what you were supposed to do, swiping an ID card from one of the server’s pockets. He had then moved to the back room, all whilst listening to your poor, choppy rendition of a Christmas classic, ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’, and simultaneously searching for your traumatized turtle.

The card turned out not to work for base-level employees (which, honestly, he should’ve expected), and a guard had eventually grabbed him by the scruff of his pine-green suit and tossed him out into the alley after noticing that he didn’t work there. It was snowing and the dirtied slush of once-white powder stained his knees and hands an unflattering shade. He heard your muffled voice from inside, excusing yourself from the stage. You had taken off through the crowd before backtracking and reluctantly climbing back on to bark out, “If any of you see a turtle roaming about, she's friendly. But, I, however, am not. If you touch her, I will sever your hands from your wrists. Thank you and good night!”

It was safe to say that the night had been a complete disaster.

Well, at least you found Shelline just outside the building, slowly crawling towards an enticing Christmas tree on the other side of the road. Thank goodness you had scooped her back onto your shoulder before she could get trampled by the passing cars. Shelline didn’t look too happy at that.

The both of you tried to get back in, but the guards now recognized you and refused to let you through, despite your several strings of obscenities and threats to ‘call the manager’.

And so, that’s how the two of you ended up sprawled across Yunho’s bed, silence laying over the two of you like a heavy blanket. He hadn’t bothered shedding his dirty clothes, making a mental note to change the sheets later, wincing at the way the mud on his knees grazed the opal-hued fabric and marred its one pristine state. You, on the other hand, slipped out of your uncomfortable sparkly garments and haphazardly tossed them somewhere behind you, leaving you in a loose tank top and plain black pants.

Clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth, you shuffled to prop yourself up on the bed. “Since we’re down in the dumps,” you began before dipping back downwards to reach below the bed, procuring a wrapped box, “maybe we should open our Christmas presents early.”

However reluctant he was, Yunho didn’t have the heart to tell you no. After all, he knew you’d just open it regardless of what you said.

“Merry Christmas, bug boy,” you mumbled with a mischievous grin. “I promise you’ll like it.”

With a gentle huff, Yunho shuffled to sit criss-cross, the matte fabric of his suit creasing audibly. The gift you had slid over was hurriedly wrapped in red and blue, evident by all of its corners sticking out and the awkward taping strewn over the whole box. A fluttering warm feeling, despite the earlier disappointment of the night, flourished within his ribcage. The sleek ribbon came undone with a simple tug, and the tearing of wrapping paper rang throughout his room. He curiously folded it back to see… a build-a-bear.

But not any regular build-a-bear. A Spiderman build-a-bear. Yunho couldn’t help the small smile that spilled onto his lips.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything else, I’m kinda broke after splurging on Shelline’s huge tank,” you muttered, sheepishly scratching the back of your neck.

“No, no, it’s perfect. I love it,” Yunho said, ever so soft. “Thank you. Here, I want you to open yours, too.” Nimbly, he leaned back and grappled beneath his bed for the only other wrapped box down there, then swiftly tossed it to you. Deftly, the cuboid landed in your grip and you blinked down at the perfectly wrapped gift, lifting it to your ears to shake gently. Nothing.

The bridge of your nose wrinkled in suspicion. “What’s in here?”

“Open it.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Y/N, just open—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the immaculate wrapping paper was already discarded and you were flipping the lid of the shoebox he had used open, blinking down with saucer pans for eyes. “Holy shit. Oh my God, holy shit!”

“Is that a good holy shit or a bad holy—”

“Good!” The smile that plastered over your visage was brighter than what you had worn to the gala, and this one, unlike your sequinned jacket, wasn’t an annoying sight to see. In the ratty Nike shoebox laid several small hand-knitted garments he had made for Shelline, and one large scarf at the bottom for you. “Oh god, they’re so ugly! I love them! No wonder you wanted to buy all that yarn from Walmart so long ago! I thought you were just trying to buy your way into the heart of the crazy old cat lady from upstairs.” With no forewarning of any sort, you set aside his gift and launched towards him with outstretched arms, which wrangled an unsuspecting yelp from his throat. You usually hated touching him in any way (despite all your flirtatious remarks, which sent very mixed signals to Yunho), so this was a new experience in all of its entirety. You smelled of iced gingerbread and refreshing mint soap tonight, and it was utterly intoxicating. Yunho couldn’t get enough of you.

The final straw was when you pulled away slightly to plant an excited kiss of gratitude to the apple of his cheek, springing from the bed with an excited noise falling from your lips before he could even register what you had done. “I gotta get Shelline to try these on! She can be our little turtle fashionista!” You had scurried out of the room with the widest of beams and Yunho could only longingly ogle after your bumbling form as if you had hung up all the stars and moons in the sky. And then proceeded to stuff them to the brim with detonators and explode them into a million pieces. Because that just seemed more like you, and Yunho liked… loved you just the way you were.

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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years

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you are so gd talented and I would love love love to see your take on a possessive draco (like Harry when he gets territorial over Theo in TCL)

you are so kind pls.....thank u so much 😩 here’s a drabble for you, angel, hope you enjoy and sorry it took a hot minute! ❤️

He’d never have let Draco do this normally — it’s hard for him, and not in that work-through-it-and-you’ll-be-better-for-it kind of hard, all it does is make him tense and angry — but he can see the slight mania in Draco’s eyes and the fear and desperation, and it’s all of that plus the hectic flush on his cheeks that convinces Harry not to fight it when Draco shoves him down onto the bed and points his wand and suddenly Harry’s wrists are bound to the headboard.

“Better?” says Harry drily. Draco’s jaw clenches and his eyes blaze. If he’d known how obvious he was, how clearly Harry could read all of his emotions on his face, maybe he would have gone to some trouble to take it down a notch. He tugs lightly at his bonds, testing them though he doesn’t plan to break them. He simply wants to determine whether he could if he wanted to. To his fascination, he’s not totally sure he could. They’re incredibly strong, which means there had been significant emotion behind the spell. “D’you feel like telling me what the fuck this is about yet?”

Draco doesn’t answer. He points his wand again, and then Harry’s clothes are gone. He can’t imagine a more vulnerable position to be in: tied up and naked. At one point in his life, the idea of Draco Malfoy seeing him this way would have been second only to Voldemort himself seeing him this way. Not anymore, of course.

Now all this does is make his cock twitch and start filling with blood.

“What’s with you?” he asks. Draco doesn’t answer again; he disrobes himself without magic, then slips off his shirt and trousers and climbs onto the bed, a knee on either side of one of Harry’s legs. He looks quite mad, and lucky for him he’s just fucking perfect enough that he makes madness into something ethereal. His hair is free from its usual product, tempting Harry’s bound hands with how soft it looks. The combination of helplessness and arousal makes his breathing shallow and loud, his chest rising and falling too obviously for his taste.

“Something wrong, Potter?” Draco purrs, fingers curling around the base of Harry’s cock, slick with magicked lube. He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing through his nose, but Draco only squeezes and he has to clench his jaw to keep in a noise. “You know, you couldn’t look more appealing if you were a six-course meal and I was starving.”

“Is that right?” Harry says. It’s strained slightly, and he lets out a hoarse laugh. He opens his eyes and meets Draco’s, doing everything in his power not to lift his hips into the constant, torturous slide of that perfect hand. “Keeping in mind, of course, that you’ve always been a bit of a slut for it I do have to say you look more ravenous than usual.”

Now Draco laughs, mockingly, and he speeds up his hand. He starts twisting his wrist at the top, palming over the sensitive, engorged head, and dipping his thumb into the slit like he’s trying to coax out more pre-come. He looks like he’s barely restraining himself from leaning over and using his mouth instead; he’s got a good and proper fetish for Harry’s cock, an obsession that rivals only his love of riling Harry up on purpose just to monopolise his attention. It only makes it more impressive that he hasn’t done it yet.

“Keep talking, Potter, I have all night. And I’ve always wondered how you’d look all worked up and edged past endurance.”

Something flutters in Harry’s stomach, a heady combination of shock and arousal and nerves. The look on Draco’s face, the implications of his words, they’re making Harry deeply uneasy as much as they’re turning him on.

“Is that your plan?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level. “You wanna watch me struggle?”

“Well that’s only part of it,” says Draco. He lets go of Harry’s cock, curved up against his stomach, thick and heavy with blood, and crawls up his body to press a series of kitten-soft kisses onto his neck. Harry closes his eyes again and breathes through his nose. There’s an instinct to resist that’s kicking in which he’s desperately fighting. He wants to know what the fuck is going on first before he decides to shut this down. Draco’s lips drag maddeningly up to his ear. “The other part is reminding you what you’re gonna spend the rest of your life missing if I ever catch you fucking around on me, Potter.”

Another pulse of shock rocks him. He stares up at Draco with his lips parted, confused at first until understanding catches up with him and his face flushes.

“I see you’ve figured it out,” Draco says silkily. His hand goes back to Harry’s cock, still hard and throbbing, and now he bends and puts his lips to the head. He sucks lightly at it like a particularly good lolly, making Harry’s toes curl, ripping a half-mad groan from his throat.

“I dunno what you thought you saw,” Harry bites out, tugging unconsciously at his ties, “but I wasn’t planning on fucking Jenkins. But it’s good to know you’re keeping a jealous eye on me at work, love.”

Draco sits up and swipes his thumb over the wet and sensitive glans again. Harry loses himself for a moment and bucks his hips.

“Maybe you weren’t planning on it,” says Draco mildly. He traces his fingertips along the underside of Harry’s straining prick, dancing along the nerves, every vein engorged with blood, leading him along a knife’s edge towards a feeling of frighteningly unfamiliar vulnerability and desperation. “But you were thinking about it,” he coos. “Did you picture it, Harry? Pushing him against the wall face-first and filling him up with your cock?”

Harry’s head falls back against a pillow and he lifts his hips again, searching for friction. He’s so hard it’s beginning to hurt now and he’s slightly lightheaded from the loss of blood to his brain.

Draco’s hot, wet mouth engulfs him then, taking him down to the root so he can feel the throbbing head press just slightly into the tight channel past his uvula. His mouth falls open and he lifts his arse off the bed, trying to fuck Draco’s perfect throat, but he makes it difficult by always pulling back just enough to make it impossible. He’s actually shaking, muscles straining, as Draco works him at his own deliberately slow pace.

“Draco,” he rasps. His fists clench in their bonds. He can come this way, it’s building with a terrible force in his stomach. But it’s building slowly, as if his body itself has allied itself with Draco in an effort to make him struggle and suffer, all for the harmless glances he’d been shooting Jenkins lately. “Fuck. I —”

“You what?” Draco goads him. He replaces his mouth with his hand again, sliding it leisurely through lube and his own spit and Harry’s pre-come, little spurts of it continuously dribbling down its turgid length. “Sounded suspiciously like you were about to say please …”

Harry grits his teeth and swallows back the begging noises threatening to burst out of him. More blood rushes to his prick, turning the head a worrying purple. He wonders in a slightly hysterical, half-insane way whether he could die from this. From needing to come this badly and not being allowed to. From refusing to beg for it, even when it hurts.

“Well,” says Draco as he releases him and climbs up to straddle his waist, positioning himself above Harry’s cock. It rubs against the cleft of Draco’s arse, teasing him with the possibility of all that tight, gripping heat, and Harry lets out a low moan just thinking about sinking inside of him, of all that friction that’s so close but so fucking far. “At least the Wizarding world can sleep soundly knowing their hero doesn’t easily give into torture.”

“Bully for them,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “Now sit on my fucking cock before I decide to hex you.”

Draco laughs. His pink lips part tantalisingly; the long line of his throat glimmers with sweat and drives Harry to the very brink of fucking madness.

“Are empty threats usually effective in your experience?” Draco asks. He grinds himself along the length of Harry’s prick and lets the head catch on his hole, which he can tell is only loosely stretched. Which also means Draco’d been fingering himself before.

Harry flicks his bound hand and Draco jumps, looking satisfyingly surprised for a moment. Even in spite of his predicament Harry manages a shit-eating grin. Hexes and jinxes are hardly effective done wandlessly but Harry’s rather adept at pulling off a decent Stinging Jinx.

“D’you think that’s a good idea?” Draco asks when he’s gathered himself. There’s a new flush on his cheeks, though, and it’s gorgeous. “Hexing me when I could easily leave you here hard and wanting?”

Harry opens his mouth to make another sarcastic remark (because he can’t fucking help it, even with his libido screaming out in agony for him to fucking leave it, just let Draco have this power trip) but before he can say anything Draco’s lining up and bares down until the head pushes through the ring of muscle — and he stops there. And Harry’s always been good at biting back vocalisations, an ability to stay quiet no matter what is a highly useful skill for an Auror, but when Draco stops and merely squeezes around the head of his cock he lets out an utterly tormented groan, bucking his hips only for Draco to lift up and away.

“Fuck you!” Harry yells, tugging again at his ties and shouting at the futility of it. Draco’s watching this with glazed eyes and wet lips. “Fucking just — god, just sit on my cock, you fucking inbred little cocksucker!”

And Draco laughs, loudly. He bends and touches his lips to Harry’s sweaty forehead, then to his mouth, then his damp and heaving chest and over his stomach and finally delivers a few more chaste kisses to the skin above his pubic hair. Harry’s cock bobs next to his face, pulsing and throbbing and aching. Draco drags his tongue up the side of it and then presses his lips to the head, suckling gently, torturing Harry on purpose. And Harry, he’s not actually sure how much more of this he can take. His arms are aching now. His cock feels too engorged with blood, tight and hard and painful. He physically can’t stop himself from bucking up against Draco’s mouth.

He groans in frustration when Draco pulls off again but then he’s sliding Harry’s cock back into his arse, and not just the head this time. He sinks all the way down, enveloping Harry in all that throbbing, gorgeous heat, and he squeezes so perfectly around him, and Harry cries out and lifts his hips and tries to fight his restraints.

“Not thinking about Jenkins, are you?” Draco says lightly. He rocks his hips a little and Harry whimpers. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard himself whimper like that before.

“Fuck no,” he gasps out. “Just you.”

“Just me,” Draco repeats. He lifts himself up, pauses, and then sinks back down. He hands go to Harry’s chest and he does it again, again, again, fucking himself properly now and Harry can see he’s beginning to lose himself to the sensations finally. That glazed look is back in his eyes and there’s sweat beading at his hairline. “Nobody else could do this to you, Potter.”

Harry would have agreed to anything at this point but he still means it when he nods frantically, beyond caring now that he’s at a major disadvantage, that Draco has successfully taken him apart the way he’s so used to doing.

He’s about to come when Draco stops moving again, seated fully on his lap. Harry lets out a string of curses and creates bruises on his wrists where he strains and wrenches madly against the silky material binding them.

“Draco, please,” he hears himself say. It hardly even sounds like him. “Please, fuck, please, I need — I need to come …”

“I know,” Draco coos. He bends forwards again and kisses him, soft and languid and a little mocking, and Harry’s cock twitches inside of him. “And I’ll let you. But you have to do the rest yourself.”

“What?” Harry asks deliriously. Draco lifts up until just the head is still being squeezed inside his tight heat, and Harry gets the message. “God,” he breathes, even as he bends his knees and plants his feet flat on the mattress, his hand trying of their own accord to reach for Draco’s hips, but they can’t. “You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

Draco laughs until Harry thrust brutally up into him, and then he’s moaning instead, fingers curling against Harry’s chest. Harry has no way of changing angles, of trying to hit Draco’s prostate or make him scream, so instead he focuses on his own pleasure, because really, at this point, it’s what he deserves. He slams up into him over and over, shaking the bed, making his thighs scream with the effort, and by the time he feels his orgasm approaching his dripping with sweat and his shoulders are killing him and he knows there must be terrible bruises on his wrists.

“That’s it,” Draco goads him. His own cock is bobbing precariously above Harry’s stomach, red and swollen and dribbling pre-come out of the slit. “Put your fucking back into it, Potter, fuck me like you mean it.”

Harry lets out a tortured moan and puts his fucking back into it. He feels Draco’s body tense up and clench around him and then release, nails digging into Harry’s skin, and come covers both their chests and hits Harry’s chin.

The soft, exquisite noises Draco makes push Harry past the edge himself and he comes inside of Draco with his veins thrumming; he fucks madly up into him until his come is leaking out around his cock and still he keeps going, sliding through all that slick, working himself until his shaking and weak and can hardly move. Draco takes over again, rocking on top of him, milking him of every last shudder and shiver and moan.

He lies there panting and limbless, and when Draco releases his bonds, his arms fall to his sides and he groans at the soreness of his muscles.

Draco’s kissing him then, drawing his lips apart and ravaging his mouth with his tongue. Eventually Harry lifts one of his aching arms and puts a hand on his cheek, thumb grazing smooth skin.

After a minute and then two and then three, Harry finally mutters, “You didn’t really think I’d sleep with Jenkins, did you?”

Draco draws back and pushes some of his hair out of his face, considering Harry from his place straddling his hips.

“I’m still figuring you out,” he says after some consideration. Harry lifts both eyebrows.

“We’ve been together two and a half years.”

“Yeah,” Draco says. He lifts up and off of Harry, making him hiss. “And I’m still figuring you out, Potter.”

“Right back at you,” Harry says drily. He loves the way it makes Draco grin.

#anna writes #drarry fic #power bottom draco said let me LIVE!!!!#Anonymous #drabble #answered

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thegoodprincess · 3 years

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Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 8

Author: thegoodprincess Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au Word Count: 9.7k [series, ongoing] Rating: N/A Warnings: A few swear words, Jungkook acting like a jerk [but it’s because he’s protective of his hyung], mentions of blood Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

Author’s note: Again I’m sorry my update took so long again. I had a midterm, had to work, and I also dealt with some neck pain from sleeping on it wrong (invest in good pillows guys). This also took me longer to edit because not only did I write more, but I experienced some writer’s block, so I needed a break as well. I also wanted to take my time editing my writing so it didn’t sound like complete crap. Welp, that’s pretty much it. Just for future reference I won’t always be able to update once a week because I have a lot going right now. So don’t worry if I don’t update frequently. I try to shoot for updating on Fridays but since I’m posting this on Saturday, I’ll probably just shoot for the weekends. Also I wanted to shout out and thank @ggukkieland for reblogging my last post. I really appreciate it 💜💜💜. Hope everyone has a pleasant weekend. Until next time I bid you adieu 🤗.

Together We Are Apart but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 8. Return Home

“What if, you and I were meant to part ways, only so that we could find each other again.”

Malachi gave me a pointed look. “Hot chocolate. Hot chocolate is going to get him to leave Mistress.” He was dubious in his delivery.

“Well we can’t just return him home by leaving my cottage in the middle of the forest miles away from the city. We’ll look like some backwoods inbreds looking to peel his skin off and wear it.”

“Is that not two different movies?” Malachi questioned factiously to no doubt be an ass.

“That’s not the point.” I brought my fingers to my forehead to rub my temples. “We need to take precautionary measures and teleport him back to the bolt hole apartment in the city, then return him home.”

“And why can we not just teleport him directly home and wipe his memory and call it a day?”

“Because he may live with family, friends, or a-,” I hesitated before swallowing, “a girlfriend … or boyfriend.” I said disheartened. “Although he did think we ..uh, copulated last night.” I added as an afterthought.

