#The sentence it resembles is my own work. More than once.

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

Preview for Intertwined, Chapter 17

Laudna feels like a lizard warming its blood on top of a rock, unphased by the oppressive heat. She stretches her legs out from under the shade of their improvised cover, the pallid grey of her skin further bleached by the black sands beneath.

She turns to her side to check on Imogen, fanning Laudna’s open notebook at her face with her eyes closed, muscles in her forearm flexing, hairs holding droplets of sweat like dewdrops on grass, deep freckled tan soaking sun-ray dye to a peeling red

“Your skin…”

Imogen halts, eyes opening to study her exposed forearms. She closes the notebook without ever reading the page, sets it down between them.

“Here, this is one I can share-” she declares, her drawl coloured eager.

She twists around to her rucksack, rummages through its contents briefly before unearthing a parcel with hemp string tied around a dampened cloth wrapping.

“I take a couple whenever I see ‘em, it’s hard to cover up in the heat, and long days on the fields ain’t the kindest to your skin-”

She undoes the parcel to reveal two thick leaves of aloe.

“Y’can either break a bit straight off if you've got a plant, this sorta gunk that comes out is what y’all wanna use like a moisturiser-“

She snaps a segment off from the widest part of the leaf to demonstrate, clear saliva-like substance oozing out from between the outer succulent flesh and the gelatinous centre.

“-but when y’all got quite a bit to cover I tend’ta peel off the outer green skin sorta bit and just rub it wherever I need to. It’s real refreshin’.”

Imogen takes her dagger from out of its holster and carves a clean dissecting line down the side of the leaf, peels its skin back and away in a manner familiar to flaying a fish. She presents the catch with skin held back in her out held palm

“See? Wanna touch it?”

Laudna grins enthusiastically, mentally taking notes on how to further accommodate for Imogen in the future. She nods and gently pushes the pad of her index finger onto the innards that feel like mucus-covered jelly. She supposes it must feel nice, hydrating and certainly accentuating a breeze if there were to be one, if her skin wasn’t - well, what it is. She pulls her finger away with a scrutinising tilt and crane to her head as she observes how a line of connective-tissue-gel creates a bridge between the fingertip and the leaf-innards.

bares resemblance to a sentence she has read once or twice before, to a time before transfusion.

“It looks a little vulgar.”              

Imogen’s skin manages to bloom a deeper beetroot red than what the sunburn already offered.

“wh-, Laud-  gods. I wasn’t tryna be obscene-” Imogen stutters and retracts the aloe segment in her hand, splitting the tether between it and Laudna, her movements suddenly flighty. Laudna feels a rush from influencing such manners.  

“Nothing obscene Imogen, it’s perfectly natural.” She does her best to remain stoic in delivery, though she finds the current display of behaviour both hilarious and adorable.

“I know it’s natural - it’s leaf gunk!” Laudna watches as Imogen looks to either side of herself as if scanning for a space she can retreat to - but they are surrounded by nothing except for exposed, flat, sweltering, and empty onyx desert.

“I’m not judging you for what you cover your skin with, I’m sure it is full of vitamins.”

“Stop talkin’ like that-”

“Like what?” Laudna feigns innocence

Imogen drags both of her hands over her face in flustered frustration

“like-”

“You’ve got some on your nose.”

Imogen grumbles as her skin invents a new, deeper shade of red - it sews quite the feeling of accomplishment, a high already terribly addictive.

She scowls, arms crossing and looking out across the flat landscape.

“I know you’re tryna wind me up.”

“You have quite the advantage there, but I don’t regret trying.”

“yeah, well, you succeeded.”

(you can read the previous chapters here)

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE DANCING WITH FIERCE

Ahem...

How bout a fic where we share, maybe teach Fierce how to dance?

I am living for these fics

I love this idea!! One dance scene coming up, and I'll throw in some /drama/ to sweeten the deal ;)

Smooth

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): some possessive thoughts, but nothing crazy

Masterlist

It was a preposterous idea, in the Fierce Deity's opinion; far too poignant to be introduced at the breakfast table, much less to the likes of him.

"I've picked up the waltz," the Link called 'Warrior' preened, leaning forward to fix you with a gaze the deity couldn't help but loathe. Of course, you were your own person and free to do as you pleased, though that sentiment did nothing to stem the flow of... he dare say it was jealously, through his veins. "I'd be happy to show you, if you'd like."

But sweet, unassuming you only grinned at him from across the table. "I know that one too! Anyone heard of the square dance?"

"I have, but 'm no good," Twilight chimed in, fork piled high with the eggs you and Wild made.

"I can dance on any ship mast!" Wind proclaimed, looking pointedly at everyone before his gaze settled on you. "If we ever end up in my world I'll teach you!"

"I can't wait," there it was, the soft smile that never failed to frame your face when you were truly happy. Fierce hoped you never lost it. Picking at the last of your food, you turned to the deity beside you. "How about you, big guy? You can't tell me you haven't danced at least once."

The Fierce Deity felt a sort of melancholy at your words, mostly because he had not, in fact, danced at least once and partly because impressing you was typically the highlight of his day. "I," he could feel Time's working eye on him, as cerulean as the Termina sky and twice as calculating. "am not familiar with the dances of this world."

That seemed the safest response, and the deity was relieved he could think as quickly on his buttocks as he could on his feet. When understanding settled in your gaze, he knew he made the right choice. "Well, allow me to impart some moves on you in case someone asks for your hand on the floor."

Aside from the fact that he had heard none of those words in the same sentence together, and that he would likely never accept the hand of anyone but you, the Fierce Deity could only helplessly nod, no more ensnared than a fish in a net. At night, your sway over him would be so baffling that he could hardly close his eyes, too caught up in the great mysteries of the heart he didn't know he possessed. "I would like that."

And so it was decided. The conversation devolved to you detailing all the errands the day required, and there was no shortage of help when it came to your needs–you had given them a home, food, and good company, so how could Time and Twilight refuse tending to the petunias, or Wild and Sky the cooking? Hyrule looked as though he would sooner restart his hero's journey than gather ingredients for the stew you had planned for dinner, while Legend's expression indicated that he would rather fight the beast Volga a thousand times over than not assist with laundry, never mind the amount of soiled clothes eleven people undoubtedly generated a week. Four's eyes resembled a mismatched kaleidoscope (he had been quite disturbed when you let him use yours, but the Fierce Deity wasn't one to shy easily) when you asked if he wanted some scrap metal from the neighbor's garage sale, and Wind was downright ecstatic when you invited him to the grocery store. Warriors gaze practically held heart-eyes when you informed him that the sewing materials to fix his ripped scarf would be arriving in the afternoon, only souring when you delegated the last task to the Fierce Deity himself: dance lessons at 4.

It was a laughable thought that his only responsibility was to prepare for lessons on dance, but the Fierce Deity was not one to complain at the newfound freedom, as if you had never offered it before. The tasks you laid out were simply requests, and it was clear that they could back out at any time, not that any of them would, of course. The Fierce Deity knew your behavior would have never passed in his world, and it was one of the things he admired about you, a mere mortal who could convince them of anything. He saw it in Time's eyes, in Twilight's and Wind's and Wild's. Devoted was too soft a word to describe it, but there was no better one.

And as you began to gather plates, chirping happily about the great weather, he began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was.

You found the Fierce Deity in the living room, sat beside Time and Warriors, their eyes practically glued to the episode of Family Feud playing on the TV. You found it funny how much they enjoyed the show, though you supposed it was a bid to learn more about your culture without having to ask you about every little thing. Wind had even begun to use slang, and while you were proud, his use of 'bro' was simply out of control at times, though nothing could top the time Twilight tried to use 'rad' in a sentence.

Leaning against the wall, you fake-coughed, tapping your watch when they turned to look at you. "Hey, Fierce, you ready to get some moves?"

Despite the obvious differences in word choice between the two of you, Fierce nodded solemnly and followed you to the backyard. A large 'patio' extended nearly to the middle of the yard, and his boots clomped obnoxiously on the slate-colored stone. It had been one of the only articles you allowed him to wear everywhere, as the people of your world tended not to be fond of men in armor that carried swords bigger than they were, which led to several heated discussions from you about proper dress. The Fierce Deity tugged on the sleeves of his grey 'shirt', a gift from you when you realized he was a bit large to shop at regular stores.

"We should be good here," you stated, hands poised on your hips. "I still can't believe you've never danced at all."

"It is not uncommon," responded the Fierce Deity. "Song and dance are for people of mirth."

You raised an eyebrow. "You don't consider yourself a 'person of mirth'?"

"I am the god of war," for a moment, the bitterness in his gaze was almost palpable. "There is no happiness in battle."

"Not even victory?" You were curious of the Fierce Deity, of what the lens of divinity really entailed. Had it truly made him cold, or was it merely a front?

"Especially not victory," he intoned, and you were nearly consumed with the urge to hug him. You'd never denied the vast differences your lives held, but it still stung to hear him speak so... despondently.

"Well," you patted his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. You had. "We haven't had a world war in, like, years, so don't worry your pretty little head about it!"

The Fierce Deity raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on your choice of words, much to your relief. Clapping your hands together, you changed the subject. "You have a very waltz-y style, so we'll start with that."

You offered him your hands, which he took with no hesitation. Contrary to your assumption, his porcelain skin was warm to the touch, and just as smooth. You couldn't help but wonder if all deity's were like this, or if it was merely another thing that set him apart from the gods. Carefully, you brought your right arm up, encouraging his to follow suit, then placed the palm of his right hand on your side, sliding your left hand up to rest on the curve of his bicep. "You're going to want to hold your arm up like this–and keep your hand under my arm like so."

"Then you step back with your right foot," you said as you stepped forward with your right. "Aaand take another step so both feet are parallel."

It was a testate to the Fierce Deity's character that he followed your movements with nary a grunt. Stark eyes burned holes into your own. The Fierce Deity was a man of few words, so you supposed it was fate that you had more than enough to share. "Now you're going to take a step with your left," your shoes clicked on the stone as you stepped back carefully. "Then another so your feet are parallel, and now move them together."

The Fierce Deity did just that, brows set in concentration. His dedication was flattering in a soft way, as was the thought that a god thought you were important enough to dance with. You had no doubt that he wouldn't have agreed if he didn't want to, though you could still hardly comprehend his interest in you, a mere mortal. Surely there were more compelling souls he could associate with, or were you simply a distraction from the shock of living in a new world? You tried not to think too hard, shooting the deity a practiced grin. "And that's all there is to it!"

Instead of pulling away, Fierce began anew, until you were dancing in the middle of the patio like no one's business. If dancing with a deity wasn't on your bucket list before, it sure was now.

"You are a good teacher," were the Fierce Deity's first words in however long you'd been outside. He was close enough that you could feel the steady puffs of his breaths, and you doubted you would ever feel quite as protected as you were now. "I shall treasure this experience."

Well, if that wasn't the sweetest thing you had heard today. "I'm glad, you're doing great!"

Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, it did. "Are you familiar with more dances?"

"A few," you shrugged. "Square dancing, the waltz... and the tango, but don't quote me."

The question in his pupil-less eyes was clear: when did you have the time? Time was a fickle concept, and it didn't surprise you that the Fierce Deity wouldn't have any left for song and dance. Yet here you stood, locked in a creative embrace that he should have scorned. What about you could have intrigued the deity so, or at least enough for him to request dance lessons?

Not that you minded, you would never mind.

"Do you want to learn those too?"

The Fierce Deity's head jerked up and down, ruffling his unusually impeccable bangs. You had no idea what sorcery he employed to achieve such an effortless look, but you wanted in. "Has your hair always been this long?"

His grip on your waist tightened a fraction, gaze practically burning a hole into your skull. "Yes."

Hair held memories, so what mysteries did his carry? Stories within strands, just begging to be discovered. Most importantly, would he allow you to read them, or were you simply grossly overestimating your relationship?

"I had it cut," the deity spoke, effectively coloring you surprised. "once."

"Only once?"

"It was during my service," it was back--the tone he used when he was only humoring you. You swayed across the cobblestone, ears perked for his next words. "I did not like it."

You... you could tell. "You don't say..."

"Do you cut your hair?"

"I do," you had no idea why admitting that felt embarrassing. "Not often, but enough that it doesn't get split ends."

"Split... ends?" By the way he said it, you would have assumed it was a curse. That and the fact that he apparently was oblivious to haircare other than what you assumed to be sorcery.

"...You don't know what those are?" His blank expression said all, so you coughed and stood a bit straighter. "It's when your hair grows to long and the ends just... split. Getting regular hair cuts and using good products helps."

"I... see," just when you thought that was the end of it, the madness continued. "And these products you speak of?"

Was he... did he really want to learn about human haircare? You supposed your hands were tied on the matter, so you heaved a sigh. "It's an umbrella term; there's hair masks, shampoo and conditioner, oils, butters–"

"You apply butter to your hair?" came a new, incredulous voice. Warriors and Wild strode out from the patio door, the former's scarf looped around his nose and mouth in a manner that made you wonder if you should be nervous. You attempted to release Fierce, but he refused, hold only tightening. "Dude– what's up, Wars, Wild?"

"Where's the... Hylia, I can't remember the name for the life of me," Wars scratched his head and groaned. "The red cylinder–"

"You mean the fire extinguisher?" You asked incredulously, trying and failing to hide your mounting terror.

Warriors grinned and snapped his fingers. "That's it! So...?"

"It's under the sink," you deadpanned. "Please tell me the kitchen isn't on fire."

"Okay, we won't," said Wild, already jogging backwards. You sighed as they retreated back into the house, the acid scent of smoke fingering in through the cracked windows.

"God give me strength–"

"You may utter that once more," said the deity with an exhausted expression.

Other than his horrible euphemism for 'you can say that again', you completely agreed with that statement. "I'd love to stay, but I really don't have the money to get a new microwave," you said a tad sheepishly, weaseling from his slackened grip. "You've got the talent, and don't you forget it!"

It was only until you disappeared inside the house that the Fierce Deity released the sigh he had been holding... and the arm that had raised in a half-hearted attempt to draw you back. 'Pitiful' was the first word to come to his mind when he thought of you; he was a god, and yet he was practically helpless to the whims of a mortal. He wondered how the goddesses saw him now, tamer than a sparrow in a golden cage and more obedient than a hound on a leash. Perhaps it was wonder that drew him closer, emboldened by the terrifying presence of love in his barren heart. There were so many different types of love, and the Fierce Deity liked to think he felt at least one of them toward you. It would certainly explain the uncomfortable feeling in his chest when one of the others had your attention. But, rational as he was, the deity knew attempting to control you would be like trying to stem a raging river. Not that he wanted to, he simply desired your eyes on him, your hands in his own, warm and soft with gentle promises of comfort. He wondered if you would make good on your word, because, really, the concept of dance lessons was a preposterous idea–the Fierce Deity didn't dance at the whims of mortals–and he would be eternally grateful to the goddesses for granting him that pleasure.

This ask is insanely on time because I JUST learned how to square dance yesterday at college. Also this is an unofficial part of Knightmare in Toronto <3

[purplelupins]

Salvador

|Better Call Saul|

Part I Part II

Word count: 17k

Lalo Salamanca x Fem!reader

Summery: Reader just wanted a fresh start, but when she starts working in a care home, it seemed that she bit off more than she could chew when she meets a member of her clients family.

Warnings: (this story has smut but not in part 1), slow burn, age gap, mentions of past domestic violence/toxic relationship, manipulation, intimidation, pet names (niña, niñita, princesita, Cariño, Ratoncito) Spanish (have a translator ready),Lalo kinda comes with his own warnings,

Notes: this is dedicated to my dear friend @mandowifey who was a massive part of the creation of this…couldn’t have done it without you🤍

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Even with a world on fire, we often dare to place our faith in the hands of someone who we hope we are not naive to trust. It is perplexing just what desire and blind devotion will drive a person to do. Even in our wildest dreams we cannot imagine what our actions will bring us, or who.

It is a daring game of chicken, so to speak. Seeing who will break first- you or life. Who will bend. Who will be kinder. Who will show love.

Love in and of itself is a treacherous thing. It’s beauty when it is alive and blazing, and the sorrow it brings when it whithers and putrefies.

And you knew it all.

All too well.

There was something comforting in standing under the baking sun of the southern state of New Mexico. With just a suitcase that held a toothbrush, bandages, $3026.50 and a change of clothes, you felt like a little waif from a book published centuries ago. Malnourished, exhausted, nerves shot half way to hell, and bruises still healing. You hoped there was a childish charm to how you looked, but you knew that hope was silly; you resembled more of a drug addict than a stubborn child that wouldn’t come home for supper.

“-miss?”

The first half of whatever had just been asked of you was lost on you; after you had nearly frozen to the spot after exiting the airport, numerous strangers had stopped to ask if you were alright. You forced your eyes to refocus, and found that you were being spoken to by an older woman who looked half irritated and half perturbed. Despondency had that effect on people.

“…I’m- I’m sorry…what?” You managed. Perhaps the Albuquerque sun had begun to bake your brain.

The woman sighed. She was decidedly more irritated. “Christ, I just asked if you were taking this cab!” She said, nodding to the yellow vehicle that was just several feet from you.

You stared at her, then offered her a small smile and shook your head. “It’s all yours.”

There was an uncomfortable lightness to your voice as you fought to stay connected to your body and not float away to Mars. Even you knew it. You didn’t sound like you. Hell you didn’t even look like you.

The woman said something about you taking long enough to answer something simple, but if you were honest you were proud of yourself for even being able to answer her. Just 10 hours ago you had been unable to even form a sentence as your body was plagued with panic; frantically packing what you needed in the span of 5 and a half minutes while your boyfriend - now ex- had been on the phone in the other room. You could still hear the sound of him yelling your name as you jumped in your car and peeled down the street before he could hurt you anymore.

Your heart still hurt from how hard it had been beating.

The taxi pulled away and you watched it go. A warm breeze slipped up your legs, and once it brushed your finger tips, you felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped from a hundred feet above you with you as it’s sole target.

Your eyes stung.

Your fists clenched.

But you had no more tears. Not for him anyway.

You might morn the death of who you used to be…the bright young girl who had a sparkle in her eyes and had yet to see the devil. Your heart broke when you thought of her.

But there was no blood…no body…nothing left to even hint that she was there to begin with. And there was nothing you could do about it.

•Three months later•

“Mrs. Creaner, I know the water tastes funny but I told you- you can’t keep asking your granddaughter to smuggle in alcohol now hand it over.”

“This is supposed to be a free country…” she grumbled as she rooted around over her thigh in her wheel chair, and produced the flask.

You suppressed a smirk at her antics, and held out your hand.

“Ma’am your granddaughter is 7 years old.” You sighed, handing her a styrofoam cup as she begrudgingly handed you the little metal flask.

“Smarter than a lot of you in here too.” She folded her arms and slumped in her wheelchair, “If you’re going to take that from me at least do your job and take me to bingo.”

You nodded and took the handles of the chair and began to push.

The job opening at Casa Tranquila had been a godsend to you all those months ago. Living out of a cheap motel was not ideal, and working in a comfortable retirement care facility on the outskirts of Albuquerque was just what your nerves needed. It certainly came with its difficulties, namely mediating your emotions and avoiding getting your ass pinched, but it paid your bills and gave you a great sense of purpose. In some way it made you feel as if you actually had a family that cared about whether you woke up in the morning.

It was no dream job, but it was what you needed. It kept you occupied and kept the heavy sense of loneliness at bay.

“- we do have to move you. Hector come on now, it’s just like everyday.” Came the voice of one of the senior nurses, Ellie.

You glanced over your shoulder and watched as she wheeled a very displeased elder man in the same direction as you were walking Mrs. Creaner. With careful steps so as to not trip, you turned and cast the man a greeting glance.

“Good afternoon Hector.” You said simply but cheerfully, then nodded to your co-worker in acknowledgement.

The man’s permenant frown twitched.

Hector Salamanca was a fairly new addition to the home, having been emitted just two months after you had started. And if you were honest, he was disliked; staff and patients found him difficult to deal with- which you found unfair. It wasn’t his fault that he could only communicate via the tapping of a single finger, blinking and limited facial expressions. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t coherent too, you knew very well that whoever Hector was before his stroke, he was still very much present behind those greying brown eyes. Certainly he was a grumpy old man, but if you had been in his position you were certain you wouldn’t exactly be a peach.

If anyone took a moment to watch most of the residences, they’d see just how alive most of them were despite their aging bodies; Hector was no different. He had fellow patients who he disliked; enjoyed knocking various objects over to make nurses have to bend over; he had his specific things he liked and didn’t like.

He was still every bit a red blooded man.

And while you weren’t one to play favourites, he was probably the closest thing to it.

You liked that he didn’t hide himself away. He was brash and blunt in his ways- non-verbal or not. Then there was a loneliness in his life that reflected your own; kindred spirits in a way. It pained you to see it at an old age like his. He had very few visitors, aside from when he had initially been dropped off by two men who must have been identical twins. You knew he couldn’t be all bad, and knew that a great deal of his anger must have come from his lack of contact to what family he had, and his inability to communicate. He was only human.

Just as you had expected, Hector made no move to acknowledge that he had heard your greeting. As per residence policy, each client was called by their first name, but since the first day you met that man, you had noted that he seemed more displeased by the informality. He looked furious when he had been wheeled around that first day and introduced as Hector; corners of his mouth pulled tight and down to his chin, eyes wild, nose twitching. Irate.

Your suspicions were only reinforced when you “accidentally” called him Señor Salamanca; he had actually looked you in the eye. A rare occurrence.

With that level of pride, you pondered that he must have been respected or feared before being placed under your care…or simply had a massive ego. And if he wasn’t around for that much longer and was barely existing, you saw little issue with making him feel like his old self by addressing him more formally.

Hector didn’t like a lot of people. Didn’t tolerate them. But he liked you.

Plus you gave him the best jello flavours.

Once the senior nurse placed him in the spot she deemed appropriate, you watched her walk away before dipping your head down to his level, like you always did.

“Buenos días, Sr. Salamanca.” You said, and smiled when you saw his head twitch ever so slightly in your direction. And that smile only grew when you saw him tap his finger. You hoped it was his way of returning the greeting, either that or he wanted to tell you to shove said greeting where the sun don’t shine.

You hoped he was saying hello. You hadn’t accomplished a great deal in your short life, and you liked to think that making the grouch at work a little happy could be added to your list.

Your days looked very much the same. A nightmare would wake you up at 5am almost every morning, as much as you hated to admit it. You hated how small you felt. Visions of being back with him, under his thumb and living to please him with no favour returned…no love to feel. His voice in your head…his manipulations. You often awoke with your stomach in knots.

You could never get back to sleep after.

By the time the alarm you set sounded at 6am, you would be ready to leave your small apartment. Then it was a half hour drive to work. At Casa Tranquila, you would check in, bring your assigned patients their morning medication and start their routine. The same faces came and went, it was almost a blur some days. But you loved the blur. You needed it. Your mind had only started to heal once your days became blurs that bled into each other, and you were uncertain of what might happen if you changed that.

