#I've been trying to draw one of the boys since this morning but here we go
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meo-eiru · 2 months ago
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"Oh dear you must've been so scared all by yourself, but it's alright. Mama is here now so don't worry, I won't leave you alone ever again"
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livinginshambles · 1 year ago
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I want to be loved first | James Potter
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Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 4.0k
Summary: Established relationship and angst: James still loves Lily, it's clear to you. You try to ignore the way your heart aches when you always seem to be second on his mind, knowing you will never compare to her and unsure how much more you can take.
Notes: Its happy ending again, sorry guys. I'd say no beta, we die like fred, but that feels too soon so anyway, spelling and grammar mistakes probably.
Masterlist
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People have often told you that you need to toughen up and grow a spine. That your lack of backbone had everyone trample on you like you were a crosswalk, and you could definitely say that they were right.
Perhaps that's why you were crying in the middle of the night because of James Potter. He was laying behind you, pressed against your back with an arm draped over you. His face was hidden in the back of your neck, breathing steadily against it as he slept peacefully, unaware of the heartache he was causing you when he whispered Lily's name. Again.
When he'd done it the first time, your blood had run cold, goosebumps showing up and littering your bare arms. Tears had prickled in your eyes at his barely audible, mumbled confession. "Love you so much Lily."
You had turned around to face him and your rustling had woken him up. Eyes still closed, he'd groggily shifted and pulled you against his chest. “Everything alright, love?”
“Yeah, just a nightmare,” you had responded in a small voice. Your answer had him finally open his eyes, somewhat concerned. He had lifted his arm to yawn against it and then settled it back on top of you in such a way that his hand had easy access to your nape, drawing circles in an attempt to calm you.
“I've got you, love. Nothing can hurt you, as long as I'm here,” he had assured you.
Ironic.
So now here you were lying down, your tears were freely rolling down your face and you were glad that the curtains of the bed were closed, leaving you in a private space, despite sleeping in the boy’s dormitory. It would be another sleepless night for you, it seemed.
When James stretched his arms to reach for you about four hours later, he frowned and sat up, confused at the lack of your presence. He pushed the red drapes aside and peeked into the room. Sirius was still asleep, face down. Peter was most likely curled up inside the pile of blankets on his bed and Remus was sitting up in bed, a book in his lap.
Even though it was the weekend, and you were anything but an early bird, you slipped out of bed in the early morning. You were sure that your eyes were red and puffy and didn’t want James to mention it.
He looked up when he heard James and raised his eyebrows in question when he noticed no one else behind him. “Have you seen Y/N?” James asked, sleep still heavily laced in his voice. Remus shook his head in thought. “No,” he whispered quietly, an eye on Sirius beside him. “I’ve been up since four in the morning though.”
James’ frown deepened. That meant that you had snuck out before that. But why? He got dressed impressively fast and descended the stairs to the common room. You were sitting at the tip of your chair, deeply engrossed into your transfiguration assignment, several books piled, some laying open, scattered across the small table.
You felt two arms securely wrap around you, almost melting in their designated position. “Morning,” James kissed your cheek.
You bit your lip, took a breath, and cast your hurt feelings aside. You turned your head and flashed him a smile. “Good morning, Jamie.” James took the opportunity of your head, tilted upwards at him, and dipped down to press his lips softly against yours, pecking you once, twice. “You’re up early,” he commented and nudged you. He slipped behind you, body fully relaxing into your back now.
“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied honestly and you leaned back into him. You laughed softly when you noticed his eyes drooping. “You’re tired, Jamie. Go back to sleep.” James made a sound but didn’t move, instead slouching even more against you.
“Hm, no, I missed you this morning. I’ll stay here,” he decided and drifted off to sleep. You didn’t doubt that he loved you.
“Go on a date with me next Friday,” James asked you while he was escorting you to your herbology class. You looked up at him surprised. “A date?” you dumbly repeated, trying not to be too excited about the prospect of a date. James usually ended up having things to do that he really couldn't get out of, so you would always end up canceling your dates.
James laughed and slung his arm around your shoulders. “Exactly. You and me alone. I was thinking of a picnic by the lake, no one else around, and maybe we could snog, but I’m also down to cuddle.” Your eyes crinkled up amusedly. “Don’t you have Quidditch, Jamie,” you raised your eyebrows. “You always have Quidditch practice after class,” you pointed out.
“Not next Friday. I already checked to make sure I didn't double book anything, and I warned Pads that I'm not taking on any new pranks until next week to avoid detention.” he grinned. “Friday will be one of those rare days when I have time to have my girl all to myself the entire afternoon.” His face then turned apologetic. “I know I don’t have much time to take you out, so Friday'll be perfect and I’ll make it up to you.” You threw your arms around his neck and hummed appreciatively in it. “I’d love that.”
James wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a kiss. “Prongs!” Sirius shouted from a distance. “Everyone is already waiting for you for Quidditch practice, how far are you going to escort her? I mean the greenhouse is on the other side of Hogwarts, mate,” Sirius complained but he blew you a dramatic kiss that James waved away with a sour look.
“Go on,” you laughed and untangled yourself from his arms. He quickly pressed a kiss to your lips and sprinted off towards the Quidditch field.
James dropped into the seat next to you. “Long time no see, love,” he said. You snorted. “James, I saw you two hours ago.” James shrugged, and flirtily smiled. “I said what I said.”
Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and class started. You were jotting down everything she said in a neat handwriting, knowing that James would end up asking to lend your notes, of course by offering kisses in return.
You glanced beside you and were surprised to find him hunched over his notebook, scribbling away. Impressed at the thought that he was actually paying attention, you couldn’t help but peer down at his notes and saw that he was sketching a girl.
Though he wasn’t the greatest artist, you could clearly see that the girl on the paper looked nothing like you, and instead had features that were strikingly similar to Lily. When James looked up from his drawing and glanced to his right where she was sitting, her eyes focused on Professor McGonagall, you felt your heart constrict again, but still decided not to comment on it. He was free to draw whoever he felt like drawing, you reminded yourself.
Jealousy is ugly.
You were sitting in the library, helping a third year with Defense against the dark arts theory, when James barged in, earning several disturbed looks and a threatening glare from the librarian.
“James?” you called to him quietly and motioned for him. James’ eyes spotted you and he slid over to you, wringing his hands together, biting his lips and his eyes darting around.
“You’re nervous,” You remarked while you eyed him up and down. “Or you feel bad. What is it?”
James let out a deep sigh at your bluntness, though he supposed it would be better to get straight to the point. “We can’t go on a date next week, I’ve got prefect stuff, gotta patrol.” You stared at him, your disappointment was visible on your face and James looked at the ground.
“But you already had patrol this week? Isn’t it every other week?” You asked, a bummed out look on your face.
“Well, actually, Lily asked me if I could do rounds with her next week,” he admitted. “Her usual assigned partner was injured during Quidditch practice apparently.”
“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You were pretty sure she could ask anyone else for next week or just do the rounds herself as you’ve seen James do it alone for two weeks too when his assigned partner had gone home for a family emergency.
“Is it really vital that you have to go?” You couldn’t help but ask.
"I already said yes." James offered an apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can go on a date the week after.” There was a pause and then, “Actually that’ll probably have to wait for the week after that.”
'Imagine having to schedule a simple date, three to four weeks in advance and even then not being guaranteed that nothing would come in between,' you sighed.
You shrugged, a sudden wave of defeat and exhaustion crashing over you. Why did you have to compete for your boyfriend in the first place? 'How tiring', you realized.
You waved him away. “It can’t be helped, I guess,” you somewhat coldly told him, and turned back to the student next to you who was awkwardly looking away. James stood next to you in silence for a moment, still looking at you. You looked up at the lack of the sound of receding footsteps and looked at him questioningly, waving your hand in a ‘what is it?’ manner.
“I can tell her no,” James said, something that looked like a pout on his face. He hated making you feel bad, despite constantly but unconsciously doing it.
“You don’t want to tell her no,” you retorted.
"I would for you.”
“Well, considering that you haven’t told her no by now and are instead here telling me that we have to rearrange our plans, I think you should just go help Lily with rounds.”
James was taken aback by your bitter tone, eyes immediately wide, alarmed that you were really affected by his decision. “Love, I-“
You waved your hand again. “No, I’m sorry,” you apologized before he could. You rubbed your eyes in an exhausted manner. Jealousy was not a good look, you reminded yourself again. “Just really looked forward to that picnic with just you and me.”
“We’ll still have that picnic another time though,” James tried to assure you, but you were no longer looking at him. He realized that the conversation was over and that you wanted to be left alone right now.
“I love you,” James tried one last time and you sighed. " I love you more.” Your words resonated even after James left, knowing that they might be more true than you wanted to admit. You cleared your throat and when you faced the girl next to you, she shot you a sympathetic look.
The last drop was during Potions class. Potions was something you were good at. Maybe not better than Severus Snape, but you did excel in it.
So, if there was one class in which you expected James to want to be your partner, it was Potions class. Perhaps it was arrogant of you to assume such a thing, because when Professor Slughorn had announced that everyone would be paired up, and asked James who he wanted to partner up with, you hadn't expected him to glance at Lily first, which resulted in Professor Slughorn pairing the two together before James could say your name, which in his defense, was what he was planning on saying.
Without sparing you a glace, he left your table to take the seat next to Lily's. Sure, it was mostly a miscommunication issue on Slughorn's part, but did James have to skip over so happily?
“Love you so much, Lily.”
The words repeated in your head when you saw him look at her so fondly and before you could stop yourself, you scribbled a message on a piece of paper, in which you asked him to meet you in the tower, before sending it his way.
You had clung onto James because you were absolutely in love with him and refused to lose him. But it really was a futile battle, you would never compare to her. His first crush, first love, first kiss if you count that one time during ‘spin the bottle’ and his first heartbreak. You’ll always be second, even if he genuinely loves you.
James snapped his head up at you from his attempted conversation with Lily when he got your note, suddenly remembering you, but you were laughing, engrossed in a conversation with a flustered Peter who had almost set the two of you on fire by adding the wrong ingredient. When you left class, you saw James and Lily still talking while calmly packing up.
James entered the tower, holding the note that you had passed him during class. He was smiling cheekily and quickly skipped over, arms ready to wrap around your waist as he leaned in for a kiss, no doubt thinking you asked him to sneak away for a snog.
“We need to talk,” you stopped him, and his grin fell from his face, a serious expression now adorning it. “Everything alright love?” he asked, an odd feeling growing inside of him at your tone. He was suddenly rather unsure if he really wanted to.
'Nothing better than to rip the band aid off', you thought.
“I want to break up.”
There was a long moment of silence while James was registering your words, repeating them in his head over and over again to see if there was any chance that he could have interpreted that incorrectly.
“What?” He eventually said out loud in disbelief. Though he wanted to step forward, reach for you and hold you tightly as if to show that he wouldn’t let you go, his body was inwilling to move.
“Why are y-, I thought we were good?” The crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your heart ached for him, but you were determined to stay strong and say your piece for once. To voice your thoughts and go through with tough decisions that you knew would be for the better.
“We’re not, James,” you sighed. “I know that you know that.”
James shook his head in denial. “No, I don’t know that,” he insisted. His brain was racking through all the instances where he did something wrong and - with the exception of next Friday's date - came up blank.
“But you love me,” he stated, mostly to himself, but it came out more of a question. “Of course,” you confirmed without hesitation.
James’ body finally unfroze, and he surged forward, his hands fumbled to hold your hands. “And I love you,” he stressed, panic starting to rise up. “I love you so much, I’ll take a Veritaserum potion if you want. I just, why would you-, I don’t understand the problem-,”
“I know you love me, James. The problem is that I love you so much more,” you calmly interrupted him. James’ eyes scanned your face to look for answers because none of it maded sense to him.
“I want someone who loves me as much as I love him. Someone who gives me all his love, not just a part that he managed to set apart for me too. And I want to be loved first. Not second. I don't want to be a consolation prize because your first option didn't work out.”
James’ eyes flickered in realization, but his head was still shaking in denial. “I am that someone,” he urged, trying to convince you. He shot you a pleading look. “I love you first, I swear.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and you pulled it away from his grasp.
“Not first,” you shook your head sadly. “Not when you call for Lily in your sleep, and whisper that you love her.” You watch as James’ frown deepened, mixed expressions crossing his face in surprise, confusion and even bewilderment.
Would he not even admit it?
“Not when you have us rearrange our plans for her, when you draw portraits of her during class, or when you practically jump to be her potions partner. I'm not stupid, James. I see the way you look at her.” You continued to list off the things that happened just this past week, not even bothering to mention all the things that bothered you the past months. Your eyes looked sad and tired, and you took another deep breath. “So, I want to break up.”
James felt like crying, his mind thinking back to everything you said, and knowing that you were right. “I’m sorry,” he tried. “I’m an absolute twat, I know that. I promise you I don’t love Lily, she’s just still very important to me.” You offered him a sympathetic smile.
“I know she’s important to you, I just think that maybe you don’t know what or who you want. And I won’t share my boyfriend anymore, I’m selfish like that,” You joked halfheartedly. James didn’t react, save for wrapping his arms around you. You allowed James to embrace you and he buried his head in your hair, his eyes closed as if he wanted to go to sleep and forget this was happening.
“Okay,” James whispered. What else was he supposed to say?
You closed yours as well. James would get over you in no time, you were certain. You two hadn’t been dating for that long, and perhaps James could find a happy ending in Lily after all.
James had sort of avoided you after that. You thought he was doing it because he was angry, but in reality, he was just scared that he would burst into tears the moment he saw you, and he refused to watch you laugh happily, swatting your friend while he wanted nothing more than to hold your hand again.
His mind had completely become occupied by you and he stayed in bed over the weekend, mostly wallowing in self-pity and misery.
When Monday started, he had skipped all classes and only dragged himself out of bed for Quidditch practice and patrol with Lily. Walking next to her in silence, occasionally glancing at her, he felt his stomach sink again. How ironic that when he looked at Lily, all he could think about was you.
James walked through the corridor on Friday, on his way to the courtyard to meet up with Lily again to do rounds with her. He hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully without you. At first, he had been thinking about every instance where he prioritized Lily over you, and it had him curse himself out in his pillow. He missed you. It was so ridiculous, but he missed you to the point that he would curl up in bed with a stomach ache.
He had finally drifted off when at some point in the middle of the night, he had been shaken awake by Sirius.
“What?” James had asked, his throat dry and raspy. He’d looked around, disoriented.
“Thought you were having a nightmare Prongs. You kept mumbling her name. How much you loved her,” Sirius had handed James a glass of water.
James became wide awake and sat up straight in panic. “Lily?” He had asked Sirius, his stomach turning with nausea. He still couldn’t believe that he really talked about Lily in his sleep when you were lying next to him.
“What? No, Y/N’s name of course.” Sirius had corrected him. 'Of course,' James shook his head at Sirius’ words. “Figured you were reliving your breakup,” Sirius had explained.
James was looking through the passing windows of the castle where he could see the lake in the far distance. Suddenly something in his brain clicked. What in Godrick's name was he doing, avoiding you? Why was he giving up on you without a fight? You both loved each other; he was just the idiot who couldn’t sort himself out. But it didn’t take him longer than a terrible week to open his eyes.
James’ pace increased and he ran through the corridor. “No running in the corridors young man,” a portrait commented, but he paid it no mind.
Lily was already waiting for him and raised her eyebrows at his disheveled state and the basket that he was carrying. “I can’t do rounds with you today,” he puffed out. “I told Y/N that I would take her out for a picnic and then you asked me if I could help, and I agreed, but it’s so stupid because I should be-, I am choosing her,” James ranted. “I’m not letting you come first, or even second.”
Lily wasn’t really sure what James was rambling on about but gave him a kind smile, nonetheless. “Well, what are you waiting for,” she encouraged him. “Sounds to me like you shouldn’t be here, but somewhere else.”
“Yeah, I definitely should.”
You sat by the lake, skipping stones from a sitting position, not that you were having any luck. You hadn't seen James in a while because he avoided you, and you felt sadness wash over you. You were sure that he would get over you quick enough, but you wondered how long would it take for you to get over him?
You heard rustling behind you but kept facing forward. It was only when a delicious smell reached you, that you turned around, slightly annoyed that someone would really choose this spot to have an afternoon meal at when they could’ve sat literally anywhere else near the lake, as well as choose this moment when you wanted to act like a depressed main protagonist gazing in the distance.
You were, however, not prepared to see James stand behind you, out of breath and making his way over to you, a blanket and food spread out behind him. He didn’t really need to say anything. You understood from the way he showed up here, a hopeful expression on his face.
Your heart skipped a beat, and you got up, dusting yourself off.
"Hi," James breathed. An unsure smile formed on his face when you waved back. "I uh, I brought food." He awkwardly motioned to the picnic behind him and you couldn't help but smile at his adorableness.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else,” you couldn’t help but lightheartedly remark. James let out an airy chuckle, immediately relaxing at your open demeanor.
“100% sure I’m where I should be,” he affirmed. He considered his words and corrected himself. "Where I want to be."
His words had you take off in a sprint towards him and James opened his arms to catch you when you jumped, locking your legs around him. Ironically enough, it felt as if a weight had fallen off of James. His head fell against your shoulder and he shakily laughed while your blouse stained with tears of relief.