“You’re forgetting humans can be unfaithful in their pursuits,” Malachi advised. “He also may already be married or have children.” He added as if he wanted to pour copious amounts of salt on my wounded heart. I looked at him annoyed. Malachi gave a mischievous smile while attempting to make the rest of him look as innocent as possible.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we can’t just drop him off on his doorstep unconscious with no recollection of last night. That would surely raise lots of questions or worse it’ll lead to some sort of an investigation. If we return him conscious then it will look less suspicious because whoever he lives with is probably aware of his absence and is worried. I can briefly explain what happened and then wipe both of their memories from them. Plus it makes me feel like less of a criminal for breaking in, tip-toeing around, and whispering incantations into people’s ears who are asleep like some ghost in the night.”

“Suddenly you choose to follow morals now?” Malachi asked with skepticism, but I could hear the tease in his tone of voice.

“Oh, hush Malachi,” I bit back a his snarky comment. “Just recite the incantation.”

Malachi rolled his eyes before leaning down to bend his upper body over the cup. Closing his eyes and focusing his energy, he whispered the lengthy spell straight into the liquid of the hot chocolate.

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“My voice lulls you to sleep Allow the darkness of your mind to seep Through the crevices of your conscious mind And into the unconfined Depths of your plentiful dreams. There you will find what seems Like the edges of both what is real And what is surreal Begin to blur. When this occurs, Do not resist, surrender. I desperately urge you to remember What it is you so dearly desire And mold it into something you can truly acquire. Find peace within this thought And do not be distraught When you feel as though You are too slow To rise awake. Do not shake With irrational fear Knowing that you now reside here. Darkness may cloud your vision But if you just envision Looking past the mist, You will bear witness to what exists. And once the veil is lifted, Misjudged shadows will have shifted Shrinking away to eventually lead To the glimpses of light that bleed Through the cracks. Welcome the luminosity as it wraps Around you, bathe in the warmth As you push forth On your path. Know that the darkness holds no wrath It is only there to shield From the Misfortunes that yield Chaos and corruption, That pave way to destruction. Instead willingly allow the shadows to consume you While their energy flows through, Sink your way down As if to drown. Remember, wield the light as your sword Until you are restored To a more conscious state. But until then, this is your fate.”

As his voice rang out sounding like church bells on a crisp morning, the air in the room seemed to shift. It was as though there was a light breeze that had blew around the room. I could feel the hair on my arms rise as an electric current seemed to surge. The drink began to bubble furiously causing the melted marshmallows and chocolate to drip down the edge as a shadowy mist began to emanate from the tips of his fingers. Once Malachi was finished, the room felt calm once again and the drink no longer gurgled but was frothed instead.

“Here,” he slid the cup containing the hot chocolate turned elixir towards me. “Make sure he drinks all of it or the intention will not be set.” I nodded to convey my understanding. “Also would you make sure he changes back into his own clothes before he drinks this, because it should take effect rather quickly and I would like to have my clothing back without having to change him like a newborn child. Plus if he happened to spill that drink, the stains may make it unsalvageable. And those articles are hard to come by in that particular cut, color, and fabric.”

“Yeah, sure thing Mr. fashionista.” I sarcastically quipped gripping the tepid cup handle. Malachi only narrowed his eyes at me in return.

Before returning to Taehyung’s side, I went to retrieve his clothing from in front of the fireplace. All the garments were a bit wrinkled but fully dry none the less. Folding them neatly over my forearm I walked back to my room.

“I brought your hot chocolate,” I announced from the doorway. “By the way Malachi says he’s sorry.” I lied.

“I did not.” I heard Malachi telepathically respond from somewhere else in the house.

“He went to tend to the garden.”

“I am also not doing that.” In the background I could hear him purposely rustling the pages of a book. The distinctive sound of the crisp paper rubbing against the pads of his fingertips echoed in my head. He must have been currently reading in his library.

“Oh, really. Thank you and uh, I guess let him know it’s fine.”

“I do not care.”

Ignoring Malachi’s sour mood, I only shook my head at his unpleasant reply. “Okay. Uh, before you drink that though, could you please change back into your clothes. Malachi just doesn’t want you to potentially ruin his. He thinks the stains would be difficult to remove if you happened to spill any chocolate in them. His words not mine.”

“Finally,” Malachi dramatically emphasized the pronunciation of the word, “you are saying something I can actually agree with.”

Annoyed, I called out Malachi for his nosiness. “Would you go back to reading your book and stop eavesdropping on our conversation.”

“Hey, I am not prying. You are the one carelessly broadcasting your thoughts. Do not think I just did not hear you contemplate how the huma-, er Taehyung’s, hands are so big and if they would cover the expanse of your thig-,”

“Malachi! Don’t you dare finish that thought.” I hastily cut him off. I could hear him snickering to himself at my reaction.

“Uh, are you okay?” Taehyung questioned concerned, his voice ripped me out of my thoughts or rather the ones I was hearing from Malachi.

“Yeah…I, uh, was trying to remember if I, uh, turned the stove off.”

“Did you?”

“Huh, what?” I was still distracted by Malachi telling me how I needed to learn how to lie better. “Oh yeah, let me go check while you change.” I went to leave the room.

“Wait! Aren’t you forgetting something.” Taehyung hurriedly said. I was confused, Taehyung looked down towards my hands. I was still holding his clothes.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mortified by my flightiness, I walked back over to his side and handed them to him. He only smirked at my flustered state. “I, uh, washed them and then dried them by the fireplace last night. They’re a bit wrinkled from air drying them but otherwise they should be fine to wear.” I added blushing.

“That’s fine. I appreciate it. Thank you.” He sounded genuine.

Stepping out of the room so he could change, I quickly turned around and left closing the door behind me. Through the door the sound of the bed creaking was able to carry, followed by the rustling of fabric and the brief sharp hiss of a zipper. The memory of how he looked last night in the firelight came to mind as I imagined him changing. I felt my face grow hot.

“You are hopeless.” Malachi taunted, although it sounded more like he was poking fun at me rather than making a serious insult.

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“I’m done.” Taehyung announced a few minutes later, his voice muffled from the sound of it traveling through the wood of the door.

Coming back into the room, Taehyung was dressed in the same pants he was the night prior as he was seated back on the bed, this time on the edge of it. Noticing he was still wearing Malachi’s shirt I was confused.

“I made your bed for you.” Taehyung declared guiding my attention to the covers that had been neatly tucked back into place.

“Oh, thank you.”

“But, I, uh, need help changing my shirt. It hurts.” He limply raised his arm to emphasize his point.

“Yeah, sure.” My voice cracked as I sat down next to him. Knowing I was now going to see him shirtless while he was conscious suddenly made me extremely nervous. But taking a second to collect myself, I attempted to make my voice sound more confident. I reached towards him and directed him to first pull his good arm through the shirt hole. Then after lifting the shirt over his head to reveal his bare torso, I hastily willed myself to focus on the task at hand. Gently I guided the fabric down his hurt arm to reduce whatever pain he was experiencing. Taehyung now sat completely shirtless in front of me. I expected him to be blushing and unwilling to make eye contact, but that wasn’t the case. Instead he stared intently into my eyes trying to gauge my reaction to him. I couldn’t help but eye the expanse of his chest, noticing the few red angry scratches and blooming blue bruises that decorated his body.

“Don’t they hurt?” I asked my inner thought aloud looking up at him.

“I’m fine.” He gently whispered reassuring me. His pupils were so blown they barely looked brown anymore.

Tearing my eyes away from his, I reached for his shirt. Again I helped guide each of his arms through the sleeves, taking extra care of his injured one before I went to button his shirt. My hands shook slightly whenever they accidentally brushed over his warm skin. I could feel him continue to eye me curiously amused by my flustered state. His breath fanned over my face as he quietly chuckled. While he hadn’t yet brushed his teeth, his breath still smelled sweet like the fruit he had eaten earlier. Somehow by some shear miracle I managed to fasten the last button before I looked up at him again to meet his gaze.

“All done.” My voice unintentionally sounded breathier. I was somewhat taken aback by its tone.

“Thank you.” He offered me a boxy grin.

Awkwardly directing my eye-line towards the nightstand, I remembered the hot beverage sitting a top it. “Well, your hot chocolate should have cooled off enough by now.”

“Oh, yeah. I can smell it from here. It smells delicious by the way. Uh,” Taehyung paused to look around, “should I drink it sitting on the bed or…”

“You can sit on the bed. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure. What if I spill it?” Taehyung was unconvinced by my carefree reaction.

“It’s okay.” I reassured. “The blankets can be washed if anything happens.” I knew it would be best if he drank the drink sitting in the bed. He would surely pass out soon after drinking it, but I wasn’t sure how soon. So the safest bet was to have him just be already in the bed. It would be too difficult to try to move him when he was unconscious and I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable if he fell asleep in an unusual upright position.

“Okay.” He took his first sip, still cautious of the temperature. He was given an unintentional mustache from emerging his top lip in the rim of the drink. While he didn’t say anything in terms of a reaction, his eyes suddenly lit up at what I assumed was the taste of the silky chocolate. “Mmm.” Cherishing the flavor at first, he slowly sipped the liquid before he hastily chugged the remainder down. His Adam’s apple bobbed in sequence as he swallowed with large audible gulps. A small exhale of air immediately followed by a burp and hiccup caused his cheeks to redden from his questionable manners, rather than the after effects of the warmth provided from guzzling down the hot chocolate. “Sorry.” Taehyung lowered his head sheepishly and looked up at me from under his eyelashes.

“I’ll take it that it was good then?” I laughed the query.

“Good? It was amazing!” He declared excitedly like a child. He licked the frothy mustache away from his upper lip.

Then almost instantly it was as though his state of awareness had shifted. His uneven eyelids began to droop and his facial features relaxed. Succumbing to the blissful state, he unwittingly announced, “It’s funny, I feel so tired now.” His voice sounded hoarse and had an evident rasp to it.

“That’s fine, go back to sleep for a little while if you want Tae.” I encouraged softly.

“Hmm. Okay.” He nodded lazily before completely passing out. His head gently fell back on the pillows.

Taking a few minutes to make absolutely sure he was asleep and would stay asleep, I then called Malachi to my bedroom.

“Did it work?” Malachi questioned while walking through the threshold. He was nonchalantly examining his nails before he made eye contact with me.

“Yeah.” Then it dawned on me, “Wait, what do you mean ‘did it work?’”

“If you think I do not know what I am doing, then you have no faith in my abilities. And I am offended.” Malachi stated with mock hurt. He even placed his hand on his chest to really drive the point. I narrowed my eyes at him, pursing my lips. “What I meant was,” he dramatically exhaled, “is that I am surprised he fell under the spell so quick. The fastest it has ever taken affect was within ten minutes, not ten seconds.” Malachi scrunched his eyebrows in response to his thoughtfulness. “I knew it was fast acting, I just did not think it was that fast acting. I suppose it is because his subconscious is more prone to accepting influence though.”

“Oh. Well in that case, are you ready?”

“To be rid of him, yes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can you grab him then.”

“Sure.” Even though I could hear the annoyance in his voice at the mild inconvenience that he had to carry Taehyung, Malachi still reached down to pick him up. While he was gentle in the way he initially grabbed him, the way he moved his arms to swing Taehyung over his shoulder, troubled me.

“Hey, don’t hold him like that.” I warned. Malachi readjusted his hold, and instead held Taehyung bridal style. Taehyung’s head calmly rested in the crook of Malachi’s neck. Malachi had disgust painted across his face as plain as day; he looked as though someone had told him to pull soggy bread from the dirty dish water of a sink. He visibly shuddered when he felt Tae’s breath on his neck. “Could you be more amicable, or at least make the effort to try.”

Swallowing down his revulsion, Malachi turned his attention back to me. “Why is he so heavy? Did you have to feed him so much?” He complained.

“Are you calling him fat?”

“Well I am not calling him thin. At least he does not feel that way. He is a lot denser than he looks.” Malachi flippantly replied.

“Would you be quiet. You’re being insufferable.”

“What is insufferable is the fact that I have to carry him around as if we were just married.”

“He isn’t a sack of potatoes you can just throw over your shoulder y’know.”

“He sure feels like one.” Malachi riposted.

“Malachi!” I warned.

“Hmph.”

“Let’s just go, shall we.” I linked my arm around one of his and he teleported us to a bolt hole we owned in the city.

Upon our arrival to a bedroom of an apartment we barely ever used, Malachi gingerly placed Taehyung back in a wooden platform bed.

“Gross your human drooled on me.” Malachi complained wiping off his collar where Taehyung’s head previously resided.

“My human?”

“Well he surely is not mine.” With his nose turned up, Malachi said it as though he was stating the obvious.

I couldn’t help myself from breaking out into a smile. Quickly making an effort to compose my features, I placed my hands over my mouth to hide my beaming face. Malachi didn’t miss my reaction and only rose a single eyebrow in a silent question. “Shut up.” I mumbled out flustered. He dramatically rolled his eyes and sighed out.

Taking a moment to examine our surroundings, the first thing I noticed was the citrusy scent that filled the room. The pleasant aroma of freshly cut lemons tickled my nose, almost as though someone had been baking a lemon meringue pie. Wondering why it smelled this way, I figured Malachi had left some sort of an automatic air freshener in the apartment rather than actually practice culinary skills in his spare time. Because while it smelled clean, taking further inspection of the vicinity, I could see a thin layer of dust coating the surface of most of the furnishings in the room.

I walked over to the window to let not only some much needed light, but some fresh air as well into the room to combat its dust-filled condition. Upon pushing the curtains aside, the incoming sunbeam only illuminated the flecks of hovering dust motes in the air. The way they seemed to sparkle in the light vaguely reminded me of the drops of dew caught in a spider’s web. There was something wondrously phenomenal about the scene. I turned the latch and cracked the window open. Immediately a crisp breeze blew through the room, and while it was cold, it still felt refreshing. Tucking Taehyung tightly under the blankets, I wanted to make sure he would stay warm despite the slightly chilly temperature. When I deemed the room to be less stale, I closed the window. Immediately sensing one less presence in the room, I knew that Malachi had left.

“I left to straighten up. I suggest you do the same. The condition of this place looks as though it is an estate that has been abandoned for centuries.” Malachi voiced from inside my head. While I knew he was purposefully exaggerating the untidiness of the apartment, I could still hear his utter distaste for what he was seeing. “Dear god, there are so many dust bunnies.”

Leaving the bedroom to go retrieve a duster from the living room, I took note of the state of the rest of the apartment.

“Horrid, is it not?” Malachi joked while distracted. He was rigorously dusting off a massive metal bookcase full of leather bound novels, decorative vases, and other specifically curated knick-knacks that were quintessential to the aesthetic.

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded, biting my bottom lip in worry.

The apartment was contemporary in décor with its minimalistic elements of incorporating neutral colors, geometric shapes, and lots of natural light. The sofa was a soft leather texture in a shade similar to butterscotch, it sat near a walnut wood and glass coffee table that was round. Accompanying the set up were shapely velvet accent chairs that were black. Oversized abstract art hung on the backdrop of the beige and white colored walls. Globe string lights, cute ambient pendant lamps, and an interesting Sputnik chandelier provided an extra warm glow to the room. Various potted plants of different sizes not only filled any noticeably empty space but occupied a few corners of the room. Surprised by their jungle green leaves, I quickly remembered that they had been enchanted to not wilt when we were away for too long to properly water them. The birch wood floors were decorated with a ivory colored woven area rug that seemed to complete the look. Overall, the chic and refined atmosphere that looked almost museum-like gave a completely different vibe in comparison to the more romantic and rural nature-filled elements of my cottage.

While the aesthetic was satisfying to the eyes, it wasn’t as cozy as my cottage. I couldn’t help but feel like it was missing something in terms of comfort. It felt almost impersonal, like a stage meant to display the appearance of the perfect home. That was one of the main reasons Malachi and I never resided here in the city. This apartment was just a bolt hole, a place we could use when we needed to stay in the city or escape to when our energy wasn’t at its fullest and we needed a place to rest. For Malachi it was also a place to store his books; as one of the rooms was completely lined with shelves that went all the way up to the ceiling and were filled with books of every genre. He even had a rolling ladder that swiveled along his makeshift library. We never really found ourselves taking up residence here, which was why the apartment was in the state it was in. Therefore, it desperately needed to be cleaned so that it was more presentable and at least gave the illusion that we really did live here.

“Do you think it looks bad?” I nervously fluffed the gray pillows on the sofa.

“No, we just need to dust for now. Are you planning to give him a tour of the place or something?”

“What? No!” I was growing irritated at Malachi’s incessant accusations that I was trying too hard to befriend Taehyung. “I already told you, we’re taking him home as soon as he wakes up.”

“Then he should not notice. From what I have noticed humans are not ones to really analyze such small details, otherwise they would not find themselves in such predicaments where they expose themselves to situations that result in dangerous and often deadly outcomes. They are too fickle for that.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Plus he will probably be too busy staring at your face to notice the lack of cleanliness in the apartment.” I knit my eyebrows together at his assertion. “Forgive me I have said too much.” Malachi went back to furiously battling the army of dust bunnies that had taken over the shelves.

After finding a worn rag, I returned to the bedroom to clean up. Wiping off the headboard, tops of tables, shelves, between table top decorations, lampshades, and picture frames where dust had collected, I found the room’s appearance greatly improved. I even managed to clear some of the spider webs that had been gathering in the corners of the upper walls. Combined with the smell of lemons, fresh air, natural light, and no longer dusty furniture, the former room that had stood idle for an unspecified amount of time, was now a more open and inviting space. There was only one more precaution that needed to be taken care of.

Looking around the room there was an obvious difference in the layout of this bedroom and my bedroom. This bedroom was more attuned to the refinement of an IKEA with its white walls, wooden accents, and hanging planters than the quaint cluttered coziness of my own room. Taehyung had been conscious for quite some time in my bedroom, so I feared he would definitely notice; the first thing being the bedding. They were a powder blue cotton material as opposed to my white silk sheets. I decided it would be best to cast an illusion charm on the room to mask this bedroom with my own. Closing my eyes I softly uttered the spell. When I opened them, I recognized my own room.

It looked almost identical [and I say almost because the natural sources of light and the way it shone throughout the room could not be replicated]. The walls were now painted a dusty pink and while the wooden accents of the room remained, they were white instead of their more natural woodsy color. The semi sheer linen curtains were replaced by frilly lace ones with delicate eyelets. Floral printed pillows, wicker baskets, candles, and fine china ornaments filled the empty space. The hanging plants still remained too, but dried flowers, fresh flowers, and numerous other houseplants accompanied them on the walls and table tops as well to create an almost indoor garden. Even my bed had changed in appearance. Taehyung now slept in a white metal bed frame with whimsical curves and was wrapped up in the familiar white silk sheets. When I deemed the arrangement of the room acceptable, I left to go find Malachi again.

Back in the living room Malachi lounged lazily on the sofa with his legs propped up on the coffee table. “Mistress I am not going with you to return him.” Malachi nonchalantly stated with his back turned away from me. He didn’t even spare so much as a glance over his shoulder. Instead he carelessly flipped through the pages of a random book he was attempting to read.

“Why not?” I pouted, taking a seat next to him.

“I can barely stand his presence. What makes you think I want to be around more of them. Plus I am sure the bolt hole needs to be more thoroughly cleaned. You know swept and mopped… the whole works.”

“Whatever, “ I grimaced. “But you know once I wipe all their memories, I’ll be significantly weaker.”

“Ah, the solution to your predicament would be to simply summon me. Easy, is it not?”

“No,” I childishly whined out, lengthening the vowel.

“What would you possibly need me there for then?”

“Moral support.” I smiled mischievously at him, aware of the blatantly low brow pun I made.

“Seriously,” he answered impassively. Malachi didn’t seem to be amused.

“Please.” I begged.

“I refuse,” he turned his nose up.

