#The boy who cried wolf tells a lie today also

[beauty-marked-beauties]

Today's Beauty-Marked Beauty is: Keitarou Itsuki from Ookami Shounen wa Kyou mo Uso wo Kasaneru

Submitted by: Anonymous

[transanimegirl]

screenshots from chapter 9 of Ookami Shounen

[bunnybunblitz]

pretty much just on here to be frustrated but i could’ve sworn i’d found “the boy who cried wolf tells a lie today also” thru a taiko web song claiming to be the theme song of it despite it being a manga not an anime and now taiko.bui.pm has been taken down and any attempts to find such theme song only bring up nursery rhyme videos and i’m starting to question if this even ever actually happened? more confusing than frustrating lol

[flipflap-flipflap]

[Alright take-two on this damn post.  First one got eaten by post editor right as I was ready to post.  You see how long this is?  Save to drafts, kids.]

I’m here to shove a manga on you: Ookami Shounen Wa Kyou Mo Uso O Kasaneru (The Boy Who Cried Wolf Also Told a Lie Today).  It’s a gender bending romance.  Despite how awful that probably sounds, it’s actually really fucking good and I do not say that lightly. 

(No spoilers, this is all in the first chapter)  A high school boy insecure about his intimidating face, Itsuki, has fallen for a shy loner girl, Tokujira, who does not seem specifically phased by his naturally scary face.  So he takes a risk and confesses, but she turns him down brutally.  Itsuki goes to his sister to lament his insecurities about his face, which he (more or less correctly) attributes as why he can’t make connections.  To give him a new perspective on his appearance, his sister (trans btw) gives him a makeover while he’s sleeping and then kicks him to the curb of her salon - fully crossdressed.  On his way home, Itsuki (♀) ends up bumping into Tokujira, and she mistakes him for a boyish girl.  Under this misunderstanding, she asks "her” for a favor...

She has androphobia, and she has it bad.  So much so she can’t even look at men without snapping violently or becoming physically ill.  And Itsuki (♀) is just boyish enough to trigger her, but not enough to lock her down.  So she asks for “her” help, to see if she can desensitize herself to her phobia. Itsuki’s in a bind for a couple obvious reasons, not the least being the guilt of deceiving Tokujira. But nonetheless, he genuinely wants to help her.  So, he decides to continue crossdressing, diving into a lie that he soon finds he has no easy exit from.

I really recommend this manga.  I cannot say that enough times.  It is phenomenal, shattering tropes left and right in fun and interesting ways.  Do yourself a favor and give this manga a try.

Personal feelings and meta analysis below the cut.  It’s, uh, ungodly long, and will get very spoilery.  But I will flag spoilers.  And there will be pretty pictures?

(Also, no, I did not go into this planning to compare a manga about crossdressing to the abolitionist writings of Frederick Douglass, but reality deserves to be a bit absurd sometimes.)

Before you think I’m getting spoilery, with the intro I gave or anything I don’t mark as spoilers, I’m really not.  Everything outside of spoilers is right on the package at the start.  It sounds like I’m spoiling late-game stuff, right?  That’s something that was really fantastic to me: this manga doesn’t spoon feed you.  There’s no arcs of pure silent angst, even at the lowest point in the story. These kids are smart, they think and intuit on the spot, and they share what they’re feeling with each other like good friends do.  Like that next panel down there with Itsuki introspecting about his confidence level while crossdressing?  That’s from the first chapter!  These kids are smart.  And god damn that is so nice to see.

There was a lot I liked about this manga, but at the top is how compelling the protagonist and his internal conflict are.  Right from the first chapter he’s already wracked with guilt about what he’s about to do: deceive this girl by pretending to be a safe space.  But Tokujira told Itsuki (♀) she hopes to one day be able to fall in love, and Itsuki wants to ensure she can have that - even if it’s not him that gets to confess to her.  He’s fully aware of exactly how fucked up what he’s doing is, and is appropriately beating himself up over it in a really realistic way.  But although the guilt never fades, it slowly gains company in happiness. He enjoys this new, fragile life he has constructed around the two precious new friends he's made as a girl.

It was probably easy to gloss over in the synopsis, but arguably the biggest part of Itsuki (♂)’s conflict is his complex about his face.  He looks dangerous, and because of that he is afraid to even lift his head or smile in front of others.  But as Itsuki (♀), he smiles and laughs without fear.  It becomes immediately clear to him on the first day that he's a more confident person while crossdressing.  Happier in a way he can't be as a man.

Botan is easily my favorite character in the series.  She’s introduced early on, as Tokujira’s first and only friend before Itsuki (♀).  At the start she’s a dangerous third wheel, a serious threat to Itsuki’s ability to keep up his lie.  And though the situation is (thankfully) defused rather quickly, she becomes a massive source of internal conflict for Itsuki. Nonetheless, she becomes a dear friend for both Itsuki ♂ and ♀. She’s just so...*chef’s kiss*

^This face is the repository of all my love and affection.

Mark my words, this is the first and I assume last time I will ever say this: love triangle good. You know it’s inevitable in a romance genre piece, but this manga approaches the trope in a new and compelling way. [Spoiler] Needless to say, it’s between Itsuki, Tokujira, and Botan.  But...there’s two Itsukis involved, ♂ and ♀, and in the center of it all is this lie. His lie stops being about him: it's about not hurting these two girls he cares so much about. [/Spoiler]

On a more personal note, I saw so much of myself in Itsuki’s older sister, Ibuki.  She runs a salon, catering especially to crossdressers and transwomen.  She’s a self-described “Youthling”, an alien from the planet Youth, obsessed with observing the exciting and turbulent lives of the youths of earth.  For more or less for the same reasons most of us do: transpeople don’t tend to get the youths we want, if we allow ourselves to experience youth at all. So it’s nice to be able to enjoy it vicariously, through this younger generation that is able to more fearlessly pursue the lives we couldn't. 

^Incidentally, one of my favorite interactions in the manga.

Despite getting Itsuki into this crossdressing mess, she’s someone he can always return to and confide in, and get good, helpful advice from.  Her whole philosophy is to give young people agency to explore their identities and find themselves, and though she tells Itsuki the road he's taking is dangerous as soon as she learns what he's doing, she'll always support him however she can.

That, I feel, is what separates her from other, more creepy/pedophilic enabler types, like Sawako from K-On! or Lucoa from Dragon Maid. It’s a refreshingly honest and respectful portrayal of a quirky adult just trying to be a good older sister.

The last thing I want to say, and I’m not going to even mark this as a spoiler because of course it’s going to happen and if you can’t predict that then you’re not my problem, is that Itsuki of course eventually has to drop his lie.  All I’ll say about it is that it is probably going to live in my head for years. Everything about it, the lead up, the execution, the fallout, and the recovery, are all so masterfully crafted for maximum emotional impact.

That’s all I want to say exclusively about my personal feelings.  On to analysis.  There will be a lot more contextual spoilers here that, even without reading the parts I’ve specially blocked off will probably leak through.  Read at your own risk, but I would recommend revisiting after you have finished the manga.

One thing I really want to talk about is language.  That’s right, I’m going to compare a crossdressing manga to The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, the autobiography of a freed slave turned abolitionist. Douglass talks about a concept that has remained imprinted on my mind ever since I first read it: how and why slaves struggled to comprehend the concept of freedom.  This wasn’t anything to do with fear or “racial inferiority” like pro-slavers would argue, but rather with a lack of vocabulary.  They have all of these feelings and things they know to be true, but lack the words to make meaningful sense of them.  For Douglass specifically, his life completely changed when he learned the word “abolition.”  It was like a floodgate burst, as he was suddenly able to put meaning to feeling, create context from chaos.

And that’s right, we see that happen in a big way, with Tokujira.  This should be an obvious development, but as it happens late in the manga I will mark it [Spoiler].  As Tokujira and Itsuki (♀) practice things like talking, eye contact, holding hands, etc., Tokujira naturally starts to fall for Itsuki (♀).  But she doesn’t understand that.  An important part of her character is that, growing up, she focused on expanding her vocabulary as much as humanly possible in the hopes of being able to better articulate herself.  So words are very important to her.  It’s not until she sees a work of lesbian fiction on display that she finally realizes that’s the word she’s looking for.  The floodgate bursts, and all of her emotions suddenly make sense.  She realizes she loves Itsuki (♀). [/Spoiler]

And I think that is a vital and underexplored concept when discussing LGBT youth, especially in countries where even knowledge of these concepts is taboo.  The reason so many LGBT youth struggle with their identities, especially trans youth, is because we do not have the vocabulary to conceptualize our feelings.  I am always excited to see this concept play out, especially in this context.  It’s such an important thing that needs to be addressed more broadly.

Moving on, I want to talk about historical context of the genre as it relates to what the author did here.  Notably, I want to talk about a specific trope rampant in Japanese queer fiction, specifically early lesbian fiction: the idea that queerdom is a meaningless, youthful phase that children will naturally and inevitably grow out of.  It’s problematic for obvious reasons.

