#But i need the Deadline Terror i work in deadlines

[andrewknightley]

Ok guys im gonna bring the Big Consecuences to make me finish stuff. If i dont finish my novel for April 25th (aka my bday) i will change avatar url and name like i was a fan of my most hated actor ever my enemy my nemesis..... For a month..... That terror would make me finish for the deadline

[gothhabiba]

hey guys, I could use your help with something! Sue is a Black disabled mother, migrant, and PhD student at Newcastle University who urgently needs solidarity. Newcastle University is reporting her to the Home Office in retaliation for her complaint about her abusive supervisor, in full awareness of her Stage 5 kidney disease. this is a life-and-death situation.

here's how you can help:

retweet Unis Resist Border Control's tweet about Sue's abusive situation at the University of Newcastle

sign the open letter to Newcastle University by 22 May

pass a motion with your UCU branch (template here)

donate to help Sue find a kidney donor, apply to Leave to Remain, pay solicitor fees, and cover living costs

Sue's story from the #WeAreAllSue toolkit:

In 2022, Sue Agazie, high-achieving in her field, was promised financial support for her tuition fees through scholarships and paid opportunities and enrolled into the PhD programme at Newcastle University Business School with this understanding. When Sue arrived in the UK in 2023, however, she learned that all of this financial promise was a lie; the scholarships that she had been promised never materialised. Instead, she has gone into horrific debt and is having trouble surviving.

For almost a year, Sue sought financial support for herself and her family, including grants and opportunities that would burnish the reputation of her supervisor and university as a whole. However, in that year, her supervisor not only prevented her from applying to scholarships and paid opportunities, but further controlled her research and day-to-day quality of life, with a high-level of surveillance, inappropriate supervisory practices, and escalating harassment of both her and her family.

These practices include this supervisor repeatedly preventing Sue from taking part in important professional development activities, such as research presentations, within the Business School. He also isolated her from her senior colleagues, forbidding her from attending particular activities they were facilitating, or spreading malicious rumours about them. Further, the primary supervisor repeatedly ignored Sue's pleas for support on funding applications and other opportunities that would alleviate the precarious financial situation into which she had been placed, telling her to “stop sending me links to scholarships”.

This behaviour would culminate in the primary supervisor verbally abusing Sue a number of times, and maligning Sue’s husband, alleging that he has been too lazy to financially support her. These inappropriate supervisory practices belie Newcastle University’s commitment to gender equality under the Athena SWAN Charter, for which it holds a Silver award, and for which the Business School holds a Bronze award.

An environment of terror and retaliation

This environment of surveillance, harassment, and terror has grossly impacted the health of Sue as well as that of her spouse and children. In particular, her kidney condition escalated to stage 5 kidney disease, a severe and terminal illness that causes disablement and time-sensitive, highly-delicate medical needs, during this ordeal. The National Kidney Foundation in the United States indicates that “stress and uncontrolled reactions to stress” can “lead to kidney damage.” These compounding issues have also understandably affected Sue's studies, although she has bravely persisted in her research, meeting important deadlines.

Sue raised these issues using relevant avenues of informal complaint, including her supervisory teams and student support services; there are multiple complaints that have been raised in this department. However, she did not receive sufficient support. Further, her severe health issues were not treated with the urgency and importance that they deserved. In October and November 2023, Sue's supervisor accused her of allegedly plagiarising his work in what Sue sees as a malicious act of retaliation and victimisation over her informal complaint, and an attempt to sabotage her reputation not just at Newcastle University, but to prestigious global networks. Following all of this mistreatment, Sue filed a formal complaint against her supervisor in February 2024.

Newcastle University is closing ranks

The university came back to Sue on 5 March 2024 with its response, alleging that she had fabricated the complaint against her supervisor in retaliation for his accusations of research misconduct against her, painting this vulnerable, disabled African student as a malicious liar. The supervisor even denies the relevance of her terminal illness and implicates her young child's behaviour in his response, while maintaining that her terminal illness "has nothing to do with her studies or work pressure here". Sue maintains: “During the time that I was supervised by the primary PhD supervisor, he neither kept in regular communication about my disability nor did he signpost me to relevant services within and outside of Newcastle University that could help me. It is dangerous for the primary supervisor to maintain that my disability would not have affected my studies. His comments show a gross level of disability discrimination that does not befit the reputation that Newcastle University seeks to cultivate as an inclusive place.”

Now, the university is claiming that Sue is not "engaging" sufficiently with the programme, and is threatening to report her to the Home Office, despite a written promise in January 2024 that her status would be unaffected due to the ongoing complaint process, and full knowledge of her terminal stage 5 kidney failure. Adding more insult to injury, Newcastle University Accommodation Service has been hounding Sue for rent arrears, even though they know she is critically ill and in a complaint with the university, surviving with the support of Food & Solidarity. Sue has pleaded with the university’s Accommodation Service for a rent freeze, indicating her urgent health complications and her complaint underway with the university. In all correspondences, the Accommodation Service has ignored Sue’s pleas for clemency. There is real fear that the Accommodation Service will evict Sue, her husband and their child. This will, no doubt, cause real precarity to Sue’s already fragile health condition.

We are appalled that the Newcastle University Business School is utilising obvious misogynoirist tropes to close ranks around a disabled Black migrant student who has been treated horribly, and weaponising her precarious migrant status against her as she attempts to seek justice. We are also aware that Sue is not the only student in this situation and that there have been other complaints in this department. It is a stark illustration of the pernicious institutional racism at Russell Group universities that a disabled Black migrant woman with caring responsibilities has been treated this way not only by a supervisor, but by the institution, as well as the abject way these universities instrumentalise migrant students from the Global South as sources of income that they can afterwards dispose of.

Sue maintains that this ordeal has not diminished her resolve to complete her PhD studies at Newcastle University Business School. She says, “I want to finish my PhD research. But for that to happen, Newcastle University must provide the necessary support for a disabled student in a non-abusive environment. I hope that the university listens to me and we can come to a resolution on this matter soon.”

[holidayinhell]

CWs: discussion of future torment/ alludes to noncon

“How are you going to— h-how are you going to kill me?”

 “Why?”

Whumpee shrugged weakly.

“Dunno. Lots of ways, Whumpee.” He traced Whumpee's hollow cheek lightly with his index finger. “I can’t pick only one. Gotta see all the different ways I can make ya squirm.”

The younger man wasn’t phased by the answer. He was used to the psychopath’s brutal honesty.

“What’s your favorite way to kill someone?”

It was the terror that he relished, not the act of killing itself. Getting them on the table was the height of the excitement for Whumper. The torture was enjoyable to a point, but by the time the endorphins kicked in the whole thing became work as usual. Not that Whumpee needed to know that.

“However I kill you will be my favorite, I guess.” His eyes grew wide, flashing wickedly in the fluorescent light. 

“So, what’s your favorite way to die?”

Whumpee tried to fight the shiver that wracked his spine.

“Curled up in my bed at 95.”

“Funny.” Whumper remarked dryly. 

Whumpee was painfully aware that the deadline was only three days away. He knew his family could never afford the ransom, even if they sold everything they owned. 

There was no world in which Whumpee lived past the week.

“I just… I was wondering what happens when...”

“Time’s up?”

The gaunt man nodded.

“Ain’t long now,” the killer shifted his weight to stand. “You’ll see for yourself.”

“Wait!” Whumpee shot out his arm, impulsively clutching the bottom of Whumper’s elbow. “Don’t go.”

Whumper turned back to his captive, crumpled on the floor. It was late and he was exhausted from the day, but he couldn’t resist the desperation in Whumpee’s pleading eyes.

“Just tell me what’s gonna happen.” Whumpee begged. “I need to know.”

"It doesn't matter" Whumper dismissed.

"Come on." Whumpee wasn't budging an inch. "You're right, it doesn't matter. So tell me."

“All you need to know is this: when the ransom is up, you're mine, and I can do whatever I like to you.”

Whumper gently traced the curve of Whumpee’s bottom lip with his thumb.

“Maybe you’ll like some of it too.”

“I don’t think so.” He responded blankly.

“Mmm.” Whumper retracted his hand from the man’s face. “Good thing you won’t have any choice in the matter.”

Powerless to fight the deluge of tears leaking from his exhausted eyes, an aching sadness took hold of Whumpee. Tears rolled over his cheeks, but he didn’t sob. He was beyond hollow at this point, completely numb.

A piece of his heart broke for his former self when Whumpee had the cold realization that he would probably never see the sky again. He cursed his weakness, his inability to defend himself. His entire life he had been too shy, too soft. What a waste he'd been.

In a tone barely above a whisper, Whumpee pitifully murmured: “I don’t wanna die.”

Whumper scooped up the trembling man from the floor, his strong arms wrapping around Whumpee in a confusing display of dominance and affection.

It was a feigned act of compassion, but the warmth of human contact felt good anyways. This time, Whumpee allowed the touch to comfort him.

Whumper offered no reassurances to the shell of a man quaking in his arms, he didn’t say it’s okay I would never hurt you, you’re my favorite—he didn’t say it because it wasn’t true. He wasn’t holding Whumpee tightly in his arms to comfort him. He held him close to feel Whumpee shake with fear.

Three days left. Only seventy-two hours.

“I like you, but the same rules apply to you as everyone else here.”

Whumpee pulled out of the hug, shuffling backwards.

“You said I was your favorite.” He wiped his leaking face with the back of his hand, sniffling. “Was that even true?”

“Yeah.” Whumper chuckled lightly. “You’re sweet.”

"Then why would you—" The tears surged again, cutting him off. "—how could you...?"

“I won’t touch your pretty face. Does that make you feel better?”

“I don’t know.” He snorted loudly to halt the mucus dripping from his nose. Whumpee struggled to maintain a façade of emotionlessness, but his body betrayed him at every turn. He took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, centering his mind. 

“Just walk me through it. Just once. I need to know what happens.”

“Fine.”

Whumper crouched, locking his cold eyes with Whumpee's.

“It starts off the same for everyone. First I’m gonna have you go to the bathroom. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll even let you use the one upstairs, the nice one. Sometimes people refuse to go and end up pissing on the exam table-- don’t do that. If you piss or anything when you’re strapped down, I’ll rub your fuckin’ face in it, so just go.”

“Okay.”

“Then you’ll strip down. Don’t put up a fight on that either. You won’t win.”

Whumpee nodded.

“I’ll take you to the room at the end of the hall. You know the one. Maybe I’ll have to tie you up, but if you’re a good boy that day I won’t need the ropes.”

An evil smile spread across Whumper's face. “The table is gonna feel cold on your skin. I'll have you lay back and once you lay down... Use your imagination. Anything could happen. I haven’t exactly planned it all out.”

“Yes you fucking have.” Whumpee bit back.

Whumper was taken aback. He was right of course, but he’d never heard the man swear before.

“Sure. I’ve thought about it.” Whumper chuckled. “I don’t think sharin’ every minute detail is gonna help.”

“Just tell me,” Whumpee urged. 

Whumper looked down and sighed, his impatience mounting.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“Yes.” He answered truthfully. “Among other things.”

It felt like a train crashed into Whumpee’s gut. It was happening. It was really happening.

“Will it--will it hurt?”

“A little. But I’ll try to make you feel good.”

“No I mean. After.”

“Oh." He patted the man's shoulder. "Yeah. It’s gonna hurt, Whumpee.”

As much as he didn’t look forward to sacrificing his special, trembling boy to some faceless nobody on the dark web, the money was too good to pass up. The truth was, Whumpee was worth far more dead than alive. Even if his family had managed to pull together enough funds for the payout, it was miniscule compared to what his buyer was willing to pay for the video.

“That’s enough for now. It’s late.” The killer made his way to the exit, the heels of his boots clicking against the tiles.

“Am I allowed to make a final request?” Whumpee called to his captor's receding form.

"I don't do that," the man said coldly, glancing over his shoulder.

“Please. It’s not a lot.”

"What?" Whumper snapped, impatience evident in his tone.

“C-can I please write a letter to my friend?”

The killer rubbed his exhausted eyes, sighing as he eyed the reinforced steel door.

“Please.”

“Fine, Whumpee. Whatever. You can write to your friend. I’ll get you some paper. Write a fuckin’ novel for all I care.”

“Thank y--.” 

Whumper yanked the heavy door closed behind him, silencing Whumpee’s appreciation with a decisive shove, the thick thud echoing in the corridor. He had no intention of actually delivering Whumpee’s letter to anyone; but at that point he’d do anything to shut up Whumpee’s insistent questioning. 

Still, a flicker of curiosity burned within him as he wondered what Whumpee might write.

((sequel is in progress, here's more Whump))

[otterneuvillette]

✧ WE'RE HERE FOR YOU ! ✧

⋆🌼🃏— Pairings: tighnari x gn! reader x cyno (can be read as platonic or romantic, pick your poison :0)

⋆🌼🃏— Sypnosis: You have been targeted by a group of Eremites for unknown reasons, so for your safety and the sake of their worries, you have been staying with Gandharva Ville. Here's how your life has become since then.

⋆🌼🃏— content: gn! reader, mentions of injury and just fluffy with light angst.

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It happened all so suddenly.

You were a Rtawahist researcher, one of the best of your years. You went on an expedition to the desert with a team of adventurers to research the sudden change of movement of the stars.

Along the way, you and your team had a couple of gnarly encounters with the same group of Eremites, which was weird, why are they so intent to capture your group? As far as you know, none of you had offended them or made them feel threatened.

Until they finally captured you while the others were sleeping.

"Come on, give us your research papers and your Mora, and we won't hurt your pretty little head, yeah?" One of them spoke with a gruff voice.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Archons! Why do you need my research paper so badly?! Like I understand if you wanted just my Mora, but my research papers??" You exclaimed.

"We don't have to give you our reasons, brat."

They stood up and stabbed the dagger they were holding into a crate next to you.

Thump.

"Just give us the damn papers before things get ugly, you hear me?!"

You shook your head stubbornly.

"No! I worked hard on those, I will not let you have it!" You yelled.

They let out a sound of annoyance.

"Fine, I'll just do this the hard way then." They lifted the dagger up again, it's chilling glint underneath the desert moon made you shiver.

But you'd rather die than let them have it.

You closed your eyes, preparing for a moment of pain that never came.

A groan of pain echoed in your ears, and the sound of cold metal clashing made you open your eyes.

Sliver hair filled your vision along with flashes of purple lightning. You were dazed by its familiarity as a thought crossed your mind.

Cyno.

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That was a week ago.

Cyno told you that your expedition had lasted an extra week than you wrote in your letters. He went looking for you out of concern, and he had found your team and they told him that you disappeared overnight and that the group of Eremites that were terrorizing you and them.

You thanked him with dinner and a couple of rounds of TCG, which you lost, miserably.

And you managed to hand over your research papers to your professor before the deadline.

A win-win situation one might think, right?

Wrong.

Because when you get home from running some errands—

—most of your house was burned down.

All your equipment, your research books are half burned into a crisp.

You felt yourself holding back a scream.

No, this is not the time for an emotional breakdown. You ran inside what's left of your home, as you took whatever you could save in it.

Photo albums, important documents, your boxes of trinkets, anything.

You groaned softly as you cursed yourself for getting a place further out in the city in the first place.

By the sevens, who could be this cruel to do this?!

After a couple of hours, you salvaged quite some stuff. But you were glad that the box was unscathed from the fire, it held all of your precious trinkets that you kept growing up. Everything that they had given you.

You dragged your stuff into a cart that you kept in your yard and headed towards the city. Along the way, you passed by a certain blonde haired traveller who helped you with your other stuff that you hadn't managed to fit into the cart.

When you arrived, you managed to get yourself a place to stay for a while. And without wasting any time, you reported what happened to the Matra. They told you that they will open an investigation as soon as possible. You thanked them as you went back to the place you were staying.

Moments later, you heard a knock on the door, and you opened to find a worried Tighnari and also a serious-looking Cyno.

"Hey, we heard what happened, are you okay?" Tighnari asked you, his ears twitching slightly.

You nodded quietly, too tired to give him a proper response.

"I have some leads to who's the culprit that burnt down your house." Cyno said sternly.

You looked up, curious to hear his answer.

"The group of Eremites that terrorized your team a week ago might have been the ones that did it." He said.

You sighed defeatedly.

"Honestly, I was dreading that. Archons, I have no idea why they are coming for me and my work." You sighed, slumping on the bed.

Tighnari approached you and placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

"You should lay low for now. I suggest you find a safer place to stay, they may still be on the lookout for you." Cyno said softly, feeling quite sympathetic for you.

"You could stay with me? I'm sure Collei would be happy to see you again..?" Tighnari offered. His tail swished gently,as he looked at you with concern.

"I agree with Tighnari, you'll be safer staying with him." Cyno nodded.

"Meanwhile, I'll lead the investigation, I'll make sure the culprit will get the judgment they deserve." He added.

"Fine, I'll stay with 'nari. But only, until I repair my house." You said, sighing.

Both of them nodded in agreement, as you stood up to follow them to Gandharva Ville.

"Let me help you with your cart," Tighnari said, already holding on to it.

You thanked him, while Cyno informed the nearby Matra to gather information about the incident.

You hoped that this matter would be over soon.

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It's been a few weeks since then, whoever did the crime was insanely good at keeping their tracks clean, it even had the General Mahamatra stumped.

Yet, both Tighnari and Cyno did their best to help you take your mind off it, they didn't want to see you stress yourself sick.

You'd just been in your room, minding your own business, when you started to hear voices coming from the living room of Tighnari's house. You decided to go out to the living room to check out what was going on.

"Well, you see, it's funny because-" Cyno seemed to be explaining some dumb joke.

"Oh, archons! Stop with the terrible jokes already!" Tighnari groaned, but his ears perked up when he saw you enter the room. "Make him stop, please!"

"Cyno....please behave?" You whispered quietly, clearly exhausted from the house repairs the day before.

Cyno's playfully pouted, but he sighed and gave in to your gentle request.

"I suppose I can behave myself. For now, at least."

He smiles at you affectionately and then turns his gaze to Tighnari, whose eyebrows were furrowed.

"What's with that face, 'nari? Are you having a headache again?" You said worriedly, hastily approaching where he was sitting.

Tighnari nods slightly, a small frown appearing on his face. "Yes. It's been a long day. The headache seems to be getting worse every day. Archons, I wish they'd go away." He sighs quietly, his ear flicking down in displeasure as you move closer to him.

"Hmm....maybe you should take a break... I'll talk with the other rangers, Let me help you with the patrols for the week." You immediately offered, without even a stutter or hesitation.

Tighnari blinks his eyes in surprise at your eagerness to help. He shakes his head slightly, a small smile appearing on his face. A soft, affectionate gaze wanders over your face.

"No, no. I'll be alright. You know I'm tougher than I look," he tries to protest, but you can tell from his expression how much your offer means to him.

Cyno steps forward and places a hand on Tighnari's shoulder. "Come on, Tighnari. Take a break for once."

"See? Even the General Mahamatra agrees with me. So, just sit tight and rest. Let me handle the rest."

Tighnari sighs and looks up at you then at Cyno, then sighs again, giving in. A slight smile forms on his face as he looks back at you, clearly relieved.

"Alright, alright. I suppose I can take a few days off. But you better not overwork yourself," he relents, his tail flicking slightly.

Cyno smiles and nods affirmatively. "That's better. You look like you haven't slept in days," he comments as his hands gently brush back Tighnari's hair to examine his face.

"I promise I won't overwork myself. I can handle the patrols for a few days. Don't worry, 'nari. I'll be fine," You reassure him, offering a comforting smile.

Tighnari lets out a quiet sigh and closes his eyes, clearly exhausted, his ears slumping down a little.

"Alright, alright. I trust you. Just..." He reaches out and takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "Take care of yourself, okay?" Cyno watches the scene with a fond smile and adds. "Yeah, don't do anything reckless. We both know how you get when you don't take proper breaks."

"It's not really that bad, guys! I promise." You whined playfully, before patting Tighnari's shoulder.

"Let me go make you some herbal tea. I've acquired some new medicinal tea from Liyue from my pen pal." You said excitedly.

Tighnari smiles faintly as you pat his shoulder, his ears twitching slightly in appreciation.

"Thank you. That would be very helpful," he says quietly, clearly grateful for your offer.

Cyno, meanwhile, gives you a slightly teasing smile. "Yeah, sure. And maybe don't forget to take care of yourself, okay? We don't want you getting sick, too. You're not immune to everything either," he adds, his tone playful and affectionate.

"Says you, Mr. "Oh no, I have fallen ill because I refuse to wear proper clothing during cold desert nights!" Seriously, Cyno. You should let me knit you a blanket or something." You huffed as you started brewing the tea, filling the small space with a light jasmine scent.

Cyno groans quietly, a little embarrassed that you've brought up the incident again. His arms crossed defensively, but he can't help but chuckle.

"I'm fine with my clothes, thank you very much," he responds, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "Besides, I like the feel of the desert air against my skin. Even the cold is refreshing." Tighnari, meanwhile, chuckles softly at the exchange, his ears perking up in amusement.

He raises an eyebrow at Cyno, his tone lighthearted.

"You're always insisting that your immune to everything, but look at you. You're just as susceptible as the rest of us," he points out, a fond smile on his face.

Cyno sighs and chuckles, unable to argue with that.

"Fine, fine. I see your point. But... I still enjoy the cold air."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"Sit down, Cyno. I'm bringing the tea over." You called out.

Cyno sighs and obeys, flopping down on the couch next to Tighnari. His lips curled as he heard your lighthearted chuckle.

"I guess you're right," he admits, leaning back on the couch and stretching his arms. "But I'll still take my chances with the desert air. As long as you brew me some tea to help me when I get sick." Tighnari glances over at you, amusement is evident in his expression.

"The things I'd do for the both of you."

Cyno chuckles, a fond smile spreading across his face.

"And we appreciate it. We really do," he reassures you.

Tighnari nods in agreement, his expression softening. "You always take such good care of us, even when we're too stubborn to admit it," he adds, his tail flicking gently against the couch.

Cyno glances at Tighnari, then back at you, a grin spreading on his face.