You pulled your keys from the ignition, and took a long breath deep into your chest. You felt an ache in your chest with how full your lungs were, and only released when you began to feel lightheaded.

Another day.

Having finished with the lunch duties, you took a moment to stretch your back in the nurse’s station before squaring your shoulders like you were tougher than you were. You began your rounds, checking on each elder during visiting hours, and went to enter the main seating area when you stopped short of the simple room.

Your feet ceased to move.

Your eyes went wide.

For the first time since you had met Hector Salamanca, there was someone sitting with him that wasn’t paid to.

A man, to be specific.

He was knelt down in front of Hector with his back to you, and spoke with an almost child-like glee to him. A ringing formed in your ears, and it took you a long minute to finally realize the ringing was not just in your ears at all; the crisp sound of a service bell rang out in the room, and as you stared, you came to find that the sound was coming from…Hector.

Indeed there was a small bell catching the sunlight on the arm of his chair right where his mobile finger usually sat.

You felt happiness fill you as the initial shock subsided. It was a mutual loneliness that had made you take interest in Hector to begin with, and you foolishly hoped that perhaps someone would cure your solitude like this man cured his.

You were staring.

Evidently too long as well, as another harsh ring snapped you out of whatever trance you had been in. Now, however, you could see Hector’s harsh gaze on you- his mouth twitching as he rung the bell again. Clearly having Hector not fully pay attention to him made the man pause whatever he had been discussing. He murmured something to the elder man, and Hector rang his bell again.

You told yourself to just keep walking. But you couldn’t.

The man sat before your patient seemed to catch on, and followed his gaze, which lead to him turning his head, and finally seeing you.

It was his eyes that struck you first.

They glittered like warm honey.

The man looked between you and Hector and murmured something to him, which was met with the usual verbal silence, then he muttered something else and it resulted in a ring. You hoped to God that meant something positive because you had just noticed yet another man standing who you had never seen before standing just a few feet behind the crouched man. He looked very much like some kind of body guard, rather than a friend or family; your heartbeat picked up and you began to wonder just who Hector was. Certainly you had thought he must have been the head of a family and perhaps a business owner, but there was something so militant about the way this man standing there was guarding them.

It couldn’t have been longer than 7 seconds since you had become rooted to the spot, but it certainly felt worlds longer. Once you realized you had frozen, you blinked and forced a polite smile onto your face as you continued your path.

“Buenos días, Sr. Salamanca.” You said as casually as you could, hoping your nerves didn’t seep through. You hoped you would be able to make it past the men without incident, and you thought you had…but then another ring struck your nerves. There was a pause followed by murmuring, which you didn’t understand but went something along the lines of:

“¿Me estás diciendo que te las arreglaste para que esta linda niña cuidara al tío? Creo que pronto tendré que retirarme y unirme a vosotros, ¿sí?” then another few rings followed by a laugh.

His laugh- the man with the glittering eyes.

You had no idea what he had said, but something about the way he said it made a warmth creep up the back of your neck, and spread to your cheeks at the sound-

Snap

You stopped.

Snap

You turned far more jerkily than you wanted, and to your horror, the man crouching was now staring back at you intently with that smile still on his face, albeit more curt. He held his hand out and beckoned you over with two fingers. You swallowed, but fought to keep your face pleasant. Visitors didn’t usually interact with staff unless they needed something, or it was time for them to go…and you hoped this was one of the two.

You came to stand a few feet from the men, wanting to remain respectful, “Hola gentlemen, it’s nice to see Sr. Salamanca having some visitors.” The professional grin on your face didn’t reach your eyes. You were too nervous for that.

“My tio was just talking about you.” He told you brightly, “Says you’ve been looking after him, hm?” The kneeling man seemed to have no issue with dominating a conversation; you chanced a glance at the bald man standing, but he barely reacted. Goosebumps sprang up on your arms when you looked back at Hector’s nephew; unfamiliar with the direct attention.

“Well I…it’s what I’m here for, Señor.” You managed. There was something about this man that made it difficult to look away. The way his dark hair was combed neatly, and how the stripe of grey on the crown of his head swept into a curl that barely stayed back; how his brown eyes looked black in the shadows, and how the deep lines on his face made his expressions so defined; how his smile stretched so charmingly; how when he stared at you it was like only the two of you existed.

He scared you.

And he could tell.

He wagged his finger at you, “Ahh a humble girl, eh? If my tio likes you that’s good enough for me, niña…but you know- this is perfect!” He smiled even wider as he spoke almost animatedly, but you noted how the smile failed to reach his eyes now. “‘Cause now I’ll know just who to come to if my tio needs anything.” The man’s smile fell to rest as he blinked up at you, speaking so casually, yet you couldn’t help but note the menacing undertone of his words. Your brain was working overtime as you tried to piece things together; all you could come up with was that you didn’t want to upset anyone or say the wrong thing. You were certain these men were not your ordinary visitors, and you didn’t want to find out anything beyond that.

“Consider me accountable, Señor.” You heard yourself say.

A moment passed, and you so desperately wanted to break the stare he gave you, but then it as if nothing had happened when his stellar grin returned. He barked out a laugh at you.

“Esta niña, lo juro...” he said to the man standing, then turned back to you, “Eduardo Salamanca, but you can call me Lalo.” He beamed. His smile was infectious and you found the corners of your mouth tugging up a little, despite your nerves.

Like a wolf lulling a lamb into false security.

There was something expectant in his gaze as he told you his name, and you assumed it was him waiting to know yours. Tit for tat. The theatrical, charming nature of him coupled with whatever made his smile resemble a predator’s made your stomach flip. He was both sides of a coin simultaneously, and you struggled to process it.

“Y/n…y/n l/n.” You replied to him. Lalo repeated your name a few times, rolling it around in his mouth. Your eyes felt glazed over as you listened to him; like he was hypnotizing you. You hadn’t even noticed how you were wringing your hands, nor how you hadn’t torn your gaze from his.

Lalo patted his uncle’s arm after a moment, “You said no one’s visited my Tio?” His face turned inquisitive and concerned, though almost cartoonish. Like there was a joke you were missing.

You shook your head as you snapped back to your body. Somehow your anxiety was starting to fade, and you chalked it up to having a name to put to his face- it made him feel more human to you, “No. I- I almost started to wonder if- if he had family, Señor Lalo.”

He nodded, which caused the curl of grey in his hair to finally fall over his forehead. Your eyes instantly latched onto it.

He was handsome.

Then faster than lightning, Lalo turned and shot a look to the man standing, then nodded his head understandingly. Almost as if to check with the man to see if what you said was true.

“That will change…you know, you should see us Salamancas- we breed like rats.” He said proudly, and chuckled.

He had a nice voice. Rough and low with an easiness to it.

You felt your cheeks warm at his statement, then nodded and remembered to blink. “Well…I’m happy to hear that- that people will come t-to see him that is.” You murmured, stumbling to correct yourself.

You watched his smile pull into a boyish smirk and you looked down to wipe away a nonexistent fluff from your uniform.

“I promise, you’ll have to smoke me and Nacho outta here. I’m looking after the family business so you’ll see lots of us.” He laughed, and nodded to the man behind him.

You looked at the other man, and smiled a little as if to aknowledge his presence. The stare he gave back to you was…bordering on sympathetic. Not what you expected.

You suddenly felt as if you were bordering on something you shouldn’t, despite your softness for the elder Salamanca.

You decided to trust your intuition.

“Well…I don’t want to intrude on your visit anymore. I’ll leave you gentlemen to it…Sr.Salamanca’s nurse should be by to take him in a little while.” You gave both men a small smile and nodded to Hector, who frowned deeper at the mention of his caregiver.

Lalo seemed to notice the change, and his smile dropped a little in curiosity. You sighed, and came a little closer to Lalo so no one would hear, “Sr.Salamanca doesn’t like her…and between you and me I think he’ll be even more Uh…vocal about it with this beautiful bell.”

Lalo’s eyes went comically wide, but the smile tugging under his moustache betrayed him. He was ecstatic. “Really? Will that be an issue?”

You noticed he didn’t clarify if he was talking about the bell or the nurse.

His charisma began to draw you back in, and you shook your head, “There won’t be an issue.”

He nodded and clapped his thigh, “Excellent!”

His reaction seemed to put you at ease, not that it should have. This man was playful in a very odd way and you didn’t know if feeling comfortable around him was a good thing. But you weren’t sure how long you would keep up with his banter, so you excused yourself.

“Right, well…enjoy the rest of your visit.” You smiled slightly again at both men, and backed away before turning and walking quickly out of the foyer. Your hands were shaking- you weren’t used to such direct conversation- with a stranger at that.

You heard Lalo say say “Adios!” to you, and you cast a quick smile back, but you didn’t stop. Panic began to rise in you as you recalled the last time someone had shown you such an amount of charm…the bastard had eaten you up and you had had to crawl out of his stomach. And there you were: hiding.

As soon as you were down the hall and out of view, you gasped and braced against the wall; your heart was working over time.

“You alright sweetie?” One of the male nurses stopped next to as you as he passed. A nice older man named Jim.

You sucked in a breath and forced a smile, “Y-yeah, thank you…just one of those days.” You reassured him. The man pursed his mouth, but didn’t press anymore as he nodded sympathetically. It was was well known that you were a private person, and you appreciated when someone respected that.

As your chest slowly unclenched, you felt your head grow light. Your poor nerves were so shot that you truly were unsure as to whether that man was just charming and witty, or if he was just trying to get in your head. You couldn’t tell the difference between a genuine interaction and a narcissistic one anymore.

You rolled his name over in your head, and found that you enjoyed how it sounded.

Lalo…

You found yourself mentally throttling your brain over how it began to assume the worst. That you had chosen to lightly insert yourself into an old man’s life when you shouldn’t have; that you were being selfish. Stupid. Dependant. All of the above. You felt the weight of your guilt strain on your shoulders, and you let it.

You were being selfish and childish. You didn’t have a family, and you needed to stop pretending you did just because an old man didn’t hate you.

A little over a week passed since you met Hector’s eccentric nephew, and you had to admit that he had entered your mind a few times despite you actively not trying to think of that family. You felt a pang of hurt in your chest every time you did. You had no business envying them- it wasn’t your place.

That Wednesday was a very pleasant day; there was a light breeze that cooled the air and dried the sweat that gathered on your brow. You rounded the corner of the main living area that fed out into the patio, and as you stepped out, the fresh air made you inhale deeply. As you looked up and down the outside area, you felt yourself pause. He was back. You were met with the amusing sight of Lalo Salamanca retrieve a flask, pour out the jello vitamin mix that sat in front of Hector, and pour a hefty serving of liquor inside the cup. You almost laughed. These elderly people loved their alcohol.

For a couple seconds, you allowed yourself to take in Lalo’s appearance. You knew he was handsome since you first saw him, but you felt as if you could appreciate just how well he cared for himself now. A rich purple polo that pulled tight around his biceps…neat hair and moustache, a polished gold necklace just peaking out against his chest-

Stop it.

You shook yourself and forced your mind to push any thoughts of him out. Your trust in your ability to judge a character was under great scrutiny every since…since you got away.

This man was charming, and that was it.

It was company policy for no alcohol to be on the premises, but instead of making Hector’s day even more miserable, you let him have a few sips as you stayed just out of their view until Lalo hid the flask. Once you stepped out, you let your professional smile settle onto your tired face.

“Good afternoon Señor Salamanca, Señor Lalo.” You greeted them; your nerves were already starting to amp up in his proximity, but you managed to speak with a little less discomfort than last time.

As if to return the greeting, you heard Hector’s bell sound just as the younger of the two turned to you and smiled, “Ahh the humble señorita.” Lalo leaned an arm over the back of his chair- opening his stance. His voice was a pleasant rumble in the back of his throat. You noted that he appeared to be far more at ease this visit. First visits were often the hardest for family- seeing their loved ones in a nursing-home could be a difficult pill to swallow.

Lalo continued, “You got a pretty sweet deal here.” He look at around appraisingly as he took in the patio. Admittedly it was one of the more favoured sections of the home and recently renovated. But he was right, it wasn’t that bad of a facility.

“I can’t complain too much.” You agreed, and folded your hands in front of yourself as you stood between the men. Lalo’s personality was far louder than what you were used to, and the part of you that craved human connection urned to keep up with him; once upon a time you might have had the ability…but not anymore. You admired how quick and bright-burning he was- like a firecracker.

Lalo smiled. “Polite.”

Your brow furrowed, “Sorry?”

He shook his head- smile growing- and looked at Hector then back to you, “Hey there’s nothing wrong with it- you’re humble too…you some kinda saint? You gotta be to work in a place like this- I’d lose my mind.” He laughed and leaned more into his chair.

His statement made you pause for a moment. It wasn’t that far off from the truth- the need for patience that is.

“Taking care of someone can mean accepting them like a part of your family…there’s a real selflessness that you have to find in you, Señor Lalo. For myself it’s a bit easier than most…I-I don’t exactly have much of a family, so Hector fills a pretty big void at the moment.” You said simply. It was the honest truth. You shared your patient’s happy moments and their worst moments; they trusted you with their well-being, so it was only fair that you cared for them blindly- job or not.

It was no small admission- to say that you were isolated- but Lalo had a way about him that loosened your tongue.

He stared up at you for a moment, then huffed out a laugh, “Be careful with a Salamanca, we bite.” He pointed at you playfully, though you gathered that while he was indeed teasing, there was a more serious connotation to his words.

Lalo’s dark eyes glittered with mirth as he regarded you.

“Even you, Señor Lalo?” You tilted your head to the side slightly, and watched him shyly.

The older man’s smile formed into an amused smirk, “Klah- me? Never.” He scoffed, but his bright eyes betrayed him.

This man was trouble.

Your lips tugged upwards as you nodded to both men; his jest was not lost on you. It was as if he wished you would ask him how hard his bite was, but you knew that would likely be a poor choice on your part. “Prey can bite too, Señor,” you quipped.

Evidently your response surprised the man as his thick brows rose up. You felt regret pull at you for engaging in his game, but you didn’t want to immediately back down. Shock was a nice expression to see on a man so sure of himself. You nodded to both men, and took a step back, “Enjoy your visit, Señors.”

You continued your route, and made your way onto your next check-up; the feeling of eyes burning into the back of your skull followed you as you went, and a few eager dings from Hector’s bell rang in your ears.

When you finished with one of your oldest patients, Thomas Lee - who did not get along with Hector at all- you tentatively looked back at the far table; it was empty now. Even Hector was gone. You sighed and pursed your mouth, knowing you were playing with fire with this man. A part of you hoped that he would stop coming, or visit on your couple days off.

Stupid.

You were being stupid, and that was that.

The day ended like every single one before that. With you and your coworkers exhaused, hungry, covered in sticky grime, and back sore. You stood in front of your locker, taking a drink from your bottle when another attendant you knew walked to hers. Samantha…yes, her name was Samantha.

“Hey.” You greeted her, smiling sympathetically at eachother.

“Going home too?” She asked as he took her hair down from its curly bun.

You nodded and retrieved your bag, hoping you had something in your fridge to eat. “Sure am…”

She unlocked her locker and smiled a little, “Saw you talking to that visitor of Hector’s today…he’s not bad on the eyes hey?” She smiled.

You felt your cheeks flush, “Oh, yeah…hes nice.” You replied, not wanting to get into it…but then a thought crossed your mind. “Sam?” You asked her.

She turned to you and nodded. “Mhm?”

“Do…do you know anything about Hector? Ab-about his family?” You murmured, looking up at her.

Her brows hopped up and she shuffled a little closer to you, “Mr. Salamanca?” She confirmed.

You nodded after a moment, not fully certain you were ready, but your curiosity was too strong.

Sam looked around briefly, “Well…I mean you know we’re not supposed to really ask questions or anything…” she began, “…but…I’ve heard a few things.” Sam nodded her head and you noticed her playfulness lessened.

You turned to her fully now and gave her your full attention…she seemed to understand that you were curious. That, and she had been trying to talk to you properly for months and was likely over the moon that you weren’t being skittish.

“I- I’d like to know…” you said a little more gently than you usually did.

She sighed, and nodded. “Apparently…those guys that dropped Hector off were really strange…didn’t speak, and just gave Ronny- the reception guy, remember he quit last month? Yeah him, anyways…they gave him this folder with all of Hector’s information and there was no spot open for the old fart…but after a few phone calls, there was suddenly a spot open. It was so weird, but- I don’t know…” she stopped her speculation but you wanted to hear more.

“Please- it- it’s okay, this is between us.” You reassured her, and you meant it. You had expected her to just brush you off or say no, but now it was as if the name Salamanca was a curiosity to you all.

A beat passed before Sam finished with her locker and shut it. “It just…I don’t speak much Spanish but they always speak so secretively…just…I don’t know they might just be talking about family gossip but sometimes it’s fun to imagine they’re actually some…I don’t know a mafia or cartel family or something.”

As the words left her mouth, you felt the blood drain from your face. Everything that struck you as strange flashed before your eyes and it began to make sense-

“But honestly they’re probably just weird- you should see my folks, they’re nuts. I just like to make stories up for everyone to make the days go faster! See you tomorrow.” She smiled and walked past you, leaving you there with this new possibility weighing heavy on you.

Once you finally pulled yourself from the locker room, and waved a few dazed goodbyes to the staff you saw, you stepped outside and walked out to the parking lot. Your car keys caught on your nurse’s mask as you pulled them from your bag and you tsked them. You were preoccupied with the task as you made your way in the direction of where you parked, and once you freed them and looked up, you froze in the middle of the parking lot.

You knew that curl of grey anywhere. Lalo stood leaning against your car, with his hands in his pockets and a friendly smile on his face pointed at you. Since meeting him, You had yet to see him stand up, and now at his full height, his sturdy frame overpowered you even from a few meters away. He was tall and broad and confident, and you felt very small all of a sudden.

“So! Where are we going?” He said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and he didn’t even try to hide it.

“Wha-?” You asked as you managed to go closer.

He rolled his eyes “C’mon- you hungry? I’m famished.” He stood away from the hood, and his tone was so persuasive you almost forgot about what Sam had said.

Almost.

You shook your head and tried to be as friendly as you could in an effort to hide how your hands shook, “Really it’s alright, I’m —“

His smile finally dropped. “Get in.”

His statement made you contemplate running. Getting back inside the retirement home and locking yourself in a closet, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t end well. Hell you doubted you’d even make it a few paces from him before his big hand grabbed your hair. So against your better judgement, you nodded and wordlessly handed him the keys.

“There she goes, Atta girl.” He smiled again, and accepted the keys joyfully; this time the creases around his eyes deepened. Lalo slid into the drivers side and started the car. As he went to back out, he cast a look around the inside, and seemed to note that you didn’t take the best care of the car.

“You need a tool box?” He asked.

You buckled yourself in and barely caught what he said as you mentally screamed at yourself for getting in the car. Were you really that stupid? “Wha- huh? Oh-“ you caught where he was looking and cursed yourself for being so sloppy.

You backseat housed several materials you carried with you in case you car broke down -which it had the tendency to do. A pair of wire cutters wrapped in duct tape and some pliers to match, a lug wrench, a jack and a pylon…not to mention a first aid kit and a blanket. “I’m…I uh…just haven’t had the time.” You murmured, “Sorta new here.”

The older man frowned exaggeratedly and rose his brows as if to say “Alright then.” And silently put the car in reverse. He backed out with one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of your seat, and you had no choice but to smell his scent…you didn’t know if it was cologne or something else but he smelled of smoke and whiskey…and something sweet like syrup. Like he had been sitting in front of a fire drinking after dessert.

“So! Why don’t you tell me about yourself.” Lalo navigated easily through the streets, and looked over at you like you were old friends.

You thought for a moment, having taken an interest in a hangnail on your thumb. “Not much to tell, Señor.” You said as you looked up. It wasn’t a lie. Your story was a sad one and not a terribly interesting one at that.

“Cmon.” He dragged the word out, “You said you count my Tio as family…any normal person wouldn’t say that in a million years.” The older man laughed and tilted his head to chase your gaze a little when you averted your eyes.

“Why do you say that?” You asked as you looked down again.

Lalo gave you a pointed look. “Smart girl like you can figure that out, niñita.”

You sighed. It wasn’t as if you could just walk away from the conversation…he had you. Regardless of his motivations, Lalo was undoubtedly protective of his uncle…and you had to respect that. You wished you knew what it was like to have someone so protective, but you could imagine it was liberating.

“You think I have some kind of alterier motive behind my kindness to your uncle.” You said simply, trusting your intuition.

Lalo looked out the window, and you wondered if he had even heard your answer.

“You hungry?” He asked, pointing to a burger joint as he already turned his indicator on to pull in.

The sudden change in topic made you blink, your brain lagging. “I-…sure. Don’t stop on my account though I have food at home.” You squeezed your hands out of anxiousness, but he was already going to the drive thru. You had completely forgotten about how hungry you were for the last hour when you saw him in the parking lot. Now seeing the menu, your stomach growled.

“Whatdya want?” He asked expectantly.

It felt so…domestic. You had gone from being certain you might end up being interrogated in a warehouse to him taking you for food in a matter of seconds. You felt your stomach tighten with unease at the memory of the last person who had taken you through a drive thru; that time however you had been disassociating so badly you didn’t even remember ordering nor eating. Ungrateful he had called you.

Snap snap

Your eyes refocused and saw a large hand in front of your face having just snapped a couple times to get your attention.

You swallowed and sighed to steady yourself.

“What’s good here?” You asked, turning to him.

One of his full brows was raised at your odd behaviour, but his face went back to his playful demeanour instantly. “Depends…but their number 2 and number 8 are good.”

You nodded thoughtfully, “What do you get?”

He held up two fingers, pulling the car up through the drive thru to the speaker, “I’m from the south though so I like to add extra spice. Burns your mouth right off but god it’s worth it, you know?” The lines around his mouth and eyes deepened when he smiled and spoke.

Your couldn’t help but return the smile a little at him. You gathered he could probably befriend anyone he set his sights on. A people person…regardless of how intimidating he was.

“I’ll get the same…but um, I think I’d like to keep my mouth.” You said the last part a little shyly, hoping he wouldn’t take offence.

Lalo laughed, “Too bad, I was looking forward to seeing how red your pretty face would get!”

You…were not expecting that. You didn’t have time to reply or ask him to repeat himself before he was leaning out the window and adding extra fries to your order.

“You ever been to Mexico?” Lalo asked as he started driving again up to the window.

You shook your head, “No…haven’t been to a lot of places.”

He gasped, “No! Really? Ahh man, you’d love it. Best food in the world.”

When the window came into view you instinctively reached for your purse when you saw Lalo already producing a $20, and re-pocketing a wad of cash. He tsked you when he noticed you.

The woman at the window handed him the two bags of food and drinks and he smiled charmingly. “Gracias!” Lalo beamed, depositing your order in your lap, then began his way through the city again.