[HELLA HELLA SPOILERS]  My kneejerk reaction to the ending of this manga was that the author fell into this trope.  In the end, Itsuki comes to the conclusion that he does not need to crossdress.  So again, kneejerk.  But...it really wasn’t like that.  He never had any dysphoria; crossdressing was always just a necessity of his circumstance.  Nonetheless he learned to analyze and value his experience crossdressing as a woman, and because of that grew as a man.  And as part of his journey to understand his identity we, through him, see why some people crossdress.  Along with his example, we see why his sister, a bona fide post-op transsexual, has made it a permanent change to her life.  Likewise, we see Miyama, who crossdresses purely for the gender euphoria, but has no (stated) interest in going all the way.  These are all presented as valid and meaningful. [/Spoiler]

Crossdressing, and gender nonconformity in general, is portrayed not as some one-dimensional fetish like cultural taboo would depict it to be, but rather a meaningful exercise for exploring and critically analyzing your own identity.  For some, yes, it’s a phase, but an importantly transformative one when done right.  While for others, it is a gateway to a new way of experiencing and enjoying life.  Or, it’s fun just for the pragmatic reasons...

I honestly cannot recommend this manga enough.  Tragically, I cannot imagine it ever getting an official english translation, so you’ll have to settle for a  scanlation like the one I linked in the title up top (and here, again).  It’s a really good translation, though the site is predictably sketchy.  Warning for lots of NSFW ads.

Read it, and then come talk to me about it!!!  There is basically zero fan community and I need to fangirl with someone!

[immoren]

I know how manga is read, still this became cursed when my brain spat this out in Yoda voice.

[antithetical-mess]

[tangalaid]

[ninak803]

So I wrote another thing! I try to write something happy the next time, I promise! But for now I just have this. Also this turned out much longer than I expected. I hope you enjoy it never the less!

A huge thank you to @heyitssmiller for helpin me through the weird english punctuation problem! And also for encouraging me to post it!

The Prank

“Re, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry…” Sirius said abashedly.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Remus shouted at Sirius. 

“I wasn’t thinking, I just -”

“That’s damn right! You weren’t thinking at all!” Remus interrupted him, his voice still raised. “Sirius Fucking Black didn’t think about what he was going to do! He didn't think of the consequences his stupid idea might have! Because he never gives a damn about consequences! I trusted you! And you just abused my trust like that! I’m so done with all your shit! And I tell you what. I’m done with you. We’re done.”

Sirius looked up at him, his face full of concern and pain. Remus had never shouted at him before, but then he’d never been that angry with Sirius. Right now he was just so damn irate. It was the day after the full moon and he could still feel the wolf under his skin, trying to gain some control over him, feeding on his anger, pushing it further.

“I know, you have every right to be angry with me, just let me…” Sirius started to say, but Remus interrupted him again.

“Save it, Black. I don’t want to hear anymore of your sad excuses. Save it.”

Remus took a deep breath, then looked over Sirius' shoulder to James, who was standing in the background, his head low, looking to the ground, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Thank you, for making him tell me. And for having my back.” Remus said directed at James. 

He looked up from the ground as Remus spoke to him, and smiled a bit, then nodded.

They were standing in the middle of their dorm, Remus just came back from the hospital wing. The air was thick, filled with rage and regret.

Remus walked over to his bed and sat down. 

“Come on now, Sirius.” James said. 

Sirius gave Remus a desperate look again, Remus was sure he wanted to say something. Wanted to explain himself again. But then he left the dorm with James.

Remus exhaled.

How did this happen? Why did Sirius do this? How could Remus have been so stupid to tell them his darkest secret? He should’ve known that something bad would happen. Something like that. Sirius went to Snape and told him to go to the Shack. On a full moon. While Remus was in there, transforming into a damn werewolf. If James wouldn’t have stopped Snape, Remus would’ve killed him! And now Snape knew. He knew what Remus was. He really should’ve known better.

He clenched his hands and punched against his bedpost, trying to find an outlet for his anger. Then he stood up again, took off his pants and layed back on his bed. He closed the curtains around it. 

He knew something was wrong, when he woke up all alone in the Shack that morning. He still felt the wolf inside him, who complained that he was all alone that night, all his friends missing, especially the large, black dog. And now both of them were angry, the wolf and Remus. 

He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself down a bit. He had to sleep. Everything was hurting right now, every muscle, every bone inside his body were still aching from the transformation. And now his heart was also hurting after everything today.

He closed his eyes, trying to find some rest. 

After a while the exhaustion overwhelmed him and he fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.

He didn’t know how long he had slept, but the feeling of betrayal came back a split second after he woke up. He heard footsteps coming closer to his bed, then they stopped right in front of it.

“Leave him be, Sirius.” James whispered in an admonishing tone. “You really did enough today. He needs to rest, you know that. Go to bed.”

Remus could hear a small sigh from Sirius, then he heard him walking over to his own bed. He heard the rustling of bedsheets, while both James and Sirius went to bed. 

He couldn’t fall asleep again and he knew Sirius wasn’t sleeping either. He could hear Sirius’ breathing, not even enough to be asleep. Serves him just right. 

Remus swallowed hard. The anger faded away a bit, just to leave more room for feeling betrayed, feeling the pain of a broken heart. He had trusted him, with his life. Remus wiped away the tears that appeared on his face.

He took out his wand and casted a silencing spell over his bed, just to make sure no one would hear him. It’s been a while since he felt the urge to cry himself back into sleep, but tonight was such a night. And after all that happened, who would judge him for that? So he cried over his broken heart, the broken trust, the friend he’d lost, his uncertain future.

He weeped until exhaustion swept over him and he fell asleep once again.

Remus woke up as a hand gently touched his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked into James’ face. 

“Sorry, Re, but I thought you’d like some breakfast before classes.” James said with a small smile on his face.

Remus nodded. 

“Thanks for waking me up…” Remus yawned and set up. He tried to look around James to see if the dorm was empty already. He really didn’t want to see Sirius.

James knew what he was looking for and said: “He’s not here, he left really early. I’m not sure if he slept at all.”

Remus stood up and shrugged.

“I really don’t care if he ever sleeps again. He better stays out of my way.”

And that was the problem. How do you stay out of someone's way if you’re literally living together? They shared a dorm, a bathroom, they had the same classes. 

Remus went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth and changed into his clothes. Then he went into the Great Hall for breakfast with James. 

Luckily Sirius wasn’t here. Remus just realised how hungry he really was. He skipped lunch and dinner yesterday, so he had to make it up now. He was really glad that James woke him, so he had enough time for a real breakfast.

Their first class today was Transfiguration. He went to the classroom with James and Peter, just to see Sirius was already sitting there. On his usual spot. Remus stopped, swallowed and looked at Peter.

“Let’s change seats today, Wormtail.” he said to Peter.

The other boy nodded, he knew what had happened of course. So Peter willingly took Remus’ seat next to Sirius and Remus took his seat. He was sitting now three places away from Sirius, which still wasn’t enough. 

The anger he had pushed down so far, came back just as strong as it was yesterday. Is this how things are going to be now? Will his heart always break apart a bit more, when he sees Sirius? Remus took a mental note: Never fall in love with your roommate again, it’s going to end bad and you’ll suffer a lot. 

He changed seats with Peter in all the other classes too and Sirius obviously didn’t like that. 

Remus skipped lunch that day, he stayed in the library between classes to do some research for his History of Magic homework, so when he finally went to dinner that night he was starving. He delayed going back to the Great Hall as long as he could, because he really dreaded to see Sirius there, surrounded by all the other people. They somehow had to act normal, didn’t they? Otherwise there would be so many questions. Questions he would rather not answer. 

When he entered the Hall, Sirius was still sitting there, next to him James and Peter. Remus went over to them and took a seat next to Lily, across from James. 

“Sorry, I’m late. I’ve been working on some homework.” he said, taking some food. 

“You must be hungry, I haven’t seen you during lunchtime” Lily said.

Remus nodded.

“Yeah, I had to catch up on the stuff I missed, when I was ill.” he smiled at Lily.

She smiled back at him genuinely.

He talked with Lily, James and Peter for the rest of dinner. Sirius didn’t say a single word. Remus didn’t look at Sirius once. Why should he have?

In the middle of the conversation about their potions homework, Sirius suddenly stood up and left the hall without a word. 

Lily frowned. 

“He’s acting weird today, isn’t he?” she asked. 

James shrugged. 

“He’s fine.”

Remus knew this was a lie, but he was relieved, that Sirius finally had left. He took a deep breath and finished his dinner.

Back in the common room, he told the others that he was tired and went up to their dorm. He didn’t know where Sirius was, he was neither in the common room nor in the dorm. 

Remus sat down on his bed. 

He’d felt Sirius’ looks on him all day. Remus had seen the desperation and the guilt on Sirius' face out of the corner of his eye. Remus didn’t look at him directly. He didn’t speak to him. Sirius didn’t deserve it.

So Remus finished some homework, then laid down in his bed, curtains closed. But he didn’t sleep. 

He kept thinking about Sirius and how he just gave everything what they had away so easily. Sirius was furious with Snape, because of some stupid thing he said or did. He wanted to give Snape something to think about. Scare him a bit.

Remus shook his head. He knew Sirius was impulsive, but he’d never thought he would do something that stupid. But that’s how you can be mistaken in someone you trust.  

He heard the others entering the dorm quietly, trying not to wake him. 

He fell asleep shortly afterwards.

That’s how the next days and weeks went by. Sirius was already gone, when Remus got up. They didn’t meet until their first lesson. They didn’t talk, Remus didn’t even look at him. Sirius still gazed at him all the time, his pain becoming more visible every day. But Remus didn’t care. Sirius should suffer.