"Yeah, you're practically a miracle worker. Always knowing when we need a helping hand, even when we're too proud to ask for it."

Tighnari laughs quietly and nods in agreement. "We're lucky to have you around. Who else would put up with our nonsense?"

"You're being too sweet, just drink the tea already!" You said softly, flushing slightly.

They both chuckled at your reaction.

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"This is delicious. You've outdone yourself this time," Cyno compliments you.

Tighnari nods in agreement, his expression softening as he takes a sip. "Yes, it's so soothing. You're quite a talented herbal tea brewer."

"Thanks, I'm just gonna leave you two to it. I have an appointment with Kaveh soon, so I need to prepare some supplies."

Cyno raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk spreading across his face.

"Kaveh, huh? What are you two getting up to?"

He takes another sip of tea, his tone lighthearted and playful.

"It's not what you think. I'm just going over my house plans with him. I'm repairing my house because a part of it got burned down, remember? The arson case a few weeks ago? The reason why I've been staying with Tighnari since then?"

Cyno's teasing expression quickly turns to one of concern.

"Right, of course. My apologies for teasing. I remember that case. How's the repairs going?" he asks you.

Tighnari nods in agreement and his ears perk up slightly as well. "Yeah, I hope you're not having too much trouble with the rebuilding," he adds, a hint of worry evident in his voice.

"Well, between having to acquire materials and trying to not break my back fixing it, I'd say it's going smoothly."

"I just hope that my savings are enough to cover for it. The prices of materials are insane." You sighed.

"But Kaveh has been helping out with finding affordable yet quality materials, so I think the repair would go as smoothly as I hope it to be," You reassured.

Cyno nods gently, relief is evident in his expression.

"Sounds like you're in good hands. Kaveh always has a knack for finding good deals. And as for your back, maybe you should take some breaks. Can't be overworking yourself with all this rebuilding," he teases lightly, a gentle smirk on his face.

"I know, I know, thank the Seven, Alhaitham offered to help me with my work, even if I didn't want him to, I could have perfectly done it myself,"

Tighnari nods in agreement, his ears perking up.

"Well, Alhaitham is somewhat of a difficult person to get along with sometimes, but I can't deny that he's quite considerate and helpful if the situation calls for it. Maybe he just wanted to return the favor you extended to him when you helped him in his research." He pauses for a moment, his expression softening. "But you should still take care of yourself. Don't overwork yourself, okay?" He adds, giving you a gentle look.

"I will. I'm going to head out now, so I'll see you tonight, 'nari and you later, Cyno." You said softly and waved the two of them goodbye.

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As you leave Gandharva Ville to meet up with Kaveh, Cyno, and Tighnari continue to chat in the living room over tea. Cyno shares a few jokes with Tighnari, who rolls his eyes but secretly smiles at the playful banter.

As night falls, the house feels a little emptier without your presence. Despite their easy-going demeanors, Cyno and Tighnari can't help but feel a slight sense of worry and longing for your return.

When you finally return home, the apartment is quiet. Cyno and Tighnari are just lounging around the living room. When they hear you enter, they perk their ears up slightly and look over at you. A wave of relief washes over both of them, and they can't help but smile at the sight of you.

Cyno greets you cheerfully as usual, while Tighnari gives you a gentle smile and a tail flick.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to run away from some angry group of Fungi on my way here." You said, catching your breath.

Cyno raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Angry Fungi? Sounds like quite the adventure. How many were there?" He asks, a serious glint in his eyes.

"A whole group of five huge Fungi. " You answered him.

Tighnari's expression softens and his ears twitch slightly. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt at all?"

You scratched your head bashfully, before looking at Tighnari.

"I might've....gotten a massive bruise on my back...."

Tighnari's expression immediately turns to one of concern upon hearing about your injury.

"Oh no... Let me see that bruise," he requests gently, taking a step closer to examine your back.

"I-I'm fine! I swear, 'nari!" You said hurriedly. taking a couple steps back.

"One of the Fungi headbutted me from the back while I was busy dodging the other ones."

Cyno raises an eyebrow at your insistence that you're fine.

"Headbutted, huh? You should be more careful. We can't afford to have you getting injured. Especially when we're not around to look after you," he remarks, his expression serious for a moment before his usual smile returns.

Tighnari's ears twitch, his concern still evident. "Regardless, let me just take a quick look to ease my worry," he insists gently.

"Fine, fine, just let me change into looser clothing first." You muttered.

Cyno nods in agreement, acknowledging your need for comfort.

"Alright, take your time. We'll be here when you're ready," he reassures you, his ear flicking a little. Tighnari gives you a reassuring smile and nods as well. "Yeah, no need to rush. Just take the time you need to change and then we can check your back. We want to make sure you're alright."

You quickly changed, and soon, Tighnari carefully guided you to the couch.

"How is it? Is it really bad?"

Tighnari examines your back, his fingers gently ghosting over the massive bruise that has formed there.

He winces slightly when he sees the extent of the injury but tries to maintain a calm demeanor. "It's a large bruise. You're going to have to take it easy for a few days to avoid aggravating it. I'll prepare some herbs to make a salve that can help speed up the healing process a little. In the meantime, try to avoid any unnecessary movement, okay?"

You sighed yet again. "I guess I have to postpone the repairs again....." You muttered under your breath.

Cyno overhears your muttered comment and his expression softens, sympathetic to your plight. He puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright. There's no rush. Your health comes first. We can figure out a way to handle the repairs later when you're feeling better."

Tighnari gives a nod of agreement and gently pats your back. "Yes, take it easy. Let us handle the repairs for now. You just focus on resting and getting better."

Cyno and Tighnari help you get comfortable on the couch, bringing you pillows and blankets to make sure you're as relaxed as possible.

Tighnari prepares a soothing salve to help reduce the pain and inflammation in your back, while Cyno grabs a cold pack from the freezer to press against the bruise.

They sit with you, keeping you company and making sure you're feeling alright. They chat with you softly, making lighthearted jokes and sharing stories to keep your mind off your pain.

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Eventually, Tighnari returns with the salve he prepared, and he carefully applies it to your back with gentle but firm movements.

As the salve works its magic, slowly reducing the pain and swelling, Cyno gives you a smile and speaks in a teasing tone.

"You know, maybe this is just what you needed. A little break to rest and relax. Maybe a few days off might not be so bad after all."

"But I was supposed to help you so you could take a break, 'nari!" You whined quietly, pouting.

Tighnari smiles at your pouting expression, amused by your stubbornness.

"I appreciate the thought, but sometimes life has other plans. Right now, the most important thing is for you to focus on recovering. Once you're back on your feet, you can help us all you want."

Cyno rolls his eyes playfully and adds in a joking tone. "Yeah, and speaking of being back on your feet, maybe you should try picking on smaller targets next time instead of those huge Fungi."

"It wasn't my fault they came on me in the first place, I don't even know why they were so irritated in the first place!"

Tighnari chuckles softly, trying to imagine you fending off a horde of angry Fungi.

"Fungi can be picky sometimes. And they tend to guard their territory fiercely. Perhaps you accidentally wandered into their turf without realizing it, and they took action accordingly."

"I was walking down the designated path to Gandharva Ville! The Fungi weren't there when I first passed by on my way to Sumeru City!!"

Cyno bursts out laughing upon hearing your playful defense.

"Ah, well, perhaps those particular Fungi took a sudden detour and decided to set up camp on your usual path without warning. Those mischievous creatures can be quite sneaky, you know," he teases.

"Whatever..." You groaned, voice muffled by your face planting into the pillow.

Tighnari grins at your reaction and gently pats your head.

"Don't be upset. We're just teasing. We know you did your best." He turns to look at Cyno, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Cyno, why don't you make it up to them with one of your jokes? That'll surely lift their spirits."

"Please don't, can't you see I suffered enough? You guys are bullying me, I swear."

"Oh, don't worry, we're not bullies. We just believe in the healing power of laughter!" Cyno says proudly.

He takes a moment to think, then grins wider. "Hey, what do you call a snake with no legs?"

"What is it?" You groaned.

"An adder. Get it? Because it's a snake, and it has been 'added' without legs? Haha!" He laughs at his own joke, clearly pleased with himself. Tighnari hides a small chuckle with a cough. They both look at you, eagerly awaiting your reaction.

"I hate you guys...."

Cyno laughs even harder at your response, clearly enjoying your reaction to his terrible pun.

"Oh, come onnnn. Don't be like that. You know you love my sense of humor." He says with a smirk.

Tighnari can't help but smile at your groaning. He reaches out to pat your head softly, trying to soothe you.

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As the evening progresses, Cyno and Tighnari keep up the light banter, sharing jokes and stories to keep your spirits up.

Slowly, you start to relax, the stress from your injury fading away as their company puts you at ease. The room is filled with laughter, and a comforting atmosphere settles in. Cyno tells another terrible pun, and even though you try your best to maintain a scowl, you can't help but let out a small chuckle.

Tighnari notices your slight smile and grins at Cyno, silently signaling him that their efforts are working. They exchange a sly, knowing look, grateful that you are starting to feel better.

As the night drags on, the room gradually falls silent as you doze off into a contented, healing slumber. Even after you fall asleep, Cyno and Tighnari take turns watching over you, making sure you're as comfortable as possible. They can't help but share a warm, fond smile, appreciating the peace and tranquility of the moment.

Your healing progresses in the following days, Cyno and Tighnari take turns caring for you. Tighnari diligently prepares meals and soothing herbs to help with your recovery, and Cyno occasionally comes by to offer his own unique way of making you feel better – by sharing yet another one of his terrible puns.

Despite your protests, Cyno's jokes never fail to crack a dumb smile on your face, and you find yourself secretly looking forward to his visits, just to hear those awful puns.

Eventually, your injury starts to heal as the days turn into weeks. Your pain and discomfort gradually fade away, and the bruise on your back begins to yellow before finally disappearing completely.

Tighnari examines your back once again, his fingers lightly tracing the area where the bruise used to be, before nodding in satisfaction.

"Yup, it appears that you have fully recovered. The injury has healed nicely, and there are no signs of pain or discomfort left."

Just as you're about to express your relief and thanks, Cyno chimes in with a dramatic sigh.

"Ah, it's a shame that you've recovered so quickly. I was already working on a new series of puns to keep the cheer going."

Cyno remarks, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Tighnari rolls his eyes but can't help but smile at Cyno's antics.

"Oh yes, because your terrible puns were an absolute cure for all our ailments. We simply would be miserable without them," Tighnari retorts, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Cyno pouts, feigning offense at Tighnari's words. "Hey, they weren't that bad! And besides, I had a whole new stockpile ready to go."

"Maybe, some other time, Cyno." You giggled.

"Spoil sport," Cyno grumbles, crossing his arms in mock disappointment, but a smile creeps onto his face at your laugh.

Tighnari lets out a lighthearted chuckle, shaking his head at Cyno's antics. They both sit quietly for a moment, enjoying the light banter and the relief of your full recovery.

You felt relief knowing that no matter what, come rain or shine, both of them would go to the ends of Tevyat for you as you would do for them as well.

But for now, let's just enjoy the tranquility of the moment, shall we?

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extras:

Tighnari: hey, I noticed that you kept the pictures of our student years in the albums you have in your cart.

Y/N: of course I did, they're really precious to me.

*Cyno come closer and picks up a picture.*

Cyno:....hey, when did you take this photo of me passed out on Lambad's Tavern, and...wait...DID YOU SERIOUSLY BALANCE PLATES ON ME?!

Y/N: ......yeah, i'm just gonna leave- *sprints*

Cyno: OH NO YOU DON'T- *runs after Y/N*

Tighnari: *dies of laughter.*

[so-long-soldier-writes]

The Agreement

kai parker x reader | requested by @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie back when i asked for fluffy prompts bc i was having a hard month

summary: helping kai adjust to a normal life has its ups and downs, but he, of course, always wins in the end.

tags: domesticity, adjusting to normal life, lots of comfort & cuddling, gemini coven lore, minor indirect mention of abortion where kai's being a dick, but he's mostly soft in this fic, bartender!kai, mentions of alcohol, minor bar fight, minor mention of assault, accidental murder, protective!kai, protective!damon, bonnie is kinda mean in this one, damon secretly wants to be friends with kai, angst & fluff ish

word count: ~9.9k

a/n: this is so cheesy and somewhat choppy but bare with me 😅

You, Damon, and Bonnie have made a deal. Neither will kill Kai, as long as you can help the witch settle into a new life in Mystic Falls. Those are the terms made, and boy, are they hard to get. 

“You can’t fix him, Y/N. He’s beyond fucked up,” Bonnie scoffs, “and I don’t want to be partly responsible if I were to make some crazy deal with you that goes wrong.”

“I just want him to try and have a normal life, Bon. He spent twenty years in an abusive household and another twenty years in isolation. He has no idea what normalcy is.”

“By the sound of that, he’s too far gone for you to even try.”

“Just give me a chance to work with him!”

“I don’t even like you being with him! He’s going to hurt you, and I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“I haven’t given him a reason to hurt me, Bon.”

“He doesn’t need a reason. He just does things.”

“Well, in that case, I’ve given him a reason not to hurt me. I’m the only one willing to try and help him adjust.”

“Y/N-”

“I see the point you’re making, Y/N,” Damon interrupts his best friend, “but are you really going to put all this work in for him? Seriously?”

“Yes! I don’t get why you guys are so against this. I’m helping you out; I’m giving you one less person to worry about that could raise hell in this town.”

“He already has-”

“Bonnie, please.”

“It would be easier to just kill him.”

“Bonnie!”

“Look at him! He’s plotting right now! No one is quiet for that long unless they’re plotting something.”

You sigh and turn to follow her gaze. Kai is sitting on a barstool, in the room of the boarding house that’s surrounded by windows, watching snow fall. 

“He’s just observing!”

“Sure he is.”

“And he’s probably trying to tune out this conversation, too. I’d be, if people were talking about me, and two of them wanted to kill me.”

Bonnie gives you a hard glare. 

“Four months,” Damon says suddenly.

“What?”

“You have four months to get him settled.”

“Don’t give me a deadline. It took you longer than four months to stop killing people when you got back to town. And the only reason you did is because Elena finally fell for you. But then every time she dumps you, you kill people again.”

“Thanks for the summary.”

“My point is, I might need longer than four months. I can start with the killing stuff first, teach him he can’t do that, but getting him on his feet might be some work.”

“Easy. Pull the chair out, he’ll figure it out.”

“Damon-”

“I know what you meant. Fine. Six months max. If he’s still (A) killing people, (B) in my house every time I come down for a cup of coffee, or (C) a complete and utter basket-case, by that time, then he’s,” Damon makes the gesture of a throat being slit, “done. No more killing, no more kidnapping, no more terrorizing. Got it?”

“Fine.” You roll your eyes at his insistent face. “Got it.”

“In return, I, nor Bonnie, will kill him unless you take longer or he goes off the rails.”

“You guys do you know you can’t kill him, right? If he dies, so does Jo, so does Liv. Alaric will never speak to you ever again.”

Damon hesitates, but Bonnie already seemed to have an answer to that prepared. “Don’t think I won’t toss him back into 1994, or make a new prison world entirely, if I need to.”

“Bonnie-”

“But if you think you have him under control, you don’t need to worry about that now, do you?”

You sigh, then look over to Kai. He’s still turned towards the window, but you don’t doubt he’s listening. “No, I don’t.” You straighten your posture. “And you won’t need to worry about him, either.”

“Alright, Ms. Confident,” Damon mocks, “guess we have a deal. You have six months to get that weasel somehow adjusted to real life, and we won’t kill him, or throw him in a prison world.”

“Nor will you antagonize him for fun, Damon, which I know you like to do.”

“I do not-”

“Mason Lockwood. John Gilbert. T-”

“Alright! Fine. Bonnie and I will stay out of your way while you work on your little project.”

“I’m going to prove to you he can be good. Just mind your own business while I do it.”

“Fine.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

Two minutes later, you gather Kai and hurry out the door.

“Did you hear all that?”

“Yeah. I’m on thin fucking ice.”

“Mhm.” You then grab his arm before he can slip on real ice right outside the boarding house. 

The pair gave you a rather strict set of rules to follow, and Kai’s surprised you didn’t give up on him just hearing the terms. He makes sure to thank you on your way to the Grill, where you’re headed for coffee. He hopes he sounds genuine, but still tends to struggle with that stuff sometimes. You, being the loving person you are, give him a smile and a kiss to the cheek in return. You then walk hand-in-hand to the restaurant, where you plan to carefully explain a few places you’ll help him start. 

Two coffees and a lava cake later, you catch his attention. 

“So, this is a bad example.”

“What do you mean?” He looks up at you, chocolate syrup dripping from the side of his lip. 

You reach out to wipe it off, then lick it off your own finger. Kai then wipes off the rest with his napkin, the little that you missed. He smiles at your lack of hesitancy to reach out to him. 

“It’s like, five o’clock-ish, and our dinner shouldn’t be dessert-”

“This is your influence. I fed myself properly when I was locked up.”

“Oh really?” You ask with a sarcastic tone.

“Yeah, actually, I did. And in fact, the first time I met you, you were in this very same seat, with Caroline, eating a lava cake.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Fine.”

He smirks at his win. 

“So you cook. You need somewhere to do it.”

“Like?”

“An apartment, maybe?”

“I can just move in with you.”

You bite your lip. You love Kai, but you’ve only been dating for three months. Of course, he’s spent days and slept over before, but it might be too early for the ‘moving in together’ stage. “You could,” you start, “or we could find you an apartment close-by. So you can get a little bit of autonomy, figure things out for yourself. Have a place to get away, if you need.”

“I don’t think I’d need to get away from you,” he chuckles. 

“I certainly hope you won’t, but, I don’t know, I think it’ll be good for you to have your own place. Just for a little while.”

“Do you not want to live with me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying! I’d love to, but it might be just a little too early for that. And I really think you’d benefit from having your own space. I’ll help pay rent for the first few months. Well, unless you want to go to college? Live in a dorm?”

“At Whitmore?”

“Anywhere.”

“But you live here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not in college.”

“No.” You’re not sure where he’s taking this.

“I don’t want to be away from you. I don’t even want to live away from you.”

“You live away from me now.”

“That’s different. At least in the boarding house, there’s people.”

“People who have no qualms about killing you, Kai. What’s this actually about?”

“I don’t want to be alone!” He finally admits. A few people look over from the shout, but you wave them off. “I was alone for eighteen years, I can’t take it anymore!”

“Kai, there are other people in apartments, too.”

“But not in the same room! They’re all in locked doors. I’ve seen plenty of shows. Besides, what if the time away makes you not want to be with me anymore?”

“What?!” You ask, genuinely surprised. 

“You’re the only person that cares about me. What if space apart makes you not?”

“Baby, that’s not going to happen. I’m not going to stop loving you just because you move into an apartment.” You lower your voice, recognizing your conversation has an audience of three old men. “We’re apart now,” you repeat, “and I still love you. A couple minutes apart, even less time than our distance now, isn’t going to change that.”

“I still don’t want to be alone, Y/N.”

“Tell you what… we’ll find you one in the same building that I’m in, maybe even the same floor. We’ll be two minutes apart at most. You can come find me at any time; I’ll give you a key.” You reach out to take his hand. “When we’re dating for longer, we can talk about moving in together, but for now, I really want you to try living on your own. Please? We have to prove to Damon and Bon that you can, or you know what they’ll do. Do it for me, so I can keep you safe, okay?”

Kai bites his lip. “Okay. Same floor.”

“I think the woman across the hall is moving out anyway.”

He nods. 

“Besides, I don’t want you too far from me, either.” You wink. “Who else is going to cook for me?”

He smiles at your first comment, but at the second, pushes your hand playfully. “See, you admit I can cook.”

“Never said you couldn’t!” You pause. “So that’s a definite ‘no’ on the college thing?”

He nods. “First of all, you wouldn’t be there. Second, I don’t care for the college experience that’s so hyped up in movies. Third, I’ve read thousands of books while being locked up. If I wanted to study one thing really intently, I either already have, or I would’ve.”

“Okay then.” Obviously, his mind is made up. “Sounds good.”

You both eat a few more bites of the cake, then he crinkles his nose. “I know you’re gonna say it sooner or later, so I might as well ask now… are you gonna make me get a job?”

The cynical look on his face makes you want to laugh, but you manage to hold it in. “Yep.”

“Crap.”

“It doesn’t have to be something crazy. Hell, you could work here. Be a bartender or something.”

“Do I have to work with people?”

“I thought you just said you want to be around people?”

“Not stupid people, though. Y’know, like the what-you-call-Karen types that would make me want to wring their neck.”

You chuckle. “Baby, that’s a type of person difficult to avoid. Any job is gonna have its fair share of annoying people. Unless you deliver mail, or something.”

“What’s that require?” 

“Valid driver’s license.”

“I have one of those.”

“Valid?”

“Made it myself, but it got me through airport security.”

You sigh. “Can you drive?”

“Yes. Taught myself.”

“Would you pass a test?”

“I don’t know. But I drove BonBon from Mystic Falls to Portland without killing her.”

“Lower your voice when you say stuff like that!” You warn again, waving off a man. 

Kai seems to ignore you. “Though half of that trip, we did fly…”

“You flew a plane?”

“Had eighteen years to learn!”

“Okay. Let’s get off this topic. You spend so much time in this grill, it might be a good place to start. As long as you show up, do your best, and don’t,” you lower your own voice, “spike people’s drinks for fun-”

“I would never!” He fakes offense.

“-I think you’d be good.”

The boy takes a sip of his coffee. “Fine. Just for you, I’ll try it.”

“Great! I’ll talk to Matt.”

“Ugh.”

“And don’t mention that you killed the manager, because they never found out who did that.”

“Noted.”

“And he’s besties with the Sheriff.”

“Great. You don’t want me to work here for an extra set of eyes on me, do you?”

“No, ‘course not. You’re my sole responsibility, I don’t want Matt involved at all. I just think you’d be a good bartender.”

“Okay.”

“And you like it here, so you might be more comfortable here.”

“What are the odds you could work here, too?”

“I have a job.”

“You could quit it and work here.”

