#IDK where to go from here...

[saturnsorbits]

The Storm: A Saturnari Story

WC: 2.6k,

A/N: A little more lore for last nights post. Thank you to BTP, you asked the question and this was kind of cathartic to put together.

It’s a Friday and we’re at a bar. Usual stuff, y’know. Drinks, the gang, there’s laughter bouncing off the walls, blending with the music and bleeding into our veins. Everything is good… Until it isn’t. 

I’m at the bar? Or in the toilet? Kaminari can’t remember, but when Sero is dragged up by an excitable Mina for a dance, it’s only the two of them left alone in the booth. Jirou turns to him with apple red cheeks and rum on her lips and sighs. He tries to convince himself it’s a trick of the light when he catches it, his own lust reflected back at him through the opals of her eyes, but it’s not. The truth is, they just kind of missed each other back in school, back when she never took him seriously and he matured too slowly. The air is thick, the thrum of his heart loud. He can feel it. His being calls for her, reaches out wanting to touch, to taste, to feel: just once. 

Just to get her out of his system. 

He knows I worry about her. He knows I’ve seen the looks. The thoughts of another life that flicker through his mind, the life where it’s her on his arm and not me. 

The alcohol in his veins loosens his tongue, brings impulse to the surface of his skin and dares him to indulge it. Words stick behind his Adam’s apple and bob there, the whispers of ‘I think I could have loved you’ that swim in his mind when she raises her eyebrows at him… An unspoken question: a sin. 

It’s Bakugo who gets to him. It always is. The hand he has wrapped around Kaminari’s neck is too tight to be friendly, bordering on crushing and leaves him pinned like a bug. He’s smiling when I return to the booth, they both are. Bakugo shoves his catch towards me, says ‘Take him home’ in the same way he says ‘he careful’ and retreats, watching with predatory eyes as we slip through the crowd and head home. 

Kaminari glances over his shoulder, looks for Jirou in the crowd, frowning when he can’t find her. Across the room Bakugo scowls. He slips his hand into Kiri’s and squeezes, remembering just how lucky he is to have a love like he has at home. 

Still, despite the intervention,  it’s already begun. 

Neither of them remember who suggests it, but the details don’t really matter. It’s almost 8:45pm the following Sunday when Kaminari’s knuckles are rattling against her door and she’s opening it with only a old t-shirt hanging from her shoulders. 

He calls me on the way to her place. Just once. His hand shakes around his phone, his heart a humming bird that feeds on his own destruction. He whispers, voice cracking down the phone: ‘Just once, I promise. I just…’ 

He’s crying. I can hear it. Each hollow, hiccuping sob echos in the cavern of my skull, but I keep quiet, let him finish. 

‘I need this. I - fuck. I just need to get it out of my system. I -.’ He bites his tongue hard enough to bleed. There’s no way he can explain, expose the rotten center of him that knows this will break you, not when he’s only two minutes from her apartment. So he doesn’t. ‘Fuck. I’m so… I’m so sorry. I just - I know it’s fucked up. It’s fucked. It’s - I just… I love y-.’ 

The line goes dead after that. 

I’m not there when he gets home, but Kirishima is. He returns with a duffel bag and an offer of sanctuary - a place in his and Bakugo’s spare room so I can piece myself back together. The next week is… Odd. There’s the heartbreak, obviously, the rift that opens up within the friend group and a notable, angrier version of Kirishima that shows off an almost Bakugo-level colour in language, but on a whole it’s just the same. The sun still rises, the birds still sing outside of the window, Bakugo still cooks as well as he always has and work is the usual 9-5 drone. 

It’s enough, for a while, my new normal… That is until I see her again. 

There’s still a bruise on her neck when I see her. It’s small; a faded purple that seems to perfectly match her hair and it turns my stomach knowing that there are probably more that I can’t see; little reminders of him scattered all over her body. She pulls her collar up when she notices me staring and I don’t blame her. I’m not trying to hide it and her discomfort makes something proud and angry squirm in my chest. 

