#( SOUND OF WOODCHOPPER )

[simeonsaints]

[toscrollperchancetomeme]

WOODCHOPPER sounding exactly like WOLFKILLER though. 👀

I bet Lestat wrote or at least inspired the original version of that one.

[xxcatnissxx]

▪︎The 1st song on top is the opening bg music for the party inside...The 2nd is the bg music playing outside the party▪︎

♡ Y/n female reader (really whatever you prefer) × Moonknight Oneshot ♡

♡ oKaY First time writing okay don't be too harsh~ any insights/ideas are appreciated! [Tw: yandere/dark themes] ♡

*Edited.

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

Marc!.... no, Steven... no, again Marc. The switching was non-stop between the two personalities. Each pulling each other apart and practically screaming to get a hold of the body. Only after they caught a fateful glimpse of someone they've thought they would never see in a long, long time...her.

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The rain started to slowly but surely pound the outside of the building. Eagerly wanting to break inside. However, the sound of swinging jazz music mixed with the hustle and bustle of life managed to drown it out well. The grand size of the downtown bar in Latveria was a known delight for those wanting to have some fun. Of course, it was actually known for the "Important's," or the higher-ups and well known people of the town. That's where Marc Spector a.k.a Mr Moonknight came in; not just to party, but to get some answers.

There had been rumors that an unknown and upcoming vigilante of some sorts had it out for the hero. How did he know? Well let's just say a piece of mail including a flat piece of stone with the scraggly engraving of 'THE TIME FOR JUSTICE HAS COME. NEVER FORGOTTEN. YOUR MOON WILL SOON BE AT AN ECLIPSE.' Was not exactly a fan letter him or Steven was hoping for.. and how the heck did it even get past the post office? Behind the stone was an invitation to a party in Latveria. Oddly far away, but this needs to be stopped at once as Khonshu insisted behind him.

Back at the joint, sipping from his martini glass and leaning against the bar top. Marc was keeping an eye out for someone suspicious while also trying to ignore Stevens' whining about wanting to order a drink too. He rolled his eyes whilst listening and was about to take another sip, but quickly stopped.

The glass rapidly slided out from his grasp and crashing onto the floor when his eyes met with hers....Y/N. The man processed for a moment, almost twitching whilst taking her presence in. The way her curled locks draped over her shoulder and how her dress hugged and flowed from her curvaceous body. She practically glowed with the help of the light hitting her angles just right. Drinking her beauty in, his guard was let down as Steven won and pulled himself to be the host of the body.

It had been years since the two had seen each other and their last interaction was too foggy to recall. However the two only remembered one thing, and that was the vast amount of love they had for her. Steven's heart practically felt like it was going run out of his chest and try to beat him to her as he walked over. She stood there with a champagne glass, swirling the liquid around while leaning against a table. A smile graced her lips after taking a swig of the bubbly drink, hoping to ease the .. feelings growing inside of her.

Steven gave her a grand hug and she returned it. He then pulled way saying, "Its been so long since I've seen you! I - I can't believe how you look! I - I mean y - you look amazing. I'm sorry-" Marc inside was heavily facepalming inside while muttering "and yoU look like a bLoody idiot thats what" in an teasingly exaggerated British accent. "Shut up" Steven said then widened his eyes when he realized he said that in front of her. Quickly whilst waving his hands about in front of him he said, "Oh n - no I'm terribly sorry love I - I meant that towards Marc not you I-" However, Y/N just chuckled and responded with "Its fine I understand especially with you being a hot shot and all now on the news.~"

His shoulders drooped as he let out a sigh of relief and agreed with her while letting out a small chuckle himself. "So what brings knighty knight vigilante out over here?" Y/N quizzically asked with a cheeky grin while setting her glass down. Steven scoffed out a response saying, "Knighty knight? Really? And ah you know I - Its just some business- ahem, what about you eh?" She squinted her eyes and nodded, not trying to pry any further and tapped her nails along the rim of the table thoughtfully. "You know just to party... even make amends you could say~" the last part slyly coming out of her mouth.

She leaned her chin onto her hand somewhat mumbling out, "Ones growth and gains of strength needs a reward after all~" Her eyes gleamed at the end of the sentence leaving Steven's to be filled with confusion. Before he could inqure any further, she jumped up and grabbed his hand pulling him outside. "Come on slow poke, let's dance! For old time's sake!" She shouted as she giggled while dragging him to the scenery out back.

The moonlight shoned over the two as they walked over to the middle of the open, grassy plains. Her arms draped over his shoulders whilst swaying back and forth to the slow jazz playing out back. A sly smirk plastered on her face from seeing Steven's nervous reaction. Marc was practically begging to let him take over at this point, but Steven anxiously gulped down his worries and shakily placed his hands on her hips. She looked up and into his eyes, her graceful smile melted any remaining fears away.

'H - hey this isn't that bad actually.. t - this is quite nice... I could get get used this.' Steven slowly thought as he eased his chin down to rest on her head. He paused momentarily before placing it fully down, almost asking for permission to lay it there. When she nodded and didn't defy he did so and was completely ecstatic about it. His heart was fluttering, 'you and me both pal' Marc called out from the window behind. It was heavenly moment with just the two of them slow dancing in the beautiful night.

Her heart was also pounding in her chest as well..... but not from the emotion of love....

Only from the amount of pure adrenaline coursing through her veins. Slowly and cautiously, she reached over. Clicking the charm on her thick - but not strangely thick - bracelet with her oppposite hand. Gently sliding out a pointed blade, reflecting her nervous, but determined expression. The plan of execution was in motion and would have gone smoothly for her, but just as the couple slowly turned. Marc happened to notice a bright gleam from the corner of their eye from the reflection of the silver blade, 'Ah shi-'

Quickly Marc took over and shot his arms straight up in between hers whilst harshly pushing her back. Thankfully, the weapon only nicking his lower jawline as she stumbled backwards. His hand touched the slight wound and shakily looked down at the drop of crimson on his fingertips. "W - why?" He barely mustered out and glanced over at her.

Tears of anger brimmed at the rim of her eyes, threatening to fall over as she let out a harsh chuckle. "Why? WHYY??? Cmonn MArC I thought you were supposed to be the BrAins out of the two!" She spitted out not failing to hide the sheer amount of rage towards the man.

*Blood. Blood everywhere. The ground and walls practically stained and dripped crimson*

They were at a standstill, but both were stalking in a slow and steady circle. "You mean to tell me you don't remember?!? Anything at all??" She hissed out as she waved her hands up in the air in a manic manner. Marc nervously licked his dry lips as nothing came to mind and shook his head.

*A woman on her knees agonizingly screaming and crying out from the scene before her. Blood was splattered onto her body and matted into her locks*

A scoff left her lips as she distantly gazed at him while flashes from her past popped into her mind. "Seriously?.... what do you think happened on the night of our last moments together?" She seethed, adjusting the silver chain necklace that laid above her collar bone. Marc looked hard at the heart locket that was connected to it. A headache forming in the process.

*In front of the woman laid a man with his neck sliced open, all the blood draining from his body. In front of the couple stood a white crusader with his now stained crescent blade. His breath heavily going in and out then suddenly coming out from the current trance. The first thing he noticed was the silver band on the dead man's hand by his throat. Then quickly looking up at the sobbing woman; noticing the heart on the necklace...and the ring attached next to it. Bobbing up and down to match the rhythm of sobs that raked her body. In a swift movement of his cape he was gone just as fast as he appeared*

It clicked. It all clicked into place for Marc. That night... no wonder it was all fogged up for him. He stopped in his tracks, "I - I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-" "Didn't mean too?!?! MARC, MY HUSBAND IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!" She practically screamed out from the top of her lungs. Silence fell between the two with the faint music playing in the background; as the couple managed to get further away from the bar. Steadily he spoke out, "It.. it looked like ya'll were heavily arguing and shouting at each other." She froze in her spot and sternly looked over at him, "What?" Steven, heck even Khonshu, tried to get him to stop talking. Yet the American continued rambling on.

"Then when ya'll suddenly stopped and he raised his arms...I thought..I thought he was going to attack you. Even Khonshu gave us the green light to save you." He said while never breaking eye contact. She looked at him wildly and searingly spoke out, "Marc.... Couples are allowed to argue. No relationship is perfect. Sure we heavily voiced out our opinions, but came to an agreement at the end." She sucked in a shaky breath, "He.... He was trying to give me a hug Marc. A HUG YOU DAMN IDIOT! YOU KNOW, WHEN COUPLES TRY TO MAKE UP IN THE END?" The escalated yelling left her with hot tears finally streaming down her face. "I - I was only trying to protect you y/n," he whispered out at this point. "You know I should've thrown that big stone at your face instead of mailing it."

Marc's eyes widened in realization just as her dry chuckle caught his attention. "Well I hope you enjoyed the party because here comes the main event that you've all been waiting for!~" She doubled tapped the locket and black fabric seeped out, consuming her body and face. The silver necklace melted over to the middle of her chest forming a circle. It looked almost black with the fabric reflecting of the darkened silver. Her bracelets formed into cuffs, both blades jutting out from them now. "So you're!-" "Eclipse! That is the name yes don't wear it out now~...you know you're not the only one with hook ups right?" Swinging the blades around then posing she shouted, "I've gotten this far and am not here to waste anymore time so let's get to it shall we?~"

Before he could respond, she quickly slashed out towards him and he swiftly moved out of the way. He brought forth the suit just in time to block her blade with his own. Their faces inches apart and chests heaving up and down. One filled with fiery rage, but other still with love and hesitance to hurt the other. The battle strongly ensued for a long while, both going neck at neck. Alas, one still needed more practice in the end.

Eclipse was too focused on guarding her upper body and thus left the bottom open. Moonkight quickly noticed this and faked a right jab then quickly went low. In a swift circular motion, he swiped her feet out from under her with his left leg. She yelped as she fell onto her side, but before she could get up he was already on top of her. He managed to swiftly take off her blades with his own and dug hard into the dark, metallic circle. Moonknight was too overpowering and he managed to rip it straight off her suit.

The circle melted in his hands back into the form of her necklace and her suit unraveled. Leaving a fearful y/n underneath, however she gritted her teeth and tried to push him off. Sadly, to no avail, she could only hold back a sob as she watched his hood unveil from his face. Marc tapped Steven in for this part, switching expressions as he then began shushing her. Marc was still there, but in the reflection of the puddle next to her. Tears once again strolled down her now winded face. He gently wiped them away with his thumb. Steven leaned over her and held y/n arms over her head with one hand. His other hand now dangling the necklace in front of her face. "You have to be careful when using this darling- y - you could get seriously injured." He meekly stated out as he then stuffed all the jewelry back in his garment pockets.

Using the same free hand, Steven moved a strand of hair from her face. "Y - you know we - l - love you and never want to see you hurt...we love you so much." Her glassy eyes widened after the sudden confession. She quickly spat in his face and then dryly croak out, "Oh yeah? Well, I hate you. To the Moon and back.~" Steven and Marc both winced at the sarcastic, but truthful jab. Still both suddenly came to the same conclusion and nodded in agreement. Y/n gasped out in shock as he swiftly picked her up bridal style. "W - what are you doing, you dumba-!" She screeched out, but before she could scream anymore. Strands of his white fabric wrapped tightly against the bottom half of her face. Her muffled yelling was overtaken by his calm, but loud voice speaking out while walking. His apartment being the goal in mind.

"Hey, shhh darling it's alright! Look okay, Marc and I .... a- are terribly sorry for the whole lot we've done. It's only because all we ever wanted was to keep you safe and protected okay? .... it's you it's always been you," he shakily breathed out. Steven reassured, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lip. However, maybe it was from the lighting, or the blurry vision .... but his eyes practically screamed

insanity.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Two Dads: The Comeuppance

Prompts: Hey! Love love love your writing, especially the series of Janus and Patton tag-team parenting Virgil. Can I request another chapter, possibly where their parenting focus starts to spread from Virgil to the other sides and/or Thomas? And everyone is really confused and Virgil is having the time of his life watching it all. - anon

I was rereading some of your fics this morning(which I do a lot btw, everything you write is gold) and I read "How Come He Gets Two Dads?" Which is utterly precious. But it occurred to me that I would love to see Patton and Janus try to parent the others as well. No pressure, but if you wanted write that, it would be lovely. - awithcbravestheverge

Just. More Roman and Remus cat pile. That is all I need in life - anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: none my dudes

Pairings: platonic all the way down

Word Count: 3082

Karma’s a bitch and Virgil likes her so much.

Frankly, it’s about time. The others have been looking way too happy and smug at watching Virgil get relentlessly parented by Janus and Patton and quite honestly it’s been getting on his nerves. Not just because watching Logan have his ‘amused-gay-judgment’ face on all the time makes him default to the ‘your-face-looks-extra-punchable-right-now,’ not just because he’s started bringing his earplugs with him again to block out the worst of Remus’s cackling, and not just because Roman is unfairly good at the whole smug smirk thing.

No, the problem is coming from the fact that the two assholes who are the cause of this keep figuring out when he’s getting irritated and soothe him back down before he has a chance to tell the others off.

It’s the fucking worst, okay?

Like, okay, one time? He’s just minding his own damn business in the living room with Logan solving a Rubik’s Cube next to him and typing something on his phone. Right? Normal. So maybe they sit there for a little longer than Virgil expected and now he’s hungry. Turns out you burn a lot of calories reading a bunch of stupid things on the Internet and getting a bit peeved. Go figure.

“You should have something to eat then,” Logan says, mixing up the Rubik’s Cube for the umpteenth time, “I know there’s a new bag of snacks in the cupboard.”

“But that involves moving and I’m good. It’s only another three hours until dinner.”

Logan gives him a look and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, his gaze lands on something over Virgil’s shoulder.

He smirks.

“Wh—“

A bowl clatters next to his elbow and Virgil startles, quickly turning around to see—

No one. No one is here.

Fucking Janus.

When he looks back, Logan finishes solving the cube with a few quick turns, before staring pointedly at Virgil as he pulls out his notebook and writes something down.

“…shut up.”

“I do not believe I’ve said anything.”

“Shut up.”

Or this other time where he’s with Remus in the Imagination and they’re investigating this cave where, apparently, one of Remus’s monsters has been reporting a weird noise. Now, if one of Remus’s little guys says it’s weird, Virgil sure as hell ain’t going toward that noise. But the problem is he doesn’t really want to say that out loud, especially since he’s one of the only Sides who isn’t scared of the dark. He is, however, scared of the moaning groaning noise that sounds like—

“Eight thousand steam trains being mulched by sentient woodchoppers?”

Virgil blinks. “…sure.”

Remus just bounces on the balls of his feet. “C’mon, Emo, we’ll be in and out in twenty minutes?”

“Funny, that sounds about nineteen minutes and thirty seconds too long.”

Remus groans, “come on, we’ll be quick!”

Virgil opens his mouth to say something about how Remus has never made that claim in his life—oh, come on, you hang around Remus that much, your sense of humor will start to tank too—when something wraps around his waist and pulls him to sit down.

He does not yelp.

“Sorry, kiddo, didn’t mean to startle you—“ oh, hey, Patton, when’d you get here?— “Remus, you go on ahead. I’m gonna stay here with Virgil.”

Now, there’s nothing that motivates Virgil quite like spite, but as soon as he tries to struggle free of Patton’s grip, Patton rests his chin on Virgil’s shoulder and—and—

“Hey,” Patton murmurs as Virgil slumps in his hold, fear starting to dissipate thanks to the warm arms around him, “you just stay here, okay?”

Virgil tries to open his mouth and say he’s fine, he can go, but all that comes out is a contented hum. Patton giggles and looks up at Remus.

“You can go, we’ll wait here for you.”

Virgil risks a glance up at Remus only to see a manic grin and a knowing glint in his eyes. He scowls as best he can and looks away again.