“Pretty please with feathers on top.”

“That does not even make any sense.” I opened my eyes wide and tucked my top lip into my bottom one.

“Oh, no.” He became flustered. “Don’t give me those awful puppy dog eyes you’ve learned to mimic from those bratty cherubs you’re so fond of. It will not work this time.”

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It was a few hours later when Taehyung finally awoke. He claimed it was the best sleep he had ever had. That was good considering I was worried the spell would cause him to experience something akin to sleep paralysis, but I couldn’t help feel a bit guilty knowing the true reason behind his sweet dreams. After agreeing to accompany him home to properly meet his friends, two boys he lived with, he had explained that he would need me there to provide backup. Since he hadn’t been in touch with them since he left for work early yesterday morning, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the wrath he would be facing as a result of the extreme worry he put them through.

That’s what led to Taehyung, Malachi and I standing outside of Taehyung’s apartment knocking on the door. Malachi looked incredibly peeved to be standing there beside us. His shoulders where hunched with his arms crossed, but the worst part was he was agitatedly tapping his foot on the ground.

“How long does it take someone to open the damn door. I loathe people who take their time.” Malachi bit the inside of his cheek, irked.

“Behave.” I warned.

“Let us just get this over with.” Malachi groaned in annoyance. “I can not believe you suckered me into coming here.” Malachi complained to me.

“I can’t believe you’re gullible enough to have puppy dog eyes actually work on you.” I snickered. The sound of Malachi grunting irritated reached my ears, just as the door to Taehyung’s apartment swung open to reveal two unfamiliar faces. Worry followed by shock, and then confusion flashed across their faces in a succession. With open mouths their eyes darted back and forth between the three of us. They both appeared to be trying to piece together the dynamic of how we knew each other. The one with a more petite stature and pink hair looked mildly intrigued. His eyes held genuine interest and his eyebrows bounced as if awaiting an explanation. The other one with more of a muscular build and dark hair had more apathetic posture. However, it was his expressive doe eyes that gave him away. Looking beyond the calm and composed nature of his gaze, there was an unmistakable glint of concern reflected in his dark and glossy irises.

“Taehyung,” one with pink hair and a higher pitched voice stuttered out sounding shocked, “Oh, hello.” He continued when he noticed Malachi and I standing there beside Taehyung. He looked a bit startled to see strangers.

“Who are you?” The other immediately questioned without hesitation, his voice stronger than the other’s. He suspiciously eyed both Malachi and I, while doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was scrupulously looking us up and down. But before I could answer, Taehyung spoke up instead and gave him a warning glare.

“They’re my new friends.” The one with black hair furrowed his eyebrows taken aback for a moment before he schooled his features. The pink haired one sensing the slightly awkward discord that both boys were exuding, suddenly spoke up.

“Hey, no need to be rude Kookie,” the petite boy said disapprovingly. “Don’t mind him, he means well.” Kookie gave him a dirty look. Ignoring the scowl, the petite boy continued, “Why don’t you guys come in and we can all introduce ourselves.” The petite one stepped aside, pulling the one with black hair along with him. We politely removed our shoes after entering through the door, and were led into their living room.

Observing their décor, I noticed that while their apartment was smaller than ours, it was decorated with more personality. It was somewhat fascinating to witness. The items that immediately stood out to me were the countless pictures that lined the walls and were scattered across various other surfaces. While the picture frames at our apartment often displayed art and other decorative pieces like printed quotes; theirs’ were filled with photos of the individual boys, them with each other, their families, and their other friends. Just from their pictures I could tell the three of them were apart of a much larger group of friends. Their candid moments were captured, showcasing their seemingly happy lives through their smiling faces.

“Have a seat.” The one with pink hair kindly gestured to their sofa while he sat in a love seat adjacent to it. Taehyung sat next to me on the sofa while Malachi sat down on the opposite side of me. The one referred to as Kookie chose to stand at first, leaning menacingly against a wall with his arms crossed before the petite one scolded him. He told him to pull up a chair from the kitchen table to sit in and to quit putting on such an intimidating façade when we all knew he was nothing more than an overgrown bunny. In response to the playful yet slightly demeaning tease, Kookie nearly snarled. Stomping his way over to the kitchen, he dragged a chair over. The unpleasant sound of wood roughly scraping against wood filled our ears. Finally, he begrudgingly sat down with a huff and spread his legs wide as if to assert his dominance. Taehyung only shook his head to show his chagrin.

“Where have you been and why didn’t you think to call?” Kookie suddenly questioned breaking the silence. There was an antagonistic undertone in the way he articulated his speech.

“Yeah, we were worried.” The petite one agreed.

“Sorry. I lost my phone.” Taehyung sheepishly answered.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your new friends?” The petite one inquisitively implored.

“Oh, this is Thalia,” Tae pointed towards me. I politely waved. “And her roommate Malachi.” Malachi only casually nodded in response.

“Hello Thalia. I’m Jimin.” The petite one acknowledged, offering his hand.

“Nice to meet you.” I briefly shook it, but he seemed to be more occupied with wanting to receive Malachi’s attention.

“Malachi,” Jimin seemed captivated by him. I made sure to telepathically warn Malachi to behave so we wouldn’t have a repeat of the earlier incident when he first was introduced to Taehyung.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Malachi forced out. I could hear the edge in his voice. It was rather amusing to see Jimin shake Malachi’s hand for a prolonged period of time and Malachi’s mild annoyance at the situation.

“Why will he not let go?” Malachi sounded genuinely perplexed. I bit the inside of my mouth in an attempt to keep myself from outright laughing. “Well a least his hands are soft,” he sighed out.

Distracted by the interesting interaction between Jimin and Malachi, the other boy curtly introduced himself. “I’m Jungkook.” He quickly raised his eyebrows to signify his lack of enthusiasm. “Hyung, are you now going to explain how you ended up gone for like thirty-six hours?”

“Actually I was going to have them explain.” Taehyung pointed in our direction.

“Coward.” Malachi declared.

“Long story short, basically I slipped on some ice and blacked out. They found me and took me to their apartment to recover.” Taehyung was nonchalant in his retelling of the story, even choosing to laugh near the end. He nervously scratched the back of his neck, smiling while his eyes turned into half moons. His friends didn’t look amused though, instead they were shocked. Their eyes nearly popped out of their skulls.” Jimin looked as though he needed to pick up his jaw off the floor. Jungkook just looked pissed that Taehyung was treating the topic so lightly.

“Oh my god. Are you hurt? How’s your head? Why didn’t you call us to let us know what happened?” Jimin offered the series of questions slightly upset.

“I’m fine. I don’t have a head injury. I actually hurt my arm, but the pain is minor. I already told you I lost my phone.”

“What hyung meant was that you could have used their phone.” Jungkook pointed at us. The problem was that we didn’t have a phone. I started sweating trying to think of an excuse.

“I will handle it.” Before Malachi could calmly cover our asses, Taehyung intervened with his own proclamation.

“But I don’t have your numbers memorized.”

“What! Bullshit. We’ve been texting for years and you don’t remember our numbers by heart.” Jungkook exclaimed offended.

“I have you saved in my phone as kookie and, uh, soulmate.” He whispered the last word a bit embarrassed that he referred to his best friend as his soulmate. “Platonically of course.” He made sure I heard that part. “The only number I know by heart is my mom’s.” Jungkook rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s confession.

Jimin spoke up, “Well, uh, that’s fine then.”

“It’s not fine.” Jungkook complained.

“Jungkook-,” Jimin warned. “What’s important is that Tae is safe. Uh, are your friends going to fill us in on the details you failed to leave out? Or-,”

“Yeah, they’ll explain how they found me. I need to take a shower anyway, I feel gross.” He looked down at his clothes and pulled the fabric away from him. “You two will still be here when I come out right?” He turned to make eye contact with me. His face looked anxious.

“Yes, we’ll be here. Don’t worry.” I nodded smiling in reassurance. Malachi didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the issue. But we didn’t have much of a choice, considering we needed to wipe all of their memories of them ever encountering us.

“Okay, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He got up and hurried off to what I assumed was his room. Minutes later the spray of the shower head could be faintly heard from down the hall.

While Taehyung was occupied with freshening up, Jimin had offered Malachi and I some refreshments. Malachi requested tea while I just opted for sipping some water. And whilst doing so I reiterated the story of how I found Tae. This time it was much less daunting to tell the white lies as I had had practice rehearsing it with Malachi and actually recited it to Tae, but now I also had Malachi by my side to fill in any of the mildly concerning blanks. Thankfully the two boys seemed to wholeheartedly believe us. They never even asked any intense questions. From the looks of it though I could tell Jungkook wanted to question us more harshly, but each time he had the chance to Jimin sent a reprimanding look his way that deterred him from doing so.

Just as soon as he left Taehyung returned. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends and the smell of lavender scented lotion wafted off him when he took a seat next to me. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts. This look was much more relaxed compared to the more elegant dress clothes he was wearing earlier. While it was simple, it didn’t take away from the fact that he was just as handsome as ever.

“Careful, you are drooling.” Malachi taunted. Jimin was currently conversing with him and Jungkook seemed dazed. He looked as though he was staring off into space trying to process every detail of what I had told him about how Malachi and I had found Taehyung. I wouldn’t put it past him to be looking for any slip-ups in our story. Suddenly I felt a shift in the sofa cushion. Taehyung’s bare thigh brushed against my clothed one.

“Hey can I talk to you alone for a moment.” He whispered in my ear as the others were distracted. His peppermint breath fanned over my ear in the process, and I had to suppress a shudder. I nodded. We both quietly rose from the sofa in an attempt to sneak away from their unsuspecting eyes. Unfortunately Jimin picked up on our antics and sent Taehyung a knowing wink, while Jungkook only looked away blushing. It was the first time he appeared more shy in his demeanor.

“You keep those two busy for the time being, while I deal with Tae.”

Malachi clicked his tongue and shook his head. “So this is the reason you brought me here. To babysit.”

“Hush Malachi and just do as I ask. Plus you may find that you actually enjoy the company of humans.”

“I thoroughly doubt that. I am not a proponent of mingling with their kind. But I will do it. I just will not find it pleasant.”

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Taehyung showed me around his room, pointing to pictures and interesting objects he possessed or were gifted to him. When he had his back to me, I sneakily ran my fingertips over some of his belongings and was able to pick up on the energy that was attached to the sentimental pieces. Flashes of memories played through my head as if they were snapshots. I was pulled from the mental photo book of images when I heard him speak up.

“It’s funny, I feel like you’re my guardian angel with you helping me and all.” he joked as he fidgeted with a random trinket he had in his hands. I forced a smile and laughed awkwardly at the irony of it all.

“We should hang out sometime. I could maybe buy you dinner or something. You know as a thank you. I mean if that’s something you’d be willing to do… with me.” He said as he scratched the back of his neck. “It doesn’t have to be a date though, unless you want it to be.” His voice softened towards the end. He was being awkward, his eyes shifting around the room only to make eye contact with me at the end of his offer to gauge my reaction. An almost feverish blush broke out across the bridge of his nose and spanned across his cheeks.

“That would be lovely,” I lied knowing I couldn’t actually accept the proposal.

“Great.” He said a little to excitedly. “Can I have your number or would it be better if I gave you mine.”

“Isn’t your phone lost?” I furrowed my eyebrows playfully at him.

“Oh yeah, shit, I forgot. Uh, how about you just write your number down for me,” he scrambled through his desk drawers for some stationery. Finally, he just settled for a slightly wrinkled piece of scrap paper. He then pulled a pen with its cap moderately chewed on from a cup of writing utensils. Offering me the two writing materials he continued, “I’ll text you as soon as I get a new phone. Which will probably be by tomorrow or the day after at the latest.” He rambled. Anxiety welled up inside me because I didn’t have a phone number to give him, I only nodded stiffly making no attempt to grab the items from his hands. Staring at the pen and paper, I struggled to remember just how many digits were even in a phone number, so when I gave him a fake one he wouldn’t find me strange. He must have sensed my panic, mistaking it for apprehension, because he quickly suggested another alternative. He hurriedly set the paper and pen aside on his dresser. “Or if you’re not comfortable with that I could just give you Jungkook’s number, no scratch that I’ll give you Jimin’s instead, so you can keep in touch. Jungkook never even looks at his texts anyway.” He hastily offered. “I’ll go get it.” Just as he was about to leave the room, I abruptly called his attention back to me knowing now was the time to sever our ties. This interaction had gone on way longer than I intended and I knew Malachi would begin to get impatient if I didn’t act soon.

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“Tae?” My voice wobbled.

“Yes.” He immediately turned and stopped in his tracks, he sounded almost breathless.

“May, I hug you goodbye for now?” I asked, my voice nearly breaking. It wasn’t for now, it was for the last time, for forever.

“Sure,” he promptly answered, not even taking the time to think over my request or notice my odd wording. He immediately opened his arms wide to receive me.

Nearly running towards him, I hugged him tight as I breathed in his scent. I noticed he not only smelled like the sweet calming scent of lavender but a hint of chamomile as well. His own unique natural musk was faintly mixed in too.

“This is nice.” He hummed out, hugging me back with just as much intensity.

I laughed halfheartedly knowing what I was going to do next. “I’m sorry.” I whispered in his ear, a few stray tears escaped over the rims of my eyes. They dripped carelessly onto the warm skin of his neck. He must of felt them because he flinched slightly at the unmistakable moisture.

“Wha-,” he sounded confused before I began, I took a steady breath to recite the spell.

“Remember to forget That we have ever met, Wipe me from your memory. Let this be your remedy To make it as though You will never know Me, even in your dreams. While it may seem That this is unfair, You must be made aware That it is for your safety. Forgive my frailty For allowing myself to get so close. Greedily taking the most Only to pull so far away. I should have kept you at bay, Knowing it was forbidden. Yet like a moth hidden From your unsuspecting view, I was drawn to the flame that was you. But now like a discarded ember, I urge you to forget to remember.”

I whispered the memory spell in his ear. Almost immediately he went stiff as if he were immobilized. From where I stood, I witnessed goosebumps break out on his arms and his hairs stood on end. His arms then fell limply to his sides and hung there. As if waiting for the next command, he stood up straight with a frighteningly blank expression reflected in his irises. They were void of all their warmth and intensity making it seem as though he was an empty shell of a person.

Instead they were clouded in a haze the color of dark pewter. The color seemed to swirl around like a raging storm at sea in his glassy stare. He was pliant under my influence, standing at the ready to receive orders.

I rested my forehead against his, I then kissed him to fully seal the spell. Perhaps it was my own self deception, but I swore it felt like he was kissing me back. Pulling away his eyes still held no emotion, which I was somewhat hurt by, even though I knew it was irrational to hope for him to be affected by it when he was incapacitated. I grabbed his hand and led him over to his bed. I pulled back his blankets and guided him to lay down.

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“Go to sleep. And when you wake, it will be as though I never existed.” His eyes instantly flickered closed at my instruction.

Since arriving here I had been conflicted with the idea of giving Taehyung a parting gift or rather a kind of amulet that would protect him from bad omens. I was reluctant, knowing Malachi wouldn’t be so fond of the idea; however, I knew if I didn’t, I would regret not doing so. So I decided to go through with creating one.

Plucking exactly five strands of white hair from my head, the snap of the fibers could be faintly heard in my ears when they were delicately tugged from my scalp. Each strand pulled seemed to glimmer when they were held up towards the light. The sheen was something akin to spun starlight.

Each strand was specifically chosen with the purpose to embody a significant essence: one to represent my own self, while another represented him, the third my resolve to protect, the fourth his emerging future, and the last was the strand that would bind my protectorship to the prospects of his future.

After all the strands were pulled taunt, I began the practice of meticulously winding the hairs around each other. The first strand that represented myself was twisted around the one that represented my protection and was subsequently set aside for later. That same procedure was done to the strands that represented Taehyung and his future. A few moments later, the strand symbolizing me that I had previously set aside, was grabbed and placed next to the one that symbolized Taehyung. Reaching for the last strand, it was then firmly wrapped around both of the two separate newly thicker strands, to prominently intertwine them together. When I deemed my work satisfactory, I took the singular braided strand and weaved it around my fingers to create a cat’s cradle.

But just as I was about to recite a protective incantation, Malachi’s voice rang out through my head. “May I so kindly inquire what is taking so long?” Malachi wasn’t so much rude, as he was at most anxious. There was a nervous edge in his voice. I could imagine him restlessly fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt and adjusting the collar to make it more comfortable. He probably assumed I was having trouble with carrying out the task of wiping Taehyung’s memory.

“Malachi I have already done the deed. Now if you would be so good to award me sufficient time and privacy to have my final goodbye, it would be much appreciated.” I said as though I was mourning a loss. “Please.”

“Fine. I shall allow it,” He sighed out. “Take all the time you need, Mistress. Til then, I will be waiting.”

“Thank you.” When I was sure Malachi could no longer tap into my thoughts, I took a second to focus my dwindling energy and then initiated the narration of the charm directly into the freshly woven plait.

“Protect him When things look grim. Keep him safe Having faith That all is well. As my final farewell Ward off evil And those considered lethal. Do away with danger Now that I am a stranger. But with my love Have him sail high above In the billowing clouds. Looking down on the crowds Of sorrowful souls lost Who have paid the cost Of lying in a watery grave Never to be forgave Only to be forever tethered In the desolate pressured Abyss of the sea of peril. Its nature alarmingly untamed and feral. Instead have him prosper And conquer His trials and tribulations. Not be bound by limitations. To flourish like a garden, His mistakes pardoned Learning slow and steady Being ready To weather all life’s storms. Rejecting malformed And misshapen intentions Set by others’ pretensions. Have the world be his oyster, His hopes and dreams not be cloistered. I wish him luck on his path, As I will now not be apart of his future, present, or past. While uttering the ritual incantation, the newly fashioned strand was intricately looped around itself to create a closed circle in the design that currently resided between both my hands. As soon as that was complete, the strand was sharply yanked taunt again with a single precise pull, and wrapped once around Taehyung’s wrist. The two ends were then coiled together to not only secure it in place, but indefinitely bind the spellwork inside the pieces of hair. Consequent to its closure, the once white strand had transformed black, meaning the magic had successfully been incorporated into it.

A few tears still remained on my cheeks, I gently brushed them away with my fingertips. Upon closer inspection the beads of moisture had legitimately crystallized. Closing my palms around the crystals and shutting my eyes, I elaborately envisioned the crystal lattices being transfigured into tiger’s eye quartz. I imagined their golden color and silky luster replacing the transparency and rigid structure of my crystalline tears. Soon I began to feel something cool to the touch and weighted in my palms. Startled by the realization that the alchemy had worked, I opened my eyes to discover that there were several of the chatoyant gemstones with their beautiful striations nestled in the palms of my hands. Then performing the final and most grueling step, I offered my hands with my palms facing up and raised them out in front of me. Silently asking for something to attach the gems to the makeshift bracelet, I was presented with silver rings from seemingly out of nowhere. Flinching at the cold feeling of the metal, they laced like slithering snakes between the gaps of my fingers and interlocked around themselves. Slowly I slid them over my knuckles to get them off. Immediately upon coming in contact with the tiger’s eye, they proceeded to penetrate straight through the quartz. To my surprise the rings smoothly glided down the contours of my hands and sought to entwine themselves within the hairs of the bracelet, as if they were green ivy wound around Greek columns.

“This will protect you in the event you find yourself in any sort of trouble.” I thought aloud.