“Plain number 2 for you and fun number 2 for papi, you like orange? I got you an orange soda, you’re gonna love it. Used to smuggle these bastards when I was a kid…my Tio beat the shit outta me for it.” He laughed as he handed you the drink; shaking his head as he steered the car one handed and rifled through his paper bag with the other.

You accepted the orange coloured soda, brows shooting up. He was…generous. The smell of the burger hit you, and you felt your mouth water. It had been ages since you had a proper meal, even if it was take-out. You tentatively took your food out, and took a bite. You swore stars erupted in front of your eyes as the taste filled your mouth; pleasure sensors in your brain lighting up.

The older man beside you watched you out of the corner of his eye as he ate and drove. A proficient multitasker. You were hungry. Seemingly non-threatening…skittish…but you weren’t off-putting. Tired. Definitely tired.

Lalo pulled off the main road and began the drive into the neighbourhoods; he continued to take the occasional bite of his food as he drove. You wondered how he could be so relaxed constantly. You wondered if he had a single tense bone in his body. He was always at ease…like he was always 10 steps ahead of everyone. He was handsome, and you wondered if he used that as a distraction for what lay underneath; perhaps he was a calculating, plotting and scheming man under all the smiles and goofy theatrics…

Your food was gone within 5 minutes.

When Lalo finally looked over at you, he barked out a pleased laugh when he saw the empty wrapper and your last few fries in your hand.

“Shit, I’d better be careful or you might eat me!” He joked, and took a sip of his soda.

You hadn’t realized it but your shoulders had dropped and your fists had unclenched. You were relaxed.

And the older man beside you knew it.

“Tell me…what do you know about us Salamancas.” He said as if he was commenting on the weather.

You knew the question was coming, how could he not ask?

You put your drink down, and thought carefully. “You’re all very…intense.” You replied.

Lalo laughed, “Good one. What else?”

This time you fiddled with a napkin still in your lap. You didn’t want him to think you actually knew anything, because you honestly didn’t. You used your brain and speculated and observed, but you didn’t know much at all. You knew Hector likes grape jello more than raspberry and that Lalo’s necklace was that of Saint Anne- the Mother of Santa Maria…but that was the extent of what you knew for certain.

“You run some kind of business…here in Albuquerque…and I…I think you’re not just some nobody with an uncle in a nursing home…” You murmured almost to yourself. You half hoped he would ask you to repeat yourself so you could come up with something else…but his ears were as sharp as a fox.

“Ahh see, clever girl. I thought so.” His smile slowly faded into a calm line. “Why do you care for my Tio? Don’t tell me he’s your type- you’ll break my heart.” Lalo’s cheeky grin came back.

The jest did lighten your anxiety a little, just as the food had, but you noted that he ignored the mention it the business. He was evasive. And he was charming while he did it.

You knew Lalo had his doubts about you…even if it was for the home itself and not just you, you were th# lucky bastard who he had chosen to interrogate. If you wanted him to understand exactly why it was that you were so at ease with caring for grumpy elderly people - specifically Hector- you needed him to see your perspective. If this was any other relative of a patient, you would have jumped out of the car or booked it before he could have even gotten you inside…but you had a nagging feeling that the only way this would end well was if you saw it through. No matter how painful it was.

“You didn’t see him for the last 2 months, Señor…” You said gently, “He’s…he’s been alone. Completely. No visitors, no friends amongst the other patients…he’s- well non-verbal patients have a difficult time as it is…but paralysed one’s have it even harder…and I- well…I don’t exactly have anyone…at all really. Don’t have contact with anyone so…I think there’s just a certain level of recognition between people who are alone. I’ve been looking after Hector for two months now…you don’t know how hard it is to see him sit alone during visiting hours- for any of my patients that have to do that for that matter. I wouldn’t wish loneliness on my worst enemy, Señor. He didn’t have anyone and if he died tomorrow I wouldn’t sleep knowing he didn’t at least think someone cared enough to look after him, blood related or not.”

You meant it. You knew your fate was likely destined to be a lonely one, but if you could change that for someone else, then you were going to do your damned best…of course you had to chose a more complicated person but it wasn’t as if you were a terribly lucky person.

Lalo didn’t take his eyes off the road, and it wasn’t until the car stopped that you realized you were outside your little apartment building. Lalo tapped on the steering wheel for a moment, then he turned in his seat to face you.

“You mean that?” He asked, turning his gaze to you.

You went to open your mouth but he gave you a look that pinned you to the spot. He didn’t need to say anything for him to convey “don’t fuck around with me.”.

“You seem to be a busy man, Señor…maybe a wife or even a family,” You mused aloud while you ripped a piece of napkin. Your distracted gaze meant you missed how Lalo’s nostrils flared when you mentioned him having a family, “You must have a comfortable life…one way or another. But not everyone has that. A lot of people don’t. I…I don’t have much…my work is my life right now. Sure they’re not the most lively people to engage with but my patients mean a lot to me…because they take up a lot of my life…and after- well…right now I don’t mind it.” You said with conviction, then sighed, “Sounds sad now that I say it aloud…but don’t doubt me.” You turned to look at Lalo in those dark eyes of his, “Don’t you dare doubt me.”

As you spoke, Lalo’s mouth faded into a firm line under his moustache. But even then, his eyes glittered. He was quiet for a few moments, then he hummed.

“You got a mouth on you, kid.” He rumbled.

You held his stare for a moment. You were certain you had crossed a line with telling him off.

Then, just when you were certain he might jump on you or worse, he broke out in a laugh and smile, smacking the wheel in amusement, “I see why Hector likes you. You got a bite for being a ratoncito…I’d hate to see someone knock your teeth out.” He dropped your keys in your hand and in one fluid motion opened his door and stepped out.

His sense of humour was borderline morbid, but seeing him smile while saying it more reassuring than him not.

You followed suit, and stepped out of the car; Lalo joined you on the sidewalk as he seemed to inspect the neighbourhood. Then as he stood there with his hands at his sides, you remembered that he had no way of getting back to his own car at the nursing home.

“I- Thank you for driving me home, Señor…can I- can I call you a cab?” You didn’t know what else to say. This man had practically interrogated you, bought you dinner, and drove you home. You didn’t know what to do with an interaction like that; we’re you supposed to run and hide or thank him?…or both? You didn’t know why, but regardless of his intentions, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to be scared of him…not really. He was intimidating and imposing, certainly, but it wasn’t as if he was threatening you.

You hated that you couldn’t come to a concise evaluation of the man.

Lalo shrugged and looked down at you. “Nah.” He said playfully.

Your brows scrunched up in confusion and you were about to protest, but then a red car pulled up almost directly behind him with the same man who had been standing with him that first day. Nacho? Nacho.

“Señor Lalo?” You called as he opened the door. The older man turned to you and looked at you expectantly.

“What, still hungry?” He replied.

You forced yourself to look him in the eye.

“If you insist upon giving Hector alcohol…I suggest the second to last table on the patio towards the west. Much fewer eyes.” You said simply.

Lalo smiled widely and pointed his index finger at you. He did that often, you noticed. “I’ll pour you one next time, eh?” He laughed.

You smiled a little. “I don’t think that would end well.”

“I look forward to it!” He smiled even wider and you pursed your lips to keep from returning it. You didn’t want him to know that he was wrapping you around his finger whether you liked it or not.

Lalo sat in the the car, and he waved briefly before they pulled away and left you there with your head still reeling. You didn’t even remember walking up to your apartment or undressing or getting into the shower…but there you were under the warm stream of water trying to understand and rationalise what had just transpired. You were frightened, then at ease, then thankful, then suspicious, then open, then…you head spun. You had become to accustomed to your little quiet bubble with minimal interactions outside of it…and this man had forced his way through it like a freight train.

And what frighted you the most was that you didn’t want him not to.

Your hands shook as you remembered the last time someone had seemed so charming and sweet. You rolled your eyes.

Arms length. You would keep this man at arms length- just like you did with almost everyone else.

Three weeks passed before you saw Lalo Salamanca again.

It wasn’t as if you expected to see him often, or even at all…but the man had a certain way about him that made you miss his presence. He was so all-consuming and confident that it was noticeable when he wasn’t there. You also noticed how Hector’s mood began to drop again. You didn’t blame him.

In an attempt to make the man a little easier to handle, you started teaching yourself some simple Spanish when you had the time. It helped greatly that several clients and staff members spoke it well, and they humoured you in teaching you a few things each day. You supposed they were mostly taking pity on you, but you didn’t mind too much.

You started to feel a little more normal since coming to the scorching city…like you were starting to grow away from where you had run from. You even made a joke that made Jim laugh.

In the back of your mind, you did feel something odd though. Like there was something in your peripheral that you just couldn’t catch. You had sworn that you’d seen the same car on your route for a few days…but you also knew that your paranoia was still very present.

By the second week, you begun to notice how much the language helped around the home. Staff taught you basic things that you said day to day, and your patients helped with more conversational language…your empty head was thankful for the distraction and soaked it up like a sponge. You were tired of the nervous and stressful thoughts that usually occupied the space.

It was early on a Friday when you heard the unmistakable sound of Hector’s bell ringing. You hoped it was that he had gotten his favourite breakfast and not that he had been seated beside someone he didn’t like- you gadnt had enough coffee yet to deal with angry seniors.

There was very little to do following breakfast as the clients enjoyed some free time before activities started; you indulged your curiosity and followed the ringing sound. You sought it out until you came to the patio, and you felt a tiny smile on your lips when you looked past the array of wheelchairs and nurses; there at the second to last table sat two very engaged Salamancas facing away from the entrance you came from.

You saw Lalo give his uncle the occasional sip from the styrofoam cup on the table, and you already knew that was no vitamin mix in there. As you inconspicuously made your way over, checking on a few clients as you went, you began to notice just how tense Lalo seemed from behind. You didn’t want to think that you knew he body language perfectly, but for someone who was usually aloof in his mannerisms, having tight shoulders was far more noticeable.

You slowed your steps once you got closer; they were in conversation. A one sided one but you knew they communicated regardless of Hector’s muteness.

Then you made the poor decision to listen. Your Spanish was very juvenile, but you had come to pick up on a lot - especially phrases and words that were similar to English. Which was why you started to realise that what you were listening to Lalo say was not meant to be heard by anyone but his Tio.

With what you knew and could piece together, you heard a few words that sounded familiar enough; secreto, hombre pollo, establecimiento, restaurante, and quemar. The last one you knew very well thanks to an elderly woman named Pricilla pouring hot tea into the lap of an elderly man named Jerry -evidently his admission of love to her was false and she found out- and his cries of “Quemar!” still rang in your ears. Your mind worked to add everything together and from what you could gather was that there was a restaurant of some kind that could very well end up burned to the ground…and you were fairly certain that Lalo disliked the owner or manager.

Hector’s dinging continued, and you could almost taste the tension growing.

You were about to take the last few strides right up to them, but one word stopped you.

…Cártel.

Every muscle in your body froze simultaneously.

It was no confirmation, but it might as well have been.

It fit.

The respect Hector seemed used to, the rumours, Nacho standing like a guard dog, the lack of visitors, the sudden admission of Hector into the home, the low conversations…you thought back to when he had driven you home and added intimidation tactics to the list. The wad of cash in Lalo’s pocket too.

Then, you felt yourself unclench and a morbid sense of peace washed over you. It wasn’t as if you were reassured; it was that you were still alive. It didn’t mean a lot, but it meant that they either liked you, or had a better use for you…and by god you hoped that use was simply to look after Hector and not to swallow baggies of drugs to smuggle across the border.

And of all people, you had chosen them to befriend.

“There she is!”

You refocused your eyes and as your gaze landed on the man with the skunk stripe on his temple, you let a polite grin grace your features. He was half turned in his chair to greet you- that smile already pulling under his groomed moustache.

“Señor Salamanca, I see you’re enjoying your special juice.” You gave both men a knowing look, then turned back to Lalo, “Señor Lalo, it’s been a little while since I saw you last. I hope you’ve been alright.” You heard yourself say.

You supposed there was no point in trying to run. They had you, and you had let them reel you in; there was no reason to be cold to them. It wasn’t as if you were a cookie cutter Mary-sue yourself.

“Ahh you know how it is…la vida es una locura.” He waved his hand aloofly, resting his arm over the back of his chair. You noticed that he did not elaborate nor answer your query.

“I think I have an idea.” You confirmed both his English and his Spanish.

The easy smile on Lalo’s face seemed to go still. It no longer reached his eyes, and you took a little reckless satisfaction in that.

“Really?” He asked with a prodding tone. You had a feeling he was quick to catch your double meaning.

You smiled tightly, adjusting Hector’s chair since his nurse hadn’t. “Truly.” You replied. “You must be busy…Business doesn’t run itself, I’m sure.” You were walking on ice, and you knew it…but you enjoyed poking at the beast a little.

Lalo’s lips parted at your quip, then he barked out a laugh and pointed at you, “You got some eyes on you.”

You couldn’t remember the full story of Icarus, but you knew he died because he flew too close to the sun regardless of his fathers warnings…and you felt very much like that foolish Greek man. Lalo was a scorching flame and you were standing far too close.

“Always good to see you, Señor Lalo…enjoy your visit.” You nodded to Hector who had been watching the exchange between the two of you, and he dinged his bell at you once.

“Adios.” Lalo gave you a two fingered wave, and you excused yourself.

As soon as your back turned from them, your hands began to shake; adrenaline moved through your blood like a poison or antidote. You didn’t know which.

Jim passed by you with a greeting smile and nod, and you schooled your face quickly. “Could you take Thomas into the bingo room? It’s 2:30.” He said to you, and you welcomed the task to ground you.

“Sure thing.” You murmured.

You didn’t fully remember the rest of the day- you were too busy trying to remember everything you had heard Lalo say to his Tio…jotting things down on sticky notes with poor spelling and guessed words. You almost felt…responsible for what you heard. You knew you were in deep, and you knew that by being curious you were digging yourself even deeper, but somehow you couldn’t stop. It was a sick need to know exactly what you were dealing with.

The day ended like every single one before it; you were exhaused and aching and only had a few thoughts in your head and most of them were of how comfortable your bed would be once you got home. The only difference that day was your anxiety over the notes you had made that day- hoping you didn’t forget any.

You swore under your breath when your keys once again were caught on something in your bag-

“Fancy seeing you here, niña.”

Your head snapped up despite you trying to keep yourself as calm as possible. You swore the older man just liked making you jump.

“Do you practice those lines in the mirror Señor Lalo?” You asked softly, tilting your head up to look at him; Lalo was leaned against your car just as he had taken to doing now.

“You wound me!” He gasped, placing his hand on his chest.

“How long have you been out here?” You asked, standing almost toe to toe to him as he refused to move from his place.

You knew he likely wanted something, and he was using his perfected charm and relentlessness to get it. You internally braced yourself for him to tell you to get in the car again…that he knew you knew more than you let on…and that you should make peace with whatever god you had before putting an extra hole in your head. You didn’t want to think the worst of him and his family, but if that did indeed happen, you wouldn’t be shocked.

But Lalo didn’t move, and he didn’t say anything at first. His smile didn’t falter, though it did lower a little to sit comfortably under his moustache. You watched as he unfolded one of his arms from across his chest and extend his hand to you- what was in it more specifically. There was a little yellow piece of paper folded between his forefinger and middle finger.

“No bedtime stories alright?” He pointed at you with a teasing and cheeky grin on his mouth as he winked down at you.

You took the paper, and felt his skin brush yours for half a second- he was warm. You chose to ignore that, and you focused on unfolding it. It was just a number. His. He had given you his phone number. A cartel phone number. Your brain started reeling again. Then, as you looked at it, you make a mental note that the writing was slanted the opposite way than you usually saw, then you thought for a moment.

He was left handed.

You grinned to yourself at the realisation. You didn’t know why you saved that information, but it made the enigmatic man in front of you seem more human- like knowing he had a belly button or that he had baby teeth that fell out at one time. It was perhaps childish but you liked knowing more about him.

“I-…Thank you.” You said as you placed it neatly into your purse. Once upon a time you would have refused the number and told him it was alright- that you didn’t need it, that if he wanted to get in touch with Hector he could go through the home….but you supposed you knew better now. You knew he didn’t take no for an answer, and you supposed you should show some respect to him for giving you something so personal.

“Atta girl. Don’t work too hard, eh?” He finally moved out of your way and began back to his own -much nicer- car.

“Likewise!” You called to him and he seemed pleased with your answer as he smiled.

You watched the older man get inside his Monte Carlo, and you mirrored him. Your car was hot and the seat radiated unwanted warmth into your back, but you could barely focus on that. You pulled out, and passed his as you went to the exit. Lalo watched you go, and while you waved, he returned it with two fingers extended up from the wheel.

You knew you had errands to run, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to. The notes you had made yourself were burning holes in your pockets, and your want to know what they meant was outweighing your need for groceries and laundry detergent.

In fact, you were so preoccupied with getting home that you didn’t even notice the car that was following you; just as it had been for weeks.

The sticky notes sat arranged neatly on your floor, and your computer stared back at you as you considered your options.

Option 1: try to find proper translations of what was said and risk knowing too much and possible death.

Option 2: tear the papers up and pretend you heard nothing and act like the Salamancas are just an honest business owning family…and possible death because you were naive and didn’t know what you were getting into.

You felt your eye twitch.

Both such tempting options.

But the more you thought, the louder that one word became.

Cartel.

You really know how to pick ‘em y/n…

You sighed and rolled your shoulders as you began typing. You knew that whatever translator you could find wouldn’t be perfect, but you just needed enough to understand. The English to Spanish dictionary you had bought two weeks ago sat open beside you are you poured over the notes you had made. The more you typed and searched and double check, the more your mind began to race- evidently there was indeed more to that family than you had anticipated when you initially befriended their patriarch.

You stared at the translated sentences now, and heaved a sigh.

“We need to burn that restaurant to the ground. I’ll burn it like last time, uncle.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“The chicken man’s establishments are blinding him, can’t see past his greed.”

“He thinks his secret is so fantastic.”

You knew they weren’t perfect translations, but you got the message. There was unrest, and Lalo was sent to deal with it. Whoever this “chicken man” was, he was causing problems.

You let your eyes glaze over as you started to think.

A restaurant.

You checked your notes.

“Restaurants.” Plural.

So a chain of restaurants.

With chicken?

Chicken was a code name? No…Lalo wouldn’t do code names…he mocks people and pokes at their weaknesses, but he’s not the CIA or FBI. He was being literal when he called him the “Chicken man.”

Did he smuggle drugs in chickens? Use it as a cover?

Chicken is their speciality?

You stared at your original note with Spanish.

“Los pollos” …you had seen that somewhere before. You felt your brain stretch as you tried to recall. A restaurant…Los pollos…you started to run the two ideas around in your mind.

Restaurant…Los pollos…restaurant…Los pollos-

Your head snapped up and you frantically scrambled over to your pile of spam mail that you had been ignoring. You knew that name. You did.

You grabbed a chunk of the mail and started sifting through it carefully, scanning every new cellphone, ever greasy pizza place, every-

Your hand gripped blue and yellow ad a little tighter.

The two chicken logo stared back at you.

Los Pollos Hermanos.

No. There was no way.

You couldn’t help the little laugh that came from your chest- either from stress or shock, you weren’t sure. Perhaps a mix of both.

You had driven past it a few times. It was always so clean looking, and you remembered the nice smell you always caught through your window when you passed by it.

You were about to tell yourself that you were being delusional, and that you were too invested in this…but then you supposed the saying of “it’s always the quiet ones” could apply to more than just people. Nice, cookie-cutter restaurants could perhaps be fronts for a drug dealing cartel.

The initial shock began to wear off, and you slowly started to look over what else you had translated.

“I’ll take care of it.” Lalo had said.

Burn the restaurant down, more like…

You wondered what he was capable of. Had he killed people? How many?

Your thoughts strayed to the man himself.

Trouble. That was what you first thought of him.

You thought about his charm and charisma…how he carried himself. He was a confident man in every sense. He adapted his tactics to fit the people he wanted something from…you knew he used it on you too. He was kind and a little pushy but not enough to scare you. He bought you food and drove you home with no immediate expectation…he made you smile and welcomed you. He made you feel seen. Criminal or not…he saw you.

A stupid idea crossed your mind. You knew you were in deep already, and with each passing day it was as if you took a shovel and continued to dig deeper. The thought you had was fuelled purely by your own involvement with the Salamancas and juvenile selfishness.

A stupid impulse to help the two people who made you feel like a human.

Without another thought, you grabbed your bag, checked the stove clock, and were in your car within 5 minutes. You didn’t even bother the change. The route that took you by Los Apollo’s was almost muscle memory, and you were able to let your mind wander as you went. Anything to keep you distracted from what you were doing.

It was closing time once you reached the restaurant. Lights were being shut off, and you could see several workers leaving, and a few more mopping the floors. As you pulled into a parking spot across the street to watch, you noted that there was a level of order to the way duties were carried out. It was methodical and you wondered what kind of training these kids went through…

Every so often, you would see an older man come out to the front and inspect something. His back was straight was he moved just as carefully as the staff cleaned; he was in a yellow dress shirt and tie- nothing significant. The manager or owner you assumed. Your interest was peaked.

You sat there for two hours until almost every single person left. Almost. You waited an extra 20 minutes before leaving, and you were glad you did. If you had left after that those two hours, you wouldn’t have seen that same older man you have observed off and on for 120 minutes exit the building, only now he resembled almost an entirely different person. He was in a sharp black suit, and the change had you so distracted that you didn’t even catch the bulky, black SUV pull in around where the man stood off to the side of the building. Of course, it could have just been nothing- it wasn’t up to you to judge what someone looked like or did after work…but things were clicking together far too easily for you to just gaslight yourself into thinking everyone was Mr.Rogers.

After what you heard Lalo say, you felt your gut sink as you decided that you were indeed not looking at an average business owner. Your I tuition had let you down before, but something about the heat of Albuquerque had you seeing people much more clearly…and if Lalo wanted this man gone, then you had a sneaking suspicion that was a big deal.

The black SUV drove away with the man in it, and you decided that was enough for one night. All at once, your suspicions and thoughts and curiosities were all but confirmed; all you needed was a sign on that man’s back that said “You were right”. You drove home, and welcomed the sight of your small apartment. A morbid part of you half expected someone to be waiting for you when you got back…someone who saw you watching…or perhaps even Lalo himself- perhaps you had become a loose end? But there was nothing. No one waiting for you…just your quiet 400 square feet. Your thoughts were whirling, and sleep seemed like a far away fantasy as you sat on your couch and stared at a crack in the paint.

You had indeed gotten mixed into something far bigger than you- there was no denying that anymore. However, now that you had very nearly completely solidified everything you had wondered, you knew there was no chance in backing out now. You could certainly play dumb for a while…but Lalo was so smart it scared you, and he would figure it out sooner or later.

So you kept digging.

Against your better judgement, you repeated your stakeout the following night. You sat there with a container of takeout, and watched closely. Just like the night before, the business ran, closed, was cleaned and shut up like clockwork.