We’re in some coffee shop. It’s one I don’t frequent, one I don’t even like - just so I won’t have to spend the next few weeks dragging Bakugo and Kirishima out to re-write the memories of this conversation. 

She sips at the edge of a coffee I paid for and bites her cheek. ‘It’s always been you, hasn’t it?’ 

My eyebrows raise. ‘What?’ 

‘You know what I mean.’ 

I assure her that I absolutely fucking do not. 

‘He only thinks he wants me. It’s not… I don’t think he’s ever really…’ She swallows, hiccups a sob and burns his tongue. ‘He doesn’t love me, he never has. I - fuck…’ She rubs her eyes. ‘I used to wish I was you, y’know. When you first got together and he changed, stopped doing all that gear, being so… So.’ 

‘He got better, Jirou - You can’t begrudge him that.’ 

‘No… No, but it was all for you.’ 

You snort. ‘Obviously not.’ 

We sit in silence for a while after that. I look out of the window, watch couples pass by and try not to vomit. ‘He told me, y’know.’ 

Jirou’s head snaps up from the table, a small furrow between her eyebrows. 

I smile, shake my head, blow air out of my nose like that will stop the tears. It doesn’t. ‘He rang me before he went over, told me he had to get you out of his system. That he needed it. He needed you.’

She’s floundering as it dawns on her, but the moment my words slot together in her head, her eyes blow wide. ‘He told you?’ 

I nod. 

‘So I was just… He was…’ She can’t spit it out because that will make it true, so she locks it behind her teeth instead. 

‘He fucked both of us over.’ I offer. 

She counters. ‘I fucked you over too.’ 

I smile, look at the table. I’m already too tired to get into the semantic and with every passing second I’m running out of steam. ‘Yeah.’ My phone buzzes on the table - a text from Bakugo lighting up the screen when I flip it over to check. 

Katsuki: ‘Want me to come get you?’ 

I text back a quick ‘Yes, please’ knowing that he’s probably half-way here anyway and down the rest of my drink with two clean gulps. ‘For what it's worth i think he loves you… In his own way. You and him, it’s… It’s unfinished.’ 

Jirou smiles, catches herself and squashes it. ‘He loves you more.’ 

‘It’s not a competition. ‘I snap. ‘Have you spoken to him?’ 

She shakes her head. ‘He, he won’t.’ Tears spill over her cheeks, tiny diamonds that shatter when they hit her fingers. ‘And Kiri, Kiri told me it’s probably best if…’ 

‘I’m not going to stop you talking to him.’ The words shake when they come out of my mouth, but it’s stronger than I could have hoped. ‘I mean it. I won’t. I can’t.’ 

She’s about to say something more when Bakugo walks in, but it falls dead on her tongue at the sight of him. He buys a coffee to go and waits as I awkwardly trade goodbye’s with Jirou and we leave. 

Seeing him again is… Something. 

Kaminari looks like he hasn’t slept. Fuck. It looks like he hasn’t eaten or showered either, but the first thing he does is offer me a cup of tea. The kitchen is bare, like he hasn’t been shopping since I’ve been gone, but the box of tea he pulls out is new. It’s my favourite brand, the one he thinks tastes like dirt. 

We drift back into the living room and sit on the couch in an uneasy silence. My cup is half empty before he breaks it. 

‘I’m… Fuck, I’m so.’ 

I swallow my mouthful and cut him off before he can apologize. ‘I spoke to Jirou.’ 

His eyes blow wide, a trapped fox with no escape. 

But this time, there are no dogs to run from. Just me, a sheep in wolf’s clothing. ‘She’s been texting you.’

‘I - I haven’t responded, I -.’ 

‘I know.’ I take a breath.

This moment right here has plagued me for two weeks. It’s kept me awake. It’s burrowed so deeply inside of me that I’ve spent every waking moment picturing all the different ways this could go…

I’ve imagined screaming at him, calling him out and cursing him - tearing him to shreds and making him bleed in a poor attempt to pay him back for the hole he’s created in my chest.

I’ve imagined ghosting him, moving on and pretending he doesn’t exist; leaving me to limp alone into a future where another happy ending may never find me.

I’ve imagined taking him back.