At my declaration a warm wetness slid out of my nose. At first I thought it was mucus dripping from my runny nose. After all I had been crying. However, upon further observation, I realized it was blood after the offending liquid ran over my lips and I went to wipe it away. The unmistakable ruby color and metallic taste were obvious signs that my nose was bleeding. I knew it was the result of me pushing my powers beyond their usual limit. But I couldn’t find it in me to care that I now had blood messily smeared along the lower half of my face. The only thing that was occupying my mind was the fact that this was the last time I would be able to interact freely with Taehyung again.

Grabbing his hand, I held it in both of mine and pressed it to my forehead. I continued to cry. The little self composure I had broke under the flood of emotions I was experiencing. I reminisced the small but significant encounters we had with one another, some being from before we officially met and others from the little moments of him just being in my presence and sharing seemingly meaningless conversations. I thought of the first time I saw him, the first time he smiled his boxy grin and the way his eyes turned upwards, and the first time he genuinely laughed with his whole body. I could remember the sound as clear as a bell. I recollected the first time he addressed me and how there was so much wonder reflected in his eyes. The way he said my name and how his mouth formed the syllables was something I would never forget. In these last few instances I could pull from my memory the feel of his skin and the warmth he emitted when I hugged him goodbye. I felt kind of pathetic for having such evocative feelings for a boy I barely knew. While those memories were intense and a melancholic reminder of what once was, I knew in due time they would eventually bring a comforting smile to my face whenever I thought of them.

But for now, I only wished to be human. I currently felt like one, with all the intense emotions I was feeling. If I had been one, I would have at least had the pleasure of knowing him and maybe even had the chance to be something more to him, something meaningful. That’s what broke my heart the most, simultaneously being so close to him and yet so very far away knowing we could never be together. Now as I sat watching his sleep enchanted figure it felt as though I had flew too close to the sun, only to get burned and be sent falling perilously back to the ground.

Haphazardly wiping the heated tears off my face, “Well, this is where our paths part,” I hiccuped, “I bid you farewell.” I muttered softly squeezing his hand, the words nearly getting stuck in the back of my throat. Reaching out I lovingly stroked his cheek. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye because it was too painful. Then without taking so much as a second glance, I left the room. Paired with the new knowledge that I was finally able to figure out his name and actually get the opportunity to engage with him, it made walking away so much harder than the last time.

Greeting Malachi in the living room, I noticed the two other boys passed out peacefully on their couch, looking as though they were fast asleep. Malachi only nodded at me to acknowledge my presence.

“Done?” Malachi tentatively asked the closed question. He could tell I was hurting, his eyes solicitously searching into my red ones. They softened as he awaited my answer.

“Yeah.” I sounded dead inside.

Attempting to distract from the pain of the situation, Malachi joked pointing to the two boys. “I can not believe you left me with those two. All the muscular one with the bunny teeth and piercings did was sit there quietly and stare. He looked as though he was judging me the entire time. Like he had any right to,” Malachi scoffed. “While the one with pink hair and pouty lips just asked me a bunch of questions and then proceeded to giggle at my deadpan delivery. I know I am not that funny. And he would not stop touching me.”

I shook my head at Malachi’s inability to pick up on when a human was attempting to flirt with him. “You’re dense you know that.” Mentally I sent him flashes of people flirting in similar ways that I had seen in media, as well as ones I had witnessed in my real life pursuits. His eyebrows rose in realization. “And you’re awfully observant of the humans you are so-called appalled by.”

Catching on to what I was insinuating, his eyes shot open again, but this time they looked as though they would nearly pop out of his skull. “Hold your tongue. I just have eyes and I choose to use them. Do not misconstrued my words or delude yourself-,” I rose a single eyebrow questioning his defensive tone and he brought his rant to a sudden halt. “I apologize Mistress.” His shoulders deflated a little and his head hung low, ashamed of his combative outburst.

“S’okay. You wiped their memories of us right?” I eyed each of the boys.

“Yes.”

“Good.” I granted him a smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

“This is for the best.” He kindly offered, reaching out to rub soothing circles on my back.

Looking up at him, “I know. Or at least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.”

“Shall we leave?” He wiped his thumb over my chin to try to remove some of the dried blood on it.

“Yes. Let’s go.” I voiced.

“Come then, little bird.” Malachi nodded reaching for my hand. He grabbed it and teleported us back home to my cottage in the forest.

Like the night, we were cloaked in a billowy plume of dark mist, seemingly gone from sight.

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #v fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts supernatural au #bts angel au #taehyung x oc #bts army #Youtube

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cannibalcreeps · 4 years

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Bro and sis meeting their cousin(s) for the first time?

I’ll do you one better and add in baby brother Three-Toes as well (aka baby Splooge but we’ll call him Three-Toes here) cause screw the movie gonna make it as though no one died and their lil bro is with them.

Now, time for these mutated cannibals to meet their cousins! -----

Sister Odet: Was present for the birthing, you think you’re giving birth at a hospital or with medically trained professionals? Oh honey no, this is an inbred cannibalistic family, your cooch is gonna be seen by the rest of the family.

Well, really by any family members present during the birthing of your first child. That being Sister, Ma, Three-Fingers, Old Man Grandpa Maynard and after a lot of convincing, begging and then finally just going with threatening, you forced Saw-Tooth to be present to witness his child coming into the world.

Sister’s job was simply to take orders from grandpa and get what you needed as you were pushing a damn mutant child out of you, she was there for her baby brothers birthing so this was nothing to her. She would watch as Ma got between your legs and helped you push out the baby as you let out one last scream and caught the little girl in the blankets before wrapping her up and holding her close.

Sister was surprised to see that it was a little girl, so small and tiny, she would reach out to have the crying child hold her finger, cooing at her cousin until she was passed off to Saw-Tooth to look at. It wouldn’t be until the next day would Sister get to see the child with the rest of the family, you yourself were having a banger of a time dealing with your body healing after a birth, unlike Ma you didn’t exactly have the healing abilities to jump and start beheading people like you didn’t just squeeze out a 7 pound baby out of your body, so for now you were just sleeping and relaxing while everyone fussed over the first born child. As years will pass she will once again be a part of the next two babies birth, with each new cousin you would stay around the more paternal of the family members which were Ma, Sister, Three-Fingers and the Old Man, it gave Sister enough chance to bond and be closer to them as well with you. She enjoys teaching the children fun girly things like doing their hair, wearing nice clothes, scalping people and how to keep your knife sharp enough to cut through skin like butter

Brother Odet:

Isn’t there for either of the kids birth, mostly cause he has no need being a part of them with how immature and dumb this boy is, you sure as hell didn’t want the perverted bastard watching you pushing out a kid, let alone two more.

He would get to meet each child the day after their births, with the supervision of either Ma or Sister, he gets his chance to hold them and bond with his cousins, sure he doesn’t get the same closeness as his sister gets but it’s enough for him. He isn’t entirely too caring or fussed about them when they’re babies, he mostly goes out to walk around the forest and look for something fun whenever the babies are up and crying all night. Will definitely go and stay at his uncles if he’s losing sleep over their consistent fussing. When the three get older though, he is the most fun cousin who show them all the cool places to explore and climb, definitely a big reason the kids come back home with broken bones and scrapes, luckily for them they’re like their daddies and pain is nothing to them, that doesn’t stop you from smacking Brother across the back of his head for endangering your children.

He does have a favourite, which is your son, mostly cause the two girls picked up the bad habit from his sister and started bullying him both physically and verbally, at least with your boy they can have fun and worry about their sisters picking on them together.

Three-Toes Odet:

Being as he was just born about two years prior to your first born, Three-Toes doesn’t have much of an opinion on his cousins at first due to being a baby as well. He would end up growing alongside his cousins being in the similar age groups, he would definitely stick around your son similar to what Brother does once the two girls get into their bullying mean stage. But he cares for them as much as they care for him, they’re family and he’s grown up around them, hunted with them, learned how to kill and work alongside them.

Growing up with them, Three-Toes would have a more deeper relationship with the three siblings, the amount of sleep overs and family times they have together, their friendship is more closer than what Sister and Brother could ever give them thanks to their similar age area as his two older siblings will be in their twenties and have no interest in such childish games at all times. As they reached their teen to adult stages of life, there is a high chance Three-Toes is gonna get with your eldest, if you wish to prevent more inbreeding it will be up to you to find a way to prevent it as the rest of the family, especially their fathers, do not care and encourage the incest behavior as history has shown they prefer to keep family close and safe.

#one-eye and three-fingers would of course be there for their own kids birth it's saw-tooth you need to pull by the ear to stay for it #Wrong Turn #Wrong Turn 2 #Wrong Turn writing #Wrong Turn writings #added three-toes in cause why not #some nice cousin bondings

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andreafromm · 4 years

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I have started to write a book. I have the first chapter done. I haven't decided on a title yet but the book is being based a the 6 movie series wrong turn.

Chapter 1

Dear Y/n

If you get this it means I'm no longer here. I have something I need to tell you and I hope you can forgive me. Your father isn't dead but he's a cannibal and his family is inbred. I never knew it when I was with him but you have four brothers and one he had them with his first wife but she was also his sister. Her name was Delilah. Your father's name is Maynard odets. He told me that he and his sister were always like that. It started because a chemical got dumped as their water source and it deformed them. Delilah and him knew they wouldn't find love in the outside world but Delilah wanted kids and she didn't care who it was with. Maynard decided he would be with her since she was right and he also wanted kids. That is where the inbred started. Like I said they had four boys and one girl. I feel like you deserve to know their names. I don't know ages so I'm just going to put names and two oldest to youngest. Sawtooth is the oldest, then it is pa, one eye, ma and then three fingers is the youngest. Ma and pa are together. They have a set of twins and just had another baby. The twins names are sister and brother. The newest baby is called three toes. Sawtooth one eye and three fingers are not with anyone and Maynard said they would probably date the same girl.

One more thing I don't want you to go see them but if you do just know.bullets knives and things like that don't affect them. if they want to do anything just know a six of the heart is the only way to kill them

Sincerely mom

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365elephantsoap · 3 years

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SPACE

My friend Sarah and I were having a text conversation recently about tub soaking and I confessed to her that I felt that soaking in a bathtub was torture. I find no pleasure in the act, no peace, no nothing. I know women who love it so much they have their meals in the bathtub or read whole books while their fingers and toes get all pruny. I cannot, but as we chatted about it, I said “maybe I should give it another try.” I bought some bath salts, filled up the tub and set a timer for twenty minutes. I did not hate it. I didn’t love it, but it was not the torturous experience that I remembered it to be. I might even do it again some time. This time last year, you couldn’t have paid me to soak in the tub, but pandemics change you. What I can say about this year is that it has given me some time for mental space. It might have been forced on me and I might not have always been open and accepting of that time. In fact there were moments of actual tantrums over this forced time, but I mastered the art of doing the things I don’t want to do ages ago. This year is easy compared to some others in my timeline. Maybe that’s why soaking in a salt bath wasn’t so bad. I’ve learned there are worse forms of torture.

The culture of “everything’s fine” that is inbred in most of us women is a dead culture. I have spent the year shedding myself of this culture, accepting the moments when everything is most definitely not fine and embracing the moments when everything is fine. At the end of our time together last Monday, I decided to not schedule another appointment with Dr. Mary. I realize this sounds like a bad idea. This is not the best time of year for me with or without a pandemic. My anxiety is pretty high right now with all the things work/life related, but I had already dropped our weekly session down to once a month. So I don’t think it was a big surprise. Also, I am handling myself well enough. I gave Dr. Mary a print from what was supposed to be my first showing and she immediately set it up on her bookshelves. Her reaction to the photo filled me with joy and pride. We ended on a happy note and I have her number. She said that I could always call and schedule an appointment. Our sessions over time became less about fixing me and more about general conversation. I ran out of things to say that was not just blatant whining and complaining.

But I also came to a realization that I don’t need to be fixed.

I have feelings. Sometimes, understandably, those feelings are feelings of deep sadness. I used to be really uncomfortable with allowing myself to feel anything but joy and happiness. There had to be something wrong with me for having those darker feelings. There was something wrong with me for shedding tears in public or even in private. Expressing any feeling other than happiness meant that I was broken and then I would begin an Olympic training regime of some sort in order to fix this brokenness inside of me. Those broken parts do not define me as a whole, but they do make up a part of who I am. We can not truly live through this life without ending up with some broken parts of ourselves. I told Dr. Mary that I am allowing myself to feel the things I am feeling in the moment I am feeling them.

Without guilt.

2020: The year I learned to have feelings and and find an ounce of pleasure in soaking in the bathtub.

#feelings #therapy #salt bath

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zukofenty · 4 years

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just my luck

➜ Summary: The one where Katara whisks away her picture-perfect life the night she kisses a stranger with the worst luck in the world.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!”

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, Journalist!Katara, Girl group manager!Zuko, Music Producer!Zuko

AO3, @zutaraweek

“I am too pretty to be punched!” Katara yelps, ducking and clenching the holding cell’s bars until her knuckles turn white.

“And I thought I was too pretty to commit tax fraud, but here we are.” Ty Lee rolls her eyes. “That’s just how the pussy crumbles.”

“First, you need a gynecologist. Second, I think the saying goes ‘that’s how the cookie—’” Nothing in life could have prepared Katara for the tiny girl to deliver a resounding punch that has her head rattling against the jail cell.

“I lost all my good luck!” Katara screams. “Everything I touch turns to shit!”

“I mean, have you considered fucking a leprechaun?”

Katara sighs, still recovering from the intense nosebleed Ty Lee bestowed on her. “Where the fuck would I even find a leprechaun?” She promptly shoves wads of tissues up her nostrils. Of course, the next one she reaches for actually had a spider in it, and she thinks killing herself just might be easier on her soul at this point.

“Just say you like Megan Thee Stallion and all of a sudden all the men under 5’7” start giving you a 5’11” attitude. Easy peasy.”

She’d managed to limp her way back to Suki and Toph’s apartment from prison, after getting a call that her apartment had flooded, destroying everything in it. Only her apartment. She was barely holding on to her broken YSL pump in one hand and her pride in the other. Emphasis on limp , because while calling taxis to instantly stop for her was always her thing , now she was nothing but an ant (in head-to-toe Prada) on their radar. If they do stop, the taxi either gets snatched up by someone else, or the drivers tell her, not so kindly, to eat a dick.

Nevertheless, she’s still determined to have a positive day, walking and humming a Rihanna song to try and calm her nerves. But, because this day was sent by Satan himself (Jeff Bezos), she was drenched, face to booty to toes, in drain water by the seemingly hundreds of Uber Eats whizzing by, trying to get someone’s Buffalo Wild Wings order to them quickly.

“I can’t believe you guys actually think all that stuff’s real!” Suki scoffs, diligently painting her toenails a pretty pastel purple and not giving any mind to the conversation.

“Tell me, how would you explain this bitch’s life?” Toph points an accusatory finger in Katara’s way. “Katara has been living life as the main character. For fuck’s sake, you won prom queen five years in a row at Ba Sing Se High!”

“A lot of people win prom queen—”

“We went to Omashu High!” Toph adds with frustration. “You even won the year after you graduated!”

Toph and Suki could never quite wrap their heads around Katara’s life.

For as long as they knew her, she was always the luckiest girl in the world.

At seemingly every turn, the girl had all the luck in the world on her side. I mean, just the other day she was accidentally delivered Rihanna’s dry cleaning, because of course she lives in the same fucking building as Rihanna, the goddess herself. See, Katara was the type of person with the luck to manage to find an upscale apartment on their shitty salary in the city for nearly half of what Suki and Toph were paying to sleep next to inbred cockroaches.

“Bitch, you do not have the range for that.” Toph snatches the dress away before Suki or Katara could make a face and whimper a soft ‘gimmie gimmie’ that surprisingly always worked.

“I might not, but at least we could clone Rihanna now.”

Toph pauses. “Say what?”

“I’m getting the girls and gays that album, no matter what.”

Katara went to return the dress after getting in a helicopter with her date of the night, People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, Haru (before the mustache). On top of all that madness, she said Rihanna, in the shimmery, Fenty Beauty Body Lava coated flesh, even complimented her makeup. Suki almost shit herself when Katara was added to the Fenty Savage PR list.

Katara would walk outside and the clouds seemed to part as if on her command. She could wear all-white in the city without a bird unloading one on her shoulder, or one of those guys on the street flicking feces in a pudding cup her way. Jammed streets or congested traffic never ceased her from being ten minutes early to every meeting, event, or even accidental movie set she walked on and got cast as an extra instantly. The lead actor, Academy Award winning Bolin, is still sending her detailed DMs about the various ways he would harvest her toenails because it reminded him of her.

And you know those Airpods or laptop scams that go around on social media you have to train your grandparents not to click on? Or those princes that email you promising to marry you after you send them your banking information? Guess which bitch manages to actually win over a prince’s heart and his inheritance?

Katara had the universe wrapped around her finger, and it didn’t seem to mind bending to her will.

Fresh out of college, after much clawing and fighting and miraculously switching coats with an editor at a restaurant, Katara managed to snag a job at Nyla magazine and secured spots for her best friends, too. They’d been reading the entertainment magazine before they could even process solid food. While they were all saddled with a mailroom job, Katara’s quote unquote irresistible charm had landed her as a scribe to record meetings when their original conveniently broke a nail.

Of fucking course, the day their entire team is stuck in a broken elevator is the day the CEO of White Lotus Records was coming into the office to discuss Nyla ’s next cover star.

Their next big thing, teen singer, Song was still hesitant to work with a magazine aimed at young adults with unhealthy coping mechanisms, compared to the J14s and Tiger Beats with the foldable poster at the back you could steal if you were quick enough at Walgreens.

“ Young lady.” Ugh, why do old men always sound so fucking condescending? You know how easy it is to push an old person? “You know how much dough I make so I can regularly spend it on drugs? Every minute of my time is worth $964.” While Piandao gets up for his assistants to put on his fur coat, Katara slams her hand on the table.

“I promise you this cover story will be worth every minute of your time. I’ll even pay you $965 at the end of my presentation if you hate it.”

And who could say no to that sweet (and scary) face?

When editor-in-chief June waddles back, glazed with sweat after someone farted their entire Del Taco Thursday three chicken soft tacos for $2.49 deal in her face , their cover story was booked. The carnival themed, masquerade party to celebrate Song’s new cover was already scheduled in Google Calendar. Soon enough, Katara was handed her own office, Tesla, and platinum corporate card to start planning the entire event.

Everything was going fine . There were acrobats doing flying yoga in the sky, a fortune teller she hired at the last minute that everyone loved. Music was playing, people were dancing without a care in the world, and everyone was having a good fucking time. She even snagged her bitchy boss a date with her hot neighbor, and her Painted Lady costume was designed by Vera Wang herself. By the end of the night, her brain was scrambled from the paperwork and yelling and pen marks all on her hand. Yet, with her luck, she still managed to kiss the cute guy who asked her to dance.

Well, at least she knew he felt and smelled like a cute guy, considering half his face was covered by a mask.

He was a bumbling thing, managing to stomp on her feet a few times even when she reassures him at the end of the day. Despite being all broad shoulders and muscles, he seemed to shrink in on himself at that moment. “I’m really, really bad at dancing.” She gave him a weird look and Zuko had to remember that he had stolen a backup dancer named Lee’s gig for the night to sneak into the event.

Katara rolls her eyes. Dancing, much like nearly everything else, always came easy to her. “So what if you gave a girl a black eye and another guy a concussion?” Her laugh is so pretty and her waist between his warm fingers just felt right.

He lets himself laugh, too. Wrapped up in the girl’s spell. Forgetting any thought of trying to win over the White Lotus CEO.