During lunch and dinner Remus stayed as far away from Sirius as possible. Remus talked  a lot with Lily and Mary about homework and classes. They knew something was terribly wrong, but didn’t ask him questions. Maybe James told them roughly what happened, at least a version of it. He really liked the girls and they did a good job at distracting him from this whole mess. 

Most of his free time Remus spent in the library, learning for his exams or doing his homework. He tried to occupy his mind as much as possible, so he didn’t have the time to think. Otherwise he would just start to think about Sirius, how he missed his laughs, his jokes, his touches, their late night conversations. And how things are never going to be the same again. And then his thoughts would just end up in a loop and he wouldn’t get any of his work done. And feel truly depressed.

Additionally he was really sorry for James. He knew James suffered a lot due to this situation. He wanted to be loyal to Remus, James was angry with Sirius too, but Sirius still was his best friend. And his best friend had a really hard time and also needed his help. So things were quite complicated between the marauders at the moment. 

At nights, Remus was lying in his bed, thinking about all the things he denied himself to think about during daytime, the things that went all wrong. So unsurprisingly, he didn’t get much sleep, his thoughts kept him awake almost every night.

Remus was sitting in the library on a Saturday evening, working on his Transfiguration essay, when James sat down next to him.

“Hey.” he said, sounding concerned.

“What’s up?” Remus asked, putting his feather quill  away.

James was chewing on his lip, before he said: “I know, it’s not your problem and I have no right to ask you that, but… I don’t know where Sirius is. He wasn’t at breakfast, lunch or dinner today. The last time I saw him was yesterday, before we went to bed. He took the cloak and the map with him… Do you have any idea where he might be?”

Remus looked at James' worried face, then sighed.

“I have an idea. I’ll check that for you, okay?”

“Thank you, Moony. Thank you.” James sounded relieved already.

Remus smiled a little, stood up and put his books and his quill back into his bag.

“I tell him to go to talk to you.”

Then he left the library. 

Remus went to the lake. He and Sirius had spent a lot of summer days here, in the shadow of a large tree. Those were very joyful days, days he tried not to think about right now.

When he came closer to that tree, he could hear someone's heartbeat, but the place was supposedly empty. He sat down, next to where Sirius had to be.

“I know, you’re there Sirius.” Remus said, looking at the water. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sirius appear out of thin air. Remus kept looking at the water, while Sirius looked at him.

“Stop being such a dick. James is worried, you’re not fair to him.” Remus said, looking at Sirius finally. 

He could see him swallow hard. His face was pale, the struggle of the last weeks clearly written all over his face. The look on his face broke Remus’ heart just a bit more, if that was even possible. Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but Remus held his hand up to stop him.

“Whatever you have to say, I still don’t want to hear it. I’m here, because James asked me to look for you. I’m not here because I want to talk to you. Go back and talk to James. Soon.” Remus stood up and left, he didn’t turn around for another look at Sirius. He had to take some deep breaths, that was harder than he’d thought it would be. He still loved him, after all.

He went into the Common room, where James was waiting.

“I found him. Told him to talk to you.” Remus said.

“Thank you, Remus.”

Remus just nodded and went straight to bed after that.

The next day, when he entered the dorm after dinner, there was a piece of parchment lying on his bed. He opened it and it showed Sirius neat and flawless handwriting. It said:

Dear Remus,

I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I beg you to read my letter. Please read what I have to say to you.

I am so incredibly sorry for what I did. You were right. I didn’t think about the consequences this might have. I should have just ignored what Snape said, like you told me so often to do. I know that now. I knew I made a mistake the moment I told him to go to the Shack. There was just no way to unsay what I said. So I went straight to James and told him what I’ve done. He ran off at once and saved Snape. James always knows what to do, you know how he is. He had to save my ass way too many times. 

But what I did there was the biggest mistake I ever made. And I will forever regret it. There’s no way to tell you how sorry I am, Moony. I really am.

You’re not talking to me, you’re not even looking at me and it’s killing me. Every day. And I deserve it. Every time I hear your voice my heart breaks, because I know there is no way you’re ever talking to me again. Not because you want to talk to me, just when someone makes you talk to me. 

I miss you. I miss us. I miss everything we had. And I hate myself for destroying everything, just because of my stupid pride. 

I have no right to ask you for forgiveness, so I’m not asking for it. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not hoping for it. And I try to make it up to you, I know I can’t, but I try anyway. Every day for the rest of my life.

You’re the best person I know, Remus. You’re so loving, full of life, smart, funny, sarcastic (which is really sexy by the way) and you’re the most caring person I know. And you’re beautiful, Moony, just so damn beautiful. You’re gorgeous. 

You’re the best thing I ever had in my life and I don’t know how I earned your trust in the first place. 

I know you regret trusting me now. But I’ll do my best to show you that you can trust me. Something like that will never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, I know. But I can’t undo it, so I have to show you how sorry I am. I’ll never stop trying.

I know I’m fighting against windmills here, because there just is no way you’re ever going to forgive me and that’s alright. I don’t deserve it any better. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I were you. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did. 

This letter is a bit chaotic, because there’s so much I want to say and I just don’t know how. You’re the one who’s good with words, that’s another thing I love about you. You just always know how to express what you’re feeling, I wish I could do that right now. 

I love you, Moony. I will love you forever, nothing’s going to change that. Nothing.

Once again, I’m so sorry for what I did. 

Love, 

Sirius

Remus swallowed hard after he read the letter for the first time. His head was spinning. He could see Sirius in his mind, bend over his desk, his feather quill in his hand, writing this letter. He could see him, chewing on his bottom lip while thinking about his phrasing, then write it down anyway.

Remus had to take some deep breaths to calm himself a little. He missed Sirius deeply. There’s no way to deny that. But he’s just so disappointed, he’s hurt. 

Remus sat down on his bed, the letter still in his hand. He read it three more times, feeling more dissolved every time.

He looked up as the door to their dorm opened and Sirius stepped in. He stopped in the door, seeing Remus with his letter in his hand. Remus swallowed hard and saw Sirius doing the same. They looked at each other, the tension rising in the room.

Remus crawled into his bed, closing his curtains around it, the letter still clutched in his hand. He wasn’t ready for this encounter right now. He heard Sirius leaving the room without a word.

Remus was sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast. Sirius was sitting across from him. It’s been a week since Remus read the letter. Sirius showed up for the breakfasts since then.

“James, would you please hand me the butter?” Sirius asked.

Remus pushed the butter a bit further in Sirius' direction. He looked up at Sirius, to see a small glint in his eyes, a smile playing around his lips.

“Thanks, Moony” he said quietly.

Remus nodded, then looked back on his plate.

It was just a small gesture, but Sirius kept smiling the whole day. Maybe things are going to be okay, someday.

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter X

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I’m sorry for the delay! Thank you so much for your patience and support! I’m here with the new chapter! I jope you will enjoy.

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter V) (Chapter VI) (Chapter VII)(Chapter VIII)(Chapter IX) (Chapter XI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 652

TW: Mentions of Hospital ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The swings.

(Y/n) loved swings. So charming and amusing.

Even if they couldn't play like the other children, they could always go to the swings. Waving forward and then backward. Heights frightened them and even now terrified them. But with the swings, it was not like that. They felt brave and free. They had visited many. However, they remembered one in particular: the one that his grandfather gave them. The one in the garden of the house where they grew. When they swung, they could see the clouds and the sky. Knowing that their family saw the same azure as they did. They remembered the wildflowers that flourished at the end of the tubes that held it. They had quite a few memories of that swing. That also took place in that location. Their mami's face of horror at seeing them on the ground coughing blood tormented them for a while.

They were back in the hospital. They knew that they would return.  The lonely hours where no visits were allowed seemed long, even reading.

The moments when they were able to be with their grandparents were joyous. Perpetually trying to smile so they wouldn't worry about them.

"(Y/n)!"- a voice cried their name.

They lifted as fast as they could, responding as well as the tubes in their throats allowed.

"Julian!"- They felt so relieved to see him. Each night they spent awake, believing that they would never see him again. The boy, despite being simply 2 years older, was much taller than them. He ran to them sobbing and held them as if they were going to vaporize.

Because that's what they believed.

"(Y/n)!"-he sobbed their name again-"I'm so sorry; I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone that day. Not because you can't play ball with me, I want you to leave me."-his grip tightened.

They were weak, and their arms were shaking. Yet, that did not prevent them from returning the hug with all the strength that their small body had.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I'm not upset right now."- they consoled. 

If they were in his village, the two of them would look more like animals. Julian's tail would surely shake restlessly, and (Y/n) would rub their cheeks into him. They would be cat and dog, but they loved each other so much. Regularly playing clapping games, going for walks, reading together, or playing video games together. It's not like (Y/n) had someone else. From an early age, they had had difficulties relating to other cubs, including adults. 

"Julian, watch out for running! They are going to scold us!"- a sweet voice called. Immediately two elders entered, their hands full of bags and gifts.

"Mami, Papi! Hi!"-they greeted, already smiling.

It was an afternoon full of laughter, cake, sweets, and gifts. They played cards and chess - matches (Y/n) won- watched movies, read new books, and hugged stuffed animals. Except it was not (Y/n)'s birthday. 

Only visiting hours end sooner or later. And their company had to withdraw. The only difference was that the man stayed a while longer. Opposing hospital rules, which, as a doctor, he had never done previously. (Y/n) stared at him for a moment, not delivering eye contact, until they looked up.