Methodical.

Careful.

It was fascinating.

This time, however, that older man you had watched last time left in a car already parked there, and it looked far more civilian. You supposed it would draw suspicion if he constantly left work in a black suv. You almost laughed. It was all so ludicrous.

You felt like you were having a strange dream instead of your more constant nightmares. It was far more enjoyable but no less concerning. Where you usually woke up with a tight chest and heart beat so fast it hurt; sweat on your skin and hair sticky, you hope that perhaps if this was a dream that you might wake up and laugh at the idiocy of it all. How silly you were in it. But the more you sat there in your car, and as you drove home, and showered and ate and stared out your window…you started to realise that you were in no dream.

You really were being an idiot. A stupid, impulsive traumatised idiot.

Two days went by after your last visit to the restaurant. Two days of contemplation.

You knew why you were doing those things. You did. But you still found yourself asking yourself why. It was like you craved the anxiety or the adrenaline that came with doing something you know could end badly. What did that say about your mental state?

The file in your hand sat open as you stood behind the reception desk. You had been trying to focus on reading it for two minutes but your eyes repeatedly unfocused as your mind strayed. You just needed to check one of the client’s family member’s number, but you couldn’t seem to even pull yourself together enough for that. You blew the strand of hair that had come free and hung in front of your eyes for the fifth time; you had given up trying to move it.

You heard the main door open and you briefly looked up out of habit, but you took a second glance when you saw that familiar face walk through.

“Good morning Señor.” You said, brows raised in surprise as something stirred in your chest at the sight of his confident strides. This was the first time you had actually seen him enter- most of the time it was like he just materialised out of nowhere.

Lalo rounded the desk to where you were coming out and leaned against it. “Do you know that they’re charging 25¢ more for parking here? It’s criminal, man.” He shook his head.

His statement made a little smile escape you but you schooled it fast.

“I apologise, would you like a word with the owner?” You asked with a little sarcasm, “I’m sure you could talk some sense into him.”

He nodded as if weighing the option, then waved it off and looked around the foyer. “How’s my tio?” He asked calmly, “The old dog up yet?” Lalo looked back at you and flicked his gaze between your eyes. You couldn’t look away. Caught.

You finally tried to tuck the stay hair away again to no avail, and swallowed, “He’s in the activities room. He tipped two full cups of juice over this morning already to look at nurse’s asses when they bent over.” You said as straight faced as you could, though the image had made you giggle to yourself earlier.

Lalo chuckled, “Ese perro viejo no cambia...no harm done, eh?” He reached out and tucked the piece of your hair back behind your ear, then casually started to walk in the direction of the activity room and you took that at your cue to follow him. You had gone still when he had touched you, and you did your best to not let on how shocked you were by the gesture.

Lalo was speaking about something, but while you wanted to listen, you couldn’t quiet find it in you to pay attention. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interesting, or that you didn’t care…it was that you had a startling realisation. You had missed him. That was what you had felt when you saw him…it was happiness. The pleasure of seeing him again. Then when he had moved you hair, you realised how badly you had wanted to lean into his palm.

It startled you.

You scolded yourself. It was a a fantasy. That was it. You were just latching onto him because he spoke to you…hell you might have done the same to the greeter at a supermarket if he was nice enough. It was silly. Just like you.

You walked quietly until you came close to the door, then you stopped and let him go ahead. “Disfrute de su visita, señor.” You said, and the older man paused. Lalo turned to you, but you were already starting to walk past him.

“Gracias, Niña.” He called and you turned and nodded.

You didn’t turn around again, but Lalo watched you walk away for a moment. You didn’t need to see him to know it- his gaze burned. The older man stood there for a moment longer and flexed his hand. You were trouble.

That night, you sat in your car, parked on the street just out of the ring of the fluorescent street lamp light; eyes unfocused, medical mask in hand. It was 3am, and you hadn’t slept a wink. All you could think of was what you were very ready to do.

Another ten minutes went by before you refocused your vision and blinked. You looked across the street, and stared at the empty restaurant. It had been vacant for hours- the only movement you saw were the odd couple pulling into the parking lot for a quick drunken blowjob. Besides that, it was just you and the task you had given yourself.

Breaking and entering wasn’t a skill you appreciated having…but thanks to your ex, you did. He had taken to harvesting copper wires when money got tight…and he had always coerced you into coming with him despite your discomfort and anxiety. “You n me, baby, c’mon.” He would say as he dragged you out of the car. But you always had the sense that it was only you and him until you got caught. Asshole.

You sighed and threw your door open. You might now have known a lot, but you knew how to open a lock and mess with wiring without getting yourself fried in the process. That was enough.

With those old wire-cutters of yours in hand and mask on, you threw up your hood, and moved with the shadows. You rounded the restaurant, and snuck to the back where the staff entrance was locked up well. You half wished that the lock would have been enough to deter you…that you didn’t know how to pick a lock at all. But it didn’t, and you did.

You reached into your pocket, and took a couple small gadgets that you still had from the asshat, and began fiddling with the thick padlock. Your heart was thudding in your ears while you worked away.

What are you doing?

You screamed at yourself mentally, wishing you had an answer to your internal question but you came up with nothing. Only that you needed to do something.

Click

A sigh of relief huffed from your mouth when the lock popped open. Your shaking hands quickly slid it out of place, and you were about to push on the door when you wondered if they had a security alarm set in place. It was entirely possible. But you knew you had your hands covered in gloves and your car not too far if the cops were alerted.

You decided that even if there was an alarm you had enough time to run. With another deep breath, you tugged on the handle of the door, and pulled. To your good fortune, there was indeed no additional alarm.

Once the relief faded, and your focus returned, you made quick work of finding the electrical box. It was on the wall just down from the back door. You thanks god that it was small. You carefully opened it, and stared at the web of wires and switches that greeted you. You groaned a little, and looked at the pliers in your hand, then back at the wires. Your hands trembled more now than you recalled they used to. You supposed your body was forced not to show weakness in front of him…

You shook your head. “Focus.”

Just to be safe, you flicked off a few of the switches that looked to be connected to the wire sets you were eyeing as your target. The last thing you wanted was to get zapped and pass out. It wasn’t as if you were going to clip any…you didn’t want things to completely stop working. Just a few mistakes that would cause a big enough issue for the restaurant.

A half hour passed before you were finally content with the work your had done. Indeed, the web of wires before you now had exactly three faults that would slowly weaken and cause issues throughout the restaurant. Machines not working, and if left long enough they would likely cause a fire. It would mean a plethora of further issues too if an anonymous tip was called in regarding a poor and unsafe work environment.

With a deep breath and a few prayers, you flipped the power back on. The emergency light turned on and the box in front of you fizzed for a moment with the newly damaged wiring, but to your relief nothing exploded.

Your nerves started to come back now that you were finished. You flicked your eyes around and patted yourself down to ensure you left nothing behind, but just as you were doing so, you heard voices. A shot of fear surged through you, and your fight or flight kicked in. The latter won. You were out the back door within seconds and snapping the lock back into place as your mind went into hyperdrive. Your blood ran cold as you heard footsteps rounding the building; you breath felt too warm against your mask and your fingers barely managed to get the lock in place before you had to bolt. You hid in the shadows and crept along the side of the building until you could see your car and you ran. Your heart beat as fast at your legs were moving, and you didn’t stop until you were behind the wheel, and driving away. You felt like you were missing something, but you couldn’t stop to check even if you wanted to.

The sun had risen long ago, and you half wished you had to get ready for work…anything to get yourself busy and distracted from what you had done that night. It was a warm afternoon, and your hands were clammy as you sat on your couch with your phone sitting in front of you and the thick Albuquerque phonebook beside your thigh.

Just pick it up. Pick. It. Up.

Pick it up.

Pick-

You sighed and scratched your head before snatching the receiver up dialling the number you had your finger on in the phonebook.The ringing set your nerves alight as you waited. The monotonous tone lulled your for a moment, so when someone picked up, you almost jumped out of your skin. The person greeted you and introduced themselves with a name you didn’t hear. “How can I help you?” They asked.

You swallowed, but you had to do this unless you wanted the problem you had created to get even worse. “Hello, I-I’d like to make a complaint regarding unsafe working conditions? No, I’d like to remain anonymous please…Yes…yes that’s right. Huh? Oh, at Los Pollos Hermanos.”

“BELOVED LOS POLLOS HERMANOS UNCOVERED”

It was on the front page two days later. Evidentially a tip had been called in that there was severe malpractice in the restaurant, and after a health inspector had been sent…they had found exactly that. Issues with basic wiring- a truly unsafe working environment. Due to something so simple being so wrong, every other aspect of Los Pollos was thus being investigated, and the business had been shut down until further notice.

It was the talk of the nursing home when you came to work, and you forced a look of surprise as people groaned about it. However, while you did feel a small sense of guilt…you couldn’t hide the creeping satisfaction that began to settle in you. It had worked.

There was the tiniest secret smile on your face that got you a few strange looks, but you brushed it off with a “I just slept well.” A part of you was mortified that you had done such a thing…worrying that somehow they knew it was you and that police officers would pull up at any moment to arrest you…but it never happened.

You carried on your day like any other, and you began to seek out Hector in hopes that he had somehow heard what had happened…or perhaps that you could tell him yourself. Then as you walked, you began to feel worry creep into your thoughts.

What if I crossed a line?

What if I ruined one of their plans?

What if Lalo had wanted to be the one to take care of the restaurant?

You started to wring your hands as you walked out to the patio, but your head snapped to a table where you heard a laugh you knew very well. There was no coincidence that Lalo was sat there with his uncle that day- you knew that. And judging by the ringing of Hector’s bell, he was in a good mood.

You weren’t sure that you were ready to speak to him after what you had done…you were filled with so much uncertainty. If he didn’t like what had happened then he would likely track down who had done it and when he found you…that would be it.

You took a deep breath and went to walk back inside, but you were stopped short when a whistle caught your attention. You hated how fast you stopped and turned to it.

Sure enough, that man with the devious smile was staring at you openly with a friendly wave. You hoped to god that he was genuinely happy and not just luring you in. With one last internal whimper, you began across the patio and came to the two men.

“Buenas tardes Sr. Salamanca…Señor Lalo.” You nodded to them both, but you noticed that Lalo simply refused to take his glittering eyes off you- mirth swimming in them.

“Beautiful day, no?” He beamed mischievously, gesturing to the cloudless blue sky.

His charm was still very much in place, and you counted that as a good start, but you knew his mood could change on a dime.

You looked out at the saturated sky, “It is. You seem to be in an extra good mood today, Señor.” You said, then bent down to Hector to gently ask him if he was comfortable or needed water. He didn’t ding he bell, so you assumed Lalo had already done those.

“You ever see what a mouse can do in a house, niñita?” Her asked, still smiling.

You thought for a moment, “Y-yeah I have.” You said, recalling when mice got into the basement of your childhood home and ate through the Christmas decorations.

“They scurry around and get into everything but you never fucking see them. Fast, y’know? Chew through everything…pequeños bastardos destructivos…” he chuckled and shook his head, “I have a…very strong sense that there is a little mouse…right here in this city.” Lalo leaned forward on the table- his forearms flexing. “Causing some serious damage too.” His gaze was heavy and intense. You found yourself starting to feel afraid, but you did your best to keep it at bay.

“A- a mouse, señor?” You asked.

He hummed, “You know what the thing about mice is though, niñita?”

You tentatively shook your head.

“They make tremendous pets.” He grinned.

“I-I suppose you’re right.” You hoped your skin blanching wasn’t as visible as it felt.

Lalo chuckled and leaned back again, and you released a breath. “Someone made a fool out of some competition of ours…their tactics reminded me of a pequeño ratón, you know?”

“Oh?” You asked as casually as you could.

“Yep.” He popped the “p”, “There’s this restaurant which, admittedly is pretty good,” he began joyfully, “And you’ll never guess what happened to it.”

You shook your head and shifted a little.

“Tell me.” You said, hiding your shaking hands behind your back.

“Got shut down.” He said like it was a huge secret, “Yeah, something about a wiring issue. Morons,” he shook his head, “Crazy eh?”

“Yeah…who would’ve thought.” You agreed, mirroring his shock.

“Yeah. Bonkers.” His smile faded from his eyes, but remained on his lips. But there was no anger there, which you counted as a positive thing.

Silence settled over you and you started to squirm. “It’s a good thing though…isn’t it?” You couldn’t help yourself from asking. You needed to know what he thought…whether you should say your goodbyes to this world or if you could actually breathe.

Lalo smiled again. “Sí, algo muy bueno.”

Your ears started ringing as his words settled into your brain.

He wasn’t furious.

He wasn’t vengeful.

You nodded, trying not to show how relieved you were. “Well…it might be unfortunate for that business but I hope your family does well in the meantime.” You sighed as calmly as you could, and picked up an empty cup on the table- anything to hide your trembling hands. “It’s always good to see you Señor Lalo…until next time. Sr. Salamanca your nurse will come get you in twenty minutes alright? Please don’t try and make her deaf this time…” you added after having the memory of the woman yelling every time she spoke for three hours following Hector ringing his bell non stop for 15 minutes. Poor thing could barely hear.

“Adios, niñita.” Lalo murmured just loud enough for you to hear it, and you cast him one last look before you left. You were certain you would never get accustomed to his stare.

The remaining part of the day passed in a blur. Before you knew it the next shift of workers were signing in and you were signing out. The receptionist on that evening bid you goodnight, and you finally felt yourself fall back into your body.

You said a few goodbyes on your way out the door, and you absentmindedly played with your keys. You ran the day over in your head, and while you did feel relieved that Lalo wasn’t angry…you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You swore you forgot something when you had …when you had gone to the restaurant. You hadn’t had the wits to look over everything when you got home, so you were hoping it was just some remaining guilt in you still festering.

There was a light breeze that night. It crept up your spine and tickled your cheeks. You breathed it in as you climbed into your car, and you let yourself relax a little as you pulled out and drove home.

Your building came into view but just when you were climbing out, a body came right up in front of you- caging you between your door and the sidewalk.

“Hola pequeña!”

You stared up, and felt your cheeks warm at the proximity to the older man - his grey streak prominent in the golden setting sun. You felt your skin prickle with goosebumps and your fingers tingled as you fought to find something to say.

You forced a small smile despite how flustered you were, “H-hello Señor.” You said softly.

“Just the person I was looking for. How lucky am I?” He smiled- one arm over the open door and the other on the roof. You were stuck.

“Oh I- r-really?” You hated that you couldn’t stop tripping over your words.

His grin only deepened, “Yeah, you know…almost as lucky as I was when a little mouse decided to meddle with that restaurant, hm?”

You stared at him, not knowing what else to do or say. Your anxiety began to creep back as you started to think that the joy he had shown in front of Hector was just an act after all.

“If you say so Señor… I hope no one was hurt.” You managed to say as his warmth and scent radiated into the air around you.

He laughed and shook his head. “Nah not this time…but I will say that whoever did it was a little nervous I think.” He said as if it was a conspiracy, tilting his head just so.

“Oh?” You asked. Not your most genious of replies but your brain was starting to turn into white noise.

Lalo nodded, and you could tell he was feigning concern; his mouth was in a frown but his eyes were filled with amusement. He was playing with you. “Yeah they left their shitty wire-cutters behind.” The older man reached into his back pocket, and you felt yourself blanch.

“I went by there you know…the day after to give my condolences on the unfortunate findings…And I just so happened to find these. Such an amazing coincidence too.” He smiled, wagging the cutters at you as he spoke.

You continued to stare, as if you moving would cause him to blow your head off; you still couldn’t tell if he was pleased by what happened, and each passing moment didn’t seem to help clarify anything.

“Coincidence?” You asked a little breathlessly.

He nodded brightly.

“Yeah, I mean don’t you have a busted pair like these in your car?” Lalo pointed the metal at your vehicle.

He knows he knows he knows he knows-

“I-I I did…been donating some things though I think they were in the last l-load I did. Haven’t seen them for weeks.” You felt your brain working overtime as you fought to find something to convince him with; you were fine with him not knowing it was you even if he was happy about it…but you weren’t leaping at the chance of telling him that it was you and him not being pleased.

But then, Lalo tsked and leaned away, “Too bad…here I was thinking I might owe you a favour. Guess not.” He shrugged and tossed them into the window you now saw was open. You didn’t remember opening it, and you realised he must have opened it when you were working to check if your wire-cutters were missing.

Then you felt your heart sink. He knew you were lying.

You sucked in a breath and shrugged.

“Even i-if it was me…you wouldn’t owe me anything.” You said, holding your ground as he towered over you.

His brows rose comically.

“No? Some say a favour from a Salamanca is as good as gold.” He rumbled. His breath fanned across your cheeks and he readjusted his hand by your head. You felt yourself almost gravitate towards it.

You nodded and tried to ignore how you couldn’t feel your fingers.

“I’m sure you’re right, señor…” you replied, “Tu tío no me odia y has sido generoso…that’s enough for me.”You watched that mirth return. An morbid amusement.

You watched something in his head click ad he pieced things together in two seconds.

“Ah, ella ha estado aprendiendo... Una chica muy lista.” He winked and wagged a finger at you as he stepped away from you and onto the street.

You might not have gotten every word…but you knew there was a little bit of pride in what he said. Like he was amused by you learning and speaking his native tongue.

“My apologies for interrupting your evening. Adiós!” He was out of your space and walking to his Monte Carlo that you somehow missed when you pulled in.

“G-goodnight, Señor.” You watched him walk. There was a certain carefree confidence to the way his arms hung by his sides. You wondered what that was like.

He drove away with a two fingered salute, and you returned the gesture with a little wave. There was a surge of turmoil coursing through you as you pried yourself away from the sidewalk. On one hand, you hoped against hope that he wasn’t buttering you up only to turn around and end your existence…and the other part of you was trying to stop the first part of you from being so naive.

You strode into your apartment like you had soggy socks- slowly and uneasily. You sat on your couch and stared at the wall.

You fell asleep that night just like every other- suddenly and not knowing that you were being watched. Not that you would ever notice. Hector’s men might now have been as intelligent and inconspicuous as Lalo’s own back home, but they did the job. Every night like clock work; they followed you home, watched your window, and stayed quiet about it. It had been months now. At first it had just been to see if you were an informant or a plant…but after a few weeks, some uneventful phone taps and 24 hour shifts later, it was clear that you were just…alone.

Lalo knew your routine better than you did. Knew that you often sat for stretches of time on your bed or couch upon getting in the door…usually not even doing anything. He knew that you only ordered a full meal from a restaurant once every two weeks. He knew that you had nightmares too- sudden crying or screaming in the night had spooked the men stationed outside your window at first…but after a few nights they got used to it. He could still remember his mother having them when he was a boy and his father would disappear for days…her cries from her room. He knew the sound all too well.

You weren’t a threat. Not really. Lalo was still trying to work out how you had managed to get under Hector’s skin…but he had a feeling that your respect for him gave him a familial sense about you. Like a niece. No…no Lalo wouldn’t get rid of you any time soon, not while you still pleased his Tio, and now apparently looked out for the cartel.

When the men had told Lalo about your late night escapade, he had indeed paid a visit to Los Pollos Hermanos…and he admittedly hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time when he found those old shitty wire cutters of yours. He knew you had spirit but he had to admit that he hadn’t expected that of you.

You were this skittish little thing , but the older man couldn’t help but feel entertained at your antics. You were juvenile and fearless despite your anxious nature. So eager to prove something.

So they watched you.

The following few nights after your impulsive crime, the men had taken to start making little bets. Would you do something else crazy? Was it a one time thing? They kept busy.

You were dull, but you were cute, and they didn’t mind.

They knew you never had visitors, so a week later, when they saw a taxi pull up, and a man get out in front of your building they didn’t perk up. They watched him enter, and lazily observed him; it wasn’t until they noticed how he loitered outside the front door until someone left and he caught the door that they looked at him a little closer.

The man disappeared inside, and they were begining to grow bored of waiting to see if anything if happened until your apartment light turned on.

They watched what they could see of you move through your apartment. One of the men had his binoculars in hand, pressed to his eyes to see more, but all he could make out was your door being flung open, and your home going black.

That was enough for them.

One of the men pulled out his phone, and pressed a speed dial, and waited as it rang.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[wonjns]

uncanny ii. resemblance ∯

♡° pairing. . .  lee heeseung x male reader

♡° genre. . . smut, fluff, angst

♡° summary. . . so you ended up with your twin sister’s boyfriend... what a turn of events. heeseung is definitely your dream guy, but little did you expect all of what exactly would unfold once you got him.

♡° includes. . . bottom!reader, even more horny bisexual hee!! lmao, lots & lots of kissing, dry humping, possessive heeseung, finger sucking, car sex (almost), blow job, orgasm prolonging, unprotected sex (dont irl!!)

♡° wc. . . 7k

°A/N. . . requested by many !! months & months later... finally 😮💨, i am so happy to be posting this!! i had no idea that so many of you would enjoy Uncanny, & i never intended on adding a second part. im just so mad it took me so long to write— so i’m sorry guys, i really hope its not awful !!!

                                  . . . .% Part 1 ♡ % . . . .

ㅤ

“so.... you two are now... dating...?”  

three pairs of very beady yet confused eyes lingered before you in your family living room. their glances examined you head to toe, along with a certain 6' ft male who stood beside you. 

you could feel your palm growing clammy in heeseung’s hold as you both timidly nodded, desperate to read the intent behind the deadpanned expression on your parents’ faces.

despite heeseung’s tall and stronger build, he almost felt his weakening knees give from beneath him as he caught eye contact with your sister-- his ex-- who had an ominously suspicious look on her face. he had seen this expression on her quite often, but was never the recipient. it was less than ideal. 

“well, y/n, do you really like him?” your mother chimed, her puzzled tone cracking the silence. 

all you could do was nod once again, slightly more fervently at the question. if only ‘like’ was enough to describe your feelings for the equally-as-nervous boy who stood fiddling with your fingers.  

“and heeseung? do you really like my son?” your father spoke up this time, eyebrows transfixed as he sunk deeper into his leather recliner. 

heeseung found himself only able to offer a shy nod as well, the soles of his shoes feeling as if they were hovering over lava from the heat of the atmosphere. 

“words, son.” your dad sternly quipped. 

it was unbelievable to heeseung how these two adults, whom he'd usually seen as secondary parents, suddenly felt like stone cold, life-sentencing supremes.

“yes–” the poor boy coughed, clearing his throat. “yes sir.” 

the fluttering of your heart after hearing his confession out loud threatened to distract you from the anxiety that surged through your nerves, but one glance up at your sister snatched you back to reality.

you couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening. normally, you and your twin shamelessly spilled everything you thought and felt to one another without a second thought - but you could only feel like shit as your mind resurfaced flashbacks of heeseung working your body in ways you’d only dreamt about, while your sibling, who just so happened to be his former lover, lingered cluelessly outside your room.

you and the older male had debated often after your first hookup whether or not this was something you guys should make public, out of fear of what your sister would think. 

but you knew you were too in love with heeseung– and always have been, to keep things suppressed. especially since neither of you showed signs of leaving what happened as a simple one night stand. so you chose the route of honesty, which lead you to the painfully awkward confession in front of your high council of family members.