Imagined him doing it again.

I’ve imagined him leaving me for her, properly this time - a forever conclusion to this transgression.

I’ve imagined all of it, played it out on the back of my eyelids in the early hours. 

Still… What I hadn’t equated for is the heat that bubbles under my skin when I see him. It’s painful. The force of the emotion crushes my lungs and pins down my tongue. It cages me, refuses to let me go even as I fight it; even as I beg it to and eventually… Eventually, I’m forced to admit it.

‘I still love you... But, I need time.’ There’s tears in my tea. I can see them. They dive from the tip of my chin and splash, sorrow filled raindrops that salt the brew. 

‘I - I can give you time. As much as you need, anything. I’ll give you anything, even…’ He swallows, chokes. ‘Even if you need me to go away.’ 

‘Do you want to?’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Okay.’

‘I understand… If, if you don’t want to see me again, I -.’ 

I bite the inside of my cheek. ‘I said okay, Denki.’

I want to tell him that I need to find myself again. That I need to piece back together the parts of me that ask ‘why her?’ and ‘why wasn’t I enough?’ when I lie awake at night, but I don’t… Those are my burdens to bare now. Instead, I tell him to get some sleep, to eat for gods sake and take a damn shower. 

‘Can I see you again?’ 

‘Not for a while.’ 

The light dulls in his eyes, but he nods. ‘I…’ Coughing the film from his voice, he offers a smile. ‘I’ve signed back onto the programme, Aizawa’s paired me up with another sponsor. Just a precaution, y’know, the self destruction is obviously back - don’t want the rest of it coming back too.’ 

‘I’m glad.’ 

‘And you’ll call?’ He’s hopeful, a little boy who’s been promised a puppy for Christmas if he’s good. ‘When… If… If you’re ready. I’ll wait. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll… I’ll always wait for you.’ 

I reach out and touch his cheek, fall back into him easily, just like I did for the first time all those years ago. I press a singular, soft kiss to his lips before I leave.

‘I love you.’ He whispers it, stuffing a million more words into it as he breathes them on my skin. 

I don’t say it back. 

As soon as the air outside hits me I all, but collapse into Bakugo. He’s solid and warm as I press my cheek against his chest, my fists balled in the flimsy material of his windbreaker as the material of the t-shirt underneath darkens with tears. I’m numb, stranded in an endless desert of heart shards… 

‘I didn’t want to feel like this again…’ A sob wrecks my chest as the well deepens, opening up to swallow me whole. It all comes flooding back. Heartbreart nestles back into my ribcage and burrows there, promising to make me it’s home. I choke on a sob. ‘I don’t want - I can’t. I can’t do this again.’

Bakugo feels it too. The prickle of my heartbreak infests him. It’s been a while since he last saw me like this, but it’s still far too soon for his liking.

I was supposed to be happy.

It makes him sick to the stomach, but it’s the memories that really do a number on him. It’s hard to forget the last time he’d seen me reduced to a shadow, struggling against the tide of numbness that threatens to engulf me. He remembers it all too well. He remembers because he was the cause of it. ‘I know.’ He coos, consoles himself with the thought that at least this time he can be here  - this time he can help. Kissing my crown, he holds me like he’s keeping me together, because he is. ‘I know sweetheart, I know.’

A month down and it’s Friday again. We’re at a bar. Usual stuff, y’know. Drinks, the gang, minus a few, there’s laughter bouncing off the walls, blending with the music and bleeding into our veins. Everything isn’t good… But, it’s better. 

I’m in a booth with Sero chattering about the latest hero numbers when he huffs out a laugh and leans in close. His pupils have blown, the brown of his iris vanquished. He’s more drunk than usual, but he’s just stopped seeing the latest in a long string off on/off again partners, so it’s to be expected. None of us chastise him for it. 

Still, he’s grinning and frowning all at once when he mumbles into my ear: ‘Wanna know a secret?’ 

‘Sure.’ 

‘Me and Denks used to fool around y’know… Way back, like college, way back.’ He swallows, then snarls and clenches his jaw: hard. ‘Thought it was going somewhere until I walked in on him and someone else… Said he didn’t think we where serious, but he fucking knew.’ He hiccups. ‘He knew I liked him.’ 