"Papi, I'm going to die?"-they were looking directly in his eyes, searching for a response. 

They had a particular method of expressing their feelings, but that didn't mean they did not feel-they possibly felt with more intensity than the majority. Most would expect a kid their age to cry in that situation, but they did not cry. They were smiling.

"(Y/n)..."-the old man whispered and sat near them. He hadn't the courage to say it.

"I can't tell you that. However, if I can tell you one thing."-he took out a small case from the pocket of his trousers. He held their hand and placed the present in their palm-"Whatever happens, I'll be with you. Wherever you go, you will not be alone. And if so, you have nothing to fear."

When they parted the lid of the box, in its inside covered in red velvet, laid a pair of earrings. They were drop-shaped pearl pendants. A peculiar gift for a kid their age. Most would give jewelry like this to someone older.

"My grandfather gave them to my mother, she gave them to me, and today I give them to you."-he continued-"When you have them on, I will accompany you wherever you go. Since our auras live in flowers, a part of mine lives in those earrings. I'll be reminding you who you are and where you come from. So don't forget that you have a home to go to. Don't be afraid (Y/n)..."

The room's door was locked, and the curtains were down. The old man did not own the same appearance as moments ago; he resembled a massive wolf. Intense but soft fur and a spot on the right ear. He knelt to be at the child's height. They looked into each other's eyes, which some say are the door to the soul, for a long time. Without vociferating a word.

"I love you (Y/n)."-he wept, holding his tears.

The mentioned one offered him a smile.

"I love you, Papi."-they mumbled. They leaned forward to hug him, taking the opportunity to snuggle in the older's neck fluff.-"But I am not afraid. Not at all."

The man hugged them back. His paws were so big that they would definitely fit them into just one of them.

After that, he left, promising that they would return the next day.

What they told was a lie, they were afraid. They sobbed enormously that night, except they didn't want their family to see them that way. 

~

Kurapika opened one of his drowsy eyes, not feeling the embrace anymore. For a moment he was scared of being alone, that it was all a dream. Though (Y/n) was right next to him. Sitting on the mattress, their backs on the bed frame. They were not sleeping, just staring at the emptiness.

"(Y/n)?"-he groaned, the voice hoarse from sleep.

The appointed blink, as if dispersing the spirits that had them trapped.

They turned their heads to detect where the voice was originating from.

"Kurapika?"-they whispered, the speech clear.-"My apologies, did I wake you?"

"No. Rather, what are you doing awake?"-he was already awaiting the worst.

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Don't trouble yourself,  please."-they quietly answers with a smile. 

How could they request him not worry for them? You can't stop caring about what you love. 

"What hour is it?"- he inquired, a bit bothered about the fatigue they might receive in the morning. At least it was Sunday, meaning neither of them had to labor. They would have the possibility of recovering hours of rest if they required it.

After a few seconds of silence, they answered-"4:37."

Kurapika knew the hard nights when attaining rest in a lonely bed seemed tedious. The difference is that they were not abandoned.  He was there for them and wasn't intending on leaving anywhere anytime shortly.

At least they hadn't had a nightmare, if so they would have told him so, right?

He lifted the blankets as a symbol for them to lie down next to him over. He didn't know if they would. Simply with them reclined anew, he would be satisfied. They paid obeisance to him, approaching and lying down nearby him. They came face to face. Kurapika enveloped his arm over their body, they did not hug him back. Yet, they pressed their forehead on his chest.

~

The morning was peaceful and pleasant. Kurapika and (Y/n) were sipping coffee and eating leftover cake from the night earlier in the salon. A disk was playing on the record player. The melody was smooth, the saxophone and the lyrics combined quite well. The silence among the two was charming. From time to time, they were silent, in the same room, just savoring the existence of the separate person. Not because they had nothing to tell. Rather, it was a matter of having their own spaces without isolating themselves.

Except, the silence always finished up breaking.

"I suggest we watch a film tonight. Today you can choose it if you'd like."- Kurapika enunciated, happy to spend quiet time with his lover. Having relaxing nights was rare.

"I...I deem the most convenient thing is for you to come home."-they hesitated, to resume right away-"Not that I don't want to be with you. I'm pretty occupied tonight, and I don't wish for you to miss a night of rest."

The answer surprised him at first.

"Are you going to cover someone in the unit anew?"-he questioned fully of irritant. They were profiteers with (Y/n). His companions rested on their professional integrity and goodness. Kurapika got tired of seeing his lover could stay awake nights in a row to cover night shifts or take care of delegated documents. He knew they would not leave a patient to their own fate; although he foresaw to have a discussion concerning it with them.

"No, not this time."-(Y/n) disclosed. If it was simple paperwork, they did it often with him, as long as he did not interrupt them.

"What will you do?"-he scoffed this time, no commitment had been mentioned to him. Although they had a poor mania to omit some points, not maliciously; globally they were details. That was not a detail.

They resembled uncomfortable. Kurapika already recognized their body language, and despite their perpetual smile, he could read them.

Their gaze was downcast, shoulders hunched, and they played with the edges of their sweater sleeves.

"I'm going to reclaim someone from my clan..."-they wept after a moment of the uncertain reserve.

From the beginning, (Y/n) had helped him regain scarlet eyes. Getting information and accompanying him. Nonetheless, they hadn't mentioned anything about getting their clan back. No contact, no remains, no meeting. Until today. Why? They were trying to preserve him? Did they want to avoid him at a distressing moment? Kurapika believed that retaining such secrets had ended since their discussion. That stubborn part of them that dedicated obstinately to secrecy frustrated him.

"(Y/n)."-he scolded once more.

They narrowed more as if craving to hide from his gaze. He wasn't mad at them. But it frustrated him that he was powerless to help them.

"(Y/n), I'm not angry."-his tone softened-"I desire to accompany you."

Their posture decompressed, though they started to fidget more.

"It will be a rather longspun night. It will be tiresome."-they maintained.

"I do not tend."- He would stand firm with this.-"I am here to assist you."

They suspired-"Thank you, Kurapika."-They had communication difficulties to solve, and weren't oblivious. 

"What time will it occur, where and with whom?"-he hinted, making sure to know the circumstances.

"The event will be held with a private collector. At his residence at 8:40 pm."-they specified-"Only that there is a relevant detail."-they added with a cautioned voice.-"The collector is another hunter."

The collector is another hunter. Not for lack of ability, but for the votes that restrained their children. It would be necessary to rely upon the strategy to evade some violent confrontation. On top of that, their identities could be in check.

"As it is clearly practically impossible to hide the fact that I am a hunter, I presented myself as a mere fellow hunter fond of oddities."-as suspected they already had a method.

"Regarding your company, we can pivot on my weak appearance."-they continued with the strategy-" He will never believe that a hunter would require a bodyguard, but an assistant is plausible. He told me that the "merchandise"- saying that last word with disgust-"will be weighty."

"I perceive that you had the strategy ready. That's why I don't worry. I'll stick with it."-regarding the tactical abilities of (Y/n), Kurapika did not waver. Their experience was remarkable.-"Still, you must tell me these genera of things."

"Reasonable, my apologies."-they bawled. 

Kurapika wasn't going to reprimand them. He was aware that they were not doing it maliciously, the communication obstacles were rather difficulties. He could never get mad at them for having some kind of challenge. 

~

The place concluded up being in an upper-class suburb of YorkNew. For the other hunter to live there, it had to be wealthy. And to be wealthy he had to be skillful. For this occasion, (Y/n) did not use its own vehicle. They rented a truck with a roomy hood. Once the house was spotted, they parked the truck far enough away for the details not to be well distinguished -being black it was conveniently camouflaged with the darkness of the night-but close sufficient to get there quick running. 

Before going down, (Y/n) was silent for a short moment. Without moving from the driver's seat. Their pupils would look very dilated if it weren't for the contacts they were wearing. They both wore, so as not to give any kind of clue about their origins. Followed by that silence, they closed their eyes and pronounced a rhyme while poking their chests with two fingers, in a language that Kurapika did not understand. A mantra for good luck, perhaps.

There was no security of any kind seen from the facade. They walked to the front door, which was quite high and made of black wood. Shortly after the bell rang, the door opened. Revealing a man, about 31 years old, but he looked younger. It couldn't be said that he had good taste in dressing, but the clothes they wore were of great quality. His hair was somewhat lengthy yet shorter than Kurapika's and ash-black in color. His aura felt dense and heavy. It was easily deduced that he had no intention of hiding it.

The man, like his aura, was imposing. He made them notice it as if testing their courage and challenging them to enter. Almost as if they were unworthy. 

"I presume you are (Y/n)."-he said, waiting. His voice was considerably gruff. The kind of speech that tilts in your eardrums.

"Precisely, a pleasure."-(Y/n) greeted, pulling their hunter license out of their wallet and showing it.

"Good, and he?"-the man pointed at Kurapika.

"Kurapika is here to assist me. I remember listening to you specify that the object was going to be substantial."-they reported hurriedly. Their tone of speech did not denote fear or insecurity. They weren't happy with the rudeness of pointing their lover

"I see. To be a hunter you look frail."-he expressed-"Come in, come in." The walls of the house were wide and the ceiling high. The interior was mostly light gray. The decor had a pretentious modernist tendency. A large number of objects stood out. Of all kinds, but all rare and peculiar. Shelves placed well in sight, figures, frames, vanities. They followed the man through corridors to a small bar, its wall full of bizarre exoticisms.