She leaned in first, and he was more than happy to reciprocate. Zuko didn’t have time for impulsive decisions, not when the universe was actively always trying to kill him. For some reason, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Her soft lips against his felt like a plush dream, and all he didn’t want to wake up to reality. Not when in that moment, there were sparks and blood rushing to his head and soft skin peeking out of her expensive dress he wanted to discover more of.

One minute, Katara was throwing back a margarita in case she had dumb bitch breath that caused her mystery man ran off. The next, she was choking to death, only spitting out the olive on Suki’s face after Toph delivers a quick punch to her sternum, right between the titties.

“Eenie meenie miney mo, catch a stupid whore by her throat!”

“Stop choking me, June!”

“No!” June screeches. How was Katara supposed to know she accidentally set her boss up with the ‘ King Kuei ’? The FBI’s most wanted illegal animal trader by day, male prostitute by night? And who knew that would land her a night in jail?

“The universe is a stupid fucking whore!” Katara sniffs, still trying to detangle the chunk of hair embedded deep into Suki’s blow dryer. Katara managed to not only break a mirror with the blow dryer in her mere ten minutes in Suki and Toph’s place, but also rip out a section of her hair after throwing said blow dryer in their bathtub which promptly caught on fire. The icing on the dog shit cake of the day was when she managed to cause the building’s power to short circuit, shutting off everyone’s lights.

The universe, for the first time in his life, was finally on Zuko’s side.

For as long as Zuko could remember, rain clouds suddenly appeared when he walked outside, even despite what Alexa told him earlier that morning.

“Alexa, what’s the weather like today?”

“Completely sunny with a chance of naive bitch,” the smart speaker might as well have said.

Zuko was sure of four things in life.

Adderall and 7 up were never a good combination

Alexa was always watching for an opportunity to strike fear in his heart

He could never catch a fucking break

Having a waterpark poncho always on hand never hurt

He heard from his Uncle Iroh his family was perpetually cursed. Something about a fame-hungry witch with the last name Kardashian in the past life, and one of his relatives eating said witch’s ass that inflicted the present day curse on his family.

Everyone he knew was impossibly clumsy. Random flooding accidents, cars always running into you, bugs trying to get their fuck on in your ear. It was like the universe said yeet! On their good fortune.

What does he wish for every year on his birthday? For it to be easy just to be him . To be easily liked, like Adele, or Dippin Dots. He wished life could be easy enough for him to take a shit without the toilet bowl accidentally caving in, or a lightbulb somehow always falling on his good eye.

Zuko had always been relatively clumsy, worse than what Iroh’s seen before. After so many years of being shit-out-of-luck, and having literal shit on you at all times, he was used to being alone.

It stopped stinging a few years ago. Besides, he had his half-sister Kiyi to keep him company these days.

Nobody wanted to be around the guy who constantly smells like dog shit because he always manages to find a shit covered dollar bill flowing down the street. No one wanted to be associated with the guy who, without fail, splits his pants open every time he bends down. Saddling him with yet another public indecency charge.

Like clockwork, at least two times a week, he was getting his face shoved into the concrete and handcuffs slapped on him. He started investing in a mouth guard about five years ago.

It was like a safety hazard, just being him. There were so many times you could get struck by lightning before you were banned by the nation from buying umbrellas.

Predictably, he has been rejected from every job he applied to. His laptop has been hacked by so many Hentai porn bots he doesn’t even bother upgrading his Dell from 2013. He even started a conversation with the guy monitoring his keystrokes. Landlords chucked his application out the window before he could even give them his soul and a deposit, and while the doctors didn’t think he’d do it, he found out that yes you can survive being hit after someone throws a piano out their window while you leave the leasing office.

Sure, he came to the city with dreams of making it big, loving music since his mom taught him the difference between a treble and bass clef. But when he’s always accidentally setting his tsungi horn on fire? Breaking his nose open trying to put resin on his violin’s bow? Somehow getting a reed stuck in his throat and his sphincter (on the same day)? No chance in hell was anyone willing to risk their lives to let him play anything on stage.

So he stuck to writing and producing, watching YouTube tutorial after tutorial to learn mixing, because he thinks it’s safer for everyone involved.

“Zuko, someone tried shoving Nutella up their ass and shat it back over the bathroom.” He looks up from his laptop to see a plunger too close for comfort near his face.

“Why?”

“Some weird sex thing! I don’t fucking know.” Jet points to the elderly couple nearby. “You ask them why!”

Zuko takes a deep breath in. “No, I’m asking ‘why?’ because my shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

He was a janitor at the bowling alley across the street (it was the only place that would hire him, but he thinks they felt bad for him after he ugly cried and ate out their supply of shitty, frozen curly fries).

“You know I love you, Zuko! But these!” Jet cups Zuko’s chest with two, oddly gentle, hands. “Make our alley’s world go round.” He even gives them a squeeze for emphasis.

“Let go of my man titties,” Zuko glares at Jet. “ Now .”

“You’re the breast.”

Zuko’s eye twitches.

It wasn’t all bad. After all, the alley does let him make music in his free time, and the girl group he was “managing” can perform their sets on Fridays.

“We’re firing you!” Mai pokes at his chest and has him readjusting his glasses from the force.

It was a Monday and his week was starting off better than most. He was scraping green colored poop from the walls and was already being threatened at 9 a.m. without any weapons in sight.

“You don’t pay me!” He points out, which only seems to get everyone in the room angrier. His sister and her friends formed Shooters 4 Rihanna when they were pre-teens. They wanted to be a group trying to make it big in the pop scene, and quickly signed to a record label together. The girls were promised all their years of childhood training would pay off when they would debut as young adults. That was, until their CEO was broadcast on TLC’s My Strange Addiction for his habit of collecting Mark Ruffalo’s nose hairs, and confessed to killing someone for it.

Investors weren’t too happy.

While all the girls could see was repressed childhood trauma, Zuko saw that and potential star power.

Every single member already had years of dancing and singing lessons under their belt. They could play their own instruments, write their own songs, and had the stage presence. A few Twitter DMs later (from his multiple accounts, because they thought his profile picture made him look like a fucking creep and blocked him years ago) they were dumb enough to trust him with their future. He’d been trying to get them signed for months to no avail. Somehow fucking up, or electrocuting himself in the process of showing an executive their new single.

“This was a mistake!” Jin shoveled the curly fries in her face.

While Yue was always one to stay positive, her sad ‘ I miss pickled fish ,’ had the rest of the girls wanting to leave, too. Going back home, just give up seemed sensible. Why waste your prime years on a pipe dream?

He stopped them, plunger in hand. Against all logic, and partially because they could smell the desperation, the girls gave him one week .

One masquerade party later, he managed to throw Piandao out of harm’s way, taking the brunt of the taxi running into him.

“ Are you fucking stupid !” The CEO screams. The boy had blood flowing from his scalp, but looked as alive as ever handing over Shooters 4 Rihanna’s demo CD.

“A little.” Zuko admits. He could feel his bones still intact, and judging by the blood it wasn’t anything serious. Piandao gives him a call the next day after listening to the tape.

By some miracle, or Kardashian curse lifting, the girl group and him were shuffled into the city’s upscale penthouses, and their debut single was slated to be released on the radio the next day.

While he headed for lunch at a nearby cafe (one he couldn’t afford to eat at just last week) he can’t help but notice her .

“Ma’am, I have already told you our restaurant’s motto! No eat, no shit!” The waiter glares down at her. “Either pay up or get out, broke bitch.”

Katara was caked head to toe in mud, tissues shoved yet again up her nose. Haru had invited her out to his dad’s art show the night before. After insulting the literal piece of shit art, she tripped over the clump of clay on display and landed face-first in his million dollar creation.

Of course, it would land her in prison, and of course Ty Lee would be there, too. “Move bitch, I’m gay! ” When Katara was too exhausted to budge, the girl, yet again, socked the shit out of her.

Katara just wanted a plate of steaming breakfast foods, but of course all her cards declined. And of course, she has a meltdown because she was fucking tired, hungry, and was about to throw hands.

She grabbed the salt shaker. “Look, I’m just going to try one thing before I go!”

“It’s the bath salts,” she hears one woman whisper. “Those fashion bitches are always on bath salts.”

“Just smile politely. We’re witnessing mental illness.”

She didn’t expect that throwing salt over her shoulder would land in the waiter’s eye, or cause him to collapse on the table of Mormons nearby. Or something to catch on fire, or someone to get stabbed with a fork with a pancake on it.

She certainly didn’t expect a (cute) stranger to be so gentle with her, helping her escape the madness and handing over his turkey on rye. Or him following her as she tried to save face and sit on a random bench away from any nearby birds’ tiny assholes.

“You look sad.” He’s not mocking in the slightest.

“What does that even mean?” She went from sad to affronted in just a second.

“What’s wrong?” Fuck this guy and those eyes that were so damn enchanting .

“I don’t look sad.” She says with the roll of her eyes. “I am fucking sad.” She was blackballed from every newspaper in the Four Nations, the prince she was talking to did indeed end up stealing her savings, and on top of all of that, her undereye concealer was creasing.

“You!” Katara points her finger in the fortuneteller’s face.

“Me?” Aunt Wu looks beyond irritated. “Look, I can’t predict when you’ll get a fat ass, just buy a resistance band and leave me—”

“You’re the one who told me whatever Wheel of Fortune would spin back on me! And Alex Tribek would take away my good luck or something!” Katara was crazed and running on two hours of sleep, but she had a bone to pick. “My perfect life is gone.”

“Wow, that was a lot to unpack.” Aunt Wu locks her shop’s door. “Look, can you think of anything strange that happened that night?”

“Besides someone telling me to make them toilet wine in prison, no I don’t think so!” Katara grunts out petulantly.

Aunt Wu smacks her with a stack of tarot cards. “No! Jesus! What else happened?”

“Can’t you just tell me? Childhood trauma has really fucked with my memory.”

“You kissed someone, didn’t you?” The fortuneteller scurries to her Kia Soul before Katara could retaliate. “Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!”

She tried kissing every single dancer that was working that stupid party, and came up with nothing but mono and the feeling of defeat.

“Did you know, I even fucking sharted myself today!” She smacks her forehead repeatedly. “At twenty-fucking-three! How fucking embarrassing . All I could do is run to the H&M with my cheeks out to buy a pair of sweatpants.”

“I know a job looking for someone,” he says and even when he’s staring at her with nothing but understanding, she’s still apprehensive.

“Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus you’re a colonizer.” If she had any energy she would’ve put more force into the shove. “Why are you even helping me?”

She looked like shit on a dick and he was just smiling at her. “Let’s say, I just know what it’s like to be SOL.”

“What’s the catch?” She stares at him down and pouts. He’s wearing an Armani shirt with an Off-White belt, which was already offending her senses, but on top of that he dared pair the atrocity with a pair of knock-off Converse. He couldn’t have sprung for a real pair, he just had to get the off-brand from Costco that made everyone’s ankles look like cankles.

New money . “I am not letting anyone suck my toes for money, again. Try a different girl.”

Zuko grows positively red, but at least it brings the ghost of a smile to her face. “No toe sucking. Only on Wednesdays.”

She delivers a well-aimed kick to his crotch. While she’d expect him heaving and puffing, he’s unphased. He’d put on his MMA fighter grade, groin protector out of habit, even though he’s getting kicked a lot less in the ball bags lately.

“So, you’re trying to convert me to Scientology?” Katara scoffs. “I’ll pass, Asian Tom Cruise.”

“Not that either.” He sees the defeated look in her eyes, the same one he’s seen in himself. There’s a spark there, though. A willingness to just keep going. Something he lost years ago. “Trust me.”

“No.”

“All good.” He shrugs. “Can I at least help you up?” Before she could bite back, she turned to the spot on the bench where he was pointing.

Wet paint.

He’s taking her mustard covered hands (the sandwich exploded in the foil) in his soft ones without question, and peeling her off the bench.

“Of fucking course,” she huffs.

She thinks he knows. He knows the fact that she wants him sticking around. Even with her adamant protests against it, he’s persistent.

Stopping by after long days at the studio to her shit job, handful of first aid supplies at the ready.

He’s just always there .

He’s there when she’s scraping gum from under the alley’s tables and almost swallows one that had “Live, Laugh, Love” carved into it. He quickly stops her from choking, practically an expert at the heimlich with how many times he’s almost died from drinking boba.

There when she electrocutes herself changing the alley’s light bulbs to catch her as she falls straight off the ladder. He’s not even phased, pushing a fried piece of hair sticking up the heavens and staring at her as though she squirted cupcake frosting from her nipples.

He’s there with his first-aid messenger bag, all duct taped and falling apart and it makes her want to say sorry to Alexander Wang for daring to wear it with his Spring 2019 boots after Zuko forces her to carry it around. But then he’s pulling out a tube of toothpaste from the bag while she’s cooling her burnt fingertips on a 10 year old Yerba Mate can, and she’s reminded why he’s so firm about it.

“Earth Nation trick to heal burnt skin.” He’s too concentrated on rubbing the paste into her flaming skin to notice her staring. She remembers that he included her favorite Fenty gloss in the bag after handing it off to her, and blushes.

“I don’t need your help, you know.” Katara was always the one fighting for her own dreams. She didn’t want to stick back living the life other people imagined for her. Even all the luck in the world couldn’t help her escape a sleepy town or an unsupportive family.

When they came to the city, she knew her friends let her take care of them on purpose. It was second nature, what she grew up on. She’d always been the one looking out for everyone, even if they didn’t ask, and they let her do it because they all needed a coping mechanism. Toph’s is cake cutting videos, Suki’s is practicing her crying face because she always wanted to be a pretty crier, and Katara’s is being overbearing.

She was confused. As many times as she tried drilling through his thick head that her grandma was a nurse, that she could easily wrap up every cut, bruise, and swollen toe, he never budged. For the first time in a while, someone was there, stubbornly making sure she was okay.

“I know?” He says it as though it was obvious. “I’ll make you a deal, though. Just let me help you out, just this one time?” He gently taps her fingers wrapped in Minion bandaids he got her just because he knew she hated them in public, loved them in private. “I won’t do it again.”

He’s teasing and it’s obvious he knows she’s putty in his hands. Though, his newfound look (she helped with) balancing boy-next-door with heartthrob is not working on her heart. Her pussy, sure. Not her heart, though. She swears.

“That’s what you said last time,” Katara protests, without any energy behind it.

He sends her a lopsided smile. “I know.”

Zuko wasn’t about to let any hair on her pretty head get hurt.

While Kiyi already had enough of a bad case of bad luck, considering all the Power Ranger figurines she had super glued to her face by fourth grade boys, Katara’s was just something else.

It reminded him of him . Whatever stroke of good luck he had, he knew the universe takes in ten-fold what it might give. So he’s taking advantage of every bit of luck he has for a girl without any.

While he’s been stabbed many a time walking back home at night, somehow he’s in the clear when he escorts Katara back to her apartment. Or the times he buys her Water Tribe take out because she’s still figuring out how that prince managed to spend $10,000 on Swampbender diet pills. Or when he sneaks in before her shift to do some of her tasks for the day (he still has the keys), so he doesn’t have to worry about her bruising her pubic bone with the vacuum, or breaking the ceiling with a slippery bowling ball.

He wasn’t all used to his new life. The designer shoes, the fancy parties, the attention . Girls in the past would look at him as though he wasn’t more than shit at the bottom of their Jimmy Choo, but his good luck brought this newfound female attention that was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Especially when, all he wanted was to catch her eye.

She was his good luck charm and didn’t even know it.

Since he’s met her, everything just was going right . She brought Toph over with her guitar to string together a few verses the day they were in desperate need of new lyrics to go with the beat he’s spent the last few nights cranking out. The day after they released it on Apple Music, the song went #1 on Billboard. Piandao had even booked them to play the Hard Boulder Cafe for their first performance, and tickets were sold out.

Even when things just seemed to get better and better for him, the universe doubled down in its punishment for her.

He’s there when she’s walking back from work, drenched to the bone because she missed all trains for the day, a taxi said her face looked stupid, and she was just tired of it all and wanted to go home and eat processed frozen food and die.

Zuko’s there, though. Without fail.

He’s there with his fucking Tesla and personal driver and Chanel top and she couldn’t be any more embarassed.

“Get in!” He hesitates before approaching. “Also, maybe let’s put down the umbrella?” It was inverted anyways, and looked three seconds from whisking her away into the storm.

“No, I’m good!” Katara insists. She was afraid that falling for Zuko, going to bed and waking up thinking of him was messing with her brain and she didn’t know if she wanted it to stop.

“You could get hit by lightning.”

“That can’t—” She ponders it for a second. “You know what, fuck you.”

He throws his expensive jacket over her to quell the shivers, and when she protests, seeing as it was a Valentino Lacquered Nylon Jacket, he bundles her even deeper in the thing, buttoning it up until she’s complaining from the warmth.

“You’re laughing at me.” She pouts.

He’s covered completely in bubbles. Not her fault he decided to strip off his shirt to throw in the cycle with her wet clothes, and she got distracted by the abs and dumped the whole bottle of laundry detergent in the washing machine.

Zuko shoves her face into a pile of the suds. “I am, yeah.” She looks upset and he stops the mirth growing on his face. Reaching out to her, instead. “Katara, I’m sorry did I—”

She might’ve leaned out to accept his embrace, but then she’s flipping them over, pinning him down to the floor. Her warm, still soaking wet body, pressed against him and her arms coming out to pin his hands to the ground.

He gulps.

“This would be more fun if you let me peg you afterwards.”

Her laugh vibrates her whole body and he couldn’t help joining in, too.

He let her have her pick of his dress shirts, and she looked so much at home. Little strands of her bangs framing her face and growing curly with the addition of water. Her brow furrows when she mentions her leave-in conditioner washing away with the suds, and he takes advantage of the momentary distraction. Flipping her and placing two hands at the sides of her head.

She knows he’s covered in the bubbles, just so she wouldn’t feel anymore of a stupid bitch than she already does. He never seems to mind it, even when Katara was frustrated and just couldn’t figure out why all this was happening to her and dragging him into every single accident.

“What would you say to the universe, right now?” She’s curled up on his couch and he’s massaging the balls of her feet she presses in his lap.

“Welcome to your tape.”

“Katara, no.”

“That bridge off of Fourth Street? Looking really easy to jump off of right about now, universe.”

He lets her take his bed that night after he cooked up his famous komodo chicken and both Kiyi and her complain about having a food-baby.

“Hey, Katara.” He whispers while her eyes could barely open. He tucked her in those blankets all ethnic people have, the super fluffy ones with a tiger on them that are always wrapped in a plastic bag. “You’re cute.”

“Yeah?” She breathes out, crinkling her nose and blinking those long lashes and making his heart skip beats. “Hey, Zuko.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I like you.”

He pinches her cheek. “I think I like you, too.”

He was right. As soon as life blessed him with everything he’s wanted and more, it whisked it away just as fast.

He’d mustered up the courage to invite her to a studio session after everyone in Shooters 4 Rihanna insisted on meeting her. Their songs were getting a little too emotional and they wanted to meet his muse. It was going well, too well. He even catches all the lamps she knocks down. When she rights herself, she manages to knock down the table with their food. Double bagging existed for a reason, just like he warned her! But, of course, the bags holding the takeout she was supposed to surprise him with broke from the bottom. He’d go hungry, that day. But, anything for her, though.

She looked so into the session, asking him if she could play with the buttons, leaning into his chest when he hesitantly surrounds her space. His two lean arms coming out to steady her waist when she trips on herself and sends him a sheepish smile that has him hypnotized.