“okay.” your mother, sister, and father chirped in a perky unison.

the air shifted, the imaginary weight your shoulders bore suddenly vanishing into nothingness. 

“okay!?” you and heeseung blurted in an equally perplexed harmony.

“yeah, okay!” your sister responded, on her own this time.

she uncrossed her folded arms, picking up the laundry basket she was previously interrupted from lugging to her room. “whatever keeps mr. clingy out of my hair so often. he’s a lot like an abandoned puppy at times, you know... was starting to get a bit draining.” 

“i’m... right here, you know.” heeseung mumbled out in response to your sister’s teasing. you noticed the tint of his cheeks growing red and couldn’t help but softly chuckle.

“honey, don’t be a bully.” your dad replied before your parents emitted a couple giggles themselves. 

“i’m sure what she meant to say was,” your mother started, standing to grab her purse and approach heeseung. “we love having you around. you’ve been a part of this family for some time now, so as long as you take care of our son as well as you did our daughter, there’s no reason for us to not give you our blessing.” 

and with that, she gave heeseung and yourself a quick peck to the cheeks before sauntering out of the room. she was followed shortly by the others, leaving just the two of you motionless as mannequins; both dumbfounded. 

that was... easy. too easy.

the back of your head landed gently against your pillows as heeseung pressed a deep kiss into your lips, giddy giggles escaping the both of you. 

the taller male’s hands casually roamed under your tank top as his mouth nearly swallowed you whole, pliantly groaning as he felt your fingers dance into his locks. his confidence was through the roof, the adrenaline from the confession still running ramped through his bones. 

he rolled his hips flush into yours, smirking into the makeout after absorbing one of your small whimpers. 

“what... even just happened?” you sighed out as heeseung moved to nip at your jaw. 

“i have no fucking clue.” he chuckled between nibbles on your sensitive skin, tracing over the area under your ear with his eager tongue.

you moaned, tugging his head back to reconnect your lips and feel that very tongue glide over yours. you reveled in the feeling of his hands massaging you beneath your shirt, not even the slightest bit surprised when he lifted it high enough to place kisses on your tummy.

“i just don’t- seriously... how did we pull that off??” you babbled, genuinely baffled while heeseung adjusted between your legs into an easier position for planting pecks along your hips.

he hummed into your skin, propping one of your legs around his torso. “i don’t know, i guess we’re way better than we thought.” 

heeseung’s kisses started growing hungrier, and he took the liberty to suck a few marks on the surface of your stomach amidst your confused rambling. your hips started instinctively rolling into his chest, and you bit back a moan from the friction of your member grinding against his solid pecs. 

“seunggie, wait, literally everyone is still home...” 

“so? we got the green light, didn’t we?” the boy taunts before playfully tugging on the waistband of your shorts. 

you chuckle before nudging his hands away, scooting yourself back to sit up against your bed’s headboard. “i think so... but let’s talk about that first.”

heeseung huffed while blinking his gorgeous lashes at you, dramatically hovering above the empty silhouette of where your body was. 

“talk about...?”

“well, the word my parents used. dating.” you uttered as if it were a curse word. 

“you... want to talk about the word ‘dating’?” he questioned, shifting to prop his head up with an elbow. 

“not the word itself, stupid- i just..... i think-” you stumbled, laughing to yourself while also resisting that familiar rosy blush from spreading on your cheeks. "i think if we’re officially a thing...”

heeseung hesitatingly nodded along with your words, his beautiful brown orbs watching you intently as if he was trying to read your mind. 

“then shouldn’t we, like, do the things people who date do before we keep messing around? like,, don’t we have to do that sappy couple stuff before sex?” 

heeseung couldn’t help but release a loud chuckle at your adorableness, attempting to muffle it in a nearby pillow. god, you wanted to at least pretend to be aggravated, but his laugh was just too damn cute. 

“you’ve never dated anyone, have you?” he asked when he eventually finished his cackles. 

“...is it that obvious?” you chime, your signature blush undeniably as present as ever. 

the older boy cooed at you, quickly sitting up and pulling you into the empty space between his lap. he pecked your lips, running his thumb along the bridge of your nose and fondly examining your flustered face, a little too long for your liking, before finally speaking up. 

“i mean, if my baby boy wants a date, then that’s what we’ll do. you’re right, we should get to know each other more first.”

you wanted to melt into a puddle and trickle all over his lap right then and there, and absolutely would if you physically could. you felt small, but protected, under heeseung’s gaze. something about the way he looked at you made your insides ignite with a feeling you’d never felt so intensely before, and you started to realize you were down… bad.

“okay!” you triumphed brightly.

you cupped your hands around his neck, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead before staring back into his eyes. 

“where do you wanna go?” heeseung inquired, nonchalantly leaning back on his arms propped behind him. 

“i don’t know? we just established i’m the one who’s never done this before!” you admitted while shifting your eyes down to his prominent adams apple, grazing your finger over it. 

“fine, it’ll be a surprise. and you’re gonna love it. this friday.”  

everything just sounded so cool coming from him, and he spoke in that careless manner that was just too hot to keep you focused. 

“perfect,” you feigned confidence, having transitioned to fiddling with his hoodie’s drawstrings. “and... no more kissing until then.” 

heeseung let out an exaggerated gasp, eyebrows furrowing at you.

you could only chuckle before being completely tackled back into your mattress, your boyfriend’s lips as relentless as ever. 

so much for that rule. 

two weeks later, you and heeseung were sickeningly attached by the hips— and lips— more than ever. 

the boy had swooped you off your feet in every sense of the term. he took you on your first date, a dual movie-picnic date on his front lawn wrapped in warm blankets (all too cliché, but still didn’t fail to spark a storm of butterflies in your stomach), which led to your second. and then third. and then fourth... and they only got better each time.

after living a long, agonizing year of being secretly infatuated with him, you weren’t sure if it were physically possible to even fall for this guy any more.

yet, you were wrong. 

through solely a few mere weeks, myriad of walks around town, and late night drives, you were seeing so many more sides of heeseung than you could’ve imagined. his charms, humor, honesty, chivalry, and even his flaws. you were taking in all of it. and he was learning so much more about you, beyond the fact of being the former love of his life’s twin brother.

you were growing obsessed with each other, and it showed. at no point in the day could heeseung keep his hands to himself anymore, and you were hardly complaining.

it even came down to the time you had to actually pry his lips from your neck in a public restaurant so that a stunned waitress, the unfortunate soul to serve your table, could finally take your order.

he just loved to show you off;

no matter where you were. 

his tinge of possessiveness was a bit embarrassing at first, but god it was kinda hot. you were so caught up in the total package of lee heeseung that you hardly had sense to worry about anything else; not caring if you were in the seclusion of your rooms or a grocery store parking lot when he would snake one of his hands down your pants to greet your erection.

every little thing he did drove you crazy, and even more so vice versa.

little did you know, heeseung was operating from a slightly different source of obsession.

you sat in the passenger seat of heeseung's red mercedes, soft rnb music playing through your boyfriend's speakers as one of his hands securely held the back of your neck while he lathered your lips in passionate, lustful kisses.

you moaned as heeseung swirled his tongue in your mouth, taking his sweet time in tasting you and using his free hand to guide yours down to his crotch. you were hesitant, but couldn't resist pressing your palm to his member to feel how hard he already was.

heeseung exhaled from the pleasure, wasting no time in maneuvering your hand beneath his waistband. he swallowed a gasp that escaped your lips once he started shamelessly bucking his hips up into your hold.

it took strength, but you willed yourself to break apart from the kiss and give him a nervous look, considering the two of you were parked in front of his parent's house in broad daylight.

"babe," you spoke, catching your breath. "we're about to go inside, we shouldn't."

your boyfriend smirked at you, hearing your warning but noticing how you still hadn't retracted your hand from inside his pants. his eyes also caught the slowly forming tent in your own jeans.

"exactly, that's why we should get this out of the way now." he half whined, needily leaning over into your space and tugging at your hips. "my mom takes forever to get dinner ready, you know I can't wait."

his plush lips were immediately on your neck before you could rebut, him aiming straight for your weak spot. damn, he knew exactly how to kill your resolve in an instant.

you rolled your eyes, partially from annoyance but also from the way he groaned while sucking on your soft flesh. you fumbled a bit, climbing over the center console and settling atop of his thighs. his satisfied grin only grew wider before rushing to capture your lips again, his kisses as addicting as ever.

heeseung's large hands roamed up and down your back as he widened his jaw to deepen the kiss, and quickly settled them on your hips to grind you forwards on his lap.

your arms found purchase on his broad shoulders as you molded your mouths more fervently. heeseung repeated the action in a rhythm, pleased by how simple it was to get reactions out of you.

jolts of excitement tingled through your legs as your clothed bulges ran along each other, the feeling heavenly as you began bucking your hips on your own accord without his assistance. heeseung's hands snuck their way under your shirt and returned to roaming your back. he gently dragged his short nails along your skin, causing goosebumps to grow array all over you.

your own hands began unbuttoning his flannel and dipping under his collar, the familiar smoothness of his shoulders warm on your fingertips, helping settle your anxieties of being seen by the neighbors, or worse– his own parents who were inside the house mere steps away.

you couldn't understand how heeseung always had you in these sort of positions, but judging from the rock hard length pressing between your thighs, he was clearly into it.

heeseung could still feel your nervousness, and leaned back amused as he watched the embarrassment and pleasure battle for dominance on your face. he kissed the tip of your nose and chuckled.

"your sister used to love making out to this song." he mumbled in a low tone, dipping down to wrap his lips around your adams apple while simultaneously turning up the radio's volume.

you could barely register the odd statement as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering closed when heeseung started suckling and licking on the column of your throat in sync with the melodic tune that filled the car. 

it was bliss, but just as you felt yourself drawing close to your high, the sentence rang through your head again.

your sister? this song? in this car?

suddenly, the image of your sister being in your exact same position– which she undoubtedly had been in several times before, flashed through your mind.

it caused you to jolt a little bit. heeseung paid no mind to the sudden action, thinking it was another one of your cute responses to his ministrations.

"uhm... hee?" your hips slowed to a halt, a bit of that familiar guilt settling into you again.

at first you thought it was just mindless sex talk, but as you had delved deeper into your official relationship with heeseung, you caught on to how often he would still talk about your twin, consistently making comparisons and recalling similarities between the two of you.

he wasn't necessarily wrong, but it was getting weirder as it progressed. you had just convinced yourself it was natural due to how similar you were with your sibling, and kept things pushing without dwelling on it for too long.

"hee?" you spoke again, opening your eyes when you hadn't gotten a response.

he hummed against your neck, sloppy kisses never ending in the crook of your neck. you managed to draw back, gently pushing his shoulders to disconnect from his lips. he looked at you quizzically, yet adoration still beaming in his eyes.

"i've been meaning to talk to you about-"

you were cut off by the abnormally loud ringing of his cell phone, which sat lodged in one of the car's cup holders. he sighed, telling you to wait just a moment when he read the caller id.

"hello? yeah mom, we just pulled up. we're coming in now." he exhaled, gently rubbing your thigh.

a huff of disappointment left your nose, but you were semi-grateful you didn't actually have to have the awkward conversion right before meeting his parents.

you gathered yourself back together, clasping the first few buttons of heeseung's shirt back together for him as he flattened the small wrinkles on yours.

he opened the car door, helping you climb out of his lap and onto the pavement, where you readjusted yourself in the reflection of the car's glass.

"after you, prince." heeseung gestured to his home's front door.

"but, it's your house." you responded.

"yeah, but... mom likes it when people make strong first impressions." the older boy grinned.

you took your bottom lip in between your teeth, a pool of nervousness returning to your gut as you realized you really had never met heeseung's parents before.

sure, they were all too familiar with your sister from their year together, but you were an entirely different story - an entirely more complicated story.

you knocked on the large glass front door nervously, heeseung standing just behind your shoulder. he leaned down to whisper.

"they don't take to strangers very well. if you get scared, tap my leg. they can be pretty tough."

heeseung was a liar. 

you had received nothing but beaming smiles and suffocating hugs as soon as you stepped through the door. 

you had prepared to walk into a homophobic hellfire, not knowing what sort of glares and comments would be thrown your way. setting the fact that you were a boy aside, you still had plenty to worry about.

heeseung left a committed relationship, albeit not by his own choice, just to end up with his girlfriend’s brother was quite a unique situation - yet it seems his parents hadn’t even thought about that as they chattered away through dinner table conversation. shit, the wholesome smile you were met with the second his mom opened the door would be tattooed in your mind forever.

“so, y/n dear, heeseung hasn’t been giving you too much trouble now, has he?” his mother asked as she cut her steak into tiny pieces from across the table. 

“our son can be so lazy sometimes,” his dad chimed in with a chuckle. “gotta make sure he’s not constantly slacking off.”

you laughed, feeling like heeseung was being regarded as your new employee. you caught a slight frown on his face from his parents teasing, and you reached up to run your hand through his hair. 

“i guess you could say he isn’t too bad.” 

he looked to you quickly, an adoring smile growing, seemingly grateful you hadn’t joined in his parent’s shenanigans. or so he thought. 

“except for when he takes forever to get out of bed. or to go run errands. or to-”

“alright!” he huffed, frustratingly spooning some food together on his plate.

you all erupted with laughter, he was so cute when he pouted. it was nice seeing lee heeseung, the confident athlete, get all blushy and shy around his parents - his usual commanding demeanor nowhere to be found as he sheepishly shoveled broccoli into his cheeks. yet another side of him you hadn’t expected to see, but made you fall just a little more.

you found yourself in heeseung’s room after dinner, a surprise to no one, after helping his parents clean the dishes afterwards. 

you had taken the opportunity to spend more time laughing and teasing heeseung alongside his parents, so it was no shocker that he quickly whisked you away to his own private space - desperate to have all of your attention fully on him.

you giggled as you were ushered into his bedroom, his hands never leaving your waist until the door was securely shut. 

“your parents are so much fun.” you beamed at the taller boy whose blush still lingered on his face. 

“yeah, probably a little too much fun.” he huffed, walking over and plopping on his bed.

your eyes fondly gazed around his bedroom, surprisingly still somewhat childlike, figurines and pictures of his youth still lining the shelves. a genuine smile grew on your face. you really shouldn’t be shocked, he did often have the tendencies of a big baby.

“you know, mr. lee, you’re not all that of a tough guy.” you commented, reaching up to examine one of his action figures.

“oh, really? what makes you think that?” he chuckled back, discreetly unbuttoning his shirt while you were distracted.

“yeah… i don’t know why you put up the act so often, you’re really just a little softie. like i remember whe-” the words halted in their tracks when you turned to taunt him more, but froze at the view of his toned abs glaring right at you, jeans slightly lowered on his hips. 

“is that so?” he responded lowly, tilting his head to the side. “why don’t you bring that little ass over here and see how much of a softie i really am?” 

his words sent a wave of arousal straight to your cock, which you immediately tried to will from springing to action so quickly.

you let out a half-spirited scoff, trying to appear unbothered as he sat there and widened his legs while staring you down. but damn, the golden evening light that shone through his window was hitting him in all the right places. his solid abdomen lured you in while he lolled his head back, teasing you with the prominent grooves of his neck that had you practically squeezing your legs together. 

damnit, he was temptation personified – too effortlessly hot for you to resist.

before you knew it your legs brought you to stand between his. he cocked an eyebrow before giving you another annoyingly sexy smirk and nodding his chin towards your own top. 

“off.”

your face instantly surged with heat, but you couldn’t help but obey with the sudden authority he spoke with. in seconds your shirt was discarded and on the floor by his feet, a chill crawling across your topless chest. 

“you know, i’m not really a fan of how much you used my parents to tease me tonight,” he said monotonously, raking a warm hand up your exposed torso. “i think you were enjoying it wayyy too much.”

his thumb found one of your perked nipples, rubbing in firm circles. you moaned at the sensation, just to hurriedly cover your mouth with your own hand, the realization that you were at his parents’ house hitting you once again. 

“hee… wait.” you responded, attempting to take a step back. 

heeseung only chuckled before catching you still with his free arm, continuing to play with your sensitive bud. 

“where’s all the laughter now? you were having so much fun earlier, remember? let's keep that fun going.”

your boyfriend then leaned in to run his warm tongue over your other exposed nipple, causing you to hold back another whimper as your hands flew to his hair. he pulled your body closer as he started suckling on the bud, and you didn’t have it in you to fight it anymore. once he started working his mouth on you like this, you were puddy.

you cursed how weak you were to his actions, but even he could sense how badly you wanted him at all times.

“s-someones the jealous type, huh?” you stuttered, sounding way less intimidating than you wanted. “even over your parents, hm?”

he released your bud with a wet pop, dark eyes shooting straight up to yours before returning his lustful gaze to your body. your limbs started to quake with desire.

“how could i not be? when i have all of this just for me…”

both of his hands held your hips as he licked a long, teasing strip up your torso before finishing it with a peck to your chest. he locked eyes with you again, his determined pupils staring deep into your trembling, desperate ones. he enunciated his next words slow and smooth, like honey.

“just… for… me…” 

you pounced first. you couldn’t take it anymore, the alluring mischief in his eyes and addictive touch all over your physique had you grinding your topless bodies together like animals. your limbs entangled with his as your mouths waged war together, the possessive bites against your lips sending your mind into a daze. 

he effortlessly flipped you over, taking the advantage to grind down on you even stronger one last time before working the zipper of your jeans. he stripped the both of you down to your boxers in record time, licking his lips as he watched you begin to palm your own growing bulge - putting on a show for him. 

“you’re going to absolutely kill me.” heeseung muttered, trying to control the raging need surging throughout him.

“your parents might do that for me, if they catch us.” you speak with a newfound confidence, hiding the fact that you were completely mortified of that exact occurrence. 

heeseung chuckled before shimmying your last layer of underwear off, leaving you fully exposed for him as he lowered his own and started pumping his unbelievably large member. 

“we won’t have to worry about it if you can stay quiet, prince.”

you thought heeseung was about to just dive into you raw as he lowered his muscular body to yours, but relaxed when you felt him reach under his pillow to grab a bottle of lube. your eyes grew wide. 

“you planned this!” you gasped, fauxing a complaint.

“shh shhh.” heeseung hushed you, tapping his fingers against your lips. 

narrowing your gaze at him, you didn’t hesitate to trap his fingers between your lips, emitting a low groan from your throat as you ran your tongue over his digits. you successfully caught him off guard, if his quiet gasp was anything to go by, but a sly grin crept on his face.

“naughty boy, trying to do my job for me. are you that excited?” he commented before yanking his digits from your mouth, chuckling at your pout. 

he leaned down to swiftly place a flurry of pecks on your plump lips while lubing his fingers up, right before he reached down to push them into your entrance. you moaned into the air much louder than before, causing his other hand to toss the bottle of lube and clamp your mouth shut. 

“god, baby, do you want them to hear us? control yourself.” he smirked, finding all too much pleasure in the way your eyes rolled back when he began pumping his digits in and out of you.  

a mantra of muffled sounds flew from your mouth into heeseung’s palm, and thankfully so, since your body had already compromised your self control. when he finally pulled his fingers from your ass, you whined at the loss of contact. 

“heeseung, please fuck me already. please.” you breathlessly begged once he removed his palm from your mouth.

again, heeseung mercilessly chuckled down at your state. 

“such a needy boy… so fucked out and i haven’t even done much.” 

you wanted to banter back like you usually would, but this man had already reduced you into such a desperate mess with nothing but a couple minutes and his hands. he learned so quickly how your body worked, and how much of an affect his words had on you. once you were turned on by him, you wanted– needed every ounce of him as soon as you could have him. 

feeling merciful, heeseung lined up his girth with your entrance, pushing in slowly. this time, it was an equal struggle for both of you to keep yourselves quiet, the size of his length and intense look into your eyes causing you to melt while your hole sucked him in so desperately. 

“fuck, fuck. still such a tight ass. my boyfriend really loves my cock, hm?” heeseung grunted, trying to keep himself together when he saw tears of pleasure form at the corner of your eyes.

you nodded your head, unable to form words at the pleasurable pain you felt. your fingers curled into his dark locs as he lowered his head to sink his teeth into your neck, sucking marks there in order to keep quiet. you were fighting with everything in you to not scream and beg him for more, for him to fully consume you. 

“h-hee,” you whined, trying to keep it a whisper. “more.”

your hands sprawled along his toned back, feeling his muscles ripple as he began rutting his hips into yours, releasing deep moans into your neck. the vibration had you feel like you were levitating, a sensation only heeseung seemed to bring you. 

legs sliding along his strong thighs, you wrapped them around his torso as he picked up in speed, your vision blurring over at his power. 

“you’re so sexy, baby. sucking me in so well, making me lose my fucking mind.” he commented between the harsh nips along your jaw, sweat starting to bead around his forehead.  “what if my parents came in here and saw me wrecking you like this? would you like that? my mom seeing me do all of this to you right here after breaking up with your sister.”

you squeezed your legs tighter around his torso as he spoke, causing you to moan out loud once feeling your leaky cock rub against his solid abs. before heeseung could shush you, you clenched down on his fat length while your liquids shot out over his chest - him finding the moment so hot that it was only a second before he was emptying out in you as well. 

he collapsed on top of you after as you both silently gasped for breath, but you welcomed the crushing feeling. 

you couldn’t believe you just screwed him in his childhood room, with his parents just on the other side of the door, praying they didn’t hear you. but knowing how turned on heeseung was by risks, you should’ve known this was gonna be how the night would end.

after just sitting in eachothers embrace for a while, you finally sat up, heeseung leaning over to place even more kisses on your glossed over lips, never getting enough of you. 

“lets get cleaned up and head to bed, prince. my parent’s already know you’re staying the night.” 

“staying the night?” you questioned tilted your head. you saw another sinister glint in his eye as he kissed you one more time.