"I'm really sorry," he looked up at you, still holding you steadily. You leaned down to press your forehead against his, and your hands came up to his cheeks. "You made up your mind," you said, but it came out like a question, and James nodded hastily.
"And you'll make it up to me."
"Of course," he earnestly replied. "I want us. I'll fight for us." You closed the gap between the two of you.
“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against your lips.
Not first or second, not more, most or less. He just loves you.
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lost-inthemeadow · 5 days ago
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Till I have no choice but to do us part - Agathario
Summary: A 4 part rewrite of episode 9 of Agatha All Along because we deserved so much better than what we got
Features Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal
Chapter three: If one be gone, we carry on. Spirit as our guide
word count: 9384
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Her son's grave was the only world Agatha knew. She could not speak or move away from the flowers that covered him, so she stared at them all day. In her head, his voice haunted her, singing about the witches' road over and over again. Rio had told her about their last moments together—about the road she made for him and his fondness for it—so the tune became unbearable, but she could not stop it. Three nights went by before fatigue took over, and even then, only Rio's arms could bring her rest.
The green witch was not one to break a promise, so despite the heaviness in her chest, she cared for Agatha as she had sworn to all those times at their flower altar. Though all she wanted was to curl up right next to her wife in the dirt of their garden; she cooked, gathered, and cleaned, never daring to give herself a moment of rest. She took care of the bunny, too, who sat by Nicholas' door and stared at it, waiting to be let in. He would sniff and listen for the boy, trying to find him around the house, no matter how many times the green witch redirected him with a carrot. Keeping busy was the only thing that distracted Rio from the empty room in their home: the bed that would never be used again, the drawings he didn't get to finish, the toys that collected dust, and the dent on the mattress that forever kept his memory. She mourned the loss of their son every waking moment, and Death never sleeps. She would keep the flowers in the garden freshly bloomed, for they were now Nicky's, and sometimes, she, too, would stare at the grave, cursing her duty with all she was.
It was only after the eighth day—when Agatha stood up from the dirt and brought herself inside their home—that Rio allowed herself to think of all the souls that waited on the other side. She did not want to guide them anymore, for every single one would remind her of their son, but duty waits for no one. That night, after her love fell asleep, the green witch wore her cape once again and left to claim her souls. Ten, thirty, forty-five were all she could manage before morning came, and when it did, she returned home to care for her wife again.
Agatha did not notice Rio's absence until a month later when a nightmare took away her sleep in the middle of the night. She searched the cabin from top to bottom, checked the garden and even the lake, and when she realized the green witch was gone, she sat on the porch to wait for her return.
In the morning, when the sun rose lazily in the sky, Rio's heart stopped at the sight of her wife.
"You left," Agatha accused, her eyes vacant even though they were looking right at Rio.
Rio did not speak until she was in front of Agatha, holding her by the waist softly. "I had to."
"Were you claiming souls?" she inquired.
"Yes. I could not bear to leave you for a whole week, so I've been reaping at night while you—"
"At night? Every night? How long for?"
"Ever since you left the garden."
Agatha stared into her brown eyes, becoming completely silent. After a few seconds, her hand moved to her wife's hair and stroked it gently.
The green witch could see the idea forming behind Agatha's eyes, but she spoke before Rio could ask: "Take me, too."
"What?" Rio did not understand the request initially.
"Take me like you took him."
Rio's knees started shaking, but she remained in place. She knew Agatha was blinded by her pain, so she did not take the request personally. "It's not yet your time, my love."
"Does it matter? I belong only wherever he is."
She took Agatha's hands in hers. "You belong here, in our home. You belong with me."
Agatha nodded, removing her hands from Rio's grip, and dragged her feet back inside without saying another word.
That night, the younger witch laid in their bed with her eyes wide open, watching as her wife prepared to leave.
"I can stay, if that's what you desire. We can go outside and lay in the snow to watch the stars." Rio offered.
"No. Go reap your souls," replied Agatha.
"Are you certain? I could—"
"I am."
"Okay." The green witch kissed her wife's forehead. "Te veo, mi amor," she said with a half smile.
Agatha's eyes had lost their glow. They were focused on the pillow next to her, avoiding looking at Rio's face. "Goodbye."
Rio tried her best to understand Agatha and the distance she started putting between them. She remained patient and caring once her wife decided to care for Nicky's garden on her own, and did not complain when she grabbed the bunny and banished him from the house. Despite her best efforts, nothing worked to get her love back.
What she did not know was that the younger witch could no longer bear to look at her. Every time she did, Agatha only saw Nicholas. They were too much alike, not only in features but in personality as well. She took charge of the garden because Nicky's love for it came from Rio. She kicked Señor Scratchy out because she could not stand the memory of her wife helping the boy convince her to keep him. Nicholas was in every corner of their cabin, but she never felt him as close as when she laid eyes on Rio, and it was killing her. Sometimes Agatha thought about the conversation they had the night before he got sick: about having more children. It pained her deeply that she would never allow herself to bear another child, for the thought of them resembling the green witch again brought chills down her spine.
As the younger witch further isolated herself, Rio took longer to return home from guiding the dead. She was no longer there at sunrise, but instead returned way past noon; after lunch; and then when the sun painted the whole sky with colors of goodbye. Eventually, she would leave for days at a time. It was not that she didn't want to stay, but it became too much for her to see Agatha go about her day, unable to look her in the eye even once.
Dealing with grief in the most harmful way, Agatha's sadness turned into anger. She needed someone to hold accountable, and who better than the woman who had taken her son to the other side? Blaming her was much easier than accepting the fact that neither of them could have done anything for their son. She broke her promise—the one she had made after Nicky was born—for she had sworn she understood Rio's duty. But the pain had blinded her, and by doing so, it forbade her from seeing that her wife was grieving, too.
There were days in which the sadness came back, and only then Agatha allowed Rio to get close again. The green witch wasted no time in wrapping her in her arms, holding her as close as their bodies allowed them to until the tears went away and the fire returned.
Spring had already brought new life when Agatha was on her way home after visiting town to get some cheese and eggs. Hidden within the trees, her son's lullaby reached her ears. She stopped in her tracks, for she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. The forest was singing it to her, every verse and every note. She dropped the supplies and ran in its direction, following the melody like a cat hunting a rat, until she reached the source. There, she realized it was not the trees, but a young lady that picked dandelions carelessly. Agatha hated the big hat that covered her head, but she still crept up to her, startling the stranger.
"Heavens! I didn't hear you behind me," said the woman, placing her hand on her heart. She stood up, fixing her dress.
"That song. Tell me how you know it."
The lady only had to glance at her companion for a few seconds to know she was a witch, too. "Every witch with ears knows it, ma'am! I don't suppose you know the way?"
"The way to what?" Agatha spat.
"The witches' road, of course!" The young woman's cheerfulness was starting to vex Agatha. "The road offers a prize worth the peril to witches who are brave and true. I am in great need, but none of my sisters know how to get to it."
That's when Agatha realized that all those times Nicky performed his song in the town to get coins for milk and candy had made it popular among the nearby witches. They could not resist the temptation of a road that offered them glory and power, even if it meant going through the trials Nicky had made up. They, of course, would never know of the nights in which Agatha, Nicky, and Rio sat on his bed and came up with new witches to make them go on the road, but she saw an opportunity right there and then, and she was not one to waste such easy prey.
"You inquire in good faith," Agatha commented, grabbing a lock of her hair and playing with it. "So I shall respond in kind. Of course I will show you the way to the road. I know it by heart. But we need your sisters."
And so Agatha lured the four witches into the forest, promising them the glory of unlimited power and wisdom. There, as the trees danced with the wind, they joined hands and stood forming a perfect circle. The way to the road was simple, she had told them. Just by singing the song, with a true coven and the will to get to the end, a door would appear before their eyes. Agatha felt chills down her spine when the other women started chanting Nicky's lullaby, for they knew every word by heart.
When their voices faded into the air, the women looked around, trying desperately to find the door. Agatha's theatrics were perfect, for she frowned and huffed and protested loudly, using with the witches the same words her mother had used with her all those years ago. Pathetic, unworthy, embarrassing she called them; she did so over and over again, blaming them for their failure.
The other witches' ambition was so big that the rage for the broken promise consumed them in a matter of seconds. They could not stand Agatha's accusations, for the road was the thing they wished most, so they snapped back. Their magic was not much—it was insufficient and pitiful—but when they aimed it at Agatha, the pleasant and addicting feeling she so loved when she was younger consumed her all over again.
This time, it was Rio who waited on the porch floor, with her legs crossed and her fingers tapping the wood anxiously. She was afraid, for the thought of Agatha not coming back haunted her like a bug during summer. Had she been too cruel? Had she been too selfish, leaving for so long?
But come back Agatha did, and the smile on her face, lit by the moonlight, disconcerted Rio. She stood up and waited for her wife to reach her, though she sensed it from the moment her silhouette appeared within the trees.
"You bring my smell on you. You killed again," Rio remarked, silently enjoying the scent.
"Yes," Agatha replied, speaking to her wife for the first time in weeks. "And it felt better than I remembered."
"I will collect your victims. Would you care to join me?" Inquired the green witch, offering her hand for Agatha to take.
The younger witch stared at it for a few seconds—her lips pursed slightly—then smiled. "I would love to," she confessed, joining their hands.
Agatha's touch felt like a thousand lightning bolts on Rio's body. She could never get enough of it as it was, but now that she had gone so long without it, having it again was as addicting as power was for her wife.
Rio conjured her torch and together they walked between the trees until they reached the four bodies. They were doing it again: killing and reaping together as they were always meant to. The green witch felt hopeful as she guided the four women toward the light, for she finally saw a future in which she and Agatha could be happy again.
It was that same hope for the future that led her not to complain when her wife told her how she had used their son's song to get her prey. She loved killing and taking souls, but the ballad was Nicky's only. It was meant for the summer nights staring at the stars, winter mornings curled up in bed, and afternoons in which they all played while Nicky took his bath. It was not meant to kill. The ballad was pure, it was innocent. Still, she stayed silent.
Agatha no longer needed Rio for her ruse, so two days later—when they went out to hunt—the green witch stood in the shadows and watched with a heavy heart as the six sisters of the craft her wife had gathered sang their son's song. She tried with all her strength to hear his voice over theirs, but it was impossible. They had taken it from him. The road was no longer his.
Coven after coven, Agatha took all the magic she could. Rio would always stand by, allowing her beloved to enjoy the experience fully before claiming her prize. Afterward, they would return to the cabin, hands interlaced, and surrender to each other completely.
The younger witch consumed so much power it started consuming her instead. Killing seemed to be all they did now. Agatha feared that stopping would bring bad memories back, so when they were not executing witches, they were tracking, studying, and finding them. Rio grew tired of this system, for her hope for things to be normal again still lived strongly in her heart. Deep inside, all Agatha wanted was her son back. Rio did too, of course, but she knew he was gone forever. What she wanted was Agatha back. Neither of them obtained what they wished for.
The truth was that the more witches she extinguished, the more Agatha saw Rio only for her duty. In her eyes, her wife was only there to clean up her mess once she got what she wanted. Agatha tried, she really did, to feel the fire in her chest again. She looked for the answer in Rio's lips, in her eyes, and in her hips, but the feeling of familiarity, the certainty that her wife was good, had vanished.
Rio, on the other hand, was growing worried. Power was driving them away. It was changing Agatha. She knew how hungry for it her wife had always been, but she was now drowning in it, leaving no space for anything else.
"Agatha," Rio called as they walked back to the cabin. "I think it would be best if we took a few days off from hunting. Let's stay in bed, swim in the lake, take walks in the forest."
"What are you talking about?" Agatha asked.
"I think you have enough power to allow yourself some rest. Do you not think the same?"
"Absolutely not. I am no longer the woman who made you dresses and waited for you patiently on the porch. I want more. I need more."
But Rio could not stay silent for another second. She stopped, closing her eyes to avoid seeing Agatha's reaction to her words: "Do you? Or are you using this obsession to dull the pain?"
Agatha stopped—dead in her tracks—as well. "How dare you? How dare you speak about it?"
Rio did not want to fight. "I'm just worried about you; about what this will do to you."
"What it will do is help me forget that he is gone. It will help me focus on something other than the fact that you took him!" Her voice echoed in the treetops.
Rio stayed silent for a few seconds, seeing hatred on the blue eyes that had always offered her love. "I know you do not mean that."
"I mean every word of it, Death."
It was as if Rio's blackened heart had been stabbed with her own dagger. "My name is Rio. You gave me this name."
"And I get to take it, too. Just like you did him."
Rio ached so much that she feared she would become mortal, so she vanished in front of Agatha's eyes. The younger witch stomped back to the cabin, fighting against the knot that quickly formed in her throat. It would be time for tears later. She realized she needed to wake up from the dream she had lived for sixty years. She thought herself a fool for ever believing her happiness could last forever and cursed the day in which she allowed herself to think she belonged in a coven. She loved Rio fiercely, maybe even too much, but the hole that Nicholas left in her heart was much too big to allow that love to thrive. Was there a point to living with somebody you have to use all your strength to look at?
She packed a bag with a few of the dresses she had made, leaving everything else behind. She wanted to forget about the cursed cabin she once called home, for her feet would bring her right back if she thought too much about it. She wanted to start over, to focus only on her craft. She thought of leaving a letter but could not come up with anything to say, so instead took the wooden ring off her finger and left it on the porch. Her heart was hers only again.
She walked to the garden and kneeled by Nicky's grave, kissing his resting place, and apologized to him:
"I hope one day you will forgive me, son, for I have to depart. I cannot come back to visit you, but I promise to keep you in my heart until it beats no more. Your-" she sighed, allowing herself to mention her one last time. "Your Mamá will take care of you. Please, Nicky, if you can hear me, take care of her as well."
And so she grabbed her bag and left her home, burying the memories she had made in it with her son's corpse. Agatha and Rio had promised each other that as long as they were together, they would be okay. But the other's company had become so painful that the only way to be fine again was to drift apart.
When Rio returned, she dragged her feet on the forest floor, dreading the moment she'd have to see the look on Agatha's face again. Instead, she found the ring waiting for her, sitting on the porch, and understood right away that she would never have to again, for Agatha had left. Her knees became too weak and she fell on the grass as she held the band close to her, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Her eyes closed, looking for Agatha, making sure she was okay. She found her ten miles away, with tears in her eyes and a bag in her hands, and fought against every inch of her body that wanted to run after her. She loved her too much not to respect her wishes.
Agatha hunted more than ever, killing as much as every other day. She'd encounter the occasional warlock or wizard, but witches were her strong suit. The ballad was the perfect bait, for almost every single one of her victims knew it by heart. Soon, it lost all its previous meaning. She no longer thought of her son every time she sang it, but of all the power still out there for her to steal. She buried his memory, as well as Rio's, deep inside, leaving space in her mind only for her addiction. Magic just felt too good to focus on anything else. Still, she could not help but miss her past every time she took a coven and the magic pushed her backward, making her fall on the floor. She missed the arms that used to catch her more than she cared to admit.
When the memories became too much, she consulted spell books until she stumbled across an ancient incantation that promised to leave no trace of her past in her mind, but using it meant forgetting not only Rio but Nicky as well. She would not remember his brown hair and bright smile, his melodic voice, and his funny laugh. She considered it for just a second before deciding she could not lose him a second time, even if it meant living with the torment of Rio's presence for the rest of eternity.
Ten years went by, and the green witch took care of every single coven Agatha annihilated. She made sure to arrive only after her once wife had left so as not to disturb her. She kept a close eye on her love—ensuring her safety as well as her sanity—but never dared to let herself be seen. Sometimes she visited at night, when the younger witch slept on the forest floor, and always grew a flower for her to wake up to. She was careful, artful, and clever when it came to not letting Agatha see her, which is why she was so surprised when she was caught arriving to take her most recent kill.
While Agatha had tried to erase Rio, she missed her excessively. Deep inside, though she denied it, she expected her to come running after her, to beg for her to come back. She knew the green witch was keeping an eye on her, having noticed the blossoms and the warm feeling of her presence every time she rose from her slumber.
"Agatha..." Rio was so surprised that no other words could come from her lips.
"M'lady," Agatha greeted. "Come to clean up my mess?"
"I- yes."
"Very well. I will leave you to it, then." Agatha was not one to beg, but she knew Rio was.
"How have you been?" Rio called to stop Agatha from leaving, reaching for the space between them.
"More powerful than ever." Agatha's smile had an eerie feel to it now.
"I know that," Rio admitted, for she had witnessed it all.
"I know you have been following me." Agatha still did not dare to say Rio's name.
"You do? I've been so careful."
"And yet, I know you like the palm of my hand." Agatha got closer, lifting Rio's chin with her index finger. The green witch closed her eyes instantly, having longed for her lover's touch from the moment she left. "Have you missed me?" Agatha whispered in Rio's ear, knowing each of her weak spots.
"Tremendously."
On the forest floor, in one of Rio's flower beds, both witches showed each other how much their bodies yearned for this encounter. Neither of them had laid with another woman since they were together last, so they made up for lost time for the rest of the night. Agatha left with the moon, not staying to see the sun return, but before she left, she gave Rio hope like she had not felt in years:
"Until next time, beautiful," she said, smiling at Rio's naked body before disappearing between the trees.