 If it weren't for the assiduousness they were displayed in, one would say that the person was an accumulator. The idea that the person had become a hunter just to gain privileges and the ability to purchase ostentatious exclusive treasures was more and more evident.

"Let's sit down and have a drink."-the man bossed. 

"Oh, don't bother. We-"-they got interrupted by the man. It was clear he was vulgar despite his money. 

"I don't bother. I want to make sure that I'm not selling one of my prized items to anyone."

[sneezyminniejo]

Hey, i have a request. Maybe a faking sick minho then the members found out. Later he developed allergies but the others don't believe him anymore. thank you, i love reading your fics :>>

Here it is

Crying Wolf is a Bad Idea

Minho liked getting time off whenever he could. To achieve this, he would semi frequently fake sick for like two days. He would fake a fever by putting the thermometer in hot tea for a few seconds and fake cough and sneeze to tie everything together. He made sure not to do it too often, just like once every two months or so. The members already knew that he gets sick a lot and that it never lasts too long (although that’s just what he wanted them to think).

Today was one such day that he felt like taking a day or two to relax. When he woke up he made sure to cough a little harshly.  As he entered the kitchen he doubled over with a couple of harsh sneezes. “Heh-ishh, Hih-ashhh” he then coughed into his fist a couple more times. Chan just gave Minho a look before sighing and grabbing the thermometer and a mug of tea. “Again Minho? How do you manage to get sick so frequently? You really do have a crap immune system.” Chan put the thermometer in Minho’s mouth and gave him the mug of tea before turning to resume making breakfast.

Minho did as he usually did, and put the thermometer in the tea shortly after Chan turned his back. What he didn’t count on, however, was Seungmin rounding the corner and entering the kitchen while he was doing it. Seungmin watched him in silence to see where things were going (he also sneakily took a photo with his phone just in case). He saw Minho put the thermometer back in his mouth, and when it beeped Chan turned around to check what it was. “101.2. You have a fever Minho. You’re staying in bed today.” 

At that Seungmin snorted. “If anyone is staying home sick, it’s Minho’s tea. He’s faking. I saw put the thermometer in the tea so it would read him as having a fever.” Minho aspirated some tea and coughed at that. It took him a moment to recover. “That preposterous Seungmin. Minho has no reason to fake being sick, and he’s been coughing and sneezing all morning.” Chan responded with a glare. “Seungmin just showed Chan the photo he had taken a few moments before and said, “see here’s evidence and if you still don’t believe me take his temperature again, but don’t turn your back this time.” Chan sighed and stuck the thermometer bak in Minho’s mouth and stared at him with anger rising in his eyes. After a moment the thermometer beeped again, and Chan looked at it. “98.4. Okay Minho, What gives? You’re clearly not sick since you don’t have a fever. Why would you fake being sick. Come to think of it all the other times you’ve been sick, you’ve always had a fever in the 100-101 range. How often do you fake being sick?”

Minho curled in on himself sheepishly before responding “I just wanted a day or two to myself to relax and I do this once every couple of months.” Minho looked at his lap guiltily only because he had been caught. Chan stared at him astonished, while the rest of the group came into the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about.  “You mean to tell me that all the times you’ve been sick in the past you were faking just so you could have a day off. Unbelievable!” The other member stared wide eyed as they heard what Chan had said. “You will be attending schedules today, and you will be on dish and trash duty for the next month. It isn’t okay to lie about something like that. I could understand faking once in a blue moon, but once every couple of months is extreme.” With that Chan left the dorm to get started with his day. It was tense in the dorm for the next week due to what had happened. Chan eventually forgave Minho, because he could see where he was coming from.

A couple months after the outburst had occurred things had returned back to normal, and the members of Stray Kids were getting ready to film the music video for Ex. Things were mostly okay for Minho that morning, but his nose was insanely itchy and he didn’t know why. He walked into the kitchen while attempting to rid the itch by blowing his nose. The action did not pass by Chan who sighed and said sternly “Minho, we don’t have time for you to be faking sick again. You are going to the music video shoot today whether you like it or not.” Minho tried to respond but he was interrupted by his own sneezing. “Heh-shoo, Heh-ishhiew. I swear I’m not trying anything, my nose is just itchy this morning.” Seungmin chimed in next, “Yeah right, hyung. We know you’re just trying to delay your shoot today. Suck it up and quit with the faking.”

“Heh-ishh, Itschiew” Minho sneezed for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. He truly didn't know why he was sneezing so much and tried to tell everyone as much, but they all just assumed he was faking again, and they were getting very annoyed with his sneezing. “Hyung, cut it out already. We’re already two hours into the shoot. If we were going to fall for your ruse, we would have already. You’re not sick and we all know it, so stop trying to convince us otherwise.” Changbin huffed before storming off to film his part of the video.

When it was time for Minho to film his outdoor portion of the video things only got worse. He couldn’t seem to stop sneezing, and Chan had had enough. “SERIOUSLY MINHO. STOP IT WITH YOUR SHENANIGANS! ALL YOUR DOING IS HOLDING US BACK BY DELAYING THE SHOOT! GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER AND CUT IT OUT!” Everyone was flabbergasted at that outburst. None of the members had ever seen Chan that angry. Minho began to cry. Jisung went over to console and hug him, because he also would have cried if he had been yelled at like that. However, when he reached Minho a look of concern covered his face. “Chan-hyung, I don’t think he’s faking.” Chan just stared at Jisung with a look of pure confusion. “What do you mean you don’t think he’s faking?” Jisung motioned for Chan to come closer. “Listen to him he’s wheezing. You might be able to fake a lot of symptoms, but you can’t fake wheezing.” Suddenly Chan was overcome with guilt, and immediately pulled Minho into a hug. “I am so sorry I yelled at you like that. It was uncalled for, but knowing that you’ve been repeatedly faking sick I couldn’t trust you.” Minho nodded before responding. “I for-forg- he-ischiew, heh-tschiew, Heh-ishhoo, HEH-ISHHH. I forgive you.” he finally got out after the sneeze fit, then he ended up coughing. “Let’s get you inside to the medic to get you checked out.”

The medic took one quick look over Minho before telling them that the pollen count was quite high and that he appeared to be having an allergic reaction. He gave Minho an over the counter antihistamine and said if the symptoms improved in thirty minutes, it was allergies. Thirty minutes later, Minho’s symptoms did in fact improve and he was able to finish filming. Once they had all finished filming Felix decided to chime in on the massive elephant in the room that was Chan’s outburst from earlier. “Honestly Minho-hyung, if you hadn’t cried wolf so frequently, Chan-hyung would have believed you from the beginning and he never would have yelled at you.” Chan snickered at the comment, while everyone else had a confused expression. Jeongin piped up, “No one was crying about a wolf. What do wolves have to do with Chan-hyung being mad at Minho-hyung?” Felix and Chan both burst into laughter before explaining the English idiom and the story of the boy who cried wolf. Things were finally back to normal.

[chelsfic]

Chapter 9 - Inherited - Dracula/OFC - Dracula 2020 fanfic

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

Summary: Dracula has emotions and ruins everything.

A/N: Listennnn, it’s actually @dracula-s-bride​‘s fault for giving me the idea to ramp up the ANGST! Also, in case you’re interested (??!): I actually took the detail about Emilie being able to smell the time of day from science. Alexandra Horowitz, of the Barnard College Dog Cognition Lab, has conducted studies on canine olfaction and she theorizes that they can smell the passage of time (i.e. tell time by their snoots). She’s brilliant and fascinating and if you’re at all interested in dogs I highly recommend her books.

Dracula slept. His body lay on the ground, perfectly motionless and half-buried in the cold, sheltering dirt beneath the ruins of the Abbey’s old chapel. His pale face appeared carved from marble; his lips were stained a shocking red from the blood he’d gorged upon before going to his rest.

The butcher’s boy… the butcher... and a tinker he’d come upon on the road out of town. He’d been senseless and crazed in his need for blood. In his entire long life, Dracula had never felt Death’s pursuit so close at his heels as he had after offering himself to Emilie. He was afraid...and furious. 

The blood revived him but at the creeping sensation of dawn’s approach he grew weary again. He knew the thin layer of soil beneath his feather mattress would not do enough to restore him. And so he’d sought out the cold embrace of the earth beneath the abandoned chapel. In only a matter of hours he would be made well again. Then he would see Emilie… see her healthy and vibrant, her skin flushed and warm with the life he’d given...or had she taken it? Stolen it from him? Stolen...offered… His thoughts and emotions were tangled in confusion in the aftermath of the blood frenzy. His lips slowly curled back in an angry snarl. Emilie…

***

Emilie woke to a new world. She felt the brush of each individual thread in the sheets that covered her, her nostrils flared as she took in a banquet of scents: fresh coffee from the kitchen, grass, flowers, mold from the garden outside her window, the sweet, homely perfume of her mother’s personal scent. Somehow she could smell the time of day: the dry, still warmth of midday. 

When she opened her eyes she found her mother slumped over asleep in a rocking chair beside her bed. Emilie smiled faintly and reached out to take her hand. Mrs. Andrews came awake abruptly, looking about her in confusion for a moment before she recalled where she was.

She smiled down at her daughter and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, “How are you this morning, better?”