“What was that about, kiddo?”

“Dunno,” he lies, knowing Janus won’t be able to hear it this far into the Imagination, “he must be excited to check out the noise.”

“Mm.”

Or like the time where he’s sitting with Roman on the couch after Thomas had tried texting back to this cute guy they’d met at the grocery store. It, uh, it’d been a long time since they did and they were worried about double-texting versus waiting and what was the polite window to—

You get the point.

Roman, oddly enough, had been pretty subdued the whole time. Virgil had bitten back a wince as he first realized that, mainly because he knew why Roman wasn’t being super expressive lately, only for Roman to glance over and raise an eyebrow in concern.

“Nothing,” Virgil mutters, “not about this, I just, uh��”

He swallows.

“I know we…we gotta talk, Princey, and I know we’re doing it on your terms, I just…” He takes another breath. “I think I’m still realizing how much of a dick I’ve been to you.”

Roman chuckles softly, opening his arm. “I know, Virgil, and…thank you. I’m not—I’m not ready to have that conversation, not with any of you, not yet, I’m not—I haven’t gotten it yet, but I appreciate it.”

“Mhm.”

“You look like you’re about to clench yourself into a little ball of shadow-ling,” he teases gently, “come on, lean on me. I’m warm.”

He sure is; Virgil isn’t sure whether he’s leaning up against Roman or a space heater. Roman’s hand just cards lightly through his hair and they ride the rest of the wave together, letting Thomas set the phone aside and start focusing on other things.

A watched pot never texts back, Thomas.

Yeah, that’s how I remember the saying going too.

They sit there for a while longer, just resting and soaking in the warmth of someone else when two soft pops signal the presence of another set of Sides in the room. Virgil cracks his eye open as Roman hums a greeting.

He has to hide a grin at the furrow between Janus’s brows and Patton’s aborted jerk forward.

“…’sup?”

“Virgil,” Patton starts, “Roman, are you two okay?”

“Mhm.” Roman’s hand cards through Virgil’s hair again and he lets his eyes fall shut. “Just finished helping Thomas.”

“I see.”

Virgil turns his face into Roman’s shoulder to hide the snort at how put out Janus sounds.

“Virgil?” Ah, the Patton Worry™. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good, Pop Star,” he says, nudging Roman’s hand. Roman chuckles, stroking his head again. “We’re all good here.”

Silence. But they don’t sink out, and after a moment, Roman sighs.

“Well, I’m going to go get something to do,” he says as he stands, winking at Virgil when his back is to the others, “meet you back here?”

“Sounds…good,” Virgil says cautiously, wondering what the fuck Princey’s up to.

He realizes it as soon as he’s gone and he almost gets swamped in a wave of affection as Janus quickly takes Roman’s place and scratches his fingers across the parts of Virgil’s scalp that make it impossible to keep his eyes open. Warmth on his other side means Patton’s joined them too, his head on Virgil’s shoulder as he and Janus start one of their conversations that are designed to be background noise.

He looks at his phone when it buzzes long enough to see Roman’s ‘;)’ text before he surrenders and closes his eyes again.

See?

Fucking why?

Anyway, he’s been putting up with this shit for far too long and he’s getting a little pissed off that not only were they right about him getting relentlessly parented, but they’re also actively putting him in situations where it happens more.

…in all sincerity? He doesn’t mind that much. And yes, okay, maybe it is a little nice for their affection to be so honest and so clear all the time and perhaps he starts to anticipate it a bit and finds himself relaxing when they’re around more. But that doesn’t make it less obnoxious when the others are little shits about it.

Which brings them to this week.

Virgil is sitting at the table, not pouting, thank you very much, as Patton finishes getting dinner ready. Janus is sitting across from him, reading the last chapter of his book and reaching out one hand every so often to keep Virgil from trying to slip away.

“You need to eat, sweetie,” he murmurs when Virgil tugs against the hand holding him in place, “it doesn’t have to be much, but it has to be something.”

“I’m not a fucking dog, Janus, you don’t have to hold onto me.”

“Language, kiddo.”

“F—“ His hand claps over his mouth and he glares at Janus. Janus just raises an eyebrow.

“Fuck!”

Virgil gestures at Remus with his free hand as he pops in as if to say ‘see?’ Janus rolls his eyes fondly but lets him go.

“Don’t do that, J,” he mutters.

“Remus,” he hears Patton scold, “why are you absolutely covered in—do I want to know what that is?”

“No,” Logan says definitively as he sits down next to Virgil, “you do not.”

“Well, whatever it is, clean it off.” Patton sets the food down. “I don’t think you want to eat any of that.”

“You’d be surprised!”

“Remus,” Janus says, and hello, other dad, where have you been? “Go.”

Remus pouts but sinks out. Virgil sighs and starts to help himself to dinner when he catches Logan frowning in the direction Remus went.

“L?” He nudges him under the table. “You good?”

Logan blinks. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just—“

He scribbles something down quickly and puts the notebook away before Virgil can ask him what’s going on.

About halfway through dinner, though, Roman finally shows up, sitting down and folding his napkin in his lap and eating without saying a word. Virgil watches him for a moment before glancing around to make sure no one else is paying them too much attention and carefully nudging him too.

“Princey?”

“Mm?”

“You…good?”

Roman’s face softens a little. “Yeah, Virgil, I’m okay. Thanks for checking.”

“Anytime.”

“Roman,” Patton says suddenly, startling the both of them, “what kept you?”

Virgil stiffens, as does Janus, each ready to tell Patton to back off if necessary, but Roman just glares at Logan and Remus and raises his chin.

“Well, some people understand the idea that when you make a mess, you clean it up, and some people care more about winning bets on who can make it to the dinner table the fastest.”

Virgil laughs into his drink.

“Logan? Remus?” He glances up to see Patton staring at the two of them. “Is that true?”

Their silence is enough of an answer.

“Did you really leave Roman to clean up after you two?”

“Oh, I didn’t clean up their mess, just mine.” Virgil squeezes his hand with a quiet yes, Princey, under the table and Roman squeezes back. “They’ve still got to fix theirs.”

“Oh, really?” Janus raises an eyebrow and looks at them pointedly. “Well, then, why are they still here?’

Remus groans theatrically and sinks out. Logan puts up a feeble protest of ‘eating is important,' before Janus’s pointed look makes him sink out too. Virgil watches them go and gives Roman’s hand another squeeze. Roman scoots a little closer and they lean on each other for the rest of the meal.

After dinner—and after Logan and Remus help him clear away the dishes—he looks around for Roman. He spots him quickly ducking around Patton and Janus and sinking out, probably to his room. They both stare at the ground for a moment before sighing and moving to sit on the couch.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

He isn’t wrong.

Now it’s his turn to smirk as Remus gets lovingly scolded for not turning off all of his things before leaving the room. Now it’s his turn to watch Logan made to sit and take a break as Patton makes sure he eats. Now it’s his turn to watch Roman pulled into warm hugs and cuddled until he melts.

And he doesn’t have an ounce of sympathy when all of them glare at him like it’s his fault.

“Of course, it’s your fault,” Remus groans, flopping onto his stomach and glaring at the floor, “you started it!”

“I started fuck all and you know it.”

“Don’t let Patton hear you say that.”

“He’s not here, Remus, which is why you’re here so he can’t scold you into eating something that isn’t mostly burned.”

“That popcorn was fine! It’s not like we can get sick from it anyway.”

“I do not want to know how you came to that conclusion,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “nor do I want to ask you to prove it wrong.”

“See? Science!”

“That’s not—you know, it’s not worth it.”

“What’s not worth it?”

Remus, who had jerked his head up as Roman came in, relaxes and makes grabby hands. “Get over here, I need to be squished back into my corporeal form.”

Roman complies, letting Remus pull him on top of him and settle into the mess of pillows they’ve made. “Better?”

“Mm. Good cat pile.”

“Cat pile it is,” Roman murmurs, “great, now I have an excuse.”

“You never need an excuse to cat pile Roro.”

“No, no, I mean an excuse to stay in here and not leave.”

Logan groans in sympathy. “You too?”

Roman buries his head in Remus’s shoulder and groans. “If I have to deal with them making me feel all fuzzy and warm for two more minutes, I’m gonna throw something.”

“That’s my line!”

“Well, now it’s both.”

“I can live with that. Move your knee.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I know the feeling,” Logan says as he leans back in the chair, “and it’s not—we’re all the same age.”

“Oh, no, I’m older than Remus.”

“You are not!”

“Ah! Don’t! I’m gonna fall!”

“No falling off my bed,” Virgil says sharply, “you know that’s just gonna summon both of them.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus mutters, quickly scrabbling for a better hold on Roman and hauling him more securely onto the bed, “definitely don’t want that.”

“But yeah, Logan,” Roman says, “we’re all the same age. Why they insist on parenting all of us is beyond me.”

“You’re the assholes who’ve been treating it like your own personal sitcom-science experiment,” Virgil points out, lazily waving his hand in Logan’s direction, “you tell me.”

“I can’t draw conclusions now,” Logan mutters, “this is a whole new set of data.”

“That sounds like a whole new set of bull.”

“Ooh!” Remus sticks his head up from behind Roman. “I’ve got a protein shake for you to try!”

“No,” Roman says firmly, wresting his brother back onto the bed as Remus tries to go somewhere, “no one is drinking that protein shake. I am not letting it anywhere near anyone.”

Logan furrows his brow, glancing at Virgil.

“You remember that TikTok?”

Logan’s eyes widen in understanding and he shudders. “Absolutely not, Remus.”

“Party poopers.”

“I do get what you guys mean now,” Virgil says, drawing their attention away from that topic of conversation.

“About what?”

Virgil smirks. “It is pretty cute.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He gasps theatrically, covering his face with his hands. “I made Logan swear!”

“Logan, such language,” Roman teases as Remus gasps too, “what would Patton say?”

“What would I say about what?”

You know that solidarity you have when you’ve just been jump-scared by someone you really don’t want to talk to right now? When you could’ve been arguing to the death but then you suddenly have another person to deal with and you’d rather try and get into the astral plane with your corporeal form?

All of their mouths snap shut as soon as Patton and Janus walk into the room.

Patton looks around at them. “Well, that’s a bit suspicious.”

No one says a goddamn thing. Virgil risks a glance at Roman and Remus and the two of them bury their heads in each other’s shoulders to avoid eye contact.

Janus sighs. “Please, by all means, continue to behave as if we don’t know you’re talking about us.”

Nope. Not taking the bait. Being quiet. Not saying a word.

Logan taps his fingers idly on the cover of his closed notebook and Virgil leans against the wall. They make eye contact and for once, no facial conversation is needed.

He can feel Janus’s gaze roaming over them, as if trying to see which one will sell the others out and sink first. A strange bubbly feeling starts to fill Virgil’s stomach as he realizes that they won’t. Not one of them is moving a goddamn muscle.

He snorts.

Janus’s gaze darts to him and he bites his knuckle to try and stop himself from doing it again.

Then Logan does it too.

Then the twins are muffling giggles in each other’s shoulders.

Patton frowns. “What’s so funny?”

And they’re gone. They’re laughing so hard it’s a miracle no one falls over, gasping for breath as they realize what the fuck just happened.

Patton and Janus stand there in confusion as the four of them go to pieces, each more entertained than the last at how quickly they snapped into acting like misbehaving children caught by their parents.

And if the only thing that stops them is Patton asking who made the smoothie downstairs, well, that’s their business.

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[scattered-irises]

Tale I: A Taste of Gingerbread

Illustration by @aerialartistic​

My head feels like it’s underwater and I am coughing so badly that I think my ribs are about to crack. Every cough is a stab in the gut. I should be asleep. But I am not because I am here to bring you chapter 1 of Happy☆Heroine☆Sniper (which is also available on AO3). 

Who thought it was a good idea to give Vector a gun again?

Rating: Mature  

Word Count: 6782 

Characters: Kamishiro twins, Thomas Arclight, Kamishiro parents, Vector, Tetsuo, Takashi Todoroki

Relationships: N/A

Warnings: Cannibalism, alcoholism, abusive parents, murder, Hansel and Gretel retelling, witchcraft, a rabbit dies

Summary: Rio and Ryoga are abandoned by their parents and saved by a kindly wizard who lives in a candy cottage. What could go wrong?

“Once upon a time…there was a kingdom where jewels rained from the sky and everyone, from the simplest of peasants, to the wealthiest of kings, had something to fill their stomachs. This kingdom was named—”

The sound of Ryoga’s stomach rumbling interrupts him from reading the story to his sister. Rio sighs and pushes her brother’s slice of bread back into his hands. 

“Don’t play the hero. I’ve had enough of that,” she warns. “You need this as much as I do.”

Ryoga’s brows furrow and he feebly pushes the slice back into Rio’s hands.

“No, you take it. I can fish, remember?” he mutters. “Besides, I’m stronger than you.” 

Furrowing her brows in a manner similar to her twin, Rio’s hand shoots out and squeezes his nose, eliciting a weak cry. 

“Take the bread,” she hisses. 

“B-but!” protests Ryoga. 

Rio twists his nose. 

“You can’t hunt if your stomach is empty!” 

She grabs her brother’s slice of bread and crams it into his mouth before he can shout. Ignoring his muffled protests, she turns away and pulls open the curtain separating their beds from their parents’. 

The thin backs of their parents shudder and fall in their sleep. If she listens closely, she can hear the sound of her mother sobbing. 

Throughout this harsh winter, she had done all she could to keep them fed, yet even her resourcefulness had been drained. Their father, on the other hand, was a simple woodchopper, offering his services to their neighbors every morning. Yet during this winter, he was able to find less and less buyers for his timber. And so, their pantries had emptied, bit by bit. 

Even Ryoga’s hunting had dwindled, a sign that even the animals of the forest were suffering. 

Rio pulls the curtains back and surreptitiously places her hand on her stomach, trying to transfer the warmth in her palm into her empty stomach. Her brother immediately notices and he reluctantly nibbles on his bread. 

“Are you sure about…?” 

“Yes,” hisses Rio, blowing out the candle by their window. “Eat fast and go to sleep so you can go and hunt tomorrow.” 

The sound of stale bread being crunched between teeth lulls Rio into a dreamless slumber. 

When she awakens, the sun has barely risen. The hushed voices of their parents fill the other side of the room, coupled with their mother’s muffled sobs. Beside her, Ryoga has dangled his arm over their bed, snoring softly. Rio swats her brother’s cheek, receiving a grunt of irritation. 

“What…?” he mumbles sleepily. 

“Listen,” whispers Rio. 

Groggily, Ryoga rubs his eyes and the saliva from his cheek. He bumps against Rio’s shoulder and then leans against it, still not fully awake. 

“We can’t leave them…,” sobs their mother. “We’ve raised them this long already…”

“Did I ask you to give me two wailing brats?” hissed their father. 

From his slurred speech, Rio could tell that he had already started drinking. Without anyone to buy his wood, he was left at home and whiled the hours away with drink. Where he got the money, no one knew. Rio herself was far too frightened to ask. 

“This morning,” continues their father. 

“At least let them sleep in a bit…,” begs their mother. 

A grunt, reminiscent of Ryoga’s, follows. Rio swallows the lump in her throat. She exchanges a glance with her brother, who was now fully awake. 

What do we do? she mouths desperately.

Ryoga gives her a singular nod and then crawls back into bed, feigning sleep. 

“Pebbles,” he utters. 

Soft snores follow. Uneasily, Rio follows her brother’s example. With all of her thoughts running around in her mind, she finds herself falling into another deep sleep. 

When their mother comes to wake them, her eyes are swollen and her smile is tremulous. 

“Good morning, my dears,” she calls softly. “Will you go and help your father gather wood for today?” 

Ryoga is the first to rise and looks out the window. 

“It’s a bit late to help, isn’t it?” he asks. 