“Kai…”

“Fine. Talk to Matt.”

“Okay.” You stand up to find the other boy. “Stay here.” You kiss his head as you pass him, then head to the bar. 

Kai stares into his coffee while you wait by the bar. He likes the Grill, but doesn’t know about working in it. The customers around him are often annoying, and he doubts his ability to remain patient with them. Still, you made a deal to keep him safe, and if his two little prison world friends are going to uphold their end, the two of you have to keep yours. He sighs, then turns to find you. You’ve caught hold of Matt, but as you seem to explain the situation, he rolls his eyes. Kai bites his lip. He has to make this work, for you, even if he doubts his own ability to fit into the world.

As you turn to look at him, he looks away abruptly. A minute later, you return to your seat. 

“How’d it go?”

“He’s gonna give you a chance… on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“If I’ll work here, too.”

The boy’s eyes light up. “Really? I thought you said I should do it myself.”

“Well then scratch that. It’ll be more fun together anyway.”

Kai smiles before growing serious again. “So apartment, job… anything else to cover?”

You’re quiet for a moment. There’s a lot more to cover, but you’ve just tackled two of the biggest factors when it comes to normalcy, and you don’t want to overload the poor boy. So instead of bringing anything else up, you shrug. “We can tackle it later. For now, let’s finish this cake.”

Grateful, he nods. He knows, not only from Bonnie and Damon, that there’s a lot more expected of him than just housing and working. He’s lucky he has someone that understands that. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you reply back. 

*****

For the next couple nights, Kai stays with you until you can secure a room for him in your apartment complex. Turns out Ms. Mary White had moved out just recently - wanted to find a complex with fewer stairs - and Kai would be able to move in by the end of the week. 

Of course, that process doesn’t come without its own issues. A key piece of information required for renting an apartment is proof of one’s identity. When Kai is asked to present his, he stares blankly at your landlord. 

“Uh, I think my father has it in the attic of my childhood home.”

“Well can you call him?”

“He probably burned it,” Kai mutters.

Your landlord’s eyes quickly widen at the same time yours do. Your boyfriend’s blunt honesty is quite fatal for the situation; your landlord does not need to know about his abusive childhood, nor the crimes Kai had committed over twenty years ago. One Google search could quite possibly open a whole can of worms you aren’t ready to contain. 

In the following two seconds after that, you dial Caroline’s number. 

Luckily, the vampire comes to your aid. She compels the man into forgetting both the conversation, and his need for any proof of identity. She seals his spot in the apartment, and simultaneously, in his new life. 

As Caroline then helps the two of you settle in, Kai catches her attention. 

“Why did you help me?”

The blonde faces him. “Well… for one, Y/N cares about you. If she sees good in you, and the ability to change, to be better, then I trust her. Two, I do owe you for helping my mom. She’s healing, slowly, ever since you siphoned the vampire’s blood out of her system, and I never fully thanked you for that. And third… I know someone like you. Someone who came to Mystic Falls, and wrecked absolute havoc, but for some reason, he had a soft spot for me. I was used in all of the plans they would make to distract or ‘neutralize’ him, and with time, it worked. He got better. He’s an ally now. A friend, even.”

“So Y/N is like you, and he’s kinda like me. You see that happening? You can see me getting better?”

“Klaus did.”

Kai swallows. It means a lot to hear someone other than Y/N have faith in him. “Thank you.”

“All I’m saying is prove them wrong. Damon’s an ass sometimes. And remember, he was the villain too, a while back.”

“I heard some stories from them back in the prison world.”

“Well they probably didn’t even cover half the stuff he did. Trust me, Damon has no room to judge.”

Kai nods. 

“Text me if you guys need help with anything else. Kai, good luck. Treat Y/N well.” With a smile, she’s gone. 

“Klaus,” Kai repeats.

“You’re not half as bad as Klaus,” you inform him, “killing-wise, I mean. That thing is a thousand years old and has killed probably five times more people than his age.”

“She said he got better.”

“He did. Still kills, obviously, but he is a friend to us now.”

He nods again, processing the information without replying. 

You spend the rest of the evening settling him in with the little stuff he has. Most of his belongings are clothes, and whatever else is either from 1994 or stolen somewhere along the way. You have some extra furniture in your apartment, and earlier that day, bought him a comforter. It’s enough to live, and he seems fine with it. Besides, you both know he’ll be in your apartment most of the time, anyway. 

*****

A couple days after that, you start your new jobs at The Grill. You’re only part time, considering you’re already a dedicated employee elsewhere, and Matt’s fine with that as long as you “watch him” at least most of the time. The boy is clearly not excited about the reformed serial killer joining his work team, but at the same time, Matt’s not one to turn down anyone looking for a fresh start. 

At first, he keeps Kai in the back, away from people. A smart move while he still adjusts. He’s mostly tasked with filling drink orders and cleaning up, and only after he’s been working in the restaurant environment for a week is he actually allowed to hand people their orders. So far, he’s incident-free, but you can tell Matt is just waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

His heart almost stops the day he sees Damon enter on a day he has Kai serving drinks.

Matt rushes to the back, trying to find you to take over before the vampire can saunter over to the bar. 

“Bourbon. Neat.” Damon says to no one in particular. 

Kai swallows hard at the sound of the man’s voice, but then stands up to pour him the drink. As he passes the glass to him, Damon’s attention turns from the distant game of billiards to the unidentified bartender. 

“Oh.” He blinks in surprise. “It’s you.”

“Yep, I am working here now.” Kai enunciates every word, still in disbelief that he does. 

“Gotta say I’m shocked. Had any urges to kill anyone yet?”

“No, it’s been mostly tame. There was one lady the other day who was so drunk, she fell out of her chair, but that was more amusing than anything else.”

Damon snorts. Part of him wishes he could have witnessed that, but he’ll be damned if he admits that to Kai. “And her inconsiderate ways didn’t have you tempted to toss a glass at her head? Maybe you are improving.”

Kai bites his tongue. He knows Damon’s just trying to get under his skin, and the bar is too busy for him to react. Besides, one wrong move and the vampire will call off their deal.

Luckily, a heartbeat later, you pop around the corner from the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Your little pet served a drink.” He takes a sip. “Ten points to Slytherin for getting my order correct.”

“Be nice, Damon. I’ve never seen you attempt to get a job.”

“Why would I need a job? I’m a vampire, if you haven’t forgotten. I don’t need money, and I don’t need to buy food-”

“Because you just eat people? Right. And you do buy food, let me remind you, and drinks, on a daily basis, which requires money. But since your nephew - whom you killed - was rich, you don’t need to work for anything. So no, you don’t need a job, but if you were born into a less rich family, you’d certainly need to, to support your hobbies.”

“Touché.” 

You shrug. “I’m just sayin’.”

Damon glares at you, sips the rest down in one gulp, then spins the glass back to Kai. “Refill.”

Knowing you’ve won, you give your boyfriend a kiss to the cheek as he pours another glass. You’re halfway back to the kitchen when Damon clears his throat,

“I could report you for PDA.”

“Try me.”

He doesn’t. 

That night, you praise your boyfriend for keeping his cool under the unexpected presence of Damon. Truth be told, you hadn’t even considered the man’s frequency at the restaurant when you spoke out for Kai to work there; you only thought about where he’d be most comfortable. Kai admitted he started pushing buttons, but your interference diffused the situation immediately. You give him a kiss, then snuggle into his chest, legs over his as you sit in his lap. Kai grabs you before you can get too comfortable, turning your cuddling into a make-out session. Unlike his shift at the bar earlier, things escalate pretty quickly. 

*****

Weeks pass of coaxing Kai into a normal life. He’s doing well despite the cards handed to him, and you’re sure to tell him how proud you are each night. There have been a few instances where he’s yelled at customers who’ve yelled at him, and then he had to muster up an apology to them. On two occasions, you’ve traded places with him, seeing either Damon or a crowd of college kids approaching the bar. But though he’s had a few mistakes, he’s received compliments, too. 

One woman, a regular, and very picky about her cocktails, told him she’s impressed with his ability, especially given his age, and that he makes some of the best drinks she’s had. She always leaves a good tip, and has made sure to tell the manager what she said to him. 

Kai only gave a dimpled smile and a polite, “thank you,” and decided not to tell her he’s actually in his forties, and had nothing better to do for eighteen years than craft cocktails. 

“See,” you then said to him, “I knew you’d be a good bartender. I didn’t even know you could make cocktails.”

“I couldn’t tell if she was hitting on me by the end of the night,” is all he replies. 

You scrunch your eyebrows, but then widen your eyes at the fifty percent tip. “Yeah, maybe just a little.”

*****

As much progress as he’s made, he’s not done yet. Kai’s had about three months of getting on his feet, and now he has to address a big issue that both of you have been avoiding. On a calm night neither of you had work, you decide it’s now or never to bring it up. 

So, laying across his lap again, you fiddle with the ring on his finger as a show you’re half-watching runs in the background. Tension builds in your shoulders as you try to form a good question. Within minutes, he can tell something’s up with you. 

“What?”

“I have something to say, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“Spill.”

“So… You’ve fought hard against the fate chosen for you by your father. He didn’t think you were capable of leading the coven, so he cast you out. Made you feel like you were less of a person; of a witch, because of the way you were born.”

“Point?”

“Against all odds, you came out on top. You broke down the barriers, literally and physically, and became the leader. Now,” you pause, “you gotta lead.”

Kai swallows as if he hadn’t anticipated this aspect of his choices. That, or he never expected to get this far, and therefore, never thought about any way he’d do it. “I am,” he finally says.

“How?” 

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“You’re telling me your father never had any specific duties he’d have to perform as leader? No responsibilities? No expectations? Nothing?”

“He had to find a wife and have a set of twins.”

“Kai-”

“I know what you mean,” he sighs. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to lead a coven! What the hell do they do? Do I have to feed them? Give them water?”

“They’re not plants, Kai. Th-”

“I know!” He pauses the TV, but luckily doesn’t try to get off the couch. “But I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that myself. I saw my dad do some of it; he’d go to meetings, and set the standards, and was there to congratulate every stupid baby ever born-”

“Kai,” you warn. 

“Sorry. I just… they hate me. How am I supposed to lead them when they hate me, and frankly, I hate them, too.”

“You’re just gonna have to do your best. Don’t do exactly what your father did, but use his leadership as a guideline - whether that's what to do or what to not do, that’s your choice. Try to co-exist with them, and follow whatever rules are absolutely required.”

He bites his cheek. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” You kiss the side of his face he’s biting to make him let go. “I told you before, I’m always gonna be here for you. If that includes helping you make decisions in regards to your crazy coven, then so be it.”

*****

You’ve never seen anyone from his coven aside from his immediate family, so seeing more of the group that you’d ever anticipated was terrifying, to say the least. The whole plane trip across the country, you’re both having trouble sitting still. As he consumes mini pretzels at an abnormal rate, your tapping foot is probably peeving the passengers around you. Still, he tries his best to prepare you for what den of lions you’re about to face. 

“So… meetings are usually just comprised of “elders” and their wives, plus anybody else deemed important enough to attend, or anyone who has something important to share. The elders are the decision makers, and now that includes my dad - elderly, and a past leader.” You snort at his choice of word, but then remember Kai’s actual age and realize the man probably is elderly. “So he’ll certainly be there. Jakob’s had it out for me since day one. I’m assuming he’s still alive, and he’ll be filled with piss and vinegar to see me in person. Leon’s fine. He carries the siphon gene and hasn’t had children because of it. His great uncle is rotting in a prison world somewhere, and I only know that from reading the journals from when I was in ‘94. Patrice is… unimportant,” he says, not knowing what else to say about her. 

“Jeez… is anyone in your family actually pleasant?”

“My Aunt Maisie.”

“Oh, so one person.”

He nods. “She’s where Jo got ‘Laughlin’ from. You’d think if she was trying to hide from me, she wouldn’t pick the one name I’d immediately recognize.” He doesn’t say anything else on the matter, but there’s clearly more to it. You don’t push. His childhood isn’t something he wants to relive, and going to this meeting is doing exactly that. Instead, you change the topic.

“So I got us a hotel for the night, and a flight back the next morning. Partly because I know you don’t want to be here, and to be honest, I don’t want to be here, either. And, partly, because when you took off yesterday to prepare for this stupid thing, Matt texted and said Jenny missed your cocktails.”

The comment makes him smile. Even though the grill regular definitely flirts with him most nights, he’s come to enjoy her presence. 

“Though I told him you’d need tomorrow night off, too, because this is going to be mentally draining, on top of the plane trip that crosses several time zones. And maybe Saturday, also.”

“Thank you,” he says genuinely, relieved that you understand him in such a way. He leans over to kiss you five seconds before the plane hits turbulence. 

*****

On top of the four elders Kai mentioned, his father included, six others were also in attendance. Three were present when he was a kid, though Kai deemed them of lesser importance - they’d rarely speak, and usually only vote - and three had been elected sometime post-1994. He knows them from biannual gatherings and special occasions, but had never really spoken to them. And that reason is, of course, because he was rarely allowed out of his room for those occasions. 

When he first enters the room and meets their eyes, small chatter fades to complete silence. Breaths are held as they look the boy up and down. They stare at him, then at you, and a little at your clasped hands. One-by-one, they address him, all by his full name, making his eyes twitch. 

Joshua is the last of the elders to greet the new leader, being the most recent to join the council. He looks down disapprovingly before finally spitting a welcome. 

“Where’s A-” Joshua turns on his heels and walks away before Kai can ask the question.

His sister then stands before him. “Aunt Maisie passed away in ‘99.”

Kai’s throat dries. “Why are you here?”

“I’m carrying the next set of twins, of course I’d be here.”

You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. He bites back a reply, but you can feel the anger coursing through his body. 

Nothing important happens in the actual meeting. Jakob, as Kai predicted, shouts most of the time at no one in particular. Everyone knows he’s mad at Joshua, though, and you later learn that he originally wanted to kill the siphon boy at a mere eight years old. This time, Kai squeezes your hand to calm you. 

A couple minutes is spent talking about the future of the coven. Patrice points out that although Jo is pregnant, her husband isn’t the leader. Something in her tone hints that the leader’s girlfriend should be the one to be pregnant and to bear the next set, but she’s instantly overridden by everyone shushing her about not wanting to continue the siphon, nor Kai in particular’s, direct bloodline.

In summary, you and Kai flew all the way to Portland just to be annoyed for three hours. That night, you cuddled him on the hotel bed, massaging your hands through his hair. He put up a strong, confident front to prove his ability to lead, but melted the moment you coaxed him into your arms in the privacy of the room. He’s quiet for a long time, and you’re the one that finally breaks the silence. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

His shoulders relax but tone hardens. “Why?” He wants to believe you, but doubts himself so much that he can’t yet. 

“Because you stood up to them by coming here. You’re making an effort to prove your worth to them. Not like you should have to do that, but they’re a bunch of assholes who think you do. But regardless of that, too, it took a lot of strength to face the people who’ve done nothing but cause you pain. You handled both Jo’s and Jakob’s hostility well.”

He exhales, racing mind beginning to ease. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course. Thank you for braving this step and showing them you’re more than capable to lead.”

“They’ll never think I am.”

“That doesn’t matter. They have no say in it; you’re already doing it.”

“For twenty-two years. Until whatever is germinating in my sister’s womb pops out.” 

You bite your cheek to keep from laughing. His back rests against your chest, though, and there’s no way he didn’t feel at least a chuckle. “Well then that means we have twenty-two years to figure out something else instead.”

“Pennyroyal tea?”

“No!” You say quickly, unsure if he’s joking or not. “I mean more like, I don’t know, whatever that one woman was saying.”

It takes him a moment, but then his eyes narrow. “You want to have twins?”

“Better me than Jo to have the set that will eventually take over. Even if I’m a couple years behind, they’ll have to accept the current leader’s set over his sister’s, right?”

Kai shrugs, having no idea. It sounds true, given what was hinted before the elder was shushed, but he doesn’t know. Regardless of the answer, he sighs. “You wouldn’t want that kind of tie to my coven.”

“I’m dating you, I kinda already have it.”

“Yeah, but that level of ‘in it’ is something you can’t get out of.”

“I’d do it for you.”

He swears his heart stops. You would marry into his coven and produce a set of in-line twins just for him. Kai is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you’re dating him, not to mention you’d suffer a coven meeting for him, but to also go that far… just because you love him? He can’t process it.

He wonders… maybe, he misheard you. “Did you say-” When he turns to face you, he realizes you’ve fallen asleep. Your hands remain to hold him, though you’re no longer playing with his hair. He watches your breathing for a moment, still bewildered. At some point, though, his racing mind and tired eyes drive him to exhaustion, and he finally falls asleep in your arms. 

*****

Joshua’s presence at your terminal prevented you from never mentioning the conversation, as you were already late to catch your plane. The salt and pepper haired man had a few last, weak words for his son, as he tried to thank him for attending the meeting, but still shame him for winning the merge at the same time. When he made a spiral hand gesture in search of the right thing to say for the fifth time, you snapped your fingers to speed up the process, and finally then did he spit out something half-meaningful. You got on your plane with two minutes to spare and had, for the time being, completely forgotten about your earlier talk. 

*****

You’re nearing the fifth month mark in your agreement with Damon and Bonnie, but to be honest, you aren’t worried about it one bit. They have no reason to punish Kai; he’s done nothing but make good progress since the deal was made.

That is, until one night at The Mystic Grill goes horribly wrong. 

*****

A rather impatient series of knocks has you opening the door with your eyes rolling. 

“What now?” You swing it open, expecting the pizza man. The last time, the man was so terrified of the neighbor’s dog that was barking, he was quick to hand it over and leave, forgetting his tip in the process. “I promise, the dog isn’t getting out. He’s just-”

Instead, Damon stands on the other side. “What dog? I’m not-”

“No.” You try to close it, but he stops it with his foot. 

“Wait, Y/N.”

“What do you want?”

“Can’t just check up on a friend?”

“I still have time to work with Kai. And for your information, he’s doing great. We don’t need your commentary.”

“I’m just curious.” He tries to look past your shoulder into the room. “Where is the little weasel?” Unfortunately, he spots him on the couch and offers a wave. 

“He has his own place down the hall, we’re just having dinner together. Got a problem with it?”

“Kai Parker has his own apartment? Wow!”

“Shut up, Damon. And why are you really here?”

“Jo told Alaric, who told me, that Kai’s been going to coven meetings lately.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Just seeing if it’s true! So what made him go?”

“He’s the leader; he’s taking up the responsibility. Like a leader does.”

He scoffs. “No influence from you?”

“Of course I’m helping him, but I’m not making decisions for him.”

“Really? This apartment, a job at the grill, being there for his family, that’s not you telling him what to do?”

“If didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t. I don’t know if you know him, but Kai doesn’t do anything unless he wants to. Sure I’m guiding him, but he has the ultimate say in all of these decisions.”

“Yeah, except if he doesn’t follow the rules, we’re gonna kill him.”

“If you can catch him,” you challenge, “because if Kai decides he doesn’t want this life, I’m prepared to run with him.” You watch Damon’s face before continuing. “But the thing is - he does. He does want to fit in, and he does want his life to have meaning, and he doesn’t want to waste it. Contrary to what you all think, he’s really trying to start something here.” Damon stares at you. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d butt out and go away.”

The man clicks his tongue, but then ultimately leaves. “See you later, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you mutter, joining him on the couch.

“You didn’t mention the guy at the bar.”

“Didn’t seem relevant. Damon makes mistakes, too.”

“What if he finds out?”

“I won’t let him hurt you. You’ve been making such good progress; you’ve been a downright angel most of the time. One bar fight in my defense isn’t going to erase all that.”

“Y/N, I killed him. He’s going to send me back to a prison world. I can’t go back there.”

You take his shoulders gently and pull him down into your lap. “He’s not going to hurt you, Kai. I promise. Rest your little head, okay?”

He nods. “And you’re sure you’ll leave with me if it comes to that?”

After the incident, he had a meltdown, fearing for his life, and almost preparing for Bonnie to burst through the door and send him away. You promised that if she were to come for him, you’d abandon this life and run with him, even if that dissolves the terms of your agreement with the pair. You had then admitted, too, that if Kai decides he doesn’t adapt well to domestic life, even without the incident that had occurred, you’re prepared to leave with him. Damon knowing that little contingency plan probably wasn’t the best, but you doubt the man believes you anyway. 

“Of course. I promise.” You assure him. 

*****

At nearly midnight, one week later, you hear a banging across the hall. After a moment, you poke your head out and see Damon at your door.

“The fuck do you want?”

“I thought this was your door?”

“I’m with Kai.”

“Ooh, in his apartment?”

“Did you think I was lying?”

He shrugs. “A little.”

“What do you want, Damon?”

He comes up to you with a piece of paper in his hand. He reads, “obituary of forty-two year old Patrick Johnson. Died in a bar fight last week. Split his head against the countertop. No arrests have been made,” he looks up, “happened at the grill.”

“So?”

“Sound familiar?”

“No arrests have been made.”

“Well I didn’t do it. Stefan didn’t do it. It could’ve only been Enzo, or your little “reformed” sociopath in there, and I think we both know who’s to blame.” You roll your eyes. “It’s easier to just tell the truth, sweetheart.”

“So what if it was? What are you gonna do? You’re not invited in; you can’t touch him.”

“Just tell me what happened, Y/N.” He makes a push against the boundary, but it doesn’t budge. “Look, Bonnie hasn’t seen this yet. Just tell me, and I can make it go away.”

“Why would you do that?”

“The goodness of my heart?” You snort. “Come on, Y/N.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I can go show this to her then,” he points his thumb in the other direction, “because I can promise you who she’ll point the first finger at, and considering Enzo’s been so busy sticking his nose in my brother’s business lately, odds aren’t in your favor.”

You hesitate. “Fine.”

Kai watches from the couch with bated breath. Damon gives him a little wave as he notices him. “Hello, Malachai.” You glare at the man, who then half-apologizes. “Sorry. Explain.”