“yeah, you still gotta meet my grandparents tomorrow.”

you drug your feet through the threshold of your home, utterly exhausted. it had been a long day of class, filled with a suspicious amount of exams and lectures compared to normal, but you were relieved to finally be done with the day. 

heeseung had texted you just as you had begun driving home, telling you he was already at your place helping your dad with chores around the house. you smiled to yourself, still giddy over how perfect he was and thankful for the loving relationship between him and your family – you couldn’t wait to finally see him after such a draining day. 

it was oddly silent as you walked through the house, failing to have found heeseung when visiting your parent’s room in hopes to collapse in his arms as soon as possible. 

you heard giggling rise in volume as you crossed the house and neared your room. you drew closer to your door, hearing muffled sounds just behind it. when you curiously turned the doorknob, the sight of heeseung looming over your twin sister, mouth practically devouring her, caused you to stand frozen - blood running cold under your skin. 

you stood speechless, tears beginning to well as you watched their lips passionately interlock in a noisy makeout just like they had done months before, tongues brazenly running along each other as wanton moans filling the atmosphere. 

you tried to speak but could only choke out a sob, your knees threatening to betray you. heeseung and your sister paused, turning their heads towards you after hearing the sound. they both stared at you pathetically, and simply chuckled before heeseung returned his grip on your own headboard, continuing to thrust his tongue into your sister’s mouth - the latter resuming to claw at your boyfriend’s naked back and moaning smugly.

you were stunned, and wanted to scream, cry, or throw anything you could get your hands on at them… 

but instead, you woke up. 

your body jolted up in bed, met with a dimmed room and a ray of moonlight beaming onto you - reflecting a sheen of sweat on your face. 

glancing around the darkened room, your eyes found the clock at read 1:25 am. not far from your line of sight was heeseung himself sprawled out beside you, softly snoring away with an arm draped over your waist. you noticed you were in one of his baggy shirts, the previously comforting smell almost causing you to grow nauseous. 

you couldn’t control your breathing, stinging feelings of betrayal and embarrassment still burning in your gut from your dream - rather, nightmare.

you let out a deep sigh once you finally realized everything you had seen in your sleep state wasn’t real… everything except the tears. you felt salty droplets drip from your chin and onto heeseung’s arm, who began to stir. 

humiliated, you tried to shuffle back down into your prior position in order to avoid waking up heeseung, failing to soften your fast breathing or stop your flow of tears. 

but alas, as if your uncomfortability set off an inner alarm of his, heeseung had awoken. you felt him lean up on his elbow, arm lazily pulling you towards him. 

“whats wrong, y/n?” he asked in a groggy voice. 

immediately, another stream of tears raced down your cheek at the sound of his voice. it was embarrassing how worked up you had managed to get from a simple dream, but you almost felt sick even being this close to him, although he had done nothing wrong. 

it had finally become too much; your insecurity and constant comparisons to your sister had caught up to you. the continuous chipping away at your rose-colored view of heeseung had ultimately found you, and it hurt like a bitch. your intrusive thoughts were convincing you that you were nothing but a rebound-by-blood, a second best option.

refusing to have heeseung see you like this - a sobbing mess in the middle of the night, you remained facing away from him, not answering his initial call. 

“y/n.” he spoke again, a little more cognisant. he turned your body over, squinting at you through the dim lighting, before his eyes gently widened. “what happened? bad dream?” 

he was right, but it was more so your subconscious so cruelly giving you a visionary of what you had secretly been scared of this whole time. sitting up, you wiped away the wet streaks on your face. 

“heeseung… do you like me?” 

the older male furrowed his brows. “babe, what? i-” 

“im serious. do you like, me?” you insisted, doubt slithering its way onto your expression. 

“where the hell is this coming from?” heeseung sighed, pushing himself to fully sit up. 

“everytime we’re together, you always talk about her. how much i look like her, sound like her, the things i do… the things we do…"

as much as it pained you to finally ask this question out loud, you couldn't keep it in anymore.

"you’re not over my sister, are you?” 

your beady eyes held a tundra of anxiety in them, with heeseung’s almost bulging out of his head. 

“you make me feel like i’m not even my own person, hee.” you continued, voice cracking between sobs. “you’re still hung up on her and you just use me, don't you? just to feel like you’re still close to her.”

heeseung was baffled at your accusation, and was ready to rebut everything, until a wave of awareness crashed over him. his gaze softened, hearing the doubt and self-consciousness in your voice. he turned his body to face you directly. 

“y/n. i won’t lie to you. when your sister dumped me, my entire world felt like it was shattering. i had gotten use to a life with her, and i did have genuinely strong feelings for her… i thought she was my everything.” 

you could feel yet another dam breaking behind your eyelids, closing them shut in order to keep the waterworks from flowing. 

“but,” he spoke firmly, taking both of your hands in his before you could retract them. “i love you, y/n. i love you. when i started seeing you, i did think it would just be a way for me to move on, but you are amazing. so fucking amazing. everything you do, all you've done for others,, i’ve fallen so fucking hard for the person that you are. you’ve made me feel things she never did, and never could. i’m sorry i’d been so caught up on your sister before, i guess i just wasn’t ready to move on as soon as i thought. but there is absolutely nobody i’d rather be with than you… right now, in this moment. i promise you that with every fiber of my entire being.”

with that, the well overflowed, streams of tears treading down your skin and landing on the interlocked knuckles of you and heeseung. you knew telling the truth, his words smashing down and easing away each wall of doubt you had in your mind. 

you were so unbelievably in love with this man, and a tender wave of relief radiated throughout your body when you caught the reassuring smile he gave you, closing the distance to attach your lips in a loving kiss.

the kiss deepened as you grabbed the sides of his face, pouring all of your emotions into the gates of his lips, melting into the comfort of his affection. his long arms wrapped around you and pulled you under him, meeting no resistance. 

he moaned into your mouth when you licked at his lips, letting you in easily. he kissed you sensually, slower than any other time before, refusing to detach your mouths until you absolutely needed to breathe.

“never gonna make you doubt how much i love you again,” he whispered into your neck as he started laying sweet kisses to your soft skin, hands gently roaming every inch of you. 

his supple lips felt like heaven as they followed his path down your body, taking his time to suck marks into every inch as he lowered himself. when he reached your hips he left wet open-mouthed kisses along the waistband of your boxers, looking up at you with his beautiful orbs for permission as his hands tugged at the seams. 

the butterflies returned when you nodded at him, running your hands along the grooves of his biceps. he removed your underwear, not wasting any time in placing kisses to your shaft, chills shooting up your spine at the sensation. his nose poked at your pelvis as he lightly dragged his lips up to your tip, before taking your length whole in his mouth. 

you gasped as the warmth of his mouth, hardly having the energy to react to the pleasure. your head fell to the side of the pillow as your erection was soothed over by heeseung’s talented tongue, flattening along your member licking up and down before he started bobbing his head. 

his large hands kept your body still from squirming as he showed your cock attention, occasionally humming and sending more waves of electricity through your legs. 

“feel s’good… gonna come.” you muttered not long after he started, only causing a satisfied groan to rumble through his throat. 

he released your member and lowered just to prod his tongue at your rim, before suckling gently on your balls and recapturing your cock in his mouth in one swift motion. a couple more strokes of his precise tongue and you were spilling into heeseung’s mouth, shuddering when he didn’t waste a drop. 

he repositioned back above your body, and you had only then noticed he’d slept in just his boxers, his neck chain dangling in front of your face. you ran your hands up his toned torso, once again growing obsessed with the feeling of his skin on yours.

the look of utter adoration in his eyes felt heavy on your form, and you could already feel yourself wanting more when he dipped down to place searing kisses to your jaw and grind your hips together.

“i love you baby, let me keep making you feel good.” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe while reaching down to stroke your member back to attention.

“please, baby. i love you too. and i want you so bad, forever.” you admitted, feeling the breath of a light chuckle against your cheek.

just as you wished, his thick length had entered you, gliding along your walls in no time with a delicious friction that you never got tired of. except this time, more than just desire and arousal, the friction brought a comfort, a feeling of love you could feel surging throughout your whole body.

“you can have all of me, whenever you want, prince. i belong only to you.”

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

[pandoraintheevening]

You (might of) asked so I shall deliver

Not my proudest work, but my teacher liked it so (shrugs).

This place was one of the best and worst times of my life and even though that’s an oxymoron, I stand by my opinion. When I remind myself of this time I don’t know if I should smile or frown and if I do smile guilt swarms in me in small trickling amounts. And after a while of sitting in a small but deep lake, a raging storm would come with all its fury and to my demise I have never been able to control it. Welton Academy was and still is one of the most prestigious boys boarding schools in America. Even when the popularity of these types of schools lowered it somehow won many swooning parents to still send their sons here. Its high standard on tradition and order makes my stomach knot, as it used to do way more frequently before, and its high praise of academic success makes Michael, my son, somehow turn into those swooning parents. My weighted opinion on Welton Academy makes many question why I would allow my son to come here in the first place, but not to my surprise he has never been like me. His drive and personality has always never resembled my own, but when I look at him I see myself physically. Michaels oak blonding hair and wavering blue eyes remind me way too closely of mine. And as the car begins to draw nearer to Welton I feel my heart rate begin to accelerate. 

A gentle hand falls down onto my knee and that's when I realise my leg has been bouncing. Without really thinking it settled, but my heart is still pounding through my heavy chest, begging to break free and run off somewhere to hide. Still looking at the road in the corner of my eye, I turn my head over.

I turn to see her.

This warming, but delighted smile raideating. And we stare for what feels like hours.

After what was more of a second she jokingly rolled her eyes and nudged her hand to move my gaze back on the gravel road. “Both of you stop with the bouncing or you might launch us up to the moon quicker than Neil Armstrong on Apollo 11.” Elaine scolds us in a joking tone. I hear Michael say one of his hilarious witty replies that Elaine somehow has her own to reply with. But one thing in that sentence made my stomach clench and I can’t wrap my head around how funny it was for her to say it now.

Neil.

Neil Armstrong.

Neil Perry.

I focus back on the gravel road.

***

After the long treacherous opening mass I slip away to one of the hallways and begin walking awe on what has changed and what has stayed the same. Apart from some refinishing, practically everything is the same. The yellowish glow of the warm light that I feel when exams start and the long red carpet that runs through certain sections of the school. 

Everything feels the same. 

It all feels so similar but in a peculiar way.

These weaving hallways that remind me of those very brief, but intoxicating moments that I have framed in walls of my mind. Chills that have swept me up into clouds that aren’t too high that I can’t come down, it’s just that I choose not to. As I kept walking over I finally reached the glass box that stands in its proudful way. Photos of the boys that think that there are already men. Trophies that still allow you to hear the victores roar. 

Dozens of smiling faces once my own.

In a crowded hallway that I once called home.

Wishful thinking on their minds.

Lucid dreaming that makes us blind.

Now that I look into the past,

Oh how much I wished I made it last.

Years ago I stood here in my first English class with Mr Keating and many then thought it might be foolish to do this, but I believed him. Even if it was only a mere second it felt like it was stretched. It was one of the moments that bleed into each other to allow more time for these moments. This might allow us more time to acquire more meaning from them or maybe just so we could understand a little more about them. I didn’t know it then, but Mr Keattings classes were one of the many reasons I would find that year to not end it all. A pull of some sort began tugging me closest to something and for some reason I just followed, allowing the universe to lead me to what it wanted me to find. This was something I learnt that year as well and it wasn’t what Mr Keating taught me, but what a bright, spirit full boy that I still look up to did. Neli Perry.

Mr Keating might have told us to make our lives extraordinary, but Neli was the one that taught me how to act upon it. Wishful thinking wasn’t going to make dreamscapes that plagued your mind, living would. And finding the very core passion that brought you the most fulfilment was important. It was just I didn’t know what living was when all I could think of was the face and breath of death. Calling me in any chance I had freedom in. And even when I was happy he would leave traces and prints everywhere around me. 

“Hello.” Michale’s voice or was it Neils?

“Dad, are you okay?” Michales.

I don’t look over instead I just stare at the photo in front of me. All these boys that I knew nearly nothing about, but also so much. “Do you see this photo? And that boy, close to the back with the brow hair.” I ask him almost choking with the invisible sock down my throat “There’s like four of them?” Michael replied strangely concerned. “Right corner, two boys to the left. Do you know his name?”

“Sorry, no.”

“What is your full name Michale?” I ask, finally looking over at him. His puzzled face looking at me waiting to answer, strangely scared he’ll mess up. “What’s your full name?”

“Michale Neil Anderson.”

“Neli, do you know why we had Neli as your middle name?”

“When I was young, you told me it was to do with Neil Armstrong, but that wouldn’t make any sense since I was born two years before they landed on the moon-” I cut him off because if I didn’t he might possibly start talking about carrots before he finally got to his point. “Neli Perry is the name of that boy, and he was extraordinary. He was so passionate and soulful and you very much remind me of him, Michael. That used to hurt me when you were young, but I began to learn to never be hung up on things, but one thing is all I ask from you. Not A’s for every class, but find what makes your life extraordinary and pursue it.” 

Michael nods, but his look is still puzzled, “Did you do that?” 

I tilted my head and returned his puzzled look. “What do you mean by that?”

“Did you find what makes your life extraordinary?”

A grin. I’m grinning. “Yes, I very much did.”

Me and Elaine said our goodbyes to Michael and all the fears that wrong would occur melted off like ice in fire. And to my surprise my cheeks weren’t just dry, but hurted. Was I grinning that much that they began to hurt? Michael is nothing like me, but we’re also so similar. His heart is so full of optimism which isn’t fully like mine, but one that I see everyday that makes me think ‘That is my son’ is the dreamlike wonder he brings around. 

***

After saying our goodbyes I told Elaine to head off before me, still staring at the dozens of shining faces behind walls of glass, keeping them pure, young, and persevered. Stilling in time watching the new and old as they move along the halls that they once did. Not really looking at the time I stood there, blocking everything like the drawing also did.

“Anderson!” A call behind me yells. Jumping I turned behind me to see who it was, a face so familiar with a growing smile. “Nawanda?” the name came in a question, not his first name or last, but his name.

“Yes.” He laughed with a grin, “Nawanda is I.” Charlie Dalton seemed the same with his childish grin and confident nature. “How are you Todd, didn’t know you were going to come.” He walks over patting my back with a firm hand.

“Parden?” 

“The letter, the one Knox sent out? Didn’t you get it?”

I shook my head, my gaze travelling back to the glass. Charlie speaks again,“We’re meeting in town tomorrow, the four of us, well five if you wanted to come to. What do you say Anderson?” 

I can see his reflected face on the glass. I wanted to decline and say some lame excuse, but then I saw Nelis' framed face smiling with such gratitude and I replied with,“Where?”

***

Downstreet Cafe wasn’t even on Downstreet, it was on the bend near it. Close, but not close enough, my father would say that about me and my brothers, grades, sport, anything that didn’t meet his eye he would shoot down with a, ‘not close enough’. 

Downstreet Cafe had an apparent warm glow even from the outside, just peering in, it looked warm. It was close to spring so it may just be the temperature, but I began to grow hotter as I grew closer to opening the engraved door. Do they even want me here? Is this a good idea? Maybe I should leave. Thoughts circled me into a corner, the handle of the door staring into me.

The door suddenly opened, the surprise almost making me fall. A girl with dark brown hair and green peering eyes stares at me with confusion, but surprise.“Umm…Sir it’s a push if you didn’t know.” A tilt of her head, questioning something.

How long was I standing there?

“I’m sorry, I almost lost my senses there. Thank you.”

She nods and steps aside to allow me in. Inside the cafe it was more earthy, with yellow lighting shining through the many lamps. I began wandering through the cafe, taking the whole room in. This would be lovely to write about, hell, draw, I should write it down, sketch it.

As I was about to grab my black cover binded book a yell from across the room reached me. “Todd, you made it inside!” Nawanda. Charlie.

I give a small shy wave, walking over to the booth they're all in. “Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding or something.” 

“No, no, no. Sit down, sit down, it’s fine Todd, no need to worry.” Pitts. He’s here too.

Of course he would be what am I saying all of them are here Charlie said that already. Calm, no need to keep thinking so quickly.

“Didn’t know if you knew how doors worked. Just stood and stared at it.” They all laughed at what Charlie said, and I thought it was funny too. I laughed.

“I forgot if I knew as well.” Did I just make a joke? They all laughed though, so it must have been funny. My chest fills with this type of pride that makes me want to make them all laugh once again. Is this why Charlie likes to make jokes?

“So Mr Best selling author, nice of you to allow you in your presence.” Knox…I think at least. “Charlie tells me you didn't get my letter.” I did get it, never opened it. 

“I probably did, maybe got lost in the mail.” I shrug and my eyes fall back to their favourite place. The palms of my hands. When I was homeschooled by my mother, she would set time for me to learn social skills. Keeping eye contact was one of them and it was always the one I struggled with most. 

“Well it doesn’t matter no more, you’re here aren’t you.” Charlie says patting my back once again. All of them looked older, their prominent features the same. Meeks glasses, Pitts height, ect. Just like the school, it looked the same. It felt the same, it just aged, it just grew.

Knox, knocking on the table with his hand that held a ring. “So, Mr Keating left us something, in his will. It was a box, apparently one of us knew the code to open it. He apparently told us, does anyone know about it.”

Mr Keating, dead.

He’s gone.

Never coming back.

Neil’s dead.

He’s gone.

Never coming back.

The funny part is that I think I know the code. But I was too scared to say it. So I didn’t.

***

As I eat dinner alone tonight, since Elaine is with her sisters I begin thinking of the Why.

The question of Why hasn’t plagued my mind as much as it did when we all first found out. 

In the winter of 1959, the night of Neli’s play of Mid-sumers night's dream, I and the rest of the boys rode in silence as Mr Ketting drove us back to school. The sinking feeling in my gut strengthened. Worries have always consumed me, the fear of reaching disappointment and dissatisfaction not to myself but to others was apparent since I was young. All I knew was that I couldn’t possibly see Neil’s bed empty, I couldn’t possibly go into that room. Fortunately Mr Keating called on me to stay and talk to him.

“All right boys, all of you should get some rest now except you Mr Anderson, come talk to me for a moment.” The gentle, but sad way he spoke to us made my stomach ache in its worst faze yet. The very ripe lingering of  pomegranate seeds drawed me closer to Mr Keating and for some odd reason I followed it. “Come with me Todd, I have something I wanted to give you and the other boys. I just wanted to pass it through you first.”

He led me through the teachers' dormitories and stopped at one near the middle. “Come in, Anderson and sit down.” The room was a comfortable size, books and papers laid on all possible surfaces, some with the bottom rims of coffee or tea printed on them. Candles scattered around, looked as if he had forgotten that he put them there. A vase of dried flowers sat on a round table near the room, pink small flowers, I feel I saw them before. “Butterfly weed, Mr Anderson. Pretty aren’t they?” 

I nod, “Butterfly weed, it means Let me go.”

Looking up to see his candle lit face I see the orange yellow hews moving as he sets it on the table. Mr Keating’s expression made the knot in my stomach tighter. So tight it feels like only a thread is holding it together. “One to admire the plants, Mr Anderson? One to search the meaning of every word a symbol gives is something you have the nick for.”

Mr Keating looks up as he begins shuffling on a chair. “Sit down.”

I do as he asks, still a little dazed about what he wanted. Looking at his desk that separates us, the look of organised chaos of more papers and books soothes me. The only thing that sets apart is the lamp and a photograph of a young woman. “She’s…pretty.” I break the silence, nodding over to the gold framed photo. “Yes, she’s also in England.” His expression looked like he had said this before. Looked as if it made him more confused than sad. “She sent the butterfly flowers.” I said it more like it was a statement than a question, blurting it out without meaning it too. Slightly moving his gaze away from the frame, his eyebrows knitted. “Yes, how could you tell? Tell me, Mr Anderson, how only looking at two things in my room could you piece things together?” It felt as if he was doing the same as me, observing the slight things makes you hunger for more, for meaning, for stories.

“As you said before, I do have the nick for finding meanings.” 

Mr Keating  smiles, no, grins.

“Well then Todd, I wanted to ask you about your writing. Neli says you write a lot. How is it?” He pours two cups of tea as he asks, focusing on both the question and pouring the steaming liquid. “Writing?”

“Yes, have you been writing much?” 

“Sure.” I say playing with my fingers, cracking them, pulling them, distracting myself. Mr Keating’s gaze was still strong on me, waiting.“It was your birthday a month ago, am I right.” My response was a simple nod. “Did your friends give you anything?”

I shake my head. “No, sir.”

“Why is that the case Todd?”

“I didn’t tell them sir.”

“Todd…friendship is a two way street. You won’t get anywhere if one knows more about the other. Let your friends know you.” We were both silent.

“I told Neli.”

“Yeah…talk more to Neli. He’s a good friend.”

I nod. “Was there anything else sir?”

“Ahh, yes.” He stands to pick up a book. It’s small, it could fit in a large coat pocket. The cover was black and a brown piece of rope tied it close, to keep it together. “This is for you, hopefully you will write your thoughts. I believe that even if you can’t say what you think, you could still write them down. The book will hopefully prevent you from wanting to rip the pages out.”

I look up, his last sentence slightly shocking me. 

“Take the book now. Keep it safe for me, it says the date I gave it to you, write something down for me tonight. And once you finish the book, write the end date.” I nod, taking the book with two hands. “Have a good night Mr Anderson.”

I stood up and walked to the door, “You too Mr Keating.” I stop. “Thank you.”

***

Walking to my room, the first thing I do is open up the page and begin to write.

Dear Neil Perry,

You were amazing on stage tonight. Everyone thought the same, Charlie was probably the most quiet I have ever seen him. The way spoke and moved across the stage showed the passion you poured into it. It was extraordinary. Utterly extraordinary.

The smile and you had when we clapped at the end reminded me of the time I stumbled into you practising in our dorm. All I knew when I walked in and you finished was to clap. You smiled just like that, maybe even bigger. You picked up one of the crumpled pieces of paper in my rubbish and held it out to me saying, “Your turn Todd.” I think that was one of the very few moments I have ever felt confident enough to do that. And you clapped when I finished. It felt so good. Thank you Neli Perry, you are extraordinary.

Your dear friend,

 Todd Anderson

After writing I stood and took a minute to smile. Neil Perry was extraordinary, and he made me feel like that too. Turning to face our beds, Nelis was still empty. He probably stayed with his parents. I turn to face my bed more clearly. A box was in the centre.

Standing up I cautiously inspected the box. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Who put this here? What’s inside? Should I open it? No. Yes?

I opened the box. All that was inside was piles and piles of paper. Crumpled up pieces of paper. How very odd. Picking up the paper I read it to myself. It's mine. I think at least. Looking closer I see a letter on my pillow.

Dear Todd,

I thought you should see how amazingly talented you are.

You watch me perform. I read what you write.

Deal.

Your dear friend,

Neli Perry

I went to sleep that night with a smile.

***

After washing my dishes I walk to my studdy. I found the box and sat on my chair and read. 

Neil Perry, you are extraordinary. Deal. I may not be able to watch you perform any more, but I will love to read you every word I write. 

I will open that box with everyone.

I will show them your box for me.

Neil Perry, you are extraordinary. 

I will write till my dying days.

I will live by size the day.

Neil perry I love you.

***

After climbing a hill that felt like it took forever. I found the stone that printed your name, the white letter stared into me, but I didn't let it take a hold of me. Sitting beside the stone I lay my head on it and begin to read you what I wrote.

Today is a day I wouldn’t mind to die.

Today is a day I feel alright.

Today is a day I have said all goodbyes.

Today is the day I almost died.

[aristotels]

Of course all problems and inequalities are direct consequence of modernity and in the past those who are now considered undesirable were considered divine and definitely weren't treated even worse and didn't have access to anything that resembles accomodations. Let's bring those times back!