Their mother’s expression twitches. 

“He wanted to let you two sleep in a bit. You both looked like you needed it.” 

“I see…,” murmurs Rio as she gets out of bed. 

Allowing them to sleep until noon meant that there would be no need to feed them breakfast. 

“Let’s not take too long, then. Father’s waiting, after all,” says Rio breezily as she takes her shawl and wraps it around her arms. 

“Yes…hurry along,” says their mother, her voice shaking at the end. 

She busies herself with wrapping their lunch inside two cloth packages. Rio takes a peek and notices that it’s a small slice of cheese and crusts of bread. Nothing meant to last for two teenagers sent to death. 

The twins quickly dress in their warmest clothes and take their lunches, rushing out of their cottage. On the path leading into the woods, their father awaits with a dark expression. 

“Took you two long enough,” he mutters. 

“I need to go to the back,” says Ryoga as he rushes to the back of their house. 

“That little…!” 

“It’s the call of nature, he can’t help it!” protests Rio. 

She knew very well that Ryoga’s pebble collection was hidden in the back of the house. She clasps her hands together and begins to pace back and forth. Her father lets out a tired sigh. 

“Rio…,” he begins, weary eyes glancing up at the clear winter sky. 

Rio freezes, her thoughts racing through her mind. What would their father do if he found out that they had heard his idea? Could she cry and beg? When she was younger, that had always worked. She worries her lips. 

“You’re a good child,” finishes her father, putting a sturdy hand on her head. 

Rio’s shoulders lower and she looks into her father’s tired expression. His eyes refuse to meet hers. 

“Alright, let’s go,” says Ryoga as he walks back onto the path. 

Their father quickly pulls away from Rio and begins to briskly walk through the woods. The barren stumps of the trees marked their father’s labors. The empty berry bushes reminded Rio of summer, where they were once glistening with red and sweet fruits. As the trees began to repopulate the paths, Rio began to hear the sound of a pebble being dropped after every few paces or so. 

“Where are we going?” asks Ryoga as he surreptitiously flicks a pebble to the floor. 

“Where the wood is best,” grunts their father. 

As they rush down the unfamiliar pathways, Rio can’t help but notice their father’s unsteady gait and bony frame. He was beginning to bald in the middle of his head and streaks of gray were beginning to dot his sides. His breath comes out in plumes of mist, as if parts of his soul were escaping piece by piece. 

She doesn’t know how far they’ve gone, but the snow drifts appear to be untouched in this part of the woods. When they arrive at a clearing, their father stops and he drops his axe. 

“Go and help me look for sturdy trees, won’t you?” he grunts. 

He swipes his running nose and waves them off. 

“The best ones are deep in there. Come back in half an hour or so,” he grunts. 

“And what will you be doing?” asks Ryoga, an edge in his voice. 

Their father narrows his eyes and his upper lip twitches. 

“None of your damned business, you impertinent brat,” he snaps. “Now go! Daylight’s wasting.” 

“Drinking,” mutters Ryoga to Rio. “That’s what he’ll do to forget the fact that he tried to send his two children to death.” 

They march off into the woods and stop after Ryoga’s pockets have been emptied of pebbles. Quietly, they sit down and unwrap their lunches. Upon closer inspection, the bread crusts are spotted with mold and the cheese is stale. Rio twists her lips in dissatisfaction and carefully nibbles her cheese. 

“They really left us for dead, huh?” she mutters. 

“When we get back, we could shame them,” offers Ryoga. 

Rio snorts. 

“Father would toss a bottle of wine at your head. Let’s just pretend that nothing unusual happened,” she says.

He hadn’t always been like this. In her youth, she can fondly remember her father taking them to the village fairs and playing his fiddle as they danced around his feet. It was only because of the damned famine that had soured his spirit. Never in her life had she experienced such a bitter winter, where the winds howled and the snow piled on in drifts. There had been difficult winters before, yet none like this. 

She supposes that if she was driven to a certain point of desperation, she would have also abandoned her children. She glances at Ryoga from the corner of her eye and notices that a far away look is in his eyes. He must have been planning something. 

Her brother wasn’t someone who was generous with his thoughts. If he had wanted to share his important plans with her, he would have already. Rio finishes the last of her cheese and then looks up at the sky and then at their shadows. 

“What are we going to do now?” she sighs. “Wait for half an hour and then go back?” 

Already, the winter sun was beginning to set. 

“Let’s take longer than that. How about we try hunting? If we bring them something home, they could realize that they need us,” suggests Ryoga. 

Rio nods. 

“Just don’t get mad at me if I don’t spring the traps right.”

Ryoga gives her a tired grin. 

“I’m too hungry to be angry.” 

The traps they set up take longer than expected, their hushed conversations passing time away. Looking at their handiwork, Rio and Ryoga exchange tired smiles. They sit down on a log and follow the trail of pebbles that Ryoga had created. 

“I think mother will be happy to see us,” begins Rio. 

“Of course she will,” agrees Ryoga. 

Rio sighs and rests her head on her brother’s shoulder. 

“Tell me a story, won’t you?” she whispers. 

Her brother chuckles and he pats her head. 

“Fine,” he breathes. “But if we scare away all the animals, I’m going to blame you.” 

Rio pouts and pinches her brother’s cheek.

“You’re so mean!” 

“No story then,” chuckles Ryoga. 

Grumbling, Rio lets go of her brother and sits up. She crosses her arms and glares at the empty traps. 

“Alright, alright... I’ll tell you a new story that I heard last summer. And it’s a real one too,” breathes Ryoga. 

Rio pauses and she turns to her brother. 

“What story?” 

“It was something that happened to a friend of a friend.”

Ryoga is answered by a dismissive eye roll. He feigns a frown. 

“I thought you were the one who told me not to judge a book by its origins.” 

“I won’t believe a single word you’ll tell me. This story is strictly for entertainment purposes only,” huffs Rio. 

“Ah, so I’m a clown, meant to entertain you?” challenges Ryoga. 

Rio sticks out her tongue. 

“You’re always a clown, especially around that village boy, Yuma!”

A hint of color fills her brother’s cheeks and he lets out a choked noise. Relishing in her brother’s embarrassment, Rio grins. Ryoga gently punches her on the arm and tries to hide his blush by turning away. 

“A-anyways, on the other side of the woods, there’s a young man that everyone calls Little Red. He’s the only one in the village who dares to walk through the woods at night. Once, he even fought a pack of wolves with his bare fists and brought home their pelts.”

Rio snorts. 

“And you expect me to believe this?” 

Her brother shrugs. 

“It seems like given the right circumstances, anything can happen in this country.” 

“Anything, huh?” murmurs Rio. “Then let’s hope that tonight, we’ll have a filling dinner.” 

Side by side the twins clasped their hands together and closed their eyes, hoping to hear the telltale sound of an animal wandering through the underbrush. Before they realized it, the sun had sunk low into the sky and their traps remained empty. Disheartened and hungry, the twins stood up to gather their traps and return home before the sunlight completely vanished from their world. 

“Wait—” says Ryoga, holding his sister back. 

“What?” hisses Rio, her stomach clawing at her from hunger. 

“There,” whispers Ryoga.

A rabbit, with a pelt as white as snow, timidly wandered close to their trap. The twins froze, watching the animal with bated breath. The rabbit twitches its pink nose and then continued to hop along towards the noose. Rio bites her lip as the rabbit approaches, hop by hop. 

Its shriek as the trap caught it brings relief to Rio’s shoulders. She lets out a sigh and exchanges a tired smile with her brother. 

“Rabbit stew, huh?” murmurs Ryoga as he takes out his knife. 

“Better than warm water and salt,” quips Rio, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. 

She turns away as her brother dispatches the rabbit, its death-cry bringing tears to her eyes. Throughout her entire life, she could never bring herself to look into the eyes of the animals that her father and brother hunted. No matter what creature it was, fear and hope always filled the animal’s eyes. She quickly wipes them away before her brother can see and begins to walk back from where they came. Her brother hurriedly follows along, their footsteps crunching in the grass that was beginning to frost over. 

“It’s starving almost as much as we are,” murmurs Ryoga on the way home. 

“Better us than it,” mumbles Rio. 

A moment of silence follows. Her brother lets out a sigh. 

“We have to eat them. I know it’s hard, but we have too,” murmurs Ryoga.

“I know,” whispers Rio. “I just wish I wasn’t so weak-hearted around them.” 

Her brother softly chuckles, playfully kicking a pebble away. 

“I like that about my little sister. It means that she has a good heart,” he says. 

Quietly, Rio grabs his hand, relishing in the warmth. 

“You won’t ever leave me, right?” she asks. 

“Of course not. I’d lose my head without you,” chuckles her brother. 

“And I’d lose my best friend,” returns Rio. 

In the setting sun, the twins exchange smiles and make their way home in peace. As the trees grow more sparse and the familiar glow of their home arrives in the distance, the twins pick up their pace. 

“I think I have some preserved rosemary from the summer festival. We could have the rabbit stew with that,” offers Rio. 

“Stop it, I’m already hungry as it is!” grumbles Ryoga. 

Despite that, a smile plays on his lips. He looks at their home and pauses for a few moments. 

“Huh. Usually, there should be a fire,” he notes. 

With a woodchopper for a father, their household never ran out of wood to keep their house warm. The smokeless chimney seemed to be the herald of something amiss. Rio walks closer to her brother, furrowing her brows. 

“Perhaps they regretted their decision so much, they forgot,” she suggests, trying to swallow the pit of unease in her stomach. 

They walk closer to their home and peer into their windows. The sound of muffled screaming could be heard amid the candlelight. Their father looms over their mother like a menacing shadow, his woodchopper’s ax held above her. 

“Damnit, woman! Where is the money?!” he snaps. 

“It’s gone! It’s all gone! You’ve drunken it all away like you always have!” shouts their mother. 

Their father approaches their mother with a lolloping gait, the ax shaking in his hands. 

“Quit lyin’ you stupid bitch. I know you’ve got some lyin’ around somewhere…,” he slurs. 

“I don’t!” sobs their mother. “I don’t!” 

“SHUT IT!” yells their father as he swings the ax down. 

Their mother’s bloodcurdling screams fill the air. The twins take a collective gasp as her blood arcs and spatters their father’s clothes. 

Rio shakily takes a step towards the door, only to be stopped by her brother. amid the screams of their mother and drunken yells of their father, the twins remain locked in each other’s grasp, frozen. Ryoga pales as he catches his father’s eye through the window. Kicking their mother’s body aside, their father lurches towards the door. 

“What the hell are you demons looking at?! It’s your fault she’s like this…!” he shouts. 

Dropping the rabbit, Ryoga pulls Rio back towards the woods. He forces himself to continue on, even when he hears the door behind them opening and their father’s pursuing footsteps. 

“Don’t look back,” he hisses. 

Blindly, they stumble through the trees, unsure of where they are going. Their father’s drunken stumbling and swearing spurs them on, even as the woods themselves try to hold them back. The branches snag and scratch at the siblings’ clothes and skin, leaving behind bloody scratches and torn sleeves. As their father’s footsteps fade into the distance, the twins continue on until they collapse in a sweaty heap, their chests heaving with effort. 

Ryoga coughs, tasting the metallic tang of blood at the back of his throat. 

“Is he gone?” he wheezes.

“I couldn’t run any longer even if he wasn’t,” chokes Rio. 

She weakly grasps her brother’s hand. In the darkness, they blindly stumble through the underbrush. A frigid breeze blows through their threadbare clothes, forcing them to huddle together for warmth. Distantly, they begin to hear the sounds of waves crashing against rocks. There wouldn’t be any more places to run soon. At the edge of the woods were seaside cliffs with jagged rocks, mercilessly impaling anyone foolish enough to leap into the sea. 

A golden light dimly appears in a copse of trees, pulsating on and off. Warily, Ryoga nudges his sister towards the light. Perhaps someone would take pity on their bedraggled states and allow them a place to stay for the night. They weakly part the bushes in their way, stumbling in the damp earth. 

“Someone’s cooking something…,” murmurs Ryoga, sniffing the air. 

A dreamy expression fills Rio’s face as she looks at her brother. 

“It smells so sweet, just like mother’s rosemary.” 

Before his mind can recall what had transpired to the woman in question, Ryoga hurries ahead and bursts through the bushes. His eyes fill with light and he pulls Rio towards him. 

“I can’t believe it…!” he breathes. 

The delight in his sister’s eyes makes him realize that this wasn’t a hunger-induced hallucination. Like an illustration from their fairytale book, a house made entirely of candy greets them. Its roof was made of large cookie shingles and the windows were made of sugared glass. Frosting lined the eaves of the house and lights glimmered through the window. A small path of gingerbread leads them towards the door. 

All of their former hesitance forgotten, they run up to the house and begin to pick at the candy decorations. After popping a gumdrop flower into her mouth, Rio shivers with delight. 

“Not even Auntie Mirai’s sweets taste this good…!” she breathes. 

Stuffing his mouth with candy canes, Ryoga nods in agreement. Their impromptu feast, tinged with the smell of a warm dinner and flavored by the sweetness of fresh candies soon fill the twins’ faces with smiles, the struggle from before quickly forgotten. So enamored were they with their find that they didn’t hear the footsteps of the candy house’s inhabitant approaching them. The gingerbread door opens with a loud thunk!, nearly hitting a hapless Ryoga whose cheeks were filled with taffy. 

“Did no one teach you two manners?!” snaps a young man. 

Against the bright light of his house, he appeared to be an angel dressed in gold. The twins freeze, mouths stuffed with candy. They stare at the man like two raccoons caught in an act of mischief. A long scar runs down half of his face and his magenta eyes glare at them with annoyance. His tousled hair is stylishly unkempt, brushing down his face in unruly locks. 

The owner of the house pauses, taking in the twins’ torn clothes and scratched cheeks. His mouth twists into a frown. He lets out a sigh and steps back. 

“You should come in before it gets too cold. I have roast quail stuffed with rosemary and partridge soup. Unless you two were out here with the sole intention of vandalizing my residence…” 

“Who are you?” asks Ryoga, his cheeks still comically filled with candy. 

“The owner of this fine establishment that you two thought would be a prime target for your mischief,” answers the man tetchidly. 

“We were hungry!” protests Rio. “We haven’t had anything to eat for days! I’m so sorry…we were chased out of our homes because our parents couldn’t feed us anymore and—” 

“Then what are you waiting for?! Wipe your shoes on the rug and eat with me!” invites the man. 

The twins exchange a delighted glance and run into the warm home. 

“Thank you!” they say in unison as they sit down at the sumptuously filled dinner table. 

A variety of fruits, cakes, bread and meat awaited them, far too much for just the young man to eat. The man closes the door behind them and watches with a resigned smile as the twins begin to feast before he can even sit himself down. 

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” he calls as he walks up to them. 

The twins pause. In the full lights, the man can see their bony arms and haggard expressions. Their clothes hung against their bodies like well-used rags, patched and repaired countless times. 

“Never mind,” says the man quickly as he takes his own seat and begins to calmly take his own partridge. “You two look like you need all the food you can get.” 

“What’s your name?” asks Ryoga, his mouth full of partridge. 

He wipes a trickle of fat away from his face with his sleeve and then continues to hungrily devour his meal. 

“Thomas,” replies the man, staring at the way his guest ate with a hint of concern. 

He had seen children of all kinds in this country, yet had never encountered any as desperate as these two. They seemed to be on the verge of turning into rabid animals. 

“I’m Rio and that’s my twin brother, Ryoga,” says the girl. 

She dabs at her mouth with a napkin. At least she had a basic semblance of manners, thinks Thomas. 

“Twins, huh?” murmurs Thomas as he cuts into his partridge. 

“Yup. Are you alone?” asks Ryoga. 

“Yeah,” replies Thomas. “Being a…sorcerer means living a solitary life.” 

