#And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

[ash-alder]

Hey ash, remember that migraines are an Entire Neurological Event, & that you've had one for two and a half weeks.

While it sucks, it is entirely normal for you emotional regulation & mood to be all fucked up. I'm sorry, but we just have to ride it out.

Here, feed, have a story that always makes me sad.

[s-4pphics]

mourn. intro. (e.w.)

INTRO. 

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNINGS: streetracer!ellie, dealer!oc, backstory lemme cook, parental death, mentions of overdoses, funeral, baby ellie :), oc intro… cackles evilly

A/N: last post til eid lol 

pay zakat. feed a family this ramadan. k!ll zios.

SEPTEMBER, 2009

ANGUISH floods Ellie’s chest as she witnesses decorative rosewood being lowered into the sopping dirt. It’s cinematic; watching herself from a bird’s eye view, floating above her own body. Her brain cranks at an alarming rate. Churning in attempts to convince her that she’s not actually here, staring dead at her mother’s casket. The grass sludges beneath her shoes with every unsteady shuffle of her feet. 

There aren't many people around. Three of her mother’s former work friends, a service dog, and the officiant. They’re hardly acknowledging Ellie; no one would be able to stop her from leaping head-first into the ground due to the lowering clouds. Buried and suffocated by grass and mud, a feast for the maggots, but loved eternally. Every cell in Ellie’s body thrums with anxiety. Just when she trusted that her mother’s health was improving, she woke up, shrouded in ice next to a limp body and an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. The same ones her mother took to sleep throughout the night. 

That was three weeks ago. She doesn’t remember calling 911. 

Her best friend — her only friend is gone. And it’s permanent. This isn’t like how her mother used to scavenge the streets until dawn searching for another job before Ellie woke up. She’s not coming back to crawl into their shared, warm bed, sleep for half an hour, then help her get ready for school. No more oatmeal in the mornings. No laughter. No joy. No symmetry. Ellie’s life is forever scattered. Beaten to death until she’s leaking venomous, black blood.

There’s a man that keeps staring at her with pity: familiarity crushes her every time they lock eyes. She kind of remembers him. Somewhat. She almost forgot her shoes before coming here. He seems more upset than her. At least externally; Ellie’s rotting from the inside. 

Her mother’s chamber is completely submerged underneath dirt within the next few hours. The man from earlier is much closer now. 

She jumps when he whispers, 

I owed your mom a favor. 

OCTOBER, 2009

Ellie hates Joel. Hates her mother for leaving her with him. Hates herself for not being able to save her from the claws of addiction. 

Joel’s home is always silent during the day. He gave Ellie the grace of letting her stay home until the Spring, but it’s too quiet. Music never plays and they never talk, and it’s driving her to madness. The silence makes her itch. 

Until the sun sets. 

She already has trouble sleeping. Her insomnia combined with the thunderous clanking that blares from the garage every night is enough to get her sobbing into her pillow until the sun rises the next morning. One night, the noise had gotten so uncontrollably loud that Ellie barged into the garage to shout every curse she recalled her mom screaming into the phone before bedtime.

She didn't expect, however, to see Joel’s legs extended out from underneath her mom’s wrecked ‘57 Chevrolet. Ellie could hear him grunting as cranking and banging of metal took over the space. 

… What are you doing? 

Joel rolls out from beneath the car on a creeper, face confused and smeared with dark sludge. 

Why’re you up? 

It’s loud. She snaps. Why is her car here. 

Joel sighs. Just trying to fix it up. 

For what. Ellie eyes the cracked windshield. She somehow remembers how a rock hit it on the freeway when she was six. Her mom was livid. She can’t drive it anymore. 

Joel’s face twists uncomfortably. It’s almost comical; the seemingly boiling child stands at a whopping four-foot-three with her fists clenched, burning holes through her bright yellow Spongebob pjs. Her glare sharpens when he mumbles, 

Kid… 

So you stole her freaking car? Her eyes swelter, brows hauled downward and hands in fists. He sits up straight, palms up in surrender, wrench in hand. How’d he even get back into their old house?

No, I — He rushes, She asked me to try n’ get it started again. That’s all. I… I shoulda asked you —

Ellie’s not sure why she’s so enraged, but she’s hollering with a pointed index in his direction, berating him, degrading him with sobbed vulgarities. Pushes him hard when he rises to comfort her. Eyes him with so much disdain that he flinches. 

She hates him. She misses her mom. 

The guest room door slammed shut with the click of a lock. She screamed for her mother for hours. Voice shrieking so loud that the neighbors came knocking after the first fifteen minutes. Cops pounded on Joel’s door and proceeded to conduct a wellness check on the household after an hour. 

Their presence made Ellie swallow her scorn. Ellie’s already received a small taste of what it’s like to be in the system. She vowed to never reenter as if her life depended on it. 

NOVEMBER, 2009

Joel made Ellie chocolate chip pancakes for her birthday. 

Breakfast is silent, per usual. Light clinks of utensils on silverware and breathing are the only proof of life in the room. Ellie refuses to touch the squared slices of pineapple. It was her mother’s favorite, despite her complaints of an itchy mouth after every juicy piece. 

Your mom and I… 

Ellie pauses, skeptic eyes connecting with Joel’s. He’s treading light, she can tell. The nerves in his fingers are evident; The sorrow in his eyes suffocates her. Joel’s gaze drops onto his plate at the scrutiny he receives from across the table. 

She’s a good friend of mine, He mutters before his lips turn downward. Was. 

Ellie snorts humorlessly, Way to rub it in. 

Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs, I’m… Sorr—

Were you the one she told? Her tone is sharp. Unforgiving. I heard her on the phone a few days before she did it. 

A storm flurries in the man’s gaze. A familiar one; It’s identical to when she would catch her mother in the middle of night talking to herself with a bottle in her hand. The winds in his pupils take her back to one of the darkest times of Ellie’s life. Maybe they were closer than she assumed. They look identical when they’re guilty. 

I didn’t—

But he did. He’ll never forget being on the other line with Ellie’s mother as she attempted to keep her cries to a minimum. Her croaked wails terrified him. Left wounds in his chest as his heart raced. I can’t do this to her, She’d said, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! … Please… You owe me…

Joel did what he could over the phone. Made promises to her that he couldn’t keep, reaffirmed how much Ellie loved her. How badly she needed her mother, and eventually eased her sobs into pained whimpers. He believed the calmness she exuded prior to ending the call was a sign of understanding of her importance, but it wasn’t. Her mind and body merely accepted her fate. She was dead two mornings after. 

And Ellie was a witness to it all. 

Ellie’s eyes roll and sickness floods her, so she stands, You’re a liar. When you’re ready to tell the truth… You know where I am. She doesn’t bother to push her chair in, clean her dishes, pause at his calls of her name. Her feet stomp through the hallway, marrow searing beneath her skin. The guest room door slams shut and she breaks, guarded by the plainness of the beige walls while tears flow. 

She knows he knew. Why else would her mother leave her with him? 

-

-

- 

When Ellie got up to use the restroom hours later, she nearly tripped over a teddy bear holding a birthday cake. With candles. She’s never received a gift before. 

She doesn’t tell him that she slept for an hour with it hugged to her chest. 

The noises in the garage halt for a week. Ellie still can’t fall asleep. Joel has the same problem, she’s discovered. She finds him sprawled out on the couch one night, burning holes through the roof with a picture frame in his arms. She watches him silently for some time, perched behind the main wall of the hallway. 

Hey. 

Joel’s acknowledgement earns a gasp followed by scuffling, and he snorts. He sits up and sets the dusty frame on the cushion in front of him, noting how awful Ellie is at hiding; It makes him smile. Barely, but he’s endeared; Her entire arm was exposed. He can even see her duck-shaped slippers from where she’s tucked behind the wall. 

Ellie. 

She doesn’t come out, and he sighs. His heart twists painfully when he hears a wet sniffle. He’s up and moving when a guttural sob echoes from the hallway, crouching down in front of Ellie with her knees squeezed into her heaving chest. Joel’s heart cracks at her flushed cheeks drenched in salt. Talking won’t calm her, he knows it, but he’s unsure of what else to do. Ellie… isn’t an emotional kid, but he hushes her, attempts to cradle, apologizes softly. 

But when her wet eyes pinch open, she unravels and falls into him completely. Her arms squeeze around his neck in a deadly grip and she cries and coughs and whines for her mother. Joel holds her just as tightly as she hangs off him. 

We're gonna be fine, sweetheart. He mumbles, and he feels her head shake in denial, tucked in the crook of his neck. His knees wobble, and a soothing hand rises to caress the back of her head; He's never seen a kid this hopeless. It makes him wonder. 

What the hell did she witness in that house? 

Ellie’s always struggled to fall asleep alone. 

Her need to be coddled to dreamland was always a mystery to her mother. Skin-to-skin was a normal trait for infants, toddlers, maybe even a little over, but at age ten? Eleven, and unable to fall asleep without the feeling or knowledge of a loved one present? There was only one time where she recalled her mother carrying her to her own room to rest, but the second the door clicked shut, she was up. Awake. Alert and exposed to harm. Or, at least that’s what she convinced herself. 

She crawled into her mother’s bed minutes later and snoozed throughout the entire night. She didn’t hear the end of it when the sun rose. 

Joel doesn’t berate her, though. 

I can’t sleep by myself, she’d said to him after she calmed from her breakdown in the living room. They’d sat on the couch as he rubbed a comforting palm down her back, her small ones coming up to wipe her wet cheeks. 

How come? 

She scoffed, Scared of the dark, I guess? I dunno. I just can’t. 

Joel hummed in understanding. 

I’m like that, too. Sometimes. 

Ellie snickered wetly, You’re old, though. It’s not the same. 

Joel scoffed and snatched his hand away in mocked hurt. I’m not old! 

The gray hairs say otherwise! 

That night was the first time they ever laughed together. The first time Ellie laughed since her mother’s death, and it carried on until she knocked out beside him on the couch. 

For Joel, though, he couldn’t rest. Not when Ellie favored his daughter that much. Whenever he feels as though he’s progressing, letting go of grief, something life changing — disastrous — forces him right back to square one. Meeting Ellie was one of those moments. He tried to keep his weeping to a minimum as he held her sleeping form, eyes glued to the picture of him hugging his baby after her first soccer win. 

DECEMBER, 2009

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Ellie’s trapped inside the garage with Joel. 

Watching him tweak her mother’s vehicle has aided her raging boredom… To a certain degree. When he starts getting nerdy and raving about car parts, she tunes him out, despite the slight interest she’s taken with underneath the hood. 

The connecting wires, the bolts, the valves and cranks and this manual makes absolutely zero sense—

Can you stop dillydallyin’ around n’ hand me that? 

Ellie’s gobsmacked reading is paused when she passes Joel the manual, dark sludge-covered hands staining the fading paper. She cringes. 

Ellie watches silently as Joel inspects the contents, nodding to himself as his eyes flicker from the vehicle to the booklet, mapping out his next moves of attack. His eyes sparkle and curiosity sparks in her. 

Did you fix it? 

Joel only murmurs to himself, and Ellie’s eyes roll. She inches closer to him and waves a hand in front of his eyes. Hellooo? Is it gonna start? 

… I think so, kid. His head shakes in disbelief, If I can get that transmission replaced, it might be alright. 

Ellie’s brows furrow… What on earth is a transmission? 

I’ve been workin’ on cars for a while. I can tell you now that finding such an essential part for a model this old is gonna be tough. Might cost me an arm n’ leg. 

Ellie shrugs, You’ll figure it out, old man. 

He stares down at her blankly, Gee, thanks. Hand me that wrench, assistant. 

Ellie mocks glee on her skip to the rolling cart, Gosh golly dang, does this mean I’m hired? 

He jokingly snatches the tool from her extended hand. Little bugger. And just like that, you’re not gettin’ paid. How’s it feel to be outta funds? 

WAAAAAAA—

Ellie’s fake wails earn her a deep holler. 

Ellie oversees Joel until the clock strikes twelve, following his line of vision on every rusted compartment of the vehicle. Stood attentively at his side as he pointed out the carefully crafted machinery, listing their parts despite Ellie’s protest of forgetfulness. There are so many names for everything; Building cars seems so complicated, but curiosity sparks in her. She starts to think: maybe cars aren’t so boring. 

Another sleepless night for the both of them; Might as well commit to movie night. Fireworks are still going off in the small neighborhood hours later. The booming colors in the sky makes Joel's teeth grind. Reminds him of the time he took Sarah to Santa Monica Pier. 

Joel? 

Mhm? 

… What favor did you owe my mom? 

Thickness builds in his throat the second Ellie mentions her. He sets the large bowl of chocolate-doused popcorn onto the coffee table, reaching for the remote to turn the movie down. Not off, down. Ellie hates feeling like she’s being scolded. 

Joel doesn’t look at her, but her eyes are glued on the side of his face. 

Umm… He scratches his face, Did your mom ever mention me to you? Ellie denies with a hum. 

Joel’s mind whirs back to the first time he met Anna: sophomore year. He was exhausted, drained, barely making it, but despite being miserable, he still cared deeply for his education. He studied until his eyes burned, jotted down notes until his hand cramped and the librarian was gently urging him to head home. 

She… We were friends in college. He fonds, We met at an ice cream truck. 

Weird. Ellie notes causally, She hates dairy. 

… Yeah. She does. Joel coughs to mask the brokenness in his voice. 

Anna was… a genius, to put it lightly. Academically gifted to an intimidating degree. Her mind was a camera; She’d scan one excerpt from the thickest novel once and still manage to repeat it word for word years later. They had comms together; Her voice sounded like tweeting birds whenever she recited her prepared speech like it was nothing. She was an emotional speaker, entranced everyone in the room, and always ended with a question that forced students and professors to self-reflect. Joel wouldn’t call it a crush… Merely admiration. Envy. He was motivated whenever he left comms. 

He’ll never forget the image of her, sweating and worn, carrying what seemed like a twenty-pound backpack — all stuffed with calculus books — while ordering a can of Sprite from the humming, beaten down truck. Anna didn’t leave after the vendor handed her the soft drink. She simply turned to Joel, inspected him from head to toe, and turned back to the vendor. 

I’ll cover whatever he gets, too. With a thumb aimed at him. He nearly choked. 

A free snow cone couldn’t halt the racing in his chest. 

I know what you are. 

What, He questioned without a stutter. 

You fix cars? Anna quirked a brow at him. Joel’s brows pull downward. How did she know that? He’s fixed one car since he’s been enrolled. His buddy pulled up in front of his dorm asking for a windshield repair. But he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. I dunno. 

The green-eyed girl scoffs and sips from her nearly emptied can. 

You down to replace a tire? Some jackass thought it would be funny to leave a rusty nail in our parking lot. 