In Ancient Rome specifically there was no hospitalisation, yes, but also people who were considered mad couldn't make financial and legal operations on their own at all and couldn't be citizens, and were considered pariahs by their communities. This is not to say that you are wrong because you picked the wrong time to see as "when things were better", it's that just because what causes problems now is capitalism doesn't mean that before it people were always kind and caring, everything is much older.

(Or that removing the money would fix everything on its own, for that matter)

are you literally so stupid to fail to see my point

the point isnt "LOOK WHAT THEY TOOK FROM US" the point is that fears and delusions depend on the society youre brought up in; and also sorry that a 5 sentences tumblr post didnt go into history of medical malpractice, it was a lighthearted post made by someone with those very issues

yeah, if i lived then, then id have a different delusion more fit to those times - but it would not resemble my current paranoia or nightmares of being drugged or talked to the way ive had medical staff talk to me bc those things are specific to our society.

(Also you can still have your rights denied for being mentally ill today as well?????? what happened to free britney??? And like My family doctor once literally suggested to my dad to involountary check me into psych ward which was smth my psychiatrist at the time was very much trying to avoid because he KNEW how dehumanizing that is, he spent more than sn hour trying to figure out if my visions of suicide were actual suicide risk or intrusive thoughts; telling me later that he was willing to gamble such a huge risk and responsibility he would have to take in case i actually did smth to myself - just to keep me out of the hospital stay because he worked there and SAW how dehumanizing it is. because getting in the ward here doesnt mean youre done when youre out, this shit affects FUCKLOAD of things in your life!)

are you really trying to be like "LETS TAKE AWAY ACCOMODATIONS FROM PEOPLE WHO SUFFER WOOW GOOD JOB" in my inbox rn btw considering that i am literally schizophrenic w some other mental illnesses, and that i take fucking meds upon meds for it, including antipsychotics??????? and i am also very grateful for those aids, but even with meds my condition will never be resolved and its severity very much depends on the people/society around me. my delusions while living in croatia might differ from someone who lives in the usa.

i literally have no patience or attention or care or anything to argue with you rn, if you wanna discuss political or economical or marxist or whatever theory in my inbox go ahead, but i am NOT arguing about my own fucking lived experience and having you speak to me this way, in an incredibly entitled and dismissive way. its late and im going to bed. i genuinely dont care for your "ummmmm ekshually capitalism is noot thaaat bad-" shit while i keep having episodes on the daily in a big part due to fuckin capitalism. losing my other job is putting me through stress because i have no money, but it also eased up certain aspects of my illness because i dont have to hit hardcore fucking deadlines every week.

p.s. who the fuck is talking about money not existing. if you are gonna bring that up within communist theory and up for a serious discussion thats a whole other thing, but moneyless and stateless society doesnt just rest on tadaaah no money, like theres a reason marx wrote books n essays on that shit and why daddy engels sent him checks. and even in ideal communist world we would still have mental illnesses, but i am absolutely positive that my thoughts would differ than the current ones and that they would probably be less severe. and also why is this implying that communism wont have like the fuckin medication

i usually take care to carefully reply to asks and try to actually give a serious opinion but i gen dont care if i sound incoherent rn, this legit pissed me off

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #48: Local Dude Already Hates the Job He Was So Excited to Get

Yeah. What the title says. It's been only a few weeks and I already hate my job. I don't know what I was expecting, really.

But...hey. The pay is higher than at my old position!

...That's my little mantra, anyway. I close my eyes, take a couple of deep breaths, and say, "the pay is better, the pay is better, the pay is better..."

Man...I don't know where to start. So...I guess I'll just start with the fact that upon starting this position, I was given my own text generation droid. And that already tells you a lot, right off the bat, doesn’t it?

I know I joked about that at my last job. But now it's not a joke—it's real.

Text generation droids are fairly new. Which is super weird, since protocol droids (and other droids capable of mimicking natural language) have been around forever. But, while natural-language droids use their speech abilities to communicate with us (and are so good at it they almost feel like other sentients)…they're not necessarily designed with the purpose of generating complex, or worse, creative, text samples. Threepio, for example, has no idea what to do when I ask him to freestyle rap.

And I have asked. More than once. Anyway—

My text generation droid at work is one of the Scribblr models. It's an SC-2 unit, so, I, uh...call her...Essie.

She also doubles as a personal assistant. And resembles a cute little humanoid lady, which I'm sure is sooo not sexist at all.

Only…about the size of a bottle of wine. She’s meant to fit on top of your desk, and she doesn’t move, which is weird for a droid. You have to pick her up and carry her if you want to move her around. But, mostly I just leave her in her charging dock on my desk. She communicates wirelessly with my work computer, and I can view her text generation outputs on the screen.

At first, I refused to use Essie's text generation function, because I, uh, you know, kinda wanted to WRITE, since that's what I thought I was hired to do—but my manager soon made it very clear to me that I could not possibly succeed in churning out the sheer quantity of content expected of me, without using Essie. Sooo...Essie and I are a team now. Unfortunately.

No—it sucks. It really, really sucks. What I am currently doing at my job cannot be described as writing. It's content generation, it's clickbait, it's mind-rotting sensationalist drivel for the masses, it's advertising and sponsored links and a never-ending battle to capture as much holonet traffic as possible—it's everything I hate as an artist.

But...hey. The pay is better!

Thepayisbetterthepayisbetterthepayisbetter—

Sigh. My hands are kinda tied. It's not gonna look good on my resume if I quit so soon. And I am not interested in starting a whole new job hunt, or crawling back to my old department in tears. So...guess I'm just...stuck here for a while. Me and Essie. Good ol' Essie...

The interesting thing about Essie is that I am 100% sure she is stealing my data at all times, recording my speech patterns when I talk to myself, tracking whatever little writing is actually being produced by me—because there is no other explanation as to why, instead of saying "Good morning, Ben Solo" like she used to, she is now saying "Yooo, 'sup buddy!" and "What's shakin’, my dude?"

She even said something was "wizard" the other day and...hooh, that made my heart flutter. Everyone else keeps telling me to stop trying to make "wizard" happen. But no. Not Essie.

I should probably be wiping her memory more often...but, honestly, I am way too amused by this. Today after lunch she said to me, "By the way bro, you have a stupid freaking meeting at three o'clock," and, ha—let me tell ya—it made my day. Fannie's lucky I still don't think droids are sentient, because, heh—well—if I did—wait, wait, no, actually I’m not gonna finish that sentence.

Ohhh, Essie! My bright light in a dark world.

...But I’m not becoming a droid guy. I’m not! Beebee-Ate and Threepio still drive me insane at home. And get this! You remember Sweeper? From my old office? Well, it turns out that every single department at the ChommSec Daily has also not updated their cleaning droids since before the Battle of Yavin, so it’s not the same Sweeper that’s on my new floor, but there’s definitely a Sweeper here, who I call Sweeper 2, and he is just as annoying as Sweeper 1. ARGH

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Chapter 27: The Scroll pt 2

Previous: Chapter 26

Next: Chapter 28

The next month of lessons was just as excruciating as expected. 

Progress on his literacy was exceptionally slow, with his handwriting barely improving much to his own embarrassment. But to the creature’s credit, it never raised its voice as it asked him to re-read or oftentimes, rewrite the sentences it had given him.

It had promised that once he’d mastered the basics it would teach him things like chemistry, biology, physics, strategy, politics, and economics, along with its personal favorite being alchemy. He didn’t have the slightest clue what alchemy was, but it seemed to arouse the creature’s enthusiasm whenever it was brought up. 

The weaving lessons had been surprisingly better. He’d found himself quickly falling into a comfortable pattern of weaving. Improvement there had been slow with him often struggling to weave more than a small napkin or scarf, but the creature had nevertheless seemed vaguely content with his progress.

It wasn’t long before his wounds had healed and the creature had deemed him strong enough to begin the more physical lessons. Hunting should have been easy, that is, until the creature had insisted he use a different position for archery, one that despite its insistence had led to him missing more shots than he could remember.

He’d been tempted several times to argue the credibility of such a position given how he doubted the creature even had the proper form to use a bow in the first place, but he’d complied. Quietly mixing the form of his people with the creature’s technique he felt his aim slowly start to improve.

His self-defense had gotten better as well, as he’d practiced his moves against the training models the creature had made move on their own.

“In combat, you cannot afford any mistakes,” it reminded him, as he narrowly dodged a strike from one model before parrying another with his own spear. The strength and speed at which the models had attacked him was always overwhelming as he’d quickly found himself sporting a new series of cuts and bruises at the end of each session.“Your opponents have had hundreds if not thousands of years to practice and perfect. If you are to face them then you must be precise. Waste no movement nor opportunity. Do what you must to ensure that you will be the victor.”

He nodded, attacking his opponents once more. An hour had passed before the creature had decided to move on to the next subject. Agriculture. The creature itself had been surprised at how he’d immediately taken to the agriculture lessons. But it’d nevertheless been satisfied enough to assign him a project of designing his own fields.

he was tending to his wounds when the creature approached, watching as his cuts promptly vanished under the light of his stone.

“You know healing,” the creature murmured. “Were you taught?”

“Not quite. I only know it because I saw the devils do it once with their own crystals,” he admitted before he began to slip off parts of his training armor. “ Why do you ask?”

“Healing is not an easy ability to acquire. It is very rare to see one use it without formal training.”

“So…” he glances at the creature thoughtfully before he removes his forearm guards.  “Am I a prodigy?”

“Not quite. But you do show promise,” it answers as he nods and withdraws the paper from his notebook. 

“Have you finished it?” the creature asked as he nodded. 

“Yes,” he held it towards the creature to see. “This is My finalized design for the fields.”

The creature hummed, as the paper levitated itself from his grasp. Its eyes glossed over the paper before it murmured, “Your handwriting is improving.”

“Is it? It still looks terrible to me.”

“It resembles words. That in and of itself is an improvement.”

“Wow,” he rolled his eyes. “Thanks, I guess. Anyway, I was thinking we could integrate some architecture into the mountainside. Perhaps shape the hills into a stair-like pattern? It could prevent the loss of nutrients during any torrential amounts of rain! Right?”

“Yes. It could.”

He grinned, his imagination running wild as the paper returned itself to his grasp before he looked it over. “Maybe we can also integrate some little tunnels through it as well, so in case of droughts we can still water it quickly and efficiently. It’s brilliant isn’t it?”

“It certainly is practical. You have given this a lot of thought.”

“Yeah… runoff used to be a problem back in my village. So anything that can help us would be a welcome change.”

“We will try to implement it tonight.”

“After midnight patrol?” He’d asked, briefly taking a sip of water as his mind wandered to a few nights ago. 

Kerakash’s death had not gone unnoticed. 

The constant yet distant sounds of the devils' ships flying over the forests at night could attest to that. Whether it had been through the creature's power or the devils’ own caution, none of them had ever flown close to the mountain which was understandable. 

“The Atlanteans will not be a problem,” it replied. “But it is best we do this before midnight. If it works then we can see to whatever adjustments will be made before installing it in your village.

He nodded, his eyes landing on the cave’s skylight as the creature silently departed, leaving him alone to his thoughts once more. 

                  ————————————

He’d been all too happy making his way to the cave entrance as he’d embraced the night air with open arms. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had time to merely watch the ocean or observe the peaceful starry sky above. 

Has the world always been this beautiful? 

As a child, he’d remembered the way his aunt had told him the stories of the stars that had been passed down from generation to generation. He could only hope that those stories were providing her with a sense of comfort now as he sat on the edge, sighing deeply.

“So,” he started with a shiver. “Where are we walking to?”

“Not walking,” it hissed. “You will be traveling differently tonight.”

“Really? And what way is that?” Its answer came in the form of its wings that had suddenly expanded, blocking the moon from view as its eyes intensely stared down at him.

He took a hesitant step back. The memories of the last time he’d ‘flown’ with the creature were all but pleasant as he’d remember its talons practically impaling him as it lifted him into the air. “Flying? We’re going to fly? Is.. Is this non-negotiable?”

“Yes. You are in no shape to make such a journey on foot. Not during the night of a full moon.”

“What happens on nights of full moons?”

He asked while subtly trying to put some distance between himself and the creature. 

“On the night of a full moon, the wolves travel to congregate, sometimes for mating, sometimes to engage in battle.”

He frowned, his eyes suspiciously narrowing before he took another step back.  “I didn’t know wolves did that. Usually, they try to stay out of each other’s way-,”

“Yes, But wolves are like any other animals. Easily influenced to undertake unnatural behaviors in the presence of supernatural beings…” The barely visible outline of its wings shivered a beautiful shade of silver as the creature turned its attention back toward the sky. “You would do well to stay clear of such creatures tonight.”

“Okay but how will I-,” his words halted as his body was suddenly hoisted from the ground. There was no time to scream as he levitated upwards before he was placed onto the middle of the creature’s back. 

It took another step forward. The mere force of its action nearly pulled him off as he desperately held on. His breath hitched in his throat as it took off, leaping off the edge of the cliff. 

The wind roared in his ears as his eyes burned with tears. He hadn’t even realized he’d been screaming until he’d adjusted his grip once more, marveling at the sight of the trees and ocean below, as well as the distant mountaintops that surrounded him.

A laugh escaped him as he watched a mountaintop near, with the creature swiftly yet gently landing on its edge. 

Shivering, he’d carefully peeled himself off of the creature's back, doing his best to ignore the laughter in its stare.

Then he began to feel the mountain shake. The ground beneath his feet contorted and moved forward as he watched it change shapes to resemble his design. 

His eyes widened in amazement as he bent down to run his fingers through the dirt. It seemed as if the creature’s assertion on the soil had been correct. It was fertile. 

“Today will be your first field lesson in agriculture.” It called, as two sacks slowly tumbled from out of its darkness towards him. He nodded slowly opening one sack that was full of fish meat that had been neatly diced. 

“Did you cut this?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes. Now you will use it as your fertilizer.” 

He nodded, admittedly still somewhat impressed with the creature’s cutlery skills. “You’re pretty skilled with a knife. Have you ever thought about being a hunter? I mean you’ve already got the hunting part down pat, and your blade work isn’t too bad either.” He held up the bag of fish for emphasis. “You know I used to have a friend who’d cut the meat up finely like this…” his smile wavered as he remembered Kokaf. The last person who’d seen him alive that night… He shuddered, hoping his friend hadn’t taken his disappearance too harshly.  “He was really good at it too…I doubt he ever found his hunting blade.”

“Hmm…Unlike your friend, we have no use for human weapons.” It spoke, not sounding the least bit amused. “Such objects are primitive.”

Primitive. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the word. He’d lost track of the amount of times he’d heard the devils use it towards his people. He’d glared at the creature, boldly retorting, “And yet you know how to use them.”

“We know everything. Your weapons and  blades merely offer a small portion of the knowledge your planet holds.”

He shook his head, “They’re more than that. Weapons are an extension, a manifestation of our being. It’s how we distinguish ourselves from each other and the darker parts of the forest.” He’d gently held the second bag in his hand. The sounds of the forest below were peaceful, as he savored the passing night breeze. 

His other hand reached to his side. Quietly he pulled the blade he’d acquired from the commander’s body, carefully holding it beneath the moonlight. It hadn’t been as good as his own, but he knew better than to be in the forest unarmed. “The first hunting blade you receive in the village is always the most important,” he explained. “So they are always specific to their holder. Sometimes in carving, other times in appearance. No two blades in the village are ever alike.”

A bitterness had filled his mouth at his own words. Surely there was some irony to it, wasn’t there? A symbol he’d sworn had been used to protect now signified betrayal. He’d have half a mind to throw the blade as far down the mountainside as he could until he saw the handle.

His eyes widened ever so slightly at the knife in his hands before the creature spoke, “Another practice you adopted from your gods?”

He nodded, “Yes. That and the scars is what we do to keep the shape stealers away.”  

“Ah, so your scars have meaning. We concluded that they were intentional given the shape.”

He shrugged, placing the blade back in its holder. “Yeah, my aunt gave us ours. But she did mine wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yeah she was supposed to go this way,” he gestured diagonally across his chest. “But she …didn’t,” he frowned. As much as he’d disliked talking about it, he couldn’t hold the incident against her. Not after he’d remembered how badly her hand had shaken while using the knife that night. She hadn’t been prepared to do it. Not physically or emotionally. But she’d had no choice. After their previous elder, her father had died after his confrontation with the devils, she’d inherited the honor…the burden of being their elder. 

“How are the markings distinct then?”

“The markings are usually distinct because the blade used to create them reacts differently to each person. We call it the meteor blade. Legend has it that centuries ago, a meteorite fell near the edge of our kingdom, and the king at the time believed it to have some sort of mystical capabilities. So he commanded several weapons to be carved from it. Most of the weapons were lost the day the royal family was executed, but somehow the meteorite blade managed to make its way to us.”

“Intriguing,” the creature thoughtfully murmured. “The origin of the blade may be the reason why your scars still persisted, even after we healed you.”

“Wait, you tried to heal my scars?”

“Yes. But as you can see, there was little success in any of our attempts. Scars have always been a fickle thing to heal. The older they are the more resistant the skin is. If you were to rid yourself of them you would need to use a different source of power.” 

“Eh, no thanks…I think I like my scar the way it is,” he replied with a small pat on his chest. “It helps me look more distinct.” But despite his cheery tone, the memories of said scars had only served to reawaken the fresh wounds in him as he felt his heart ache for his friends and family.

Not wanting to linger on said pain, he opened the second sack full of hundreds of seeds. Corn seeds, wheat seeds, and rice seeds were only a few he could recognize before he turned his attention back to the stairwell. “Could you please keep a lookout for any wolves?”

The creature released a low clicking noise. He could only hope that was a noise of agreement as he moved forward. 

Carefully he’d slipped onto the stairwell, digging a few holes to place both meat and seed in the dirt as the creature made no attempt to join him. 

“I’ve been thinking-,” he started, grunting as he slowly began to climb down the first level. “That you and your kind have obviously been around for a while, right? If the books in your cave are anything to go off of then you’re at least what? Eight thousand years old….right?” He scoffed, muttering under his breath. “Ugh no wonder you use darkness to hide yourself, you’re probably nothing but scales and wrinkles-,”  When the creature failed to answer he nodded, positioning himself to drop onto the second stairwell beneath him. 

“Do you have a name? Anything I could call or remember you by?”

“A name is not needed.”

“But it’s wanted. C’mon, you don’t even have to tell me what your real name is. I just think anything is better than calling you, well, ‘you’.”

He’d nearly mistaken its silence for an answer before it replied, “Allepac Agirua,” 

“What?”

“You may call us Allepac if you wish.”

“Oh…Allepac…Is that a male or female name?”

Its eyes narrowed as he bristled, practically feeling its annoyance from its ledge near the top of the mountain. “I’m sorry!” he stammered. “I mean, you speak with several voices, and I’ve never really gotten a good look too…you know….I didn’t want to-,”

“Female,” it answered, the woman’s voice sounding particularly loud.

“Wait…So you’re female?” 

“The name we have chosen is of female origin, Erlan,” the female voice spoke. The other voices were noticeably absent as he’d decided to take that as his answer before moving on.

Quickly he began to dig through the dirt as he buried the pieces of fish meat and seeds. 

After an hour or so of work, he’d wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood up, calling to the creature still positioned at the top of the stairwell. “How did you live for so long? Better yet, why come here of all places?” He groaned as he stretched. “If I were immortal and could do half as much as you could, I would travel the world! Maybe even to the stars as well!” He paused, slowly sliding onto the third stairwell as he glanced upwards. To his surprise Allepac was now on the edge, staring down at him intensely.

Right. He mustn't forget what he was dealing with, not if he wanted to live long enough to make it back to his village. Taking a deep breath, he waited for the moonlight to reappear before digging through the soil once more. 

Why would the creature want to remain in such desolate parts? Perhaps it had sought solitude? If so it had done a remarkable job of keeping its presence unnoticed. But then it had emerged, seemingly killing and eating any animal or devils it had come across. It was most definitely carnivorous, but it had not attempted to attack the village, even in its most weakened state.

He knew it would be a foolish question to ask. He’d seen it mutilate and kill, but his curiosity quickly got the better of him as he spoke, “Do you eat humans?” Allepac’s eyes were practically blazing now as he felt his throat dry.

“Do not insult us. We have never found the flesh of your kind to be satisfying., it spoils and thins with age. Its taste and texture are identical. You would taste no different to us than any Atlantean.”

He frowned, “But you’ve tried it?” Silence. Alright, well that answer certainly wasn’t comforting, but he continued. “Well if it’s not to your liking, then what do you use to sustain yourself?”

He was surprised when it answered,  its voice nearly lost to the passing wind.“A thought..An emotion,” the moon hid behind a cloud as it slowly began to climb down the stairwell. Its claws practically crushed and sliced the mountain stone as it neared. “A soul. All things that are distinctly unique to humans.”

He could feel himself tremble at it’s words. Now he’d understood why it had asked for his soul. why it had saved him. Why it had taught him. He was nothing more than a food source, and he’d do wise to remember that. He continued in silence, slowly descending the steps to plant more seeds and meat into the ground.

It hadn’t helped that Allepac had come closer, its eyes practically burning him with every step he took. But he ignored it. There’d be a time to be afraid of course, but not now. Now he had to be strong, both for himself and his people. He’d have to do better.

He’d finished descending the second from the last step when he’d nearly lost his grip. The landing hadn’t been as comfortable as he’d wanted but at least he wasn’t hurt. 

Slowly he’d scattered and buried the seeds before asking, “What…what do souls taste like? Do they have a distinct flavor or-,”

“No human soul tastes identical. Some are more potent than others.”

“What happens to a soul when you devour it? Does it cease to exist or does it become a part of you?” He didn’t hear the creature’s answer as he felt his foot slip, sending him face-first into the dirt. He could feel Allepac's eyes glittering in amusement from behind him as he angrily hauled himself to his feet. “I meant to do that,” he grumbled.

“Certainly.”

“I did, you-,” he paused, as a terrible scream emerged from the forest below. His hand flew to his knife as he backed as far away from the stairwell ledge as possible. “Is it?” he whispered.

“It seems as if they have chosen to do battle this night.”The creature replied.

“Battle?” he repeated. “What would wolves fight over?”

“Lands, mates, food, anything you’ve heard before, really.”

He nodded, his eyes slowly focusing on the outline of the nearest trees. Part of him prayed that none of the other hunters had defied the devils’ order like he. He’d hoped that they’d been at home, far away from the sounds of the fighting wolves.

After a moment or so of watching and listening, he’d turned his attention back to his work. It was best to finish while the wolves were at least a good distance away. He’d nearly finished planting the seeds and meat on the final level of the stairwell as Allepac neared, and for once, he found himself grateful for its close proximity.

No animal in their right mind would approach him now, not unless it wanted to die. Maybe the hunting lessons the creature had spoken of earlier would be far more exciting than he expect- SNAP

He jumped as he watched the creature remain motionless, a low hiss leaving its body as its eyes focused solely on the forest behind him.