 “There was a fight one night when we weren't working. Matt wasn’t working either. Kai had nothing to do with starting the fight, but unfortunately, we were sitting right in the middle of it. We got up to leave, but then some man grabbed me and reached down my shirt, and Kai lost his cool.”

“Details, please.”

“He pushed him into the bar but the man kept fighting back. He spit in Kai’s face and made attempts to pull at his clothes. All the while, yelling all this shit about what he wanted to do to me, screaming profanities. Made comments about other women, too, but when he specified that he had been watching me all night and was waiting for Kai to leave, Kai pushed his head down into the countertop. He still fought. After a couple of blows to the counter, we heard a crack. It wasn’t his fault, Damon, don’t hurt him, please.”

The man stares for a moment, then at Kai. “Y’know… I’m surprised you even made it this far. I had no faith in you.”

“Damon-”

“But, I have to say, I’m impressed by your progress. Y/N here wants you to be better, and clearly you love her enough to be better for her.”

“He’s doing it for himself, too, Damon. All he’s ever wanted is to be accepted, and-”

“Save the speech. I admire the progress you’ve made, and I’d honestly hate for all of Y/N’s hard work to go to waste. Now, Bonnie hasn’t seen this yet, and you’ve toned down your menacing almost one hundred percent, and I can agree that this incident isn’t your fault. So, if you promise not to repeat it, and don’t ever speak a word of this to Bonnie-”

“She doesn’t even talk to me anymore.”

“-we don’t have to let her know it happened. I’ll go Liz, clear your name from it. She can put the blame on someone else or claim it was an accident. Just tell me that you won’t let this happen again.”

Now you’re the one staring at Damon, wide-eyed with surprise. “I-I promise.”

Kai nods, agreeing. “I didn’t mean to get in a fight, and I certainly didn’t mean to kill him. I just couldn’t let it go and he wouldn’t stop.”

“I’d do the same if it were Elena. Hell, I’d do it for Y/N, too. What’s one less douchebag in this world?”

The boy half-smiles. “Hey, Damon?”

“What?”

“If Bonnie does find out, or if she has a suspicion, what do we do?”

He shrugs. “Tell her what you told me. He wouldn’t stop. It was an accident. You were protecting Y/N.” Damon looks at you. “I know you two used to be close, so even if she’s mad about it, she’ll understand. I won’t let her do anything in terms of the agreement, I’ll, as Elijah always says,” he says with a smirk, “keep my word. And hey, you might even win brownie points for defending her.”

“Thank you.”

“Just don’t let it happen again. Next time someone starts shit, call me to compel them away, or call Liz.”

“Okay,” you reply.

“Speaking of compulsion,” he adds, “how’d you get this apartment?” 

You’re quiet for a moment, then admit, “Caroline helped.” He laughs. “Don’t tell Bonnie.”

Damon puts his hands up as if to surrender. “Not a peep.”

“She said I remind her of someone named Klaus,” Kai offers. 

“Ah. Yes! Baby Klaus.”

You shake your head, offended. “Not at all!”

“I’m kidding!”

“You’re a jerk.”

“All kidding, sourpuss. Alright, off to Liz.”

“Thank you again.”

“Hm. Be good.”

The death was ruled an accident the next day. 

*****

Six months on the dot, Damon summons you and Bonnie back to the boarding house to rule if Kai can stay, or if Bonnie can boot him back to a prison world. The boy is nervous, despite you promising him he has nothing to fear. If anything, she should be the one anxious, upset she can’t go through with her little plan to trap him again. 

The two of you show up right on time, and to your surprise, Elena’s the one to open the door. 

“Hi,” she smiles. You two haven’t seen much of each other lately. Bonnie’s been adamant about her friends avoiding both you and The Grill, and many of their nights have been spent at the Scull Bar instead. 

“Hi,” you greet her back. Kai gives her a smile, too, but nervousness twitches at the tip of his lips. 

“I’ve been seeing the other Parker so much, it’s refreshing to see a different one,” she references Liv and her salty-ass attitude. “Hey, Damon’s said you make a mean cocktail. Put it to the test?”

Damon’s been keeping a secret eye on Kai and reporting everything back to his girlfriend. She wants to believe he’s changed, Caroline, too, and asks the question as a small way to test it. When he gives her a more confident smile and steps inside the house, she takes it as a good sign. 

You follow them inside. 

“Y/N!” Damon welcomes, arms open wide. He pulls you into an unexpected hug, but then whispers in your ear, “careful, she’s bitter.” The hug suddenly makes sense, and you thank him for the warning before hugging back. “And where’s the little weasel?”

“In the kitchen with Elena. She wanted a cocktail.”

“Ah. I may have told her he’s built up a little fanbase at The Grill. Jenny the Drunk is no longer his biggest tipper.”

“So I’ve heard. All the milfs want my man.”

“Well, he is closer in age to them than you.”

“Shut up.”

“Y/N,” Bonnie’s voice interrupts your banter. She smiles at you from afar, eyes clouded with mixed emotions. 

“Hi,” you reply with a similar tone. Not cold, but not exactly warm, either. “How’ve you been?”

“Okay. Been studying a lot. Been helping Jo with… I’ve been busy.”

You nod. “She’s close.”

“Yeah. You know?”

“She stopped coming to meetings.”

“Meetings…?”

“Coven meetings. They’re in Portland, so we have to fly, and she’d always be there, too.”

“You’ve been going to coven meetings?”

“Kai’s the leader, he kinda has to.”

She gulps, as if not expecting him to be so productive in the six month time span. Before she can say anything else, though, Caroline comes out of nowhere with a bright yellow cocktail and a bendy straw. 

“Mhm! You have to try these, they’re so good! Who’d think Kai could make such a good tropical drink? I wouldn’t until thirty seconds ago.”

You laugh. “Where’d the bendy straw come from?”

She shrugs. “Found them in the cupboard, probably Damon’s secret stash. Bonnie, you want to try?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She retreats back to the kitchen, promising she’ll bring you one. 

“Did he learn that skill at The Grill? Matt taught him?”

“He learned in the prison world. They only had to train him on the more modern drinks.” She doesn’t answer. “He’s really been trying. Not only trying, but doing really well.”

“What about-”

“Guys, come in here! Damon’s summoning you,” Caroline calls. 

You share one more glance and then follow her voice to the kitchen. 

“Decision-making time,” Damon announces, fighting with his tongue to find his straw. 

“Preferably before we get drunk,” his girlfriend agrees. 

Bonnie looks less than thrilled. “This agreement was made between Y/N, Damon, and I, and only the three of us will actually be making the decision.”

Her slight attitude makes the room silent. 

Caroline’s the first to speak up. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Thank you, Caroline.” The girl looks back down at her drink. She made input to keep the peace, not to argue on the behalf of one side or the other. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You mentioned Kai’s been going to Gemini meetings. Anything else he’s done?”

“Yeah, well, we started with the apartment, then the job. Felt like The Grill would be a good place since he was a regular, and that he’d be comfortable there. With time, I helped him ease into his coven role, and we go to Portland monthly for meetings. Nothing important ever really happens, they all just argue.”

“You mentioned you’ve seen Jo. She’s around eight months now. That hasn’t been a problem?”

“She wasn’t at the last meeting. Her father said he nor Rick wanted her flying. And no, it hasn’t been a problem.”

“He’s not worried about the next set of twins taking over in twenty years?”

“We’ve discussed it, but no, it’s not a problem.”

“What do you mean ‘discussed it’?”

“That’s actually none of your business, Bonnie. The only people who should be concerned with that are those in the Gemini coven, and considering you’re not, you don’t have the right to ask. And, actually, Jo got pregnant and engaged without even consulting her coven, too, so frankly, that business only belongs to Kai and I.” She blinks, not used to being told off so directly. “We’re not concerned about Jo, nor the twins. Besides, that’s over twenty years away, and not worth worrying over right now.”

“Fine. So he’s adapting well?”

“Yes.”

“Bonnie,” Damon starts, “I know we were skeptical, but I think they’ve proven us wrong-”

“One more thing.” You gulp, knowing exactly where she’s headed. “A couple months ago, I read an article where a local bar fight turned deadly. The man’s death was ruled an accident. Do you know anything about that?”

“That was-”

“And don’t you dare lie to me because we both know-”

“I wasn’t going to lie,” you snap back. “If you’d let me talk, I could explain.”

“Oh, so you do know about it? I want to hear it from him,” she nods to Kai. 

Kai’s nervously chewing his lip. When you give him a gentle tilt of your head, he begins to explain. “Okay, yes, that was me. I was defending Y/N. I-”

“We told you no more killing people. The deal’s-”

“Let him explain, Bonnie,” the vampire interrupts.

“You’re defending him?!”

“Just hear him out first.”

Kai looks to Damon, then back at the girl. “The guy got physical with Y/N. He was yelling all this profane shit about her and grabbed at her shirt. When I got in the middle of them, he started hitting at me, and spitting. Every time I tried to shake him off, he’d come back for more. It was a complete accident; I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“So you did kill him.”

“Did you not hear me? I said it was an accident; he was trying to get to Y/N. I wasn’t going to let him touch her.”

“Think about it, Bonnie. If you were there, you would’ve given him a magical headache, and if his brain burst, oh well! The only difference is that Kai didn’t use magic. If anything, it’s better that he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I’m still confused. Why are you defending him? And why do you seem to know about this?!”

“I did know about it, okay? And I’m sorry for not telling you, but this is why. He was defending Y/N and I can’t blame him for that. C’mon, Bon. You’ve always been worried about her getting hurt, but he keeps her safe. It’s crazy, even for me to admit, but he does.”

“So you’re okay with him staying? You’re serious?”

“Look, he hasn’t been bothering us. Hasn’t been bothering Jo. This is the only person he’s killed and it was in Y/N’s defense. He makes great cocktails. Let’s just put this whole thing behind us.”

“Bonnie, I’ve missed your friendship these last couple months, and if you give Kai a chance, you’ll see he’s really put in a lot of effort into building a life here.”

She glares at the both of you, then back at him. She even looks to her friends for support. They shrug. “Fine.” She holds up a finger, “but if he falls back into old ways, he’s gone.”

“Thank you, Bon.”

Kai offers his thanks as well, and a second later, you jump at the feeling of his lips on the back of your neck. He apologizes for startling you, but then wraps his arms around your waist. Bonnie watches, both at how unafraid you are of him, and how in love he is with you. She fights the urge to smile, wanting to keep up her cold exterior for a little longer. 

After some time, plans are made to get together for real. There’s a lot of work to be done in rekindling your friendship, but you’re on the path to getting there. As for her negative feelings about Kai, she’s just going to have to see his change for herself. 

*****

That night, you’re curled in bed together when something suddenly harbors in his mind. He hesitates for a moment, unsure if he wants to bring it up; if you even remember it happening, but then curiosity begins to fester in him. 

“Can we talk about something, Y/N?”

“What’s that?”

“I was reminded earlier, when you were talking about Jo to Bonnie… in the hotel room after the first meeting, did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“What you said about, like, having twins? That you’d do it for me?”

You backtrack your mind several months to that conversation. It happened a little like this one - you holding him, him being a little weary about the day’s events. Ah. “Yes.”

He perks up. “Yes, you remember it, or yes, you meant it?”

“Both. I do remember that conversation. And yes, I would give you a set of twins if you wanted to keep your bloodline in the leadership.”

“Why?”

“Why?” You repeat his question, glancing at him to see if he’s serious. His face is riddled with confusion - definitely serious. “Because I love you. And they might have doubts about you, but I have faith in your ability to lead, and I believe you’d be a good father, too.”

Now he crinkles his nose. “Why?”

“Well the man who raised you barely did at all. He isolated you, and hurt you, and treated you like crap just because you were born differently. And despite that, and despite a few bumps along the way, you’ve proven you’re capable of deep, gentle love. You prove it to me daily, and you’ve proven patience at your job and with Bonnie, and understanding. You’ve managed to survive despite the circumstances you’ve been given, and all those things are traits I know you would teach a child, because you’d do everything to prevent raising them like your father raised you; to make sure they grow up in a loving environment, like one you should’ve been given. And, you’d teach them how to survive in this coven, because unfortunately, as leader, you’re still tied to them, but you would teach them how to remain strong. And even if we ever happen to have twins and they’d need to merge, you’d still make sure their lives are meaningful before it.”

Kai’s quiet for a while. “If we did that, I wouldn’t want it just for the benefit of the coven. It would be out of my love for you, and if we have a desire to have kids. Not like Jo, where it was an accident, but not like my father, who only needed a leader.”

You kiss his head. “I agree.”

“So you would be okay with that? If we did, at some point?”

“Of course. When the time comes for that, we can talk about it more, but yes.”

“Good, because I’m not ready now.” He relaxes, but then stiffens again. “But wait, Jo… if we’re trying to beat her to this, don’t we need to do it now?”

You choose your next words carefully, unsure if they even hold any meaning. “Well… if I’m understanding it correctly, the leader’s twins would be next in line, regardless if there’s another set in the family. So even if Jo’s are, say, nine or ten, if we have a set, wouldn’t they be next in line?”

“But they don’t want to continue my line because of the siphon gene.”

“Yes, but you’re still the leader, so maybe we can argue that when the time comes. Besides, we can’t do anything about it now. She’s eight months and I’m, obviously, not even in the same playing field.” You rub his arm comfortingly, or at least, hoping it’ll bring him comfort in light of your next few words. “Maybe… okay. First off, I don’t think Jo wants to participate in the merge with her future kids. She’s already tried to escape this family once, I doubt she wants her kids brought back in it. So maybe if we have a set, she’ll just let them take over.”

“But she might merge them just to prevent my line from continuing in leadership.”

“Or, she might welcome kids raised by you and I to lead instead, if we can prove to her we can raise good kids,” you half-joke. He nods. “Because as much animosity as she has towards you, I really don’t think she wants her kids following in coven tradition. Even so, if she does merge hers, we can just follow right up with ours and take it back.” Kai lets out a small chuckle. “But even if hers do take the leadership, I don’t think they’ll try to hurt you. By then, you’ll be settled in, and we’re already far away from your father. Jo trusts me, I think, and we can continue to make peace with her. We’ll be okay. You’ll be safe, I promise. As long as you’re with me-”

“-I’m safe.”

“Exactly.” You kiss him. “And if by somehow there’s a huge falling out and the coven does get violent again,” you shrug, “we’ll just become vampires.”

At first he laughs, but then grows serious as the words hit him. “You’d really do that with me? Transition and live forever just to keep them from killing me?”

“Mhm. I would live a thousand lives as long as I have you with me in all of them.”

[robsterskellington]

So the first snippet you all wanted was for Soukoku, so I guess we shouldn't have been surprised that you all wanted Shin Soukoku next!

Context: Vanitas has been in Yokohama for over a month now, still has amnesia, and has managed to cure some of the Vampires created by Bram's Ability by using the Book of Vanitas (disclaimer: that is *not* Vanitas' Ability, its just something the book can do- instead of curing Vampires of malnomens, it turns Vampires created by Bram back into Humans). Akutagawa is slowly healing and wants to know exactly how he feels about Atsushi, so now that he's human again, he has been trying to spend time with Atsushi. This is one of those times. Vanitas is not in this piece, but he is mentioned a bit.

Enjoy!

*Ugh, it's the full moon again tonight...* Atsushi was grateful for the affects of All Men Are Created Equal, however the one thing that it couldn't stop was Byakko coming out completely every full moon. It was difficult to lock himself up or hide, though he was always grateful that Dazai had that storage container for him to use. He was mostly moody because...

Atsushi wasn't stupid, obviously he knew at some point Akutagawa and he would have to fight properly, but he couldn't deny that hanging out with Akutagawa outside of everything had been fun. They would spar, they would discuss things about work, though talking about the past was difficult for both of them. They both had their scars, but that was okay- it was a sign that they'd survived so much terror.

As if his thoughts had manifested the man in his thoughts, Akutagawa had sent him a text; Atsushi had wanted to keep in touch officially, since when they weren't fighting each other, they actually defended one another, Akutagawa's neck was proof of that claim. Shaking his head, ridding himself of that nightmarish image, Atsushi opened the text:

*Jinko, I know what tonight is, but I still want you to meet up with me today. If you trust me enough, meet me at the teahouse near the Red Brick Warehouse, in one hour.*

"You should trust him," Ranpo said before Atsushi could even gather his thoughts- he just looked towards the detective, who had a pocky sticking out of his mouth, and was looking through some drawings that Vanitas had made, "Akutagawa's obviously up to something, and I can confirm it's nothing nefarious. Even if it was, you'd still go, right?"

"I don't need to confirm that, you already know you're right." It was like Ranpo was a mind-reader. *Not Gifted, my ass.* Still, he was right, of course he was. If Akutagawa asked to meet, then he'd go, even if nobody else trusted him. The deadline was now four months away, but it didn't matter to him- he could only live in the present for the time being, so he wouldn't let the thoughts of his and Akutagawa's inevitable fight to the death bother him.

Besides, he wasn't needed at the office anyway. Vanitas was probably at the café with the Tanizaki's, the President was at a meeting with Special Operations, and Dazai was likely causing problems. Kyouka and Kenji were enrolled at the local school, so they were likely at their apartments doing their homework. Though Ranpo essentially gave him the go-ahead, Kunikida frowned at him, "Akutagawa's just trying to get you to drop your guard, make it easier for him to kill you."

"No, he isn't. Even if he was, he's still gotta keep his promise for another four months, he won't fight me until then..." Wait, was he actually *defending* the guy who was going to turn him into a tiger skin rug? Atsushi had caught himself but cleared his throat, "I don't believe there's malicious intent. Besides, I can handle myself. I promise, Mr. Kunikida."

Kunikida looked at him from over the top of his glasses and sighed, "Fine. I may not trust that wretched dog, but I trust *you*. Try and stay safe."

"I will!" He ran off after that, though he had the sense to keep his location on his cell in case anything did happen. He doubted Akutagawa would break his promise and kill him early, but one can never be too careful.

*****

The teahouse was one that Akutagawa frequented with Gin, since it was a nice halfway point between the Port Mafia base and their apartment. Akutagawa felt a bit more relaxed than usual- Vanitas had found that despite his Ability being unrelated to the book, which apparently showed illnesses and maladies in Vampires, he could still use it- Vampires were turning back to human, though it was a slow process, since Vanitas was only one man, and Fukuchi had turned about 38% of the entire world into Vampires.

He saw Atsushi heading in his direction and gave him his full attention, "Weretiger. How are you feeling?"

"...same as I always do on days like this." Akutagawa gave him a look of pity; the full transformations weren't something Atsushi had control of, and containing a wild tiger was about as easy as it sounded. Byakko never hurt anyone, but it would break into places that had food, or rummage for scraps. It was a good thing that the Municipal Police and the Military Police had agreed that he wasn't a risk, otherwise he'd be shipped off to Mersault, or put to death.

Morbid thoughts aside, Akutagawa just nodded sympathetically, "I'm going to help you with that. For now, let's get something to eat so you're not suffering later. What's your favourite?"

"I, uhh... chazuke... wait, why are you help-"

"Chazuke. Alright, I'll order us a few bowls, you're going to need the energy."

That *always* happened. Atsushi would ask Akutagawa why he was being nice, or why he was helping, or even why he was so determined to wait for months before they fought to the death, but there was never any answer. Akutagawa had changed since Vanitas reversed the Vampirism... though he also changed in a few other ways. Lungs aren't able to be healed completely once damaged, but the pain could be eased and living with painful lungs could be fine if handled correctly.

Vanitas had apparently been a doctor in his world, and had developed some herbal medicines and remedies, since his world was more advanced in some ways, less advanced in others. Astermite meant that Vanitas' world had a more advanced fuel source while this world would be royally fucked eventually. While hospitals were more advanced here, some of Vanitas' medicines were far better for so much, including a remedy to soothe Akutagawa's lungs, chest and throat.

It wasn't difficult to see all the changes. Akutagawa's coughing had all but subsided, and because of this, he was going out more often since the air didn't feel like smoke was filling his lungs every time he breathed, though he still wore a face mask whenever he went to the beach. The sun was having an affect on him as well, as he'd actually been going out and walking, so he'd developed a slight tan. Finally, the most obvious change was that he'd put on a slight bit of weight- who knew it was easier to enjoy food when you weren't constantly coughing up everything you swallowed?

Atsushi could finally see just how much Akutagawa could eat in a sitting now, and despite him obviously not gorging himself, it was apparent that it was more than he'd usually eat. They both ate until they had a small pile of bowls each, then Akutagawa paid the bill. The time was going faster than Atsushi had liked, since he honestly just wanted to sit here and talk with Akutagawa. It was like they could be normal kids for once. Akutagawa may point out that at 20 years old, he was no longer a child, but Atsushi wasn't buying that.

Once it had evidently reached the right time, Akutagawa stood up and held his hand out to Atsushi, "Are you willing to trust me?"

He shouldn't. Akutagawa had hurt him so much, and yet... when everything looked bad, and Atsushi was at his lowest moments, Akutagawa was the one to help him. Sure, Dazai had done a lot, but that was more because he must have felt obligated, Akutagawa didn't have that same issue.

Atsushi took his hand.

****

"I didn't know you could drive!" It took around an hour, but Akutagawa had driven them both to what looked like a forest just outside of town. Akutagawa had a simple black car, complete Mafia style, and Atsushi had wondered how he never knew. After all, most of the Port Mafia of a higher station, like Akutagawa, Kouyou, Chuuya and obviously the Boss, were normally driven around.

"It's a skill that a lot of people need to learn, Jinko. I learned to drive at 14." He smirked when he watched Atsushi grow pale and simply nodded, "Illegal, of course. But we are the Port Mafia for a reason. The Boss and some of the execs teach any young recruits the basic criminal stuff, like how to kill, steal, manipulate. However, we are also taught first aid, how to drive, how to cook and to protect ourselves and the Port Mafia."

"...did Dazai skip the learn to cook tutorial? And the driving one?" Atsushi winced at remembering the slop Dazai once served to them, calling it his *Super Stamina Hot Pot Curry*. Yosano's Ability worked overtime that day. And Kunikida had told Atsushi about Dazai's driving- his eyes still looked haunted by the memory, and he ended up throwing up. Driving so bad that even the memory causes motion sickness? Impressive, if not horrifying.