Our. She must have roommates… or lives where he does, he thinks. For how much? Not a beat missed. 

Her shoulders lift, I dunno. How much does a tire cost? 

Depends on the model. What d’you drive?

A chevy. Don’t ask the year, I’m not sure. It was a hand-me-down. 

A slight pause between them before Anna suggests with a sigh,

Come see ‘er. 

-

-

-

Thar she blows. 

Joel can’t help but snicker at the woman in front of him, posing right next to her teetered vehicle. It’s quite charismatic; the bright pink bumper stickers, the crisp turquoise paint job, the slight scratch on the trunk. It’s nice. Classically vintage; it suits her. 

A beauty, he notes with his eyes locked onto Anna’s. She gives a hum in agreement. 

Revive her, if ya don’t mind. I’m desperate and can’t sue, so. Joel nods and inspects the damage on her tire. The air is nearly fully gone, and it’s making her drive slump. 

Tire shouldn’t be more than thirty-five… Gonna have to head home for some stuff. Willing to wait an hour? When he turns to her, they’re shoulder to shoulder. 

Anna smirks, Whatever you need, mechanic. 

My dad, Joel corrects, He taught me the basics when I was like… twelve. 

Her voice lowers, Good on him… Earned me a discount, eh? A hand claps down on his shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze, and he revs to life. 

He swears the tips of his ears are red hot, Sure… minus that deposit. I needa twenty for emotional damages. 

Fuck off. Her eyes are soft, Might never go to the shop again. You’re officially my car fixer-upper. Fuck these grease-balls n’ their price spikes. 

Joel snorts, You get into that many goddamn accidents? 

She leans in closer, and his throat closes. Slams shut. Turns to dust. 

You’ll find out, mechanic.

That’s why you’re spending so much time on it, Ellie notes at Joel’s retelling before a harsh gasp escapes her. Dude, were you in love with my mom or somethin’?

The man stutters and coughs, No — what? I told you she was a frien—

Ellie snickers with a judgmental point, Yeaaah, yeaaah, I know how these things go. You sucker! 

What the hell — I’m not a sucker… And what things—

Anna and Joeeel sitting in a tree! — 

A pillow smacks Ellie dead in the face, and she topples over in cackles. Joel rubs deep in his temples. Ellie would’ve loved Sarah. Two little bullies who feast on his suffering. 

No more storytelling. I’m going to bed. 

You can’t! Remember? Ellie hollers as tears fall from her eyes. She coos at Joel when he lifts himself off the couch and down the hall, trying to mask his small smile. 

Aww! C’mon, old man, it was a joke! 

I can’t wait for you to go back to school, ya vermin! 

-

-

-

An exhausted Ellie creeps into Joel’s room half an hour later. She sighs in relief when she doesn’t hear snoring. Her mom was the worst when she was tired. She tiptoes across the carpeted floors until she’s in front of the unoccupied side of the mattress, stealthily adjusting the blankets and pulling back the sheets. 

She slowly manages to tuck herself in, fixing the pillows so her head rests on the cold side of the case, exhaling happily at the warmth defrosting her limbs. 

The second she dozed off, she yanked to consciousness by raspy sarcasm. Her eyes roll underneath her lids.

You can’t, either. Joel croaks, Remember?

JANUARY, 2010

Five days until school. Five days until misery. Five days until… strangers. Ellie’s skin crawls whenever she thinks about being an enclosed space with snot-nosed boys and soggy lunches. 

And math… Gross. 

Joel has been more than willing to postpone Ellie’s enrollment whenever she becomes anxious, but she always denies his requests. She’s grown to like Joel, but… he’s not the best teacher, especially social studies. Reviewing one of her old packets nearly gave him an aneurysm. She can’t afford to be homeschooled by him. 

What's been the best distraction from her impending doom? 

Binge watching Cars for the billionth time… And helping Joel patch up that blue Chevy. 

They celebrated their first victory last night for repairs, at least: Joel stuck and twisted the key to start up the engine, and it managed to stutter to life. For less than five seconds. The headlights barely came on and an old Foreigner record broke through the crackly speaker. They rejoiced with the brightest smiles as their hands slapped the dashboard before the vehicle crashed out once more. 

A glimmer of hope. A chance for reconnection. Anna’s sending them messages. The joy in that car shifted to grievance; Joel had to cradle Ellie in his lap as she wept into his shoulder. 

But there’s hope. Ellie wanted nothing more than to get this car working after that. Duty calls, though, and the alarm’s coming from a backpack. 

You got this, kid. Stop stressin’. 

Ellie, without a doubt in her mind, does not got this. 

Screaming children, muddy slides, bloody band aids; they’re all on the other side of that office door. Her worst nightmare has come to life, and she desires nothing more than to hide out in her mom’s car forever. The bag strapped around her shoulders matches the weight of a body. She refuses to let go of Joel’s hand as he speaks with the giggly receptionist who’s too happy to see him (what the hell), but it's okay; he’s holding hers just as tightly. Just as paranoid, apparently. 

She’ll be with Mrs. Lawson for the remainder of the year. Ellie hears the receptionist say over her pounding heart, She’s incredible! I’m sure they'll develop an amazing bond. 

Ellie’s palms are sweltering. Joel must feel it because his thumb nuzzles into her wrist. She’s not built for this. Maybe returning so soon wasn’t a great idea. She can’t do this without her mom. 

Cool backpack, Spidey, is said from behind her, and she stiffens instantly. 

She has a Spider-man backpack. 

Hush. An older man’s voice replies. Sounds strained. Stressed, but he only receives a light snicker from her in return. 

Ellie watches with squinted eyes as a young girl gets escorted towards the front of the office by… the principal, she assumes? He seems fancy in his suit slacks. 

You stay right here until I get your uncle on the phone, The suited man is stern towards the girl, who plops down on one of the waiting chairs. Backpack and all, You can explain to him how you swore at a teacher. I’m not dealing with this from you today. 

M’kay, Mr. Harris. 

Ellie observes the entire scene indiscreetly. Her stares are obvious, glued to the clearly agitated dean who stomps into his office. 

Where’d you get your backpack? 

Ellie’s stunned at your sudden whisper. She shocks herself when she quietly stutters,

Um… Walmart? 

You smile, I like it. I want one. 

Ellie simply nods, but gets paused before she can redirect her attention to Joel. 

Are you new? Your voice grows quieter when you look over your shoulder. Right at the principal’s door. I am, too. I just moved schools. 

This shocks the brunette. The new year just started, and you're already locked in the office with evidently angry staff. 

Yeah… I’m new. 

Something in your grin shifts. Ellie’s nails lock into Joel’s hand. … Interesting— 

Young lady! Did Mr. Harris give you permission to speak? 

You audibly ponder like the attendance clerk asked you to solve a riddle. 

No, ma’am. I apologize. 

Then hush. Not another word. 

Ellie watches you fold your hands politely, twiddling your thumbs. Your eyes don’t leave her backpack. 

Ready, kiddo? 

Her eyes finally reconnect with Joel’s, encouraging and chocolate, and she nods. He guides her to the office exit where her new life resides. Before their departure, she can’t help but take one last respectful glance over her shoulder. She finds you staring with a quirked lip and your wrist outstretched like your shooting spider webs at her. Ellie jerks her head forward and releases the breath she’s been holding. 

What a weirdo. 

tagggiiiiessss :3: @inf3ct3dd @fleshunger @sawaagyapong @elliesbitchh @aouiaa @elliesatchel @williamellieslilho @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @myluvforstarz

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 10 - Masquerade

Word count: 5,570. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Takes place during the events of Episode 4 of Season 1. TW, canon typical language, recreational drug use, abusive power dynamics, mentions of past domestic abuse and rape - not involving Alastor, a tiny bit of light fluffy smut.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 10 - Masquerade

Present Day

Pentagram City

Mina tossed and turned in the early hours of the morning before dawn, when the night was at its blackest. She was overheating and repeatedly kicked off all the blankets, only for her skin to crawl with the lack of anything touching it, so she would wrap the sheets around her again, arms around her torso and tail around her legs, until she would break out in another sweat and start the process over again.

When she finally sat up, fully awake, feeling the wet ache between her legs, she knew her body was coming into heat.

In the early morning darkness, she counted the past months on her fingertips and sighed. It was spring. At least this was just the first one and would likely only last a day before the one next month when it would hit her in full swing. Three cycles in the spring and one in the autumn. The worst one was always the one in the fall, but that was still months away.

And for the first time in years, she wasn’t alone.

Mina turned to Alastor’s side of the bed, which was still made up neatly and cold to the touch. He hadn’t come to bed last night but that was expected. She had never known him to be the type to sleep every night and he had slept long and soundly next to her just two nights prior.

It was still at least an hour before the other hotel guests woke up, and then they would keep his attention all morning and likely through the afternoon. Mina knew she would most likely have to wait until that evening to jump him but the dull cramping in her belly needed sating now.

She took care of herself, quickly and quietly, letting her mind wander to the wicked things she would ask him to do to her later.

Afterwards, clear headed and slightly more comfortable, she went and took a cold shower.

Things were far from perfect between them. In fact, internally, Mina was struggling more than ever to keep faith that Alastor would eventually come clean to her about why he had left for all those years. But at least they had their physical intimacy to lean on now. They were back to sharing a bedroom and making love again and in those short moments of privacy between them, it was easy to forget the pain he had caused her.

The first time had been the very same night he had found out about her getting shot.

He had come back upstairs a couple hours after leaving her to take a bath and get some rest, finding her under the covers and reading, and offered her food and an apology.

“Chicken noodle soup?” she asked with a raised brow as she set her book down on the nightstand and took the bowl he was offering.

“Charlie made it, not me,” he said, and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “Vaggie told her you weren’t well and she insisted I bring this to you.”

It looked and smelled as bland as unseasoned potatoes and Mina set the bowl on top of her discarded book.

“I’m sure she made it with love,” she said.

“I can bring you something else,” he offered.

“I’d rather just have you,” she said, remembering how their morning had begun, tangled up in their sheets together, before he had abruptly pulled away from her.

“I’ve been a jackass all day,” he said seriously, his brows pinching in confusion at her flirtatious behavior.

She laughed a little.

“Yes, you have,” she said, sitting up and pulling her legs free from the covers. “You’re always a bit of a bastard when you’re upset.” She moved until she was straddling his lap. “And you were upset because you care.” She had her hands on his shoulders for balance but then laced her fingers around the back of his head.

His own hands moved slowly up and down her back.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he said and burrowed his face in the crook of her neck. “Not after everything . . .”

He didn’t finish the sentence. She had to bite back her anger at that. He still wasn’t saying nearly enough, even if it seemed like he wanted to. Mina just didn’t understand. She sighed, letting it go.

He had promised her she would understand eventually, she just had to keep holding tightly to that bit of hope.

“You’re not going to lose me, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, grabbing a hold of an antler and gently pulling it until he brought his face up to look at her. “Are you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

They had made love then and it was like their first time all over again. His cock had filled her up so beautifully, his body so warm, strong, and tender above hers. When she orgasmed, it was like coming home. And the way he nearly lost control towards the end, his antlers growing and body morphing just a bit bigger than normal, told her he had missed this, too. He whispered words of love and praise into her neck after spilling his seed in her as his body relaxed, the static and emotion thick in his voice.

In the morning, she woke up to him naked and barely covered in sheets next to her, his red tail laying almost decoratively across his ass. She had been instantly hungry for him all over again and they went slower then, really taking the time to explore and reacquaint each other with their bodies.

They were so in love. It had been enough to fool Mina into thinking that their return to perfect bliss was right around the corner. When they were together like that, it felt almost silly to be angry about anything. In those moments, nothing could be clearer than the fact that they belonged together and that nothing could ever drive them apart.

Alastor was really good at that.

Any time she started to question him too much about things, showed any signs of irritation with him, he would find a way to distract her. Between helping Charlie run the hotel and keeping his wife placated, Alastor was a busy man these days. Whether or not he shared a bed with her the night before, he always made sure to have coffee and breakfast with her before getting wrapped up in the days events and if at any point they had an argument, he would make himself scarce for a few hours, just to return as sweet and apologetic as ever.

And despite the fact that he had hardly given her more than a hug and a kiss in the first two weeks of his return, they were suddenly making love a lot. In their bed, in the shower, in his radio tower. He even gave her an intense quicky in the small library that Sir Pentious had once tried to hide a camera in . . . in the middle of the day. Anyone could have walked in, and it was a risk her usually put together husband wouldn’t normally take. It almost made her wonder if he wasn’t in some kind of out of season rut but then he had gone back to acting completely normal afterwards.

Mina reflected on all of this as she cooled her overheated hormonal body down under the shower’s water and started to become confused and upset.

Was he gaslighting her?

Was he using the fact that she was touch starved and relieved that he was alive and well – all of which was his fucking fault – against her?

She had really thought that if she started doing as he asked, playing along with whatever his game with the hotel was; that if she allowed herself to just be happy that he was back and with her, that Alastor would eventually start telling her more about this huge secret he was keeping from her.

But it had been weeks – months ­­­– now since he came back and although she was upholding her part; playing the supportive, happy wife, he hadn’t given her anything besides sex in return for it.

Mina had even lost her job over it all. She had nothing now. Nothing except him, and this stupid fucking hotel, with its stupid pointless mission of redemption, and he wouldn’t even tell her why they were here. The people here, people who thought they were her friends, didn’t even really know her, did they? Not like her friends from The Pit or Cannibal Town. They didn’t know what she had been through, would judge her if they really knew what she was capable of, wouldn’t be able to deal with her through the worst of her moods. She couldn’t even tell Charlie what she did for a living when she first came to the hotel because if she were occasionally murdering souls, then it would go against Charlie’s mission to save those poor, wretched things.

Mina angrily slammed the knob of the water off and marched out of the shower.

She felt isolated, angry, hurt, and frustratingly still horny.

Forget whatever was in the cards for the day.

She needed to find Alastor, get him to fuck her hard for a couple hours, and then scream at him until he finally gave her some God damned answers.

Once she got dressed and had searched every possible room in the hotel for him though, it became apparent there was one small hole in her plan for the day.

Alastor was nowhere to be found.

____

Charlie assured Mina that she had sent him off on an errand first thing that morning but that he would be back momentarily.

Mina felt ready to rip her own hair out.

She knew she was being pissy but was far beyond the ability to care. Charlie had to send him away on this morning of all mornings?! Her only real outlet for her pent-up energy when she was in heat was either sex or violence, and if she wasn’t going to get either of those for the next few hours, she needed drugs.

Before Niffty could rope her into helping cook breakfast, Mina disappeared back upstairs and banged on Angel’s door.

He opened it, rubbing his eyes, clearly having slept in.