Katara normally felt lightheaded around him, but she felt absolutely faint as soon as Piandao walked in to finalize the details of the performance, and Zuko started talking about some lucky masquerade ball.

She couldn’t hear much else, body getting up before she even registered it.

Before he could fully get into his chair at the mixing console because just one little note in their new song “Rihanna Impregnate Me” just sounded off, she’s tugging him up.

“Can I kiss you?”

“W—what?” She’s holding him up by the collar of his shirt.

Katara smirks. “I really want to kiss you.”

“I mean, uh, yes! Definitely a ye—”

It’s everything he’s imagined, hoped, prayed for the last few months and more. She’s sweet and soft and tasted like lip gloss and the toothpaste he had stowed away in her bag. When he’s leaning in for more, ready to do things like give her his heart or do her taxes for her because he couldn’t think straight and his heart was guiding him through the motions, she’s gone.

Katara’s gone when Ty Lee somehow gets into, yet another, tax fraud case and can’t make their performance.

She’s gone when he needs her by his side because even though he’s not performing he still manages to feel fucking sick. He wants her holding his unnaturally sweaty palms and telling him it’s going to be okay, just like what she does during his late night writing sessions where she stays up and refuses to sleep until he does.

She’s gone when the band has to answer to an angry crowd, an angry CEO who already sees the articles lambasting the girl group’s unprofessionalism and was ten seconds away from pulling the plug on his dreams.

“Zuko!”

He hates his heart rushes, even when it was about to break because of her, too.

She's gotten her perfect life. She’d gotten the job back, her apartment back, Rihanna even sent her a secret song for fuck’s sake.

She must really love this fucker, because she was giving up a chance to stalk Rihanna so he could be happy.

“Maybe he needed that luck more than you do!” Was running through her head the entire week she avoided him.

“I don’t know what to do, Suki!”

“Why don’t you both fuck leprechauns?” She says between bites of string cheese.

Katara sighs. “Why are yours and Toph’s minds built like that?”

“I heard my mom tried punching her stomach every day, hoping that I wasn’t going to be a result of St. Patrick’s Day sex. That’s why my head’s lopsided.”

He felt nauseous. Not only did 3 of the girls just spew their lunch into whatever container they could get their hands on, of course Azula has gone missing. “Katara not now I—”

She comes to him flushed, extensions stuck to her hand after running too fast and accidentally grabbing someone’s hair. Her feet hurt, her heart hurt, but in this moment she knew. She knew he needed this more than her. He was soft and kind and took people in and cherished the moments with his half-sister because he missed all the ones with Azula. He worked so hard now because he was afraid she hated him, and even when he was on the verge of giving up, he still pushed through. He gave people chances, even when the universe was never as kind to him.

After she presses her lips to his, suddenly Azula presses a button from the underground room she was trapped in, appearing on stage in front of their very eyes. They have the best show the Hard Boulder Cafe’s seen in decades . Their contract is extended, and he opens a bottle of champagne to celebrate without taking his eye out.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

Though, when he turns, he realizes.

His girl’s missing.

“Katara!” She tried shuffling away, but accidentally slips on a few drug needles someone threw carelessly on the ground.

She’s still nursing the sore spot on her forehead, where the champagne cork hit. “Zuko, please just...go.” She waves him off with a bandaged hand.

“I know you’re going to be stuck here for the next three hours. Because trains never come on time for you no matter what.”

Even in the middle of the nearly dead station, he was right. Every stop flashed to delayed .

“Then you’ll be robbed by someone on the train, and then you might even get spit on by the guy with the imaginary dog who’s afraid of whoever gets too close to it, and then you’ll get an eye infection.”

Katara wipes the snot at her nose. “So?”

“So?” He laughs, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I’ve lived a whole lifetime of bad luck, and I can’t let you do that for me.”

She lets him turn her to face him, lets him gather her up in his arms and hold her like she’s delicate and irreplaceable, and not just a girl with mascara running down her face and her heart stolen by someone she couldn’t love.

“Even in a lifetime of being shit out of luck, I still got the chance to meet you.”

“Zuko, stop.” Katara wipes at her tears. “Our luck will just get switched, and I always figure things out, I always do. But, I just want you to keep this. You put it to better use than I would’ve.”

Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“I said that to my bladder infection, and that didn’t work. What makes you think that will work now?”

“I can live without it.” He smiles. “A few bumps and bruises are the price I’m willing to pay for you in my life.”

She’s blushing, hands coming up to bring his head closer to hers, to see every little detail of him.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” She whispers, millimeters away from his lips.

The grin splits on his face without his permission. “I am, yeah.”

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #Zutara Week 2020 #Celestial #Day 4 #atla #avatar the last airbender #Zutara Week #Zutara fanfiction

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kissed-by-a-shadow-blog1 · 5 years

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As per usual, I'm listing out the things that hurt exceptionally from that scene:

• Alec forcing himself to tell Magnus that the spark he fell in love with was gone, when he was the one who convinced Magnus that it was still there in the first place.

• Alec truly believing that Magnus will recover from the pain of losing him. He doesn't understand just how important he is to Magnus, at least not to the extent of surpassing his past lovers.

• Magnus latching onto Alec and desperately pleading him to stay. It says a lot about how he's been treated by past lovers. [As said by a twitter user:] Remember Camille? Imagine the amount of times she must have pretended to leave Magnus just to get him to show affection. What Magnus did when Alec tried to leave was an automatic response, one inbred in him.

• Magnus's shaking fingers as he withdrew them from Alec's face when he realized Alec wasn't going to stay.

• Alec giving in to the kiss, because he knew this was the last time he was going to be able to do it, but still forcing himself not to get too into it because he had to leave.

• Magnus believing that, when Alec said he wanted a break, it was to go on a vacation.

• The look of betrayal on Magnus's face when Alec said "I can't" and walked away.

• And the way he sagged completely afterwards.

• Magnus telling Alec he'd already lost everything, and that he couldn't lose him too.

• That kiss. Enough has been said.

• Shadowhunters only love once. Alec willingly gave up Magnus so Magnus could be happy, and get his magic and his immortality back. The depth of his sacrifice is incredible, one that can only be compared to Magnus giving his magic up in the first place.

• Alec thinking that he isn't going to be enough to keep Magnus happy. I understand that this isn't necessarily true, and that Alec isn't equal to Magnus's magic, not really. I also understand that this wasn't the cause of the break up. But the emotion was there, nevertheless.

• Magnus having to stand on his toes to kiss Alec, because Alec didn't bend down this time, not like he always does.

[Not a part of the scene, but these moments still hurt]

• The foreshadowing. Magnus telling Maryse about how he doesn't want to burden Alec, and how he didn't know what he'd do without her son.

• Maryse assuring Magnus he was a part of the family now. Obviously, that would've held true otherwise, but here, Maryse was saying it because she'd assumed Magnus was marrying Alec.

• Alec saying "we love each other" and making it clear that he would never abandon Magnus, but doing it a minute later to keep Magnus happy.

With all of that being said, I shall now return to my coffin, which has become my permanent residence since the episode released. Malec nation, we alive?

#malec #alec lightwood #alexander gideon lightwood #magnus bane #alec x magnus #magnus x alec #malec fandom #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fandom #shadowhunterstv #angst #pain #emotional #trauma #hurt #matthew daddario #harry shum jr #acting

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hoodie-bboi · 5 years

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in honor of school starting, here are some things i either heard or said last year as a high school freshman. enjoy.

(List compiled by @teawarlord and i)

Freshman Year (2018-2019)

I’m just gonna stick my hands down my shirt.

Kai you’ve got a big dick. (Kai does not have a dick.)

I’m crying from the dick.

Stop fingering everything

Don’t judge the lizard man!

YOURE A PEEN BOY!

Can I borrow your uterus?

Don’t fist the applesauce

No I’m not gonna fist it I’m just gonna punch it

I didn’t choose the gay life the gay life chose me

Is your crotch ok?

My brain is soup

If they have a c*ck like a toddlers forearm…

I’m pregnant with water

I’m not having kids and you can’t make me!

There’s cum on my apple

i’m tearing off the cum

Oh shit the apple cummed on me

Who wants to talk about animal sex?

Daddyyyyy UWU

*to the tune of duck tails* TOE HANDS UWU

eggs. eggs everywhere.

If I see her walk through the door I’m jumping down. (30 ft drop)

When I see (my gf) I’m slapping her ass because I’m mad at her.

Fuck you time, you’re just a concept.

I love communism~

Panda bears are resoundingly NOT in to sex! -Science teacher

If they were any more inbred, they’d be a sandwich.

I don’t want to be shanked by your pop tart!

What if everyone had dicks for fingers?

*walking in to a room* I’m not gay, but 20 bucks is 20 bucks.

Don’t ask questions you don’t know the answer to.

Do we do it in Español or Spanish?

“I wanna go to Maryland” “Why?” “Because fuck Maryland” “But why?” “It’s the land of merry” (or Mary, jesus’ mom, idk)

I don’t wanna eat my limp dick pop-tart :(

Don’t screw ghosts, that’s a sin ;)

Our phrase of the day is Multigenerational Butt Licking

“I didn’t eat today” “That’s bad…” “I know-“ “C O N S U M E”

“I don’t worship Satan because I am Satan” *whips poorly*

I finally found out what my cat has been staring at all these years…

No matter how sexy your music is, you can never lick it.

And not the egg??

You don’t stand when you suck dick, dumbass

I love squating when sucking dick. Just *squats* euaaah

Why are you fucking the sherbet with your spoon?

i stuck my finger in there and he starts doing that

I’d rather you stick your human-sized foot up my veen than my ass.

Soft vore your sandwich.

Can forks… mate?

*bursts into room* WHERES THE MEATLOAF??? *takes two pieces of wooden pretend-meatloaf and runs out*

Grunhilda’s in my pants :(

Where is my penis!?

*into headset* I’m gonna kill Gerald. He’s eating our beans. *Gerald runs out laughing like a little girl*

First he eats my beans, then he throws my table.

Oof. I got a big whiff of beans.

Take off those clout goggle bro, you got no clout.

Bruh :(

What do we call an animal that is active mostly act night?

Insecure (the correct answer is nocturnal)

A ball of fire flew out of her vagina

I got the beats, ya bitch

That damn bastard, peein on my carpet

Do you ever forget to breathe because you’re so tired? (Immediately) Yes.

(About Burt’s Bees) Who the fuck is Burt?

“12-8 is 4” (In a condescending tone) “12-8 is 5.”

Some people think ivory powder is viagra

Do you have any on you? I’m asking for a friend…

What’s a hussy?

Teacher: It’s a… very flirtatious female.

oH, so a hoe!

Teacher: I MEAN YOU’RE NOT WRONG

i don’t dislike students. but i dislike this student very much.…

“Are you depressed?” “Hella”

*carrying a shovel* Do you know of any graveyards nearby?

Bro what’s wrong with AIDS?

What if I slap my vagina?

I’m not gonna slap your vagina.

I am so close to becoming bisexual right now

I GOT CHEESE JUICE ON MY FINGERS

“I DONT LIKE THAT SOUND” “Let me suck the cheese juice off of it”

Did you steal my eyes?

PLEASE DONT STEAL MY KNEECAPS

Do humans eat sharks?

caMELS? Do camels eat sharks?

I’M GONNA DEEPTHROAT THIS KNIFE

Have you guys ever felt how soft Kaia is?!

Bro I gotta find out if he’s gay or bi, because if he’s bi then I have a chance.

(from above the stairs) aw man don’t be slappin me like that

(from below the stairs) I’LL SLAP WHATEVER I WANT TO

(above) yo who the fuck said that

I don’t like turkey

i’ll eat it

It’s not turkey, it’s salami

!!???

you schlorped my cheese

twincest is NOT wincest apparently

STOP DRINKING YOUR RANCH WHAT THE FUCK

JACK FROST NIPPING AT YOUR NOSE? MORE LIKE HE’S SLITTING MY THROAT IN THIS COLD

(about kidney stones) Are those generic by the way? (instead of genetic)

Why are you eating your book?

LEAVE ME ALONE

So not to get political or anything but what the hell is oatmeal?

I love when I call daddy!

“I don’t want glass up my cooter!” “No, coffee.” “THATS EVEN WORSE”

I want to slap someone with my ovaries

Did you eat your last brain cell?

Don’t hurt my neck hole

I don’t care about your egg

Peanut fucker

The Ugly Fuckling

While you’re in this group, don’t get on the roof.

There’s a roof?

During this time, we stay under the building (referring to under the roof).

I will throw my skull at you

Don’t put your eggs in my stomach

the egg juiced

I don’t care what you do, just be quiet… don’t raise hell…

Don’t put your egg in my stomach

IT JUICED (about the egg)

YOU ATE YOUR APPLE SO PRETTY

I’m ten? (through laughter) I’m not legally allowed in my house

We are Dong

All is Dong, Dong is all

dong with a capital D

This monster Dong is a Dong and a half

They’re an abomination of the foot, Debra

I’ve fallen and I can’t giddy up

Why are you eating in the dark on my bed?

I’m sure anyone can fuck a belly button if they have a fetish and a small enough dick

stop molesting her ear

so her tummy was open?

yeah, it was

so now she doesn’t have any bones?

w h a t ?

you need to learn to keep your blood

blood is for drinking, not living

i am bsexudkal

i have no king, im an anarchist

The Council Knows, Kaia. You Will Be Tried For Your Sins.

wake up

I made someone scream with my stick

HOLA I JUST CAME BACK FROM HAWAII

We’re gonna be talking about diseases

Fantastic! i LOVE talking about myself!

i thought i could turn the tables…. but the tables turned me!

on?

i’m turned on by tables

bullets are just gun jizz

GUINNEA BUISSEAU IS JUST GUN JIZZ

i have the bladder of a god

i’m sick, as compensation buy me new shoelaces

if you have a canker sore does that mean you have herpes?

duncan blew a thing

can you get better tea?

(offended) better tEETH?

i get my gender validation from a pokemon game

i bet you my room smells like egg… ass

finals week (and the week before)

please don’t talk about furries -my science teacher

the smiley face is frowning upon us

if you want to tp a tree, you tp it so well the best way to clean it up is to cut it down -also my science teacher

i think i have kidney stones up my nose

when someone tells you to hold your horses they’re telling you to be stable (in the middle of the final)

airport quotes (2018)

it’s like a velociraptor with a gun that shoots… sadness

my vibrator fell out of my bag

here's to a new year of learning and/or doing jack shit. sophomore edition coming next year. :)

#high school #school #gen z #gen z culture #long post

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mzyrimworld · 5 years

Text

Duster Part 19: Quadrum 20

Last time original colonist Henry was laid to rest, and the base was invaded by insects that did more damage to the poor huskies than most of the colonists themselves...

Let it never be said that our colonists do not learn their lessons: since the time they ran extremely low on food a few seasons ago, they are now incredibly well supplied. Starvation should not be a problem any time soon.

The away team arrives at their destination without trouble and makes their trade. A shame that (as I recall) nobody actually requires this jaw as yet, though I know there’s at least one colonist who’d volunteer anyway...

And the away-team returns safely too, through the fields and haystacks of the muffalo, alpacas and cows.

The jaw’s not in use yet, but there’s sufficient medication for Julio to make attempts to fix certain colonists’ anxiety problems...

Morales has had his morale restored! Only one finger away from no problems at all!

With Morales fixed, it’s Sky’s turn!

Another flawless treatment from Julio. At least until the next time they change bases and everyone develops anxiety again.

But some people don’t need much of an excuse to have what most people would consider to be breakdowns.

It’s one thing to set fire to grass, another to attack a poor muffalo! Some of these colonists ought to remember that very few of them are irreplaceable if they’re going to misbehave...

Oh no. We recognise this from very recently...

Only this time it’s the hospital chock-full of bugs, which will make any injuries hard to treat properly.

The bugs were dispatched, but at a cost of Skissor’s left ear and two toes...

And a toe from Blackrose too.

There weren’t enough beds in the hospital, so the resourceful huskies get involved with dragging the others to their own beds.

Those that aren’t injured themselves, anyway: Kilo got badly battered by bugs again, so we’ll have to see whether she can retain the pregnancy this time given her injuries.

Vas doesn’t have any permanent losses from the fight, but extreme pain and significant blood loss.

All of the injured are fortunate that there’s such a large supply of medicine and talented medics: Skissor has an infection in his chest, but it shouldn’t be any issue for Julio to deal with.

Another storage area has been built to hold all the excess food, and colonists continue to bond with the increasing number of huskies, as Steroid develops a bond with Raider.

An extremely tempting mission! Resurrector mech serum would have been one of the few things that might have saved Henry and might one day be required should anything happen to Zeiph! That would be hard to pass up!

And a second mission in a short period. It’s a valuable item, but if the colonists can get to the ship provided, they may not require it...

An away-team is formed to find and recover the resurrector mech serum, including many of those who were injured and have recovered in the meantime.

Not a short journey, but the away-team has known longer.

Back home there’s a surprising relationship: long-time colonist Lucya hasn’t had a relationship since her ex-husband Vladimir, but she’s been wooed by relative newbie (and pyromaniac) Rich. Hopefully there won’t be any dramatic heartbreaks shortly...

Speaking of love, Henry’s old service dog Jethro has finally gained some family members in the form of two puppy sons named Boccaccio and Slicer. Hopefully it will make up for his recent loss.

Elsewhere, the away-team arrive at their destination. The way looks clear...

Until they’re ambushed by dromedaries! But the team is too well armoured to sustain any serious injuries from the attack.

The Resurrector Mech Serum is in their hands! We just have to wonder how long it will be until they have to use it...

There’s just enough time in the season for the away-team to make it home.

And we notice the tangled nightmare that has become the huskies’ family tree, where a dog can somehow be a puppy’s brother, nephew and uncle. Let’s hope their genetics can stand it.

Final Stats:

Morales & Sky: less anxious!

Skissor: minus an ear and toes!

Rich & Lucya: relationshipped!

Huskies: inbred >.>

#rimworld #rimworld gameplay #Rimworld: Duster

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mademoiselleseraph · 7 years

Text

Like Pluto and Persephone chapter 2

Chapter Two of my Roméo et Juliette: de la Haine à l'Amour AU fic. ~~~~

The sun had set and La Muette was to slink her way to the exiled Montaigu. She had a letter the young man needed to read, and promised her lady that it would reach him.

The circumstances reminded her of her previous life. Everyone prophesied that Granada would fall, and the civil war between those supporting the sultanic claims of the one called Boabdil by Spain and Muhammad al Zaghal made the emirate vulnerable to the armies of Castile and Aragon. She did what she could to protect her homeland. She was literate, which was more than anyone expected from a skinny bastard girl living in destitution. In fact, no one expected a little deaf girl to be in the business of selling secrets, but that’s exactly what made her so effective.

She was snapped from her thoughts by the sudden sight of a young man on a horse, dressed head to toe in Montaigu blue. It was Benvolio, Roméo’s cousin. Of course, once he saw her, he commanded his horse to stop.

Whenever Benvolio meant to communicate with her, he spoke and signed at the same time. She appreciated the gesture, even if he usually intended to mock her with it. He had asked her why she was on the way to Mantua, and why so late. By way of response, she held up the note she was tasked with delivering. He, of course, snatched it up in turn, carefully separated the wax-bound ribbon stuck to it and unfolded it, meaning to read it in what was left of the twilight. And then he looked quite confused.

A noble effort, she thought, but she knew that there were astoundingly few people of Verona, if any, that could read or write Arabic. Much fewer than lived in Granada. It made her job easier. Writing that came so naturally to her could now be read by practically no one.