It was no reconciliation, but Rio was still glad every time she found Agatha waiting for her by the corpses of a new coven. They would meet every few months, always when Agatha decided, and sometimes would watch the stars wrapped in the other's arms like they used to years ago. Fifty years went by too quickly for Rio's liking, and suddenly, they had been away from their cabin for as long as they had lived in it. Agatha started staying longer. One day, two, five; a whole week when she was in a good mood. Occasionally, she allowed Rio to help her, and together they would use the ruse they came up with during their first years.
Agatha's fame had grown as much as her power, and with it came problems for her strategy. Some witches escaped her trap over the years, so word about her true intentions spread like a plague among sisters of the craft. Still, she had no problem finding believers, but she now had to deal with those who distrusted her.
During the Louisiana Purchase, she ran across a coven as powerful as their name was absurd. "Daughters of Liberty" they called themselves. The women, eight in total, had been studying her as much as she had them, for they had sworn to destroy any witch who dared turn on her kind. They were careful never to let her see their true intentions, and instead, perked up her interest by using themselves as bait. When their plan came to fruition, they followed her into the forest and sang the ballad along with her. For the first time, it was Agatha who fell into a trap, for they did not attack with magic, but with weapons.
They had heard stories of a witch who killed to gain power and were not going to tolerate even one more death within their kind. They heard about her evil past, her cruel mother, and the fifty years in which she had disappeared, leaving no trace. They conspired and plotted, loathing her and what she stood for. Their only mission was to erase any evidence that Agatha Harkness ever walked the earth, and they had to start by taking her out of it.
The woman to her right, a middle-aged witch with prematurely grey hair and dark skin, drew a knitting needle from her corset and charged at Agatha, whose only reaction was to protect her face with her arms, receiving the impact of the pointy end right to her elbow. The holler that escaped her throat alerted every animal in a ten-mile radius, but most importantly, it alerted Rio.
What the Daughters of Liberty did not know was that in those fifty years that nobody heard about her, Agatha Harkness had fallen in love with Death. In only a few seconds, Rio was between the attacking witches and her love, protecting her with her own body. She deployed her bony form and smiled at them widely, conjuring her dagger and offering it to her former partner. The other witches had to compose themselves upon seeing Rio and what she meant, but they stood their ground, hopeful that their advantage in number would mean a guaranteed victory. As much as Agatha desired their power for herself, what she wanted more than anything now was revenge, so she accepted the blade gladly. The fight was long and tedious; just the kind they both loved. The coven tried with both magic and weapons, but nothing could beat Lady Death and Agatha Harkness when they joined forces. By the time the last witch was dead, covered in their blood, the younger witch panted as Rio checked her for injuries. Apart from a few scratches and the stab to the elbow, she was unscathed. The green witch tried healing her joint, but Agatha stopped her from doing so.
"No, leave it. It'll be a battle scar," she ordered, and Rio obeyed.
Agatha had to admit she was happiest around Rio, but still, she was not strong enough to let her fully in again. Thirty, fifty, seventy more years passed. They worked and they played; they fought and made up again. Agatha never stopped moving, mostly southwest, and Rio never stopped following. The younger witch's heart was poisoned with both hatred and love. Sometimes, she despised Rio with all her heart and wanted nothing more than to send her where she had taken her son. Others, all their years together caught up to her, and she felt so much love for her she thought her heart would burst. Never in that century did they speak about Nicky, not even once, for they both knew that doing so would break their arrangement and they enjoyed it too much to spoil it.
Agatha, just like she promised, never went back to her son's resting place. He was with her at all times, encased safely in the brooch she took from her mother, and visiting his grave was nothing but a way to let grief take over again. Rio, however—with her ability to go wherever she wanted—visited him often, almost daily. She sat on the dirt, watching how the years turned their home into a dilapidated memory, and told him all about his mother. She kept the flowers in his garden alive and colorful and often took one to give to Agatha on his behalf once they met again, though she never told her where they came from.
They spent years in each other's company, getting used to being a family again. They had started to be happy, but everything good must come to an end.
It was a hot summer morning. The sun coated their bare bodies as they lay together on a bed of tulips. The green witch hummed, eyes closed while her love stroked her arm. They had planned to search for strawberries and eat them with the wine Agatha had stolen the night before but were too lazy to get up just now. The birds sang, the wind blew the tree branches in the way of a song, and it felt like they were back at their cabin. Rio could see them there again: restoring it, making new memories to forget all the bad ones, living like they used to. She was determined to ask Agatha about it, to offer her the life they had once lived. She supported her body with her elbows and forearms on the floor and looked straight into the blue of her eyes, gaining the courage to ask. Suddenly, they heard the bushes Rio had grown around them for privacy rustle, and from them emerged a rabbit—fat and fluffy—that sniffed them from afar.
It was as if Agatha had seen a ghost, as if she believed he would appear running after the animal, scolding it for escaping his vine leash. Her mind rushed as she was reminded of everything from the moment she found out about him to when he went stiff in her arms, and Rio's face was there for every memory: His first steps, the afternoon he learned to swim, the Witches Road she made for him.
The green witch, unaware of all this, smiled as she saw the animal. She wondered what had happened to the real Señor Scratchy, how long he survived in the forest, and if he had found a way to stay alive this long. She stood up and grabbed the critter, petting his soft head, and took him to Agatha.
"He looks familiar, does he not?" she inquired, scratching the rabbit's ears.
The fire had built up in Agatha's chest too fast for her to control, so she got up and gathered her things, not wanting to pick up a fight.
"Agatha?" Rio called. The younger witch had forbidden her from calling her anything else. "I can let him go if he brings you bad memories," she offered.
"I cannot believe you took him," Agatha mumbled, her back to Rio.
"I will release him into the bushes again. Please, come back to bed."
"I do not mean the stupid rabbit. I mean him," the younger witch said, turning around to face her companion.
This was the exact reason why they never discussed him. Rio put the bunny on the floor, but her being a green witch, the animal did not want to leave her side. "Agatha, please. We do not have to do this again. Let me get dressed and we can go for the strawberries."
"There must have been something you could have done. You just left right away. You went looking for a cure instead of staying with us. You did not even attempt to heal him with your magic."
"Because my magic cannot rid mortals of illness, only wounds!" Rio was tired of Agatha always using their son's death against her. "You told me you understood, Agatha. You told me you knew what my job meant I would have to do, yet you continue to blame me for something I had no control over! Do you think that if I could have helped him in any way, I would not have done it in a heartbeat? Do you really think I loved him that little?"
"You do not talk to me about loving a child I brought into this world. I was the one that carried him, the one that fed him and stayed with him whenever you left."
"To do my job! I left to do my never-ending, unavoidable job! Nicky was happy, he was loved! What happened to him was awful, but it was not our fault."
"Are you certain? He was a son of Death, after all. Are you sure your magic was not what brought his demise?"
Rio did not need to breathe, but if all the air in her lungs escaping in a second felt a certain way, it was definitely this. She did not waste any time in leaving, running away to the first place she could think of: home. In the cabin, inside the bed that had not been touched in years, Rio wept as she cursed herself once more.
Had she really been the reason he died? Had he been doomed from the start, just like she always feared?
Agatha only got angrier at her former lover disappearing. She yelled at the treetops, not having been able to say all she wanted to. "Come back, you coward! Come back and face me!"
But Rio did not. Her promise to their son still dwelled on her like a grey cloud in a bright blue sky, but Agatha's words had changed something in her. With Agatha, the first person who saw her beyond the bony figure, she felt not only seen but worthy of being so. She did not feel like the evil lady who tore families apart and took people from their loved ones. She had been a mother, a wife; a woman like any other. Now, with her love's words bouncing inside her skull, she was convinced that humans, always so belligerent and callous, had been right all along. She was a poison, a curse. She knew, deep down, that Nicky's passing could not be avoided, but now every inch of her wondered if that terrible illness had been written in his destiny from the beginning of time, if the fact that she was Death was what condemned him to such a short life.
It would take Rio years to understand that their son had only died because all mortals do. The illness could have come ninety years later, as well as just a few seconds. It had been bad luck, nothing more. However, for now, covered with the sheets that still smelled like home, she felt as small as a Lemna Globosa and as guilty as sin. Eventually, when her legs decided to work again, her feet took her to his grave, and there, she begged for his forgiveness.
"I am sorry, Nicky, for I have to break my promise," she whispered at the azaleas covering his dirt. I fear that if I stay near your mother, I will bring her demise the same way I brought yours. I am sorry that you were born from my magic; I am sorry you were cursed to be my son."
But it had been her distance that had done the most harm. When she left Agatha in that clearing without any plans of returning, she was left vulnerable and approachable, which was just what the book needed.
Most people of the craft think that the Darkhold is something you have to look for, something you climb mountains and walk valleys for. However, the book is impossible to find if it does not wish to be. It only exists for those it wants to, and it had been following Agatha like a hunting dog for centuries. That first night, when she took her mother's life, the young witch sparked immense curiosity in the dark magic behind the pages, but Death had gotten to her first. It had been nearly two hundred years, but Agatha Harkness was finally free for the taking.
It started as a mere idea; a thought on the back of her mind. She wondered, just for a second, if there was a way to keep Rio away for good. The last century she had spent mostly running back into her cold arms, and she knew that if she did not stop herself, she'd do so again. The idea of banishing Death from her life was so stray she could not help but discard it at first, but the book had already chosen her.
The first time she heard about the Book of the Damned, it came from a coven unknowingly following her to their end. One of them—with hair as dark as night and eyes as green as the forest they walked—told her sisters that, should she make it to the end, the book was what she wanted.
"A book with spells so powerful they could turn a man into a monster. What else could a witch want? Asking for power is worthless if you can not do anything with it. The book will give me both."
Agatha was immediately interested, for in the girl's tale, she saw an opportunity like no other to finally rid herself of the haunting possibility of facing Lady Death again.
"Could it ward off Death?" she asked, turning around to face the young witch, startling her.
"I am sure that immortality is one of its multiple perks, ma'am," she replied, not understanding the query.
But Agatha knew the road was not real, so the book—she thought—must also be a ruse; a trifling lie to lure innocents. She took the coven, as she always did, and moved on.
Scholars, fellow witches, children singing about its power. The Darkhold showed itself to Agatha in multiple ways, and though she wondered why it was everywhere all of a sudden, she did not think much of it. The book—smart and persistent—did not refrain. The idea of its existence followed her like a shadow. Doubt started to creep into her mind, eating her alive and showing up in every aspect of her life until it turned into belief and ambition. Did Death know about it? Had she ever come across its pages? Was she immune to its magic? In another time, Agatha would have simply asked, but that was no longer an option. Instead, she researched all she could, but almost everything she found was nothing but lies made up by those who longed for the power it promised.
Though it had seeped into her, the book could only take shape when summoned. The incantation was simple, really; just a few words, but Agatha had no idea what she was looking for. Initially, it tried whispering them in her sleep, but having dreamt of her son almost every night, she had put a spell on herself to never remember what came to her in her slumber. It tried singing it with birds, chanting it in the wind, conveying it with her victims, but nothing got her attention. Desperate, the book recurred its last resort: illusion.
At night, as she freshened up in a lake, she heard steps approaching her, crushing the dead leaves of autumn as they walked. She turned around, ready to use her magic, but was left speechless at what she saw.
It was him. Alive; well. As young as he was when he passed. His chest moved up and down and his eyes blinked.
"Nicky?" she inquired, not believing her eyes.
"Hello, Mama," his voice echoed in the forest. She had not heard it in so long. Her eyes welled up in tears as she ran to embrace him.
His body was warm and his heart beat in his chest. How could this be?
"My boy, how can—"
"I do not have much time. I am here to convey a message." He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. "Sicut dies defluxit et nox apparet, paginae tenebrae ad me tendunt. Say it until you mean it, then you will have all you wish for."
The next thing she knew, before she could utter a single word, Agatha was at the bottom of the lake, drowning in the cold water. She swam up, looking all around for her son, but he was no longer there. The words he had uttered were now engraved in her mind, never to be forgotten, though she did not know what they were for. Still, trusting Nicky, soaked from head to toe, she sat on the grass and chanted his phrase.
"Sicut dies defluxit et nox apparet, paginae tenebrae ad me tendunt."
The only thing she heard afterward were the drops of water from her hair pooling on the forest floor. "Sicut dies defluxit et nox apparet, paginae tenebrae ad me tendunt," she repeated, but again, nothing. Her knowledge of Latin was vast and wide, so she knew the meaning of the words, but she had never heard a spell such as this. "As the day fades and the night appears, pages of darkness tend to me," she attempted in her own language.
Only then did she realize that her son had brought her the book she was searching for. He had given her the gift of knowledge. A spark of hope made way into her heart, for maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to bring him back. This time, knowing exactly what would happen, she stood up—stretching her shoulders and lifting her head into the sky—and chanted the words from the bottom of her heart.
On the other side of the world, Rio was claiming the soul of a farmer, a father of twelve, who passed in his sleep. She had not dared check on Agatha since their last fight, but her presence was still alive in her chest. She felt it, the moment the chant worked, the moment the darkness loomed over her former lover. It was so big, so powerful, but Rio did not understand what it could be. The book was so potent that not even Death knew of its existence, for it had never wanted her to. She realized her mistake right away. She understood why her son had asked her to keep an eye on her once wife, why she was never to leave her side.
"Sicut dies defluxit et nox apparet, paginae tenebrae ad me tendunt!" Agatha screamed at the top of her lungs, and the response was immediate. The book was desperate. Grey clouds covered the sky, and thunder followed soon after.
Rio could move around the globe in a matter of seconds, arriving at her destination whenever she wanted, but Agatha was starting to slip away from her. She moved to the continent, reaching their cabin and trying to find her again. Proximity seemed to help, for she felt her somewhere down south. She reached a beach, then a mountain, then the forest, getting closer each time, but still could not locate her lover.
The moon disappeared from the sky before Agatha's eyes, but the woods were still crystal clear. There, surrounded by nothing but darkness, the Darkhold materialized in front of her, immediately levitating towards her grip.
Almost there. Rio was almost there. She only needed a few more tries.
Agatha received the Darkhold with open arms and a smile on her face, imagining the peace she would get as she reached her true potential. In her hands, the book was big and heavy, and her whole body trembled from the great power she felt within it. The book was closed, patiently waiting for the moment she would first open it.
Agatha was almost completely gone, but Rio still ran across the country, feeling her closer with every passing second. It took her a minute, only sixty seconds, to find her exact location, but by then it was already too late. In the Appalachian forest, surrounded by sugar maples, Rio saw her love encased in a cloud of darkness.
"My love, don't!" she tried to warn, but by the time the last syllable left her lips, her Agatha had faded before her eyes after opening the book, never having heard her admonition.
Desperation overcame her, for the debilitating feeling of a lost connection had returned after all those years. She moved within the trees, calling her lover's name over and over, fighting her body's urge to collapse. Agatha was no longer there; her presence had been ripped from Rio's being like a scab on a child's knee, and she felt she would go crazy without it. The heart that beat on her chest remained in place, but, having lost its fuel, it no longer pumped. Rio wanted to take it out, to extirpate it, and never think of it again, but the hope to get Agatha back did not allow her to do such a thing.
The spells on the book appeared as Agatha turned the pages, translating from a language she had never seen before. They changed for her, adapting to her magic and ambitions, showing her exactly what she wanted. She felt herself hidden, protected, and knew right away that she had gotten her wish without the need to verbalize it. The book knew what she wanted, so it did it for her. She would never have to face Death again, not until her days were over.
Her fingers rushed through the pages, and the first thing she searched for was not how to be invincible or have more power. She wanted her son back. She searched page after page, finding many completely empty, but the Darkhold let her know that as powerful as it was, nothing could undo death. Though her original purpose was simply to keep her former lover away, the disappointment she felt was almost too strong to make her forget about the book, but it called for her, begged her to give it a chance, and Agatha listened.
They became two of the same, never to be ripped apart. Every time she consulted her companion, the empty pages filled themselves with the information needed. The tome focused on her talents, feeding on her instability and using it for its benefit. Agatha, never having been able to neglect her passions, studied endlessly, spending days without any sleep to amplify her knowledge. Though the Darkhold could not bring her son back, it gave her ways to feel him close. It taught her how to bring illusion to life, so she often sat in the empty forest—so late that even the owls were asleep—and toyed with the memory of his voice, his smell, his warmth.
The book had given her the chance to reach him on the other side momentarily, but Agatha, knowing Nicky would be horrified to see what his mother had become, never took the chance. She wanted his rest to be peaceful, at least until she found a way to bring him back for good. What use would it be to do otherwise?
Rio searched the globe far and wide, stopping at every village and each abandoned house, asking every soul she took, and interrogating every dead witch she encountered. None of them were victims of Agatha's magic, which meant she had stopped killing. The green witch did not know anything about her love anymore other than the fact that she was still alive. Had she not been, she would have had to take her already.
After years of searching, having done everything in her power, Lady Death stopped looking. Instead, she decided that working was the only thing left for her to do. And so she worked, day and night, through famines and epidemics, through battles and genocide; never allowing herself a second of rest.
That was, of course, until a coven annihilated by Agatha appeared again.