“I need downers,” Mina said, rudely pushing herself under his two left arms and into his room.

“G’morning to you, kittens. How may I be of service?” he said sarcastically.

“Aren’t you listening? I need drugs.”

“Whoa, honey. What’s got your panties all in a twist?” he said, and placed one of his hands to his chest while dramatically lifting his chin. “I am a clean, pure, innocent soul. I would never desecrate my body, my temple, these holiest of holes with something as disgraceful as-“

“What is this?” Mina said, interrupted his monologue, and holding up a packet of white powder that she quickly found in the first drawer she opened.

“Crack,” he answered, deflating. “Look, pussy cat, downers ain’t really my thing.”

“Not even weed?” she asked, feeling like she might cry. Why the fuck hadn’t she prepared better for this?

“Oh baby, yeah, how do you think I sleep at night?” he said, reaching into another drawer and handing her a joint. “I just figured you were looking for something stronger. Might I suggest Xanax, Heroin, Fentanyl, Numbutal-“

“I’m more of a liquor and opium kind of girl when I need something that strong. No, this will do nicely, thank you Angel, you’re a lifesaver.”

She held the joint between her lips and held up her thumb to the end, waiting for the flame to appear.

Nothing.

What the hell?

She shook her thumb and tried again.

Nothing.

That bloody bastard.

Abadon had taken her fire away. Completely. They had probably done it when they healed her shoulder and left her just enough power to portal away so she wouldn’t be suspicious.

 “OH FUCKIN’ HELL!” she half screamed, half growled, and started to cry.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Angel held all four of his hands up, completely caught off guard by the tantrum she was throwing in his room and not understanding at all what was causing it. “Hey, I ain’t cut out for this womanly shit, could ya please calm the fuck down?”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do here, ya daft spider!” she cried, pressing her palms to her eyes to try and force the tears to stop, the unlit joint hanging sadly from between her fingers. “Please?” she asked, in a frustrated whimper, “do you have a light, too?”

“Yeah, toots, whatever you need,” he said, cautiously handing her a lighter. “Jeeze, don’t you have a man for these kinds of things?”

“I don’t know where he is!” she bit back; teeth clamped tightly over the joint as she lit it. She took a long, deep drag in, holding it in for several seconds, before she tilted her head back and exhaled.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to calm herself down as she waited for the effects of the marijuana to hit her system. She wiped away the tears that had fallen in her outburst, blushing with embarrassment. “I woke up in heat this morning and he’s just fucking left off to somewhere. And I’m . . . well, I’m not the most mentally stable person on a good day, so I can be quite difficult when I’m like this. Especially if I don’t . . .”

“Get a good dick or some hard drugs inside you?” Angel teased.

“Or get to kill something,” she said, taking another hit.

She ended up smoking the entire joint herself and when she was still visibly tense, Angel shared a second one with her.

They went downstairs, earning themselves a glare from Vaggie when she caught a whiff of them, but Mina locked eyes with her and the shorter woman backed down before she started in with a lecture.

They still weren’t exactly friends yet, but they had a mutual respect for one another that was building towards that, and Vaggie had already got a glimpse of the kind of frantic mood Mina was in that morning, so she let the drug use slide without ratting them out to Charlie.

Mina wasn’t even visibly high. She was just far less jittery and slightly more pleasant to be around. Now she was sulking, because not only was she feeling neglected by her husband, but her oldest friend had betrayed her, and she had missed out on breakfast.

The morning only got worse when she was subjected to Charlie’s new idea for a bonding activity – show and tell.

She made the smart choice of sitting at the bar with Husk so that her view of the television set was limited during Angel’s turn. The sound effects were disturbing enough.

For a short moment, she actually found herself enjoying the activity when Husker started going off about everyone’s insecurities, until he called her out as well.

“Mina lashes out at everyone she cares about, so she can hurt them before they hurt her,” he said, before turning to Niffty. “And Niffty, you don’t even wanna know what her deal is.”

“And you like to blame everyone else for all your problems, rather than accept the consequences of your own actions,” she bit back, earning a pissed off glare from Husk.

Angel started laughing.

“Wow, the kittens have claws out this morning!” he said, and pulled Husker in as if to kiss him. “Meeeoooow.”

She snorted a laugh, knowing that kind of attention would only bother Husk more and watched as he reacted as she predicted.

The two were putting on quite a show for everyone that morning with their back-and-forth insults until Angel’s phone went off and he attempted to nonchalantly leave for work.

Mina reluctantly stood up from her place at the bar and went over with Vaggie to talk Charlie down as she lamented over the halt in the day’s activities.

“Maybe you could command a little more authority?” Vaggie offered.

“That is terrible advice,” Mina said.

Vaggie glared at her before turning back to Charlie.

“And so meeaaaaan,” the princess whined.

“It’s not mean, exactly. It’s aggressive kindness.”

“Um, no-“ Mina tried but Charlie was already jumping up from the ground.

“Okay! I could be so ‘aggressively kind’ to Angel’s boss that I convince him to let Angel spend more time at the hotel!”

“No! No, you will not, that will not work. At all,” Mina said walking over and grabbing Charlie by the shoulders, trying to talk sense into her.

“Oh, sure it will. Like I said, she’s the Princess of Hell. And I believe in her,” Vaggie said.

“You don’t know Valentino,” Mina snapped at her and then looked imploringly at Charlie, speaking softer. “There’s a difference between believing in someone and setting them up for failure. Do. Not. Go. There.” she said, emphasizing each word with a shake of Charlie’s shoulders. “Please, Charlie. Trust me on this, I know these Overlords, you won’t talk sense into them.”

“Maybe it’s never worked because no one has ever asked him nicely before!” Charlie said and Mina groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She was going to need another hit of something to get her through this.

“Fine, I give up. Go ‘command’, or whatever you think you’re going to do, Princess,” she sighed and walked away. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

___

Mina had really tried to be a better person that day.

She took as many drugs as she had to, to get her body to behave, so she could be polite to the other residents, and they still insisted on fighting with each other.

She had tried to stop Charlie from going to Valentino’s, offered her sound advice, and had been ignored.

She had tried waiting patiently for Alastor to come back from his ‘quick errand’ and hours later, he was still nowhere to be seen. Why he refused to carry a cell phone was beyond her. She had one, and she was an older soul than he was, even if by only a few years. Even Abaddon and Lucifer had phones for crying out loud.

She had been doing what he asked, and letting him know where she was going and with whom anytime she left the hotel, and he – the one who had gone missing without a trace for several fucking years – didn’t think he should have to return the favor?

Fuck him.

Fuck everyone here.

Fuck this whole hotel.

She sat at Husker’s bar, nursing a whiskey, and smoking a cigarette.

Angel wasn’t back yet either, which was probably Charlie’s fault for making things worse, so his bedroom door was locked and all her other options for downers were locked away as well.

At least the liquor kept her from ripping everyone’s heads off and the nicotine kept her hands from shaking too badly.

“Mina?” Charlie’s voice asked shyly from behind her, “maybe you could find somewhere else to smoke that?”

“Why?” she responded coldly, “not like anyone here can die from lung cancer.”

“Well, still,” Charlie said, and Mina turned around and looked at the solemn Princess. She had her arms around herself, looking more down and insecure than ever. Valentino must have really put her in her place. Whatever, Mina thought, she deserves it. “It can’t be good for you,” Charlie finished.

Mina laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “And you would know what unhealthy lungs feel like, right love? You know what it feels like to cough up a mouthful of blood and still not be able to take in enough air?”

“Leave her alone,” Husk said. “The kid’s just trying to be nice.”

“No, she’s right, Husk,” Charlie said, “I-I’m sorry. You’re an adult. And this . . . this is a bar, after all. It’s what it’s here for.”

Mina nodded and took another drag of her cigarette.

“Don’t mind her being a bitch,” Husker said, looking at Charlie. “She’s just in a bad mood because Alastor’s not back yet. She wants to make her failed marriage everyone else’s problem.”

Mina threw her glass at Husker’s head, watching it shatter with satisfaction.

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK!” he said, blood dripping down the side of his face but the cut she had made was already closing. Too bad, he still retained some of his powers from being an Overlord and could heal quicker than most.

“Shut up and poor me another,” she huffed.

Charlie sat there, mortified and wide eyed, as Husker did exactly as he was told.

“Maybe one of you should go cool off somewhere,” she tried to offer.

“Not a chance. I need this” she said, lifting up her new glass of whiskey, lightly shaking it in front of Charlie’s face, “and he needs to remember his place. Do his job and not insult the wife of his boss, ‘failed marriage’ or not.”

Husker stayed silent as he swept up the shattered remains of the glass off the floor.

“Mina, your marriage isn’t a failure,” Charlie said softly. “Alastor will be back any minute. And you two still love each other. Whatever is going on, you’ll get through this. You’ve seemed so happy lately.”

“Glad everyone else can see how happy I’ve been besides myself,” Mina sniped and downed her glass.

She was behaving abhorrently. She knew it enough to feel guilty but then the guilt just made her angrier. It was a vicious cycle of emotions that she couldn’t even fully blame on being in heat; being mean made her feel good. It was probably the core reason why she ended up in Hell.

Vaggie came over and Mina rolled her eyes, knowing things were just about to get worse.

“Look, I get being worried,” she said, making it obvious she had been eavesdropping. “You two are . . . ah . . . different, okay? Your guys’ relationship is your own business. But, I know what it’s like to stress about someone you care about,” Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and gave her a sickly sweet lovestruck look, “But Alastor can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s just been busy today and will come back any minute now, safe and sound.”

“You think I’m worried about him?” Mina asked. “Oh, no, I’m fucking furious with the man.”

“Look, I’m the one that asked him to leave this morning,” Charlie started in. “If you want to blame anyone, you can blame me.”

“What an amazing martyr you would make,” Mina said, “but tell me, did you ask him to go on a short errand when he was gone for seven years?”

“No, but-“

“Then stay out of it,” Mina snapped.

“He’s probably just doing something to help the hotel-“

Mina held up her hand and Charlie stopped talking.

“Look at you two,” she said, gesturing with her cigarette between Charlie and Vaggie. “Young love. And it’s the real thing. What you have, it’ll last. It’s pure and strong, the kind of love anyone can see when they look at you. And neither of you can even imagine hurting the other one, yeah? If you yell at her, it’s like fire in your throat. The thought of her being hurt, it’s like a knife stuck in your ribs. The fear and pain of just the thought of her leaving you; you can’t breathe or think. You would never ever do anything to betray her, right? And you’re so confident that she feels the same about you. The very idea of an affair is laughable and what’s a worse betrayal than that? But just give it time. One of you will do something the other one couldn’t even fathom. Not another woman, not abuse, but something that will tear you to shreds, nonetheless. And on that day, come talk to me. Until then?” Mina took a final drag of her cigarette and then stamped it out on the naked wood of the bar. “Learn to mind your own fucking business.”

She got up and left, leaving a stunned Charlie, Vaggie, and even Husk silent in her wake.

___

Alastor was having a fantastic day.

Actually . . . it was pretty awful.

Everything was taking much longer than expected. It was tedious, and he would have to carefully explain away his absence for the entire day . . . or not. Charlie had so much planned for the day he doubted anyone really noticed he was gone. Still, the day had been frustrating, and he felt that now familiar feeling of invisible strings yanking him around a stage, making him do things he didn’t care to do, and keeping him from where he wanted to be.

What was fantastic about it was the brevity of it all.

It was over in just a few hours and rather than remaining alone, forced to be separated from his home and his heart, he got to return to the hotel and his wife.

Things had been just lovely between them lately. It was better than Heaven. Mina had been soft and sweet with him these last several weeks. Although it was clear she was still terribly curious about where he had been, she seemed to be slowly letting it go and just enjoying the fact that they were together again. It made him giddy as a teenage boy to have her back, to regain some control over his life again, and he clung tightly to that shred of happiness they had rekindled in each other.

He almost stopped and got her a bottle of wine and flowers, just to smooth over any transgressions she might feel over him being gone all day, but then decided it would just delay his return more. Better to just get back as soon as possible. And if he really needed to, he would summon whatever items he needed to later.

Alastor walked confidently through the doors of the hotel, whistling a happy tune.

He stopped short when he noticed a rather pathetic version of Vaggie sitting alone in the lobby, shuffling through television stations.

“And where is everyone on this fine evening?” he asked, striding over to her.

“Angel took off, Husk is out looking for him, Charlie is upstairs trying to work out a way to do damage control for tomorrow, I honestly don’t know where Pentious and Niffty are, and your wife-“ she took her eyes off the T.V. screen and gave him a pitying look “-is upstairs plotting your murder.”

“Ah, she has not taken my absence well today, has she?” he asked, glancing up at the staircase.

“Yeah,” she said with a laugh, “you could say that again. Where have you been, exactly?"

“Oh, I’ve been a busy little bee,” Alastor said, tapping her on the head with his microphone, before walking towards the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll all see the fruits of my labor, soon enough.”

He melted into shadow and drifted along the walls and out of sight.

“So fucking creepy,” Vaggie muttered to herself.

___

Mina was just throwing on her leather jacket when she felt rather than saw Alastor appear behind her.

He had his arms around her, and his mouth to her neck, before she could spin around.

“My, my, don’t you look delectable,” he said, taking a loud breath in and biting her softly right beneath her jawline as he exhaled.

She hesitated, for just a second, her body craving his touch too much for her not to. But she was so blindly angry that even the throbbing between her legs couldn’t win over her fury.

“Don’t touch me,” she said and stepped away from him.

“Mina, please allow me to explain,” he said, assuming she was just upset that he had been gone all day without explanation, unaware of the depth of her hormonal fury at him.

“You know what? I don’t even care right now,” she said, turning to face him once she had put some distance between them. “And I wouldn’t believe a damn word that came out of your mouth, anyway, so don’t bother.”

“And where are you going?” he asked, with a politeness that was hardly believable.

“Out. I called some old friends and we’re going out,” she said, holding up her cellphone as if he had never seen one before. “Some people have these, you know.” She pocketed the device in the back of her jeans. “I need to kill something after the day I’ve had, no thanks to you.”

“My darling, I really don’t care for the idea of you going out and looking for trouble. Not after what happened last time.”

“Well, if I get in trouble, I’ll call someone. Let them know where I am. Don’t worry love, I’ll be back before seven years comes and goes.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is all about.”

“It’s what everything is about! You left me. Spin it however you want, Al. You left me. And you’re a bloody damn fool if you think being sweet and throwing a few fucks my way is going to make me just forget that if you won’t even try to tell me why.”

“I am trying,” he said darkly.

The lights flickered in the room for a moment, but Mina just scoffed and turned around.

“You’re the worst husband I’ve ever had.”