Akutagawa failed to hold back his laughter this time, and Atsushi stared at him; this was the first time he'd ever heard the sound of Akutagawa's laugh, and it was enough to make him smile. In that moment, with him holding his stomach and shaking with a grin on his face, Akutagawa looked younger. It was truly a sight, though Atsushi hid concern over the fact that his heart had skipped a beat, and he wasn't quite sure why his thoughts turned to just how *beautiful* Akutagawa looked with-

"No, he tried to learn," Akutagawa said while wiping a few stray tears from his eyes, continuing to giggle, "However, it was quickly decided that some things shouldn't be taught to some people. Meaning, only Dazai. Is he still bad?"

"Less said the better." Atsushi laughed, wincing at the memories. He looked around, at all the trees, flowers and listened to the birds chirping from above. It was so peaceful here, and the setting sun kept them warm for the time being. Akutagawa had picked up a backpack from the trunk of his car before they had started walking, and Atsushi knew better than to ask. Eventually, they reached a clearing, where there was a giant tree, lying on its side with its roots revealed. Atsushi glanced at Akutagawa who just stared at the tree before asking quietly, "Akutagawa, what is this place?"

"...we've known each other a long time. Obviously things are a little strained between us, but I know I can trust you. So, you can call me Ryū, if you'd like." That had made Atsushi flinch, but he couldn't deny that being told he could use not only Akutagawa's given name, but a shortened version to make it more casual, felt really good.

"Ryū. Okay, deal... though I don't think I'd get used to you calling me Atsushi. That freaked me out enough when you had the flu." They both looked embarrassed at that and Atsushi rubbed the back of his neck, "Weretiger and Jinko are fine."

"Agreed. And to answer your question... this is where I met Dazai." Atsushi froze and stared at Akutagawa, who had a warm smile on his face, "I was 14 years old. I came here, tracking down some men who had attacked Gin and I's street family."

It wasn't a secret that the Akutagawa siblings grew up in the slums, mostly the ones in Suribachi City, but to hear Akutagawa openly recounting the memories was strange. Atsushi wasn't sure he could ever actually tell anyone about his time at the Orphanage- the burns, the stabbing, getting nails hammered into his hands, the time he was nearly crucified? He ignored his thoughts as he continued to listen:

"One of the boys had stolen a diamond from those men, and Rashōmon proved that it was real. We were all so excited, thinking about where to sell it, knowing that with that money, we could buy a place of our own and enough food to live off until we could heal, get cleaned up, and find jobs to continue living a decent lifestyle." Even as desperate, starving children, they weren't willing to be stupid or wasteful with money. "However... those men hunted us down, and attacked."

"All for one diamond?!" That was disgusting. He winced and looked at Akutagawa, "How many of you were there?"

"Seven. Then suddenly, it was just Gin and myself. When I'm afraid or panicked, I can't control Rashōmon properly, so I was unable to avoid getting shot in the stomach. Gin was the only girl, and the men saw it. So they took her with them when they couldn't find the diamond, with the intent to sell her." Atsushi's body went cold, yet he couldn't imagine how Akutagawa must've felt.

A 14 year old boy, who had watched his friends die, got shot, and had his only family stolen from him. Obviously he would have wanted revenge, acted like a rabid dog who had lost too much and decided to go truly feral. Atsushi understood now why Akutagawa made sure to keep as calm as possible with fighting- if Rashōmon can't protect him, nothing can.

Again, thoughts manifested as Rashōmon took a small form, appearing as a demonic head on Akutagawa's shoulder, nuzzling its master's cheek, which made him smile. Not many people understood that Rashōmon was a Living Ability: a Gift that was literally alive. Capable of its own thoughts and feelings, but still under the control of it User. Demon Snow was an example of this, and while Byakko was as well, it was more independent and didn't do what it was told when fully out.

"I tracked the men down, to here. They didn't have Gin with them, so I demanded to know where she was. That was when they made the mistake of lying to me. They told me that she had been killed on her way to the person who bought her." He took a breath, trying not to let the memories consume him completely, "I hurt them, screamed obscenities, demanded to know who killed her. But they only screamed, or told me to kill myself if I wanted to see her again. I killed them all."

Atsushi found himself walking over to Akutagawa and putting his hands on his shoulders, "Ryū, if this is too much, I-" He watched as Akutagawa put a hand on top of his, before shaking his head.

"I'm okay, Jinko. Anyway, after that, I heard a voice from behind me. It was a boy, a little older than me, his eye wrapped with bandages. Rashōmon thought he was going to hurt me, and lashed at him, only to be dissipated by his Ability." Dazai, of course. Atsushi tilted his head and Akutagawa smirked, "The men were jewel smugglers for the Port Mafia, but found out they could make more profit by selling them to other organisations. Dazai came to eliminate them, but saw that I had done his job for him. I was lost, a scared child with nothing left. So I asked him: *can you give me a reason to live*? And he did. He lead me to the Port Mafia."

That explained Akutagawa's earlier jealousy. Dazai had saved Atsushi, too. Though the circumstances were very different. Atsushi concentrated on the story though, "Did he also lead you to Gin?"

"He did. She'd been sold to a child fighting ring." At the sight of Atsushi's jaw dropping, he sighed, "*Yes*, that's a thing. *No*, the Port Mafia doesn't allow that. We train children to work with us, we'd never force them to fight to the death for profit."

"Okay, thank God." He took a breath to relax then nodded towards the backpack, "Sorry to change the subject, but..?"

Akutagawa answered by removing the backpack and emptying its contents: a few blankets, some food, hot tea in flasks, and some spare clothes. He looked towards Atsushi and spoke gently, "There's a second reason I brought you here. I know your Tiger causes issues in town, so... now it has a whole forest to explore. I'll stay with you, make sure you don't wander off, and you can transform without fear."

Atsushi moved without thinking. He wrapped his arms tightly around Akutagawa, feeling as if he could cry. This beautiful forest was perfect for Byakko to wander and explore, and with nobody around, there was zero chance of anyone getting hurt. Akutagawa could easily protect himself if the Tiger was hostile, but he doubted that it would be. Mostly because...

Fun fact: tigers aren't able to purr like cats do, and yet- here Atsushi was, a soft rumbling sound coming from his chest, that only got louder when Akutagawa wrapped his arms around Atsushi. He made no comments about the purring, and Atsushi suddenly understood why as Rashōmon began to make a similar sound. The Tiger and Rashōmon purred together, and they made their Users want to laugh, but they were also getting their Users to relax.

After a little longer, Akutagawa pulled away, to set up the blankets. Atsushi also noticed that he'd brought a book about birds, seeing that some of the birds on the cover were actually in the forest. It would be good to see what birds they could spot while the sun was still providing light. He also had another book for entertainment- Atsushi recognised it as one Kyouka read, and while he thought the language used was a little vulgar for her, he saw that it was obviously a love story and let it slide.

They ate snacks and bird watched, but then Akutagawa decided to ask: "Do you remember how you got your Ability?" At his puzzles look, Akutagawa elaborated, "Were you born with the Tiger, or did you inherit it? Or... did the Orphanage experiment on you, or traumatise you enough that the Tiger was the result?"

Atsushi frowned to himself, having to really think about that. The first option of being born with the Tiger made sense, though it was certainly an unusual Gift to be born with. Not unheard of, just unusual. The only experiment that he went through was with Shibuzawa, but he already had the Tiger by that point. Maybe the trauma did create the Ability, but at the same time, weren't they beating the shit out of him *because* he could turn into a Tiger? He had nobody to inherit the Gift from, so that was out of the window. "...I have no idea. If I had to guess, I'd say I was born with it."

"I see. Forgive my curiosity, I just couldn't help myself!" Akutagawa wanted to know more about Atsushi, it felt better to. The boy had tried to save him so many times, even when he was verbally and physically assaulting him. Even when Fukuchi killed him, the last thing he saw was Atsushi trying to reach out to him. The mind may trick people, but eyes don't lie- Atsushi had been devastated by his death, and Akutagawa would have been as well if their positions had been switched. Not that he could admit that, yet.

"...what about you?" He found himself asking meekly. When he saw Akutagawa's face drop, he hurriedly spoke while waving his hands, "You don't have to answer, I just-"

"Inherited." He said with a soft voice. Atsushi blinked and Akutagawa sighed, "Well, I took Rashōmon from its original master- mistress, actually- though it chose me to wield it."

Atsushi found himself sitting up and giving Akutagawa his full attention. He chuckled and looked up at the sky- once he'd verified that there was enough time, he told his story:

*****

When Gin and I were young, I think I was about 6, so Gin was 4, our parents decided that they didn't want kids anymore. So they dumped us at our grandparents doorstep, and we never saw them again. Our grandmother was Gifted with Rashōmon- a Living Ability that turns cloth into a blade, armour, and a beast.

She didn't want children, nor grandchildren, she wanted servants. So Gin and I were forced to take that role. Our grandfather wasn't any better- we couldn't even call them our grandparents, we had to refer to them as Master and Mistress. So we became their help, having to cook, clean, go shopping. We weren't allowed to spend a penny on ourselves, and we could only eat the scraps that they didn't eat.

Years were spent like that, but things changed one day; the Master had developed a lung disease, one I found out later that the bastard knew he would develop and pass on to any offspring. He didn't bother to get treatment, refused any medication Gin and I bought... we hated him, but we still didn't want him to die. But he perished. That was when the Mistress decided she was done with "being nice".

She sought out any excuse to beat us, and slash us using her Gift, but what she didn't count on was the fact that Rashōmon was *alive* and had morals of its own. One day, she was whipping me, I think I didn't scrub the floor well enough, but Rashōmon just... wrapped around her wrist and stopped her. That was when I learned that it was alive.

Tachihara once made the joke of me being vulnerable when naked, but the truth is, Rashōmon is a part of *me* not just my clothing. I just can't use the Ability with no cloth. However, Rashōmon does take a while to transfer from cloth to nothing, so if I have Rashōmon in my coat and take it off, it takes a few moments before I can use it on my shirt. Thats what happens when we use Kokko Zessō, I make sure that Rashōmon stays with you, Weretiger.

The Mistress was so angry at Rashōmon for refusing to hurt me, that she stripped naked then and there, so that Rashōmon was still in her kimono. From there, she cast it into a fire. That's the thing with Living Abilities- they feel pain just like us. And it's screams were horrible to hear. She just watched it burn, and left. That... was how I developed a bond with it. I saved a scrap of the burning cloth and managed to douse the flames. It was such a relief to see the beast's tiny head rise from the cloth, and I assured Rashōmon that it would be okay. It reformed back on the Mistress later, but something had obviously changed.

The beatings were mine to take, but clearly the Mistress had enough. She decided that I'd never be perfect, no matter how many beatings I took, so she decided she'd take away the one thing that mattered most to me: Gin.

She'd grabbed a kitchen knife, and went to stab my sister, but Rashōmon made her sleeve so tight that her wrist broke. After she dropped the knife, I grabbed it. One stab to the chest was all it took; I was furious, I wanted her to suffer, but I also wanted to be *better* than her. She laughed at me, even when she was dying, calling me weak and pathetic. My weakness in that moment died, and I finally spoke, words I'd never needed to use before, but it was fitting now.

"*Rashōmon: Jaws of Endless Gates!!*"

There was nothing left of her. I thought Gin would think I was a monster, but even she had a moment and spat on the bitch's remains. Rashōmon had purred, calming us both down. That was the day I became Gifted.

****

"After that, we stole everything we could and ended up living in the slums." Akutagawa was sat, holding his knees to his chest, and he saw that Atsushi had no expression on his face, "I'm sorry if I look more like a monster to you now, I and my Little Beast."

"No, you don't. You look like a caring brother who just couldn’t handle any more abuse." Atsushi held out his hand, summoning his Tiger's claws, "Besides, I can't judge. If I knew what I was capable of when I was younger, I probably would have killed the Headmaster myself, and I admit that I don't regret killing Shibuzawa. Both times, I didn't actually feel bad."

Taking a life was never easy, not even for the Port Mafia. Assassin's, mercenaries and usurpers, but still human. Sure, one can become distant and indifferent, but at some point, stomachs turn and you can't handle it. Even the Agency carried guns, but actually shooting someone was a different story. Shooting, slashing, hurting in general, everyone is physically capable, but not mentally.

Atsushi shivered as he realised that the sun had set, and the moon had begun rising, though he felt... calmer. Byakko was calm, this forest was peaceful. Maybe being able to run around, stretch its legs would do him the world of good? It didn't take long for it to become a reality.

White fur, bright yellow eyes, and giant claws formed, with a mouth filled with razor sharp fangs. But Byakko didn't growl or roar, it... sniffed.

The fearsome, supposedly man eating Tiger, was holding its head down, sniffing the ground like a puppy! It prowled, smelling the air, scratching trees, before breaking off into a run, climbing aforementioned trees or rolling around on the soft grass.

Akutagawa watched with a stunned expression, he couldn't help but take some photos and videos, completely awestruck. Atsushi was likely buried deep inside, and Byakko was the one completely in control. He briefly imagined that this must be what it's like for Chuuya using Corruption, having to let Arahabaki take the wheel as it were.

Hours were spent like this: Byakko explored the forest, not hunting since the only pray were the birds, plus because Atsushi had eaten a lot, the Tiger didn't feel the need to eat. Akutagawa went between watching, filming, taking pictures and reading his book.

He'd gotten a little *too* relaxed, he realised, when Rashōmon suddenly hissed- the Tiger had strolled up to them, though it seemed calm. Akutagawa trusted Rashōmon to protect him, as he held his hand out. Byakko seemed to recognise Akutagawa as someone that it's User cared about, and placed its head in Akutagawa's hand, letting out a soft purr.

*Incredible...* Akutagawa thought to himself as he pet the Tiger, feeling the soft rumbling of its chest. Byakko eventually laid down beside Akutagawa, falling asleep. It was really late, at least for them, it was about 3am now. Akutagawa didn't know how well this would turn out, but he laid beside the Tiger, pulling a blanket over himself and letting sleep consume him.

*****

Atsushi woke up the next morning feeling *warm*. He was still a little sleepy, but he became aware that he was wrapped in a blanket and... being held? But the only one with him was-

His eyes snapped open as he registered the fact that he was with Akutagawa last night. And right now, Akutagawa was asleep, *holding Atsushi in his arms*!! Atsushi tried to stay calm, and to not panic, trying to think about how to explain all this, when he felt his chest rumbling. Oh, did the Tiger decide to betray him?!

No, apparently not. Akutagawa's arms held him a little tighter, keeping Atsushi warm and secure. It was nice, *really* nice. He found himself yawning, and snuggling into Akutagawa's embrace completely.

Maybe five more minutes wouldn't hurt?

[multifandomfix]

Vampire Cover Up — Angelique Bouchard

Summary: A late night walk while waiting for Angelique results in a drastic change in your life. Luckily, you have a devoted witch girlfriend who will help you when you when the bodies start piling up.

Word Count: 1,640

Warnings: Blood, shock, comfort, non sexual nudity

Angelique had warned you so many times about staying away from the Collins' family, yet you simply could not listen. They intrigued you too much, Barnabas especially. You knew what your Angie was —a witch, and a powerful one at that— and you knew she had a long standing connection with the Collins', but she had not yet shared with you the details of that history. You could only assume there was bad blood between them. 

With only being told so little, you could not know how right you were. Angelique was working late, some deadline she had to meet. While you didn’t hold it against her, you did grow bored in the dwindling hours of the evening waiting for her to finish so the two of you could go home for the night and cozy up in front of the fireplace to end this particularly drafty New England day. 

So, you slipped out of her office and made your way to Collinwood. You weren’t going to disturb the family at this time of night, you just wanted a little look at the grand estate. You leisurely traipsed around the perimeter of the stately home, marveling at its architecture, when you swore you heard footsteps that were not your own. That should have been the only sign you needed to turn tail and run, but instead you dismissed the noise as an animal in the bushes, or something equally as harmless. 

You were sprung upon so fast afterwards that you weren’t even able to scream. A hand covered your mouth and you struggled in your assailant’s grasp, but the swiftness and strength of your attacker was far greater than your own and once they had stilled you, you felt your neck pierced by something sharp. Teeth, you realized as the world started to become blurry. You’d been bitten. 

After the blackness had overtaken you, the next thing you knew, you were standing just inside of the doorway to your home. You had no memory beyond your walk around Collinwood and being attacked under the cover of night. A look out the nearest window told you it was nearly dawn, so what had happened in those missing hours? 

You made your way through the house, a bit unsteady on your feet, hands landing on the walls to help keep your balance as you staggered towards a bathroom. You exhaled a sigh of relief once you’d reached it, flicking on the light. Your relief was short lived when you took in the state of your appearance. Your complexion had paled from its usual tone as if you no longer possessed any sort of warmth within your body. But what was far more concerning than the pallor of your skin, was the dried blood that coated your lips and chin and trailed down your neck. 

Whether it had been the clumsy trek through the house, or the strangled shriek of horror that came from deep within you at the sight of the blood, Angelique had come rushing to the bathroom to see you sitting on the rug, having used the shower door to slump to the floor before the shock could take your legs out from under you. 

"My darling, what has happened to you?" If she expected an answer, you weren’t capable of it. She pinched your chin between her thumb and forefinger, angling it for you to look at her. Your eyes slowly focused in on her features, a welcome sight after all this terror and confusion. "I thought you stayed out last night to spite me for taking so long at the office. If I had known— oh never mind. What’s done is done. Let me clean you up, my love." 

Though you could see her as she moved to the sink and hear the running water as she dampened a cloth to clean your face, your mind was in a haze and you couldn’t focus on any of what she’d said. You gazed out into the middle distance, allowing your surroundings to become a blur again, until the warm washcloth on your face brought your focus somewhat back to the woman in front of you. With the blood cleaned away, and the washcloth discarded into the sink for the time being, Angelique helped you up and walked you to bed, where she had been until she’d heard you finally come in. 

"Lie back," she gently instructed, lowering herself to her knees at your side. "Can you speak? I need you to tell me what happened." Her voice was steady and patient, and it was coming in more clearly to you now. Her hand over yours seemed to ground you a little. 

"I…don’t remember much," you croaked, finally finding use of your voice again, no matter how shaky it may have been. "I left your office and walked to Collinwood." Your brow furrowed as you tried to bring up more details. 

"Take your time. What happened next?" 

"I heard something, or I thought I did," you went on, but you were suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of those teeth sinking their way deep into your skin. At the recollection, you were hit with a sob that shook your whole body. "He bit me, Angie. H-he bit me!" 

"Barnabas," she muttered under her breath, and as she came around to the other side of the bed to join you and offer you some comfort in her arms, she could see the small pinpricks from his fangs in your neck. How had she missed them before? Simple, she hadn’t been looking. She’d kill him for this. He was long overdue anyway. 

You cuddled into her, nuzzling into her neck as she moved into position next to you. Your arm circled her waist, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping your sanity intact. "Shh," she soothed, running a hand over your hair. "You will make it through this. We will make it through this, you hear me?" 

A hand under your chin made you blink away your tears and meet the lustrous blue of Angelique's eyes. "I couldn’t do it without you," you replied. 

"Hush now, dear. Rest." You closed your eyes and Angelique stayed by your side until she was assured you were asleep. Carefully detangling herself from you, she got out of bed and drew the curtains, happy now that she’d chosen blackouts to ensure you wouldn’t wake and burn up in the light. 

Angelique knew you’d fed, even if you didn’t just yet. She’d witnessed Barnabas do the same however long ago that was now and he’d been in the same state you were now, covered in blood like some ravenous animal. She’d have to take care of the bodies. With a rough idea of your path during the night, it made her job a lot easier. When she came across the three homeless men that had been gathered around a fire, she knew she’d found your spot. The three of them were drained entirely of their blood, save for what stained the grass beneath them. Easy enough to dispose of. At least it was unlikely they’d be missed. 

You woke up to hear the shower running. To know Angelique was still close by helped to ease your anxiety. You got out of bed when the water was shut off and waited outside the bathroom door for Angelique. The house was dark, darker than it would normally be on an average morning, but you assumed Angie had a reason for that and so you didn’t mess with it. 

Angelique stepped out of the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around her, yet she still held it shut at the top. "I didn’t expect you to be up. How are you feeling," she asked. 

"Better," you replied, though the reddish stain by Angelique’s hand was distracting you. Had she been up to something while you were asleep? 

Angelique smiled. "Let me get dressed and then I’d like to talk to you, alright?" You nodded and went back to bed, sitting patiently as you watched Angelique pick an outfit from the closet. Never one to be shy, Angelique didn’t mind that you watched her get dressed, swapping the white towel for a black lace bra and matching underwear, black wide legged slacks and a white button down shirt. 

"What happened last night," Angelique finally began, sitting herself next to you on the bed, "you were turned. Sweetie, you’re a vampire now." Angelique watched closely as your pupils dilated in a moment of panic. It made sense. The blood, the lack of pigment in your skin. Had you killed last night and didn’t remember? 

"It’s alright. It’s taken care of," Angelique interjected, seemingly reading your mind. "You’ll learn to control it. You just need time. I’ll be there for you every step of the way. There’s nothing to fear." 

While she wasn’t exactly right about there being nothing to fear, she was correct about the rest of it. She’d taken care of the bodies you’d left behind that night in the wake of your frenzied first feeding. And the next time you killed, you were at least able to recall it. 

Though things had gotten worse before they started to get better. Reports of several massacres made their way through Collinsport and the surrounding small towns. Angelique always did her part in covering up your insatiable thirst until it had time to quell itself and you learned to control it. She was woken more than once to you coming home, soaked in the blood of your victims. "How many this time, dear," she’d ask, and the bodies would always be taken care of by morning. The bloodlust would subside once your body became accustomed to its new state. Until then, Angelique would provide you the best of her protection. 