The Darkhold, used to corrupting its users to get its way, was overjoyed under Agatha's ownership, for the evil and pain inside her were so big that there was no need to take over. They danced together in perfect harmony, and though her fingers had turned black, her magic and abilities had grown so much that such feeble changes did not matter to the witch. After years of studying and preparing, Agatha was ready to use all her new knowledge for hunting. With the book, she did not need to look for victims anymore, for she could now sense sisters of the craft as far as a different continent. One coven, two, three she took in a day.
Rio tended to them like she did everyone else, not expecting anything new. The first thing that caught her attention was the number of witches. She was not stray to lynchings and spells failing, but a whole coven passing at the same time was much too rare. The second thing was the state she found them in, for the women were not sad but angry about their situation. Hope sparked in her chest like the first breath of an evening fire, and she dared to ask. She found Agatha in their tale, in their vexation and the circumstances of their journey to her. It was her. She was back.
The green witch did not let them go until they told her everything they knew, but even after that, she was not left with much. They had seen a book, thick and heavy, appear in Agatha's hands as she took their power, but none of the five witches had any idea as to what the tome could be or where it came from. Rio remembered seeing Agatha with it right before she lost her and knew right away that was the dark presence she had felt lurking over her love. She had never seen something of the like, had never encountered magic so powerful it could keep her away. How long had the book been around? How many people had it concealed from her reach?
Thanks to her few surviving victims, the rumor of Agatha and her almighty companion started to spread like the plague, and as rumors do, it got twisted. Suddenly, everyone talked about how she had obtained the Darkhold and what she had to give to own it. They made up lies about her; about Nicky. Witches all around the world knew of her son, though she did not know how, and spread the lie that she had traded him for the tome.
The inaccurate tale reached Rio as fast as it was created, and she wondered what Agatha thought about it. She made sure to let every witch who came her way know that Nicky had not been a sacrifice but had died a natural death. She would not allow their son's dignity to be affected, and could not understand why Agatha did.
The younger witch had decided that, as much as it hurt, letting everyone think that she had used her son to get the Darkhold was better than the fact that he had died because he was the son of Death. It did not matter what they thought, she repeated to herself, for as long as she knew the truth, she would be okay. Anyone else would have corrected the distortion of her story in a second, making sure people knew of their mistake, but Agatha chose silence.
Rio scoured tirelessly, inquiring to anyone who could help until she came across a name: The Darkhold. The simple mention of it made her whole body weak; more human. Every deceased soul she consulted assured her it was nothing but a rumor. They all spoke of great power concealed within its pages, and of great sacrifice to wield it, but were sure that something so grand could not really exist.
With every day that passed, Lady Death's absence grew heavier in Agatha's chest. She drowned herself in power, focused on nothing but learning, and still, the feeling was driving her insane. She had repeatedly proven to herself that staying away from The Reaper was not something she could accomplish for long, but she still fought the urge to run to her again. However, just like everything else the Darkhold touches, all her obsession did was grow. The company of the pages could not compare to the warmth of her former partner's body on a cold winter night, her soft voice when she looked her in the eye, and the touch of her fingertips on her skin. The book had helped her make the green witch stay away physically, but now it was feeding on the way her heart longed to have her back.
Giving into the feeling, Agatha remained in place after taking a coven, determined to look Death in the eye and decide once and for all what it was her heart wanted, though she already knew the answer. She lingered around the corpses for one hour, two, three, staying the night and half the afternoon, but the souls were never claimed.
The promise the book had made to Agatha could not be broken, for Rio was not able to feel the passing of her victims until she was far away enough not to be seen. Stubborn and hurt, the younger witch continued killing for attention, taking more and more people each time. What started with a coven ended up with whole towns being completely wiped out and even a ship broken in half, but Death never showed up.
Using her newly acquired wisdom, mediumship was the route Agatha chose to take next. Pendulums, trances, séances, and wooden boards with planchettes that move on their own. Agatha tried everything the book suggested, but it was as if Death had completely vanished.
After three decades, her desperation turned into loathing. She stopped searching and started hating again. The hatred and pain within her were to the book like magic was to Agatha, and so the pair remained together through stock market crashes, wars in eastern countries, trips to the moon, new versions of her ballad, and half of the world's population fading into dust. They maintained harmony, walking their path together. But as always, the Darkhold's only interest was power, and soon, Agatha was no longer the most powerful witch on earth.
There was a whole chapter dedicated only to her, and the book felt the exact moment her magic came to be. Agatha had no knowledge of it, but the new witch was its rightful owner, destined to rule over the whole universe. She was somewhere, closer than expected, but her ignorance of her potential made her impossible to find, so the book used its best resource: Agatha. Hidden before, it finally showed her its most important chapter, and in her avarice, the witch was not able to see the book's true intentions. She followed it blindly and guided it right to her.
In a small New Jersey town, after infiltrating her delusional reality, Agatha Harkness fought the Scarlet Witch for her power, wanting it all for herself. She had been betrayed, used as nothing but bait, but she would never find out. The book was now in the Scarlet Witch's hands and Agatha was under her spell, never to be freed from it again.
At least that's what Wanda thought, ignorant of the fact that once the Darkhold's protection faded, Rio's heart started beating again.
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collectingmuses · 2 months ago
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The Last Boy Scout  (  1991  )  sentence  starters  taken  from  the  1991 action  movie.  Violence, self harm mention, and very harsh language TW. Feel free to change pronouns as needed. "__" spaces designate character names for you to add in.
"Nobody likes you. Everybody hates you. You're gonna lose. Smile, you fuck."
"I'm thinking about smoking some cigarettes."
"Wrong place, wrong time. Nothing personal."
"That's what you think. Last night I fucked your wife."
"It just happened, __."
"Bit late for a stroll, don't you think?"
"Coulda happened to anybody. It was an accident, right? You tripped, slipped on the floor and accidentally stuck your dick in my wife."
"I'm not your fuckin' son."
"You think you're so fuckin' cool, don't you?"
"All right, you want it in the chest, or the head?"
"I'm gonna dance a jig, I swear to Christ."
"Shut up, fuckface."
"I'm fuckface. He's asshole."
"Better give up, __. We're dealin' with a couple of geniuses here."
"Water is wet, the sky is blue, women have secrets."
"Yeah, that's what your wife said."
"What'd you do last night?"
"I seem to have dropped my cigarette. May I have another?"
"You touch me again, I'll kill ya."
"At least I liked the guy she was fuckin'. He was my best friend."
"All private detectives are scumbags."
"What are you, my father?"
"I wish that water wasn't wet, I wish the sky wasn't blue and I wish that I didn't still love my wife."
"Right now, I'm trying to figure out which one of you looks the most like my dick."
"__ attacks his job with a certain exuberance."
"He's still in a good mood, __. Kick him again."
"You know what? Fuck you, __. I was lonely!"
"Why don't you just go ahead and hit me?"
"So now you know my name?"
"I told you, if you ever touch me again, I'll kill you."
"Can we do a formal introduction here?"
"Who gives a fuck? You're the bad guy, right?"
"I am the bad guy."
"I'm supposed to be trembling with fear, something like that?"
"Yeah, I believe in love; I also believe in cancer."
"I figure you gotta be the dumbest guy in the world, __."
"Where are you goin'?"
"Okay, what would __ do at a time like this? He'd kill everybody and smoke some cigarettes."
"If you go any faster we're gonna travel back in time."
"You know, for a dancer, he is one hell of a detective."
"This the only kind of music they play in this joint?"
"What, is everybody stupid around here?"
"__, how long have we been friends?"
"You still want the job?"
"500 bucks is 500 bucks."
"You wanna be left alone, don't you? I'll be in the kitchen, over here."
"Good morning, gentlemen. Is there a problem?"
"Too risky, I might start thinkin' about you and slash my wrists."
"Wow, an actual house. I was thinking a cave with… skulls and shit."
"Be prepared, son. That's my motto. Be prepared."
"Oh, you're a lot of fun to be with."
"Go buy yourself a new pair of pants."
"Looks like our evidence got blown up. I think we might have to get some more."
"Just won't let go, huh? You're like a dog with a frisbee."
"Push this vile fuck off the road, man!"
"I've got bad news and bad news."
"Give me the bad news first."
"Since it's the '90s, you don't just smack a guy in the face. You say something cool first."
"I'm drawing them a picture."
"It's called a vocabulary. You got one of those?"
"Sorry, my subscription to JUGGS magazine ran out."
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"Hey, that's not funny, man. I almost bought it there!"
"Tragic loss to the art world, let me tell ya."
"Hey flash, rescue attempt?"
"You got friends? When did this happen?"
"Okay, now that's not polite."
"You're a real bastard, ya know that, __?"
"This ain't no game, flash. Real guns, real bullets. It's dangerous."
"Danger's my middle name."
"She gets evidence to use against 'em, right?"
"What I'm going to do is count to three. Then I'm going to put a bullet in that door."
"The truth is a beautiful thing."
"If I were a cat, I'd purrrrrr."
"Hi, you're nobody."
"Shhh, don't tell anyone."
"Do you want to get kicked off the planet?"
"Water's wet, sky's blue...and ol' Satan Claws, __, he's out there and he's just getting stronger."
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idk-ilike5sos · 2 years ago
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Dear Will,
Before today, it'd been twenty-seven days since I wrote to you last. You’ve never received any of the letters and - as long as I don’t suddenly die before I get the chance to burn them all - you never will. But since eight am, I've already started and torn up five other first-letters-since. I thought it'd be easy to write down how I feel, let everything exist solely as ink on paper, but it's not. I'm learning recently, since you left, that I'm wrong about a lot of things.
This morning I got another letter from Eleven. It's probably the last one I'll get before seeing you both. It's still scary to think that, in a couple of days, we'll be face-to-face again. It's been so long.
One-hundred-and-ninety-two days, at the time I’m writing this. I wonder if it feels like it’s been that long to you.
But, anyway, in that letter, Eleven went over what she usually does: updates me on school, how she's adjusting so well without me, and she lets me know how you're all doing. Joyce likes her new job, Jonathan is stressed about college, and you're painting something you won't let her see.
She told me that you met some girl in California.
I bet she's pretty. She's got the nicest eyes you've ever seen, and you paint them all the time. You've memorized every shape of her face from how much you draw her. She probably has a nice laugh, but you'd tell her it's cute even if she didn't. Everyone loves her and always talks about how kind she is. She's at the top of all her classes. I bet she's popular and a cheerleader or some cliche-equivalent.
I hope she has dark, shoulder-length hair. I hope she has ugly brown eyes. I hope she has a lot of freckles. And I hope she's got "strong cheekbones", as my mom likes to call them. I hope she looks like me.
I know she doesn't. She's probably the complete opposite, which is what hurts even more. Not only do you not like me because I'm a boy, but because of every single little thing about me.
I was in shock when I found out Eleven liked me - because, I mean, it's El, you know?
She's awesome, and I know that. At first, I thought I’d somehow won at life, because I found this incredible girl and everyone kept bringing up how enamoured I was with her. So, I kissed her - and she didn’t even seem disgusted or anything! A little surprised, but not bad surprised, you know?
Then it got even better, because it turned out she liked me back. Isn’t that insane? A girl liked ME. It’s still hard to believe now. Sometimes, I feel like she’s lying every time she signs her letters with “love”.
In the end, I fucked it up anyway. It all started with a lie and I got so caught up in it that I was too scared to start telling the truth. And, contrary to popular belief, the lie that ruined our relationship wasn’t that my nana got sick. It’s that her feelings grew, but mine dissipated because it turns out they were never really there.
So this is me finally telling the truth, even if no one ever gets to hear it.
And the truth is I miss you. I miss us.
When you left, I kept telling myself you'd come back. At night, I'd hold back tears, whispering to myself that you're gonna come back one day. You'll be in Hawkins again, on that old ass couch in my basement - the one only a couple of feet away from me right now. We'd both look a lot older than we did the last time we were here, maybe even older than we do now, but at some point, we'd be back. We'd be as close as we used to be. It'd be like nothing ever changed. And the worst part is, I really believed it would all happen.
But it won't. You're not coming back. You might visit a few times, but eventually, our zero-contact thing will get tiring for you. You'll find a new Party, a better one. And this girl you like is going to be a part of it - because she's perfect, so obviously she loves all the things you love. She loves all the things that we love, that used to be ours.
I'm not angry. I'm trying not to be angry.
It's not easy.
I want you here. I want you with me. I don't want you with that stupid girl.
I hate her. I hate her so much.
Why am I not good enough?
Please, just tell me. I'd do anything to change. I'll be kinder. I'll be smarter. I'll be funnier. I'll give in to Lucas' ideals of popularity. I don't care what. All of it would be worth it.
And if I’m unveiling the truth, I might as well unveil it all. I like you. This letter has probably made that obvious already, but I had to add it. I think I’ve liked you for forever, even if I didn’t realise. Or maybe I didn’t and one day, everything changed. I don't know. Either way, I exist today with that truth. I like you. I like you and not Eleven.
I need you, Will. Even if it’s just as friends, I need you in my life.
I’m really glad you’re not reading this because I sound pathetic. And that’s because I am. I’m a stupid pathetic mess. The basement's a shit hole. My room’s even worse. My grades suck. I never see Dustin, Lucas, or Max outside of school, but I somehow see my family even less. So, I’m more than pathetic. I’m alone. And it’s my own fault.
I think California's been good for you. It got you away from Hawkins. It got you away from me. And it brought you to your dream girl. She must be pretty special. She's lucky. And if it turns out she somehow doesn't like you back, that's on her. She must've lost her mind or never had one in the first place.
If you ever need to talk about it, have a 2,000-mile-away-shoulder to cry on, I'm always waiting by the phone...
Love, Mike
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countrymusiclover · 1 year ago
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17 - The Auburn-hair Girl
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Part 18
Family is More than Blood
@secretdreamlandmentality
3 months later
Getting out of the bed this morning I ran a hand through my hair so it wasn’t such a mess like it was when I first woke up. Klaus was already downstairs dealing with young Rapenzal and Charming who were going through the nightmare phase. Entering the spare bedroom near our master room I kept going in here seeing that someone used to have stuff in here. But it didn’t make any sense when I came across some pictures I didn’t recognize a few weeks ago after we stopped Triaid.
In the photo, a young Auburn-haired girl was standing next to Klaus and Me. I gazed at the photo deeply, getting a strange feeling from the girl as if I was connected to her.
I began to recall seeing tons of photos of the girl around our house. Which didn't make sense since I was fairly sure that we only had five children not six. But maybe my memory was going away. "Mommy, look." Henrik’s voice broke me from my thoughts seeing that he was carrying another drawing in his hands.
He handed it to me so I could see the same exact drawing like all the others. All matching the girl in the photos in the mansion. "Ah, I see what your father would call your muse. Who is she though honey?"
Henrik shook his head. “ I don't know, Mommy. I've been drawing her a lot recently."
I glanced down at the drawing tracing my fingers across it and got a familiar sensation from it. I was cut out of my thoughts by Henrik who was trying to get my attention. “Mommy, is everything okay?“ He asked.
I turned my gaze to my son, smiling at him. “ Yes, my sweet boy. Why don't you go take a shower, I'll start on breakfast."
Henrik nodded running up the stairs. “ Can you make toaster strudels?'
“That's too much sugar for you to consume in the morning.” I said.
“ Please.” He pleaded.
I signed, finally giving in to my son’s pleas. “ Alright, you can have half of it."
Henrik ran downstairs again giving me a big hug around the waist. “ Thank you, Mommy.” You’re the best."
With that, he ran back upstairs heading into his room leaving his mother to her thoughts. Vamping downstairs I found that Klaus was already in the kitchen. "So our little guy wants sugar this morning."
"Apparently yes. But we have to be quick about it. A supernatural school won't run itself. Especially today." I told him.
"Ah yes the game against the humans of this one pony town." Klaus nodded, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Who made the rule that they couldn’t use their powers?"
Tapping my fingers on the counter top I started gathering stuff to make breakfast before we went to work. "I think it was Caroline. Why?"
"I think it wouldn't be bad if we actually won a game for once don't you, Raelyn?" He sends me his devilish smile meaning he wasn’t up to good.
Nodding in agreement I finished the breakfast quickly. "Ah I'll see what I think." Grabbing my cameo jacket we arrived at the school seeing that everyone was already gathered in the main hall with the podium stand in the front of the room.
Moving up in front of it I tapped my foot on the ground getting their attention to focus on me. "Attention everyone, so as we all know today is the annual game between us and Mystic Falls High. And I know that in the past we would lose…until today that is. We will use our powers through the end of the game."
"So you’re going against my dad's wishes." Lizzie got up to her feet.
Nodding yes. "I am Lizzie. We shouldn't have to hide who we are all the time."
"Awe yes!" Kaleb got to his feet cheering. "Thank you headmistress Mikaelson."
Our group of kids headed to the field where I saw that Missy was talking with Ethan so I used my vampire hearing to eavesdrop. "Hey, so who's the new girl you were talking with earlier?"
"Uh, somebody new." He shrugs his shoulders. "She said her name is Hope Parker."
Knitting my brows together I felt uneasy hearing the name Parker on anyone. The entire Parker family was gone now so that couldn't be possible. "Hmm, that's weird. People in my moms family had that name." Missy responded back to the human boy.
"Yeah Maya has been talking with her more than me. You aren't jealous are you?" Ethan asked, chuckling.