He moved right behind her as she put her hand on the doorknob of their room, grabbing her and spinning her to face him.

“I’m the worst?” he said, his eyes black with fury and hurt. “What I’ve done is the equivalent to beating and raping you?”

“No,” Mina said sadly, watching the shadows crawl up the walls of their room, beginning to darken everything around them. “No, what you did was worse. Because I didn’t love him. He could only hurt my body. But you, you broke my heart, so you’re far worse.”

His grip on her shoulders lessened but the room only grew darker.

“Don’t say that to me,” he said, his voice quiet but far less human than normal.

She shoved him off, and he stepped away from her and into the room, but his shadow came off the wall to her side and pulled her deeper into the room as well.

Alastor was keeping his distance but also keeping her from the door.

“Take it back,” he said.

“Tell me why you left me,” she countered. “Then maybe I will.”

“I’ve already told you a thousand times, I can’t.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you can’t? You really expect me to believe that, love? You? You always do exactly what you want to do, so if you wanted to tell me, you would. It’s not like you made a fucking deal over it.”

As soon as she said the words, she knew it.

The look on his face gave him away more than anything he could ever admit out loud.

“No,” she whispered, watching the shadows retreat from the walls. She shook her head, “No.”

“Mina, please-“

“Tell me you didn’t,” she said.

A heartbeat went by.

“I can’t.”

And a heartbeat later, hers shattered.

“You sold your soul?” Her voice was so small, her throat so tight she could barely speak. This was the worst thing she could imagine. She hadn’t even been able to imagine it, it had just been a throwaway insult. Alastor, her Alastor, would never do that.

He didn’t answer.

“Alastor,” she said, and went to him then, putting gentle hands on either side of his face. “Please. Just tell me yes or no.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

“I can’t.”

She stepped away from him like he’d slapped her.

“When?”

Silence was his only response.

“How could you?” she hissed. “We’re married. That’s supposed to mean something, even to you.”

“It does,” he said, reaching for her. “It means everything.”

She took another step away.

“It means nothing now! We’re supposed to belong to each other! Husband and wife, that was our deal, you’re supposed to me mine as much as I am yours.”

“I am,” he said desperately. “Please, Mina. I am still yours.”

She was crying now, she felt the hot tears going down her cheeks, but they were silent. She was too stunned to sob yet.

Alastor stepped towards her again and this time she didn’t move away. She closed her eyes as his fingers, sharply clawed and capable of such violence, gently stroked her cheeks and brushed away her tears. He kissed her forehead, between her eyes, and then her lips.

“I am all yours,” he said.

“How can you be?” she said back, looking into his red eyes, seeing the devastated look on his own face, and felt her world fall away. “How can you be mine if you gave yourself to another?”

She stepped slowly away from him, further into the room. The door was behind him, but it wasn’t her only exit and she no longer cared if he knew.

“I hope it was worth it,” she said, and stepped backwards into the fiery portal she had opened.

She watched it close shut in front of her before he even got halfway to her.

Next Chapter ->

@saccharine-nectarine, @inuhalfdemon

[hsjazebel]

THE CALL OF FATE

Word count: 3184

A/n: I'm so sorry to have made you wait so long for the second part of ink hearts, but I've been busy studying and counting the days until the exams are over.

Summary: Y/n returns to the “Ink Hearts” shop for her first tattoo.

main masterlist | ink hearts masterlist

The light of dawn filters through the ivory silk curtains of Y/n's sumptuous family home, delicately caressing the antique furniture and period ornaments that adorn the rooms.

The enveloping scent of jasmine and amber wafts through the air, mixing with the distant sound of bronze bells swinging gently in the internal courtyard.

Yet, despite the beauty and opulence that surrounded the villa, Y/n's soul was filled with a palpable agitation, a sort of restlessness that had haunted her ever since she woke up.

The imposing walls and refined decorations seemed to imprison her soul in a golden cage, isolating her from the outside world and from her own inner essence.

Her thoughts were imprisoned by the memory of her meeting with the tattoo artist in the "Ink Hearts" shop, like fragments of a dream that slowly dissolved when she woke up.

The figure of the tattoo artist, shrouded in an aura of mystery and charm, stood out clearly in Y/n's mind, with his penetrating green eyes that burned like burning embers in the darkness of the night and the hard gaze that seemed to pierce the armor that had built around his heart.

Every detail of the encounter unfolded in her mind like a vivid and haunting painting: the monotonous sound of the tattoo artist's hum, the intense scent of ink and soap, the firm touch of his deft hands as he traced the outlines of the design on his skin.

Yet beyond the surface of skin and ink, there was something deeper and more enigmatic that trapped her in her invisible web.

As Y/n gazed at her reflection in the golden mirror of her bedroom, her towering walls seemed to beckon her with a quiet whisper.

The family mansion, with its sumptuous rooms and ornate corridors, was both a golden refuge and a golden prison, where Y/n felt trapped between her family's expectations and the rebellious desires of her own heart.

The memory of meeting the tattoo artist in the "Ink Hearts" shop tormented her like an obsessive melody that she couldn't get out of her head.

The image of that man with the mysterious gaze and skilled hands had crept into her mind like an obsession, reawakening desires and emotions that she believed were buried deep in her soul.

The morning wind delicately caressed the petals of the flowers in the villa's garden, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring.

As Y/n approached the window, the warmth of the spring sun caressed her face, contrasting with the cold inside that consumed her.

The days following the meeting with the tattoo artist had passed in the shadows of her thoughts, while the image of that mysterious man danced in the recesses of her mind.

The family home, despite its sumptuous beauty, increasingly seemed like a foreign and oppressive place, where social conventions suffocated any glimmer of authenticity.

Yet, despite the weight of her family's expectations, Y/n felt the irresistible pull of the "Ink Hearts" store. It was as if an invisible force was pushing her towards that place of mystery and forbidden promise, a calling that resonated deep within her soul and that she could not ignore.

Every night, while the rest of the world slept, Y/n found herself immersed in her thoughts, tormented by the memory of her encounter with the tattoo artist.

His hands trembled with excitement and fear at the idea of ​​returning to the tattoo shop, but she knew she could no longer resist the pull of the fate that had brought them together.

With a heart full of hope and uncertainty, Y/n mentally prepared herself for returning to the "Ink Hearts" store, knowing that what she would find there would forever change the course of her existence.

——

The "Ink Hearts" shop exuded a mystical and enveloping atmosphere, permeated with the persistent smell of ink and the monotonous melody of tattoo machines.

The walls were decorated with bright artwork and intricate designs, while soft light filtered through the windows, casting shadows on the time-worn wooden floor.

In the heart of the shop, the tattoo artist stood intent on his work, his deft hands dancing expertly across a living palette of skin and ink.

His dark hair fell softly over his broad shoulders, while his focused gaze reflected the determination of an artist immersed in his work.

As Y/n crossed the threshold of the store, a feeling of excitement mixed with fear wrapped around her like a cloak. Her eyes immediately fell on the tattoo artist, attracted by her magnetic presence and aura of mystery.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she slowly approached the counter, unsure of how to start the conversation.

The tattoo artist looked up from his work, his green eyes shining with an intensity that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

A thin smile danced on his lips as he looked at the young woman in front of him, aware of the disturbance he aroused in her.

“Here again,” the tattoo artist said in a deep, enveloping voice, breaking the silence enveloping the shop. “What brings you to the ink realm this time?”

The tattoo artist's words resonated in the tense air, revealing a world of hidden meanings and unexpressed desires.

As Y/n tried to find the words to respond, she realized that this second meeting would only be the beginning of an even deeper journey into the depths of their souls.

The tattoo artist continued working without looking up again, but the heavy atmosphere between them was palpable. Y/n felt rejected and helpless, but she knew that she had to face her contempt if she wanted to find out more about him.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/n asked, trying to break the ice.

The tattoo artist made a sound of disapproval before replying curtly, "Depends on what."

Y/n felt a lump in her throat, but she persevered. "I'd like to know more about your tattoos," she said, her voice shaking. "And maybe about you."

The tattoo artist looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and irritation, but then shook his head slightly. "It's none of your business," he replied dryly, returning to his work without giving her anything else.

Y/n felt rejected, but she couldn't suppress the fire of her curiosity. She had to keep digging, even though she knew the tattoo artist wouldn't make it any easier.

Y/n was silent for a moment, feeling the weight of the tattoo artist's words like a boulder on her chest.

It was clear that her presence was unwelcome, but she couldn't let her disdain stop her. She had to find out more about him, even if it meant facing her coldness.

The tattoo artist, after a long moment of silence, let out a heavy sigh.

"My tattoos have stories to tell," he said finally, the tone of his voice soft but full of meaning. “But they are stories they are not ready to share.”

Y/n felt a shiver of emotion run through her as the tattoo artist spoke. It was as if she had just opened a door to a world of mystery and fascination, and she couldn't resist entering it.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a light smile, ignoring her evasive response. "I can wait."

The tattoo artist looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration, as if he hadn't foreseen her response. Then, with a nod, he returned to his work, letting the tense atmosphere resolve itself into the silence of the shop.

Y/n found herself surrounded by intricate designs and works of art that captured attention with their dark beauty. The vivid colors and finely delineated details seemed to dance under the soft light, creating an aura of magic and promise.

As she explored the store with curious eyes, Y/n felt transported to a world of infinite possibilities. Every drawing, every tattoo told a unique story, a fragment of life captured in the eternity of ink. It was as if each feature had a voice of its own, whispering ancient secrets and hidden desires.

Then, suddenly, the tattoo artist stopped in his work, looking up at her with an intensity that struck her straight to the heart. His green eyes shone with a bright light, revealing a vibrant and magnetic energy that immediately attracted Y/n's attention.

It was as if the tattoo artist possessed a magical power, capable of hypnotizing her with just a glance.

“I have an idea,” the tattoo artist said, his voice soft but filled with infectious determination. “It would be interesting if you were the subject of my next tattoo.”

The tattoo artist's words rang through the air like a promise of adventure and discovery. Y/n felt a wave of conflicting emotions hit her as her heart pounded in her chest.

The tattoo artist approached with a determined step, his penetrating gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver. "What do you say?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

Y/n felt her breath catch in her lungs as she struggled to find the right words. It was as if the world had stopped around them, as they found themselves in the center of an atmosphere full of promise and possibility.

With a deep breath, Y/n met the tattoo artist's gaze with determination. "I'd like that," she said in a firm voice, letting her smile reflect her inner excitement.

The tattoo artist didn't smile, but his green eyes sparkled with an aura of promise. "Are you ready for an adventure in the kingdom of ink?" he asked with a challenging tone, as if he were proposing a trip to an enchanted place.

Y/n nodded, feeling a shiver of excitement run over her skin. She was ready to completely abandon herself to the magic of tattooing and the mysterious charm of the tattoo artist.

With an enigmatic smile, the tattoo artist led her towards his studio, where every corner exuded an atmosphere of creativity and mystery.

The air was filled with the scent of incense and fresh ink, while the walls were adorned with sketches of drawings and works of art in progress.

Once inside, the tattoo artist got to work with skill and mastery, preparing his tools with obsessive care.

Y/n felt enveloped by her vibrant energy, as if she had been catapulted into another world, a realm where ink and art reigned supreme.

The tattoo artist smiled at her, her expression neutral but full of promise and possibility. "What kind of tattoo do you have in mind?" he asked in a soft but firm voice, inviting Y/n to express her wishes.

Y/n took a moment to think, looking at the numerous drawings and artworks that decorated the study. "Something symbolic," she said finally, "something that represents my search for freedom and authenticity."

The tattoo artist nodded in understanding. "I understand," he said in a calm tone. “It will be an honor to make your vision a reality.”

With that promise behind them the tattoo artist began his work with a light but firm touch, as if he were painting a masterpiece on a blank canvas.

Y/n closed her eyes and gave herself over completely to the sensation, letting the ink seep into her skin like a wave of heat.

Each needle she plunged seemed to transport her to another dimension, far from the worries of her daily life.

Her sensations mixed together in a whirlwind of emotions: there was pain, sure, but also a strange euphoria that made her forget everything else.

Every little puncture seemed to open a hole in her being, releasing dormant emotions and hidden desires.

As the tattoo artist worked expertly, Y/n felt enveloped in a feeling of calm and serenity.

There was no room for fear or uncertainty, only the pure pleasure of being alive and experiencing that moment to its fullest intensity.

The minutes seemed to pass by like nothing, as her tattoo took shape on her skin like an indelible sign of her determination and courage.

Every stroke, every line of hers seemed to tell her story, etched in the ink like an ode to her life and her experiences.

And so, as the tattoo artist finished his work with a final touch of mastery, Y/n opened her eyes and found herself faced with a living masterpiece, a tattoo that represented everything that was her and everything that she hoped to become.

The tattoo took shape on Y/n's skin like a delicate and refined work of art, a discreet symbol of her desire for freedom and authenticity.

At the center of the design, a simple lotus flower bloomed, its delicate, wispy petals standing gracefully against her skin.

The flower was a symbol of rebirth and growth, a promise of new beginnings and infinite possibilities.

Around the flower, a series of thin lines and light arabesques intertwined like threads of a canvas, creating an atmosphere of lightness and elegance.

Every detail of the drawing seemed to tell a different story, a story of hope and courage.

The tattoo glowed with a subtle light, as if it had captured a sliver of magic in her black ink.

It was a work of art that Y/n would carry with her forever, a tangible symbol of her journey to freedom and authenticity.

After completing the tattoo, Y/n observed herself in the mirror, letting her gaze run along the delicate and refined lines of the design on her skin.

The blooming lotus flower stood out gracefully against her complexion, exuding a sense of calm and serenity that enveloped her like a caress.

The tumultuous emotions she had felt during the tattoo seemed to dissolve, giving way to a feeling of lightness and determination. That little design on her skin was much more than just an ornament; it was a tangible symbol of her desire for freedom and authenticity, a promise she had made to herself to embrace life with courage and resolve.

The tattoo artist approached silently, observing the finished work with an expression of satisfaction. "It's perfect," she said in a calm voice, but there was something in his eyes that suggested a deeper understanding of the words he spoke. “Carry it with you like an amulet, a constant reminder of your inner journey.”

Y/n nodded, feeling lighter and more determined than before.

That tattoo would be her traveling companion, a beacon of hope and strength as she faced the challenges that awaited her along the way.

But before leaving, the tattoo artist took a moment to look at her carefully. “Would you let me ask you your name?” he asked, the tone of her voice compelling, as if he too had been struck by a sudden curiosity. "This is the second time I've seen you here, and yet I don't know what to call you."

Y/n felt a shiver of emotion run over her skin. It was the first time the tattoo artist had shown personal interest in her, and it made her heart beat faster than she did. With a shy smile, she replied, “My name is Y/n.”