I wait, letting the alcohol slow the shock.

‘He’s got no fucking impulse control, and that was before… Before all that. It was nice to see it bite him in the ass.’ 

‘I didn’t…’ I frown, wrapping a hand around Sero’s wrist. ‘I didn’t know.’ 

He shrugs, signature grin back in place as he sips from his beer. ‘Doesn’t matter now. He fucked it with the best thing that ever happened to him, that’s enough karma for a lifetime.’ 

‘I -.’ It’s a lot of information to take in, but before I can catastrophize and think too deeply about Kaminari’s apparent pattern of behaviour, Sero is downing his drink and yanking on my hand. He flashes a sad, tired smile and I can see my own heartbreak reflected in his eyes. 

He flexes his palm. ‘Fuck him. Dance with me.’ 

[moskeetees]

Forget shipping wars, I came up with an absolutely deranged ship chart that is unreadable to anyone who isn’t me. I allow constructive criticism, but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen.

[sixpennydame]

“What the actual fuck, y/n.”

You’d never heard Levi sound so angry. Almost disgusted.

“I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. It’s apparent what’s happened here.”

Enraged, Levi barges through the room, inspecting every corner. “You really didn’t think I’d notice? You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

You follow him as he continues his tirade. “I’m sorry. It’s doesn’t mean anything…”

At that, he turns, his brow furrowed.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“No! You are!” you argue. “It’s just —“

“Then why the hell would you hire a house cleaner??”

You should have known he’d notice.

“We’ve just been so busy lately, and I thought you’d appreciate the help. You know I’m terrible at cleaning.”

“That’s true. You really are shit at it. And I guess I have been busy lately.” With a sigh Levi moves toward you. He grabs your waist and pulls you against him, your arms immediately going around his neck. “But don’t do that again, unless you really want to piss me off.”

You gently kiss his lips and then pull back with a smirk. “I don’t know, I kinda like it when you get riled up.”

“Don’t push your luck..” He returns your kiss with another.

“Umm…excuse me…”

A voice in the corner breaks the two of you from your intimate moment.

“Should I keep cleaning this room, or…” the housecleaner asks.

Silvery blue eyes flash at the little old lady, who stands with broom in hand.

“You’re dismissed,” he says. “And shut the door behind you.”

[puppyeared]

(guy who has never played cotl) haha au time

[arminsumi]

just absolutely love dumb, nervous wreck, antsy-pants satoru who cannot chill around you. he has to go to suguru for reassurance that his hair looks good, that his breath smells good, that his outfit isn't lame, etc. this earns him a snicker from his best friend, and a pat on the back, and a "satoru. you're good. stop overthinking. you're just saying hello."

but just saying hello takes all his composure. the stars have to be aligned. when he reaches you, he's a stuttering dorky awkward nonsensical chaotic MESS of a person.

"hey! hi. hello. how are you? YEAH. i'm... good. haha. yes. ok. well... i've gotta goooooooo......."

and he leaves because his heart is panging so hard it feels like he's about to have a heart attack. that's just how you got him. and you have no idea. you're just happily going about your life while this poor boy is falling to pieces for you.

he's so love dumb that he can't focus on studying for too long, thoughts always leading back to you.

oh god you complimented him? he will remember that compliment for YEARS.

[crystallizsch]

okay hi so listen hear me out

sea snake is a bit too obvious (and too boring)

so i made him based on some kind of lionfish??? (bc something something venomous marine animal) also with a LOT of creative liberties i made with how the fish looks like

let’s also give his fins some rips and tears here and there bc what are the implications of that??? that’s for you 🫵 to decide

anyways chat i lowkey dont know what i was doing

i had no other thoughts but haha funny snake man i turn into fish

[katabay]

listen. I know that thee ac2 ship is ezio/leonardo but please…consider…….ezio/machiavelli

the Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood novelization, Oliver Bowden

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / tip jar!