She reached her hand out, open and expecting, and he gave her back the note.

“I saw the lady Juliette’s name,” he stated. “Is this going to Roméo?”

She gave a curt nod and scampered off in hopes of not wasting any more time. He grabbed her arm.

“Wait,” he asked. “Let me take you to him.”

She turned without response and was about to start off again when he grabbed her shoulder.

“It’s a long way and it’s not safe for a woman alone. Please.”

She pulled a knife from her garter and replied with her hands, “Bad luck, attacking a woman alone.”

“I understand,” he told her. “It’s a day’s walk there and back. If you want a chance at being home by tomorrow I can help. Even if it’s just the way there and not the way back.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him with suspicion, then tapped her forefinger on her forehead to ask why.

“In all honesty,” he replied, “I am alone as well, and I am not armed. Sharing the road with a fellow traveler would be good, one with a knife even better.”

She considered for a bit and accepted. She mounted behind him and rode side saddle so as to more easily reach her tucked-away weapon and dismount. She kept hold of his shoulders in order to not fall off.

Benvolio had often offered rides to others who went without. It was his way. His horse was a sturdy crossbreed named Janus, not the most agile beast or a particularly tall one, but gentle and strong enough to carry two. He had a special saddle constructed for the express purpose of allowing someone to sit behind him and make the weight of two separate people easier to bear.

Even with her behind him, he could see flashes of her red skirt out of the corner of his eye.

How do they afford the kermes to dress even the servants in red?, he often wondered, but he never needed to ask anyone. It was well-known that the Capulets kept a hold of their wealth through strategic marriages within the family. One second cousin once or twice removed would marry another and their child would then be wed to a third cousin God-knows-how-many-times removed and so on. Even the current Comte Antonio Capulet and his Lady, born Giovanna de Gondelaurier, were fourth cousins, though Benvolio couldn’t remember if they were any times removed. Marriages between first cousins weren’t too uncommon either, but the family tried to limit it to one every three generations, and maybe a second in case of emergency. The truth of the matter was, plainly put, that anyone born a Capulet was as inbred as a prized horse.

Or a mad dog, Benvolio thought, remembering how Mercutio would describe Tybalt. “A mangy crazed cur foaming at the mouth whose parents were pups of the same litter!,” he would say. It was only a few nights ago that Mercutio talked of a masquerade ball celebrating some Capulet brat’s betrothal. “And why not celebrate so lavishly?” he had laughed. “They never marry outside the family, so this is really quite an event!” But Mercutio was gone now. He would never shake the world with his laughter again.

La Muette would never honor the offence with a reply. That is, not a reply of words. Her hands would answer, but by forming fists instead of signs. Her anger was a rare sight, but that only made it all the more startling to see. It was not unlike a tiger that would slink out of the woods to drink at a stream where children often played and women washed clothes. Insulting the House Capulet was one way to bring forth her wrath, the other way was to call her a Spaniard.

The Comte Capulet took his own ship to rescue her and her elder sister; then starving, penniless, and recently orphaned bastard daughters of some great-uncle Capulet’s stepson. He brought them to his home as serving gentlewomen before their city fell to the Reconquista. Everyone knew of it, as discreet as it was intended to be, and murmured about from Venice to Florence and as far west as Savoy. They were charming girls, it was said, so much that a man could get drunk on their presence alone. Benvolio refused to believe it when he first heard it, but when he saw the younger sister laughing and shaping her thoughts in the air with her hands, he reluctantly admitted to himself that perhaps there was some truth to the rumor.

Her hair is red as fire, he’d thought, and there’s a passion burning as bright and hot in her eyes. She even moved in lithe and flickering sequences like a gentle flame and bore a sense of dignity befitting the sun.

And now she sat behind him with a beautiful, expressive hand on each of his shoulders. He wanted to reach for one, to touch it and hold it, but she was already suspicious of him and the knife she kept in her garter could without a doubt kill him before he could explain.

Alternating between trot, gallop, and rest, they arrived in Mantua just under two hours later. After some asking around about a recently settled exile, the pair were on their way to Roméo’s new dwelling.

It was smaller than anything he lived in before, more a room than a proper house. La Muette noticed it was about the size of the servants’ quarters only without all the beds. Roméo was trying to help the young servant boy he brought with him build a fire. Upon hearing steps at the door, he looked up and embraced his cousin without having to think about it. When he pulled away again, all could see tears streaming down his cheeks. They didn’t seem to match his smile.

“Benvolio, my friend,” he called, squeezing his arms and giving him a playful shove, “the Prince has cheated me. He seems to find banishment more merciful than death. He must not realize how lonely it is to be surrounded by strangers. I hadn’t until I arrived.” He took a breath and regained his composure. “Now,” he continued, “I appreciate your company, but tell me, why are you here?”

Benvolio cracked a smile and let out a chuckle. “Your mother sent me, as you could have guessed. She’ll not rest until I bring back news that you are not dead in a ditch.” He looked around his cousin’s miserable lodgings. “It’s seems her fears were not wholly unfounded.”

The servant boy, named Piero La Muette remembered, was taking Janus to a tiny stable outside. Roméo shot an irritated look at the wood in the fireplace. “It’s too green to light,” he explained. “We shall have to pile on blankets and pray for a mild night.” His eyes fell on La Muette dressed in Capulet red and he asked why Benvolio brought her.

La Muette answered herself by handing him the letter.

“The seal is broken,” he observed.

La Muette gestured toward Benvolio. Roméo nodded and unfolded it. It smelled of his love and that reassure him, but he couldn’t read the script. He turned it around, trying to see if he was supposed to be seeing something else.

“Arabic,” she explained with her hands. “Should it reach the wrong people. Lady Juliette’s words, she signed. I can interpret.”

“Pray do!” he implored. “I’ve a pen, ink, and paper. There’s a table you can write on.”

“Only for you,” she explained, her hands moving in subtle flickers, as if they were whispering. “Not with him.” And she moved her eyes in Benvolio’s direction.

Roméo nodded, instructing his cousin to stay near the door in case Piero should need any help. He did as he was requested and La Muette set to rewriting the letter so Roméo could read it.

My love, Roméo, it opened;

My Lord father and Lady mother know nothing of our union, and perhaps the secrecy has damaged more than helped. With he that they had betrothed me to dead, they decided to wed me to my own dear cousin, Tybalt. He has revealed to me that he intends for the marriage between us to be nothing but an act to appease our family. Worry not. We shall be together soon. With deepest and most ardent affection,

Juliette

His heart swelled and burst. He could have kissed the maid in red without realizing it, had he not his one shred of self control. He almost did anyway.

“Should I write a reply?” he whispered with clumsy signs.

“No,” she answered, her fingers still whispering like ember. “Only more trouble, more to hide. Ought to burn that translation. Soon as you’re able to light a fire.”

He nodded, crumpling the paper into his boot when he heard Benvolio open the door for Piero. The two approached the table and Roméo prepared to play the host.

“Unfortunately,” he started, “due to circumstance, all I have to offer is water and stale black bread.” He turned to La Muette. “Would our welcomed messenger like any?” he asked her.

She in turn explained that her business was finished and she needed to return home. He insisted she take a slice of the bread for her journey and wished her safe travels. She signed a thank you, curtsied, and left, thinking about how Benvolio looked at her when he thought she couldn’t see.

Meanwhile, her sister Carmina and Tybalt were sharing his bed.

He had so often invited her to spend the night in the large featherbed he inherited from his father that she began to make nightly visits as she pleased. He couldn’t be happier for it. He found comforting security in her arms and steady tranquility in her words. She was like stone, stoic and immovable, happy to listen and share her wisdom without moralizing.

In fact, with all that Carmina told him about her upbringing with La Muette, it often seemed the sisters were tossed into a fire pit. The younger sister became the fire, passionate and boisterous, and the elder chose to harden like clay rather than be consumed and crumble to ash. Tybalt was fond of her, thought her pretty, respected the simple and objective logic she used in her advice, but more than that, he trusted her.

Trust wasn’t something he gave freely, not even to women. She was the only one he told about Juliette, though he was sure she wasn’t the only one to know. He asked her if it was wrong to desire one so close in blood. She asked him in turn if it was wrong to want to kill every Montaigu when it was written by God “Thou shalt not kill”.

When he couldn’t answer, she told him, “Morality is often too ambiguous and life often too complicated for the two to ever align. Think instead of results. Right and wrong are questions for your confessor. You ought to ask yourself instead who will be hurt and if it’s worth it.”

She had said this with her fingers in his hair. He laid his head on her lap as he’d been violently sobbing into his wine. It had been the eve of sixteenth birthday after spending the better part of a year in France, and he asked her to keep him from making rash decisions. He felt safe with her, even in so vulnerable a position; with his throat bared to her and his hair loose and available to forceful hands.

He told her everything about it. About the woman in France his aunt sent him to, how she told him to kill her husband and her greedy touch and the way she filed her nails like she was honing a blade. He told he of the Lady Capulet as well; how she pushed him against the wall and slipped her tongue into his mouth when he returned home. He pushed away and hadn’t been able to look her in the eye since.

The two had quickly become inseparable.

And now Carmina sat at the edge of the bed, combing her fingers through her hair, saying, “This is our last appointment, isn’t it? I know that with any other woman you would consider, but you wouldn’t dishonor the little comtesse by keeping a mistress.”

“No,” he said. “My keeping a mistress couldn’t possibly dishonor another man’s wife.”

“So there was a wedding,” she snarked in conclusion while adjusting a stocking.

“And a consummation,” Tybalt added.

“You Capulets waste no time, to be sure,” she mused with a dry chuckle. “How do you know for certain? I doubt the boy would have lived if you caught him in the midst of it.”

He tried not to imagine the boy in the midst of it as he explained, “The bed was still a rumpled mess and it smelled of someone else. The window was flung open. She had a blush about her face as women get when they’ve just….” He trailed off and took a moment to shake off the shame. He hated thinking of her in so compromising a state and was disgusted with the jealousy it produced in him. “And, of course,” he continued, “he left a garter.”

“Then what does that mean for your union with our Juliette?”

“The two shared a confessor who agreed to marry them. I’ll talk to him and arrange for him to perform the ceremony in a way that’s not legally binding. We’ll retreat to the villa and I’ll take her to visit her true husband. From there, I can only hope they have children and no one suspects.”

“And if they do suspect?” she asked. “If they have reason to believe that there was no consummation, they might demand a display with witnesses. Even if she was your true wife in flesh and soul and loved you as such with all her heart, she would die of shame if pushed to that.”

“The betrothal will happen tomorrow,” he thought aloud, “and there will be at least a week until the wedding proper. I have time to figure it out. Not much time, but I have time.”

“And what am I to do with the ring, then?” she asked, looking intently at her left hand.

She wore an old Capulet signet ring like a wedding ring. It had been Tybalt’s and he gave it to her. It was something of a joke between them. Everyone knew what they were to each other and what they did behind closed doors and bed curtains. Even Juliette knew. Her Nurse told her that they were “off being husband and wife” and the little comtesse walked in on them one morning before Carmina had a chance to dress.

“Play the part you think fits best. Keep it on your finger and be bitter, if you think you should. Or wear it on a different finger and weep, if you think that would be better. Or wear it round your neck and look to suffer silently. I don’t know.”

She stroked his hair, whispering, “I don’t have to leave. I can stay if you need me to.”

He took her hand in his and slid it down to his cheek. “I would like that.”

She laid in the bed again with his head on her shoulder and her fingers combing through his hair.

“I was unkind to you the night before last,” he muttered. “I don’t expect forgiveness for it any time soon, but I swear to you it will not happen to that degree ever again.”