The tattoo artist smiled, and her subtle grimace made his green eyes sparkle. “Y/n,” he repeated, as if he was tasting the sound of her name. "Nice to meet you."

With that brief but meaningful interaction, Y/n suddenly felt moved to ask something about him in turn. "And you?" she asked, the tone of her voice uncertain but determined. "What's your name?"

The tattoo artist smiled again, but this time it was different, more intense, as if that gesture hid a story all her own. "My name is Harry," he said finally, letting his name fill the space between them with an aura of sudden intimacy. “It was nice meeting you too, Y/n.”

After exchanging names, a slight silence fell between them, uncertain and expectant. Y/n felt a little embarrassed for neglecting such a basic formality. "Sorry," she said, blushing slightly. "I haven't paid for the tattoo yet. How much do I owe you?"

Harry watched her carefully, his piercing gaze seemed to peer into Y/n's soul. "Don't worry about it yet," he said finally, the tone of her voice calm but still slightly grumpy. "I'd rather you take some time to appreciate the tattoo before you think about money. When you're ready, you can come back to see me."

A shiver ran down Y/n's spine. There was something indefinable in Harry's attitude, a shadow of mystery that intrigued and frightened her at the same time. "Thank you," she said sincerely, surprised by his generosity. “I will definitely appreciate your work even more knowing there is a kind soul behind it.”

Harry nodded, a hint of a thin smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad I could help," he said simply. "And now, go out there and show the world your new tattoo. I'm sure it will turn a lot of heads."

With a bright smile, Y/n turned towards the door, but she couldn't help the uneasy feeling buzzing through her mind.

There was something sinister and unsettling about the atmosphere of the tattoo artist's studio, a dark sense of presence that made her shiver. She had found more than just a tattoo artist; she had found an enigma wrapped in an aura of mystery.

As Y/n walked out of the study, she felt a chill run down her spine, as if someone was watching her in the dark. She turned instinctively, but she saw nothing behind her except the emptiness of empty corridors. However, her sense of uneasiness persisted, enveloping her like an ominous shadow.

Determined not to panic, she forced herself to push those dark thoughts from her mind as she crossed the crowded street. However, she couldn't help but feel a sense of impatience and unease growing within her, as if something dark and sinister was following her from afar.

Having reached the safety of her house, Y/n tried to push those disturbing thoughts out of her mind, focusing her attention on the newly created tattoo. But no matter how hard she tried to ignore those unpleasant sensations in her, she couldn't get rid of the sense of dark presence that had enveloped her in the tattoo artist's office.

As the evening deepened, Y/n found herself facing the darkness with a feeling of apprehension that was entirely new to her. There were mysteries surrounding her, unanswered questions burning inside her. Who really was that enigmatic tattoo artist? And what was she hiding behind her subtle smile and those penetrating eyes?

With a sigh, she Y/n got ready for the night, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to escape her disturbing thoughts of her easily. There was more to the world than her eyes could see, and that sense of mystery was dragging her deeper and deeper into an abyss of dark and dangerous secrets.

Tag list: @ell0ra-br3kk3r

[angelettecloud10]

💜Yandere Azul Ashengrotto Idea💜

Ok After Watching The Little Mermaid (Classic Ver.) I remember Ursula Disguises herself as Vanessa to trick Eric that she saved him from drowning and who sang for him when he woke up after being unconscious

Then Poses to Marry Eric to Prevent Ariel from succeeding the Spell to be Human

Now here's an Idea:

Yandere Azul Ashengrotto x Fem. MC x Prince Rielle (The Little Mermaid/Merman AU)

Prince Rielle Longed to join the Surface World and Bond with the Humans Above the Ocean of Twisted Wonderland

That is until he get's Offered to Attend RSA as a Student along with his Friends (Twst ver. Of the Disney Princess) although His Father (King Triton) doesn't fully agree to this and in Frustration Rielle swims off to the Surface there He Meets MC on a Small Cruise Ship with her Fellow NRC friends having a Spring Break Party (Kinda Like how Eric was Celebrating his Birthday but this is the First Day of Spring and perfect for a Cruise Party)

With the Young Prince now curious of the Female Student he wanted to learn more about her (or as you can say it was Love at First Sight) and what would it be like to be Part of Her World.

Unfortunately Someone on the Other Hand has taken interest in the Female Prefect . . . Azul Ashengrotto . . . he sought to make MC his Promised but Notices Rielle Snooping in that case gave Azul the very key for his plan to achieve

During the Party a Great Storm Emerged and Ruined the Celebration, MC nearly put her Life on the Line to save her Friends that is Until She had to Go back and save her Furry Grey Companion, Grim from being Trapped in the Flames. After Successfully saving Grim, The Boat's Supply of Fireworks was set off with MC still on the Ship exploded leaving the Survivng Students on the Life Boats in Shocked

Rielle feeling the need to do something he had to save her from Drowning

As the Dawn rose yet the sky filled with soft grey clouds, Rielle brought MC back to shore not leaving her side worried that she might not wake up, but faintly he could hear her Breathing and a Sigh of relief escaped from Rielle mouth as he then was enchated by MC's Beauty as she lays Unconscious and he then Sings his new Dream to be Part of Her World

The Group then Later finds MC on Shore, relieved as they can be the First Years Tackled MC in a Tight hug Happy that she was Ok. MC then starts to Say how there was a Boy who Saved her and how He Sang so Beautifully. The Bois thought she was Imagining things or being Delusional or she probably Drank too much Sea Water (Lol)

Except for Azul who knew exactly What MC was Referring to . . . which gave him an Idea for a Boy who always had an eye for a Bargain

To Make this Short, Azul then had Rielle visit the Monstro Lounge to make a Deal with him. Helping Him to Turn into a Human to both to Attend RSA and Meet the Female Prefect only for 3 Days but Can Succeed if He Kisses her through True Love. If she Doesn't Kiss her then He Turns Back to a Merman and be trapped in the Monstro Lounge as a Fish in a Tank Serving the Entertainment as a Decoration (& Azul will have MC all to Himself). Payment would be for Rielle to Give up his Voice and rely on other ideas to communicate with MC and his Friends in RSA

As Rielle enjoys his Time at RSA making New Friends and Meeting MC and visiting The Village to Bond more they both Almost Kissed (Kiss the Girl Scene) but Unfortunately failed after being knocked over from the Leech Twins who followed them to prevent Rielle from Succeeding. Leaving Azul to take matters into his own hands and using Rielle's Voice and a Disguises himself (Like Vanessa but a Male ver. Brown Hair, Purple Amethyst Eyes, and his Seashell Necklace that holds Rielle's voice).

His Name would be Victor 💜

MC Standing outside of Ramshackle late at Night hoping that she wasn't mistaken that a Boy really did save her, considered the Lighter Side of the Whole Experience and Considers her feelings for Rielle and decides to Sleep on it and meet with him in the Morning.

But then Hears a Voice Singing exactly the same as the One who saved her from Drowning she then looks around and sees a Figure standing close to the Lake near Ramshackle. His Hair Softly Flows in the Night Breeze as he slowly Looks back at MC making Eye Contact with his Piercing Amethyst Eyes as he Sings and a Golden Hue Glows Brightly in the Night entrancing MC in a Spell

Soooo There's that & I Hope someone Writes a Story about this Idea & I give full permission to use this Idea as long you Credit me

Thanks For Reading and I hope you Enjoyed!!🐚💜

[i-ate-a-crayon-lol]

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

By Sara Teasdale (1920)

[junemermaid]

[NiF fic snippet]

so in order to unblock myself on my first NiF WIP I started another NiF WIP, surely nothing can go wrong here

post-canon, everyone lives au, ot3 agenda in full swing. unofficially titled one beautiful morning, Lin Shu woke to find the Son of Heaven at his door.

-

The gate to the yard is open. He is under no illusion that he's been let this close unobserved, but he ties his horses next to the watering trough by the gate, and goes in.

The path to the house is paved with smooth stones. Somewhere out of sight, chickens cluck and flutter, and a pigeon coos mournfully. A woman emerges from the house: a trim, solid figure in the shade of the veranda.

"Husband," she calls over her shoulder, "the messenger is here! I'll see him in."

She comes into the sunlight, and he chokes on nothing but the sight of her. Her garb is simple, unlike the rich silks she would wear to court, but the years sit lightly upon her shoulders; the spring in her step is as supple as ever. While her hair is tied low in the sedate fashion of a married woman, it still falls down her back thick and dark as a stroke of good ink.

Last time he saw her, she knelt to him at a private audience and asked for his leave to marry. Her betrothed, his dearest friend, their childhood companion, had lived through the battles in the north. A miraculous recovery, some claimed. The skill of his doctor, she asserted.

She brought the news knowing it would be a sword through his heart, and still she was right when she said, I did not want you to hear this from anyone else. I hope you will forgive me someday, Your Majesty.

There's nothing to forgive, Princess, he told her, half-strangled by hurt and relief and breathtaking love. He is alive. How can I not be glad?

With an aching smile and another obeisance, she left with his imperial permission to wed the jianghu scholar Su Zhe.

Here, in the sunlit yard, it takes her a few paces to understand he isn't coming to meet her or offering a greeting, like the courier she's mistaken him for would. Her brow furrows—there are lines there he does not remember, either—and slowly, her hand goes to her mouth.

He watches her war with herself, swamped in her astonishment. Her gaze swims with the same tangled things that shoot up into his own mind, splintering the lull of the ride.

If she says Your Majesty now, he—he does not know. He will crumple and fall. He journeyed for a month to be here, and there, the plan ends.

"Xiao Jingyan," Mu Nihuang whispers through her trembling fingers. "What are you—how in the name of—"

Should he bow, he thinks, wild, unmoored—kneel in the sand of the yard like a lord of yore, come to entreat a sage hidden in the hills?

Mu Nihuang is no sage, or even a wife to one. But she was once the Princess-Marshal of Yunnan. She's rarely met a hurdle she did not try to vault head-on.

"Stay there," she says, as if he would move for all treasures in the empire. She rounds on her heel to shout back into the house, "Beloved husband! Perhaps you'd care to explain why the Son of Heaven, His Imperial Majesty, may he reign for ten thousand years, is standing in my yard?"

There is a loud clatter from inside. His heart jolts in echo: beloved husband. The tint of fondness in her annoyance. This peaceful, prosperous house, the veranda freshly sanded, the jasmine in bloom, like dawn clouds perched on the boughs.

What is he doing? As if compelled by the same question, Nihuang looks him up and down: travel-stained, dishevelled, half-mad with purpose and yearning.

"I'm not that anymore," he says, rough with disuse. The horses do not make for great conversationalists. "I left, Nihuang. I stepped down."

tbc

[bracketsoffear]

There Will Come Soft Rains (Ray Bradbury) "I was feeling torn between submitting the original 1920 poem by Sara Teasdale or Bradbury's short story, but since the poem gets recited midway through the latter, I suppose submitting the short story is killing two birds with one stone.

It tells about the continued goings-on of an automated house. The house goes about its programmed tasks, such as making breakfast and cleaning, sustaining its own processes for days at a time. As the story goes on it becomes clear that a nuclear war destroyed all of the humans. The house runs continuously until it succumbs to decay; no one will ever live in it again.

Teasdale's poem is about how life will continue even after we wipe ourselves out, to which Bradbury's story answers "Not if we destroy everything along with us". The only living thing during the whole story is the family's dog, returning home to desperately search for the people it loves before realizing no one is there, after which it finally succumbs to radiation sickness and starvation and dies. The only thing Humanity has left behind in its wake is our advanced technology, and even that eventually dies out as well.

"And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.""

Ozymandias (Percy Bysshe Shelley) "

All about the hubris of man and the inevitable collapse of all that we have built."

[prncssie]

caution! mdni 5k wrdz, general fluff and normal relationship stuff, brief smut at the bottom, fingering, hobie x oc

miffy's note! this is a commission that i worked really hard on. it is for one person and one person only so enjoy it or don't! as long as she's happy I'm happy! @peachdem

it’s late, or is it early? it’s hard to tell as the birds begin to chirp and the moon begins to dip in the horizon. unbeknownst to eden, the sun begins to take it’s place. the skyline, however, is strategically blocked by the curtains that bend and flow with the wind from the ceiling fan.

eden likes to tell herself that it’s fine. it’s normal, really. tons of people stay up all night with their nose deep in a textbook and typing for hours at their computer. she doesn’t really have much of a choice, considering the amount of assignments due within the next few days and for some, hours. this has always been her life. in between the missions saving citizens on other earths and returning confused villains back to their dimension, eden is just a student.

just a girl with a deadline and a degree to get her hands on.

the digital clock stationed on the cream colored desktop to her right reads 5:44 in gleaming blue numbers. it’s definitely not the most ideal time to be taking on those missing assignments but eden doesn’t conform to such silly concepts as time. who’s going to tell her when she could and couldn’t be awake? and to make her point, eden took the liberty of taking a long afternoon nap and not because she had fallen behind sleep as well, using the satisfaction of completing a job to compensate for her other needs.

eden licks her slightly gnawed lips. she’ll nibble on them, just for a moment, before tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. the feeling of her skin folding keeps her grounded, gives her mind something miniscule to focus on in the background. she releases a breath and continues to scribble jumbled notes on the screen of her ipad, ignoring the chill that’s beginning to spread across her skin.

spring time brings sunny weather, warm during the day but cool during the night. cool enough to make the comforter a perfect shield from the chill. especially when eden’s typical pjs this time of year is a loose oversized shirt and a pair of panties. it’s snuggly wrapped around her shoulders, just until she gets too hot and brushes it to the back of the chair.

she brushes a loose strand of hair out her face. it hangs from the bohemian twists, adorned in shiny, gold hair jewelry. the scrunchy she haphazardly used to tie them back was beginning to slip and succumb to the weight of gravity.

never again will eden put off assignments last minute to go on a mission she wasn’t even originally assigned to. all to hang out with her friends. the death of a girl, really.

the sudden draft from the window comes as a surprise, albeit a welcomed one. it followed a couple raps on the glass before a lengthy frame welcomed its way into her space. “e, what’cha doin’? just wake up?”

the accent is thick and familiar. british and very obviously hobie. the only one who would slip into eden’s room through the fire escape just as dawn is beginning to crack. he’s also the only one who would walk up to her and peer over her head, tongue clicking at the sight of the two toned website, full of paragraphs of paragraphs of information he couldn’t give a shit about.

“you woke up to do this? y’know, i get you value your education but this is a bit much, innit’? this early in the mornin’?” hobie, while removing parts of his spiderman suit, plops down on the tan sheets of his girl’s bed. 