[oreo-creampie]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 💭 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Satoru who breaks up with you cause he doesn't wanna settle down for long. But then a year later he finds himself thinkng about you still. He misses living with you, waking up next to you, taking showers with you, softly kissing you.

Then it hits him that you'll do all these things with someone else. You'll tell someone else you love them. And he hates it, he misses you so damn much.

Eventually he buys a perfume you used to have. And some underwear, he sprays the panties in perfume puts it on his face and jerks off thinking of you

One day after not speaking to you for three years he runs into you again.

[dunmer-dovahkiin]

if TES6 ever comes out I hope they introduce the fame/infamy system again

in skyrim I found it so annoying that when you literally just started some questlines, people across the country mentioned it to you, and equally, when you are level 50 mega boss, saved the world, ended the war, became head of every guild, are thane of every hold, own an insane amout of realestate and wear a boss babe outfit thay costs more than all of dawnstar, and some rando guard still calls you a milkdrinker

[freakartack]

"...Hello? Ma! I told you not to call me today, I'm making a movie!" -Wario, Mario Power Tennis

The most important lesson from Ma that Wario took to heart was the endless pursuit of cold, hard cash. Unfortunately, the one lesson she could never teach him was the importance of hard work to get it.  It wasn't for lack of trying; Wario's Ma is the hardest worker this side of the Mushroom Kingdom.  Raising Baby Wario was a herculean enough task on its own, but ever the enterprising spirit, she had also set out to grow one of the most profitable crops: garlic.

Her backyard business quickly expanded into a veritable garlic empire. Wario's mother toiled away tirelessly each day from sunrise to sunset to grow and harvest as much garlic as she could possibly achieve.  Much of Wario's current strength and endurance can be attributed to helping his mom on the farm as a child, although the teeth-pulling task of getting him to actually work was almost as difficult as preventing him from eating all the garlic straight out of the ground.  Wario's nose for instant gratification has always been a thorn in his mother's side, but try as she might to instill a solid work ethic into the boy, her "get-rich-slow" schemes could never appeal to him.  Still, Wario enjoyed his surprisingly agrarian upbringing. Along with garlic, his mother also raised chickens for eggs, inspiring in Wario a lifelong soft spot for poultry.  (He also had a pet hamster named Fluffy, who sadly passed away in 1986.)

Today, Wario is still on good terms with his mother despite their physical distance, and frequent phone calls keep her updated on all of Wario's business successes.  Of course, being Wario, he heavily embellishes the amount of work he actually does at his company.  If she only knew...

[shalomniscient]

jingliu angst where she only tolerates you cus u remind her of baiheng sjjahagsab im dead

[nsft utc]

tw. mentions of vomiting (?), unhealthy/toxic dynamic, identity loss

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

it began back on your home planet, ravaged and carved by interastral powers of all its resources, leaving behind a gnawing, gaping hole in the ground and the hearts and bellies of its people. you once mourned your more normal childhood—but the hunger in your stomach and in your soul consumed that too. your meals were few and far between, snatched from the hands of other starving husks, and it was the only joy you ever had as a child. the trickery and the thrill. it’s the only joy you get to keep into adulthood, a twisted elation that grants you a place in the cosmic court of jesters; the masked fools.

it’s—predictably—fun. trickery and thrill are the bread and butter of the fools. your mask affords you many, many opportunities for both, and though you have never had your belly achingly empty since, that hunger in your soul is not so easily sated. now, what you crave is the rush, the adrenaline, the oxytocin. and so you dance on marble floors with a different face each time, with partners who either wish you dead or in their beds, the space between you measured in an unfathomable amount of risk which you exchange for an unfathomable amount of thrill. you scamper along the length of this cosmic ballroom like a starving, feral fox in tall grass, the red of your fur as inviting as the white of your teeth are sharp. you hunt and you haunt, seeking something to fit between your aching teeth, something that will burst on the sharp point of your canines and smear your lips with pure elation and maybe satisfy that abyssal hunger in your psyche.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

and you have never seen more tantalizing a meal than a devil with a coffin and a woman who seeks to kill a god. she holds the tip of a ice-hewn blade beneath your chin the first time you meet, nicking the delicate skin of your neck, just above your pulse. you swallow. let out a laugh that sounds like a barking fox, and the woman’s sword falters. surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for you to convince her to let you tag along on her fool’s errand. it’s almost poetic. you learn of her name—jingliu. it’s pretty. rolls off your tongue. jingliu doesn’t bother to learn yours, but she calls you fox. you don’t mind the scrap of attention. after all, you’ve spent your whole life living off scraps.