The twins perk up in interest. In their dull lives, meeting a sorcerer must have been akin to meeting the king. Thomas chuckles at their simplemindedness and motions to the vast array of foods before them. 

“Now go on, eat your fill.” 

“You make yourself a meal like this every night?” asks Ryoga in astonishment. 

Thomas chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Today was just a special occasion.”

“Oh?” asks Rio. 

Thomas flashes a smile, revealing all of his pearly teeth. 

“It’s my birthday.” 

“Congratulations!” says Rio. 

Her brother grunts his assent, far too engrossed in his meal to speak. Thomas laughs and motions to the cake on the table. 

“I’m very proud of this in particular. Marionberry and raspberry cream filling with a chocolate cake,” he explains, puffing his chest up with pride. 

“It looks good,” agrees Rio, her eyes sparkling. 

“You can have it now if you’d like,” invites Thomas conspiratorially. “My house, my rules.” 

“I’ve never had dessert mixed with dinner…,” breathes Rio. 

Thomas chuckles. 

“You only live once, my dear. Why not try it now?” he invites. 

He takes out a knife and cuts her a generous slice. Delightedly, Rio takes the slice. 

“Ryoga?” she asks. 

“Later,” grunts her brother, taking another partridge. 

“I’m so sorry about my brother’s manners. He’s not much of a conversationalist,” says Rio awkwardly. 

Thomas brezily shrugs, an easy smile filling his face. 

“I was the same when I was his age. From the way he’s eating, I can tell that he loves my cooking and that’s enough for me.” 

The rest of the night passes by with lighthearted conversation and full stomachs. Generously, Thomas leads them into two baths filled with warm water. By the side of the baths hang a pair of pajamas, tailored perfectly to their size. Invited to stay the night, the twins happily accept the sorcerer’s invitation. Cleaned and dressed in warm clothes, the twins are led into a bedroom decorated with peppermints and gumdrops. The smell of gingerbread mixed with the salty sea breeze brings small smiles to their faces. 

Memories of better times fill their minds as they got into their beds. Tucked underneath sheets of spun cotton, the twins drift off into a land of gingerbread and cream, the bloody memories of the night soon forgotten. 

When Rio awakens, her eyes sightlessly blink. Disoriented for a few moments, she looks around her and finds her brother in the bed beside her, snoring softly. The smell of something cooking fills her nose and she creeps out of bed. What could Thomas be cooking at such an hour? 

She opens the door to their bedroom and creeps down the stairs. The sound of someone screaming soon fills her ears. Immediately, she returns to the quiet daughter that skulked among the bushes as her father beat her mother. Step by step she creeps into the kitchen, her heart hammering in her chest. 

“Please…! Just one more day…!” begs a young man’s voice. 

“I’ve waited long enough you idiotic pig,” growls Thomas. 

He drags a well-fed young man in front of the open oven, where a sheet lies in wait. 

“Last night we ate all that remained of your friend. Those idiot twins thought that Takashi was a partridge. Could you believe that?” chuckles Thomas. “Ah, well. They’ll soon learn the truth as you two did.” 

Rio’s stomach roils as Thomas’ words sink into her mind. She stares at the scene before her in disbelief, unsure if she was still dreaming. 

“Please!” sputters the youth, struggling against Thomas’ grip. “I’ll do anything!” 

“You’ve done all you can alive, pig. Now all you need to do is feed me!” snaps Thomas as he lifts the youth and tosses him onto the sheet. 

Roughly, he shoves the sheet into the flames of the oven and slams the door shut, barring it closed. The sound of the unfortunate youth slamming against the door follows. Rio’s head spins and she struggles to back away from the gruesome sight. Tetsuo’s screams as the flames licked away at him were reminiscent of her mother’s as she was slaughtered. 

“Stuck pigs, the lot of them,” chuckles Thomas. 

Somehow, Rio’s feet takes a step back. The floorboard beneath her creaks in response. Like a wolf catching the scent of wounded prey, Thomas pauses. His head swivels towards the sound and a smile—a twisted smile—appears on his lips as he sees a frightened Rio. 

“You saw it~” he says in a singsong tone. 

He slowly walks towards Rio, drinking in her quivering limbs and wide eyes. With hands tipped by long and curved nails, he cups Rio’s face. Her flesh is cold to the touch. 

“When you feast with me, you must return the favor. Isn’t that just the way things should be…?” he purrs. 

“We…we’re t-too thin,” stammers Rio. 

“Oh, yes, I know,” replies Thomas. “Luckily the pig I just roasted should keep me fed for a week or so.”

His nail grazes Rio’s cheek, digging into her skin and drawing blood. 

“In the meantime, I will have a pair of piglets to fatten up.” 

He grabs Rio’s wrist and drags her upstairs to the bedroom where her brother remained. 

“RYOGA, RUN!” screams Rio. 

Thomas lets out a cackle. 

“A lot of good that will do him. Keep on screaming though. It makes a delectable breakfast.” 

“RYOGA!” repeats Rio. 

The door before them opens. Ryoga stares at them with wild eyes and tousled hair. 

“What did you do to her, you bastard?!” he snaps as he lunges towards Thomas. 

Thomas easily avoids Ryoga’s attack and grabs him by the wrist with his free hand. 

“Unfortunately, your sister heard too much…,” sighs Thomas. “I suppose I must reveal myself to you now…”

Despite the twins’ struggling, Thomas easily drags them down into the basement, where a cage awaited them. 

“You see, the fee I paid for my powers is the inability to eat normal human foods. I must eat untainted human flesh—namely, the flesh of innocent children to maintain my form,” explains Thomas as the cage swings open its doors. “You two are innocent enough, I suppose.” 

“WAIT!” screams Rio. 

Thomas pauses, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow. She pauses, not expecting the magician to actually stop and listen to her. Ryoga stares at her with wide eyes. The twins exchange a quick glance before Rio swallows. 

“I’ll sacrifice my brother as payment for my apprenticeship,” declares Rio. 

An amused smirk fills Thomas’ face while Ryoga’s expression pales. 

“Oh…?” 

His grip on her eases for a moment and Rio breaks away from him. She looks at him and Ryoga with steel in her expression. 

“Yes. I want to learn the dark arts to get revenge on our father. He slaughtered our mother before our eyes and I want to make him pay,” says Rio, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “If it means becoming a monster, then so be it.” 

A chuckle bubbles up Thomas’ throat as he tosses her brother into the cage and slams it shut. 

“Interesting…! Oh, how interesting and horrible humans are! My father himself sold my eldest brother off to a traveling freak show in return for a pint of beer! And now you come along, wholeheartedly offering your twin brother in the name of revenge! What makes you better than our fathers, hmm?” taunts Thomas. 

“Because I do this out of love, not greed,” spits Rio. 

Thomas’ face nearly splits in half from his laughter. 

“Love…! Love means different things for different people. To my father, it meant beer. To me, it means the fear in my livestock’s faces. Perhaps your definition of love is just as warped as ours.” 

Rio peels her gaze away from Ryoga’s horrified expression and forces herself to gaze at Thomas’ twisted smile. 

“Do you accept the terms of my contract?” she asks in a quiet voice. 

Thomas grasps her hands with his sharp teeth bared in a grin. 

“Consider it done.” 

🍪

“You’ve done well in impressing me. I didn’t think a simple peasant girl like you could grasp the dark arts so quickly,” chuckles Thomas. 

Rio stares down at the voodoo doll she had sewn, its crooked smile based off of her father’s. It hangs limply in her hand, bringing to mind the sight of her father collapsed onto the table after a drunken night. She grimaces.  

“We’re not stupid,” she mutters. 

“I’d beg to differ,” chuckles Thomas. 

He throws his hands up in the air, eyes focused on the out of season sunlight. The rays are bright and warm, melting away all traces of the morning’s frost. 

“Today’s the perfect day for a feast, don’t you think?” he begins. 

Rio stiffens, staring down into her doll’s button eyes. 

“Yes,” she forces out. 

Over the last few days, she and Thomas had feasted on the crisp remains of Tetsuo. Each bite drove bile up Rio’s throat while Thomas happily feasted on his meals. Ryoga, on the other hand, received the leftovers. Despite his stubbornness, he had eventually relented. The day Rio found her brother sleeping beside a pile of Tetsuo’s clean-picked bones had ended with her crying herself to sleep. 

She didn’t know if she would rather die of starvation or eat human flesh. 

Animals have done the same, she thought, trying to reassure herself. I suppose we’re no better. 

“He’s still a bit bony for my tastes, but I think it’s about time we officially start your apprenticeship. Do start the oven, won’t you?” asks Thomas softly. 

He peels himself from his chair and walks down the steps that led down to the basement. His footsteps fall silent on the aged steps. Rio watches him go with a wary expression. Then she eyes the oven. 

Lined with silvery curlicues, Thomas’ oven seems to laugh at her cowardice. 

The show is over, ‘little witch,’ teases the oven door. Will you have the courage to do what you must? 

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Rio tucks her father’s doll deep into her chest pocket and forces herself to open the oven door. The smell of burnt remains and ash fills her throat, causing her to cough. At the foot of the oven are a pile of logs, neatly gathered into a pile. Hesitantly, she begins to pile them in, as she had at home. Piece…by piece…by piece…

When nothing remains at her feet, she picks up the nearby flint and steel. Behind her, she can hear her brother’s angry shouts as he was dragged up the steps. Wetting her lips, she hits the flint and steel against each other, sending down a cascade of sparks down onto the wood. It wasn’t enough. Biting her lips, she tries again. 

The sparks come down at a faster pace. The logs begin to glow. 

“Excellent,” purrs Thomas, holding down Ryoga with both of his hands. “Now pull out the rack.” 

“Rio…!” gasps Ryoga. 

Rio does as she is told, pulling on a frigid mask. The sheet is cold beneath her fingers and stained with soot. Inside the oven, the fire begins to grow. 

“Repeat that spell I taught you,” orders Thomas. “The one that makes things grow.” 

She takes a deep breath and catches Ryoga’s eye. 

“Flowers bloom amid the gloom, stalks and shrooms rise away, winds, storms and tempests all, come to me and be my thrall. I command you all to consume. Fires, oh, so red and bright, rise into a plume to show me your might,” chants Rio. 

A rush of power courses through her veins and the world around her glows. The fire before her leaps to magnificent heights, elongating the shadows on Thomas’ face. 

“Good, good…,” compliments Thomas. “Now throw your brother in.”

“Rio, don’t!” cries Ryoga. “Don’t you remember our promise to each other?!” 

“What promise? I only remember you agreeing, not me,” scoffs Rio. She turns to Thomas, a frigid expression on her face. “Could you tell me if the heat is enough? I want my brother to be cooked to perfection.”

Thomas excitedly nods, letting go of Ryoga and creeping onto the baking sheet. 

“Such a diligent student,” he purrs. “Of course you would want—”

“RYOGA!” calls Rio as she shoves the baking sheet into the fire. “HELP ME!”

Shaking himself out of his daze, Ryoga immediately rams himself against the baking sheet, pushing the sorcerer into the flames. The twins hurriedly slam the oven door shut and bolts it, each angry thud from behind them sending a shiver down their spines.

“You really…,”

Tears began to fill Rio’s eyes as Thomas’ muffled cries fill the kitchen. 

“I would never give you up for anything,” she chokes. “Not in a million years.” 

A weak smile fills her brother’s face. Amid the sounds of the sorcerer being burned to a crisp, he turns to her and holds her hands. They lean against the oven until the sorcerer’s desperate banging gives way to pained screams and finally silence. Once they were certain that the sorcerer was vanquished, the twins pull each other into an embrace. 

Ryoga holds Rio tight, brushing away her tears and then running his hands down her back. 

“Once this is over, I think you could become an actress with the local troupe,” he murmurs. 

“Not if it means having to leave you,” sobs Rio. 

She buries her face in the nape of his neck, wetting his ragged shirt with her tears. 

“It was horrible, Ryoga. He made me do so many terrible things.” 

Her brother nods and holds her tight. Then he lets go and lowers her onto a nearby chair. 

“While he was down there, I heard him singing about a room full of treasures. Do you want to go look for it?” he offers in a quiet voice. “We’ll find so many jewels that we’ll be set for life. You could be a princess, if you wanted to.” 

Rio dries her tears and sniffles. 

“A-are you telling me this just to get me to stop crying?” she asks. 

Her brother shakes his head. 

“I’ve heard him sing about it multiple times. Once we take our fill, we can leave this house for good.”

His sister shakily nods and gets off of the chair. 

“Let’s go then.” 

After a few minutes of exploring the sorcerer’s mansion, they come upon a storage room that was tucked in the very back of the house. Upon opening it, they take a collective gasp. Mountains upon mountains of jewels and gold awaited them, glimmering in the dim light. Taking a pearl necklace and allowing it to slide through her fingers, Rio’s eyes fill with joy. 

“This is enough to build a palace by the sea…!” she whispers in awe. 

“Enough for two palaces by the sea!” laughs Ryoga as he throws up handfuls of gold coins. 

Happily stuffing their pockets with their treasure, the twins rush out of the treasure room and back into the gloomy corridor of the mansion. A shadowy figure leans against the wall, whistling a cheerful tune. Upon seeing the oddly dressed man, Rio pauses. The figure peels itself from the wall and slowly claps as he approaches her, amethyst eyes gleaming with malice. 

“You’ll end your story there, won’t you…?” the man drawls. 

Rio stares up at the young man in confusion. Was this a remnant of Thomas’ magic? She looks behind the man, hoping for a path of escape. 

“Who are you?” she utters. 

Feigning shock, the man doffs his hat. Much to Rio’s surprise, the hat’s painted mouth opens and replies with a trilled, “Happy☆Heroine☆Sniper♪” 

“What my hat sang,” says the man. “Or, you could call me Vector.” 

He unslings a long staff from his back and aims it at Rio. The cold metal barrel stares down at her and she realizes with a chill that it’s a rifle. 

“It’s a pity, really,” sighs Vector. “I was hoping that you would have cooked your brother. Then you’d be a villain and I wouldn’t have had to dispatch you.” 

“I would never!” snaps Rio indignantly, all traces of her fear swallowed by anger. “Never in my life would I—” 

“Run, Rio!” yells Ryoga as he barrels into the man. 

A loud shot rings out. Red blooms across Ryoga’s side. Rio lets out a scream as her brother falls to the floor, weakly dragging himself towards the door. Vector lets out a sigh and reloads his gun, a single bullet shell clinking to the floor. 

“Anyways, where was I?” sighs Vector as he aims the gun at Rio’s head. His finger twitches on the trigger and the sound of the door creaking from behind him causes him to lose his concentration. 

Ryoga’s slumped form has already made it halfway through the door, his legs weakly trudging along. 

“Rio…!” he calls. 

“Run!” urges Rio. “Get help!” 

The hesitation in her brother’s eyes makes Rio want to scream. 

“If I can’t live, then you have to! You’re all I have!” she shouts. 

“He’s as good as dead. I’ll take care of him after you. Always better to be safe than sorry,” hums Vector. “Now, to have you die painfully and slowly or quick with a bright flash of pain…?” 

A grin tears across Vector’s face. Behind him, Ryoga has broken into a run. Pain fills Rio’s chest. She can only hope that this man could be found with her corpse. 

“The former, obviously!” he cackles. 

He aims the barrel at Rio’s heart and pulls the trigger with a grin. 

“Now, I’d love to watch the life drain out of your eyes but it looks like your brother’s a runner!” calls the sniper as he sprints towards the door. “Oh, the delight of the hunt!” 

Rio’s gaze follows the man’s shadowy form as he tears through the woods. As her vision blurs, her hand weakly clutches her chest. A small smile fills her lips. Somehow, she knew that although she had been caught by this mysterious hunter, her brother would never be.