She shook her head telling him otherwise but I knew she might be slightly lying. "Nah, E. Just curious cause I feel like I know her from somewhere."
"Rae, Josie are leading the team with Landon." Klaus came over to me with his hands behind his back standing beside me. "Jackson and Alina are going to play too. Hey are you okay?"
Shaking my head I clicked my tongue. "Uh yeah. There's apparently this new girl named Hope Parker."
"But all the parkers are gone besides you and your brother." He added into the conversation.
Putting my arms across my chest I tucked some hair behind my ear. "Yeah. It's just weird because she looks like the girl from Henrik’s drawings. I just don't recognize her though."
"We'll figure it out. Let's focus on the game." Klaus nodded before a whistle was blown signaling for the coin toss.
Missy’s pov
Shifting my gaze away from our team and to Ethan who was sitting on the side lines since he wasn’t going to play with having a scholarship and all. Standing beside my sister on the field we watched Landon tackle a girl with auburn hair where we almost got the ball. But Ethan’s sister got the ball and scored for her team. The whistle blew so I ran over with my sister seeing that Josie was off by herself focusing on Ethan. “I don’t like how she’s looking at him, Lina.”
“Are you saying you’re jealous?” She teased me but I wasn’t in the mood.
Crossing my arms over my chest MG was out on the field now about to get the ball until Ethan managed to knock the ball away from his hands. “I am not jealous, Alina. I just don’t have a good feeling about us using our powers against them is all.”
Lizzie threw the ball and Josie caught it but while she was cheering Ethan snatched the football from her hands. “Josie, what did I just tell you.”
“Hey I want to bury these guys too.” Josie snapped at her twin. “You think I did that on purpose.”
Lizzie and MG ran off the field where Alina and I stepped in their positions. Josie came back over while we saw Kaleb try and tackle my boyfriend but he dodged out of the way. Maya his sister hollered to him before I felt someone siphoning from me. “Ah Joise!” I winced seeing my cousin before she moved around my twin eyeing Ethan.
He halted about to throw the ball to his sister until I heard Josie mumble a spell. “Tenebris lapsus.” Ethan dropped the ball and held his elbow in agony.
“Oh my god.” His mother said, rushing to the field with Alaric in toe.
Whipping my head around to Josie I felt my fangs coming through where I shoved her onto the dirt field. “You son of a bitch. What the hell made you think that was okay!”
“Missy, I-“ She gets cut off when I attempt to vamp towards her while everyone is watching Ethan groaning on the field.
Alina grabs me by the back of my shirt managing to hold me back away from her. “Urgh let me go, Alina!”
“Stop it, Missy. Ethan will be okay. Go check on him.” She growled in my ear when I growled at my cousin knowing that I was right that something was going on with her today.
Shaking my head I ran over when it was becoming nightfall by the time the ambulance got there. Mom and dad come over to me where dad puts a hand on my shoulder telling me. “Go with them and compel them to forget that you give Ethan blood.” He whispered in my ear, squeezing my shoulder.
“Are we sure that’s a good idea. I mean giving him vampire blood without asking him. I mean what if something happens and he accidentally turns because of me.” I asked him searching for hesitation but he had none.
Mom came forward, taking my hands in hers. “Sweetheart it’s your choice to heal him or not. We will be here for you no matter what you choose to do.” She smiled and hugged me before I climbed in the back of the ambulance seeing that there were two medics and my boyfriend had his arm wrapped up in a black cast until we got to the hospital.
Waving my hand I quickly froze the medics leaving me alone to do whatever I chose. “Ethan, I am sorry about this. But you won’t feel anything after this…” Biting down into my wrist I drew some blood seeing him blinking his eyes.
“Missy…what are you doing?” He said in a raspy voice seeing that I was bleeding. “When did you get hurt?”
Sucking in a breath I felt the veins underneath my eyes trying to break through listening to his heart beating inside his chest. “It doesn’t matter now, E. I uh…I’m going to give you a choice. I can heal your arm or you can tell me no.”
“How can you heal me? Wait a second, do you have super powers or something?” He asked wincing when he slightly sat up on his none injured arm where I could see him smiling at me.
Lowering my bleeding arm I ran my fingers through my hair hearing the excitement in his voice rather than the terror I thought he would have if he ever found out. Leaning against the wall I gulped nervously. “Ethan, I…I told myself that I wouldn’t get you involved in all of this and then that new girl got Josie all riled up and she broke your arm.”
“Missy, woah I’m not going to freak out. So what type of superhero are you?” He asked, ignoring the fact that his arm had been broken for a few minutes.
Stepping up toward him I remembered when my father taught me another way around vampire compulsion. Where I didn’t have to make him forget everything. “Ethan, I’m going to give you some blood if you want me to heal your arm. But just so you know I am half witch and half vampire.”
“That’s cool as hell. How is that possible? Were you bitten by a radioactive bat or something else?” He began asking me with excitement until I saw the ambulance pulling up into the emergency parking lot.
Holding his shoulders I smiled making him look me in the eye panicking before I could give him any blood. “Ethan, I’m sorry but I have to go. I’ll explain everything to you at some point. Just listen to me very closely now….You won’t remember I am supernatural unless it’s just you and me alone. For your own good it has to be this way.”
“Missy, hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow.” He called my name when I jumped out of the back of the ambulance unfreezing the others with us.
Smiling at the human high school quarterback I vamped away when he was sent inside the hospital doors. “Don’t worry, E. You’ll be seeing me around.”
Raelyn’s pov
Alina, Henrik and Jackson were inside the hospital lobby waiting to hear what happened with Ethan. Klaus and I were standing outside the emergency room doors until I saw the girl with auburn hair from the game making me chase after her. “Hey, girl I need to talk to you.”
“Uh sure. I was just here to see how Ethan and Maya were doing after the game.” She responded by brushing hair from her face avoiding my gaze.
Crossing my arms over my chest I glared at the teenage girl. “I don’t normally judge someone before I know them but what exactly is Josie’s problem with you. Because she seems pretty angry when you and Landon we’re looking at each other.”
“All I can say is that he used to serve me milkshakes at the grill. I guess she’s just jealous for some reason. Hey um…I’m gonna go.” She slowly backed away from me without another word heading off into the dark parking lot.
Footsteps came up behind me. I didn't need to turn around knowing it was my husband. He stands beside me, hands in the pocket in his jacket. “Raelyn, why were you talking with that girl?”
“She’s the reason Josie broke Ethan’s arm. She’s also the girl from Henrik’s multiple drawings that he had given us. I just have an odd feeling about her.” Lifting my head up to him he tugs me into his side when I speak to him.
His eyes focused on mine before he kissed my head walking back into the hospital to look for Missy. “We’ll figure out who she is at some point, love. But we should check on the human boy. I can’t seem to find Missy in the room with him. So she must have gone back to school.”
“I’ll meet you there in a few seconds, Nik ... .who are you really Hope Parker?” Eyeing the direction she went I still felt off about the mystery girl so one way or another I would find out who she was and why I felt some odd connection towards her.
Comments really appreciated ❤️
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missamyrisa2 · 2 years ago
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Hello Miss Amy! I've been following your work on and off for a while! I was wondering what'd you'd deal with a shy nerdy college boy with ticklish sides, thighs, and feet?
Sooo~
Back in my RP'ing days, I did a session about a shy nerdy college boy all timid at his first day in a big lecture hall. Since that session is lost to time I don't mind recreating it here for you.
From the moment I enter the room you can feel the assessment from my eyes like a scanning beam percolating up your body from head to toe. I'm dressed rather casually for class in my blue jeans, purple tank top under a long black duster sweater, and chunky wedge shoes. My lips purse thoughtfully, I make like I'm trying to find my place but I've already decided ~ with a slinky stride I'm right next to you, flashing a little smirk as I greet with a "good morning. I'm Amy~" The metal bracelets on my wrist jingle softly as we shake hands, my other hand goes atop yours for a little clasp ~ granting me one extra moment to peer into your eyes with a calculating gaze.
Murmurs are heard about the professor. She's no where to be seen. Someone had heard she's quite eccentric. Others say she's the toughest class to pass. I glance around thoughtfully, and prod you for your take on the mystery teacher with a playful poke on the side. "Oooh, are you ticklish?" I snicker and flirt and goad you into overconfidence. My fingers idly trace and place with my flower-shaped belt buckle while I muse for you~ "This prof is such a flake. I bet you could teach this class ~ wouldn't that be hilarious? Like just tell her she's been replaced and then you can dismiss us all. You'd be like, so my hero~"
I hold back a smile when I see my plan taking hold. My cheeks blush gently for you when I see you stand up and summon the courage to speak to the class your plan. As you gain momentum and even support from your peers, I quietly pad my way down to the front of the hall. Slowly the cheers and chatter quiet down and one by one the class is looking forward. You realize all too late the deception, turning to face me with my hands on my hips in an authoritative pose, the display behind me showing my credentials as professor of this course in The Psychology of Reflexology.
"Well now. Class, it looks like we have our volunteer for our first lab. You'll learn I waste no time here, we are diving right in and I expect you all to keep up. Now, Mr. Charmer, if you'll just make your way to the front~" I turn and summon you with my wagging finger. When I see you stammer and blush and fiddle in your spot, my face flashes a knowing grin as nails drift to tap the petals of my belt. With the sound of mechanical squeaking, robotic hands emerge from my duster on long tentacle-like appendages. What appear to be copies of my fingers close on your wrists and snatch you up.
"There we are ~ now, we have quite a cutie on our hands here. We can see his tummy is already exhibiting a lot of twitching~" I have a mechanical hand lift your shirt to expose your belly, and I draw a nail up your sensitive skin. "There's concentrations of sensitivity here, and here ~ and riiiight along here in this circle. The giggles are a definite symptom of sensitivity and possibly ticklishness." I continue down and point a nail at your hip poking out the top of your bottoms. "We don't get into all of them today, but there are 'buttons' on the body which can trigger immediate responses. These hips, yes sometimes called hippies~" I poke and probe and prod at your waistline, making you buck for the amusement of the class. "Can trigger these bucking motions. Quite useful."
I have you lowered and attach a camera to my floral headband, putting your face on multiple displays throughout the lecture hall and into the stream for remote classmates. "MMhmm. And we see here, these cheeks." I grasp one of your cheeks lovingly with my fingers. "Quite pinkened. It's a blushing effect, very normal when stimulating a body's sensitive zones. With luck we'll see these blooms spreading downward. It can vary by subject, but I've seen almost entire bodies covered in this pink coloration. Quite cute, no?"
With that, I dial in a new sequence for my assistants and have you tossed onto a padded table rising from the floor. Hands flutter about and teasingly relieve you first of your shoes, then socks, and then free you of your shirt and pants ~ your clothing floats away on taunting fingers as I playfully nudge you back to lay flat and engage the padded shiny restraints across your wrists, ankles, and waist. From above I flash my smile and make sure I have a good angle on your blushing face.
"As we can see the anticipation has inspired more of that lovely color on his frame. This occurs before any actual stimulation of his reflexes. Quite fascinating." I lean in and broadcast your blushes and wiggles to everyone, and playfully blow a puff of air in your ear before addressing the class further. " Now, I've done a visual assessment of our subject today and observed that he is keen to cover certain areas of his body. My theory is that someone will do this even if they aren't fully aware of their ~ tickle spots~ and now, we will test that theory~"
I dial in commands through my buckle, giggling gently and blushing myself a bit at your predicament. When I see you struggling under the teasing wiggle of the tickly hands I grin wide. "Now, now. Don't fidget. Just let the machines do their work~" Robotic hands perfectly emulating my manicured purple nails land first on your sides, massaging up and down with ease. Another set snaps into action, working as a team with one grasping your big toe as the other begins gliding nailtips downward from under your toes and across the sole. The third set springs forth and begins lovingly rubbing at your thighs, alternating between circular thumb rubs and gentle caresses of the wiggly fingers.
"As we can see from these rather dramatic reactions, our subject is indeed ticklish on these primary zones. Just look at him go! What a ticklish boy, mmm?" I lean in for the last part, taunting in your ear as my minions work their fingers over your tickle zones. My hand drifts to playfully pinch and tweak one of your nipples as I observe the reaction in your undergarments.
"Further~ we see a stimulus rising in his, shall we say, royal package. This is expected as the tickle zones may also share erogenous neighbors. But, the machine is only able to summon these reflexes to a certain degree. For a full test we will require the human touch as well~"
I glance at my tablet over the student profiles and start calling names forth. A variety of peers appear around the table. You can't help but assess their hands ~ some have long nails, others short, some with jewelry and others without. Hand sizes vary, as do the apparent levels of evil in their smirks and grins and smiles. I tap my flower and retract the machine. "Go on now, pick a tickle spot ~ get a good one~!" I direct them, pacing around and ensuring my head camera captures your reactions.
A peppy girl with a french manicure dives in first. "Mah boyfriend gets me hereee aawwwl the tiime" She squeaks in her drawl, squeezing at your sides playfully. A dainty finger is quick to follow that lead, poking into your tummy from a rather gruff student who wouldn't be expected to tickle so easily. "Look at this bellybutton my god!" You catch eyes with stern hazel globes looking with a sense of contempt at your feet. The goth girl with long crimson claws is all too eager to practice her craft. She sneers and spreads her talons over your wiggling toes and helpless soles, skittering wildly in random directions. That leaves a fourth member, short haired and looking like a massage therapist on their day job ~ who happily hums and begins practicing techniques on your thigh muscles.
"I've selected our participants today based on a variety of style and sensation. We can see our subject is exhibiting in turn, a variety of reactions. But you'll need to observe closely. We can see he's bucking, likely from the tickles at his sides. Those cackles are a result of the long-nailed tickles simulating his soles and toes. The squeaks? Why, those are certainly care of this finger going in and out of the navel. And yes, the gigglemoans, quite exquisite and the product of his thighs being massaged - quite excellent work dear."
I move to your legs and giggle. The students gasp at the reaction showing on display in your underwear. "And there we have it, visible arousal on our subject. Quite amazing that tickles can elicit this reaction. I pegged our subject on the impression that this stimulus could be taken all the way to arousal without direct touch, and my theory is correct. Well done, if I do say so myself~"
"The unrefined among us might simply stimulate the royal area now. But I believe we will be able to coax out a climax. For this, we need a higher grade of stimulus." I tap a new sequence and my machine presents lip gloss applicators. "We need...smoochies~" I grin and let the machine apply a fresh glossy coat of purple. The other students line up and receive their stains, with pink, red, crimson, and a natural peach doled out.
"Now my dear friends, the kiss tickle requires finesse. You can just mmmmrhh, you know, maul or make out. What you want is the gentle brushing of your lips so that the gloss just ~ grazes their skin and raises the stimulation." I demonstrate, moving my lips to the side of your bellybutton. "Once the kindling is set, we mmmmuah ever so lightly to make good on that promise. Make sure your entire lip base is touching, and then retract annnnd, a perfect print right on the skin full of residual tingles." I pull back and tickle lightly around the imprint I've left on your skin as they observe and oooh and ahh.
Within moments, your body is being devoured by kissing lips. They excitedly brush and kiss and muah at your sides, up your ribs, over your belly, layering the different shades of gloss all around. Your thighs become a field of kiss marks. Your toes are individually kissed carefully, your soles lined with a pattern of muah. All the while I float around your face, occasionally giving you a peck on the cheek or directing you to the screen now showing a wide angle from above of all these kissy teasy ticklers over your body. The layers of kisses tingle endlessly even when they take a break to admire their work.
Once I have you nice and fuzzy and overloaded from their kisses, you turn and hear the tingling sound, seeing me tapping the flower buckle once more. "And now, the final test." The machine hands return, snapping to action and working around the students. Nails and lips work in tandem to overload your tickle spots, relentlessly following your struggles and laughs. With a smirk, I stand nearby, hand on my hip ~ documenting all while we bring you to a ticklegasm for the class to observe.
"We will most certainly be using this subject again for more studies, class~"
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cellarfulofnose · 1 year ago
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all things must pass
pre-Ringo ficlet inspired by the video below, which hasn't left my mind since i saw it over a year ago (and the comment that said someone once saw it imposed as punishment). in this story no one has the kink. or do they.
George rolls his eyes and scoffs, but he raises his chin in defiant surrender. He's not chicken. "How many minutes?"
"Fifty," says John straight away.
"Ten," Paul corrects, throwing John a look that doesn't pass for a glare.
John's not watching. He rummages through the many pockets and folds of his leather ensemble and comes out with two cigarettes. "I've only got two."
"We only need two," George insists, but John's got his shaking palms in Paul's face, croaking alms, alms like an ancient beggar. Paul's dry too, of course, or he'd share. Pete coughs up the one he keeps tucked behind his ear and another from his rolled-up shirtsleeve.
"Not four," George pleads, "just one each side," but they're already advancing.
"Two is for good little boys," John sneers. "One each side, that's a reward."
"Four, on the other hand." Paul looks frightfully clinical as he approaches, like Victor Frankenstein or some equally mad scientist, and George feels like the body on the slab. "Four's for little boys who get us kicked out of the pub for looking twelve..."
George furiously mumbles Nineteen and it sounds like six and a half.
"Tell that to your ears." John reaches out to tousle George's hair, but George twitches away. What they're about to dish out, he can take, but he spent twenty minutes this morning on his hair.