Emilie frowned trying to remember the details of everything that happened yesterday. She remembered feeling unwell...going to the Count’s bedroom...feeling desperately that she needed him but also fearing to wake his monstrous side. But she felt perfectly fine...better than fine now. 

“I’m...wonderful, Mama,” Emilie replied, sitting up against the pillows. “I feel wonderful. How do you come to be here? Did the Count send for you when I was ill?”

Emilie’s tone was doubtful. She’d never known Dracula to correspond with her family other than forwarding payments to them through his solicitor. Mrs. Andrews shook her head.

“I came up with the doctor. You don’t remember? You were quite unwell, we really feared the worst…” she trailed off and her eyes looked troubled. She squared her shoulders and resolved to prod for the truth, “Count Dracula was concerned. Very concerned for your health. I’ve never known him to be so solicitous towards his servants before, Emilie.”

Emilie’s cheeks blushed a deep shade of pink and she directed her gaze down at her hands clasped together in her lap, “He has been very kind, mama….Can I have some water, please?”

Mrs. Andrews got slowly to her feet and Emilie felt a flash of guilt. She shouldn’t have avoided her mother’s obvious curiosity, and she shouldn’t let her wait on her like this. Her mother had a weak disposition and staying up with her all night must have exhausted her. 

“No, mama, I’m sorry! Sit back down and I’ll get the water. I really do feel amazingly better.”

Mrs. Andrews sent her a grateful look as she took her seat again in the rocking chair. She watched Emilie spring from bed and pour two glasses of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. 

“You look amazingly well, child,” Mrs. Andrews remarked. “Do you remember what it was the Count did to cure you? When he asked me to leave the room you were still looking frightful but only moments later he stormed out and your fever had broken…”

Emilie froze for just a second as she handed a water glass to her mother and moved to sit back in bed.

“Why...I’m sorry, mama. My memories are all hazy. I was very feverish…”

Mrs. Andrews narrowed her eyes but let the subject drop. She nodded toward the small wardrobe in the corner and quirked her head inquisitively, “Where are all of your clothes, darling? Your wardrobe is nearly empty. Have you left them in the laundry room?”

Emilie choked on a swallow of water and spent a moment clearing her throat and vying for time to think. She knew her mother would always be able to read a lie on her face as soon as it was uttered. She supposed they were past the point of concealment.

“My clothes are in Count Dracula’s bedroom, mama,” she said with only the slightest tremor of nerves. To admit to sharing a bed with a man out of wedlock was bad enough. For that man to be her employer...and the dark creature who had held her family’s indenture for a century….Well, Emilie was worried about her mother’s response.

“Oh, Emilie...you...he...oh, dear,” Mrs. Andrews drew in a long breath and took a moment to compose her thoughts. “I cannot reprimand you, dear daughter. Not after asking you to set aside your fear and morality in order to carry on your family’s duty as you have done...But I must caution you, Emilie. Count Dracula is many things but when it comes down to it he is a man. A powerful man. Men of power may play with our lives, our affections as they wish. Please, be careful…”

Emilie reached over and placed her hand over her mother’s, “Mama, you don’t need to worry. Vlad--Count Dracula cares for me. I know he does.”

And she did know. For as she’d sat there listening to her mother’s worries she’d searched her mind trying to call up memories of last night. Suddenly her mouth flooded with the phantom taste, the rich pooling of his blood on her tongue and she remembered. She’d drunk from him again. This time he’d given her much, much more than usual. The taste was overwhelming. It was all cold, eastern skies, mournful wolf cries in the night and the cut of winter air on bare skin. But there was more: there was the reflection of warm candlelight glowing on her skin, her cheek dimpled in a smile and the soft, vulnerable feel of her body under his. He loved her. It was a fact that she knew in her bones just as she knew that the sun would rise and set each day. Count Dracula loved her. 

***

Dracula rose as the sun’s light extinguished below the horizon. He climbed out from the hastily dug grave and brushed the soil from his clothes. Sleeping in the earth had fully restored him after the near fatal drink last night. He crept out onto the lawn and made his way toward the house. 

When he entered he found Emilie and her mother in the dining room eating supper. He still smelled of rot and mold and his white shirt was stained and unkempt. He stepped forward, his every move radiating danger and took a seat beside Emilie and across from her mother.

“I’m glad to see you looking so...lively, Miss Emilie,” Dracula drawled, drumming his fingers on the table and eyeing his lover with a sharp gaze.

Emilie was caught off guard and unsure how to respond, “Count, thank you for taking care of me yesterday. I’m feeling much better today.”

She was wearing one of the gowns he’d purchased for her. Emerald green silk that clung to her curves without being overly revealing. His Emilie was adorably modest even after he’d so thoroughly debauched her.

“Taking care of you...certainly. Although it seems you were the one taking, darling. Don’t you think?”

She furrowed her brows at him and shook her head quizzically, “Are you well, Vl...Count?”

Dracula’s eyes swung from daughter to mother knowingly. Mrs. Andrews didn’t seem surprised to see her daughter supping at her master’s table rather than attending it. He realized Emilie must have taken her into her confidence. He felt...he did not know how to quantify the emotions swirling within him. He felt soaring joy to see her well and eating. It gave him satisfaction that he had been the means of her salvation. He should be her salvation, her master, her everything. But he was also unavoidably disturbed that he had allowed himself to become so weakened for her...by her. He had wanted a bride, a deathly wife, to serve him and belong to him forever. He had not intended for the bond between them to take this form. She possessed him now as much as he possessed her. Count Dracula was unaccustomed to being in anyone else’s power and he lashed out against the very thought. It sparked anger, fear and hostility in his blood. He felt the edges of his self flare over into monstrous intent.

“I am well, Emilie. I have recovered my strength as you see,” he turned to Mrs. Andrews. “Mrs. Andrews, I must ask you to leave now. It’s really not appropriate for my housekeeper to invite her family to sup at my table. I’m surprised at you, Emilie.”

Emilie flinched away from him as if his cruel behavior had landed a physical blow. Mrs. Andrews narrowed her eyes and replied coldly, “I believe there is some new arrangement being worked out here, Count Dracula. My daughter is your housekeeper no longer.”

Dracula’s lips widened into a leering smile as he asked in a tone of false confusion, “Well, then, if she is no longer my housekeeper whatever can I be paying her for? Emilie...what services have you been rendering me of late to earn your salary?”

Mrs. Andrews gasped furiously but before she could respond Emilie sprang from her seat and struck Count Dracula in the face. Her strength could never match his but the infusion of his blood had improved it and his head snapped to the side as her palm made contact with his cheek. Emilie stood over him, fists clenched in anger and breathing rapidly. It was done in the matter of a second and she stood there feeling fury and fear warring within her. She knew that Count Dracula was powerful and dangerous. She could admit to herself that she was drawn to that part of him. And her demeanor was so naturally sweet and obedient that to defy him sent a wave of panic through her. But in that moment she reacted as she thought she must. She might be submissive and adoring, but she was also her mother’s daughter and her grandmother’s granddaughter...and she was brave.

“How...dare you?” she demanded. “I have been nothing but pure kindness and devotion and you would insult me this way in front of my mother?”

Dracula sat motionless, his head tilted to the side from her slap. He locked eyes with Mrs. Andrews and growled, “Leave now, Mrs. Andrews.”

The woman balked, “Now, I don’t think--”

“Now!” he roared, leaping across the table and grabbing the woman by the collar, dragging her out of the room. Emilie ran after him uselessly, unable to keep up with his preternatural speed. He reached the front door and tossed the woman out onto the gravel drive, slamming the door shut and rounding on Emilie. 

“It’s my fault, really,” he mused, stalking toward her and shepherding her back into the dining room. “I see I’ve given you too much. Too much leniency, too much freedom, too much...blood.”

Emilie’s back came up against the wall and she watched him approach with eyes wide in fear. She held her hands, palms out as if to ward him away, “Vlad, you’re not well. You need to...to eat and then I think--”

“Are you offering?” he taunted, finally reaching her and caging her in his arms. His fangs elongated and his eyes began clouding over scarlet. 

Emilie’s eyes filled with tears and she cringed away from him as if hoping the wall would simply swallow her up, “No...Vlad.”

Her scent spiked with fear, souring the air between them. Dracula grimaced in distaste, the surprise brought him slightly out of his frenzy. Emilie was flinching away from him, her eyes scrunched shut and her mouth open in a sob of horror. And suddenly he was flashing back to the last time they’d been in bed together. The soft touch of her skin, the beauty of her surrender, her trust in him. The contrast with the current moment made him want to gag. He turned away from her, pacing to the other side of the dining table, putting distance between them. He stood there, holding his head in his hands, grasping for control. 

He could hear her crying behind him. And then her footsteps, hesitant at first and then more confident as she walked toward the front hallway. The door hardly made a sound as she closed it behind her.

Tags:

@charlesdances​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @dracula-s-bride​ @haleyea​ @irrelevantwriter​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @festering-queen​ @kaddis-world​ @leah-halliwell92​

[transanimegirl]

from chapter 8 ookami shounen

[roseoilmuse]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫

Summary: Ares Trevino finds out he’s going to be a father, and instead of being responsible, he decides to do everything in his power to forget his current reality, while also ruining his life in the process Characters: Ares Trevino, Aspen Spader, mentions of Eulalie LaVelle and Persephone Trevino, Joy Pepper) Setting: the Trevino mansion, Aspen Spader’s storage unit Word count: 1,583 Trigger warnings: mention of drug use (marijuana, cocaine, heroin), mention of selling of drug, mention of mental illness (bipolar, disassociation), mention of sexual activity

It is Saturday, June 27th.