For @vixenettesposts

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @icetown587, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @lilbisexual, @thedailyspiritualist

Angelique Bouchard: @iticaboopsyou, @riveranddoctorsong123, @music-bird, @dereksgirl, @geekyandgay98, @athenodora-sulpicia-writer

[http-paprika]

GOLD RUSH / ALEX KELLER

oh shit, I haven't written in ages. apparently all I needed was the be reminded that the golden (no pun intended) american boy exists, a Taylor swift song and suddenly i'm out of the biggest writing slump i've had in a while. well, enjoy this rambling shit and enjoy the introduction of my new call of duty oc, Beau. xoxo, paprika

alex keller x original female character / 512 words / sexual implications, but never actually expanded on

HOW could she not fondly watch him, the way his skin stretches over his broad shoulders, the marks, scars, and tattoos that tell their own story? It didn’t matter that Beau had emails to respond to or deadlines to reach, and a conference call with foreign allies in an hour, the sight of his tan line that peeps out from his waistband caught her eye every time. Encroaching in on her decisions and logistics, terrorizing her in the longest minute to ever exist. 

The moment breaks, Alex runs his hand through his dirty blond hair and down to his neck before turning to look at her as she collects herself from the trance. God forbid anyone see that Beau wasn’t the cool girl she pretended to be. 

“I’m going to shower and hit the road. Hate to keep you from all your important, top-secret work.” Alex tells her, the early sunlight gleaming in his blue eyes. He had places to be, she told herself, work to do, and other women to charm. It wasn’t personal, just his way of living that she didn’t have the courage to disturb. If Beau asked him to stay, would he oblige and waste another day by her side? Would he leave his Eagles shirt hanging from her bathroom door knob again? 

“Okay.” She nods, making herself look back down at her laptop that’s perched on her lap, with an unfinished email drafted to Laswell waiting for her to press send. It was so unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but Beau was determined to make it seem like it meant the world to her at that moment. Anything to keep her from asking for more. 

“Okay.” He repeats the statement, standing and searching the room for where he’d discarded his jeans the night before. Boxers snug around his waist when Alex bends over to pick up the pants and throw them over his shoulder. His eyes never look back over at her, an air of disappointment plaguing her as Alex grabs the old t-shirt from the bathroom door knob. 

Somehow navigating hostage situations, convincing militant leaders to agree to terms, and diving headfirst into warzones is less intimidating than this. A feeling of anxiety knotting up her bowels as he hums to himself the song Beau had played in her car the night before. It shouldn’t be this serious, shouldn’t cause her to stumble and falter. But his easygoing laugh and infuriating charm have hooked onto her, the line pulling her into a place she hasn’t been in a long time. 

“Hey, why don’t I make some coffee for the road?” Beau finally offers, the words spilling out of her mouth quicker than she can stop. It’s said in a rush, often synonymous when having a crush. But she’d never tell him that, Alex didn’t need to know every part of it. 

“I thought you’d never offer.” The look he gives her is golden, etched inside of her mind like her favorite song. Suddenly she understands the envy and desperation of the California Gold Rush. 

[blitz0hno]

Drabble about the whole mikotosys-night-terror chronicles cuz I don't get to write much.

Post trial 2: Mikoto, still deep in denial (although deep denial doesn't mean ur as unaware as you let on/feel all the time), cries himself to sleep again. He hates the long-time habit, but thinking about his life up to this point, especially now... It makes sense, and unfortunately a lot more starts to make sense too.

It was happening again.

Mikoto was laying on the bed in his cell, staring at the ceiling. It was the only time he knew which way was up these days.

And today had been long, and stressful.

Why must he be this kind of person?

Chained up and interrogated.... Es trying to explain why the words "I saved you" echo in his mind.... a fuzzy ringing in his ears overtaking seemingly every conversation he had with the warden; Mikoto did his best to be attentive but was purely pretending. He was sure he dreamed the crime he was accused of, sure of it. It wasn't real, he couldn't do that! He had a future to look toward, and even if some people in his life were holding him back, his urge for quick relief had been but a horror-movie fantasy. A place for his brain to put his anger so he couldn't find it.

He had always wondered where his emotions went when he made them disappear. It didn't look good that nearly every moment now felt like a dream, either.

Answering questions with pen and paper had been particularly difficult. He didn't remember much of that either. He remembered the first couple questions. He remembered waves of frustration flooding his train of thought. He remembered feeling sick when he realized it was over and he thought he had only answered two or three out of the twenty questions.

Mikoto had started off this strange "Milgram" experience intrigued, but the more he thought about the events that led up to this "reality show," the more scared he got. He had always been a forgetful guy, but felt confident enough in his ability to keep track of important things. School, work, home duties, everything was always nearly lined up in his thoughts. Sometimes he had strong feelings about a task, but he was easily able to power through. He was oddly proud of that ability, from his adolescence up to his office job.

Sure, he had been picked on for living outside the city and never going anywhere. But he was reasonably popular with girls and very on top of his grades, which made other students like him well enough he supposed. No reason to feel lonely with how busy he was anyway. Taking care of home with his mom and sister, making sure he remembered to eat and study before shifts, and cramming for tests had all paid off, hadn't it?

He had a career he was passionate about, an end goal, and a stable job at a famous company. Although this job was... Not as glamorous as he had hoped. Nonetheless, he had worked so hard for it. He wouldn't just throw it away.

Not even when his meal times got shorter and shorter.

Not even when his boss made him redo weeks of work on a whim.

Not even when 60 hour weeks turned to 80 hours.

Not even when he broke down and cried after coming home to an onslaught of texts informing him of a deadline being shortened yet again.

He needed to sleep. Without sleep, he became irritated easily, and hiding it with a polite smile always left him with a permanent lump in his throat, as if he could burst into tears at any moment but wouldn't let it happen. When it all got too loud, Mikoto knew how to put it away for later.

Now was later, and he was crying.

He wished people listened to him. If they got to be cruel with no consequences, chain him to one thing or another, tell him to come and sit and stay until 3AM doing paperwork, he should get a say too. A say in how he was spoken to, in his rest, in his mind, anything.

But he second-guessed himself every time, coming up with nothing and doubling down on his polite diligent worker persona.

His chest heaved as he sobbed. How pitiful and pathetic, if they saw him like this. And to think everyone was scared of him now, not only because he apparently really killed people, but now more things he didn't remember were coming up. Torn up clothing he had tried so hard to laugh about reporting to Es; but all the morning he couldn't stop himself from crying, even through his mask. He had heard from others in the past that he talked in his sleep, but the noises? The shredding and screaming and destroying?

That was all new.

And embarrassing.

And mortifying.

Mikoto had no memory of any of it. He thought and thought, but only recalled feeling overwhelmed, perceiving the stares and the body language around him as tense, and the rush of anxiety which was renewing itself again. Out of habit, he searched for the smile he always tried to force through the tears, even now that he was alone.

Another sob.

Alone.

And everyone knew it. His boss, his mom, his baby sister, his peers EVERYONE watched him go it alone, pushing and pushing and succeeding at any cost to himself. But that was the goal, too, to be left alone. Not screamed at, following the rules in place, breaking them if it meant a more pleasing outcome for his current audience. His breath picked up as he remembered every comment, every stare every sneer every nitpick EVERYTHING others did to belittle his hardest work. His sweat, blood, and tears turned into a cycle that kept piling more on his back.

He held his hands against his ears as his sobs turned to a choked wail. Again tonight, he felt like he couldn't stop himself. "I HATE THIS! I'm not smart enough to even remember what I do, not strong enough to even control myself! FUCK!"

Again his uniform shirt felt far too tight. The restraints he had become more used to were suddenly like snakes whose every movement he could feel through the fabric, writhing on his skin. Mikoto screwed his eyes shut and begged to disappear, pulling at the jumpsuit.

Then John screamed.

He tore, he ripped, he fell off the bed and threw himself against the wall as if it would give him more force against the restraints. He couldn't stop. He knew it was his fault, and he knew why it was his fault, but they were hurting Mikoto all the same.

John forcefully wiped the tears from his face. His breathing was ragged as he felt himself grabbing at his hair. This was bad.

He couldn't calm down. Mikoto was beyond upset, he was terrified. John's own anger and Mikoto's fear had them in a frenzy, their hands pulling at anything they could grasp. What could he do? He had to help Mikoto. After all, it was John's fault, John's anger, John's actions that caused him this agony. Mikoto wouldn't hurt someone like that. He couldn't!

"I COULD. I DIDN'T WANT TO!" A shriek escaped his mouth. John didn't feel like that words were his. He took a deep breath, one hand still keeping his hair in a death grip.

The other was over his mouth. John had heard enough of what the other prisoners were able to hear. He was sure that they would be punished if they were any louder; or maybe Mikoto was sure.

He just didn't know anymore.

"They were killing you," John whispered, voice strained. "Even if you didn't do i-"

The words caught in his throat, and John's breath hitched as he felt the world start to blur around him.

"I do remember that I wanted to," came a choked whisper from Mikoto. "I wanted nothing more. Those people - those men... My life was hell. I was too slow with turnarounds no matter how long I submitted before the deadline. They called me day and night like a dog to their side. And th- the way they spoke to me and my coworkers - realizing their contempt toward the working men alone but god the WOMEN-" He sobbed loudly, burying their head in his hands. "The- these are the people our baby sister gets to meet next. The ones our mom married, the ones who lie and cheat and demand and force- they should be GONE they SHOULD. BUT- but I never thought-" he trailed off, curled into a tense ball. He could hardly feel John anymore -

Oh god.

He could feel John.

Like another person in the room, he felt another presence almost by his side. Another sob turned into a laugh at the absurdity of it all. The warden had no dog - Mikoto did.

And it was himself.

And that's why there was another "him," blaming his newfound self for Mikoto's plans and actions.

He felt terrible, in a hundred different ways. "John, it wasn't your fa-" Mikoto stopped mid-sentence, torn between guilt for his other self and the terror of realization hitting. He pressed himself against the cold wall and breathed slowly as he could, suddenly overcome with a clammy, nauseous feeling.

It wasn't a dream.

Mikoto had been sick in his cell once before, during a particularly bad panic episode. He had cleaned it up well and told no one, but somehow he was still met with looks of concern and pity and fear ten times over the following morning. Damn thin walls. The already isolated prisoner was not about to let that happen again. He slumped against the wall, closed his eyes, and grit his teeth as the room spun, wanting only to sleep. If only he could shut down, wake up in his apartment and cry about his shitty day at his shitty job surrounded by shitty people that his shitty singular self did not kill.

The weight of that possibility leaving forever made him feel like he would never eat again.

John felt the pressure mounting in their head and body, powerless to help. Just behind front, able to listen to the perspective he'd been wishing to hear for so long, and unable to do a damn thing. After all the begging to be acknowledged, he still hadn't saved Mikoto. Not by a long shot.

They were both stricken with panic by now, John beginning to pace around the cell and breathing deeply to the point of pain. Anything to keep from spiraling, from causing a mess, from snapping again, from hurting someone or even needing them.

And then they froze, a third voice that felt equally unreal catching their attention. Difference was, she and another were outside themselves , and outside the door to their room.

"He's at it again..." John heard Kotoko sigh faintly, breathing shallow as he stood at a standstill. He was so at a loss that he forgot to be angry at her treatment of Mikoto. Mikoto wasn't a killer. John was. Leave Mikoto out of it, let him live without this pain. It's why John was here to begin with! Did he fail? Did he drive any other help away?

"Ugh. I'll wait here, as you requested. Give him this." John heard a small acknowledgement from Es as they took the mystery item. He flinched, bracing himself.

Were they chaining him up again? Drugging him? What did he get Mikoto into now??

Whether he knew it or not, Mikoto was feeling the same guilt towards John, ashamed for not having noticed and feeling cowardly for running from him.

"John..." Es brought the protector to attention, gently holding out a water bottle. He hadn't even registered that they opened the door. He stared for a second, feeling shamefully and ridiculously dog-like, but took the offering. "How did you know..."

"Because Mikoto puts on airs," Es replied plainly. "He would have forced a posture that was more relaxed, perhaps greeting me as 'Guard-kun.'" Their voice went up a tad as they imitated Mikoto's tone, first amusing and then startling John. Was the switch that obvious? Had he ruined any chance of Mikoto being normal again?

"So you can... You can tell. We really are that different?"

"Afraid so," Es replied. "John, do you two... Do you know how DID happens?" They stood across from him, gauging his reaction. John seemed to be struggling to stay grounded as he explained.

"We never thought we had any sort of amnesia... We once read that it happens when... Oh," John sighed. "I have no idea what happened. But I know... I know..."

"When a child is hurt badly over a period of time, in their very early stages-"

"Yeah I know how it goes." He snapped like John, but John felt the words come from elsewhere. The voice also sound absolutely defeated, the truth having come to reveal itself.

"Mikoto...?"

"..."

Mikoto felt.

He was aware, he knew what he was saying, but his voice was bitter and monotone. He didn't know what to feel. He just felt.

"I don't fuckin know anymore," he sighed. Es was not entirely convinced it was only him - his voice was cold, and while quieter than John's, Es wasn't even sure they had heard Mikoto curse before. Of course, Mikoto was subject to change as any other prisoner, and his demeanor almost reminded them of Fuuta's current state.

Mikoto took a deep breath, standing a little straighter. "I... Suspected it, when I heard about it from some class, and then forgot about it. But yeah, when a mother and a father hate each other, and possibly you, very very much... I know how it happens." His eyes darkened. "Life got better, I think, when Dad left. Mom wouldn't talk about him, and she'd get mad if I even said something that she thought he would... But I could tell she missed him. My baby sis seems okay for her age, on track development and all, but despite all the responsibility I could handle I could never quite get it right."

Es nodded thoughtfully. "So you were ridiculed and blamed for things you weren't even aware was upsetting to your parents? Did they take things out on you, because you were older?"

"I... I guess. I never thought it was that bad," Mikoto sighed. "But living on my own, I started to feel more and more disconnected. More angry, more paranoid... And I started having nightmares. I forgot about those for awhile too. When it started affecting my work, I even tried to forget I was stressed at all."

"Or rather, your mind helped you forget," Es mused.

"It should have stayed forgotten," the prisoner growled. "I can't believe I ruined everything, and I didn't even know it. John wanted to protect someone who forced him to exist because I COULDN'T protect me!" He pulled at the strap over his chest, struggling to keep composure. There was no trace of his fake smile.

"You didn't force anything," Es corrected him softly. "The brain is an organ that adapts to survive. Even had you known, it's not something that can be harnessed and commanded. It's adaptation." It was a simple matter-of-fact, complex as it was. Es hoped they had their facts straight now, anyway.

"So how do we go back to normal?!" Mikoto cried. His hands were shaking now and was sobbing again; he quickly realized how dizzy he was becoming. "I-I need to sit." He lowered himself back to the floor and slumped against the wall, arms childishly wrapped around his knees. He felt nothing but shame presenting himself this way. He was 23, he was a graphic design agent, a working man! He couldn't break down like this! He couldn't have it this bad! Even if he didn't even feel like himself at the moment, even if reality felt completely made up... "There's got- there's got to be a way to fix this."

To his surprise, Es didn't look at him with judgement or pity. The only thing that stood out was curiosity, and they gently sat beside him as they gathered their words. "It's not a matter of fixing, Kayano-kun. You all need... Healing," Es spoke carefully. They figured the nickname would do for now.

"Can't heal from a murder charge," the prisoner scoffed. Mikoto felt reality spin as John spat out his remark. John ran a hand through his hair, smoothing some parts and causing others to stick out awkwardly. "It's still my fault. Those urges, those feelings... They're mine to carry, to protect him from."

"John... maybe you can protect each other. Share the burden. It was one body and, according to Milgram, one prisoner. Maybe if you can forgive yourselves... Milgram will show me a better outcome for you both." That was the best Es could think of to help right now. To think it was upon them to say whether this man was forgivable; he had seen so much of the real world that they themselves had yet to remember, and they couldn't even imagine the stress of his perfectionist lifestyle on top of it all. They wanted to cry from how unfair it all was, but prisoner 009 was the priority right now.

As the warden... They had to do what they thought was best. They almost felt guilty for having Kotoko on standby, even though it was she who insisted. But that didn't mean Mikoto, or even John, was dangerous.

"I know I didn't do the right thing," Mikoto sighed, sitting up as he regained composure. "And it still doesn't feel real. I can almost feel the memory slipping again. It hurts, Guard-kun!" He gripped the sides of his head. Es instinctively reached gently for his hands to discourage him from pulling his hair out, and Mikoto flinched. He hit the barrier between them with his hands as he automatically covered himself.

"Shhh... Mikoto..."

"I'm sorry!"

"You didn't hurt me. I startled you," Es said. "Mikoto, you don't need to remember all the time. That's what your alter John, and any others there may be... Are for," they looked away, thinking bitterly about what may lie in their own memories. "It can hurt to remember, Mikoto. Sometimes it's even dangerous."

"I was dangerous when I didn't remember, too," Mikoto sniffed. "John... He wanted to protect us - protect me - so badly that we hurt a lot of things. Even you."

"Well as for me, Mikoto, my physical health is no worse for wear," Es replied. They were only partly lying - they were exhausted constantly, but John's outburst was long down the list of incidents by now. "I forgive you. Do you... Forgive you? Forgive John?"

"John... I barely know John..." Mikoto sighed, feeling defeated as the words he tried to form seemed to fade from his mind. "But I... I forgive his mistakes. I hope he can forgive me too." Mikoto then felt lightheaded again, but although his throat felt stuck and his chest was tight, his left hand gave a small thumbs up.

Es couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Well, there you go."

Mikoto heaved a sigh, suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever. "Thank you..." He whispered. He began to cry again, but smiled a smile that seemed to come more from genuine gratitude than fear. "Thank you, Guard-kun. I know... John will be happier now. I'm... I'm really scared. But we don't have to be lonely."

Es stood up slowly, offering a hand to help him to the bed. 009 sat still on the floor for a moment, a small frown forming on his face as he took their hand. "It's... It's John." He whispered, although they were partly holding him upright, Milgram ignoring his presence and giving him away. It felt strange, announcing himself like that, but comfortable too. "I know we can't undo what we did... Thank you for helping Mikoto."

"You deserve help, too, John. Mikoto wants to be there for you, too," the small warden looked up at him with almost a sense of urgency, praying John wouldn't try to take it all on himself anymore.

"Well he can start..." John mused, "by not giving away my cigarettes anymore. How's that?"

"Oh yeah, he did tell me to stop giving those to him even if he asks. I think..." They almost didn't suppress a laugh as they walked the system to their cot; although the situation wasn't funny itself, it was an interesting process. "I think finding those over and over is when he knew he forgot more than he knew."

"Damn right..." John sat down on the bed, the body falling over nearly instantly.

"Goodnight, John-kun, Mikoto-kun," Es said softly, heading towards the cell door.

"Goodnight, and thank you again," John's low voice replied.

As they went out the door, they heard another.

"Oh! Goodnight, Guard-kun!" A soft whisper said from across the room. "...And thank you."

That night was the most restful sleep Mikoto's body had gotten in years. He almost felt like he could finally get used to this. He would never get used to "being a killer," though. He didn't know much about the social perception of DID, so he sure hoped that wasn't a general stereotype.

End.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Everything I Never Told You

(Part four)

Series masterlist

Warnings: Angst (which has become pretty much the default.) Uh, idk, angst. Angst. I don't wanna spoil anything, so Imma cut the warnings short. Enjoy!

You fall into a pattern. Every day, you wake up with dawn, have breakfast, train all day, and go to bed exhausted. Jake takes care of teaching you, of ensuring you become one of the people, that you are aware of the customs, that you follow them. He teaches you to ride a banshee, to use a bow and arrow, to walk, to jump, to hunt. He helps you with the Na'vi language, aids you with the rituals. Basically, he's with you all day, teaching you, helping you...

Days, weeks, months pass. You don't know how many; if you're honest, you don't care. It's not like you have a deadline, it's not like you have anywhere to be. But you're aware that time is going by and that your memory hasn't changed.

If anything, it's blurrier than in the beginning.

The only moment you felt like you remembered something was when Jake touched you in the tent, when he kissed your neck, when he kept leaning toward you on the top of a Hallelujah Mountain as eclipse fell around you. But now, with this new routine, you simply feel far away from him, as if you can't see eye to eye. As if something between you has cracked, fallen away and left barren, impenetrable terrain where that odd...beforeness used to be.

“Elbow up,” Jake corrects, softly pushing your elbow higher as you pull the string of your bow taut, your arrow aimed directly towards a tree with a target painted on it. “Back straight.” He pushes you to square your shoulders. “And focus.”

You want to scoff at yourself. Focus. Focus when he's standing behind you, so close you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck? Focus when you can't stop thinking about what he said that late afternoon: I've missed you so much...? Focus when you feel, deep within your soul, that the only way for you to remember anything is if he shows you whatever connection the both of you had before you died?

Focus.

You release the arrow. It whooshes through the air, whistling gently, and lands on the outer edge of the target. You sigh at yourself.

“It's alright,” Jake reassures you as he grabs another arrow from a leather case on the ground. “You're learning. All you need is practice.”

You can feel frustration bubbling within you.

Practice. Focus. Elbow up. Mind clear. Deep breaths. Step quietly. Walk swiftly.

So many orders, so many little details to follow, so many things that only anger you and make your memory more of a grim, messy fog than it already is.

Jake hands you the other arrow. “Again,” he instructs. “This time, feel the arrow. Feel where it's going, where it has to land. Focus on the arrow, on your body. Control your movements, your strength, your aim.”

You try again.

And again, and again, and again. By the time you're done, the tree is littered in arrows, and not a single one has landed in the center.

You slump to the ground, mentally and physically exhausted, pissed, frustrated, and on the verge of tears.

Jake sits beside you. As you rub at your eyes with vexation, he softly says your name.

“What?” you snap. “What do you want to tell me now? That I just need to keep trying? That I'll get it eventually? That I belong here?” You sneer. “It's been days, Jake. Entire weeks of training, of trying, of sweating and crying and bleeding just to get it to work, but nothing does. The more I do this, the more I feel my memory slip away. I don't know who I am, or why I'm here, and this isn't helping me at all.”

He remains silent. You can feel his gaze on you. “Do you want to leave?” he questions, his voice soft and quiet, gentle and broken.