John, easily the vainest among them after him, doesn't chase him. He just barks, "Right!" and three sets of hands stuff four cigarettes up George's nostrils. Two each side. They don't hurt or anything. The smell's intimate, familiar but too close. Chemical. The hairs in his nose start to prick.
Is it cruel? Unusual? All those and more, but it's George's fairly decided fate. To be a human ashtray for ten lousy minutes--or until he hollers enough.
But he won't. George's neither a baby nor a poof. He'll last the ten.
Paul balances himself with an arm around John's shoulders, standing on one foot so John can strike the match on Paul's other shoe. "Any last requests?" John rumbles with a Spanish twang, one of Franco's generals leading George before the firing squad.
George watches the match-head flicker and thinks of stalling. "Cigar," he says, and feels a bit better when the others howl with laughter. But then flame meets paper, and he's drawing short, see-sawing breaths through his nose out of pure habit. He smells smoke. He doesn't think it's working.
"'S not lighting," says Paul.
Pete reaches out with two fingers. "Give 'em here, I'll light 'em the regular way and then..."
"I'm not putting nothing in my nose that's been in your mouth," George hisses. His voice has gone slightly nasal and dull, which for some reason isn't unpleasant. Sounds more grown-up, even. "Try again."
"...should be so lucky," John mutters, making leering faces at Pete while Paul lights a new match. This time it works.
"How's it--" someone starts to ask. George interrupts with...not a cough, per se, but a hard, lung-emptying shudder. He wants to cough, but the mechanism won't catch. The smoke's not down his throat but up it, too high up for him to swallow. It stings the back of his nose like he's had his head upside down in a swimming pool. It's not even reached his lungs. He inhales through his mouth, if only to move the smoke down his windpipe, and his nose burns. Hot, prickling tears wipe his vision.
"Look, it's comin' out his ears," John yaps.
George bites the line just long enough to give a worried sort of gasp and then, by hell, it catches. He coughs. It stings. Straight off, his cheeks are wet. He can't keep his eyes open, and he sort of can't stop choking. Every shallow cough scratches, drags, tickles. It's not right. George loves smoke, but there's just so much of it rising up his sinuses. And he can't get it out, not properly...
George's lip wobbles. He clenches his teeth and hides his mouth behind a fist before the spit that's pooling under his tongue can spill over. He almost burns his fingers.
"'At's a lad, easy does it." It's Paul talking now, George thinks.
"Time--" George bleats, utterly voiceless and inaudible the first few tries. He coughs and coughs and sputters. "Time?"
"Oh..."
"Er..."
"Fuck. Well..."
They've forgotten to keep track of the minutes. George tries to put his vocal cords together to tell them they're all berks, but all he can do is cough. It's not just smoke tickling his nose now; his whole head's draining into his throat. If he doesn't smother, he'll drown. Ten minutes be damned. He's not going to live that long.
"Don't cry, George," says John, whose eagle eyes seem to have just picked up on the fact that George's cheeks are flowing with tears. "We'll call that five." Not one of them is wearing a watch.
George takes a blind swing at John and feels quietly pleased when his fist connects with leather. But John's oof is soon drowned out. God, the smoke. George coughs and--there's a twinge behind his nose, a particularly biting cough. Might have been a sneeze. He can hardly tell. It's all so choked and itchy, who's to say where one ends and the other--
Oh, bloody hell, it tickles. He can't breathe--can't see. He's going to...
A frantic gasp tosses George's head backward. He hears the sudden inhale rattle through the phlegm in his throat. His lungs swell to an aching peak, and he folds in with a ghastly sneeze--yes, this time there's no mistaking it. It sounds just pneumonic. It clears out nothing.
John, Paul, and Pete rustle with a cry of surprise. "Thar she blows, boys," crows one. George has only one guess who. He wipes his mouth and shivers through another fitful spell of coughing. His nose hurts--God, not again...
He sneezes harder this time, and stays bent over, his stomach clenching too hard to straighten. "Blessya," Paul sighs, beatific, but he's laughing. George's chest flames with embarrassment. They're all laughing. He flashes his best scowl and curls away, tightens his throat. When the next volley of sneezy coughs comes, they come as little smoke-filled spasms, shielded from prying eyes by his hunched shoulders.
"Breathe, son," says John--no, Pete. Ah, fuck it. What does it matter to George? It's still a jeer, though maybe there was a note of worry as the heckler realized breathing might be easier said than done.
"Through your mouth," Paul appends.
As if George has any choice. His jaw aches with the need to gulp air into his lungs. His nose is on fire. His breath lurches and he locks up--he's not going to sneeze again, he's not--! He presses a hand over his mouth, as close as he can get without burning himself, forcing the next hiccuping gasp to shoot up his nose.
George shuts his throat, but he sneezes anyway, explosively, the terrible pressure backfiring through his sinuses. Smoke burns. His eyes stream. A coughing fit takes over, and he throws out a hand clumsily. Not expecting support, but wary that he might pitch over without an anchor.
All three of the others exclaim in surprise. If George had control over his breath he'd tell them to grow up. And they call him twelve years old. If anything keeps him from lashing out, it's the small measure of relief he feels. It cleared something out...
"How do you like that, eh?"
George opens his eyes and sees John bending over to pick something up off the ground. Two cigarettes, half burnt down. As soon as they touch John's hand, he flings them in disgust and spits, "Fucking hell." George's hand flies to his left nostril on a hunch. Cigarette-free. He snickers. It turns into a cough.
"Aw, come 'ere, you poor devil." Paul's strong arm appears under George's, offering support. He plucks the other cigs from George's right nostril ("They'd gone out, anyway") and tosses them. "Here, go on." In his palm, he cups a square of cotton to George's face.
George ought to think twice, but he buries his nose in the cloth without hesitation, adding his hand over Paul's as he blows his nose. He imagines it's gone a grisly jet-black. He mops at his face and doesn't look.
"Those were my last two, you know." Pete is leaning against the brick wall of the alley with his hands in his pockets.
John rasps the beginning of a loud Ah shurrup, but Paul cuts in. "Hey, let's--why don't you two go back in, you look old enough. Get us four? No, I'll stay out here. In bottles, thanks."
"You must be joking."
Paul forks over a few notes from his sock and John darts inside with glee, trailing Pete behind him. It's quiet again.
Then, "Sorry about that."
George looks over at Paul. He's stuffed his hands in his pockets now too, only instead of sullen he looks elfin, a small coy smile lifting his soft cheeks. His disarming face. He wants George to forgive and forget. "You know how he is."
Oh, George knows. He looks down and wipes his nose once more.
Paul sighs, as if he's bored. "Dying for a ciggy."
George holds in his laughter. It makes him sniffle. "Well, you should have thought of that."
Paul has the audacity to look shocked. "Trying to pin this on me?"
"It's not my fucking fault."
Paul shrugs and sighs dramatically. "Wonder how we'll get our hands on more, 'sall."
It's just misdirection. George hates that it's working. He's not blushing anymore. "Turn tricks," he mutters.
"What?"
"Hustle your arse." George grabs a tight handful of Paul's bottom, making him jump and shout.
"Fucker." Paul lunges like he'll strike. When George doesn't flinch, Paul swipes at the air like a boxer, a few empty punches in front of George's face. All in fun. When he's got his burst of energy out, he settles.
"Oi."
George glances over, though he's past ready for the talking to stop. Paul looks frighteningly sincere. "You know we love you, mate," he says.
George grabs Paul's ass.
They chase each other for a while, fleet as a couple of long-legged foals. When Pete and John return, they come bearing a cold bottle for each of them. It's a lovely tight system, but George's got to be self-sufficient sometime. He resolves to grow a moustache. No self-respecting barkeep will be able to turn him away.
And if anyone forces him to smoke through his nose again, it'll light his whole face on fire.
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lpfreakification · 8 months ago
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My age has caught up
Im 30.
I've turned 30 last month but was super busy with school that I didn't have the time to process it.
Having this free time this week b4 I plan out what I wanna do in July, I think im overwhelmed with options.
Reading this BL in the past hour doesn't help with my emotions. They make them go haywire. God, boys are cute 😭
My timing is terrible when it comes to dating. I think it was 2 or 3 years ago now that I read a BL manga called Love Doctor that got me into a spiral of emotions + an overwhelming longing for a boyfriend. I did try. He was alright. I could do better. Then school started.
This feels selfish of me wanting a boyfriend just to recreate fluffy yaoi moments. That's a delusional way of thinking, Perla! *whines*
From experience, I do have ideas:
Step 1: Go to a place of frequent visits (such as internet, Tumblr, school, computer lab, library, lobby, coffee place, restaurant, workplace???)
Step 2: Do my doodle thing until someone walks up to you + compliments them
Step 3: intros
Step 4: talk about work/hobbies
Step 5: Repeat steps 1 - 4
Step 6: Exchange contact info once u get comfortable/confident, when your face lights up when the other person arrives, or can't stop thinking about them.
... + idk. I never gotten as far as that 😅 I remember one piece of advice I was told that I struggle with, + suck at: follow-up/following up. Why does it have to take so much energy 😫
I feel troubled. I know that I don't really like to give, just take. Eventually, I will have to learn to give more often. I constantly think to myself that I'm gonna give them something in return for what they've given me. In the end, I can never physically execute those thoughts, and I end up wallowing in bed in guilt.
Either:
- depending on future boyfriend, I'd do anything
- stay the same
- feels the same way + we can both agree not to spend on each other but for ourselves.
...
Man, what am I doing with my life this week, wasting away in bed? I guess I'm just being lonely as hell since the wedding two weeks ago. Dammit, the cute aggression is stirring up.
Also, aren't I supposed to be taking a break after two months of animation grinding, too?
I... don't have a good work-life balance. I've explained this so many times, so I'll skip it. Hmmm, little bit of things here, little bit of things there, + a few days off for myself to do absolutely, positively nothing.
I do have an ideal routine that worked out so perfectly when I had an internship in 2020:
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I did get the right idea of starting animation work at 8 am. After my sister's wedding, I started taking my meds earlier at 5:20 in the morning. Huh, the 9pm hour is still an accurate time for chilling. I have been falling asleep earlier than usual nowadays, b4 11pm.
...
Since I'm here, let's organize my ideas.
- KH:DDD
- Kickboxing
- School stuff
- Improving on some animations, need a specific list for that
- Haircut
Those are my main points. There's bound to be more little things in between that may come along the way. Like, my psychiatrist appointment tomorrow morning, the local annual 4th of July Parade, + Traverse City, Michigan in August (more details when the date draws near).
...
I'm feeling a bit better now that I got these thoughts out of my system :)
Imma go grab a cheesecake from the kitchen X)
Yep!
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brighteststar707 · 1 year ago
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Ahhh, Faye, how have you been? I was going through the "For You" thingy on Tumblr and came across your post.
My January has been alright, actually! Some meh stuff here and there. I'm currently sick but I'm getting better, thankfully.
School has been quite rough, I can't focus on studies at all but I'm trying my best to do at least SOMETHING 😭✋✋ I honestly can't wait to finish and do some things I planned!
I think I should be able to pass the exams, at least enough. In my art school, they even reward you with an okay grade if you are QUIET because boys there are so loud and ruin the class for everyone SMSMSK so that gives me an advantage, I get to draw and be quiet during class and I will probably get an okay grade. I'm getting them officially the next month and then some more months until final exams msms
My plans for the future are probably: me getting a blood test to check if I have anything.
Me doing an English test to see where my English level is. If I'm very good at English, they'd be willing to hire me since in my country, it is REQUIRED to have it learned since we have so many people from other countries visiting or even living here! I believe I'm very good at it and I'm hoping to get the highest rank or at least something like that! I'm still not sure how it works here yet but I know you're supposed to give a test and see where you are.
I'm actually planning on becoming a barista as well, I love making coffee for my mom and some drinks for my family or even for myself (chocolate milk) and it low-key calms me down soo!! I'm going to aim to start drinking coffee as well (God knows I'll need it in the future probably) and my best friend told me I should try it with coffee and as time goes on, I should lower it, when I get materials or be able to go out on my own officially, I can't wait! I also heard you need to take lessons but I'm willing to learn!!! I found out it's one of the jobs that makes me feel actually excited for.
The fact it's also a job that is in the morning hours (at least from what I've read) i think it's awesome! I think I'm a morning person and I think I'd just be too afraid when it starts to get dark.
I have some more plans but they will need time before I actually go through with them! Like getting a house and having a good income as well. So I'm planning on also buying a digital drawing tablet to start practicing more my art, which has improved a little bit I think!
I also got some emulators and I've been playing Pokemon a lot, I'm able to pet a Charizard now!! No, I'm totally not obsessed what are you talking about-
I wanna get back to writing but I'm not sure yet T_T
But man, it's been a rollercoaster, I've been years on this app and I'm becoming 18 soon AHAHAHAH-
Have a nice day, Faye! Happy hearing from you again!!^^
Hey! It's so nice to hear from you again ☺ this month has started off feeling like a rollercoaster but my god am I hanging in there.
I feel the same way about writing at the moment! Trying to find something that really captures my attention but is small enough for me to ease back into writing with. Though, this break I've (accidentally) taken has been really nice.
I'm sorry to hear that school is hard to focus on at the moment but it's very exciting that you don't have little of it left! That behavioural grade sounds nice too - I used to love getting rewarded just for being quiet (read: shy) in class. Also, judging by your fics and messages, I have full faith that you'll ace the English exam! I'm rooting for you 💕
I'm so happy you've found a job that excites you! Being a barista sounds like it could be so rewarding, especially if it's something you've been interested in for a while. And it's even better that the hours line up with what works for you.
I'm currently in the process of applying for a teaching license. It has taken me a course and two exams to get here and I'm relieved to be through it. Now I have a feeling all that waits for me is annoying paperwork.
Despite the chaos of these first few days of February, I'm so grateful for the people around me who make me feel cared for and supported even when I'm struggling.
I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day /week/month! It was so nice to hear from you again! 💕
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casspurrjoybell-28 · 1 year ago
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Alpha's Temptation - Chapter 5
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*Warning: Adult Content*  
- Ash -
Lucien makes good on his promise to put me in school. I'm actually really excited about it because Alpha Ferix stopped me from going to school two years ago.
He'd say there was no use trying to get smarter, it would never happen for me. This makes me worried that Lucien will be disappointed if the school rejects me for not knowing enough so I voice it.
"Ash, you go to school to learn in the first place," Lucien reassures me.
I'm feeling uneasy but I let Lucien take me to the main office of the local high school, Shadow Creek High, to enroll. It's all new to me, picking out an elective... I choose art because I love drawing... and getting a schedule.
No one is there, to my relief, as it's still the weekend. I only see a couple of guys out on the field for football practice.
"I want you to know that you deserve an education, Ash. Every kid does," Lucien tells me as we get in the car to go back to the house. I feel myself getting emotional all of the sudden becoming choked up.
It's no surprise because I've always been a sensitive little baby. No one's treated me with such kindness in years.
"Thank you, Alpha Lucien," I sniffle, wiping my eyes.
Lucien's eyes soften.
"Don't thank me, boy. I'm just doing what I should be. And just call me Lucien. None of that Alpha crap,"
I nod, wiping my tears with a tissue Lucien hands to me. Despite Lucien's reassurance, I'm already worried that I'm becoming a burden to him.
I know that love is conditional and will eventually run out one day. How long before Lucien gets tired of me like Alpha Ferix has?
Before bed that night, Lucien comes to my room and I ask the question that's been lingering on my tongue since I first arrived.
"Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you don't even know me."
Lucien is silent for a moment, a swirling of conflicted emotions in his eyes.
"I'm going to tell you everything soon, Ash. All in good time," he says as he walks to the door. "All in good time."
The answer leaves me more confused than before I'd asked. What does Lucien know that he's not telling me?
On Monday morning I wake up early and get ready for school. I can barely get down breakfast.
I'm so nervous, my hands trembling and rattling the cutlery. I go get my bag from upstairs, rushing back to the stairwell only to stop when I see who stands at the bottom of it.
Daemon. Leaning against the wall in all his 6'7" glory.
He looks up when he hears me approach and we lock eyes as I descend down the stairs. I don't mean to hold his stare but it feels almost impossible to look away, like I'm hypnotized.
It might have kept on going if I didn't trip on the last step, sending myself stumbling forward and into Daemon's firm chest. With lightning quick reflex, the Alpha catches me, large hands grabbing my thin shoulders to set me right again.
"Careful, Omega," he says, quick and stern, as he lets me go.
I feel almost disappointed when the contact ends.
"S-sorry," I mumble, awkwardly looking at my shoes.
Daemon doesn't reply.
"Ah, Daemon. Glad you're here. You'll be taking him to school from now on," Lucien bursts in the room, chipper and ready for the day.
I feel my heart drop to my feet as the mood of the room quickly sours.
"You called me here for that?" Daemon asks the question with such contempt that makes me want to call off the whole thing.
I hate being the cause of confrontation and will do anything to avoid it.
"He needs a ride and you know I have my duties with the pack council. We'll be in correspondence with the Silver Lake Pack the next few weeks."
"He can't drive himself? Why the hell do I have to look after some Dark Moon Omega?"
I wince at the way Daemon says my pack name like an insult, a reminder of who I am. An outsider, an enemy, even, here in the Shadow Pack.