[sakis-sweets]

The first thing that came to mind on the new models for me at least was a new drowning sequence? Maybe because getting the vomiting medicine might be harder without info's drops. Maybe you accidentally drop the watering can in a rain barrel and drown your (probably in the gardening club) rival when they try to grab it? Could also be useful for being right next to the woodchopper for disposal, and it's not a super crowded setting.

The rainwater idea sounds really good!! Now that I think about it, the gardening club carries watering cans around a lot, right? Theoretically, could we steal it and lure them to someplace dangerous with it? Does that mean one of the rivals is a member of the gardening club...??

[messwithideas]

Are You Lying To Me?

Pairing: Jake Gyllenhaal x reader Words: ~1K

[A/N: english isn’t my “mother language” so i’m sorry if there’s mistakes, typos, or it doesn’t make any sense, i’m sorry…]

 I opened the door, threw my keys to the table, kicked my shoes off, dropped my jacket on the floor and walked to the living room where Jake was watching TV. “Hi” I said and he just gave a little hymn. I sat next to him. No any movement in him. “Are you in coma or…?” I asked and he slightly woke up. “Uh sorry… I was just with my thoughts” he said, still not looking at my way. Something was different in the air. He’s never with his thoughts. 

  “So how was your day?” I broke the weird air on top of us. “Just a basic day; few meetings and stuff”. I nodded my head and I start hearing how the woodchoppers started to creak in the room. “You had fun with your best friend?” he suddenly asked with a little bit rage in his voice tone. “Yeah, we were having good cup of coffees at hers” I hymned. “I saw a guy walking you home…” he said, monotonically. “He’s a friend of mine, he lived around the corner” I said. “It looked more than just friends…” he said with a more jealous voice but still rage spitting out. “You hugged” I looked at him with wide open eyes. “Were you spying on me?” but he didn’t answer. “Like I said, he’s just a friend, more like a best friend” a shame was on me and my words. Jake turned to look at me. “You’ve been lying to me?” he asked. “What are you talking about?” I asked confused.   He coughed with annoyed laugh and got up. “You’d told me that you only have one best friend” he shook his head. “Well I think a person can have more best friends than just one?” I said it like it was the world’s biggest announcement. “But why you haven’t told me about that guy?” he started to rise his voice. “Well I knew you would get jealous” I sighed. “Jealous? I’m not a jealous type” he coughed. “Well now you’re yelling at me because a guy walked me home” I frowned my brows making me questioning him. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not yelling at you about that. I’m mad because there’s truly something strange going on and I’m not sure can I trust you anymore!” he started to throw his arms in the air. He was way too overdramatic about this.   I was rolling my tongue in my mouth trying not to start yelling at him and trying to keep the tears in my eyes. “I think you’ve been at his, not hers or anyone else” he said looking up.    I sighed “You’re right. I’ve been seeing him almost every day” and that got him more mad. He laughed down, rubbed his neck and didn’t want to face me. “So you’ve been lying to me?” he looked at me quickly and I nodded slowly. He shook his head and were laughing with annoy. “Jake…” I said with a tone he knew I was being sorry. 

  He was spinning and walking around the living room. Finally he stopped and turned to me “Why the fuck did you do that?”   I tried to come with some brave and though comeback but my mouth said the different thing what my mind was thinking “Because I fucking love you!”   His face stopped working. There wasn’t any emotion or movement on his face. “You love me?” his mouth was only part on his face what was moving.    I felt how my eyes filled with tears and would drop down soon. “Why else I wouldn’t have done it then?” I bit my teeth. “Seeing other guy and lying to me?” he laughed. It was seen that he was hurt, betrayed and annoyed by the water in his eyes   The first and worst fight. I always thought that our first fight would be over a red or black fridge. But the first fight was caused by me. I shouldn’t had lied to him about my goings but I was lost with myself and him. I was lost with us. I’ve never experienced true love or haven’t been in love before. I didn’t know what to do. But my guy best friend knew about these things more than I and I needed some advice and knowledge about this topic.  “I was seeing him because he knew more things than me” I looked down to my lap. “What things?” he rose his voice a little bit. “Us” I looked at him. He put his hands on his waist. “Us?” he was lost and confused just like me. “He knows what it feels to be in love and when you’d find your true love and stuff like that…” I started to feel the tears running down on my cheeks. Jake was really lost. “Why haven’t you talked about this with me?” he asked and got sat back next to me. “Well I didn’t want to embarrass myself by asking what it feels to be in love…” “So you haven’t been in love before?” he asked, getting a little bit calm. “Well not before” my chin started to shake. “But when you came to my life, I think I’d felt it and still feeling it” “I’m your true love?” he asked getting closer to me. I covered my face and sighed. “Yes for fuck sakes…” I was embarrassed. “And I’m okay with your opinion of me not being your true love”. He coughed. “What are you talking about?” he tried to find my eyes behind my hands. “You are my true love”   In that moment, I moved my hands off my face and looked at him. He had a huge and loving smile on his lips. “Am I?” I asked. “Of course you are” he chuckled with the smile on his lips growing bigger. “This is going to sound cliché, but in the very first hello I knew from the same second that you belong to me, you are mine and you are always gonna be”    I got a huge smile on my lips –it felt like someone was pulling my lip corners to my ears with hooks. I sobbed out and he didn’t say anything, just took me into his arms. The tears what were falling on Jake’s arms from my eyes were the tears of joy and happiness. I think this is what it feels like when you had found your true love.

[sweetheartofsecondlife]

Swinging at the Loft 11/27

The sweet sweet sound of the big bands fill the Loft tonight. We also had a costume contest, always fun. My Janet Jackson inspired Zoot Suit tied for first with the lovely Brooke’s glitter gown.

Tommy Dorsey - On the Sunny Side of the Street (From "Is Everybody Happy?") Ella Fitzgerald - Sing Me A Swing Song (And Let Me Dance) - Single Version Duke Ellington - Take the "A" Train Big Band Jazz de México - Frenesi Benny Goodman - Sing, Sing, Sing Sant Andreu Jazz Band - Blues Generation Glenn Miller - In the Mood The Andrews Sisters - Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, Oh! Sarah Vaughan - Moonlight On The Ganges Glenn Miller - Moonlight Serenade Cab Calloway - Foo a Little Bally-Hoo Frank Sinatra - Blue Skies Glenn Miller - American Patrol (Glenn Miller) Tommy Dorsey - Song of India - 1991 Remastered Slim & Slam - Smart As a Tack Artie Shaw - Moonglow John Tesh - Barcelona Woody Herman & His Orchestra - Caldonia Freddie Slack And His Orchestra - Strange Cargo Cab Calloway - Air Mail Stomp Patti Andrews - I Love You Much Too Much Woody Herman & His Orchestra - Woodchopper's Ball Benny Goodman - Flat Foot Floogee Count Basie - April In Paris

Alreet, Zoot!

[mamabearcat]

Into the Woods - Part 9

Throws arms in air rapturously - it is FINISHED! The last chapter of Into the Woods. I’ll be taking a little break from it, then posting it onto AO3 with the addition of a smexy epilogue…

Tagging my two main cheerleaders for this @clearwillow and @keichanz and also @redflamesofpassion​ @xxracheyxx @mcornilliac@inuyashasnook @cstorm86 @xfangheartx @wenchster 

This chapter wasn’t exactly inspired by it, but the song I had running through my head while I wrote (especially Kikyou’s part) was Hozier’s In the Woods Somewhere

Part One  Part Two  Part Three  Part Four  Part Five  Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Read it on Fanfiction.net Into the Woods

“KAGOME!” 

 Inuyasha’s heat pounded in his chest, as he raced towards her, gasping for breath. As soon as the body of her Grandfather had fallen, the tentacles of Naraku’s dark youki had blown away like mist. He had seen her scream in agony, throwing her face up to the sky and dropping to her knees, and he felt absolute terror for the first time in his life. He skidded to the ground beside her, unsure of what to do. Tessaiga fell from his shaking hand, and thudded onto the ground, transforming back into the guise of a regular woodchopper’s axe. Her eyes had gone blank, her breathing slowing to almost nothing, head dropping to her chest, dark curls curtaining her face and hiding it from his frantic eyes.

“Kagome?” He couldn’t believe that he’d allowed this to happen. What should he do? His hands hovered over her, wanting to cradle her, hold her closely, but afraid of somehow doing the wrong thing, causing her to be locked away from him, like Kikyou had been to the first Inuyasha. He couldn’t imagine a fate worse than that, for both of them.

A hissing whine forced its way out from between his clenched teeth. She’d reminded him that he couldn’t hurt her, but the thought of sending a youki blast at her small frame with his axe was terrifying. Should he pull his youki into his hands and touch her, like they had in the cave? Would that be enough?

Suddenly her head raised, her eyes flickering open. He gasped in relief, hope flooding his chest, until he saw her eyes. The grey had been replaced by pure black. 

His heart shuddered almost to a stop before beating frantically again.  

“Inuyasha? I’ve waited so long, my beloved. He said you wouldn’t come, that you were dead and gone, but you came for me. I knew you would.” Kagome giggled, spreading her arms out wide.

The back of Inuyasha’s eyes burned at hearing her voice. It was still her, still the voice he realised he was starting to need like he needed air to breathe. It didn’t sound like it was Naraku possessing her, so what the fuck was going on? “Kagome?” he asked hesitantly.

The black eyes filled with tears, her hands dropping to the ground, clenching into fists arcing with dark pink reiki. “Inuyasha, how could you? I have been waiting for you all this time, and you address me with another woman’s name? Have you forsaken me? Have you bonded with this other Miko?” The dark pink reiki arced from hand to hand like static, lighting the pale face in front of him from beneath with a strobing glow. She glared at him, grinding her teeth.

Inuyasha reeled back, flushed with horror. Oh gods it couldn’t be. But it was the only thing that made sense. The miko that had lost her battle with Naraku, turned into a mindless shell. “Ki-kikyou?”

The anger dropped from her face, immediately replaced by a beatific smile. “Ah, my beloved, you do remember! Why did you keep me waiting in the dark for so long?”

“Kikyou”, he stammered. Fuck, what on earth should he say? He was filled with pity and horror. Should her tell the truth or play along? He needed to somehow bring his Kagome back and get Naraku behind the barrier. The face in front of him looked like it was barely hanging on to sanity by a thread; she didn’t seem to recognise he was an entirely different person and he had no idea what she’d do if confronted with the truth.

Taking a deep breath, he reached his hand forward to touch hers, hiding the flinching pain as her reiki burned and blistered his fingers. It only confirmed for him that this was not Kagome, but an entirely different soul using Kagome’s body. “Kikyou, I… I’ve missed you.”

The woman in front of him bit her lip, tears spilling from the coal black eyes, and he winced as she grasped his hand. “I was so frightened in the dark. It was so cold without you Inuyasha. So dark and cold, with only Naraku’s voice, when all I wanted to hear was yours.” She leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder. “Can you sing for me as you used to? I have longed to hear your voice so very much.”

Inuyasha’s heart rate escalated. This could go bad, very fast. “I… sure. I want that too, to sing for you”, he whispered, his thoughts racing as he thought of Kagome trapped with Naraku in the dark. He wanted to howl. “But first, we must complete our duty Kikyou, and seal Naraku back behind the barrier. I can’t do that without your help.”

The woman leaning against him sighed. “Always duty. Why must duty always come first Inuyasha. When will it be our time? I want it to be our time.” The reiki in the hand clutched around his flared, and Inuyasha hissed in pain, clenching his jaw tightly.

“I… I know my bel- beloved”, he said softly, eyes closed as he concentrated his thoughts on Kagome. “It will be our time, I promise. Just help me do this and then… we will rest. I promise you.”

Kikyou sighed. “If we must… but I will hold you to that promise Inuyasha”, she giggled. She stood up, and Inuyasha staggered to his feet.

‘Just a little longer. Just hold on a little longer Kagome’.

 ___________

 Kagome wanted to weep. This was so difficult, with Naraku’s voice whispering as she struggled to keep herself together. All she wanted was to hear Inuyasha’s voice, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. ‘Just a little longer’ she kept repeating to herself. She imagined a hard shell around herself, impenetrable, solid, unbreakable. She was worried about what might be happening with her body, what Kikyou might do to Inuyasha. Her poor soul was so obviously unstable – fractured and warped by Naraku. What if she attacked him? What if she hurt him even more?

“I can’t believe you were so stupid to allow me access to your body, little Miko”, whispered Naraku’s voice, continually chipping at her control. “Didn’t you realise that this was my plan from the beginning? As soon as I realised the power that you held, I knew I had to have you. Untrained, untested. It is wasted on you.”

Kagome kept going, stockpiling her power within herself, rolling it like an imaginary snowball, a crackling hailstone of layered reiki. She didn’t know how much longer she could do this, but she needed to endure and wait for Inuyasha, wait for him to begin his assault from outside. ‘Please’ she whimpered. ‘Please Inuyasha. I trust you.’

“You’re a difficult nut to crack”, chuckled Naraku. “But we have all the time in the world.” He sighed. “As tedious as it is, I must go and eradicate that half breed dog of yours. Kikyou has had more than enough time to play out in the open. I wonder if the change has refreshed her? It will be interesting to break her all over again.”

Kagome moaned. The strain of holding all this power still was immense, and she could feel her defences crumbling. How much longer? What if he’d collapsed? What if he was dead? No, no, she had to trust, had to. She had faith in Inuyasha. She would hold firm for him.

 __________

Inuyasha staggered behind a skipping Kikyou, barely holding on. She was laughing softly, marvelling at the stars in the sky, the feel of the wind on her face. She paused to sniff the air and smiled.

“I had almost forgotten how beautiful the world is”, she said softly. “How wonderful the cedar trees smell. And look, red spider lilies! I never knew they grew here.”

Inuyasha gazed at her in pity. He couldn’t imagine how horrifying her existence had been over the centuries. But he couldn’t allow his pity for her to temper his resolve. He would do anything to save Kagome. Black spots invaded his vision, and he shook his head, gritting his teeth. He was not going to pass out. He couldn’t fail Kagome. “Almost there”, he muttered as he trailed after Kikyou on the winding pathway. He paused to lean on a tree for a moment to catch his breath. Kikyou turned to stare at him.

“Is there something wrong Inuyasha?” she asked uncertainly.

“No, nothing is wrong”, he gasped. “Just a little tired. We’ll put Naraku back behind the barrier, and then we can rest.”

They approached the circle of trees hiding the tall black volcanic rock that contained Midoriko’s barrier. It loomed over them in the darkness, blocking the starlight, and Kikyou shivered. The wind tossed the long blue black hair around her face like a billowing cloud.

“Don’t like this place”, she shivered, as the wind moving through the rock made a mournful howling sound. “This is the place where I was trapped by Naraku. Where he stole me away from you.”

Inuyasha rumbled out a low growl as he thought of Kagome, trapped in the darkness with Naraku; he needed to get her out, get her to safety. Gods, when he got her back, he was going to hold her and never let her go. He strained to feel any sense of her. There was a vague tugging sensation pulling in his gut. He didn’t know if it was related to her; all he had left was his trust in her. He needed to trust she was still there, still fighting.

“Let’s finish this Ka… Kikyou”, panted Inuyasha.

“What did you say?” frowned Kikyou, turning towards him. Inuyasha stepped closer to her.

“I said, let’s finish this”, he replied warily, watching as those black eyes so opposite to Kagome’s narrowed in anger.

“You were going to say her name, weren’t you!?” she spat. “You have betrayed me!” Wind whipped around her, rushing through the hole in the stone directly behind her. “I waited! I waited for YOU! And you never came! My imprisonment, my pain, my terror was your fault. ALL YOUR FAULT!” She screamed out her fury as dark pink power began to gather in her hands, and Inuyasha realised his time was up.