An intimacy, attention starved Ares Trevino has just experienced his very first episode of disassociation. He has hardly even regained cognizance, a ringing starting to build in his ears, but he can faintly hear the cries of his girlfriend, followed by the soft coos of his sister. The fog of his mind was strong, but still his flight instincts told him that he had to leave. Now. As his astral body snapped back into the physical, he noticed a picture in his hand, but not just any picture, this was a sonogram. Scribbled on the back was Eulalie’s handwriting.

“I’m sorry”

The small pain of a headache had started, and reading the message only made the pain amplify. His flight sense was screaming, he needed to leave, so he did. His ear rang, louder than anything he’s ever heard before as he quickly grabbed his keys and wallet and bolted out the door. Still through the ringing he heard the faint cries, and soon heard angry footsteps. Persephone was pissed, he could feel her energy, which pushed him to practically gallop down the stairs. He didn’t say anything to anyone, just started booking it to his car, having a push to start so it was ready to go before he even stepped foot in. The only trace of Ares was the sonogram, with Eulalie’s handwriting, sitting on the floor of the sitting area of his room.

He drove aimlessly, his goal was to get as far from home as possible, as far from whatever reality his mind decided to separate itself from. The engine roared angrily as he bobbed and weaved in the afternoon traffic, cutting people off, and gunning the engine at yellow lights to barely make it. The ringing in his ears had subsided, but the slight numbness from the heavy episode of disassociation felt like weights. He was halfway through a joint and felt nothing. He remembered he had bought an eightball of coke and left it in his glove compartment, so he went for that, just spilling some onto the webbing on his left hand and snorted it. Nothing. 

More. 

Snort. 

Nothing.

Nothing. Nothing. He felt nothing, his whole face was numb and the drip was making it practically impossible for him to even take a full breath in. He needed something better.

“Maybe it’s cut?” He asks himself out loud, though he knew it was a lie, the guy he went through, Aspen Spader, hands down, has the best drugs money can buy, and that’s who he needed to see. Luckily he was always a phone call away.

Aspen knew what it meant to see the name Ares Trevino flash on his phone screen and In a matter of minutes, Aspen set up a rendezvous spot for them to meet. It was a storage unit, as per usual, that Aspen had set up for moving his bigger weight. Being that Ares was already a loyal customer, he trusted Ares enough to directly come to the source, to a certain extent. So there Ares finds himself pulling up to the outdoor unit, and Aspen motioning him to quickly come in. He’d been there once or twice, Ares knew, don’t touch anything unless asked to.

It seemed Aspen was just having a chill day, the plumes of marijuana and tobacco hung in the air. Aspen explained to Ares this was something he considered an after hours journey, but still he figured they could chill for a bit and get a little fucked up.

He watched anxiously as Aspen laid all the little pills, and powders, flower and oil, carefully setting them in parchment, or filling up various sized baggies, weighing them, and reweighing them whilst also passing Ares a joint, or a blunt, or whatever else they were getting into. Aspen could feel his anxiety. Ares could feel Aspen feel his own anxiety, and though, by choice, Aspen never delved too much into either of their personal lives, he almost felt like he should.

“You okay, dude?” Aspen raised a brow over to Ares, his tone wasn’t nearly as serious as the loaded question, even his expression was light, but Aspen knew he needed to get something off his chest.

“Huh?” Ares was still in a bit of a haze, and while the drug didn’t help, he knew it was more than just that, “oh yeah, just thinking, ya know.”

“Yeah, I can tell dude, you’re far up in your own head today,” Aspen ashed the joint, and placed it back in between his lips, “yah wanna talk about it or are you going to mope all night?”

Aspen’s words stung Ares a bit, only enough to respond sternly, “no, I just don’t even want to think, so unless you have something that will take away this shit then yeah, I actually may just mope.”

A pause, Aspen let out a chortle, handing Ares the joint, and looked as if he was weighing not only his drugs, but a suggestion. The blonde haired man visibly came to a conclusion, setting things down in front of him and moving to a rolling tool box. He dug around for a moment before pulling out a white baggy. The glint in his blue eyes made Ares feel almost hopeful for a solution. The bag soared through the air as it was tossed from one side to the other, Ares luckily catching it, knowing that whatever it was, it had to have a bigger value than most.

Ares stared at it long and hard, feeling as if he stared any longer he might burn a hole straight through it. Cocaine? He thought to himself, pushing his shaggy dyed, black hair out of his face, I already did this today and it didn’t help. His disappointment was palpable, though he continued to stare because he wasn’t one to turn down free drugs.

“Heroin,” Aspen told him, crossing the room back to the table of various drugs, hardly making eye contact, acting far too cool for what he just tossed the younger boy.

“Heroin,” Ares echoed, holding it up to the light. He could tell them it wasn’t cocaine. It looked more powdery, even more… tempting.

“Only if you want to try it,” Aspen again spoke with such calm demeanor it was almost unsettling to Ares.

He questioned his next move hard, though in real time it was a matter of seconds. There were always cautionary tales about heroin, but then again there were cautionary tales about every single thing he ever ingested, ranging from marijuana to even sugary sodas. What harm could it really cause?

His curiosity got the best of him, and before he knew it Aspen was making two little lines for the both of them. It shocked him how little one was, while the other was bigger, it wasn’t even significant. Aspen snorted the bigger line up, and immediately his eyes glossed over, the blues turning practically fluorescent. They were beautiful, even Ares could admit that, to himself though, not out loud.This made his curiosity peak even more. So he leaned in, and sniffed the table.

There was an instant rush. All the hairs on his body stood at a point. The warmth, the relief, the absolute bliss…. No.

The 𝕖𝕦𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕒.

Ḩ̸̩̰͍͕̣͓͉̕E̷͖͈̋̉̐A̶͓̲̜̭̩͖̮͍̔͛̽͊͘V̴̙̻͕̠̲̹̦̠̜͖̅E̸̢̢̡͍͎̩̣̘̿̽̑̅̈̓̕N̵̛͚͋

It is Thursday, or Friday… Maybe Saturday?

He couldn’t remember, all he could process through the heroin haze was the heat. A July kind of hot… or maybe it was an August kind of hot. Whatever time of the year it was, his world was his own. Right now his main domicile was his expensive sports car. He was splayed out in the reclined drivers seat. The light beamed through the heavy smoke as he hotboxed his car, slowly smoking his joint. What little light came through kept his almost fully closed eyes from shutting. Ares had no idea where he was physically, but his body swam through the euphoria of his new true love.

White China heroin.

It is Tuesday, September 1st.

A girl by the name of Joy seems just as desperate for human affection as Ares is. He was thankful for that. She didn’t even seem to notice how strung out he was, driving to his house. Sneaking her in was no problem. Ares went in first, greeted his mother, grabbed a water-- two, he claimed to be thirsty. Oh he was.

Opened his window.

Crawled out.

And brought her inside. Even in the car when he picked her up, he wanted him. He never understood this. She was actually really nice, beautiful, and seemed nervous so what was Red Riding Hood doing shedding her robe for the Big Bad Wolf?

Shed she did, and Ares realized the heroin made him more carnal than ever. Joy was elated. And after September 1st,

The whole month of September he spent in bed with Joy, alternating smoking and snorting heroin. He smoked in his room all day, even the air purifier couldn’t clear the smell completely. He only left his room for Door Dash, or Uber Eats, or whatever food delivery system that made it so he could never leave. He laid in bed, with Joy, buying her whatever she wanted, and pretending to listen about her fucked up family and her fucked up life. He could have cared, but the heroin made him so detached from reality, there was no such thing as care.

Only 𝕖𝕦𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕒.

Only Joy.

Only heroin.

Only,

Ḩ̸̩̰͍͕̣͓͉̕E̷͖͈̋̉̐A̶͓̲̜̭̩͖̮͍̔͛̽͊͘V̴̙̻͕̠̲̹̦̠̜͖̅E̸̢̢̡͍͎̩̣̘̿̽̑̅̈̓̕N̵̛͚͋

[immoren]

That’s heart attack, buddy. 

[antithetical-mess]

[onthesandsofdreams]

A Love that bloomed from hope

Fandom: ASoIaF Pairing: Rickard x Rhaella Rating: T Summary: Rhaella wishes nothing more than to escape her prison.

Aerys, Duke of Dragonstone, her older brother and head of her house has her in almost complete isolation. She wishes she had someone who could help her. Someone who could take her away, but Aerys has refused several noble men her hand, without any consideration of her wants.

Aerys is cruel, lives in bitterness since the woman he loved married someone else, and as such, he feels the need to make her own life miserable. And she is running out of hope. There’s no one to champion her.

That is, until King Edwyle throws a party in welcome for some foreign Princess. Words: 2030 Notes: For @asoiafrarepairs‘s ‘A Dream of Spring’ event. Day 3 hope | sun. Alternative Universe - Royalty/Nobility, Role reversal.

Read @ AO3

Rhaella wishes nothing more than to escape her prison.

Aerys, Duke of Dragonstone and head of her house has her in almost complete isolation. She wishes she had someone who could help her. Someone who could take her away, but Aerys has refused several noble men her hand, without any consideration of her wants.