"Daemon," Lucien gives him a stern glare. "You will drive him, end of discussion."
Daemon huffs out a sigh, seemingly giving in to Lucien's demand. He doesn't wait for Ash as he walks out to the car.
Lucien turns to me, ruffling my hair in encouragement.
"Have a good day at school, bud. Don't let Daemon spoil your mood."
"I won't," I attempt a meager smile back before heading out the door.
I'm actually dreading the car ride but I have no choice. I go to the passengers side of the sleek black car and pull it open, piling in with my school bag and books.
The first part of the car ride is silent. My leg is bouncing nervously and I fiddle absentmindedly as I can practically feel the waves of irritation radiating off Daemon.
"I can..." I start, gulping nervously when the alpha looks to me expectantly. "I can walk, if you want."
"You'll be late, then..." Daemon replies to dismiss him.
"I just don't want to trouble you-"
"You know what?" Daemon cuts me off abruptly. "You can quit it with the nice, naive act, omega. Why the hell did Dark Moon send you, huh? Did you put my dad under some spell so he'll let Dark Moon take over?"
My face flushes at the accusation, overwhelmed by the weight of it.
"What? No.. I would never do anything like that."
"Then why am I the only person who sees something wrong with this? You need to go back to your pack.."
I feel my throat tighten, willing myself not to cry and to instead face Daemon's words head on.
"You have no idea what I came from. I will never go back there," I cross my arms to add finality to my statement.
"So you're going to be stubborn with me? Face it. You don't belong here and you never will."
I don't know what emboldens me to fight back but my blood is boiling. My rational mind goes out the window, like it usually does when I let my emotions take over.
"Why... Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you? Sure, my pack is your enemy but I've never done anything that warrants you being so... so mean."
Daemon looks taken aback but then he scoffs, jaw ticking.
"You really don't understand the severity of the situation, do you? If the council or other Alphas find out my father has been harboring a traitor they won't hesitate to banish him from the pack or even execute him."
That effectively silences me, my eyes widening in horror.
"See? If you're not a spy and really just a dumb kid, then you'd better be careful. Keep your mouth shut today at school. Because Lucien's risking his neck for you, though I have no idea why."
I nod fearfully, clutching my bag as my hands tremble. I... could bring harm to Lucien?
After everything he's done for me? No, I can't.
I won't be able to live with myself if that happens. I have to do whatever it takes to conceal my true identity.
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cagenewman · 2 months ago
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There was an edge to Cage's voice when he spoke, a bitterness that he couldn't help as it slipped into his tone, making the words clipped and short, an anger that he hadn't expecting to be harboring in his gut when he opened his mouth. "I've had enough grief for a fucking lifetime." His mother, his childhood without her, being a single parent to a boy who deserved better, losing his father; maybe a teeny, tiny part of him was angry at Travis and Maddie, mad at them for leaving this world, for leaving their friends, their kids -- and he hated himself for that. It wasn't their fault, what happened was horrible, and it wasn't their fault, but God, he meant it with his entire soul -- he had dealt with enough grief to stoke a fire, to burn for centuries, and he didn't want anymore, he didn't want to let himself grieve, even if he knew that he needed to. "Sorry," he murmured after a moment, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes and then pushing fingers back through his hair, letting out a breath. "I'm sorry, I know, I just -- when my dad died, I didn't… handle it well. Handle myself well, and I can't afford to do that right now," he couldn't spend every night in a bar, chalking it up to 'reminiscing on old times' with friends when in reality, he was drinking his feelings and trying to cope. He took in another breath, deeper this time, steadier, sitting up a little more and nodding his head; she was right, they were in this together. "We're going to want something small. Travis and Maddie didn't have a lot of family, it's not like dad, we had a line up and down the sidewalk to get into the church, I never shook so many hands in my life," he had been the second oldest son, the one that had been home the most with their father, he had stepped up to do as much as he could until Kellan could take over as 'patriarch,' be the person squeezing shoulders and trying to keep a dry eye. But he remembered the pressure, the stress, the overwhelming sadness, and he didn't want that for Shawn, shook his head. "The kids can't handle something big... a small service, something private, maybe a dinner afterwards?"
Glancing up the stairs behind him, as though he could get some sort of intel as to how the kids' aunt was doing, Cage nodded his head, knowing that it couldn't have been easy for her. Moving away from home, convincing your brother to move soon after, losing him and his wife the way that she had. "If not a doctor, at least a day out, maybe, when she feels up to it. Spa, shopping, nice restaurant, something she wants to do, no kids, just to two of you?" he suggested, looking back down at his wife, and watching as she asked about Shawn, nodding his head, shifting his weight on the stairs to pull out his phone, unlocking it and opening the documents that Rafael had sent over earlier in the day, turning to show Cordelia the signed paperwork they had completed at the end of the summer. "I called Raf. Since he drew up the original guardianship deal for Shawn, I wanted to make sure that we knew where we stood; we have full rights for Shawn until June, which means unless he tells us otherwise, he's staying here with us," if nothing else, he hoped that could provide his wife some relief, flicking through the documents, "he's drawing up a copy of Trav and Maddie's will first thing Monday morning. That should give us more intel on exactly who the kids' legal guardians are, what our next steps should be, but I agree with you. About Cienna. I can't imagine separating them right now, I can't imagine surviving losing my mom without Kellan, without having Lou to take care of and I can't do that to them," he shook his head, setting his phone aside. They could talk to the kids' aunt, explain how they were feeling, work up some sort of temporary custody agreement, at least through the holidays, make sure that the kids were together for that, tackle all of it in the new year when things didn't feel quite so… raw. When everything didn't still sting the way that it did now. They would figure something out, they always did. They were Newmans. Watching as she leaned forward, he lifted a hand, rubbing it gently along her spine, watching his wife closely. While she mourned for Travis and Maddie, for Shawn and Cienna, for him, he mourned for her, too. Cordelia had never been through something like this, he knew that his wife had looked forward to the holidays, her first as an official Newman after so many years of wishing and dreaming, and although he knew that family would always be a sore spot for her, he also knew how important it was. He kept his voice quiet and between them, not just asking about right then and there, but… every moment, every day with this. "Are you okay, baby?"
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This was the kind of pain that Cordelia would wish upon no one, no matter what happened in someone's life. Hell, she wouldn't even wish this on her own parents, and that was a pretty tortured experience right there. To have that thrust upon two young children was the kind of heartbreak that she couldn't begin to understand, not in that way. Loss was different in her world, but she could still understand the basic feelings. Not to mention she had loved these friends as family, that had been Cordelia's chosen family. Her friends that stood by her side in good times and in bad, when she had rekindled her relationship with Cage had been the utmost supportive. Now she was supposed to live without them in her life, their kids had to face every day forward without their parents for the most important days of their lives. Part of her hoped to just wake up screaming, covered in sweat, from the worst nightmare where Cage would comfort her and say this would never happen in their world. She was an adult and didn't know how she could feel so much pain, but anger too building in her slim frame. "Crying isn't a bad thing, it's human, it's grief." Cordelia had no doubt that this brought up some very raw points for Cage no matter how much time passed. Somethings he never expected him to ever get over, loss. "But we have to help Shawn learn to grieve something... this big. Even if it means we show him our emotions too." Her voice soft, she knew there was so much stigma around men showing their emotions. Something she didn't want Shawn to feel he had to hide, that he had to be the 'tough' one because of his little sister. Taking a breath, "Then let me be there to help you too." She knew they were both grieving for their friends, for the kids in their home to keep them safe, for the fact that Colton now would fully understand what it meant that life was precious and not guaranteed. Something she didn't want him to learn, not this way, not fear anytime his father left the house. "We need to help Shawn plan a service, we are in this together." It wasn't about making this about them, it was being a united front to be able to handle the fear that their children would experience, soothing the pain as much as they humanly could even if they couldn't fix it.
"We have to check in on Shawn's aunt too, make sure she's okay before anything more happens." she let out a breath, "She looked exhausted earlier, wonder if I should take her to the doctor just the stress itself." she murmured. "I just... I hate not being able to fix things." she shifted and leaned more into the stairs railing. "Do you think... what if we -- you know? Do you think Shawn would want to stay with us?" she asked, "We can protect him, we love him, I just... don't know how else to keep him safe other than wanting him to stay with us. Which means Cienna too, because how can you look at her and separate them, is that crazy? I just want to put them in a bubble and keep them from the world and anything else that could ever hurt them." she knew this would mean so much if they went down this path, lawyers, therapy for Shawn, Cienna, and in her own mind for Colton wouldn't be a bad idea either. Leaning forward she held her head, "I feel sick."
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inertflouride · 3 years ago
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Cz your Jake is a badass boy , I was wondering how your gentle Jake would be?🤭 Of ya got time of course . I hope a one shot won't be too bothersome 😌❤️
Also, congratulations(?) for hanging there till the end of your exams 🤭🤣
Thanks a lot Oshi😭❤️ (though I didn't do so well)
Anyways, back to work:
I never imagined Jake as sensitive person. Sure he can be senstive but ugh, you get it right? So this was kinda challenging for me... but here's my attempt, hope you enjoy! <3
Glimpse of Us
WARNING: Heavy fluff, vomiting daisies and lillies and whatever flower you like.
"It's beautiful Jake", I tell the blue eyed hacker who stands behind me, hugging my stomach, with his head leaning on my shoulder.
"It is. Indeed", he softly speaks and teases my neck with his nose. "Come on now, love", he motions at the picnic cloth spread on the hilltop with a basket on one side. The fresh breeze of sandalwood trees soothes my mind and makes me feel at peace.
Jake has been nose deep in his new job. Life after being a free man, you know. So, he felt he was, sort of, neglecting me (his words, not mine) because, like, he would be gone early in the morning and wouldn't be back before it was late. Then one thing led to another and here we are, on this breathtaking spectacle.
I take a seat on the cloth and straighten myself up, taking this opportunity to completely relax and destress myself. Working in Corporate is no joke, trust me.
"So, what would you like to have?", Jake asks me as he seats himself beside me, intertwining our pinkies. "Oh no, don't answer. I know just what you'd like."
Seeing him gush over me certainly helps a huge smile from the warmth this person radiates within me ever since I met him. Honestly, I was surprised beyond words when we reached here, making me so at awe to the beautiful view before me. I have always been a hillside lover, so this was nothing but absolute heaven to me.
To my dismay, I hear some clouds rumbling over our heads, although not excessively concerning us for we aren't here for long. Jake hands me, yes he guessed it correctly, a can of lemon soda and gets cold coffee for himself. I lean my head against his shoulder, sipping on my drink. I flinch again when the clouds rumble, worry painting my face now, when Jake takes the soda from my hand and moves my body so that I'm leaning my head on his lap. His hands move stray in my hair, gently massaging them.
"You know, I've dreamt about this a lot", he starts, drawing small circles in my scalp, "of you and me, us, together, spending time like this. It's what gave me strength to keep going until I made my life bearable for you to be in it."
I pause a bit before I sit back up, my hand cupping his left cheek. "Jake. It doesn't matter to me whatever you do. I love you and I'll follow you even in the deepest waters of hell if it means being with you. So, you don't have to pressurise yourself towards anything, especially this job. If you feel it's calling to you, that you're passionate about it, I'll be more than happy to see you being engrossed in it, but if it doesn't, you're smart enough to know what to do."
He quietens for a bit, humming in reply. "My little, little detective", he pinches the tip of my nose and presses a kiss on my forehead. I look up at his face when a raindrop pats down on the bridge of my nose. "Uh shoot, come on, let's go", he offers me his hand to pick me up and we move to gather our stuff, making a rush towards the bus stop shed which isn't too far from where we are.
Jake takes my hand in his as we take a leap towards our destination, our clothes already half wet from the annihilating rain which is in full swing by now. Thankfully, we reach the bus stop and huff down from the briskness, catching our breaths. "That was quite... fun", I mew to Jake and we break into a laugh together. "How long for the next bus?"
"Hmm, lemme check", Jake says as he glances in his phone and starts tapping a few buttons. As he gets busy with this, I try to wipe my arms with the picnic cloth which got saved from the heavy downpour. "Crap", he mutters, making me look at him in worry, "I forgot that the bus workers are on a strike today", he facepalms himself and amusedly looks at me.
"What was that look for?", I furrow my brows at his, returning an amused look on my own face. Jake gets closer to me and takes my hand, motioning his head towards the rain. "Oh my god-", I shriek as he pulls us out in the rain, completely drenching us in a few minutes.
"Oh, come on now", he playfully states and bows in front of me, his hand sticking out as if asking me for a dance. I facepalm myself and then nod, giving my hand in his. He straightens up and puts my hand on his shoulder, one of his arms going around my waist while both of our free hands melt in each other, resembling a waltz. I can't help but giggle at the silliness of all this, of us, in rain, doing a little waltz. "What are we, Jake? Five year olds?"
"Yes, we are. Now, hush", he quietens me by putting his finger on my lips and smiles. We move around in each other's embrace, our feet moving on their own, while he exchanges little pecks on my cheeks.
Suddenly, he pulls me towards him, both of his arms around my waist and my hands gripping his shoulders. He looks at me dreamily and sighs, deeply. "I must have done some very good deeds that I managed to find someone so smart, funny, beautiful, caring and loving like you. Each day, I thank whatever gods that exist in this mortality for intertwining our destinies together, sealing our together in this fateful connection. Thank you MC, for loving me, for being there for me, for everything good that's now happening in my life", he declares his love for me and gently kisses my lips. "Though you are a handful at times, I'm more than happy to carry your little load."
I let out a laugh and press our foreheads together, tears from my eyes mixing with the water raining down on me, though this man still notices them and cups my face, tilting his head slightly and looking at me. I flush from the way he looks at me and hide my face in his chest. "Come on now, do you want to catch a cold or something?"
"Oh baby, we're definitely going to catch a cold. It's pneumonia that we can save ourselves from", he laughs and goes to get the picnic basket from the seat before he takes my hand and we briskly walk our way to home.
PS: I was listening to Love Story by Indila while writing the rain dance scene (I'll link it below)
Man, I haven't ever written a fluff, I'm so dying, sksksksksks
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ratherbefangirling · 3 years ago
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🎭 the truth untold🎭
Pairing : Namjoon x Reader
Genre : Mafia AU, Spy AU, Soft Yandere, Angst, Drama, Romance
Synopsis : You discover your old best friend is now the head of the most dangerous mafia in the country. You go in to avenge your brother's death but things are more complicated than they seem.
Part 5
Masterlist
Previous | Next
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You completed your drawing of Namjoon.
You put it under your pillow.
Jin came to check up on you.
"Good morning y/n. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm good doctor... umm..."
"Is something bothering you." He asks.
"Yesterday.. Namjoon, did he come? " You question.
Jin nods carefully.
"I... Will he come again?"
"He would like to." Jin replies.
"Will you tell him to meet me then?" You ask softly.
"I will let him know." Jin tells you.
Two days later Namjoon is at your door. He's made an effort to wear more lively clothes which also look comfortable. Maybe seeing him in a familiar style will help.
He enters the room. Jin is standing there. It irks Namjoon that he has to rely on someone else to see you. That you are more comfortable with a stranger than him. Maybe it's his way of paying back the hurt he's caused you.
"Hi." You say softly.
His heart beats like a school boy.
"Hey." He answers carefully.
You take your time observing him.
There are so many thoughts in your head. You want to tell him you hate him for abandoning you. That he's an idiot you don't want to ever see again. You want to ask why he's here.
"You left." You say.
"I'm sorry baby. I had to go." He explains.
"You could have said something." The hurt in your eyes pierces him.
"I'm so sorry baby I wanted to... believe me, you don't know how much I've suffered."
"You suffered." You scoff. "Why should you not suffer I want to tell you that I hope you suffer for eternity but I'm but a fool that missed you. I would have begged to make you stay... but you even denied me that." You're sobbing by now.
He comes close and cups your hands in his.
"Hit me. Hurt me. Please just don't hate me baby."
"Stop it Namjoon. I'm not your baby."
"Please y/n. I'm your joon. You said you'd always forgive me. Please." He puts his face on your palms.
Both of your eyes are leaking.
Jin almost leaves he feels as if he's witnessing something intimate. Something he shouldn't be intruding upon.
For the first time he realises the amount of power you hold over Namjoon.
You've both calmed down after a while. You try to take your hand from his grasp to hide your runny nose.
But he's reluctant to let go.
"Joon I need to blow my nose." You whine.
He finally let's go.
"Oh yes.. sure .. let me..." he passes you the tissues managing to knock down the colors you'd kept.
He looks flustered and guilty.
You let out a giggle.
This was your Joonie.
He looks at you wide eyed.
"Umm.. would you like to go have dinner with me."
You look at Jin.
While he is unsure if its a good idea he doesn't want to face RM's wrath later so he nods his head in agreement.
Jealousy rises in Namjoon's chest.
"Ok. What are we eating?" You ask.
"What does my baby want." He asks softly.
"Umm. Pizza." You suggest.
"Pizza it is then." He says.
He walks you to the dining room. This one is built for private gatherings for upto 8 people.
Walking into the room you spot your reflection. You are in a pretty bad shape.. just like someone who was in the hospital is supposed to be. You can't believe it's you in the mirror.
Namjoon notes your sudden stop in step.
At first he thinks he hurt you but then notes how you frown looking at your appearance.