Diving forwards, he wrapped his arms tightly around Kagome’s body, pinning her arms and hands against her sides, dragging as much of his youki forward as he could.

“Kagome NOW!” he screamed as he jumped, aiming their bodies for the dark void in the stone. The wind howled about them, and Kikyou screamed, her reiki burning like lightning across his flesh. He closed his eyes, imagining his youki covering Kagome’s body like a second skin, ignoring the pain of his wounds as they fell through the barrier. Kikyou fought in his grasp, kicking and flailing. It felt icy cold, like the life was being sucked from him, like falling into deep water, but he didn’t allow himself to flinch. “I trust you Kagome”, he whispered, as they plunged into darkness.

----------

Inuyasha opened his eyes. He was lying on a cushion of soft earth and dry leaves on the other side of the barrier stone, still within the circle of cedar trees. Kagome was clasped tightly in his arms, her breath leaving her in soft gasps. He felt woozy and lightheaded, bone weary. The burns on his arms and hands, and the wound through his shoulder fucking ached as his body worked to slowly knit the muscles and skin back together. He was unsure how much time had passed since they fell through the barrier, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes again and sleep for a hundred years, but he had to be sure. Had to be sure that it had worked, and that Kagome was safe.

He pushed the dark fringe away from her closed eyes, stroked her soft cheek gently. “Kagome”, he said softly, “come back to me. Open your eyes for me.” Her eyelids flickered open, but instead of pale grey, his gaze was met by pure black.

Air rushed out of his lungs like he’d been punched in the gut, and his skin prickled with horror. “No”, he moaned, panting. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe without Kagome. He’d failed her. He’d failed to protect her. His breath left him in great searing gasps. She was trapped in the barrier with Naraku, no doubt being tortured into insanity just as Kikyou had. He’d lost her. Found her then lost her and he didn’t know how to get her back.

A gentle hand was placed over his, still resting on her cheek. “It’s alright”, she whispered, stroking fingers over his, trying to soothe. “She is still here. I can feel her, resting. She must have expended a huge amount of reiki in her fight against Naraku. I am sure she will wake soon.” Tears spilled out over the dark eyes ringed by sooty lashes. “You look so very much like him you know. M-my Inuyasha. Not your ears. But your voice… a-and your eyes… I wanted you to be him so badly.” Tears spilled down pale cheeks.

“She’s really still there? Really? Don’t lie to me, please!” pleaded Inuyasha choking over the words.

“Really. Naraku is gone.” She placed a hand over her heart. “Kagome is still here.”

Inuyasha rolled onto his back, his head thudding onto the ground as his breath still heaved, but now in great gasps of relief rather than despair.

“How long?” she whispered.

Inuyasha sat up slowly, scooting backwards until he was leaning against the massive trunk of one of the giant cedar trees surrounding the rock. He sighed, looking at those dark eyes with pity. There was no easy way to say this.

“It’s been five hundred years since your battle with Naraku, when he last escaped from the barrier”, he said softly. “I’m sorry.” The words of apology seemed trite and hardly fitting in the face of all that she had been through, but he could think of nothing else to say.

A shaking hand went up to cover her mouth, and she laughed, even as the tears continued to pour down her cheeks. “I waited”, she giggled. “I waited and waited and waited and waited and he didn’t come.” Her voice sounded childish, a sing song tone of petulant complaint. “How silly of me, to wait five hundred years. How very foolish. How incredibly stupid was I, to hold on to hope while being dragged into the pit of Naraku’s black despair.”

Her hands dropped to the ground in front of her as she leaned forward, rocking her body, scrabbling her fingernails in the dark earth, digging in amongst the stones and leaves. “I waited for him. Was I not good enough? Was I not strong enough? Did my agony and patience mean nothing? I WAITED FOR YOU INUYASHA! WHY DIDN’T YOU COME?!” She threw back her head and wailed her despair, the keening shout echoing against the dark stone behind them.

Inuyasha leaned forward to grasp her hands in his, preventing her from bruising and scratching them further. Sighing, he pulled Kikyou to sit beside him and wrapped an arm comfortingly around her shoulders, holding both her hands in his larger one. This wasn’t Kagome, he knew, but it looked like her, could so easily have been her if things had not worked out tonight. The thought made him feel physically ill, and he quickly pushed it aside.

“He didn’t know that you were trapped with Naraku, Kikyou”, he explained gently. “No one did. Your body passed through the barrier, looking uninjured and alive, but with no thoughts or feelings, unable to move by itself. He stayed with your body, tried to nurse you back to health; he never left your side. Until the day your body died, he was your constant shadow, and his grief at your passing was so great that he removed himself from the shrine and disappeared.” He stroked the dark hair, wishing he could make her feel better. “The story of Inuyasha and Kikyou has survived for five hundred years. It is told to every new guardian as a tale of love and devotion; an example of how close two guardians can be.”

“I loved him”, she sobbed, “but it was not… permitted. A marriage between a youkai and a human was condemned and despised.” Her shoulders shook as she wept, fingers curling and uncurling inside the gentle hold of Inuyasha’s hand. “I loved him.”

“I am certain that he loved you too”, replied Inuyasha. He continued to stroke her hair as she sobbed, feeling very sad for her, but at the same time longing for Kagome.

“So tired”, she whispered in a small heartbroken voice as her sobs subsided.

“Then sleep”, said Inuyasha gently. “I will protect you. Nothing will harm you; I promise. You can rest now Kikyou, without fear.” He pulled her limp form to sit in his lap and wrapped his arms around her, shakily humming a half remembered lullaby his mother used to sing for him as he rocked her gently like a baby. He could do this for her at the very least. His eyes drifted closed not long after hers did, hoping that when he opened them again, Kagome would be awake.

----------

“Inuyasha!”

He grunted as Kagome’s smaller form wriggled in his lap, kneeing him in a few uncomfortable places in her effort to turn around quickly. Before he could even blink open his eyes, small hands were unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it aside to look at his shoulder.

“Thank goodness”, she muttered, “it’s better than I expected, but I still need to pack this, and he probably needs a blood transfusion and intravenous antibiotics too; who knows what kind of nastiness was on those tentacles of Naraku’s?”. He couldn’t help the slow smile that crept across his face as she continued to mutter, cataloguing his injuries.

“Kagome, stop fussing”, he huffed.

“Inuyasha!”

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking as he focused on the worried grey eyes in front of him, then he dragged her into a rib cracking hug. Kagome squeaked, unable to move.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again Kagome! Do you hear me! We’re a guardian pair; we need to stay together, work together. Do you understand? Don’t you ever leave my side in a battle like that again!”

“I don’t plan to”, she said shakily. “Please, need to breathe!”

“Sorry”, he said but only released her a little, tucking her tightly in under his chin. “I am so fucking angry at you right now”, he growled, giving her body a gentle shake. “You could have died Kagome. Or even worse, you could have been trapped in there with him like…”

“Like Kikyou. I kno-ow”, she said.

Inuyasha sighed, relenting at the wobble in her voice.

“Okay, lecture’s over, for now”, he grunted. “Look at me.” He pulled her back so he could examine her carefully. She was very pale, with dark shadows under her eyes. Her expression looked haunted, and her hands were shaking. “Kikyou said you had overused your reiki”, he muttered, scowling at her.

“I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine”, she whispered.

Inuyasha’s bottom lip trembled as he continued to gaze at her, and he pressed his lips together tightly, stroking her hair away from her face. “I thought I’d lost you. Found you and lost you”, he said shakily. He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips, and then smiled against her mouth as Kagome’s fingers reached up to stroke his ear. He pressed his forehead to hers. “C’mon you. We need to get you somewhere comfortable to sleep so you can rebuild your reiki before you pass out.”

“I’d like that, but first, I need to check on Grandpa. I know he’s… probably…” she hiccupped a small sob as Inuyasha stroked her shoulders, “but I can’t just leave him outside. And I need to call my mother.”

“Of course.” He staggered to his feet, then pulled Kagome to hers. “Some guardian I am”, he muttered, “leaving Tessaiga out on the battlefield. It’s gonna be pissed at me.”

Kagome giggled softly, blinking away tears. “How does an axe show that it’s angry at you?” she teased.

“It doesn’t really”, he huffed. “I can just tell. Gives me the silent treatment. Makes me feel guilty.”

“Ah. Good to know.”

“Whaddya mean, good to know? Brat.”

Kagome turned to poke her tongue out at him, and then stumbled. Inuyasha’s long arm stretched out to catch her elbow. He put an arm around her shoulders. “You prop me up, and I’ll prop you up, how does that sound. Let’s move away from this fucking rock. I’ve seen enough of this place to last me a lifetime.” Kagome shivered, averting her eyes from the towering stone. “Do you wanna tell me what happened in there?” Kagome shook her head.

“Not when it’s dark”, she whispered. “I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“Alright”, he said easily, choosing to leave the obviously terrifying subject alone for the time being. “When you’re ready. The sun should be up in an hour or so anyway.”

They moved slowly away from the trees, following the winding little path back towards the house. When they saw the small crumpled form laying on the grass next to Inuyasha’s axe, Kagome couldn’t help the silent tears that streamed down her cheeks. With a heavy sigh, Inuyasha stooped down to pick up the frail form, then quickly dropped his ear to the old man’s chest.

“Kagome, he’s still alive!”

Kagome ripped her hoodie off over her head, and frantically tucked it around the pale silent form in Inuyasha’s arms. She leaned her face close to the old man’s, and could feel the warmth of his shallow breathing on her cheek. “We need to get him inside and get him warm”, she said moving her fingers to his carotid artery. The pulse was a little faint but steady, and Kagome choked back a sob. The dull numbness of grief in her chest was being painfully forced out by a tentative prickling of hope.

----------  

When Grandpa finally came to, he was lying on his futon wrapped up tightly in his quilt, and greeted by a tearful Kagome, who was in the process of pulling a warm woollen beanie on his head.

“Why am I alive?” he whispered croakily.

Inuyasha walked into the room, carrying three cups of steaming tea on a tray. He grinned at the sight of the old man wrapped up in the quilt like a burrito and wearing a pink and white striped pom pom beanie that was obviously Kagome’s. Sunlight was just beginning to light the room with a warm glow.

“Nice to see you awake Jiji. We didn’t think you were gonna make it there for a little while.”

“I didn’t expect to”, replied Grandpa stoically, a bit put out about having his granddaughter and an almost stranger seeing him in such a state.

“Shhh”, soothed Kagome. “No talking. We need to get you to a hospital so they can check you over.” Her hand hovered over the bruising on his face. “I want to make sure I didn’t crack your cheek bone.” She bit her lip, her grey eyes filled to overflowing with tears. “I’m so sorry Grandpa. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, none of that”, said Inuyasha, dropping down next to Kagome and Grandpa to place the tray on the tatami. “He needs tea, not tears.” Very carefully, he eased the old man into a sitting position with the blanket still wrapped tightly around him, leaving a strong steadying arm around his shoulders, while Kagome fed him teaspoons of sweetened tea. Grandpa’s eyebrows narrowed in distaste.

“Next time you make me tea boy, don’t put so much sugar in it. It’s revolting.” He made a gagging face, and Kagome giggled as Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“I asked him to put honey in it Grandpa – you need it for the energy.”

“You need to drink yours too Kagome, before it gets cold”, said Inuyasha sternly.

“But I…”

“But nothin’. Don’t think I didn’t notice when you nearly passed out in the hallway.” He reached for his own tea and took a sip, making a face at the taste. “Yeah, I did make that a bit too sweet. Sorry Jiji.” He held Kagome’s gaze until she huffed at him and picked up her own tea.

“I’m fine Inuyasha! In fact you should be the one lying down with that shoulder of yours, and the burns on your hands! You still haven’t let me do a proper dressing, and you probably need a blood transfusion with all the blood you lost last night!” She glared at the dressing he had taped on to his own shoulder while she’d been busy with Grandpa. His bloodstained checked flannel and undershirt had been dumped into the bathtub, and he was currently sitting there in just his blood spattered jeans. She blinked as she realised she was staring at his naked chest, and dropped her gaze back to her teacup.

“Eh, I’ll be fine”, he shrugged, taking another sip of tea. “Burns are nearly all gone anyway. Hanyou’s heal much faster than humans.”

“But you’re not indestructible!”

“Neither are you!” he growled. “I’m still angry at you, you know, even if it did all work out okay!”

They both stopped at hearing a wry chuckle from Grandpa. “It seems this old man has missed a lot.” He sighed. “I truly didn’t expect to live through this night, and I’m quite relived to find myself still alive after all. But listening to you two squabble like children is not doing much to relieve my headache.”

“Sorry Grandpa.”

“Yeah, sorry Jiji.”

“So, he’s really gone? You managed to seal him behind the barrier?” The quaver in the old man’s voice made Kagome’s heart ache.

“He’s really gone Grandpa. It seems that there was a reason I loved all those stories about Miko that you told me when I was a little girl.” She held up her hand and her fingers glowed with a pink light, easily seen in the dim shadows of the room. She smiled a teary smile. “I’ve finally found out where I’m meant to be, Grandpa.”

“My darling girl!” Her grandfather beamed at her. “This calls for a celebration! Everyone obviously needs to rest, but then I shall prepare a lunchtime feast for you both!”

Inuyasha’s ears lowered as he thought about the current state of the old man’s kitchen. “Yeah, about that…” he muttered, making a face at Kagome as she giggled at him while dragging out the spare futons from the cupboard.

----------

“Really, he’s okay Mama”, repeated Kagome. “I promise. He had the flu and was a little disorientated because he got dehydrated. He’s doing much better now.”

As soon as they’d woken from a short but necessary sleep, she had called her mother after guiltily realising there were ten missed calls from her on her phone, which thankfully had survived the carnage in the kitchen with only a cracked case. Grandpa had blatantly refused her pleas to be examined at a hospital, saying that he felt fine apart from a slight headache, and didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to the shrine. Surprisingly, Inuyasha had agreed with him, pointing out how well the old man was wandering around now that he’d had a nap.

“Oh Kagome, you don’t know how worried I was. I just had this terrible feeling that something was very wrong.” The relieved sigh on the other end of the line made Kagome feel a little guilty about hiding the whole truth, but it was for the best.

“He did have a little fall, but I promise you, he’s okay.” Kagome took a deep breath. “In fact I’ve decided that I’m going to defer my nursing studies for a while, and move here to the shrine. I think he needs someone to take care of him full time.”

“Kagome, I can’t let you do that!” stammered her mother.

“Mama, I want to! He looked after us for so long! And anyway, it’s partly a selfish reason. It’s beautiful here; I’ve never felt like this about a place before. I feel like I belong here.”

“Oh Kagome.” There was a deep sigh. “Do you think I could speak to your grandfather?”

“Of course Mama, I’ll get him for you.”

She could hear Inuyasha and Grandpa in the kitchen, the old man fussing at the damage and Inuyasha assuring him that he’d be able to fix everything himself. She smiled at them both.

“Grandpa – Mama wants to speak to you.” She held the phone tightly to her chest, then whispered, “You had the flu, and you fell, but you’re all okay now. Got it?” The old man nodded determinedly, then took the phone, holding it carefully against his uninjured cheek.

“Kaori, how are you my dear…” He moved out of the kitchen, heading back towards the tatami room.

“We still need to talk about what happened you know. It won’t do you any good to bottle it all up.”

Kagome sighed, dropping her head forward at Inuyasha’s words. “I know. I just… can we leave it for just a little while longer? I promise, I will talk about it eventually, but…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified”, said Inuyasha, moving to wrap his arms around her from behind. Kagome leaned back against him.

“Naraku did do his best to be terrifying.” Inuyasha shook his head.

“No, I mean when I woke up after passing through the barrier, and your eyes opened and it was still Kikyou looking back at me. I thought you’d been left behind with Naraku, like she had been. I thought I’d lost you and I didn’t know how to get you back.”