You feel tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You don't know what you want. You just want to understand who you were—who you are—and you wish it wasn't this complicated.

Maybe I should've just stayed dead.

The thought sends terror through you, enough for you to start sobbing harshly.

You sense Jake reach for you, his arms ready to wrap around you, but you pull away from his touch.

“I—Yes, I want to leave,” you reply with a whisper. “I just...I need to leave.”

You don't risk glancing at Jake. You can already imagine the look of hurt he has drawn in his eyes.

-

Crack.

Jake is convinced it was audible—it must've been, he's sure he heard it. The final break to his heart.

This is it. This is what's going to kill me.

Worse than a knife to the chest, worse than breathing water into his lungs, worse than any injury he's every had.

You leaving, voluntarily, because you don't feel any hope here.

Because you can't find the home you once did.

Jake wants to cry. He wants to throw himself at your feet and beg you to stay, beg you not to leave him, beg you to keep bringing meaning to his life.

But it's your decision, and he will respect that.

He keeps his composure, takes deep breaths to try and relax his shattering heart. His ears droop, his tail falling to the ground, hopeless. “Okay,” he says, hoping his voice isn't wobbly from how thick the knot in his throat has grown. “I'll take you back.”

You both hop onto his ikran. You've learned to do it on your own, refusing to let him pick you up and place you on the animal. You grab onto him lightly, a barely-there touch remains where you once hugged around his waist and rested your head to his shoulder.

As the ikran flies over the thick foliage, cool wind rushes past the two of you, breezing in the gap between your bodies, making the distance that much more noticeable. It's as if your bodies are a mere demonstration of that canyon between your souls, that unfixable bridge, that torn connection...

Jake's heart keeps tearing itself into pieces, rolling into itself like a wounded creature, baring its weak, useless teeth to the world in hopes of scaring all threats off.

His heart has tried so hard to keep itself safe, and then you showed up and you hurt him. Twice, you've left him. Twice, he's lost you. Twice, you've abandoned his heart to the unbearable pain of loss and grief. And yet, he finds himself loving you more with each passing day.

Jake leads the ikran to the small clearing in the forest where your tomb lies. The creature lands on the soft ground, clicking its beak softly.

Clouds are carrying over the sky, darkening the day even more, threatening to burst tears over your loss as if Eywa herself were mourning your departure.

You jump off the ikran, your face sad and tear-stained, your ears folded against your head.

Jake wants to hop off his animal, hug you one last time, take the chance to finally tell you how much he loves you. But he doesn't. He knows he can't say goodbye to you again, he can't hug you one more time, can't touch you anymore—otherwise, he'll never be able to let you go.

Your eyes rise to meet his. “I'm sorry your plan didn't work,” you murmur. “I...I wish it would've.”

His heart tears itself even more.

“Me too,” he replies silently.

What's the difference, he wonders, between waking up without you and watching you walk away from him in real life? They both feel like death.

You sigh softly. Without another word, you turn away from him, walking into the foliage, disappearing amongst the bushes and trees where he'd first seen you appear.

Jake remains where he is for a long time, simply sitting atop his ikran, staring at the place you'd been standing in moments ago.

Eventually, he has to leave.

Eventually, he has to wake up.

His ikran takes off, dashes through the air. Once he's safely up in the sky, away from curious ears and peering eyes, he cries. He cries for you, allowing the wind to push his tears off his cheeks. He sobs as his soul breaks into pieces, cutting into his skin, making his heart feel raw and bruised.

The rain comes not long after. It mixes with his tears, adds to the pain. The cold rain makes his body even colder, the ghost feeling of you against his back unable to bring him any comfort.

He flies through the rain until he can feel his ikran become exhausted. Only then does he decide to return to the camp.

What's the difference between waking up without her and watching her walk away from me in real life?

There is no difference, he decides. I lose her either way.

-

The rain is falling down hard, the sky pouring as you finally reach headquarters. At first, the soldiers posted to the first watch raise their rifles at you, shouting at each other, but when you lift your hands in surrender and state your name, they let you in.

A check-up later, a warm bath, some clean clothes, and a small individual room in the infirmary, and you still feel...empty.

“They took me,” you'd lied. “Held me for days, captive. I found some clothes of theirs, stole them, ran off before they could realize it.”

But how untrue that was. You'd given yourself to the people, willingly joined their lives, their clan, their reality. And still, you felt nothing. You'd gotten nowhere. You were right where you started, an empty shell of a person that once existed.

That other you...she'd blossomed, like the gorgeous flowers in the jungle, bright and colorful, peaceful and adored by all. And who were you now? Blackened petals, dry from too much sun or soggy from too much rain. Dead either way. Empty. All color lost, all charm disappeared, all adoration only a shadow of what it once was.

You lay in your cot, staring up at the plain ceiling.

You were the best.

And who am I now? You wonder. If I was the best, how can I pretend to outdo myself? Or to even go back to what I was?

You force yourself to sleep. You have nightmares, mixes of your reality and your fears. Jake's touch ghosts over your skin, people are shooting all around you, you're falling off an ikran...

And suddenly, a blinding flash of light. You blink and you're standing elsewhere, away from the chaos and destruction and death of whatever was happening.

It's nighttime. The sky a dark black, stars everywhere, the moons visible. Plants glow all around you, little creatures chitter softly. For a moment, you're confused, lost. But then you realize where you are.

You're standing in that clearing in the forest, the same one where you saw Jake for the first time.

As you slowly walk toward your tomb, you find yourself staring at Jake's back as he sits in front of your headstone, murmuring unintelligibly.

You watch form a distance, eye the way his back is hunched, the way his ears are folded backward, his droopy tail resting beside him.

You can't make out what he's saying, can't understand him, but you can hear his tone. Melancholy, broken, soft sobs interrupting every other word. His shoulders shake and he covers his face with his hands, crying.

You want to walk over to him, to comfort him, to do something to push his pain away. But you dare not. You chose to left. Why are you playing with his emotions? You can't go back only to leave again. Wasn't dying and leaving him once enough? Did you truly have to do it again?

Guilt rushes over you, feeling like a river is flowing into your lungs, making you feel like you're drowning.

You startle awake, body shaking, tears on your cheeks.

It's fine, you tell yourself, it was just a dream. Nothing more. Just a nightmare.

-

Jake is sitting in front of your headstone again. He couldn't sleep, and he didn't know where else to go. So he's here, talking to you...trying to, at least. Talking to the person you used to be.

Branches and leaves rustle not far from where he sits, and someone walks out from between the foliage.

Neytiri. Her eyes are focused on Jake as she approaches, and he hastily pushes his tears away when he sees her.

“She left,” she states, sitting beside him.

He sighs softly. “Yes,” he replies, voice shaky.

“What happened?” she asks.

“She...she felt like this wasn't helping her find herself, so she decided she wanted to return to the Sky People,” Jake answers, clearing his throat to steady his voice.

Neytiri sighs. “And you let her go?”

Jake glances at her, confused. “She-she wanted to leave. Of course I had to let her...Who am I to force her to stay?”

Neytiri whacks him on the head. “Skxawng,” she accuses. “Why are you giving up with so much ease? You mourned her for years, Jakesully. And now that the Great Mother has returned her, you let her slip from your fingers.”

“She wanted to leave,” Jake insists, confused. “It wasn't helping her remember anything.”

Neytiri whacks him on the head again. “The problem is not that she wasn't remembering. The problem is that you two haven't looked for what can help her memory. You've been training and and teaching her, and that is good, it is part of her becoming one of the people; but you haven't sought out things that make her remember. Have you taken her to the places you two used to visit often? Have you told her stories of who she was? Have you tried introducing her to her past life? Or have you simply tried to drag her through this new life, hoping, by some miracle from Eywa, she remembers everything?”

Jake folds his ears back, ashamed. “No,” he mumbles. And right there, it's like he realizes how stupid he's been.

Skxawng, he snaps at himself. How could he not think of that? In your tent, and then on the top of that mountain, when he'd touched you, pulled you close...he'd felt something and he'd known you'd felt it, too. He could see recognition flashing in your eyes, could sense you allowing your walls to crumble for him. And he'd ignored it. He'd been so afraid of scaring you off, of pushing you away, that he'd kept himself at a distance and, by doing so, stumped your memory.

The first time you two had gone through this—through his entire time in the Avatar program and his process of becoming one of the Omaticaya—you'd been there. You'd been by his side every single step of the way. That was what you needed. That's why this wasn't working. You needed him by your side, and not only teaching you, but also behaving the same way he always had. By helping you with everything, flirting with you, treating you as kindly and friendly as he could. By showing you he loves you, and never letting you forget it.

But it's too late now. You're gone, probably already back at headquarters, far away from him. And he doubts you'll ever return.

“What do I do?” he asks Neytiri, desperate, broken eyes rising up to hers.

“You pray to Eywa, asking the Great Mother for one more chance to right your wrongs,” she responds with ease. “And this time, Jakesully, do not give up on your girl.”

------

Days pass.

Another check-up, breakfast, orders for you to rest. You don't care about anything, you're just glad they don't have you training or being interrogated about what happened.

You don't feel a thing. You lay on your cot, staring at the ceiling, knowing there's a part of you missing and hating that you can't get it back.

No one visits you except the nurse who occasionally shows to check your vitals and see if you need anything. No one else cares about you, no one else has even worried for you in this time that you've been gone.

But the Omaticaya people...

They'd mourned you. They'd been overjoyed when they saw you again. They'd been kind and patient, and they'd been constantly checking in on you, worrying for you, showing you they cared.

Why had you come back?

So what if I wasn't remembering anything? You scoff at yourself. I'd rather not know who I am and be surrounded by people who care, than to find myself and be surrounded by jackasses who barely even recognize me.

But to go back...to put yourself through that again, through all that training and all those custom practices and rituals, to think there's hope only to sink into desperation and frustration...It's too much. You don't think you can handle that amount of stress ever again. You can't be faced with the fact that you will never be able to remember who you were. It's too much pain, leaves you feeling emptier than you had in the beginning.

What about Jake?

Your heart soars at the thought. Jake. Jake with his ridiculous smile, his bashful little ears, his nervous tail. Jake with his stupid grin, his smooth laughs, his kind personality. Jake with the little touches he places on you while teaching you to use a bow, or when he helps you jump from tree to tree. Jake in your tent, when he'd hugged you, kissed you, whispered in your ear. Jake on top of the mountain, inching closer, pupils so dilated, you could only see a strip of amber on the outside. Jake. Jake and that feeling of before, like he's the only answer to everything, like only he can help you.

But can he? If it didn't work all these months, why would it work now?

I gotta take a chance, you decide. I have to risk it. What am I going to do here, rotting away in a cot, unloved, ignored, forgotten? I can at least try to find a family in the Omaticaya.

------

Night falls. Your nurse says goodnight, tells you she'll show at midnight to check up on you.

You nod, smile, thank her with empty words.

You count to a hundred after she leaves, and then you get up. You're dressed in a comfortable t-shirt and a pair of khakis, big black combat boots waiting under your bed.

You grab a knife you'd retrieved from your shared dorm earlier that day, and you hide it in the waistband of your pants. You pick the boots up, walking out of the nurse's ward, into the dark hall. You move as swiftly and quietly as you can, trying to remember all the stealth Jake has been teaching you.

You reach the exit, push the door open and quietly step out into the fresh Pandora night.

You keep to the shadows, ensuring to stay out of the line of sight of those who are on watch. You slide under helicopters, behind cargo boxes, past ATVs and entire shipments of weapons—the few that have made it to the base without being intercepted by the Omaticaya.

You can see the chain-linked fence not far from you, only a few feet and a quick climb and you'll be on the other side, free.

Your heavy boots are still in your hand, your ears attentive to the slightest sound. So you hear it. Light footsteps, following yours, getting closer and closer.

A soldier, trying to stop you? Someone about to drag you back to the nurse's ward?

When you hear the other person is close enough, you abruptly turn around, swinging your boots at them, hissing and baring your teeth.

The other person ducks away from your boots, rendering their hands up. “Whoa, whoa, it's okay. It's okay. It's just me.”

Jake.

He stands in front of you, eyes scanning over you, his ears folded back.

“Jake,” you exhale softly, relieved to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder back at the base, ensuring you two are alone. His eyes return to yours. “I was going to break in to get you out, but, uh, you kinda made this easier for me.”

You smile gently. “I was going to go back,” you tell him. You shake your head. “This place is horrible. It doesn't agree with me at all. And, even if around the Omaticaya I don't remember who I was, it's better than being here all on my own.” You pause, consider saying it, are about to confess, and at least I'll be with you, when the lights to the runway flash on.

An alarm starts blaring, people are yelling, and suddenly Jake is pulling you by the hand, to the fence. He drags you behind a few abandoned containers, rusted and rotting from the humidity, and you find a small opening in the fence.

He helps you through it before sliding out himself, and then you two are running through the forest, branches scratching at your arms and legs and face. You didn't get the chance to put your boots on, and you really don't need them, so you drop them on the floor, leaving them there.

Jake runs beside you, occasionally grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you in a different direction. You suppose he knows where he's going, he seems like he does, so you trust him.

It's a long while before the two of you slow to a stop. Far away from headquarters, finally free.

You lean against a tree, breathing heavily, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Jake glances over at you, his chest rising and falling with his thick breaths. Your eyes lock onto each other, refusing to look away.

You don't know if it's the adrenaline or the relief or the fact that you're finally with Jake again, but your entire body is surging with this ridiculous feeling of before.

Your skin tingles, your tail swishes from side to side, excited, and your heart speeds up in your ribcage.

The tension stretches in the air, feeling like a palpable entity that urges you toward Jake.

Already, you know you can't stop it from happening.

-

Jake's heart is in his ears, but not because of your escape.

You're looking at him with those big, sharp eyes, you pupils wide, your ears folded against your head.

He can feel something inside of him pulling him to you, as if you were an irresistible force, a natural phenomenon he cannot seem to stay away from, nor would he ever want to.

He steps toward you as you lean against the tree, slowly, carefully, gauging your reaction. He cups your face with a hand, places his other hand on your waist. You invite him in. Your arms wrap around his neck, your eyes falling to his lips, and he swears whatever measly ounce of self-control he had evaporates.

He leans in slowly, afraid you'll dissipate into thin air, and ghosts his lips over yours. You let out a little gasp, a small breath that sends shivers down his body. His grip on you tightens and he gently places his lips on yours.

Your kiss is quaint, careful, sweet and intoxicating and, fuck, Jake could die a happy man with knowing what your lips feel like.

Your arms pull him closer, pressing his chest against yours. You open your mouth, letting his tongue in, allowing it to trace over your gentle lips.

You shudder against him, your skin pricking with goosebumps at his touch. He tries to pull you closer, to hold you tight, hoping, begging, praying this isn't another one of those dreams of his, that he won't wake up to realize you're not real.

His lips leave yours, kissing your jaw, moving to your neck, right over your pulse, licking the skin there.

You let him. You let him kiss and lick and bite his way down to your collarbone, until his mouth finds the edge of your shirt and he glances at your face. His hands sneak under your shirt, caressing the skin of your torso, and he whispers, “Can I take it off?”

You sigh softly and nod. “Please.”

He is careful with the way he peels your shirt off, raising it over your head, helping you out of it. He tosses it to the ground, forgotten.

He couldn't care less about the shirt right now.

You stand before him, bare, beautiful, perfect.

He leans towards your chest, placing a soft kiss on your collarbone before moving his mouth to your breast. He kisses the soft swell of it, traces his tongue over your nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it.

You let out a shaky exhale, your hands moving to his head, tangling your hands in his hair as he moves to your other breast and pays it the same attention.

You are perfect. Beautiful. Your body almost as breathtaking as your mind, as your heart, as your soul.

You are his end. His undoing. Everything that breaks him, everything that holds him together. You are his moons and his sun, the blood in his veins, the thoughts in his mind. You are everything to him, and he's glad your life intertwined with his; where would he be otherwise?

He kisses the valley between your breasts, lowering himself as his mouth trails down the center of your stomach. He kneels before you, his goddess divine, and gently nips at the edges of your pants.

You help him pull them down. You step out of them and kick them away.

Jake's heart stops beating in his chest as he looks up at you, naked. His hands hold onto your hips, his lips kiss your thighs, your lower stomach, admiring every inch of you.

Your breathing grows ragged, he can hear it, as he softly pulls one of your thighs over his shoulder.

Keeping his eyes on yours, he licks up your slit and then traces soft circles around your clit. You gasp gently, hips softly bucking against his tongue.

Your taste is sweet, addictive. He knows he'll never get enough of this—of you. He'll never grow tired of you, never have too much, never be satiated with what you give him. He will always need you, always want you, never take you for granted.

He slides one of his hands up your thighs, gently pushing his long, thick middle finger into you. You moan gently, urging him on, as he adds his ring finger, stretching you open.

His tongue focuses on your clit, sucking on it, flicking his tongue against it, making your body jerk and tremble.

He eats you out slowly, adoringly, savoring every single drop of you. He's almost afraid he'll never get to do this again, to love you, touch you, hold you, and he wants to commit every single detail to memory.

He curls his fingers, hitting that spot within you that makes you gasp and jerk, and he doesn't let up until you're shaking.

His tongue traces your clit, circling it, his eyes watching your face for your reactions. One of his hands massages your thigh as it rests on his shoulder, his fingers digging into the plump skin there.

Your hands fall to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging at the thick locks. He groans, the sound making you whimper against him.

Your juices drip down his chin, coating him in your scent, and he can feel his cock—already hardened—start to leak precum from the sensitive tip.

He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean of your arousal, before he lowers his mouth so that his tongue can sneak into your sopping entrance.

You groan, grinding your hips on his face as he nuzzles his nose into your clit, his tongue maneuvering in and out of your warm entrance.

“There,” you gasp, fingers tugging at his hair. “There. Right there.”

He chuckles against you, making your hips buck, your legs jerk. He keeps your thighs spread open, his calloused hands kneading into the soft flesh.

He looks up at you through his eyelashes, his amber gaze famished, needy, wholly lustful.

He can feel the tremors that start washing through you, shaking you, as you moan and whine, begging Jake to let you reach your orgasm.

“A while longer, baby,” he says against your pussy, his words spilling right onto your skin. “Hold a while longer for me, okay?”

You try to hum your agreement between your gasps and moans as your body writhes beneath his touch and swift licks.

You keep your orgasm at bay, holding it back for as long as possible, trying to stay away from the burning ache that ripples through you.

Your body is quaking, your legs limp and boneless, your breathing constantly cut off by your loud, desperate moans.

“Fuck,” you cry. “Jake, I can't—Too much—!”

“Alright,” he says into you, “it's alright, baby. Go on, come for me.”

You gasp, your orgasm crashing through you, making your breath get caught in your throat. You cry Jake's name, your hips jerking, trying to pull away from his mouth as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm.

“That's my girl,” he praises softly, finally pulling his face away from your cunt, placing a few kisses on your thighs, softly bitting the skin there. “Such a good girl for me. There you go.”

You're breathing heavily, your body falling limp.

Softly, Jake pulls you down to him, leading you to straddle him. You kiss him, breathless, making his heart skip and his cock twitch against you. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck, your tongue traces over his bottom lip, your hips starting to grind down on his.

He groans into your mouth, his hands gripping onto your hips with so much force, he's afraid he'll bruise you.

One of your hands slithers down his chest, caressing the muscles there, before they dip lower, lower, lower, until you can push his loincloth to the side and wrap your fingers around his long, throbbing cock.

He gasps softly, the sound drowning into your kiss.

“We don't have to do this,” he tells you, pulling away from the kiss. “If you don't want to, we don't have to do this.”

“I want to do this,” you tell him as you kiss his neck, licking over his adam's apple, making him shudder under you. “Do you?”

He chuckles, but it's a thick, husky sound, a groan of pleasure and want. “Fuck, you've no idea,” he replies. You bite his neck, and he can feel your smile against his skin. His ears fold back and he exhales softly as you lick the spot over.

You guide his cock to your cunt, running the tip over your clit. He can feel how wet and warm you are, how you drip down his length.

Then, you lead his cock to your entrance and slowly lower yourself onto him, all the way until the tip touches your cervix.

You moan gently, fingers digging into his shoulders, and he groans, his hands moving to your ass and massaging the flesh.

For a moment, he considers making tsaheylu, offering you his queue and explaining what it means, but he hesitates for a second too long, and you start gyrating your hips, moaning softly. The pleasure overcomes him, and the idea dissipates, leaving behind a sense that he's swallowing down yet another thing he wants to say to you.

Jake kisses you, his hands guiding you up and down, your cunt tight around him. He cannot get enough of the sensation of your warm pussy, of your arousal as it drips down to his lower stomach and across his thighs.

You slide one of your hands down to your clit as you ride him, and he glances down, watching as you touch yourself.

He groans, a guttural sound that makes you shudder against him.

He moves one of his hands from your hip to your pussy, and grabs your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and placing a few kisses on your knuckles before wrapping your arm around his neck. Then, he returns his hand down between your bodies and uses his thick, rough thumb to draw tight circles around your clit, adding pressure until you're whining and jerking against the sensation.

Jake sighs against your neck before chuckling lowly, a sliver of his cockiness shining through. “Come on, baby, let me make you come again, hm? You gonna come on my cock for me, babygirl?”

“Yeah,” you mewl in response. “Fuck—Yes.”

He keeps his pace, thrusting up into you and circling your clit, both movements making you tighten around him with each passing moment.

He can tell you're close by the sounds you make, by how you clench his cock, by your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Don't stop,” you beg, breathless, closing your eyes and throwing your head back. “Please-please, don't stop.”

“I won't, baby,” he promises. “I'll give you everything you want, girl. I'll fuck you for as long as you want, however you need me.”

Your legs go limp, your grinds growing sloppy and weak, but Jake keeps up the pace, ensuring to push you to your edge.

You gasp as your orgasm washes over you, your body going taut for a second before the pleasure hits you and your release overcomes you. You exhale as you start climbing down from your high, but Jake keeps rutting into you, making the pleasure spark within you again.