“i haven’t slept yet, hobie. literally mind your business.” it doesn’t come out quite as lighthearted as she meant it, but deep down eden is serious. she’s unnerved and short tempered, having been staring right at the blue light filter of her electronics for hours.

the only breaks she’s been taking would be to stretch her arms over her head for a delicious pop or a few minutes to tinkle. the barely functioning part of her brain wasn’t in the mood to hear hobie’s opinion in her choice to spend her night.

“what do you mean you haven’t slept yet? at all? tonight?” the clatter of hobie’s boots vibrate through the floor when he drops them with little care for where they land. he’s more focused on the insanity of eden’s statement. “what are you pullin’ an all nighter for?”

eden’s eyes fall closed. she wasn’t mad at him, merely irritated with the situation she finds herself in. it’s completely her fault and that’s the worst part. it takes every ounce of her being not to direct her emotions to the wrong place, hence why eden has to swallow a breath before casting a glance over her shoulder. “because i have to play catch up. i didn’t do any of the essay work last week and i missed yesterday. i was supposed to meet up with my group to work on that presentation. remember? i told you about it that day we went to your earth.”

hobie pauses his ministrations. he’s shirtless now, resting back on his hands and tilting his head. the hair on his head bends with him, only weighing him down further to his left. “okay? what does that have to do with you not sleepin’? did you sleep earlier or what? have you eaten anythin’? you’re not tellin’ me enough.”

eden musters up the patience to consider her words, closing her eyes and taking in a breath. it feels her lungs to the very brim before she lets it go. her chest falls, following the release and she turns around to look of her shoulder at him.

“because i’m busy. i just told you i’m trying to catch up. i slept earlier and i’ve been snacking on granola and nuts and stuff. all the study girls say it’s great brain food.” she waves him off to turn back to her work.

“when i say this i'm not callin’ you stupid because y’know i’d never say such a thing about you, but that sounds so stupid. it sounds like a scam to keep people from takin’ care of themselves and you fell for it.” the shuffling of fabrics is a sign hobie has picked up removing the lycra red suit.

he stands and pads his way over to the dresser, fingers ghosting over the many leafy green plants operating as decor. even they had a perk that eden currently lacked, glowing with health. “how far are you with that, anyway? think you can spare a few minutes?”

“a few minutes for what?” her brown eyes cut towards him in a side glance. eden can’t hide her curiosity under an exterior of focusness. his suggestion must entail for silliness. it’s hobie of all people. she’s thrown off at the sight of him half naked and pulling a white shirt over his head.

he finishes his outfit with dark wash cargo pants and leans against the dresser’s surface, ruffling his hair in the mirror. “for me, obviously. you need a break, love. you’re gonna run yourself thin. how long have you been at this?”

hobie discards his place to take a position closer to eden. his hands rest on her shoulders, massaging the muscles tenderly. “i found this place on the way over that i think you’d love. we can watch the sunset, get some real food in you, and relax. you can come right back to modern day slavery, later.”

“modern day slavery is insane,” says eden as she looks over her shoulder with a soft smile. the twists cascading down her back bunch and jumble over her collar. “craziest thing i’ve heard you say, today.” eden welcomes hobie’s presence by taking his hand and pressing her lips into his palm.

“gotta start sayin’ somethin’ more wild, then. that wasn’t that bad.” his demeanor softs. the usual sharp angles in his face have become rounded in a grin, white teeth gleaming at her affection. “you comin’ or not?”

she just sighs in faux annoyance and slides out of her chair. “oh my gosh, okay. i try to be nice to you and you rush me.” eden huffs her way over to put on some real clothes. she makes a big show of it, flinging tops around and purposefully hitting hobie with a few until she becomes settled on what she deems good enough. 

her mild tantrum doesn’t go unnoticed. instead, hobie ignores it, head tilted in adoration. he’s completely and utterly infatuated, admiring how the silhouette of her frame bends when she tugs the brown jeans over her hips.

“we’re goin’ to go sit in dirt, you know that right?” hobie chuckles as he watches her get dressed. his gaze falls to her bed and eyes the stuffed animals almost neatly lined up along her pillow. some of them have toppled over, victims to hobie sitting on her bed and moving about carelessly. “that one’s new.” his head nods towards a cow, black grin sewn into a little line both welcoming and slightly creepy. “what’s their name?”

eden has to follow his eyes to her bed, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. the new addition to her plush friends has been around for so long, she’s forgotten hobie hasn’t properly been introduced. “matcha.” she turns away momentarily to pull a shirt of the hanger. “like the tea. the color reminded me of it.”

hobie eyes the frog for a second longer. the more seconds that tick by, the longer matcha’s black beady eyes taunt hobie and he snorts. “yeah? it’s cute.” and a little bit scary.

“just like you,” eden seals her compliment with an obnoxious wink and a kiss, all from across the room in the comfort of her closet. it draws a rich chuckle from his throat and her heart flutters at the sound. “anyway, tell me about the spot you found.”

hobie claims her previous seat at the desk, a low hum vibrating through his chest. he rests one of his arms on the armrest to hold his head up, legs open in a manspread. “what’d you want me to say? i was swingin’ and saw somethin’ i think you’d like. it’s secluded and quiet. won’t have to worry about someone interrupting.”

his eyes glaze over, shining with affection. hobie can’t help but look at her as if she’s crafted the world herself. to him, she did.

hobie’s been a street kid for as long as he can remember. his success in getting off the streets and moving into a houseboat can solely be credited to the small success of his band and his method in saving money, stealing whatever he could get his hands on. he was lucky enough to meet eden and become a part of her family and in turn, she became a part of his.

it’s not like eden is particularly oblivious, either. she just does her best to ignore his looks by busying herself with other tasks. this time, eden is quelling the storm of butterflies in her stomach by pulling a cardigan over her shoulders. “oh, so you’re so in love with me, you were thinking about me on your way over here.”

“e . . ., just forget i said anythin’, at this point. i can never be nice to you.” hobie rolls his eyes. it’s accompanied with a tch!, the sound of his tongue clicking against his teeth. he’s dramatic enough to cross his arms over his chest and turn his face away from hers with a petty scowl.

eden can only giggle, a soft palm coming up to his cheek when she stops walking in front of him. “thank you, honey. i really appreciate you looking out for me. don’t know what i’d do without you.”

hobie can pretend to be annoyed all he wants but when she’s up close and personal like this, he can’t help but break out in a grin. “put your mask on, lover. it’ll be easier to swing there.” he pulls away from her hold to tug his wide eyed mask over his face. hammer-space is particularly useful in swallowing the expanse of his hair.

it’s all packaged neatly and flat against his skull, protecting his identity from the public. hobie lingers by the fire escape, leaned against the wall and scrolling through his phone. there was no service here, it not being his earth, but he wouldn’t be hobie if he wasn’t fiddling with something. “gonna miss the sunrise if you don’t hurry up, e.”

eden side eyes him and his dwindling patience. if she felt spitful enough, she’d take even more time. instead, she copies his manner and take his place at his side. “okay, okay. come on.” she tucks the house keys securely into her back pocket. they’re snug in place here with little chance of them slipping out.

upon exiting the window and standing on the fire escape stairs, eden can feel the wind almost immediately. spring mornings are chilly and the occasional breeze doesn’t make it any better. she’s grateful to have the cardigan keeping some warmth against her body. at least, until she’s swinging through midair. it’s enough to bring goosebumps to her skin but she doesn’t care, not when she’s swinging through the city side by side with the love of her life. 

eden feels exhilarated, drunk off the excitement running ice cold through her veins. the thrill of watching new york blur by, the city lights become streaks in the background. the wind ripples through her cardigan in waves, tugging it in all directions from her body as smoothly as an angry ocean centered in a just as viscous storm.

paralleled from eden and her long ropes of twists whipping around her, hobie moves with just as much delight. his bug-eyes are especially round and pleased. of course, there’s no obvious tell but eden knows. besides, the tinkling of his laughter can’t be masked by rushing air.

“isn’t this so much better than bein’ holed up in your room?” he yells over the wind, almost almost distracting eden enough from spotting him snatching up baked goods from a poor unsuspecting employee just trying to transport them from the truck to the store.

there’s only so much eden can do to show her silent disapproval. her method for this particular situation is a disgruntled and dramatic sigh. a part of her can’t help but pity the person just trying her job. another part of her feels nothing when in the end, the damage will be so miniscule that new york’s big corp won’t even notice. besides, she can’t be too upset about it or hobie will refuse to bring her sweet little treats when he comes to visit her.

“you couldn’t do it, lovely. you’re spider sage after all, a pinnacle of good society. what would they do without you?” hobie tugs the box in tow. it’s no trouble at all, light as a feather and matching the teasing tone of his voice.

it’s something he’s grown accustomed to bugging her about. truthfully, there’s always been this underlying goodness eden had that hobie lacked. sure, she’d let him do whatever he wanted but she’s good, morally better than him. that’s what the propaganda is pushing, at least

eden brushes past his comments and him, uninterested in starting the banter. there wouldn’t be a moment when he’d get over it. as much as hobie liked to claim it’s a hill he isn’t willing to die on, she feels differently. “shut up and show me that place before i go home and lock you out.”

“you wound me, ed.”

“hobart!” she breaks her neck to shoot him in a glare. the white silhouettes of her eyes narrowed and focused solely on him. “i’ll beat your ass into the ground. say it again.”

“you tempt me but i will not,” hobie disappears into the the busy trees of central park without a second thought.

it’s fairly empty during this hour, despite the busy hustle of the city in other areas. the only people that pass by are the occasional morning joggers, adorned in athletic attire and bluetooth headsets. they’re far and few between though, giving eden the illusion that she and hobie are alone. it definitely seems that way when they land in the soft grass, still damp from morning dew and surrounded by the calls of birds hidden in the trees.

“sun’s gonna rise soon, dove. you wanna sit in a tree or what?” hobie pulls the mask off his head in one smooth tug. the expanse of his wicks jump out of hammerspace with vigor, bouncing in the air. he stuffs the mask in his pocket and offers eden one of the plastic wrapped pastries he may or may not have stolen.

eden scrunches her face at the thought of sitting where the bugs and birds reside. as romantic as the thought may be, it wasn’t very practical nor clean. “the grass . . . why would i want to sit in a tree? does that seem like something i’d like?”

“i don’t believe in predictability.” he says as if it’s a passing comment and takes a seat on the grass. hobie doesn’t mind the dampness of it at all, having been used to living in more uncomfortable conditions for parts of his life. he wipes his hands across the fabric of his cargos and pats the space in his lap, just for eden.

if she wasn’t in love and willing to look past his annoyingness, eden would have sucked it up and sat on the marsh. instead, she squints and rolls her eyes before complying. “you are so irritating. can you act like a normal person or does your brain just not work?”

“define normal? what even qualifies as a normal person? you’re just forcin’ conformity on me.” his arms goes to wrap around her waist, massaging the warm skin by sliding his hands under the hem of her shirt. “besides, i don’t believe in conformity, either.”

she sucks her bottom lip beneath the slightly jagged edges of her teeth. it takes more control than she’s comfortable with to will her patience to remain despite hobie’s quips and smart remarks. “okay, hobart. whatever you say.” eden runs her fingers through the grass, enjoying the dampness of it all. the blades, still stuck in a brown turning green color with the spring season approaching, remind her of hobie’s eyes. although, it’s far easier to look at without the butterflies and warm feeling spreading across her skin.

the birds chirp and chatter in the trees. they’re active and singing to announce the rising sun on the horizon, turning the sky into various shades of pink and orange. it smells like morning, both humid and sweet. the air is fresh and crisp enough to swing eden’s lungs and would send a chill down her spine if hobie wasn’t here with her.

though his frame is small, hobie always warm and always fidgeting. now, his fingers are dancing across her skin. he drags the tips up and down her sides in random lines with no seeming sense of direction, just enjoying her presence, nose deep in the crook of her neck and forgetting everything else in the world. “i missed you so much. had to fix my watch just to come see you. you know how many parts i had to steal for that?”

“janky ass watch. you should have just used the one given to you, hobes. it’s so much easier. literally, just put in my earth and come to my room.” eden scoffs. the whole situation is funny to her no matter how many times hobie brings it up. he’s too stubborn to use anything the spider-society gave him. sometimes he’s so open minded, he becomes narrow minded and it’s eden’s job to remind him to give the world a chance.

she fails every time.

“i don’t want them to know where i am or what i’m doing. that’s an invasion of my privacy and one of the first steps in losin’ what little freedom i have. first, they give me the watch and tell me what missions i have to go on. then, they’re going to start watching’ where i’m going at all times to make sure i’m actually doin’ what they told me to. miguel is goin’ to start talking about how i can’t go across dimensions without a mission because i risk causing an anomaly. he already pisses me off. he’s like the poster child for a fascist. i mean, look how he’s on miles. poor guy can’t do anythin’ without miguel breathin’ down his neck.”

“that must be so hard for you. so difficult to not listen to the man whose whole job is telling you what to do so entire worlds don’t fall apart.” eden plucks a blade of grass from the dirt, only to let it go and watch it float back onto the ground below her. she giggles when hobie tickles her sides.

“don’t get smart. when we all eventually resort to anarchy, you’re going to wish you listened to me.” his lips move over her skin. they’re smooth and plump, moisturized with pomegranate burt’s bees chapstick, stolen from his local gas station.

the two fall into a peaceful silence, enjoying the other’s company. it’s soothing to have their other half there in the natural privacy of central park and moving much slower than the normal hustle and bustle of the city.

a butterfly flutters by. it’s wings are orange with a brown underside. it occasionally rests on a dandelion in the field before letting the wind pick it up and carry it away.

the wind whispers relaxing words in eden’s ears. she leans against hobie, tilting her head back until her head is resting on his shoulder. for a moment, everything around her ceases to exist. the only thing that draws her back is the fleeting feeling of hobie’s fingers dipping lower and lower until they surpass the waistband of her pants.

“hobie,” eden mumbles. it’s more of a curious hum than a warning, paired with a slight increase in her heart race. she wets her lips when he doesn’t stop venturing downward and offers no response in return. “hobie,” she says again, louder than the first time and lifting her head with it. by now, he’s reached the elastic of her panties.

“relax, eden. don’t make a big deal out of it.” hobie doesn’t hesitate to make room for the expanse of his rather large hand by pulling it out to unbutton and pull down the zipper of her pants. just as quick as he’s done that, he returns his hand to his previous place and teasingly runs along her folds.

“we’re in public. what if someone sees?” eden’s chest rises in an anticipatory breath. she circles her hand around his wrist but makes no move to stop him. just that quickly is hobie able to cloud her mind and throw any sense she has out the window. eden is supposed to be the levelheaded one and usually she is. any other time, when hobie’s fingers aren’t borderline brushing against her clit, she is.