travelling with jingliu (and by extension, luocha) does not lack for excitement. the road to deicide is paved with elation, even if your blue-haired companion refuses to see it. through battle and through the long travel between star systems in pursuit of the great fleet, you get somewhat closer to jingliu. it doesn’t take very long for you to slip into her bedroll (or cot, depending where you are). mara, you find, though cannot be cured can certainly be sated; much like the permanent hunger that curls in your belly. jingliu fucks you until neither of you are coherent enough to feel much of anything, madness or hunger. it’s an arrangement you find yourself enjoying. and as a by-product of such intimacy, you learn more about jingliu. her mannerisms, her illness—her past. she doesn’t tell you any of this, of course, but you can put two and two together from the things she lets slip deep in the throes of some nightmare after fucking you senseless. she gets many of those. the pattern is always the same. at first, she’ll sleep relatively soundly. but then, her brow creases, and her lip curls, and she angrily mutters a few names under her breath; a certain dan feng and yingxing. she curses them, then almost makes a noise like a sob, and something else leaves her lips— another name, but this time spoken with heartache and longing.

baiheng.

it doesn’t take much to infer that this baiheng was someone jingliu cared very much about. though when you ask luocha more about her, he reveals a little detail that makes her moderately more interesting—baiheng was a foxian. in some ways, that makes you similar to her, even though foxian you are not. the thought amused you once, as you looked back upon jingliu’s restless, sleeping form. perhaps jingliu saw her lost lover in you. how… quaint. the assumption never bother you, not really—until she starts to call for baiheng while she’s fucking you.

you’re no stranger to casual sex. even before jingliu, you never lacked for partners eager to share a bed with you. no, the fucking itself isn’t the problem—it’s how she’s fucking you. it isn’t with the detachment and pure lust like you’re used to. instead it’s almost like she cares, hands gentle on your hips as she drives her cock in and out of your greedy cunt. she fills you like she never wants for you to want for anything anymore, and even though you know it isn’t you this affection is for, that jingliu is barely even aware that you’re you and not baiheng, you can’t help but devour it feverishly every time.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and like this, with jingliu’s cock filling your pussy as she deliriously presses the shape of a dead woman’s name against your neck, you finally feel full.

and it makes you sick.

you crawl out of her embrace and spill your guts every time she falls asleep. your body utterly rejects the feeling—you’ve been so used to starving that the sensation of being full turns you ill. and yet, you can’t seem to push her away. you always come back, always relax under her touch, always pliant for her just to chase that brief, beautiful high you’ve never been able to find anywhere else only to bleed it once she’s done. your heart’s a pythagorean cup; a little too much and you’re spilling over. but you’re so greedy for it, still greedy for her. of all things it is affection that’s the most potent drug you’ve ever tasted, beyond the cheap thrill of oxytocin and adrenaline—even if none of it is meant for you, even if it’s just scraps. but that’s fine.

after all—you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and if that means wearing the face of a dead woman and letting the hunger finally devour you whole, then so be it.

[redwitchrune]

something about comfort, blue and orange, and new perspectives

[blind0raven]

Fellow can sweet talk his way into NRC through Crowley all he wants

But Kalim is the real reason that bastard is staying long, he sensed Fellow was in the campus and just literally showered him with friendship and shit

KALIM YOU CAN'T JUST AUTOMATICALLY ADOPT FELLOW LIKE THAT!!!

Ya gotta take him for his rabie shot first, the bitch desperately needs that first

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner. 

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly. 

What are the chances… 

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either. 

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’ 

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone. 

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

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To be continued!

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[crazymecjc]

armand iwtv save me,,,, save me armand iwtv