Aerys is cruel, lives in bitterness since the woman he loved married someone else, and as such, he feels the need to make her own life miserable. And she is running out of hope. There’s no one to champion her.

That is, until King Edwyle throws a party in welcome for some foreign Princess.

Aerys and Rhaella attend as it’s their duty. Aery’s grip is firm on her arm, firm enough that she knows that she will find bruises later on. But she’s wearing her best dress and jewels that match her eyes, and even if it’s for a night, she can have a dance or two.

 She dances with other noble lords, some men of the army and lastly - much to her surprise - Prince Rickard. The King’s only child is kind, there is a portly elegance to him, his eyes are clear and empty of the anger she’s used to seeing in the eyes of her brother. Also free of the desire that some of the men who have tried to court her, some, she knows only did so because she’s Aerys’ heir.

“You look sad, Lady Targaryen,” The Prince says while they dance. “Is the dance not to your liking?”

She blushes fiercely. “No my Prince, I promise. I am not sad.” She gives him the best smile that she can, one that she hopes it’s reassuring.

But the Prince’s look is one of doubt. “Forgive me for speaking boldly my Lady, but your eyes speak louder than your words. I must ask, is everything alright?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, she had not expected for Prince Rickard to be this perceptive. ‘Wolf’s eyes’, she thinks. “I - I am well my Prince. There is no need for you to worry.”

“Mmmh,” Prince Rickard replies. “I only have one question, if I may be so bold?”

“Yes, my Prince?”

“Why is it that one of our most exalted Ladies remains unwed? I have known of men who asked for your hand, and yet, here you are, unwed, much like Lord Targaryen.”

She’s unsure of what to say. Tries to think of a convincing lie, but nothing comes to mind. Fortunately, the dance comes to an end, saving her from having to answer the question. Prince Rickard nods at her, she bows in turn and hurries back to a sitting area.

She doesn’t dance nor speak to the Prince after that. That night, she dreams of herself leading a pack of wolves through the snow. It’s strange and wonderful, and above all else, it’s freeing.

A week later, she receives the shock of her life. For she finds that King Edwyle has written to Aerys, for he declares that Prince Rickard wishes to court her. Aerys is wroth, yells and curses and she feels a knot in her throat. But she also feels the little flame of hope shine a bit brighter. For she knows that Aerys will not have a good excuse to deny the King. She takes to avoiding Aerys as much as she can in their manor.

****

Her courtship with Rickard starts slowly. She finds that the Prince is very sharp eyed, very wolfish in nature, and she can’t help but to think that beneath the veneer of diplomatic politeness, hides a predator. She shivers at the thought, but she finds herself drawn in.

Prince Rickard is clever, has ambitions for the Kingdom that, if they pay off, they could propel it forward. He is kind, surprisingly gentle and very tender. Writes her the loveliest poems that she hides in a secret compartment in her doll cradle. Takes her to the theater, gives her books - both fictional of nature and relevant affairs. Talks to her, listens to what she has to say, in turn, he talks to her and he allows her to know him a little. She has dinner with the King and the Queen, who welcome her like a beloved daughter. And the flame of her hope burns brighter.

 Prince Rickard makes her feel safe and protected. 

“Never lose hope, Rhaella,” Rickard - as he insists she call him in private - says. “Monsters may seem impossible to escape, but then, one day, they are defeated.”

“Of course,” she answers, ponders just how much Rickard suspects Aerys' poor treatment of her. She never speaks of his cruelty, it would be terrible to do so when simply courting. One day she might tell him everything, but not yet. At least not while she must still return to Dragonstone. And Prince or not, it would not do to have Rickard have a go at Aerys. Aerys would lose that match rather quickly and easily, for Rickard’s broader and stronger than Aerys is.

“Have faith, Rhaella, have faith.” Rickard says and gently kisses her hand. His eyes are full of love. 

And her heart leaps in her chest, full of hope and full of dreams. 

In the end, when the Prince asks for her hand in marriage, Aerys can only grit his teeth and agree. Rickard’s smile is sharp and his eyes are hard as he stares at Aerys without an ounce of fear. The smile of a man who knows he’s won. She can’t help but to relish in Aerys’ ill concealed fury.

*****

Their wedding is a grand affair, as befits for the heir to the throne. She has the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting attending to her, making sure that everything is perfect. She is dressed in a diaphanous gown of pale lavender, it’s something of a dream; it brings out a rosy color to her skin and cheeks. Her hair is placed in an elegant bun, with diamond and amethyst pins woven into it. She wears rose oil as perfume, and places her late mother’s jewels on her, a diamond and amethyst parure that goes well with her gown.

Queen Marna comes, gives her a look of approval. “You look absolutely heavenly, dear Rhaella. Rickard will hardly take his eyes off you.”

She blushes. “Thank you, my Queen.”

Marna smiles gently, caresses her cheek with tenderness. “There is no need to thank me, you will be my daughter in an hour or so. So it would please me greatly if you were to call me mother.”

She smiles, her mind set at ease by Queen Marna’s words. “I will, mother.”

Queen Marna beams at her. “I will leave you now, I will see you in the Godswood my dear.”

*****

Aerys doesn’t speak to her when he escorts her to her wedding. She can feel his arm being tense, the veins in his neck stand out, his eyes are hard and unforgiving. She resists the urge to flinch away from him. She will soon be free of him.

She walks to the Heart Tree with her head held high, a smile on her face as she looks at Rickard. He looks so handsome in a deep charcoal and white uniform. She never takes her eyes off him, nor he of hers.

They recite their vows, they kiss. And she finds that she likes Rickard’s - her husband’s, her mind supplies - lips. They are firm and demanding, yet there is a softness to them. People cheer them on, they cheer her name as Rickard places the traditional crown on her head, declaring her his Princess and future Queen.

They feast and she finds herself beaming with joy. Until she looks at Aerys. His face is frozen with fury, instinct makes her move closer to Rickard. He notices.

“Are you scared?” He asks, whispering in her ear. “Don’t be. From today onwards, I’ll always protect you.”

She believes him. She’s finally free of Aerys.

*****

She feels like she is fit to burst with joy when she finds that she is expecting. Marna cries when told, Rickard holds her and swears that she will lack for nothing. Edwyle is pleased, wishes her an easy pregnancy.

It is. And during her childbirth, Rickard remains with her, sitting behind her as she lays against his chest, pushing their child into the world. It’s a boy, one who screams loudly and squirms in her arms; he’s red and angry and she is madly in love with her boy.

Brandon they name him.

And she is absolutely delighted in her little family. Rickard is an excellent husband and father, he shares in the childrearing with ease and little complaint. 

Five months after Brandon’s birth, Aerys dies by poison. An inquest is made, but no one has answers and there is little to do. She dons black, but she is not sad to see her brother go, he is quite surprised that he lived that long. She’s now Duchess of Dragonstone of her own right. And life simply moves on.

*****

She gives birth to another boy, Eddard two years later after Brandon. Edwyle passes, sudden sickness takes him away during his sleep. People mourn their King, Marna is inconsolable, but finds solace in her grandchildren. Rickard holds her closer than ever.

They are crowned in a grand ceremony. She takes her duties as Queen seriously, much like Rickard takes his. Years pass and Rickard’s plans move forward, pushing the country into a new era. Then she births a daughter, whom they call Serena and lastly a son, Benjen.

Marna dies when Benjen is four and she weeps. She mourns for the woman who loved her like a mother, consoles Rickard and their children, mourns the fact that neither Serena or Benjen will remember much of her.

But time keeps going.

She watches as their children begin to grow into adults. Sees Brandon marry Catelyn, firstborn daughter of Duke Tully, Ned follows by marrying Lady Ashara Dayne, daughter of Earl Dayne.

Serena marries Jaime Lannister, and she is glad to see her wild daughter settle down. Only Benjen remains unwed.

Grandchildren begin to arrive and she delights in them. Rickard takes the role of grandfather with the same ease he did of father, they love their grandchildren and the love they have for one another never dwindles.

In fact, she’s sure that she loves Rickard more than what she had first thought possible. He became her life, a solid foundation to the castle of her dreams. She loves everything about him, that secret smile he saves only for her. Those poems he recites in her ear late at night, that passion that never really went away, that care and tenderness he always has in him for her.

But they grow old and Rickard’s older than her. She knows when his time is drawing near, sickness has fallen on him and she doesn’t move from his bedside.

“Was I a good husband, Rhae?” He asks, voice hoarse and tired. His eyes are glazed over. “Did I make you happy?”

“You were the best husband I could have ever hoped for,” she says, tears in her eyes and her voice cracks. “You made me the happiest woman ever.”

Rickard gives her a tired smile. “Good, at least I did you right.”

She kisses his forehead. “You did more than right, you saved me. When I had almost no hope left, you swept like a knight from a fairy tale. You saved me from the monster and allowed me to discover my own dragon. You gave me a family, I am the happiest woman that ever lived.”

“Good. I love my Queen, my beautiful silver Queen. My She-dragon. Always remember that.”

“And I love you, my Wolf-knight. Know that, I love you with every ounce of everything that I am.”

Rickard passes away in his sleep. She mourns. And even when grief clings to her like an old lover, she lives for her children and grandchildren. The life she led was full, loving and beyond anything that she could hope or dream for. 

When her time comes, she leaves the world with no regrets and a smile on her face.