“spider senses. i can just pull my hand back. you think too much.” so badly does hobie want to make a teasing comment about how easily she turns into putty in his hands. it doesn’t take very long to gather enough slick that he can practically hear it.

it’s almost like he has complete control over her body. every muscle almost liquidates and there’s no resistance, as if there ever was. “yeah well,” eden lets out a soft whisper of a moan, “you don’t think enough.”

“mhm, and what else?” even though he can’t see her face, hobie has been down this road enough times to envision it behind the dark canvas of his closed eyes. arguably, it’s better to him this way, being able to hear what effect he has on her and know that he is pleasing her, even when he can’t exactly witness it.

hobie just knows and that speaks for itself.

he pushes a finger past the tightness of her entrance deep enough to elicit the softest whimper from her sweet lips. in hobie’s head, eden deserves this. she deserves the opportunity to unwind and make irrational decisions, crowded by lust and general immaturity. he thinks she’s too serious sometimes, too good of a person, too law abiding. who is the government to tell him when he can and can’t make the love of his life feel good?

“and –” eden is cut off by a gasp. she grabs at his hand wrapped securely around her waist, digging her nails into his skin. “you’re . . .  annoying.” she gives in and closes her eyes, succumbing to the mind numbing pleasure that courses through her veins. 

hobie is intoxicating in the way he handles her. the palm of his hand catches and rolls against her clit with each stroke of his fingers inside her walls. he kisses along her neckline until his lips find the pulse of her heartbeat along her jugular. hobie chuckles lightly against her skin. he can feel each drum under them, the rhythm just a rapid as he imagined.

“you’re so wet. what happened to being worried about everyone else?” hobie has to tighten hs grip in response to her losing the ability to sit still, writhing around in his lap. he anchors her in place despite her whines and attempts to twist her body around.

eden can’t tell if she’s doing anything to contribute but her mind is so cloudy, she can’t seem to care. instead, she’s pleasing what instincts she has to absolutely lose her mind. her will to resist has been chipped away before it could even develop, before eden could talk herself into some sense of sanity. for now, she will simply be a loose-limbed participant and later, she’ll be accusing hobie of seducing her out of her pants.

eden can only whimper under the safety of the birds tweeting around her. she is handing the situation over to her boyfriend and she knows it. most of all, she loves it. she loves that he can relax her so easily and distract her from the building stress that bubbled just under the surface all week. “hobie, please.”

“please what?” hobie stares at the side of her face with a sudden seriousness. eden, with the only thing she can see is the blankless behind her eyelids, is blissfully unaware. she can’t see the way he drinks in her expressions with darkened eyes in hopes that the image will be imprinted in his mind for years to come. his question has no degrading intentions, rather promoting his smart girl to continue to speak her mind.

yet, eden can only offer to add pants to the conversation. she strains her neck towards his face and grip his chin between the thumb and the rest of her fingers. she pulls him in to a kiss, sloppily. their tongues dance with each other and drool begins to slightly pools in the corners of their mouths.

it’s hobie who’s mind becomes foggy when eden moans into his mouth. he thinks she tastes . . . spiced. like a subtle hint of the chai she’s always drinking during the late night studies. he can feel his dick jumping in his pants, begging for freedom or some sensation of touch but hobie refuses. not now, at least. 

instead, he pulls his head away and silences the other voices in his head screaming to indulge in the space between her thighs. “please what, treacle?” he repeats with a certain softness in his voice, close enough to justify a whisper. his eyes dart between her lips and her eyes, even at the obvious bulge in her pants where his hand is.

she takes a sharp breath, brown eyes rounding in gentleness, as if she was pleading with him to meet some sort of compromise. however, there’s only one thing that eden wants. “don’t tease.” she kisses hobie again with the same fervent passion as before, tangling her hand within the stray strands of hairs surrounding his wicks. she catches hobie off guard by tugging on his bottom lip through her teeth.

“i’m not teasing, e. you’re just being shy.” hobie mumbles into her mouth. still, he allows her to get away with it and drives his fingers into her with an increasing pace. he knows he’s found her g-spot when eden is no longer able to kiss him with the amount of expertise she was before. all of her concentration goes into keeping her moans to a minimum. the coil in his stomach wraps tighter around itself until eden is tense, grinding back down onto hobie’s fingers. the crease of her thighs are wet with her arousal but she doesn’t care. not when she’s right on the brink of ––

“why did you stop?” eden’s eyes fly open when the sudden emptiness settles in from hobie pulling his fingers away. they glisten with a sheen but he continues to button and readjust her clothes back into their original position.

just in time for a jogger to come running by, sparing the two a glance on their way.

hobie watches eden come to the realization, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. “spider senses are so cool, right? if only you actually used yours. come on, i’ll get you home and you can decide whether or not your whatever the fuck you were doin’ is more important.”

[pinkhairedlily]

You’ll outgrow the nightmares and sleepless nights. 

That’s what Sasuke tells himself the first night their team sleeps outside. This is the first in his list of beliefs. His ears are acutely tuned to the brushing of leaves against the ground and the creaking of branches, looking for an invisible enemy, but he knows that if there is, they would be silent and it would be over in a beat.

Like the night his brother annihilated the roots of his existence.

With fresh maroon across surfaces, Sasuke escaped to the relief of the forest clearing.  This is all right, he thought, there is no shade of red here. 

The same cover hangs overhead now, and just like that, he falls asleep.

“Sasuke-kun!” 

Someone slaps his face hard. Somewhere, atop an obscure branch, Kakashi giggles.

A lighter shade of red—rose—fills his sights. Sakura’s hair is itchy on his nose and cheeks, and he feels annoyed, if not for the worried expression on her face. It’s the first time he sees features rearranged like this for him.

“You were screaming in your sleep,” her voice climbs down a notch, almost a whisper that barely carries over Naruto’s snoring.

Sasuke sits upright, not bothering to check remnants of sleep on the corners of his lids. It’s still dark, hours away from the beginning of a day, and hours lost again to what might be a sleepless rumination. He ponders whether he should feel embarrassed? Irritated for being woken up? (He doesn’t remember it, wouldn’t like to remember what it was about). Apologetic for disturbing her sleep?

“It’s okay,” she adds rather speedily, as if conjuring excuses for him, “You’re alone anyways.”

He should’ve shut his mouth. “What does that mean?”

She pauses to weigh her words. “There’s no one to wake you.” 

What she means to say: no one hears your pain. 

He deflects it with silence (well, what could he reply to that?) and walks away from their sleeping area. Sakura, drowsy-eyed yet still worried, clambers after his footsteps. Tch, annoying.

“You’re not sleeping,” she states the obvious.

“It’s almost morning.” Liar.

“Okay.” She sits cross-legged beside him, a full arm’s width away, and seemingly practices hand seals in the air. Despite the darkness, Sasuke could see they’re all sorts of wrong, but why would he care? He trains his gaze upwards and counts the stars, names the constellations, spots the dying streaks of embers.

“You missed boar,” he says.

Sakura corrects the sequence, and finally, she gets it right. She squeals with her whole body, he notices, as if happiness can ebb from each pore and travel the distance of a space of an arm.

Sasuke can touch it with his fingertips.

He lets himself feel the silly kind of giddy, and there’s a spring in his recount of the same sky. 

Just like that, again, he falls asleep.

“Sasuke-kun!” And again, Sakura wakes him up, her voice still a whisper but her cheeks now brighter than her hair. Sasuke waits for her to relieve herself from his shoulder which, sometime in the ensuing hours, she has made a pillow of.

And the crown of her head, his.

Behind her, Kakashi is all set to go, a knowing smile playing out behind his mask (Of course Sasuke doesn’t see it but he’s sure! That old man has that smirk!). Naruto is crawling, butt rising first before his feet, the dawn creeping up to meet his skin.

When Sasuke gathers his things, he adds to his list several beliefs: (a) there’s a sleep without the crazy monsters; (b) he woke up earlier than Sakura but he didn’t move; (c) because she smelled nice and he managed a few good winks; (d) and he’s afraid of what this means.

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

There will come soft rains ~ Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

[spinnysocks]

TRICK OR TREAT !!!!!!!!

YIPPEE!!! have a wolfquest oc thing :]

Blackwell closed her eyes, contently wrapped around her five little pups. She could feel her mate's fur against hers where their backs touched, the soft rise and fall of his body comforting. Sleep was quick after a long day of reinforcing territory.

In her deepest dreams, Blackwell saw the stars shimmer before her. They were so close, as if they had come down from the sky to greet her, yet so far away. The space around her was painted the darkest of nights; nothing was distinguishable but the stars, until shapes began to appear around them. First, a wolf just like her. And another. Pups appeared. Many of them. Then, as if the moon had cast its light over some shady moor, dozens of shapes were in front of her. Bison, mule deer, moose, pronghorn and, of course, elk. Young, elders and those in the prime of their life. Eagles soared — golden and bald. Figures of coyotes howled into the night. Foxes trotted. Cougars crept. Bears stood on their hind legs. Cubs stayed close behind their mothers. Hares scattered, looking like the stars themselves with their pure-white winter coats. Beavers carried their branch loads between their teeth. Every creature of the land was laid before the black wolf's very eyes. She stared at the first wolf and herself stared back. This different her had stars in her eyes, a youthful look long forgotten by Blackwell's current self. In that moment, she could feel her age; her legs were bony, her muzzle was grey and her vision was beginning to dim. The stars were telling her — your time is up.

Blackwell did not expect to wake up. One of her pups licked her muzzle and she opened her eyes. The pup was prancing in place, whining and begging for food — but the adult wolf had no more to regurgitate for her. Even if her world was going dark, she had a family to look after that couldn't go on without her. Blackwell glanced at her mate. Sentry was up and playing with his pups, playbowing as an invitation to chase and running from them. When they begged him for food, he had no more in his reserves either. Blackwell stood. Her time wasn't up just yet.

Hunting an elk and chasing away a bear had gone faster than she expected. Albeit, they woke up in the night and it was almost dawn now, but the old wolf couldn't feel the time passing anymore. Newly-named Dahlia looked at her mother and Blackwell looked back before grinning at her little pup. It was time to say goodbye. She licked Dahlia's face submissively and cuddled her larger body up next to her, the pup whining in delight. Blackwell did the same for Almond, Jupiter, Sentinel and Glacier. They all wagged their tails at her, innocently unaware of how their lives were going to change. Blackwell chose not to worry as she approached her mate, wagging her tail low. Sentry immediately picked up on her lack of confidence and licked her face, nuzzling against her. They stayed that way for a few moments before Blackwell pulled away; her mate didn't understand either, he was too young to see wolves go from old age. She gave him a final lick before trotting away from her den, her family, her life. Sentry watched her retreating form, blinded by the rising sun — he must've known she'd be okay alone.

The black wolf followed the sunrise until it led her to a field, filled to the brim with spring's colourful flowers. Blackwell found herself sinking easily into the soft grass as she laid down. Instantly, her life came before her in her mind. She remembered Ranger, her first mate, and she remembered their first litter of pups. Grief pooled into her heart again as she thought about how many of them were in the stars before her — none were gone from illness or disease, rather brutally lost their precious lives in a battle or a hunt while raising their own litters. Mouse and Stag weren't even granted pups of their own. The only one to survive to four years was Everest, but even she had so many troubles that she couldn't bare to have more pups than her first litter. At least she was still alive with her mate, somewhere out there. At least her pups weren't left with only one parent. Blackwell prayed that her grandpups were safe, that maybe she'd greet them with wagging tails and licking muzzles if they had already travelled to the stars. She pushed past the thoughts of her first litter — she couldn't grieve over them and them only when she had five more. Many of her later pups didn't even make it to summer. And yet, the seasons kept moving every time she lost. She kept surviving, even when Ranger did not wake up from his sleep. She kept moving, even when grief swallowed any affection she could have for her new mate whole. She kept living, till she learned to love what she had here and now. A sixth litter — something most wolves could only dream of. A blessing. A piece of joy, just like when her litter before that accepted Sentry as their new father. When she could finally open up her heart again and allow the love of her family to flow in. That was life to her.

The sun rose higher but her vision grew darker. Her breathing slowed and her body relaxed. She closed her eyes and she was not afraid. She was peaceful, happy and glad to live such a life.

i just. wrote all of this in one sitting o7

[aldbooks]

25. "I forget what your face looks like if I close my eyes too long. It scares me."hello. I love your writing. Could it be an Elain/Lucien with that?🥰🥰

Sorry this so long to get to! Thank you for the kind words dear 💕

prompt list

---

The sharp tug in his chest woke Lucien from a dead sleep as he was suddenly filled with a nearly overwhelming sense of panic that was not his own. For once he didn't stop to asses or consider the consequences of his actions. No, this time he acted on instinct, following that thread around his heart, smashing through the wards surrounding the River House in Velaris, straight into her room.

He was half surprised he'd been able to winnow so far. Granted he'd been staying in the Dawn Court, which was much closer than the human lands, but he'd never moved so far in one go before. He'd chalk it up to his mate instincts taking control for now and contemplate it another time.

He found Elain thrashing in her bed, her sobs and wordless pleas shattering his heart. He threw up a hasty shield around the room before going to her since the last thing he needed to deal with on top of attempting to soothe his erstwhile mate was an angry High Lord or Lady ready to reduce him to nothing for breaking into their house.

Her skin was ice cold when he touched her shoulders and he tried not to think too hard about just how much of it was currently exposed to him as her thrashing pulled the thin fabric of her nightgown tight around her body and exposed her thighs. One of her sleeves had fallen down her shoulder and was dangerously close to exposing her breasts. Luckily the lust that tried to stir in him was currently overpowered by the need to rouse her from whatever terror held her captive.

"Elain," he said firmly, giving her a slight shake. Her hands clutched at him with surprising force, sharp nails slicing through the skin of his arms but she did not otherwise seem aware of him.

He shook her once more, "Wake up!" He sent a pulse of power through her, warming her too cold skin and could feel her magic respond to him. So he did it again.

Slowly her cries quieted and her body stilled, her hands falling away from him. Carefully, he reached up with one hand and cupped the side of her face. She nuzzled briefly into his palm as her eyes fluttered open. He withdrew as soon as she saw him.

Elain blinked at him a few times before sitting up with a gasp, glancing around herself as though unsure where she was. "Wh-How-what are you doing here?"

He held back a sigh at the way she clutched the covers against her chest and pulled away from him. He was suddenly aware of his own state of undress. He normally slept without clothes but, by chance, he'd fallen asleep tonight still wearing the soft linen pants favored in Dawn, though he still wore no shirt or shoes.