“Oh. That’s what you meant. I was worried too – she’d been so badly damaged by Naraku. It wasn’t her fault. But I was worried she would hurt you.”

Inuyasha nuzzled his cheek against her hair and sighed. Kagome felt his heated breath tingling her scalp. “She thought I was him – her Inuyasha.”

“Maybe you are. Didn’t you say that guardians could be reborn? Because I don’t think she’s gone. I can’t feel her exactly, but I feel better. Like I found something that was missing. That I didn’t know I needed until it was there. And another thing I just realised…” She turned in his arms, so she was facing him. “You kissed me”, she said, her voice breathy with a mixture of accusation and wonder.

“I did. And you tugged on my ear.” He smiled at her lazily, amber eyes blinking slowly as they roved over her face. “I think I remember saying you could do that again when we were down on solid ground and not about to go into battle.”

“I remember.” She tapped the floor with her foot. “Floor in here seems pretty solid.”

Inuyasha took a step backwards, leaning his backside against a section of scuffed kitchen benchtop that had survived the battle only hours before. “Yup, I agree. Sturdy.” He grabbed onto the hem of Kagome’s t-shirt and tugged her forwards until she stood in the space between his spread legs. “And there was a battle in here, but it seems to be finished now.”

“Seems to be”, she grinned. Slowly she reached out, her fingers pausing for a moment on his bare chest, to circle in amongst the smattering of short silver curls, then trailing up the side of his neck, running through the choppy hair near his cheekbone to latch on to his pointed ear, stroking upwards. The tenseness in Inuyasha’s shoulders seemed to melt, and Kagome giggled as a rumbling sound that could only be called a purr emanated from his broad chest.

“Feels good huh?” she gloated, circling her fingers, scratching her nails gently into the fleshy base of his soft ear.

“Oh yeah”, he murmured, his eyes drifting closed. “You have no idea.” One of his large hands spanned the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. “I heard you tell your Mama that you’re stayin’. Are you stayin’ for good?”

“Yes”, she said softly. “I want to stay by your side Inuyasha”.

His head dropped to her shoulder. “You don’t know how happy that makes me feel” he said, his voice low and husky. He tucked his nose into the hollow curve behind her clavicle. “Has anyone ever told you how amazing you smell Kagome?” He pressed his lips to her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses up towards her ear.

“I don’t think that’s ever come up as a topic of conversation before”, she said breathily, tilting her head and chin back.

“Kagome”, he murmured breathlessly, clawed fingertips reaching to tilt her head back even further, lifting his head so that his mouth could hover over hers properly. He spread his knees a little wider, positioning her between his long legs so that he could get even closer to her. She was so much smaller than him, so feminine. He wanted to look after her, care for her. But right now, he just fucking wanted her. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers as he spoke, “If you keep doing that, then I’m gonna have trouble slowing this down.”

“Doing what?” she moaned, her fingers leaving his ear and twisting themselves into the short hair at the back of his skull.

“Smelling so damn delicious.”

Kagome’s breath stuttered, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as Inuyasha leaned in to kiss her softly, taking his time and swallowing her sighs as he tilted his head to deepen their contact. He could taste the honey on her tongue from the tea earlier this morning. Her small hands were wrapped around his neck, fisting into his hair to steady herself as his tongue ran along her now swollen bottom lip.

Their lips clicked softly as Inuyasha kissed her again, indulging himself just a little more. They had fucking earned this, after last night. Kagome moaned a little into his mouth. He loved that sound. In fact all the sounds she was making were amazing to him. All those tiny little gasps of pleasure were making his blood boil faster than anything he’d ever experienced before in his entire life.

A shuffling noise from the hallway brought him back to his senses. She was staying. They had time for this now. Time to get to know each other, time to learn together, taste each other. He could almost howl in joy at the thought of it.

He placed his hands on either side of her head, and one last chaste press of his lips against hers, before pulling away. Her eyes blinked dazedly, and he felt a surge of masculine pride as he took her in – flushed cheeks, pinked kiss swollen lips, panting breaths. He’d done that. And he wanted to do it again.

“Your grandpa’s coming back”, he whispered as way of explanation, and grinned as Kagome’s hands frantically swept to her hair, trying to give it some semblance of neatness. She stepped back a little, creating a space between them, and it took everything Inuyasha had to resist dragging her back to where she belonged.

“Well, I think I’ve smoothed things over with your mother”, said Grandpa as he wandered back into the kitchen, handing Kagome’s phone back to her. “Her and Souta will be visiting in two weeks when his school term finishes, for a little holiday.” He looked expectantly at Inuyasha. “You’ll have the kitchen finished by then?”

Inuyasha blinked at him, turning to look at the wreckage of the wall where Naraku had pushed through it, then surveyed the broken cupboards and crockery littering the floor on the other side.

“Sure. It’s not like I ain’t got a whole mountain side to patrol or anythin’…”

“Wonderful”, breezed Grandpa. “I’m still feeling a little tired, so I might go and have another nap before lunchtime.” He wandered off to his futon, and Kagome giggled.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll help.”

“You’d better”, he grunted.

Kagome breathed out a relieved sigh. It was over. Naraku was back behind the barrier. She tried not to think about him too much, knowing that she would have to tell Inuyasha about it, knowing that the darkness would probably haunt her dreams for many months to come. She would still have to fulfil her duties as miko of the shrine, ensuring the barrier at Hogeto Rock held firm. But for the first time in her life she felt truly happy. Truly whole. With someone beside her who could only make her feel stronger.

“C’mon”, she said, taking Inuyasha’s hand. “Help me clean up a bit in here so we can make something for lunch. You’ll never guess what I found in the back of Grandpa’s fridge.”

“Bacon?!” Inuyasha’s eyes lit up, his ears perking to attention.

“Yup. Bacon and eggs for lunch?” she suggested.

“Oh yeah!”, he said grinning appreciatively at her. He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Anythin’ for dessert?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see”, she winked.

“That’s my girl...”

[randomvarious]

Woody Herman - “Woodchoppers Ball” Big Bands of the Swinging Years Song released in 1958. Compilation released in 1971. Jazz / Swing / Big Band

Woody Herman was one of the most prolific jazzmen of the 20th century. A clarinetist and saxophonist at age 12, he picked up the skills to be a blues singer and at age 23 was leading his first band on Decca, one of the 20th century’s most prolific record labels.

In 1939, Herman’s band struck its first hits with “Woodchoppers Ball,” but the success did not come immediately. Decca had to re-release it a number of times before it became a giant smash, eventually selling over five million copies. Perhaps this song was ahead of its time.

But this isn’t the original recording of “Woodchoppers Ball”. No, this recording is from nearly 20 years later, when Herman and the legendary Tito Puente decided to record an album together called Herman’s Heat & Puente’s Beat. But don’t get your hopes up, because Mr. Puente is absent from this particular recording.

However, this is still a masterful piece of big band jazz, better than the original, in my estimation, and around 80 seconds longer, too. With a band that boasts sixteen members(!), Herman and company do a wonderful job of alternating between loud splashes of furious sound and calmer, isolated solos.

The real treat, however, is the final push, when the band builds from just Major Holley’s double bass rhythm and Al Planck’s light piano twinkles to a full roar. The original rhythm that opens the song is reintroduced and gradually, each remaining member passionately reenters the fray, resulting in a breathtaking and powerful wealth of satisfying sound.

One of the greatest big band songs ever made. Astoundingly good.

[eistreter]

Lawbringer, Rain and mud

Thunder growled in the distance, a storm would hit soon. Raindrops are soaked by the dry earth, spending the needed drop of live for the plants. He hadn’t looked back, he didn’t want to, he couldn’t. Thoughts keept spinning in his head, questions that missed a satisfying answer. Who attacked the Royal family, how did they stay unnoticed. One question however, cut through all of the chaos and anger. Everytime when this specific thought came back to the surface, he felt like his guts were torn to shreds. What would happen to the Kings daughter, his beloved girl. Sure, the relationship could never exist forever, but it could have lasted a bit longer.

He shook his head, forcing the chaos out of his mind. Alone, without shelter and support, he had to find a place to stay. No one would open his door for him in this kingdom anymore. He was banished. His only hope could be a left open barn or a kind of traveller with a tent to share.

Slowly the land changed around him. Leaving the flat fields behind, he marched into the deep, dark forrest. The rain created a musical with every raindrop that hit a diffrent leaf. A calming music, played only for him, animals who called this domain their home and a pair of eyes that kept tracking the lawbringer. Everytime when he turned around, feeling that someone was watching him, the eyes disapperd quick enough to go unnoticed. The storm had made its way to the forrest, the spare light was now blocked from dark clouds. The soft rain switched to an endless cascade. Without any break the water found its way down. With every step he took there was a wet, glurping noise when he freed his boot out of the mud.

A twig snapped, that was the first thing that he heard, the second sound came from someone, that clearly wasn’t as heavy as he was. He turned around. A man. Barely twenty years old stood in front of him.

“Step aside boy. I do not wish you any harm.” Growled the lawbringer through his helmet. The boy smirked and pulled an axe from his belt. These kind of axes that woodchoppers used to cut down even the biggest trees. “But I do!” The boy started to circle around him. Patient the lawbringer followed every step, ready to strike down his opponent. “Don’t do something you might regret..” the lawbringer knew, when there would be a fight, this boy would never stand a chance. “You betrayed your oath. There is no one who cares for you now! So I might take my chances as well to get this armor of you and sell it..”

Without warning the boy raised his axe. The first strike was aimed at his head. Without training, without strategy, just a forcefull strike. With a simple step to the left and a hit with the blade of his poleaxe, the lawbringer ended this conflict. Blood dropped from his weapon. The poleaxe weight heavy in his hands. He killed a man who he once swore to protect.

He stood there in shock, disbelief, anger, regret. The rain dropped from his armor, mixing with the blood and mud. He hoped the rain could wash away all of his sins, his memory, but it couldn’t. As he stood there, the eyes appeared again. Watching, lurking, waiting, following every single step.

[whatilistenedtoatwork]

From November 21st to November 25th, 2022

21-11-22

VARIOUS ARTISTS “Dr. Demento Presents The Greatest Novelty Records Of All Time, Vols. 1-5”; LEE PERRY & FRIENDS “Public Jestering”; THE FALL “Extricate”; THE CURE “Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me”; BELLE & SEBASTIAN “The Life Pursuit”; ROY BAILEY “Hard Times”; SUPER FURRY ANIMALS “Out Spaced”; IAN BROWN “Solarized”; XTC “Wasp Star: Apple Venus Volume II”; CAKE “Fashion Nugget”; THE GOODIES “Almost Live At The Cricklewood Rainbow”; JOHNNY CASH “The Sound O Johnny Cash”; LUNASA “The Merry Sisters Of Fate”

22-11-22

NEIL INNES “The Innes Book Of Records”; NEIL INNES & ERIC IDLE “Rutland Times: The Rutland Weekend Songbook”; REM “Lie’s Rich Pageant”; MIKE OLDFIELD “Amarok”; KATE & ANNA McGARRIGLE “Entre La Jeunesse Et La Sagesse”; MAGNETIC FIELDS “Get Lost”; SPARKS “In Outer Space”; PINK FLOYD “Music From The Film ‘More’”; JUNE TABOR & THE OYSTERBAND “Ragged Kingdom”; SHARON SHANNON & THE WOODCHOPPERS “Live In Galway”; THE SELECTER & THE SPECIALS “Live In Concert”; ROBYN HITCHCOCK & THE EGYPTIANS “Respect”; THE JUNGLE BROTHERS “Raw Deluxe”

23-11-22

Couldn’t find my headphones so couldn’t listen to any music L

24-11-22

SIMON & GARFUNKEL “Bridge Over Troubled Water”; ELVIS PRESLEY “The Sun Sessions”; SMASHING PUMPKINS “Melon Collie & The Infinite Sadness”; PIXIES “Doolittle”; THE FALL “Shift-Work”; KANYE WEST “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy”; GUIDED BY VOICES “Live From Austin TX 2004”; MOTORHEAD “No Sleep ‘Til Hammersmith”

25-11-22

THE KINKS “Hippodrome, London, 1974”; IGGY & THE STOOGES “Raw Power”; PINK FLOYD “Wembley, 1974”; WHODINI “Open Sesame”; KATE RUSBY “Make The Light”; WEIRD AL YANKOVIC “Polka Party!”; FOO FIGHTERS “Skin & Bones”; JELLYFISH “Spilt Milk”; CAN “Soon Over Babaluma”

[vinyl-dinosaur]

The 1982 Alternative

Originally posted: Saturday, January 4, 2020

With the unexpected success of Larry Elgart's 1982 album Hooked On Swing over at RCA, Columbia decided to hop on that bandwagon, using the Les and Larry's original tracks set to a beat. Carol Steele was brought in for percussion and the producing team proceeded to tie 17 tracks of classic Elgart tracks together for some non-stop swing dancing. Close to non-stop; we managed to separate the tracks. Some songs have more added snaps or claps than others, but the whole album sounds fresh, a good pressing from a time when records were slowly being replaced by those shiny Compact Discs. Alternate versions of your favorites from what was an odd time for music. Track List: Camelot A String Of Pearls Cherokee Jersey Bounce Cocktails For Two Let A Smile Be Your Umbrella My Heart Belongs To Daddy Girl Watchers Little Brown Jug Opus One Look For The Silver Lining Begin The Beguine One O'Clock Jump Pick Yourself Up Woodchopper's Ball 'Deed I Do The Nearness Of You Skyliner

(NOTE: If you’d like the download link to this record, drop a reply or send an ask and we’ll send it your way!)

[kevindurkiin]

Syd Lawrence

The Big Sound Of Syd Lawrence (1989)

Syd Lawrence – My Favourite Things (3:03) Syd Lawrence – The Very Thought Of You (4:36) Syd Lawrence – I’ll Be Seeing You (3:17) Syd Lawrence – There, I’ve Said It Again (3:07) Syd Lawrence – Georgia On My Mind (2:47) Syd Lawrence – At The Woodchoppers Ball (4:21) Syd Lawrence – The One I Love (Belongs To Somebody Else) (3:19) Syd Lawrence – All My Loving (3:09) Syd Lawrence – How Soon (2:33) Syd Lawrence – Days Of Wine And Roses (3:03) Syd Lawrence – Deep Purple (3:23) Syd Lawrence – One O’Clock Jump (3:26) Syd Lawrence – Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head (3:40) Syd Lawrence – Alfie (3:06) Syd Lawrence – April In Paris (2:57) Syd Lawrence – On The Sunny Side Of The Street (3:17) Syd Lawrence – Jumpin‘ At The Woodside (3:45) Syd Lawrence – As Time Goes By (3:13) Syd Lawrence – By The Time I Get To Phoenix (2:59) Syd Lawrence – Spanish Eyes (2:35) Syd Lawrence – Mood Indigo (3:26)

Syd Lawrence published first on https://soundwizreview.tumblr.com/

[ignaciotries]

COFFEE

Coffee

There’s something mystical in waking up right before the sun shines. The sheets are still cold, it’s incredibly misty outside, and everything seems suspended in a half dreamlike state. You wobble between dream and reality, and gravity seems awfully stronger. The air isn’t stale, but gentle and the breeze sends pleasant tingles down the spine. I exhale heavily and roll covered in bed sheets towards the edge until my face meets wood; a bitter departure but needed if I’m to get out of bed. After long contemplating the cold paneled floor, I glimpse at the window. My exhales fog the cold panes. I push the window open and meet the soft breeze outside. I motion my body forward and rest my arms over the damp wooden frame, while the wisps from a low fog outside slither into my room.