"Do you want to bath first." He asks.
"I dont have clothes." You reply your frown deepening.
He knows it's too early to inform you of the walk in closet he's especially made for you.
"You can wear some of mine."
You pout. You're not pleased but it's better than this.
You want to take your time to soak in the luxurious tub but the memory of that shower still haunts you. It's been a while since you get to enjoy scented bathroom supplies.
You take your time to style your hair a bit. After too many days your head feels clearer. There's so much you want to ask Joon. You also need to let your team know you're alive. They probably do putting a chip inside you ensured that.
You need to play your cards right. He was practically a stranger to you.
You wanted to believe he was your joon. You really did. But you knew better it could be a trap. And it was just not in the way you thought.
You wear his clothes. For some reason they feel more comfortable and its not because of the expensive fabric they were made of or maybe it was.
You come out to find a spread. There's more pizza than you can eat with various toppings. There's also a choice of drinks from soft drinks to milkshake.
There's garlic bread and multitude of dips.
And it smells heavenly.
"Is this just for the two of us?"
You ask.
He nods and you note how it's catered to your diet preferences.
You feel pleased.
You nibble your way through the food. Slowly but steadily eating. It's quiet mostly but it's nice.
And in no time it's time for you to sleep.
Namjoon comes to drop you at the door of your 'room'.
"I... I had a nice time. Thank you for eating with me."
"While it was nice eating with you I hope you know we can't be like before Namjoon... I couldn't trust you and they way we've met I have more questions than answers... I just... thank you for staying alive but until you do the explaining I don't think we can move forward."
Namjoon understands where you're coming from but still his heart aches and he puts his head down like a kicked puppy.
"Don't try guilting me Namjoon.. you need to get that I've found you in a mafia den. People here are sick in the head and I can't join the joon I knew to this... to you.. because you're a stranger to me. Do you even know how many freaking times I thought I shouldn't have helped you bandage your wounds and made you go to the hospital so that whoever was hurting you stopped.. but somehow you're..." You dont know what to say.
"I'm sorry y/n." He says.
"I dont want apologies I just.. explain this to me."
His phone rings. He looks torn but picks it up.
You go to bed before he can say anything.
Namjoon watches you leave. Till the person on the phone pleads his attention and he is back to being the RM.
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It's been a few days since Namjoon and you met.
You've drawn a couple of his portraits.
His eyes so addictive stare at you from the paper.
You watch as Jin enters the room.
"How are you feeling today y/n?"
"'I'm good. What about you?"
"I am fine. Now, I read your latest reports and its all clear. I am sure you have a lot of questions which Namjoon himself will answer. He will meet you tomorrow for brunch. Today you will be taken to your own unit. Men and women live in different unit buildings so you don't have to worry. All your belongings will be in the room. Do you have anymore questions?"
"Are the six already selected?"
"Yes."
"I-is he among them?"
Jin nods.
You clench your fist. Anger rising for Namjoon. He said he was your Joon. Your Joon was rarely violent but he had bet up a guy who'd whistled and catcalled you. Your Joon would never. It's better this way, you think. His actions only steel your resolve.
"Don't worry like I said. You won't have to meet him. If anyone asks you are for covert mission 130613. Proceeding 7. Repeat for me."
"130613. Proceeding 7. " You repeat.
"Good. J-hope will be here to escort you."
You gasp at the familiar name.
Jin doesn't notice busy checking your file.
J-hope enters in a while. He wasn't pleased to be your escort but he had been treading on RM's patience lately and had no wish to end up in a ditch. So he put himself up to it. He was also curious about Namjoon's girl. You had been such a careful secret that he had only recently come to know of your existence and he was RM's trusted right hand. It did nothing more than reawaken the fear of RM.
Despite everything J-hope understood RM's protectiveness, you were the clink in the armour of Bangtan Corp.
Jhope enters the inner circles treatment area.
He goes to your cell. You look up at him.
"Hello I'm here to take your hope and the angel of death. J-hope. Also RM's right hand in Bangtan." You try to contain your reaction. This was the man that brought you here in a way.
You are impressed despite the circumstances. Wondering if anyone else had an introductory jingle.
"I am y/f/n. ... part of covert mission 130613. Proceeding 7."
"Perfect. I'm here to take you to your unit. Bye Jin hyung. Its my turn to babysit." He says.
You want to roll your eyes but you resist.
"Stay behind me." He says strictly.
You nod but he doesn't see. You wave Jin goodbye and hurry behind Hoseok.
The complex is large and confusing. You try to remember any landmarks but Hope's pace leaves much to be desired.
Soon you come across a building. You enter and it looks like the dormitory. There are girls studying and exercising and some simply talking.
They all stop when they see Hope and lower their heads. Hope doesn't seem to acknowledge any of them.
He stops suddenly and you almost crash into him. Luckily you stop yourself in time.
He takes out a badge and hands it to you.
"Use this. This allows entry and exit to all the places that you earn the privilege to use. RM will brief you tomorrow. I hope I don't have to see you for a long time." He says and leaves.
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You explore your living area. It has a bed, side tables, a mini fridge, sofa, cupboard. It also leads to a bathroom.
It's decent you suppose. You open the cupboard to find a safe.
There's a note
Hey baby,
The password is your birthday
Love Joon
You enter your birthdate. It opens to reveal your purse with your phone.
Your phone was switched off. You on it to find 49% charge. But you'd have to use a charger for it.
There's a knock on your door. You close your cupboard hastily. Open the door to reveal a gorgeous women.
"Um.. who are you?"
"I'm Jiwoo. The overseer of the unit. You're our new recruit. I'm here to show you around. Also it's time for lunch."
"I'm 130613." You say somehow unsure if you're supposed to reveal your identity.
"You're smart. First lesson no one should know your birth name or date. " she comments with a disarming smile. "Come on choose a nickname for yourself."
"Umm..' Ami ' ." You say. It makes sense your RM's old friend and that's what landed you here.
"Ok Ami welcome to bangtan. We are all family here"
Family is blood And blood follows you every where
You nod.
"Is your name a code too?" You ask.
"No." She says with a laugh as beautiful as her face. "But if anyone wants to hurt J-hope's sister they have a lot of nerve."
Later when your training started you would come to know J-hope's sister was the resident femme fatale. The one responsible for dozens of deaths and hundreds of disappearances. That whoever came to know her didn't live to tell the tale.
Jiwoo's tour is quick and brief.
You both reach the cafeteria. You see that some of the girls are being weighed before receiving meals.
Jiwoo shows you the medicine machine.
"What is this?" You ask.
"This is the med station. After scanning your badge. You get all medication you may need like vitamins, birth control and whatever the doctor prescribed you at your monthly check." She explains.
You admire the technology at this plate. But then you remember it was Namjoon who was the boss of this place and he was the biggest nerd you knew. Atleast some things never change.
"I am going back. Good luck." She says before leaving.
You eat as much as your stomach allows and then go back to your room to sleep.
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This gif hits right in the feels
You wake up at 9 am. You lay on the bed for a while before deciding to take a shower. You go to one of the vending machines in the laundry room which gives personal use satchels.
You stand behind another girl. Watching her use the machine.
She leaves and it's your turn you are surprised to find more options than you'd seen on her screen.
Quickly you select things matching your preference.
Luckily the bathroom doesn't have a mirror. The mirror is located inside the cupboard.
You change into the uniform type outfit present. It's comfortable enough, more importantly it's your only option.
You sit and start drawing things you saw yesterday to pass time.
There's a knock on your door.
There he stands your tormentor. He comes in quick taking care to close the door. You are surprised it's only been 45 minutes since you showered.
"Mornin y/n, I didn't want anyone else to see. I'm sorry." You nod.
He offers you one of the packets he was holding.
It has your favourite warm drink and baked items.
"Just have breakfast before the questions please y/n. I will tell you everything no point fainting on me right?"
You nod curtly.
He also hands you another packet.
It has change of clothes and undergarments. You refuse to comment on them for now. Choosing to focus instead on the warm breakfast.
"Sit." Your voice comes out more gruff than intended probably due to disuse.
He carefully sits on the other chair of coffee table and watches you eat.
When you are half done you realise Namjoon is not eating. Fear laces you what if he had drugged you.
You offer him your sandwich.
He smiles his dimples showing and its like you're in high school sharing lunch again.
"I did have breakfast but who am I say no to you baby." He says and takes a bite. You feel calmer and gobble down everything. It helps its exactly how you like it.
It has been years since Namjoon felt content. He no longer is empty. You, his other half is here. To fix him, to hold him, to complete him and he will make sure you don't leave.
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Taglist: @sweetwolfcupcake ; @scuzmunkie
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miss-smutty · 4 years ago
Text
Forbidden
Chapter 1
A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵
Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?
Word count- 1.5 K
Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC
Warnings- Swearing, age gap
18+ only!
Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.
Posted: 5th August 2021
Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle
@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts
Chapter 2
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I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.
I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.
I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt. 
"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.
"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.
It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.
"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.
"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.
"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.
"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.
"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.
"What part of Australia are you from?"
"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America." 
"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though." 
"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?
"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.
I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.
"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.
"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?
********
I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.
Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd
gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.
"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.
"What're you talking about?" 
"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."
"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.
"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.
I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.
"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me." 
"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.
"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."
"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?" 
"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine." 
"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.
"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."
"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."
"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.
There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.
The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 
Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?
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martamatta95 · 2 years ago
Text
Referring to an earlier post of mine about a possible connection between Cobb and Korkie.
This is a preview of a One shot, it's just a few fragments scattered throughout the story.
Obviously the theme has to do with it is always Dincobb 😍
-------->
"We need more men...", she whispers with some ideas.
"We're rounding them up, but it takes time", Din replies.
The Mandalorian princess's thoughts turn elsewhere, while the others go about their business. There is one who could help her, who has stayed out of all this.
*
"Good morning Foreigner", Jo greets her cordially but handling the rifle with care, "Welcome to Freetown, excuse our mistrust, but what brings you to the city?".
“I'm looking for the marshal", she says bluntly and the young woman wonders if all Mandalorians are that blunt and if Cobb gives off some sort of aroma or hormone that draws them to him like womp rats with syrup.
"For what exactly?".
"He sends Din Djarin to me with a gift. My stay will not be long as I have duties to return to".
Jo looks her up and down with a raised eyebrow, she was under the impression of her that she had told him half truth and half lie.
"Mando's friends, they're ours too", Cobb's voice gets the two women's attention.
And the Mandalorian in blue is frozen staring at him, all the while the marshal approaches reassuring Jo and beckons the newcomer to follow.
The young woman curiously notes that the determined and relentless steps the Mandalorian has taken since she stepped off the ship have become hesitant and shaky.
*
She takes off his helmet wanting to observe that face so aged with his own eyes.
He doesn't hold back. She doesn't hide her emotions from him, it's been so long. And, from the marshal's expressions, she understands that they are a mirror of each other's emotions.
"Korkie...", Bo whispers thinking he must be almost 50 now, his parents were 18 when they conceived him, Korkie Kryze was born in 39 BBY.
Counting with his parents, Korkie was 39 when his father died. He's now he's 47, the age on his face roughened by desert life, giving him more wrinkles and years than he should have.
The marshal sighs, he was a boy the last time he saw her, now he's a man.
"I haven't heard that name for a long time, ba'vodu", Cobb smiles at her and now Bo-Katan is sure of it, it's her sister's same smile
*
And that I was hoping it was just a courtesy visit, but there never was any courtesy with you. Just duty and struggle,” sighs Cobb taking a long swig of spochtka, “Why do you need me? From the rumors that reach me of your war quite a few Clan have joined Mando and his cause".
"Do you know about his role as Mand'alor?".
"I try to stay informed, I never thought the past would come back to haunt me here too. I've tried to erase it and stay away from it".
Bo laughs shaking his head, "You're a terrible liar and a hypocrite. If you really didn't care, you wouldn't be listening to anything Mandalorian news and you wouldn't have taken Fett's armor beyond your need".
Cobb opens his mouth ready to argue, but then closes it forcefully baring his teeth. Why did he always find the right spots to hit him? Even his mother had a great talent in this.
"I don't want to go back for a people who allowed a woman like my mother to die, in a sense they killed her. And the Mandalorians never change, they are always there ready to go back to old habits and violence. They don't know how to do anything else".
Bo-Katan shakes her head, "Not all Mandalorians are like that, not even yours Mando or you would never have given him Fett's armor back."
"Why are you here, aunt?", Cobb cuts short.
"Don't you know?", the red-haired woman looks into his eyes, "Many remember you and your actions against Maul and some consider you the true heir of Mandalore by birthright. They also remember other feats that you accomplished in those years and you were just a kid, imagine what you could do now".
*
Cobb grimaces and bites his tongue not sure how to answer her. If there's one thing he wants to keep from each other it's the life of Korkie Kryze with the life of Cobb Vanth.
"This belongs to you, bury it or sell it. Do with it what you will, but I ask you only one thing, think about it".
Bo-Katan gets up from his seat, not giving him time to retort, "No one knows I came here, no one knows you are alive and deeply connected with the marshal of Freetown."
She puts on her helmet and nods to him, "Glad to see you again, Korkie. I'm leaving in a couple of hours. The rest is up to you."
Cobb waits for her to come out then sigh, now knowing that she is alive and doing what she has always done: fight.
His gaze rests on the bag and biting his lip, he opens it. There within it is his condemnation and his hope.
*
Quick and accurate Blaster shots echo through the hall and then lights in some corners of the large room explode, sending glass shards and sparks falling.
A sudden silence falls between the fighting, the movements frozen in alert to await any new danger. The Nite Owls make their appearance. Din was wondering what had become of them, but something is not right.
The blue, white and silver group commando has red armor with blue decorations and the Kryze house symbol is painted all over the chest in black, on the right shoulder pad there is a familiar symbol in white.
Din has never seen this armor and probably never seen this man who leads the group of the most feared Mandalorians in the galaxy. Bo-Katan joins him, each of them wearing helmets and holding their heads up with pride.
Grogu watches him with his mouth open and stretching his fingers towards him, Din doesn't know it's for some form of greeting or a call for attention.
The fact remains that silence remains in the great hall, while all helmets and faces are turned towards the group and the footsteps of the Nite Owls echoes through the walls like the beating of hammers in a mining tunnel.
“I return after 30 years of exile, following the voices of a faint hope for our people”, the voice echoes through the room, pitched neither too high nor too low.
The distorted voice from the helmet sounds familiar to Din's ears, but he's not sure who he belongs to or who resembles him.
"And here's what I find, massiff dazzling and biting each other".
*
"I know who you are, Korkie Kryze."
The pronunciation of the name unleashes groans of surprise and whispers among the other Mandalorian, while the Nite Owls are left behind in silence, including Bo-Katan.
"You judge us, but where have you been for the past 30 years? I understand you fled after the collapse of Darth Maul's business in Sundari"
If Din was curious before the stranger, now he has a complete interest in him. He didn't know there was another Kryze out there, what connection did he have with Bo-Katan? Is he a brother or a cousin?
"That's like The Armorer, I went into exile because I wanted to clear my mind about everything that happened then. It had to process a deep mourning that circumstances didn't allow me to focus on," explains Korkie calmly, "But there have been some events over the next 15 years that prevented me from knowing the fate of my people or what was happening in the universe. I fought my way to protect people in a place where there was no justice and kindness, I pretended that the past didn 't exist and neither did the blood that runs through my veins".
Korkie hadn't hidden the hatred in those words.
"And why this behavior?", Din does not realize that he has spoken, until the man in red does not turn his visor towards him.
“I hated my people for what happened to Satine Kryze,” he says sincerely and bluntly.
*
"The reason I'm here is you, Din Djarin".
Din doesn't know why, he's faced Dark Troppers or fearsome bounty hunters and imposing creatures, but now he shivers from the weight of that gaze.
Grogu looks out from the stage stretching his hands in Korkie's direction as if he wanted to get his attention, he has never behaved like this with anyone.
The Mandalorian in red, though he doesn't stop looking at Din, moves his hand to take something from one of the pockets on his belt.
"I'm not here for that cursed weapon or to ask you for a duel", he speaks bluntly and takes a chocolate bar out of his pocket.
Grogu's eyes light up as the treat is placed between his tiny fingers, but before he grabs it the little boy strokes Korkie's hand with affection.
Din is surprised by the small gesture of generosity and even more so when the stranger in red strokes his son's head with affection. He did all of this without taking his eyes off the Mand'alor.
"We have mutual friends, Din Djarin, whom I asked about you" .
"Ashoka Tano and Cobb Vanth", he adds resolutely placing his hands on his hips, in that damn familiar posture.
*
"But I want you to know one thing", Korkie's tone is stern, "If you go astray, I won't hesitate to kill you."
There is a heavy silence between the two, Grogu is completely indifferent to the threat that his new favorite has pronounced towards his father.
Korkie huffs a laugh, "Maybe I was too harsh, killing is a bit extreme, sorry".
Din smiles back, "If our roles were reversed, I would have said the same thing".
"I'm glad to know that we understand each other, but the threat remains, I'll kick your ass if you behave inappropriately towards our people or other peoples".
"Roger it, Kryze".
“Call me Cob… Korkie”, the man in red speaks so quickly that Din isn't sure he said anything wrong.
"Call me Din, Korkie".
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