He felt foolish for coming here at all, Feyre would have found and woken her eventually. Now that he'd contented himself that she was well, he'd leave her to her sister's care. He stood, flicking a hand at the door to lift the shield he'd placed around her room. "Your dream woke me," he said refraining from further explanation.

"I'll leave you now before Rhysand decides to kill me for destroying his wards."

He froze at the sound of his name though he didn't dare look back at her.

"...you've- it's been a long time since you've- been here."

It had been. He'd declined Feyre's last few invitations, using his duties in both the human lands and Spring as an excuse, though in truth, he was sure they both knew the reason for his reluctance to return here. To travel so far to see her, only for her to dismiss him with barely a look. There was only so much he could take. Even he had his pride.

He wasn't sure what she meant by bringing up his absence now when she'd never been inclined to so much as speak to him in the past. But whatever reasons he might have thought of, none would have come close to the words that tumbled from her next.

"I forget sometimes, what your face looks like, if I close my eyes too long... "

Slowly he turned to face her, his breath held. Her face was unreadable in the darkness. "Does that bother you?"

"...it scares me."

Lucien forgot to breathe for a moment. "I would've thought you'd be happy to forget me." The words were out before he could shove them down. Even in the darkness he could see her flinch. Next he knew, he was crossing the room once more to kneel before her. Wide, doe eyes followed his movement.

A twitch of his fingers brought the candles at her bedside to life, illuminating them both in a soft glow. For several seconds, neither of them said a word, simply stared at one another, Lucien's eyes drinking in the sight of her lovely face, enough to last him until he saw her again.

To his surprise, she reached out a hand to brush his cheek. His eyes slid shut at the touch, he inhaled her sweet scent but held still while she traced the planes of his face.

After a long moment that was filled with nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths, she whispered, "I don't want to forget."

[poems-from-around-the-world]

There Will Come Soft Rains - Sara Teasdale - USA

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.

[amplifyme]

"Now you know..."

"You killed him?" There was a hint of incredulity and his tenor almost jovial - a clear invitation to tell him more.

"I did," she affirmed. "It was so easy. After the wolves called to me for the first time… after I discovered what I could do, it all became clear to me. I was a good wife and he denied me little. A ride down into the valley one afternoon, just the two of us. That was my gambit. A picnic on a warm spring day. I fed him fruit and cheese, warmed his mouth with kisses and wine. And when he lay back upon the bright green of the new grass, I called to them and they came. They fell upon him so quickly he hadn't even a chance to rise, and I took to my feet and watched as they…"

Her gaze followed him down as Sandor abruptly folded with a grunt and sat on his haunches, their knees touching. He grasped her tightly at the shoulders. "Look at me," he commanded. "Tell me true, did it feel good to see him die? When you saw the terror in his eyes, watched the light go out of them, did you hear the singing in your blood? Did you feel what it was to finally have power, when you'd been so powerless before?"

She could not see him clearly, his features half hidden in the dark, but she didn't need to. What she could see of his terrible burned face, what she sensed in the meaning behind his words, was a revelation. And she knew him, then, as the boy he had been and found herself grieving for all they had both lost, and knew how dear the cost.

"Yes, she whispered. His hands slid up and he cupped her cheeks and leaned into her, until she could feel his breath upon her skin, until all she could see was his face.

"Now you know," he said.

"Yes," she repeated. "Now I know." She bent her head and rested it on his shoulder.

How long they stayed that way she could not say. But the sky above them was alight with the first of dawn's pale and streaky colors when he slowly stood, pulling her up with him. Then he bent, hooked an arm under her knees, and lifted her against his chest. He carried her into the cottage and straight to the bed where they soon fell asleep, tangled together and safe beneath their furs. When she woke again later that morning she was alone in the bed, and her wolves had come again.

The Calling

[climbthemountain2020]

Hope of Spring - Chapter 14

Also on Ao3!

Find Chapter 13 here :)

Penny was a disheveled disaster when she woke up in the morning after only two hours of sleep, but she still absolutely sprang out of bed to send the parchment to Tamlin before the sun was even peaking over the mountains.

Hi, it’s me. I miss you. She scrawled across the sheet.

It disappeared in a wisp of smoke, and Penny waited with anticipation. She decided she might as well get dressed while she waited, but then she all but tripped over her own pants as she heard a curl of paper hit the desk in the room, trying to get back to it. She grasped the paper in her hands like a woman starved.

Hello, love. The manor is absolutely empty, as is my heart, while you’re gone. I miss you terribly.

She sat back onto the bed, giggling and blushing while she took the quill to write her response.

Has my mighty High Lord been turned to a poet in my absence? She grinned as she sent it off. Gods, she felt like a teenager again, kicking her feet wildly on her bed at the prospect of talking to someone she was interested in. How could he have such an effect on her?

You’d be amazed what poetry I could recite to you. The response came almost immediately.

I’d like to be amazed at what additional acts your mouth might perform. She sent it off before she could change her mind, cheeks already blazing despite the activities they’d spent the last week pursuing in their bed.

My, my. Penny Briggs, you rake. Come home to me and let me show you all the different ways I can recite poetry and where.

Penny’s blush deepened to a million shades of scarlet and held the parchment to her chest, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

Your offer is too good to refuse, my Lord. I will be home tonight–we’ve got some additional training today, but I can’t wait to be back with you. I love you. She sent it off and went to pull the rest of her clothing on, tying her hair back into a low braid and using the leather strap she’d stolen from Tamlin’s dresser to tie it off. She liked having a piece of him with her, regardless of where she was.

I love you too. Knock ‘em dead. She sighed, smiling like an idiot, and went downstairs to see who else was awake for breakfast

________________________

Feyre walked Penny out to the back yard near the Sidra to get past the wards of the River House.

“I let Rhys know we would be back soon to see what we can do with Elain’s power. This shouldn’t take too long–a quick detour!” She had that sly grin on her face again that Penny was quickly coming to associate with her and her mate. Feyre had a large bag slung over her back along with a bow and stash of arrows. She handed Penny a dagger. “You won’t need this, but just in case. We’ll be in the woods.”

“Wait, what–” She didn’t get the words out before Feyre grabbed her and winnowed. They landed roughly in a deep forest, moss and trees and lichen as far as she could see. Feyre was already setting out a blanket she’d brought, tossing two fluffy cloaks and a freshly headless chicken in a burlap sack onto it. Understanding dawned on Penny as Feyre stepped away, hands on her hips, appraising her set up.

“Are you summoning a suriel?” Before Feyre could answer her, a shiver crept up Penny’s spine. A voice that seemed to echo through the woods from no traceable direction spoke with the voices of countless others.

“Feyre Archeron.” The voices whispered. “We are always happy to assist.” A cloaked figure drifted from the trees to the waiting blanket and reached to thumb over the cloaks Feyre had left. Feyre threw herself down casually onto a nearby log as if this were the most normal, casual conversation she’d ever had, while Penny stood, gaping.

“I am seeking help for my good friend, Penny.” She gestured to Penny, who was practically vibrating at the scene unfolding just feet in front of her.

“Your friend is not of this world.” The suriel turned its depthless eyes on Penny. “Penelope Briggs. A traveler, indeed. A friend of the Cursebreaker is a friend of ours. What do you wish to know?” The suriel unclipped their current cloak and swung a new one upon their shoulders, as if they were simply old friends catching up over tea. Penny sent an unsure look to Feyre, who in turn gave her a reassuring nod as if to say go on then.

“My world. Uhm. My home. What happened? What sent me here?” Though the suriel’s face could not reflect emotion, Penny felt more than saw the sorrow in their eyes.

“The home you knew is gone. Your soul, departed. It was diverted here. Into this form in our world,” She gestured softly at Penny.

“Gone? What do you mean gone? The world itself?”

“On the night of your great fall, Penny Briggs, a candle caught fire to your home while you slept. You were dreaming of adventure–dreaming of Prythian. Once your mortal body ceased to be, your soul diverted here, believing it to be a sanctuary. There is no home for you to return to,” the suriel’s curious voice whispered gently.

Penny thought she’d be more surprised, upset even, to find she had died. This wasn’t all some dream. She’d died there in her bed, dreaming of taking baby steps forward in a life that left her unfulfilled and sad. She was more relieved than anything. This was real–this was real now. She didn’t have to worry about finding a way back, or grapple with the lack of drive she felt to do so.

“Am I immortal?”

The suriel began snacking on the chicken, causing Feyre to smile broadly. “What do you feel?”

Penny considered. “Powerful. Beyond measure.”

“You are correct. If you wish to know of your lifespan, my advice is that you should stay with your High Lord,” they shot a pointed look at Feyre. “The one you’re already with, to be clear.” Feyre cackled. “I imagine the two of you have many centuries left together.”

Penny was filled with a joy beyond measure. Tamlin. Her mate. Her love. They would have that time together.

“Thank you. You have no idea what this means. Thank you.” Her voice was bogged down with rough emotion. Nodding at them both, the suriel made to leave with their cloaks and what remained of the chicken.

“Wait!” Penny shouted, as they turned to go. “What cloaks are your favorite? Just in case we see you again. Do you like fur or something lighter? Color preferences?”

The suriel let out a sound that Penny thought might have been a laugh. “You are going to leave this world a better place than you found it, Penny Briggs. Black, preferably, any material. Soft.” Penny nodded. “Until next time, High Lady.”

Penny looked back, expecting the suriel’s eyes to be on Feyre, but they were solely focused on her as a smiling Feyre winnowed them away.

________________________

Feyre and Penny returned to the River House in the late morning, finding everyone awake and discussing plans in the library. Rhys thought they might attempt to pass Elain’s power to Penny, then they could all settle in and have lunch, as Elain’s visions were not always frequent or timeable. Penny figured she might have some time to digest what she’d been told by the suriel, and perhaps she could even begin on Rhys’ list of questions.

She went upstairs to get her things together so they’d be ready to go when they finished up. The parchment on her desk lay empty from earlier, so she scribbled on it quickly:

About to begin practicing with Elain. I miss you so much. I’ll be home soon.

Penny changed back into her favorite leather pants, soft green tunic, and leather corset top. She braided her hair back into another plait with Tamlin’s leather, then nodded to herself in the mirror. She finished packing, went to splash some water on her face, then re-laced her boots, hoisting her bag over her shoulders to leave down in the foyer. The parchment hadn’t come back, but she assumed that at midday, he was probably out on border patrol so they wouldn’t need to worry about it when she returned this afternoon. She smiled–she felt silly for missing him so much after just a day away, but she was ready to throw herself into his arms when she arrived home.

Penny came back down to the dining area and set her bag by the door. Elain was already there with a plate full of food, and clasped Penny’s hand to bring her to sit with her. Things with Elain were easy–Penny felt like she was conversing with an old friend. Elain was kind and easy to like. She smelled like pears and lilacs and honey, and a bit of Lucien, too. The way he doted on her was amazing to watch, the two of them so impossibly in love with each other that it radiated through the room. Lucien always had a hand on Elain, and vice versa. She knew that this mating bond had taken time and patience, but it seemed to have paid off. She hoped her patience would one day do the same.

“I can’t stop eating, I swear. I’ve always sort of just picked through the day, but now I could put the baker out of business.” She turned to Lucien, eyes suddenly large. “Oh, speaking of, could we go to the baker later today? Maybe we could get some of those chocolate eclairs with the dollops of cream with the cinnamon?” Lucien just chuckled, but nodded warmly at her, running a hand down her cheek.

“Of course, love. We can go after lunch.” Elain smiled and leaned her head against Lucien’s shoulder. Penny’s heart clenched violently at the sight and she was almost physically overcome by the need to be with Tamlin. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her today that had her feeling the need to be back by Tamlin’s side so fervently. Was this just the mating bond chafing at her distance? She visualized the golden ribbon, swirling in the mists as usual, but it seemed to whisper go to him, be with him, go to him, be with him. She had read that the mating bonds were demanding, but this felt more urgent than just missing him. As soon as she had the vision, she was ready to be back home.

Suddenly, the room went quiet. Penny’s eyes whipped up to Elain’s, which had gone milky white. She gasped, but before she could get a word out, she was sucked back into a vacuum of dark space. For a moment, it felt like she was floating, but then she slammed into what looked like a live battle. Penny whirled around, immediately on alert as swords clanged violently around her and the screams of the wounded pierced her ears. Her breathing was labored as she spun wildly trying to figure out where she was and what had happened. Had she accidentally winnowed somewhere dangerous? She had never winnowed before–she wasn’t even sure how to.

She turned as a bird of flame flew through the sky above her, scattering embers on the wind behind her as she gave out a great cry. Vassa. She understood now–this was a vision. Vassa’s light illuminated the bloodstained snow on the banks of a lake as darkness flew out of a small, onyx box. At the last moment, Penny understood the box was in her hands, and then she catapulted back into her body into the River House. She gasped a deep breath into lungs that felt heavy as people gathered around her and Elain, who was clearly coming back more peacefully than she had.

“It’s okay, Penny. The first few transitions are rough.” Elain put her hand on Penny’s as she panted.

Rhys wanted to see into both their minds and compare the visions as they came back down, so he began with Elain. Penny was still thinking back, noting that onyx box she’d seen in detail. The shadows that burst out of it were nothing like Rhys or Azriel’s shadows.

When he was finished with Elain, he looked in to see Penny’s vision, allowing her to view it start to finish one more time. Someone shoved a glass of water into Penny’s hand and she sipped it, shaking violently, trying to steady her pounding heart.

“They’re different visions,” he spoke, casting them in sequence into the minds of everyone in the room. Elain’s vision had been one of Autumn Court soldiers marching over fallen leaves, then trampling on flowers, breaking the stems and leaving them smashed and dirty in their wake. Everyone seemed shocked, and Penny immediately began to worry that Elain’s vision meant an attack on Spring.

“We’ll have additional forces on standby ready to go into Spring if need be,” Feyre said. “I’ll go ahead and send the missives now to be on alert.” She got up to go to the study.

“This is good, though, right? Two visions means twice the Seer power?” Everyone nodded. “Now we just see how long it lasts outside of contact, and if it can sustain the distance.”

Elain took Penny’s hand again and nodded. “It is good. You did wonderfully, and you will be tired now. I was exhausted after a vision for a while once they started. Until I got used to it, at least. Let’s take a few minutes to breathe, and once we bring you back to Spring, you’re under strict instructions to rest.”

Rhys spoke up. “Yes, good plan. Elain and I can winnow you back to Spring together so she’s the last person you touch.” He turned to Elain. “Will that be okay for you? Just a quick winnow and back?” She nodded, and led Penny to the dining room.

Before she could approach the table, though, that vacuum pulled her back and the glass she was holding shattered on the floor. All eyes were on her as she came to with hysteria gripping her.

“We have to leave now.” She gasped out. “Tamlin is in trouble. They’ve breached Spring.”