“Jake-Jake—”

“I know, baby,” he says through clenched teeth. “I know it's too much. But can I come inside you? Can I fill this pretty pussy, girl?”

You whine, overstimulated, overly sensitive, but you nod. “Please, please, please,” you reply, each word accentuated with Jake's thrusts and rubs on your clit.

Jake can feel his release creeping up on him, like hot water rushing over his body, threatening to make him faint from the intensity.

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the back of his head, tugging softly, as you moan his name.

Jake groans. Fuck, he didn't know he liked his hair pulled until you did it.

He's close, so close. He can feel the incrementing sensations, the pleasure becoming almost too much. He can feel your hot pussy around his aching cock, one of your hands digging its nails into his shoulder, your other hand tugging his hair, your ass bouncing on his thighs.

And then your lips—your plump, soft, wet lips land on his neck, kissing him, licking him. Your tongue traces a path down to his collarbone and you bite him, hard, making him let out a low moan.

His orgasm is too close. He thrusts harder, faster, the fingers rubbing your clit grow uncoordinated, clumsy. Your cunt tightens around him, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Jake, please,” you moan, desperately trying to match the movements of your hips to his desperate thrusts. “Please, I need you to fill me up. Fuck—please!”

You come again. For a third time. Whining and thrashing, body spasming against Jake. And he feels your juices, thick and sticky, gush over his cock. And it's the last straw for him.

“Fuck,” Jake growls, his orgasm finally rippling through him. He closes his eyes, folds his ears back, exposing his canines as he hisses softly, the pleasure so intense, it's almost painful. Almost.

His cum spurts inside of you, filling you, and slowly begins to drip out of you, down his length, mixed with your own arousal.

You're both breathing heavily, bodies growing limp, exhausted from the pleasure. He helps you up, allowing his softening cock to slip out of you. His cum pools out of you, and he gathers it with his fingers before lifting them to his mouth and sucking his digits clean.

You lie on the soft grass beside him, your chest heaving, your skin slick with sweat.

Jake lies beside you, brushing a few strands of hair off your face. “Y'alright, baby?” he asks softly, placing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Yes,” you reply, voice a little hoarse from the sex. “Just worn out.”

He pulls you toward him, cradling your naked body against his.

I love you.

The words echo in his mind, surging from his heart up his throat, dancing on the tip of his tongue—

“Thank you for helping me out of headquarters,” you say quietly, a little drowsy. “You didn't have to come looking for me, and you did. So...thank you. It-it meant a lot to me, Jake.”

“It was no biggie,” he replies, trying to dismiss your flattery even though your words make his heart race, his breath quicken. “I...I had to get you back.”

There's a small pause before you question, “Why?”

Because I love you.

“I, uh...” He licks his lips nervously, summoning the courage to say those words. “I...I just couldn't...leave you there. I woulda missed you too much,” he half-jokes.

Fucking idiot. Just tell her.

“I really appreciate it, Jake,” you say again. “Thank you.”

Jake can feel you dozing off in his embrace, your breathing growing slow and steady. He glances at your beautiful face, at the little luminescent freckles across your skin, at your long eyelashes, your sweet lips...

You're so fucking perfect...

I love you.

He falls asleep without saying it. He figures, I've kept it quiet for years, what's one more day without telling her?

@spicycloudsalad @arminsgfloll @mashiromochi

[choicesholidays]

Choices Holiday’s Festival of Fears Halloween Prompt Event

It's almost October and that means Halloween/Samhain time! In the spirit of Creepy Campfire Tales (Special thanks to the creator of Creepy Campfire Tales, @annabellewynter for her gracious support of this endeavor), Choices Holidays is hosting a creepy prompt event!

Welcome to a month filled with Murderous Mondays, Terrifying Tuesdays, Witchy Wednesdays, Threatening Thursdays, Fiendish Fridays, Sinister Saturdays, and Spine-Chilling Sundays!

Below are a series of quotes, prompts, and memes meant for inspiration, but you are not required to use them. Any scary story will get reblogged and added to the master list. This is open to all choices fandoms.

All creative endeavors are welcomed: Fics, art, edits, mood boards, whatever you’re inspired to create!

The deadline is All Hallows Eve: October 31st, 2023, 11:59 p.m. CST.

Be sure you tag @choicesholidays #choicesholidays, and #festivaloffears for reblogging and inclusion on the master list at the end of the event.

Please feel free to reach out to this blog or @angelasscribbles with any questions, concerns, or suggestions.

Prompts are under the cut.

Quotes for Inspiration:

“The night is dark and full of terrors.” ~Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin

“Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?” ~ Tim Burton’s Batman (The line belongs to The Joker)

“Quoth the Raven nevermore!” ~The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe

“We all go a little mad sometimes.” ~Psycho (1960)

“Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” ~A Nightmare on Elm Street

“I see dead people.” ~The Sixth Sense

Writing Prompts:

The following prompts came from The Write Practice.

Creepy Story Writing Prompts

1. It's late at night, and you hear footsteps in the cellar but you're definitely home alone…or so you thought.

2. You've put that doll in the cabinet, in the closet, in the attic, but no matter where you tuck it, it always shows back up on the sofa. On Halloween night, you find it watching you…

3. A bad-tempered businessman is driving home after a long day of work. He thinks he sees his kids trick-or-treating and stops to pick them up but those aren't costumes.

4. It's Halloween night and you and your friends think it would be fun to visit the local town's annual corn maze. But when you're inside it, someone inside the maze doesn't look like an actor in a costume. And shortly after, your friends start to disappear one by one.

5. You don't believe in the rumors that say a certain scary book is cursed—and that anyone who reads it will meet their maker by the end of the week. So naturally, you read it. And then things start going wrong…

Monster/Ghost Story Writing Prompts

6. A young woman goes to her grandmother's house for tea on Halloween night. They have a wonderful time together, sharing stories, joy, and the best times of family. The next day, the woman learns her grandmother has been dead for a week and no one could get ahold of her to tell her.

7. A little boy is lost in the woods, but at least his faithful dog is with him. As they look for the way out, the dog defends his master against terrifying monsters and animals. But the closer they get to escaping the dark forest, the more apparent it is that they'll need to face the person, or thing, releasing these monsters in the first place.

8. A farmer who dreams of being a scientist experiments on this year's pumpkins, hoping to enlarge them. He has a lot of success, until one of his potions is tampered with, and the cute pumpkin in his patch morphs into a monster that eats anyone who stumbles over its vines.

9. Your girlfriend/boyfriend brings over your favorite treat on Halloween, but when you eat it, you transform into a giant, poisonous snake that kills anyone who touches you. What do you do next?

10. You wake up on Halloween night, look outside your window, and see your sister sleepwalking away from the house. You chase after her but can't catch her until she plunges into a dark lake, where there's a mysterious song that starts to pull you deep below the surface.

Not-So-Spooky Story Writing Prompts

Not all people love scary stories. If this is you but you'd like to try to write a scary story—and have a fun time writing it—try tackling a (not-so) scary story prompt that could turn a potentially scary tale into something that is fun (even funny):

11. You hate clowns, which makes it even worse when your husband secretly decides to hire a clown for you son's birthday party—which just happens to be on Halloween.

12. Aliens have just landed on Earth and boy, did they pick a weird day to come. How do they respond to Halloween, supernatural or otherwise? Do they decide this place is just too bizarre and get the heck out, or do they stick around and join in the fun?

13. On Halloween night, lovers get to come back and spend the evening together one more time. One couple from the Roaring Twenties decides to come back from the grave to help their extreme nerd great-grandchild or the kid will never get married.

14. You decide that this year you're going to crash the ten top costume parties in town—and prank each one while you're at it.

15. A mad scientist determined to destroy the world falls hopelessly in love with a not-so-wicked witch. As hard as he tries, he can't impress her.

Meme Prompts:

[mobpsychomakes]

MASTERLIST

Hi! This is an incomplete masterlist trying to compile every single mob psycho omake because good lord some of these things are hard to find. Like, "end up skimming through several chapters because you vaguely remembered it being in World Domination Arc" hard to find. All of these will either be posted or reblogged here just in case the original poster happens to delete because that seems to happen a lot. They will be linked with their names and a brief description. All omakes will also be tagged with the characters present (Body Improvement Club omakes will be shortened to "body improvement club" instead of every individual character) for quicker searching.

OMAKES:

Reigen Shits Himself: serizawa asks mob to tell him about a dangerous situation he and reigen were in and mob tells the story of the time reigen shit his pants and almost got arrested

Ritsu's Nepotism: mob tries to get extra money for the body improvement club's budget

Serizawa continues to be the backbone of Spirits & Such: a lawyer appears at spirits and such and threatens to sue

Reigen needs a dog: a dog spirit attaches itself to reigen and he keeps it as a pet named "uu-chan"

The power of spider webs: mob uses his powers to stop a soccer ball midair so it doesnt crush a tulip and ritsu blames it on "really strong spider webs"

Magic > Psychic powers: mob has a dream about getting put in a fantasy world

Perseverance > psychic powers: a flashback of mob and tsubomi as kids where tsubomi keeps asking him to do difficult tasks and he keeps trying to impress her

Teaching Mob basketball > anti-terrorism: teru puts a hold on stopping psychic terrorists to teach mob how to play basketball

Reigen goes to hell, maybe: reigen gives advice to a fortune teller

Bullied & Such Consultation Office: mob and serizawa reflect on their childhood experience with bullying

Bigfoot Hunting: reigen and mob try to find bigfoot but instead find every other possible cryptid

Reigen dies: reigen nearly chokes to death

Meat: reigen takes the kids out for barbeque

Summer Vacation: reigen takes the kids to the beach

At Long Last, Revealing Their Full Name: the full names of a bunch of minor characters who didn't have them before as well as a couple biographical details for some of them

All Nighter: a scary closeup of reigen's face

Haircut Swap Series (To Not Be Continued): mob and ritsu switch haircuts

Baked Sweet Potato: mob bakes a sweet potato on an open fire

Content: mob looks at the sky because ONE ran out of ideas

Deadlines and HP: ONE tries to refill his health bar

Prime: the yokai guy tells a story because ONE was 40 minutes from his deadline and had no omake

Character Profiles: infographics sharing some fun facts (birthday, blood type, hobbies, etc) about mob, reigen, ritsu, teru, and shou

Valentines Day: the boys receive chocolate for valentines day

Lifting: tome advises mob to use his powers to play soccer

Esper Hoshino the Show Off: hoshino uses his powers to "help" his classmates

Fire Master Asahi: asahi uses his powers to light a man's cigarette

Snot Bubble: mob falls asleep and a snot bubble from his nose enters orbit

His Favorite: mob shows off his frog umbrella

Chapter 74 (unnamed?): reigen gets stressed out about his endurance being worse than mob's and tries working out

Sense of Crisis: reigen gets stressed out about mob getting stronger than him and tries working out (again)

Salt Mid Marathon Rankings: what places a bunch of characters ranked in during the 5k

Chapter 76 (unnamed?): mezato discusses with the psycho helmet cult how to find their founder

Last Nightmare: mob has a nightmare about breaking into tsubomi's house dressed as santa claus and getting arrested

Exception: the claw espers sent after mob discuss how easy he looks to kill while he flies to their location to kick their ass

Numb: teru and mob go shirt shopping

Horror Story: reigen gathers the kids to tell horror stories

Breeze: mob's umbrella gets blown away in a storm

I Understand: serizawa meets a friend from his class

Coming Up: there's a three day weekend coming up

Bug: various characters react to a bug

Reveal: edano asks how teru's hair grew back so quickly

Honesty: ritsu talks about what he wants to be when he grow up

Monkey Dream: dimple dreams about fighting monkeys

What does a ghost piggyback ride look like to people who can't see ghosts?

Greeting: Hoshino re-introduces himself for the third time

[scrawler-jay]

Artist Intro

I’m a beginner artist (they/she, adult) who loves nature and melancholy, and I dabble in both traditional and digital art. Occasionally I make comics as well.

I’m very self-critical when it comes to what I create, but I like to think that I’m fair in my self-critique because I focus on actionable things I can improve upon (as opposed to just beating myself up).

I am strictly a hobbyist and do not take commissions.

Navigating This Blog

You can find my own art on this blog by clicking/tapping #scrawler jay’s art. I am doing a modified version of Ahmed Aldoori’s 100 Heads Challenge where I draw a human head… basically whenever I feel like it; I don’t work well with deadlines, but starting the challenge in this leisurely way helped me overcome my terror of drawing the human face at all. The tag for this is #scrawler jay’s 100 heads… I don’t expect to finish anytime soon.

I also have the tags #art resources for things I personally find useful and #art inspiration for things I personally find inspiring.

My traditional art is sorted most easily by medium (the links here lead to tags within my blog). I really like conté crayons & hard pastels, watercolor pencils, and India ink. Occasionally I dabble in “proper” watercolors (I adore my Winsor & Newton Cotman half-pan set, even though I’m abysmal at using the paints) and acrylic and gouache paint, but that’s rather rare for me.

For my digital art, I use a Huion drawing tablet and Clip Studio Paint PRO. I’d love to get into animation using CSP, but as of now I have no more room on my plate for learning a new creative skill. Please note: I used to use an iPad and the Procreate app for digital art, but no longer do so because my iPad is old and loses its charge very quickly.

Housekeeping

This blog is not a safe zone for TERFs or any adherents to hateful, exclusionary ideology masquerading as feminism! We need to help all of our sisters, especially our Black, brown, and trans ones!

Generative AI is just plagiarism; I don’t tolerate that shit here. Same goes for NFTs.

Sex work is work! I don’t draw NSFW art (it’s not a moral thing; I just don’t feel ready skill-wise to try capturing the details of a figure that way), but it’s a completely valid and praiseworthy field of both artistic expression and commercial enterprise.

[gingersnaptaff]

Hi! I saw your post and I feel like you need this (also I am procrastinating about writing so...) and I am all about cheerleading writers in distress so

1) there is no time deadline on publishing. We all set them for ourselves and compare ourselves to other people who have bestselling novels at 21 and a twelve part series out by 25. You probably know this but sometimes it's helpful to be reminded.

If my 21 year old self could see me now (43 yikes) without the WIP she was working on finished, let alone published, she would weep (I have reasons. They might even be good reasons. Probably not. But I have been dragging my heels on it for a very long time). But. I have written other things and done other things and lived. I mean, don't do what I did - I am a lesson in what not to do but also a lesson in how you are not a failure for not having published before Insert Age Here.

Get it done. Get it published. Not to be all Old at you about it but you have so much time. And you can do it.

2) You're not worthless. Your stories matter. And every story is bouncing off every other story there is. Stories exist in conversation with each other. Your take is as valuable as anyone else's. And only you can write your story. No one else has your head. No one else can do what you're doing. There's someone out there who will read it. It will sing to them and speak to them and they will want to start their own conversation with it.

3) Opening the google doc is hard. Not immediately shutting it down again in terror is harder. Writing a sentence and not immediately deleting it is also difficult.

Practical tips? If computer doesn't work, use a notebook. It does different things to your brain. I resist this often, but it does work. Try associations. It sounds like absolute bullshit but it can help. Use a particular smell or sound. A candle, a perfume, a piece of music, ANYTHING, and use the same one whenever you sit down to write and only when you sit down to write. The idea is that eventually your brain will use it as a cue for writing mode.

I have no idea if this helps. I can word vomit a load more ideas at you if it's helpful, all of which I am very bad at following.

Be kind to yourself.

Oh my gosh, thank u. This does make me feel a little better because ADVICE. Also to know that I'm not just going through it either. Also I would LOVE more word vomit about ideas. They seem excellent ngl.

[marshmallowprotection]

Hi. I'm currently applying for a scholarship and I have to submit an essay and a video for it and the offer closes on march and I haven't done anything yet because of how much terror the thought of not getting it causes me. I've cried a lot over this cause if I need it to afford the uni I want and I feel like I'm running out of time but Idek what to write or say or do?? I'm so anxious :( Could I get some comfort from GE, SE and (if he has the emotional capacity for it) my beloved Suit? :(((

GE Saeran may not know what it feels like to have the deadline of a scholarship on his shoulders but he knows what it feels like to have a deadline.

Sometimes, he thinks about how hard it was for him to get all of his work done in the nick of time. He had a couple of close calls during the time he spent in the information room, constantly trying to find all the information that was handed to him and, frankly, even more than that. There might have been guidelines for him to follow through on but the expectation was always way more than what was laid out on paper. 

In his situation, he didn't have a choice but to get the work done. He could get the work done or he could be punished. Now, your situation is not as severe as that, the only thing that could happen to you, at worst, is that you miss out on the opportunity to get the scholarship you know you want. 

He can't tell you what to do or what to say, but he can help you sit down and work through some of these worries. Perhaps the reason why you're so afraid to get started is because you're afraid of failure. But, you miss all of the shots you never shoot, and if you don't let yourself take a chance on what you want, you'll never know one way or the other. Take a deep breath, take his hand, and look at the little prompt siting in front of you.

It may seem like a life or death opportunity but as long as you treat it as a chance to do better for yourself, it won't feel as heavy as it does right now. It doesn't have to be the essay of the century, nor does it have to be the video of the year. All you have to do is answer the message that is given and put your heart into it. He wants to see you follow your dream, and for you to follow your dream, you have to be willing to put those dreams into motion. 

"My love, remind yourself that this isn't the end of the world if you don't get what you want. There will always be opportunities on the horizon for you to follow your dream, and even if you do this and you don't wind up getting the scholarship, that doesn't mean you won't get another. It might work out differently than you expect it to in the end, but you'll never know if you don't try."

SE Saeran is in the same ballpark. He's never had to worry about the same things that you have, and the only thing he can equate it to is the experience of having a bottle of Elixir held at his head every time he didn't meet a deadline. It's not exactly pretty and he doesn't like to think about it.

But, he understands what a deadline feels like, he just doesn't know how to quantify that experience as something that doesn't end in torture. 

He won't tell you to get something done if it's upsetting you, but the more you avoid something that is obviously a goal you've set out for yourself, the more likely he is to say something about how stubborn you're being about something you shouldn't be. His dry tone won't be as gentle as his counterpart here, but it’s still from a place of caring. 

He's just not as soft or gentle in the approach he's had with you thus far, so you shouldn't expect him to be that way. He doesn't want to see you torture yourself, and the only thing he can think of to keep you from doing that is by telling you like it is. It may come across as harsher than he intends, but try not to take it personally since he's still learning this whole communication thing. 

"Hey, brat. I know you want to get this done but the longer you put it off, the more it's going to eat away at you. You're just going to work yourself up more and more if you don't sit down and do it. Either you want to get it done or you don't, and if I have to sit here with you to make sure you get this done once and for all, I will. I'm tired of seeing you torture yourself. You don't need to treat yourself that way. Aren't you the one who's always telling me I need to stop beating myself up? Maybe you should learn how to take your own advice."

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 67 – Saint Death’s Daughter by C. S. E. Cooney

This is a book I’ve been vaguely aware of for a while, without really knowing anything about it beyond that it was getting a lot of positive buzz, but it got a WFA best novel nomination and that provided the impetus I needed to finally give reading it a try. And, well, I’ll be honest – this was a slog for me. If it had been half the size it would very likely be one of my favourite works of the year; as is the best way I can describe the reading experience is ‘slowly drowning in cotton candy’.

The book stars Miscellaneous ‘Lannie’ Stones, younger daughter of a declining noble house which has provided executioners and assassins to the royal family of Lariat since its founding, and generally but not lately provided necromancers as well. Lannie is the hope of the family, a necromantic prodigy (if one with a profoundly inconvenient allergy to violence that requires her isolation from the rest of the family and her raising by a bound revanent nanny and the dubiously trustworthy ghost of an ancestor). As the story opens, her parents have both died, and she’s been forced to write to her terror of an elder sister to come home as their debts are called due. She comes home with an enscrolled and deeply unwilling fiancee abducted during her studies. This, surprisingly, only takes up the first small chunk of the book, followed by a timeskip, the introduction of Lannie’s niece born in the interim, the elder sister dealing with the consequences of her seven-year campaign of bloody vengeance against the foreign court which murdered their parents, and the beginning of the actual plot.

I really did want to enjoy this book, and on the page-to-page level it was often somewhere between charming and delightful. But there were just so many pages, and so very little happening on most of them. After the timeskip the book spends something like 500 pages just leisurely meandering, stopping whenever anything catches its interest to spend half a page or three enthusiastically describing it. At a certain point the exuberant narration and playful vocabulary stop feeling delightful and start feeling like the author is somehow being paid by the word.

This is made all the odder by the fact that around the 80% mark the book suddenly realizes its got a bunch of problems to resolve and switches into an entirely different gear, rushing through revelations and resolutions like it’s on a deadline. Which apparently it was? The book ends with what feels like less of a sequel hook and more like a final hundred pages were chopped off the finished product by a longsuffering editor pushed past the brink.

So, the lion’s share of the book is interested less in plot than character dynamics and cute slice of moments. It’s very much a found family sort of narrative, delivered in an incredibly blunt fashion. Which definitely works for a lot of people, I’m sure, but everyone was so obviously written to be endearing and charming and fell into love of various sorts with each other so instantly it just left me cold, and more a bit bored.

This is a book with footnotes, and among those it feels pretty middle of the pack? Not doing anything particularly impressive with them, and they don’t have a real character or voice different from the rest of the book, but they’re a fun enough way to infodump a bunch of Stones family history (particularly all the ways different members have died).

Thematically...look, I’m aware this is entirely a personal pet peeve not shared by any particular audience, but the fact that Lannie’s whole life from infancy is being chosen as the beloved priestess of a goddess of death for one specific purpose, and that this is portrayed as an entirely benevolent, positive, and uplifting thing to have done at basically all points that it’s discussed just sets me on edge. There’s nothing really badly done about it, I’m just a contrary maltheist by nature and the book did basically nothing to allay that.

Generally – I don’t know, I’m not opposed to 700 page books (I’d be an utter hypocrite if I was. Almost certainly still am regardless), but I feel like being that long is a failing the book then has to justify? It should be obliged to do something with the length, if it’s going to demand so much of my time to wade through it. This didn’t really feel like it did.