It may not be the place for everyone, but here I behold my own small paradise. The whitish peaks shine a bluish hue against the dark horizon. Long lived pines naturally frame the vista and cover my lonesome cabin in the woods from the harsh winds and brutal temperatures that come rushing down from that sparkly ridge beyond. A ridge I would love to describe even further, but I just slammed onto the floor seconds ago and will need a bit to sharpen my senses; though, it is a good thing that today is for relaxation and mindfulness. Today is for taking my time and enjoying my home; as every timber has been chopped, all the meats carved and cured, and the forest peaceful. It is me, and only me on this slope opposite to man and industry.

I take a break from admiring it all. I don’t want it to get too cold inside before I prepare the fireplace. The logs may get humid. It would be far too eventful now for them to split and crack wildly. I pick the driest logs and let the ember gather strength on its own. I enjoy this simple silence.

But above all, I enjoy something more; more than the books I keep safe and sealed away in the living room chests, or a sharpened hatchet gliding through wood as a knife would butter. Yes. The one thing that I can enjoy the most on mornings such as these is the purest black elixir I can filter after one delicate pour. 

I light the gas and watch snow melt away into sweet water. I bring it to a soft boil and then maintain the pot at a low simmer. The vapors contrast wildly inside as the hot and cold airs spiral into a perpetual dance above. Now comes the best part, I gently let the water stream out as a sparkling waterfall into the dry grinded bits I prepared the day before; perfectly roasted and dried. Fumes rich in aroma and force envelop the room as I pour in concentric circles from the center outwards. And in a minute, I will be experiencing a sunrise of my own.

It is the stark contrast of the season against the remedy of man, both night and day in a cup. Coffee. My cup with Coffee. There are many like it across the world at hours such as these. The salaryman has his expresso; the boys, their americanos; and those who fancy the drink as a sweet and quick “pick me up”, their lattes. But this one, this simple stream of black into a stained ivory cup, is mine. It forever will be. I do not pretend to sound like a braggart, but the difference in resulting hue has been something of an art and lifelong learning experience for me. I have drunk from the frothy mixes of the south, partaken of the rich Caribbean tones, and endured the harsh and uncaring smack of the smooth roast. All of these experiences coalesced into what I hold now. My cup. My coffee.

I place it at a table next to a broad window.

There’s a clearing outside. The peaks are as visible here as from my bedroom, and it seems that a harsh orange glow burns against them from the right. The ever radiant towards the irradiant.

I sit by the table, cup at my left, and I look out and fix my eyes beyond the windows, beyond the clearing, beyond the peaks. I take a small taste and follow it with a small mouthful to warm the senses; a sublime enlightenment in such a small broth. Would it even be right to call it such? No, it is preposterous to call it a broth and continue my early ramblings. I apologize. This is no bean soup; therefore, never will it be a broth. Coffee stands on a world alone. It is apart from others by more than just use and origin. It is a lonesome and tortured soul, that has been filled with bitter sentiment against the world.

A cherry is plucked, its dreams to face the musky earth and give rise to something more destroyed, it is then gutted and left to suffer the morning sun, like the peaks. The peaks shine a softer color now as the spectrum reaches further on its path through the void. 

“The void...” I whisper. 

One would think I would compare it through some convoluted analogy or otherworldly metaphor to the stiff dark of my Coffee, but it would result in more or less the same. It is black because it is greedy. It desires all that it has lost and so picks even the color from air, takes it all till not one is distinguishable from the other. The void doesn’t care for colors. When one stares into space, like an astronaut contemplating their place in it all, it seems black, but not because of color, but the lack of it. Here, color roams freely unhinged and uninhibited. The astronaut is both aware and saddened by it, for to let color free in such an unfathomable space is to see it disappear and leave only darkness, and to catch it all and not let it escape is to also be darkness. Only by freeing it among others is to see light and hues.

And so, it is that Coffee is lonesome, tortured, and greedy, but most of all… bitter. We have taken away enough, and it is that will for fight rather than flight that awakens the body. We have made something suffer for our gain. Good Coffee. I know your pain, so I always treat you with ceremony. I admire you and your spirit.

I take another mouthful.

“So much bull,” I sighed.

All this rambling, all the nonsense, the attempts to veil myself in constant thought, and whimsical allusions are just proof that I’m more of a social creature than what I tell others. I close myself in these fantasy-like rental cabins and spin a distinct narrative every morning. Today I’m a coffee connoisseur, yesterday I was woodchopper, and well, Thursdays… they’re just for building a fort of literature as I tangle myself in their worlds, too; it’s how I get new material for the rest of the week.

“It beats facing reality, at least for now.” 

I push away from the chair, inching towards the window, cup in hand.

“Yet, perhaps that’s what I should aim for,” the view getting a bit ginger, yet not as arrayed in hues anymore. 

“Peaks.” I let out. A peak, a sort of maximum confluence in direction, all roads in my mind converging; something far and above these habitual escapes.

Goal oriented is what they call it. I get it, what sane mind would want to develop a new persona each day? To pour myself into the mold, while suppressing any asphyxiating thought of what I really think I am. Of what I can remember. Constant change inevitably erodes the self and time builds upon the remainder as to fill the gaps.

I look back at the chair, at the table with its sleek mahogany finish, and the kitchen at the back; coffee bean bags rushed open, an unseemly grinder with old bits clumped at the bottom, and the hourglass like shape of my coffee dripper, gifted to me by my sister. Around it all, miscellaneous pots, and utensils, all thrown around the small counter.

I turn back towards the window. Under the thin layer of snow outside, foliage from months ago decompose at a standstill pace.

“I better make another cup.”

I light the gas and watch snow melt again. I just bring it to a boil this time. The vapors contrast wildly inside as the hot and cold airs blah, blah, perpetual, blah, blah, above… yeah. I place the bean bits I roughed up this morning on the filter; perfectly beaten into submission. Fumes rich in wakey-wakey envelop the room as I pour in concentric circles from the center outwards or was it inwards? I’ll just draw a star this time. And in a minute, I hope we can all experience less buffoonery. If this were a short story, then I would be a criminal for robbing the reader from his time. In a story there would be a plot to develop and tensions to rise. I’m just shifting from one end of the room to the other, not much action here.

Perhaps there’s something intrinsically natural to just doing nothing. Not that I would advocate for the world to stop working all at once. The economy would collapse! Sure, a week or two would be alright, but give it a month and production halts, travel ceases, consumerism trickles, and the line at the supermarket, where old ladies philosophize on each other’s day, vanishes completely. Oh! What a chaos that would be.

And the silence.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

I’ve been away too long.

I serve my second cup and walk towards the table, again.

The cup isn’t real ivory, just some fancy facsimile for those that . . . “like to brush shoulders with Norse warriors while gulping barrels of ale after a glorious and visceral skirmish at the gates of Valhalla.” That’s just what’s written on the box. It curves at the bottom making it awkward to drink from. Why would I go to pains to drink something when a simple cylindrical cup would suffice? Is appearance that important for me? Am I vain? I think it is more likely just another tool for escapism, a thing to renounce the typical for the atypical and from it construct a world of my own. But by fulfilling this desire through material objects in order to appeal to a mood or passing fancy is shallow and wasteful. Should I not seek to feel contempt with what I do have, or what I can muster through my own ability or craft? Keeping this cup is just another day in a fit of delusion waiting to happen.

I grab a cup from those provided in the cabin. Pour the coffee from one cup to the new one, a wide brimmed glossy gray cup. I open the windows. The breeze assaults the room. I take a mallet out; toss the faux ivory cup into the air. My grip tightens fast. My feet are parallel to the shoulders.  The hands back, and my left foot forward. My hips burst into motion. My whole torso follows, and away the mallet goes. The cup is obliterated immediately and the projectile bits rain outside like dirt over a coffin. The logs at the fireplace start popping a bit as if cheering me on.

I toss the mallet at the floor, and drop over the seat again, window still open and breeze still rushing in. I drink from the new cup. The logs pop louder as the flames twist the pulp and vapors trapped inside shootout.

I drink from my new cup.

All the confusion tumbling in my head is bound to lead me into exhaustion. I believe that by drinking from that which I described at the start as something so dark and bitter, may help me untangle the weaves of fantasy and delusion I have brought upon myself. Is it not the remedy of man against the season? This seasonal depression I stumble into every night, hoping in the end that I at least manage to see the day again. There are many who go through the same ordeals at hours such as these, but I wish them better than me. I hope they don’t end up attaching their happiness to the availability of a drink, to a drug. I hope that they don’t grow addicted to their escapes. I hope that they return to a less cold and somber place; somewhere they can see and be merry under the light each other reflects upon the other. I never wished to sound so disheartening. I believed that being away from others could help me reshape this mentality.

I used to believe that coffee could help. I still drink it because I have replaced all that I used to know with it. If I drink enough water and eat accordingly, I’m sure to stay fine no matter how much coffee I consume in a day.

Remedies against the season, right?

Remedies of man.

I stare at the cup. It seems I’ve gulped most of it down at some point, made more, and didn’t even notice.

I look back at the kitchen counter; coffee bean bags decomposed, a moldy old grinder, and a broken coffee dripper only able to hold half a cup before it starts seeping through the seams. Around it all, ashes. The fireplace is filled with soot and the walls around it are charred. My books are just tight bundles of dust that collapse at the touch. The cabin has lost its roof and the windows are broken. Snow gathers inside just like outside. The peaks are still there, off in the distance, and I’m still sitting in this chair by the table, cup in hand.

I stroked my old dusty beard and let out a sigh. The low warm exhale dancing gently in front just as vapors did long ago above me. I grow covered in this white dust, but my cup is warm to the touch, my coffee, still bitter, in a stained gray cup.

[starryoak]

The Story Of The Time I Almost Got Shanked By A First Grader (+A Bonus Story About Being Chased With An Axe!)

I am not joking at all. It's a fun story. Some of y'all who are like, my best friends, may have heard this one before, but let's be honest, you can never hear a story this bizarrely macabre too many times. 

I was reminded of this very fun fact by the very awesome @titleknown, who was kind enough to help me reformat this tale after I told it to him, into something actually legible by humans who aren’t me. So anyway, let’s have a round of applause before we gather around the fire to tell the story of ‘the time I got held up at knifepoint by a first grader’.

Before we begin, I have to preface this with the slight correction that it was a metal butterknife; not like a knife made for stabbing or anything, or a steak knife. But I'm on the 'Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves' side of the knife situation. Essentially I stand by the belief that any knife is a bad knife to be stabbed with including dull ones, because; 'It's dull you twit, it'll hurt more'

This was about the general look of the knife... does this look pleasant to be stabbed with?  I didn't end up getting stabbed, but I'm making a point that it wasn't like 'Aww, the kid's using a cafeteria plastic knife' or something, but rather 'This kid smuggled a metal thing into school with the express purpose of holding somebody up with it'... though I would also argue that either way, a kid wanting to use a knife like that is not a good sign.

Now, I assume you have at least one huge question on your mind; why the hell would he want to do this?... Unfortunately, my answer isn't particularly able to explain it

Best I can tell,  he wanted to hold me and my friends up at recess for reasons I don't know. Probably because we were the kind of kids who could get bullied by a first grader, but you know, still doesn't fully explain the point when 'actual real knives' came into the equation.

Essentially, the kid had a jump rope and a knife, and approached me and my fourth grader friends (I was in fifth grade), and since we decided that we would prefer not to be shanked by a tiny child, we instead sat there for the whole recess pretending to be tied up with the jump rope.

Part of what made it both more absurd and somehow even scarier was the fact that he was attempting to tie us up despite not knowing how to tie knots. So instead, we had to sort of let this child with the knife wrap us up with a jump rope and hold it ourselves.

We had to pretend we were completely unable to escape/unable to move because he made threats that implied if we escaped he would totally shank us (not the exacty words he used, but you know), Which was harder than it seems, when you're not sure how much longer you're going to have to hold onto a rope and stay in one place.

So we stayed the whole like, 30 minutes of that recess waiting for it to be over so we could go tell a teacher 'Holy shit this kid brought a fucking knife to school and tried to hold us up'. 30 minutes isn't that long in the scheme of things, but when you're being held up by a stab-happy child, it's an eternity.

To make it even better, he was waving it around and making threats, which sounds funny in concept, but really isn't. In theory; 'Tiny first grader tries to hold up someone with a knife' sounds like the setup for a joke or punchline or something. but it's not exactly as funny when you're being threatened with a knife, butter or not. And especially when you’re not willing to hurt a first grader because you're pretty sure 'but he had a knife' wouldn't have protected you from the consequences of beating up a little kid in self defense.

Now, I'm sure some of you are wondering, and something that people always ask me when I tell this story; Why we didn't beat him up? I have 5 answers as to why we did not, in fact, beat up the small child

1. As I have previously mentioned, we were giant weenies.

2. He had a knife

3. We were pretty sure it would be easier to wait it out

4. Did i mention he had a knife? And that being stabbed with a blunt knife did not sound like a fun time?

5. And anyway, we'd probably get in trouble for hurting the kid because he was a 1st grader and we were 4-5th graders. Even if the kid had a knife, people tend to frown upon punting small children.

I must stress that in any situation where someone else has any form of instrument that could be used to stab me, I would prefer complying rather than get stabbed, regardless of how blunt or sharp the knife is. I do not want to have 'shanked by a first grader' on my tombstone, thank you very much.

And i have to add as a thing,  this kid is the kind of kid who 100% WOULD HAVE actually shanked us had we not complied. He wasn't making idle threats; he totally would have, and we weren’t just assuming that the child was telling the truth.

He had a history with being violent and also liked punching his 'friends' who he treated like lackeys; so basically the kid was a violent little shit with this obsession with being some kind of cowboy or highwayman/robber and he targeted us for a few days before, BAM, knife.

As an addition to this story/a motivation for the 'villain' of this piece, I did figure out a little bit what exactly might have been up with him. Later in the year during the DREADED 'talk' we were taken to the teachers' lounge for the whole.. Stuff. You know, the dreaded sex ed. Skipping that.

Lo and behold, on the fridge of the teachers lounge is, basically like a mixture of a wanted poster and warning sign, is Mr. Shanky McStabberson, as I'll refer to him from now on.. Apparently the kid had congenital analgesia.

Which would have been complete nonsense words to me had the sign not helpfully been very clear;  "Warning: Student Shanky McStabberson is a problem student, keep in mind that hehas congenital analgesia which means he can't feel pain"... Look, I don't know what the exact format was, all I remember is thinking to myself 'oh fuck the kid doesn't know what pain is/feels like'. Which also made it more real that he wouldn't realize exactly how BAD shanking someone would be.

It was an interesting day.

What's especially strange here is that only a year ago I'd been chased with a woodchoppers axe by a girl I called a “friend,”...  so I don't know why the butterknife kid scared me. But I guess the whole 'first grader out for blood' thing caught me way off guard. Nothing can really prepare you for that kind of thing, I suppose.

For the record though, in case anyone is under the impression I hang out with future axe murderers, I was not friends with the axe wielding girl because I wanted to be, it was because she used to bully me. and then one day wanted to be best friends... and she was terrifying enough that I was like 'being friends has to be less scary than being her victim'.

Long story short NO IT'S NOT.

It turned out that her idea of cops and robbers involves weapons (though to be fair we had a rule about like throwing distractions, like, picking up a rock and throwing it so it clinks and distracts the cop... we played a strange version of that game, but it never became a problem before this incident) and her idea of a weapon was stealing my neighbor's woodchopper's axe and... uh, it gets kinda fuzzy.

The memory of the whole game is actually pretty fuzzy up til the point of 'BEING CHASED WITH AN AXE', because that takes up a significant portion of my memory of the events, mainly because... well, being chased with an axe tends to make one focus on the axe. I went inside and decided the game was over because FUCK THAT NOISE.

Essentially 'It's all fun and games until someone pulls out AN AXE’

...you could say I've led a very interesting life for a suburban Californian white chick.