“I know,” she said.

~~~~

#retj #roméo et juliette #fanfic #like pluto and persephone

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morganbelarus · 5 years

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Rare Gorillas Have Declined So Much They’re Suffering Harmful Genetic Mutations Due To Inbreeding

This year, we learned that wildlife populations around the world haveplummeted by 60 percent in just 40 years.

Largely thanks to human activity, iconic creatures from vast elephantsto teeny tiny beesare being lost at a troubling rate. But what effects do dwindling populations have on the animals themselves?

A new study, published in the journal Current Biology, has found that the critically endangered Grauers gorilla has lost so much genetic diversity in recent years that the apes are suffering from harmful genetic mutations.

Essentially, fewer gorillas mean less diversity within a population and more inbreeding, leading to genetic problems in the next generation.

Also known as the eastern lowland gorilla, the Grauers gorilla (Gorilla beringei graueri) is a subspecies of eastern gorilla found only in the mountainous forests in the east of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

It is currently listed as critically endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) thanks to human pressures like habitat destruction and poaching, which have caused populations to plummet by 80 percent in recent decades.

To see how this decline has affected the genetic health of the gorillas, a team of researchers from Uppsala University in Sweden and the Swedish Museum of Natural History analyzed the genomes of gorillas that lived up to 100 years ago and compared them with the genomes of those alive today.

Historical gorilla collections used in the study. Katerina Guschanski

They found that over the decades, Grauers gorillas have become more inbred and lost a significant amount of genetic diversity. Harmful genetic mutations that have increased in frequency include those linked to reduced disease resistance and male fertility.

The team also found signs of mutations linked to a loss of function in the genes involved in the healthy development of fingers and toes, explaining why some of todays gorillas appear to have webbed hands and feet as their digits are fused together.

This recent increase in harmful mutations really emphasises the need to reverse the ongoing population decline in Grauers gorillas, said Love Daln of the Swedish Museum of Natural History in a statement.

The team also looked at the genomes of mountain gorillas, which are closely related to Grauers gorillas. However, they found that these gorillas havent experienced the same loss of genetic diversity and increase in harmful mutations.

The authors posit that this might be because mountain gorillas have been very rare for thousands of years and have therefore lost harmful mutations thanks to natural selection, whereas Grauers gorilla numbers dramatically increased between 5,000 and 10,000 years ago.

Allowing the number of Grauers gorillas to expand is key to their conservation as it will allow their genetic diversity to increase once more.

And theres something you can do to help. Illegal mining for metals used in cell phones in the gorillas habitat is adding to their demise, so be sure to always recycle your old cell phones to lessen the demand.

Original Article : HERE ; This post was curated & posted using : RealSpecific

=> *********************************************** Learn More Here: Rare Gorillas Have Declined So Much They’re Suffering Harmful Genetic Mutations Due To Inbreeding ************************************ =>

Rare Gorillas Have Declined So Much They’re Suffering Harmful Genetic Mutations Due To Inbreeding was originally posted by Latest news - Feed

#Latest news - Feed

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witch-of-the-west-country · 7 years

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Lucas Fiction

I’ve been writing since I was a kid. I used to let my friends read my efforts, but since becoming an adult I’ve become a lot more reticent about sharing my stories. I knocked this one up in an hour. It’s a bit rough, and I’m probably going to regret this, so bear with me....And please be kind!

Lucas’s First Kiss

“Hey! Lucas!”

He was standing in front of his locker, just about to slide the key in, when he heard the commotion behind him: Shuffling feet and scattered giggles crowded at his back, and he’d been deciding to just ignore them when he heard his name in a shrill, female voice.

He sighed, hesitating, key in hand, wondering whether he’d get away with pretending he hadn’t heard.

“Luuc-asss!”

The voice was more determined now, drilling into his ears. He recognised it as belonging to Becky from his history class, a horse-faced, inbred bitch who loved to give him a hard time. What fresh hell had they devised for him now?

Lucas turned to face them – a gaggle of roughly 8 girls, jostling each other with pent-up excitement. They were all trailer-trash slutty with teased hair and tight denim, high-heels and hickeys. He wondered if they realised what clichés they were.

“Fuck d’you want?” he snarled.

Becky laughed, a squealing bray that matched her long, equine face. The fuck did her boyfriend see in her anyway? Lucas would bet anything it had mostly to do with her willingness to open her legs. He’d heard she’d taken more pricks than his mama’s old pincushion.

“Oh, it’s not me who wants you, Lucas. It’s Janine here!” said Becky, and with that she shoved a sullen looking girl towards him.

Janine stumbled slightly on her heels, but managed to stay standing.

Lucas barely knew her, didn’t have any classes with her. He regarded her through narrowed eyes.

Her hair was a cloudy mess of brassy blonde, her overly-made-up face scowling at him even as her jaw worked constantly on a wad of gum, chewing like a dairy cow with its cud. She looked, to Lucas, like any of the other girls assembled to torment him.

Janine said nothing, merely glared at him with her arms folded under a pair of huge tits that threatened to spill out of the neckline of her cheap blouse.

“Well?” he demanded. “Fuck d’you want?”

Becky spoke up for her.

“Janine here lost a bet,” she said.

Lucas shrugged.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

The girls elbowed each other, hands over mouths as they giggled.

Becky’s face split into a cruel grin.

“She’s here to pay her penalty. Go on, now Janine – give Lucas his kiss!”

The crowd shrieked with laughter as Janine reluctantly stepped forward.

Horrified, Lucas tried to back away, only to hit the row of lockers behind him. From the corners of his eyes he could see a larger crowd gathering, people drifting into the hall to enjoy the spectacle of crazy Lucas getting kissed.

He opened his mouth to protest, but Janine was already there, now apparently determined to pay her debt in full. Her mouth closed over his wetly with a resolve that overpowered him. She tasted like last night’s spaghetti.

Lucas felt her hand against his chest, her fingers spread, pushing against him in an apparent effort to deter any attempt at intimacy, but she needn’t have worried – she disgusted him. Her tongue fell sloppily into his mouth, her jaw working with the same enthusiasm she’d spent on her gum, which she hadn’t bothered to remove. He felt it tumbling around in there, bouncing against his teeth.

Janine worked hard even if it was devoid of all passion, her lips rasping against the stubble around his own, opening and closing like a machine. The thought of letting his dick get caught in that grinding maw was terrifying.

The sound of cheering swelled around them, a savage, taunting sound that wouldn’t have been out of place at a Roman gladiatorial arena. The knowledge that everyone was watching and laughing bruised Lucas’s fragile ego, but despite this he found himself unable to push the girl away.

Janine wasn’t big. Lucas could have overpowered her easily – could have pushed her right off those heels she teetered on. Slut would have fallen over backwards the way her type always did for the popular boys, legs spread. But for some reason he let her continue, his shock warring with his revulsion.

He was being kissed by a girl. Vile as it was, he was getting something he’d never had before. So he stood there, trapped by a crowd of leering teens and his own libido as she mashed her face against his.

A sudden lessening of pressure telegraphed her intent to stop and as she began to pull away he had the presence of mind to lift one hand and shove it against her shoulder, pushing her backwards roughly.

Janine stumbled like he’d known she would, nearly falling.

“Get the fuck off me, you skanky bitch!” he snarled. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The spectators gasped, giving him a brief stab of satisfaction. Janine’s face flickered between expressions, like one of those pictures that had fascinated him as a kid – the ones where the picture changed if you tilted it. Only the girl’s face wasn’t winking eyes or a leaping tiger – it changed from anger to hurt and back again as he watched.

Very deliberately, Lucas lifted his arm and smeared the spit from his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie, his bright blue eyes slowly looking at the dismayed girl in front of him from the crown of her frizzy head to the scuffed toes of her shoes.

“Fuckin’ ugly slut,” he sneered, turning back to his locker.

His heart pounded in his chest, the blood climbing up his neck to stain his cheeks with a blush that was part embarrassment and part rage. Something hit him solidly between the shoulder blades – a small, balled fist - but though he winced internally he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of showing his reaction.

“How dare you, Lucas Baker!” shrieked Janine, her voice sounding on the edge of tears. “You dirty son-of-a-bitch! Who the hell....who the fuck....”

Janine started to sob.

Lucas grabbed his books from his locker and slammed it shut angrily. People were dispersing now the show was over, but Becky remained to console her friend.

“Lucas Baker, you ain’t shit!” she spat. “You ought to count yourself lucky!”

Lucas turned, shrugging, refusing to look at either of them.

“Didn’t get nothing she ain’t given to dozens of others,” he remarked as he slouched away, hoping the baggy hem of his hoodie was covering the erection she’d given him.

The rest of Lucas’s day was spent in a welter of confused emotions. He felt like he was surrounded by a crackling black cloud shot through with red sparks that followed him everywhere. Though he tried not to notice the people around him, he occasionally caught a glimpse of that foul whore Becky, fawning all over her prickish boyfriend with a devotion that made him want to puke.

Voices muttered wherever he went - threats, laughter, repulsion. They were all talking about him, crazy Lucas who lived in the swamp, and Janine – poor Janine who’d had to kiss him in the hallway and had gotten abuse for her efforts.

Well, fuck them. Fuck them all to hell. He’d show them one day.

At one point Zoe tried to speak to him. News travelled fast in this shit-pit and she’d heard all about it, but he didn’t want her fucking sympathy. Even though they fought each other a good chunk of the time, she was still his sister and hated it went he got picked on. He couldn’t have borne her pity, though.

Lucas left alone at the end of the day, not waiting to walk home with Zoe. He needed to be alone with his wrath, to let his frustration unspool before him and follow its trail to a point where he could cope with his emotions.

Becky was by the gate, smooching with her boyfriend. Fucking Oliver. It had to be destiny that a bitch like Becky would end up with his childhood tormentor. He remembered the stories he’d written when he was younger, about his revenge on Oliver. He’d written some of them as diary entries, hoping to make them feel more real. In one he’d fed Oliver to the gators in the swamp at the back of the house. In another he’d locked him in the attic to starve to death. But no matter what Lucas had written, he'd go to school the next day to see Oliver there, grinning and gloating and alive.

As his sneakers kicked up the road dust he daydreamed about building something. Some instrument of torture. Something with blades.

In his fantasy, he had all three of them – Oliver, Becky and Janine – tied up at his mercy. They’d be crying, he thought, maybe begging to be released. And then he’d show them what he had in store for them.

To survive, they’d have to betray each other. He’d ask them questions, maybe, that they’d have to get right. He thought about a guillotine that would slice off Oliver’s dick, but discarded that idea. Janine and Becky didn’t have dicks. They all had fingers though.

He imagined a metal bed he could strap their hands to, with five smaller guillotines poised over their fingers, ready to slice them off. That would work. And maybe not questions – that would require some book research, and he had no time for books. Maybe a card game...?

By the time he reached home, Lucas was calmer, almost humming in his good mood. The thought of revenge had soothed him so much that when his mother asked him how his day had been, he was able to respond in a normal tone of voice.

As he lay in bed that night he mulled his ideas over once more before tucking them away in the recesses of his mind. It was nice to pretend, but he’d never actually build something like that.

Probably.

#lucas baker

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survivorinternational · 5 years

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Episode 3 - "I wish you were BORN in 1920 so you wouldn't be in this org" - Emily

I was close to getting an idol without searching more than twice. Michael told me he had been gathering info and narrowed down to three locations, I had already searched one so thats two. Tyler was going to search one, micheal the other. So i thought: if i beat one of them to an idol search i will have it without then knowing. But idol was gone, rip. At least I have an alliance now, i like tyler idk about michael though. Anyone who can gather that much idol info must be shady to some degree.

I am pretty good at Semantris but we are not winning this challenge.

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Oh yeah I guess maybe I shouldn't try too hard to not be a challenge target at merge. I guess I'll try to get the promised 6k ; my top 5 scores are 6k - 9k for comparison so it might not be the easiest thing.

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So far Vilma, Richmond (Clash) and Ginger have said they will attend the watch-together. Hopefully we have a good time.

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Day 5: God that music video is hilarious... basic... but funny Immunity win! YES! Still undefeated as a tribe. Continue to build social relations. Worked out most places that have been searched... Maybe i should do a spread sheet. Tomorrow Me and Tyler will search the last few places and hopefully find the idol. Day 6: GG Ruthie. Reward challenge, Word association, ok. Idol search has produced nothing... This is concerning... Someone must have it by now but no-one is saying. My guess is that its Stephen. Dean is more distant, this is also concerning. Dean is sitting out this challenge. Approached Tyler and Stephen about an alliance, Its going ahead, invited Jacob to be a 4th. If all goes to plan, I should know where all votes are going atm, It seems that most players trust me the most and are willing to work with me, but this is a double edge sword. Talk of a swap is happening... god i hope not yet.

So Laelaps comes up and tells me that there's an alliance of 4 forming with me not inside - Tyler, Stephen, Jacob and himself. Yes it does give me some comfort that he's told me and that we're still sticking together, but I don't like being possibly on the outside 4 to 2. I'm just trusting in my alliance of Jacob and Laelaps that even if they're playing both sides they'd rather take me, and I'm trying to appear less threatening to save myself here.

I hate to sound like that brawn comp beast girl but my tribe is full of inbreds and incapable of doing anything well. first of all, our music video was SHIT because only me and patrick actually tried and contributed something worth anything. second, this flash game is literally so easy..... and they're all like uWu I can't do it :/ like are y'all dumb dumb STUPID dumb? like what's up man? I've been doing this for like an hour at most and I've been getting 4400+ consistently and Patrick goes "my high score is 1920" bitch WHAT I wish you were BORN in 1920 so you wouldn't be in this org that was mean I'm kidding lol but im not I hate this tribe they're all so BORING I need some different timezones in my life. someone put vilma on my tribe. I don't know her and post season I really hope she doesn't think these confessionals are creepy. vilma I want to be your best friend everyone on my tribe sucks ): also last vote (sorry I didn't make a confession about it early) was okay - Ruthie wanted to go so we voted her out. ): rip her I love her so much. I was really looking forward to playing with her. but the good thing was it was easy and simple. if we go to tribal again idk if it'd be as simple lol. also im so bad at talking to these people???? they're so bland!!! maybe others are talking but im certainly not getting anywhere socially except with randy occasionally. I'd want to work with randy or Patrick. im not the biggest fan of liana or Daniel so if we went to tribal again that's who id want to go. I think I could make it happen too. maybe? who knows maybe they have it out for me fjdlkasjflas uhhhh okay bye bye

if the 24 hour challenge is word race i will flip

I love European Michael, he is the best European.

During the word making immunity challenge the Europeans were up at 4am kicking our butts and Tyler who isnt participating starts talking about a European girl on their tribe that seems to be good at everything so I go to check and I think it's Vilma and want to confirm with him. Then the next word we had to make was coincidentally V5, so guess what I wrote xD

I think I'm coming off bossy in my tribe. Which I don't want to seem. But everything has got to be perfect and in order so there are no mistakes. We must win.

You know what? im going to bed. If we lose the challenge so be it, itll be healthy to vote someone out. I am not slugging away through a 24hr challenge against a beast. I’m just not. And if Veni whats to make himself known as a challenge beast, he can do that, I’ll just be gunning for him come merge/swap. I know other people might do the same. But, you know, good for him.

So the w9 game is going on and my tribe has 3 and the others have 20 so it’s like for sure that we’re going to tribal tomorrow. And I have professed my love for randy and he returned it and I like Emily and we’re talking about our idol searches, so that’s 3 of 5 already. My tribe is just like a very quiet tribe nobody talks besides Emily. When I saw how good the other tribes music videos were I got very concerned about their amount of communication compared to ours. Idk who I want to vote out I think I like David a little more but I’ll see what the other two think.

I am literally so happy I've got such devoted comp beasts like Vilma and Veni in my tribe ! And we're also close allies ;) It's cool, I don't need to slay comps to win this... I just need my social skills with me and they can continue to write words :)

Patrick keeps calling Daniel David and if that doesn't tell you enough about my tribe idk what does. but who does it say more about? Patrick or Daniel? honestly who cares. Patrick, Randy, and I kind of banded together like "we're the only active ones lol let's vote together" so I think it's gonna be Daniel! sorry but the dude does NOT speak. and I know this is his first org over here and we're super boring... I feel bad. but yeah he's also boring! and he's sort of good at comps but not really dude. so I think it's gonna be him. after this tribal, im pretty sure that we are tribe swapping. yay final 14! I don't mind going to tribal honestly. I feel safe because I'm slightly more active than some of the other people. like it's sad to say im the most active member of my tribe but im constantly out with my friends or at work or neglecting my responsibilities. oopsie! yeah so im gonna hope and pray no one is planning a blindside on me but like if they were they'd be fucking stupid also there's no god damn way they're pulling something they don't care enough? like genuinely this tribe is so quiet. it's not that they're not talking to me. it's that they are not here. that makes the pre-merge easy for me because I can control what happens on my tribe for the time being... because it's easy? and everyone kind of thinks of me as a leader I think? because I TRY. that's IT. anyway lol yeah my plan is to vote out Daniel. and then swap onto a tribe with Vilma pls

Our tribe results: *posted early in the afternoon that we lost* Tribe: *doesnt talk to me* Me, a few hours later: *messages everyone trying to start a conversation and no one responds for a while* Emily: *responds once and goes offline * Pat: *responds once* Emily: *gets back online and I see both her and Pat's green circles but neither has responded to me* Me: "are you bitches conspiring against me?" Whatever I will probably have to play my idol and I am thinking about playing it against pat or Emily. Daniel is just new so that's a good excuse for him.

If it wasn't a double tribal we'd all still be here but unfortunately we have to go to tribal tonight. Tonight for me could go very simply, keep my alliance of Michael and Jacob happy by voting out Dean who no one seems to have connections with, but I am getting a bit paranoid because besides Tyler, knowing seems to be talking to me or continuing my conversations which to me is a telltale sign that you're not included. The good thing is that I do have an idol and if I need to play it I will because better safe than sorry.

All right, so we’ve got alliances out the wazoo rn. Along with a heavy handed dash of loose lips. So tyler tells me that sluggy made an alliance with everyone but me and dean, then sluggy tells me he had a super early alliance with michael and jacob. All this tells me that Micheal especially is playing the middle, being in two alliances with him already myself. It also tells me that sluggy cannot be trusted with info. But sureeee ill be in a 2man alliance with you sluggy -_- Right now I dont trust anyone, even tyler, but ill keep this info to myself, if sluggys playing me this might be a test to see if i tell tyler or anyone else. I just need to make sure I lay low and keep the target off my back. Fingers crossed I don’t get blindsided, but at least I know I am in no way in control of this tribe, keeps me on my toes.

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So i think ive settled things enough to feel safe, i think everyones voting dean, deans voting jacob. The only wildcard is jacob who wants to split, but doesnt know who. Tbh if he does i dont want him to tell me who it is, ill only feel guilty if he does. As long as it aint me right?

I guess to summarise the word race because I doubt I did confessionals during that. - Michael the helper was really cool and I really enjoyed our banter in tribe chat hopefully we cross paths again. We did add eachother on Snachat. - Me and Vilma once again were the most dedicated scoring 34/35 for our tribe together. She is absolutely my ride or die partner in this and I will do anything to get one of us to win the thing. - Survivor Africa watch was good, we watched the first 3 episodes though it was just me and Vilma (see the trend?). Sadly apparently that will become illegal if we swap and are not on the same tribe which is pretty sad. - Swap is incoming, everyone knows that. Question is, will it be entirely random? If so, I flipped a coin to test my luck and it failed me. My predictions have been on point this season so moral of the story: this swap won't work well for me. - ALSO I CALLED THAT IT'S WORD RACE I HATE YOU ALL BECAUSE I AM TOO DEDICATED FOR MY OWN GOOD GODDAMNIT peace out homedogs

After that intense tribal council I am shaking so much, I did get to talk to Stephen and Tyler a bit alone afterwards in the call so it was nice to be able to get a feel for their true feelings without the disguise of text. At this point if Dean didn't have that idol, either Michael/Stephen have it, or it hasn't been found yet. The good news is that with it being final 14 i can expect a tribe swap into 2 tribes of 7, and that gives a lot of room for bonding, I'll continue to do what I've been doing with the friendliness and hopefully I'm not just swapped alone. I can always try to weasel my way into the cracks of a team if I am, but I'm not quite ready to play the victim card, I still have a long stretch of game left in me before I do that.

Well what's cooking is that I really really think it's gonna be me this vote lol, no one has talked to me and well, yeha

2 immunity wins in a row hell yeah! Ngl, I wasn't SUPER worried about this one because if we lost, I think it was almost certain that Ginger would go. Ginger didn't submit in the last immunity and barely helped in this one and has barely spoken to any of us. Clash and I had a call the other day which was good and gave us an opportunity to discuss a bit of game which was good. We talked about who we liked/disliked and I found out that he knows Ginger but doesn't like him. It's almost certain that next round is a tribe swap and I'm praying I get put with Clash. Right now, my ranking of who I'd want to go forward with is probably : Clash>Vilma>Veni>Ginger

Oh bless at us winning but at the same time I don’t trust ginger so idk if that’s the best but let’s hope for the best and hope I am in a tribe with Vilma and randy next tribe swap hehe

Where is this idol?? No one claims to have found it and I sure haven't either. Could use a clue right now. Too bad my tribe mates didn't agree, since THREE of them STRIKED at the reward challenge. I literally burst into laughter when I saw that. My I C O N I C fail of a tribe. Veni and I are the only ones who truly care about challenges. Well Allan cares a bit as well, but he also seems to have a life, so, I'm happy for him, although jealous! But I bet we would've lost every single pre merge challenge if Veni and I weren't overly enthusiastic about them. I just hate tribal, okay? Plus I guess I admit I'm somewhat competitive, because I don't think I could handle just throwing a challenge without trying at all. That would feel simply wrong. Veni and I went all out in the immunity challenge too, we napped in shifts and made sure one of us was around throughout the entire challenge so we had the possibility to score a point at all times. Plus we made a huge ass google sheet so we could just copy and paste answers whenever a new letter got posted. The first 15-17 hours or so I thought the Aussie tribe was for sure going to beat us (they were soooooo fast, but so was Veni thank god), but I guess they got sleepy by the end and we won!!!! YAYYYYY NO TRIBAL Veni almost posted a gif of himself as a chicken to the challenge chat I would've died if we got a warning for that He meant to post it on tribe chat https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/410716559632367616/599331778934603786/mmm_veni_2.gif I don't know who I'd vote if we went to tribal that's why I really would like to avoid it Plus I'm scared Veni and I's activity is pissing people off Don't wanna go home yet I'm having fun Ugh fuck I'm losing focus LOOK AT THAT FOUR AUSSIES GOING AGAINST ONE LITTLE ME HELP Ugh Veni will be busy in about 30 mins and then I'm gonna be in big trouble At least he let me shower I feel like a human again But it'll be tough If I was normal I'd just chill but I don't have it in me I don't know how to chill I love winning too much I gotta get that bag It's a thug life It's a thug life WE WON CHALLENGE WE GOT A BIG LEAD THEY CANT CATCH UP FUCK YEEE I CAN SLEEP EARLIER I am just glad we don't have to vote anyone out Would've sucked I feel like these past 24 hours brought closer together So I would've hated it if someone had to leave (Especially if it was me) But F14!! WOOP We're surely going to swap after the double tribal and I'm excited but scared!!! Excited because I'm ready to meet some new faces even though I've grown a liking to my flop tribe, and scared because I feel after the last challenge it's pretty apparent Veni and I were the more active members of our tribe and we could get targeted for that. My plan is to try to lay a bit low at swap, but still make sure I get to know everyone one on one to make solid new connections. I really hope I don't get swapfucked, hope to remain in the same tribe with as many og Faatasi as possible. Let's go!

Damn work keeping me to busy to do confessionals. Reward Challenge: This appears easier as we go on. Quite enjoy this. Aim for over 5000. Got 7200 in one of my first tries... Aim is 10,000 Settled for 8200, sick of looking at my screen. Some of these word associations don't make sense. Who doesn't associate Video games with words like Play or fun... REWARD CHALLENGE WIN! AWWW YER!!! Comfort Items get! And in comfort items... A Vote Blocker!!! BOO YAH!!! Immunity Challenge: I called this 12 hours before the challenge began. I am a legend. Seems that most people are busy this weekend. I will do what I can but i will be busy for a good 6 hours of it as well Veni and Vilma are thorns in my side with this, they just type so quick VENI DOESNT SLEEP WTF!!! I cant keep up, I tried my hardest but cant keep going at 3am. We lost :( Tribe life: Current Alliances: The UHC Alliance, The Idol Hunters Alliance. Sluggy has suggested an Alliance between Tyler, Jacob, himself and me which I agree to. Vote is very straight forward, We are all voting Dean as he isn't very active unfortunately. I wanted to try and keep him around but I think I was the only one chatting to him. If Dean has an Idol then it will be Jacob going, which is also fine with me as I think Jacob will be a hindrance later in the game Dean is voted out 5-1 The idea of a swap is brought up, which we all agree is likely to happen. In the UHC chat, Sluggy brings up the point that Veni could spill the beans about knowing each other out of this survivor. Its a good point and I really didnt want to but I told my Idol Hunter Alliance about the fact I knew Jacob, Sluggy and Veni outside of the game but I play each survivor without using my relationships from outside the game effect it.

RIGHT so here we go again u crack heads. Hate u all, this is for round 3 btw so dont get it TWISTED, sorry I made a VIDEO confessional and forgot to post it OOPSIES. Anywho, like the who’s from whovillie here we are partying minding our own business, well me at least because while I went out clubbing everyone else had to do the challenge. Sorry about it. They all love me anyway so ALL good in the HOOD. Here we are thriving Michael is absolutely carrying the team. So while the challenge was popping off Sluggy approached me asking if I was in any alliance, I high key avoided the question and just said who im trying to trust, and HIGH KEY dropped hints that dean wasn’t one of those people. He start saying if we should make an alliance chat, I was elated by the idea and smiles were HAD. The alliance included Myself, Sluggy, Michael and Jacob which is everyone expect Dean and Stephan. This is the exact same as the other alliance chat but without Stephan and Sluggy in his place! I like Stephan tho, so I went and dibba dobbed on sludgy real quick, like a speed demon u could say. Sluggy was out here trying to make ME make the alliance chat, like no thank u that can be UR job I need to tell people I was DRAGGED into it so I CANT make it SORRY. Anywho he made it. So we accidentally LOST the challenge, and much to my SURPRISE due to my lovely CONNECTIONS with these lovely people! I wasn’t targeted at all even tho I sat out and went clubbing. Yee haw, I exclaimed out of excitement. My target is Dean going into this tribal. A.) he seemed really arrogant and annoying during the music video round. b.) his video submission gave me NIGHTMARES now I can’t even hug my pillow without feeling UNSAFE and C.) we dont talk. So ooop here come the kiddies lining up in formation asking what we should do for the vote. Ooo I want to vote Dean but I simply never say it because im not a GOOSE well I try not to be a GOOSE. I say how I feel good with … but never include dean, I then wait for them to say anything negative about dean and oops I agree real quick and keep the convo focused on dean. People were talking in a alliance chats but I was highkey ignoring them because I COULDNT BE BOTHERED I talked to everyone in pm’s tho, love that for me. So Michael is over here being everyones friend so I threw him just a BIT under the bus for a later date. Like I built the ramp and the final destination is under the bus but we aint gonna push him yet. ANYWAY Dean went home yay he will be missed just not by me.

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