“What was that?!” he cried, whirling around to look at the forest edge. Allepac didn’t answer as he heard the faint yet distant sound of another twig snapping followed by approaching footsteps. 

Someone, no something was coming this way. An Atlantean? A wolf? He’d neared the edge of the stair’s wall, gripping it in anticipation to climb at any moment’s notice, and he nearly had, until the forest broke, and the figure slinked forward.

It took one step. Then two. Before promptly collapsing.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“A wolf-dog,” Allepac sneered. Whether it had been annoyed or disgusted, he couldn’t tell as he slowly neared the edge of the stairwell, and looked down below. From his spot, he could see the small form of a wolf pup, lying motionlessly on the ground. Its form was bathed in moonlight, revealing the large patches of blood and dirt that had stained its beautiful fur.

He had never particularly liked wolves. Most of the ones he’d come across had been aggressive, but this was a pup barely old enough to leave its mother’s side.  If its injuries had been any indication of its pack's current state, then he doubted it would have any relatives or home to return to.

It was against his better judgment that he began to descend the stairwell, ignoring the warning remarks from Allepac as he neared the injured wolf pup. 

The pup had weakly growled a warning. Its eyes uneasily met his before its head fell back into the blood-painted grass

“There is no use in saving it,” Allepac snapped, nearly startling him as he took in its sudden presence by its side.  “It has lost too much blood and will not live through the night.”

“I lost a lot of blood,” he replied. “But that didn’t stop you from saving me.”

“You are different.”

He chuckled, before staring at the creature incredulously. “Not to you. I’m just your food, just like everyone else with a soul is, right?” The creature offered no semblance of an argument as he reached the dying pup. Carefully withdrawing his necklace, he’d held it over the pup’s wounds, watching as it breathed uneasily for a moment as he pressed his hand downwards. He still hadn’t mastered healing, but he’d hoped that the power had managed to alleviate the pup’s suffering if only for a moment. Tentatively he removed his hand from the pup’s side, awe filling him as he watched the gnash on the animal’s side glow a familiar silver before shrinking, its size not nearly as daunting as it was a few moments ago.

Allepac had said nothing to this, only opting instead to watch quietly as Erlan finished bandaging the pup’s injuries before they swiftly returned to the cave. 

He’d been removed from Allepac’s back when he spoke, “If it survives we should give it a name. How does…Faiolia sound?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? It has nowhere else to go and look at it! It’s so little!”

“All creatures are initially small. But when they become bigger that is when they are the problem.”

“Not all’ he argued back as his eyes met Allepac’s. Some animals can be domesticated. Especially dogs! I remember you taught me that last week!” he’d argued as Allepac’s eyes narrowed. “My aunt told me that my father used to have a wolf dog. She said he’d found it as an injured pup during one of his hunts. He took it home where he and my mother nursed it back to health. It never left their side until the day they left this world, and it soon followed after. Can you believe it? That even an animal can show, or maybe feel that sense of loyalty just from one act of kindness?” His eyes returned to the pup’s pitiful form before he gently placed it on the ground. “Ha, you can’t even say that about some people nowadays. No matter what you do for them, they’ll always be holding a knife to your neck…Ready to strike when you least expect it.” His eyes narrowed as he glared at the traitorous hunting knife that hung at his side.

“You know who betrayed you?” Allepac asked as he began to gather a few spare blankets.

He nodded, spreading the blankets around the pup as he seated himself by its side. “Yeah, I do…” Hurt filled his chest as he tore his eyes away from the knife before looking down at his hands. “The worst part is…We’ve been together as long as I can remember…He’s always looked out for me…I…I just…can’t believe he’d be the one to do this.”

“Perhaps that is why he betrayed you,” Allepac spoke, its voice soft as he felt the unused sheets of the bed wrap around him. “He knew he was the last person you would suspect..”

“Maybe,” he confessed as he drew his knees to his chest. “But I’ve always wanted to know…why.”

“The why does not matter.”

“Doesn’t it? I think I at least have a right to know!”

“You do. But will any reason be enough to justify the breach of loyalty to you? As someone who aspires to be a leader, you should seek to inspire loyalty, not tolerate breaches of it. If someone can betray you once then they are capable of doing it again, maybe even inspiring others to turn against you as well.”

“I know!” he yelled, before deflating. “I know…But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Nothing about me inspires loyalty, Allepac. I know I’m not half as capable as my parents were, but still…” his eyes lingered on the form of the now sleeping pup as he drew his knees to his chest. “I just want to give him a chance to live, Allepac. A chance that for some reason, I was given so long ago…I always knew I should’ve died the same day my parents did. I was just a baby the day they’d been ordered to be executed, but for some reason, the Atlantean royal family spared me and all of the children at the time. Maybe it had been because the queen is a parent too, so she’d listened to the cries of the rebels to spare us. But in the process, she’d left us without our own parents..”

“How have you survived without parents?”

“It wasn’t easy.” He chuckled, the memories of his childhood lingering as two particular faces came to mind. “But it was only because my aunt and Geron stepped in. We all sorta became a family then as they did their best to raise us, even while they were still healing from their own wounds, or at least, the ones we could see.” He sighed, his eyes lingering on the pup’s form once more. “I just hope they’re doing well wherever they are.”

Allepac’s eyes had softened as he’d turned back to the pup, praying that it would survive the night, and much to his surprise it had. 

But its body burned with fever as Erlan tended to its wounds the next morning. “I don’t understand,” he’d murmur after changing it’s bandages. “It should’ve at least started to get better by now-,”

“An infection must Have been in its blood before you healed it,” Allepac noted, its voice emotionless as it carefully observed him. 

“Are blood infections harder to heal?”

“Yes. although healing has never been one of our primary capabilities, we have mastered it to a rather impressive degree. But we will admit that there are still things that surpass our limitations.” 

He shook his head, watching as the feverish pup helplessly whimpered. “There has to be another way…”

“For a wolf-dog?” Its eyes narrowed as it heard his thoughts. “It is not worth it.”

“What is your issue with the wolf-dog anyway?”

“Having that dog around will not be an easy arrangement.” Its eyes narrowed as he heard it hiss. “She is a distraction.”

“No, she’s not. She’s only been here for what? half a day at most? And be honest- I was doing terrible before. There’s no way I can do worse now. Look, how about we do it this way, okay? If I can do well in my lessons, then she can stay. If not, she goes.”

“You sound confident in yourself.”

He shrugs, “Someone has to. If not me, then who?”

Allepac scoffed, “You have a lot of confidence for someone who is lacking a clear solution to his current issues. Your wager will mean nothing if you do not produce a panacea within two days.”

“A panacea,” He shook his head, thinking it over. If Allepac’s power was not enough to heal the pup then he would need to look elsewhere for something stronger. But what else could heal supernaturally? He couldn’t think of anything unless- “The Atlantean’s crystal!” he exclaimed as he stood to his feet. “Do you think it could take care of the infection?”

Allepac’s eyes narrowed, its voice sparing no hints of anger and disgust as it answered, “It could if you so wish to use that source of power. But how you will obtain it is an issue in and of itself.”

“No need to worry. I have a plan.” he walked towards the weaving loom before taking a seat. “But first, Do you think you could give me a lesson before we leave?”

—----------------------------------------

“This was your plan? When you had told us that you had planned on establishing your trade route, we were expecting more than this.” Allepac hissed to his mind as he stood at the edge of the town’s crowded port. The sun had risen a few hours ago as the port’s bell tower began to ring, symbolizing the beginning of the breakfast hour. Waking up to travel so early had been a pain, but he was certain that arriving at this time would increase his chances of running into familiar faces. 

“Give it time,” he whispered, drawing a deep breath as he stepped forward into the array of people and colors from all corners of the world. The crowd had nearly threatened to swallow him whole as he’d struggled to make his way through. Thankfully, no one had noticed him as he’d tugged his hood over his head. 

A small part of him had felt proud of the cloak he’d managed to weave for himself before he’d turned his attention back to the unhappy entity that had resided deeply within his pocket.

“It’s simplistic I know,” he confessed. “But to be honest, that gives it less chance to fail, don’t you think?” 

“No plan is infallible-,” it replies, bringing his mind back to the present as he continues through the crowd. A few passersby cast him wary looks and double-takes before quickly disappearing into the crowd. “-Regardless of its complexity and contingencies. But if this fails do not expect us to step in to save you.”

 “Why not?” He frowns, realizing that he’d been speaking aloud, rather than to the creature in his head. “If I die now, won’t that be a bit problematic for you? What if you miss the chance to grab my soul?”

It scoffed. “It will be a risk well worth taking. No soul polluted by the Atlantean crystal is worth the effort.”

“None of them?”

“None of them.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” he sighed, his eyes searching the streets for any sign of the inn. ‘The Olde Heart Shard’ was what Geron had called it.  It’d been his best bet of running into the man who had betrayed him.

He hesitated, trying to ignore how his heart had lurched at the thought of seeing him again.  What would he say to the man who’d nearly been responsible for his death? Allepac must’ve sensed his thoughts as he heard its voice ask, “You are certain you wish to do this?” something akin to concern becoming more noticeable in its voice. 

“Of course! What? Are you worried about me?” he teased, trying to keep his nerves at bay.

He was promptly rewarded with a scoff as he heard it say, “No. We were merely ensuring that you are in the right state of mind to face what is ahead. You are human, and as such you are always prone to getting emotional in situations like these. But you cannot afford to be emotional if you wish to succeed.”

His eyes narrowed as they swept the street, taking note of the inn’s absence. “Understood.” He drew in a steady breath. He lowered his head before passing a few stray Atlantean soldiers, before thinking, “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were…jealous, Allepac.”

“Jealous-,’ it spat. “Of that insignificant fragment? Why would we be jealous of the very thing we shattered in the first place?”

“You shattered the crystal?” he murmured in disbelief before he anxiously looked around to ensure that no guards were nearby.

“Of course we did,” it sounded smug now. “Many millennials ago they had been one of us. They had been whole. They had been our equal in everything but mental capacity.”

“But then you’d broke it, er, them?”

“Yes. We did. But they were clever. In the aftermath, they fled to Earth where they had been discovered by humans. Humans that would later use their power to take over the world.”

“And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he’d watched the Atlantean ships carrying guards sail overhead. “To finish what you’ve started?”

“Not quite.”

“Not quite?” he’d repeated before scowling as the Atlantean ships landed. One man stepped out from the ship as the surrounding soldiers bowed before following after him. “What? Are you planning on having some sort of friendly get-together when you reunite?” He’d wondered as he’d watched the squadron disappear down one of the streets. “You guys are related, right? Since you’re the same species?”

“Absolutely not,” its voice deadpanned. “Are you related to all of the humans in this city?”

He quickly shook his head, as he’d venture down another street, different from the one he’d seen the squadron take. “Of course not, I-,”

“So do not ever draw such a conclusion again unless you are prepared for massive retaliation.”

He could barely stifle his laughter at the creature’s emotionless threats. “Ah, here comes the threats. Look Allepac I just meant that you sounded jealous of the crystal’s healing abilities. That’s all.”

“Jealous? Ha! Such healing abilities are not that unique. But some are more naturally attuned to it than others. That…thing, has been feeding off of the collective emotions and souls of its people for a millennium. So it is only natural that their healing abilities are vastly superior due to their circumstances, but do not mistake it for an inherent sign of superiority.”

He’d continue searching the streets, briefly pausing to take note of the Seralix stall tenders. Bandages were wrapped around their backs and arms. “So you’re saying that if you had the same amount of emotions or souls to feed off, you’d be able to do the same, if not better?”

“Exactly. So do not misconstrue this with this ‘jealousy’ you speak of.”

He shrugged. “Well, you did sound defensive and upset earlier-”

“Because you are being foolish. Your foolishness has always been very upsetting.”

“And yet you still follow along with it,” he smiled as he felt Allepac shift within his pocket.

“If any part of your soul is salvageable upon death, then we are entitled to it as promised.”

“Comforting,” he rolled his eyes as he ventured onto a thankfully less busy street. “Has anyone ever told you that you had a way with words?” 

“Yes. Where else do you think most of your vocabulary has originated from?”

“Right,” he’d paused, his eyes scanning the crowd once more.

He’d nearly felt his heart falter as his eyes landed on one distant face in the crowd. 

“Kokaf?” he whispered. “Kokaf!” he yelled. His voice was drowned out by the sounds of the crowd as the merchants began their calls to passersby.

“Who?” the creature whispered as his friend continued walking. His face was stoic as he cast a few spare glances towards the Seralix merchants before making his way through the street.

“Kokaf, he’s one of my friends from the village,” he quickly explained as he chased after him. “Excuse me, sorry, pardon,” he called as he passed and pushed his way to the other side of the street where he’d seen his friend venture to. 

His eyes quickly scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of him, before he spotted him heading towards one of the stalls owned by an Atlantean. The stall had been selling healing herbs and concoctions, none of which Erlan suspected worked as well as the crystal that hung around the Atlantean’s neck. 

He’d nearly called for his friend once more until he’d seen the same squadron from earlier appear. He hadn’t been the only one to take note of this as he’d seen the Atlanteans bow to the man as he’d passed their stalls.

The man must’ve been a big deal. Maybe he’d been the new commander they’d sent as a replacement for Kerakash? 

His thoughts were only confirmed as he’d watched Kokaf’s expression change from stoicism to surprise when he caught sight of the man and guards nearing. “Oh no-,” he’d nearly started to move towards Kokaf until he stopped himself. He couldn’t afford to get overemotional, at least not yet.

Acting on the side of caution, he stepped back into the crowd and drew his hood over his face once more.

Kokaf didn’t look scared as he saw the guards approaching. If anything he’d looked…calmer. Simply exchanging words with the stall tender before he’d taken his purchase and walked away, nearly disappearing into the crowd as the guards continued on their own way.

 Perhaps it had just been his nerves acting up, but Something hadn’t felt right. He knew something wasn’t right.

He’d venture into the crowd after Kokaf’s retreating figure, maintaining distance as he followed his friend through the detours and strange turns of the market.

Several times Kokaf had paused to look back. His eyes instinctively searched the crowd for any signs that he’d been followed. But instinct hadn’t been enough to help him spot Erlan before he’d disappeared down a nearby street towards the more prominent Atlantean-owned part of the town.  

Making the venture to this part of the town hadn’t been easy. The streets were practically crawling with guards who’d stop to question every non-devil-blooded individual, who’d passed them.

Knowing that he couldn’t afford such questions, he’d opted to travel unconventionally, leaping across the rooftops as he’d finally tracked his friend through the crowd once more. He watched him look around one last time before he disappeared into a nearby alleyway full of guards. 

Erlan had nearly been tempted to follow but had quickly decided against it, choosing to wait instead. 

His patience was soon rewarded as he’d seen another pair of guards also venture down the alleyway where Kokaf had disappeared to. 

Quietly he’d lept to the closest rooftop near the alleyway, using every bit of stealth training the creature had taught him as he remained still, listening in on the conversation.

“You’re nearly late.” The voice was cold, lacking any semblance of warmth. 

“M-my apologies commander Kogash!” Kokaf stammered. “I-it took me a while to step out a-and lose the acting elder she’s very sneaky a-and-,” he’d grunted, as the air filled with the sounds of metal moving. 

“As expected, another pitiful morning of nothing but excuses,” Kogash yawned. “I’ve tried to be patient with you, boy, since I heard of the good work you’d done for Kerakash but even my patience has limits. Since I’ve arrived you’ve brought me nothing but useless information!”

He’d risked a glance over the rooftop ledge. Surprise filled him at the sight of the man he’d seen earlier, standing there proudly as Kokaf kneeled in front of him with guards standing on either side.

“I-I…I’m sorry sir!” He stammered, his body shaking within the guard’s grasp. “There’s nothing I can do! The others have already done the funeral rites for him and refuse to let anyone sneak into the forest, if I were to go they’d start asking questions-,”

Kogash scoffed, placing his arms behind his back. “So let them ask. Asking is, after all, the best way to know what the people are thinking and planning. If they are doing either then you should be the first to know. That in and of itself shouldn’t be hard, even for someone like you. After all, you do work with them at that inn don’t you?”

Kokaf kept his head lowered, “Yes sir.”

Kogash’s eyes narrowed. “And they certainly trust you enough to keep you around. Don’t they?”

He swallowed uneasily, “Y-Yes sir.”

“And no one suspects a thing, correct?”

His fists clenched. “Yes sir.”

Now the man smiled, “Good. I’d certainly hope so. After all, I don’t take kindly to failed investments so unless you want us to go back on our word-,”

Kokaf looked up now. His eyes were wide with panic. “N-no of course not! All I need is some time sir! Just a few more days!” He’d looked as if he were going to be sick before he drew a deep breath, forcefully steadying himself. “Our acting elder had a dream last night.”

“A dream?” The man had repeated. “And pray tell what was said dream about?”

“She’d claimed she could feel the winds near the cursed mountains changing and whispering. She believes that the creature will make its presence known soon.”

Now the soldiers looked uneasy as the commander smiled. “Is that so? Well then! when these winds arrive, I expect you will know what to do.”

He nodded. “Y-yes sir.”

“Good. But until then I will expect updates daily. You’d best be getting lost now…and…Kokand, was it?” Kokaf had weakly nodded as the man sighed. “I’d hope for Sakari’s sake that your next report does not leave so much to be desired.”

Kokaf’s body practically tensed at the mention of the princess’s name, but he nodded.  “Understood sir. I…I will do my best.” And with that, he’d stepped out of the alley his head lowered as Erlan quietly followed once more, careful not to get close.

He’d followed him back into the city’s marketplace. Quietly descending from the rooftop, he’d watched Kokaf stop to greet a young woman, most of whom none would ever suspect of being a princess, who was sweeping around the Atlantean-owned stalls. Her brown dress was dirtied and torn. Its back revealed the bandages that had covered her skin as she’d winced. The pain nearly overwhelmed her as he watched her falter. Then Kokaf had arrived, steadying her before he’d offered her his purchase. 

She’d smile at him. Her eyes lit up as she’d accepted his offer. Then after a few minutes or so of talking, Erlan watched the two bid each other farewell before going their separate ways as he made a note of the direction he’d seen the Seralix princess disappear to.

He’d visit her later but for now, he’d deal with Kokaf. 

He’d followed his friend carefully through the crowd until he’d found himself in front of the inn.  The words ‘The Olde Heart Shard’ had been carved into the building’s stony entrance.

“Are you going to make yourself known?” he whispered while peaking into the strange darkness that had filled his pocket. “My Aunt knows you’re here.”

“In due time,” it replied. Its small silver eyes vanished as he nodded, stepping forward to carefully push the door open. 

The inn had been as he’d last pictured it. The delicious aroma of food greeted him as he took in the sight of people from near and far who’d been seated around beautifully carved stone tables. A few Atlanteans were dining in attire he could only dream of wearing as his heart raced. 

He’d nearly been about to leave when he stumbled into a servant. The plate she’d carried had clattered to the floor as the food had landed on his cloak. 

“I’m sorry sir!” She called as she righted herself, and brushed herself off before she’d turned to look at him. His heart had all but stopped as he recognized his aunt’s face. She sighed, placing her tray down on a nearby table before looking him over. Her reddened eyes seemed sunken and hollow as he’d taken note of the dark bags that had appeared beneath them. 

She looked as if she hadn’t slept well or stopped crying for months. The guilt and pain that had gripped his heart from looking at her was far worse than any pain he’d felt prior. He really hadn’t considered the consequences had he? He’d never imagined hurting his aunt so much. 

Finally, he felt her eyes meet his. “Oh, your cloak! Would you like another? Geron keeps a few spare ones in the back.” 

Geron?

He took an uneven breath before slowly nodding. He could hardly believe it.

His aunt was here. His aunt and Geron. But-

His throat was drying as he slightly staggered at a new realization. His own aunt could no longer recognize him. But how could she? He’d been dead to the world, hadn’t he? She’d cast him a confused glance. “Right this way please,” she’d gestured for him to follow. 

He complied, wondering how she’d react when he revealed himself to her. He couldn’t blame her if she’d reacted with anger or disgust. It was what he’d deserved for nearly endangering them. 

Soon several more servants passed, more and more sporting the familiar faces of his hunting companions. To his relief, they’d all looked as if they’d been at least eating in the time he’d been gone. 

But he could feel, that behind their bright smiles and polite bows, the emptiness within them had been growing. But he’d known even under their circumstances they’d tried to stay strong. It was one of the rules of a hunter: To always stay strong and to stick together. 

And if they’d honored the code as much as he’d suspected then that had meant- “Order up!” Geron’s voice emerged from behind the counter in the back room as he gasped.

Slowly he’d turn towards the counter, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the former warrior now turned chef. Save for a few more pounds of weight he’d gained, Geron had more or less looked the same, as he adjusted his long sleeves to hide his scarred forearms. 

He’d turned to glance at them as they approached before grabbing a rag. “Another accident, Marendellis? That’s twice in one morning.”

“I know,” she grumbled, before yawning as she leaned against the counter. She looked exhausted. “At least I hadn’t been carrying any food this time.”

“You need to rest. Regardless of what the gods may think or want. Operating on such little sleep is not healthy.”

“I…I know. But don't worry,” she yawned once more. “I’ll be fine.”

Geron frowned. “You need sleep. Perhaps a good dream as we-,” If looks could kill Erlan was quite certain that Geron would’ve died many times at the hands of his aunt. Very few knew that she’d taken herbs to stop dreaming the night his mother, her sister had been executed. 

“Hmm,” Geron had paused mid-wipe as his eyes settled on Erlan. “I think we may have a few spare cloaks that are your size, sir. Do you have any preference for color?”

Erlan had looked around twice before he’d pulled off his hood and answered, “Anything but blue please.”

The silence that followed was unbearable, with neither party moving. Maybe this had been a mistake-

All traces of tiredness had disappeared from Merendellis’s face as she’d taken a step back. “That voice…I know that voice.” She looked stunned. 

Geron was the first to move, taking several steps away from the counter as he shook his head in disbelief. “You…you’re alive…they said you were dead. They showed us your hunting knife! It had blood on it!”

“It’s a long story but,” he paused to sheepishly scratch the back of his neck. Allepac was quiet now, but he was certain it had been keenly listening in. “-that wasn’t my blood…before everything went south, there was a skirmish.”

“How…how is this possible?!” Geron whispered, breaking the silence as Merendellis began to tremble. “You’ve been dead for over a month-,

“…it’s a ghost!” She breathed as she’d quickly grabbed onto Geron’s arm. “It has to be! Look at his eyes!” His aunt whispered. Her eyes flooded with tears. “His spirit has come to haunt us!”

Erlan quickly placed his hand up in a placating gesture. “No no, auntie! I’m not a ghost, and I’m not here to haunt you! I promise!”

“Prove it!” She commanded while Geron nodded. 

“Yes,” he started. “Tell us how you’d Prove to us that you are not a spirit or a shapeshifter of sorts.”

“Alright,” he looked over at the hunter carefully. As he stepped forward. Looking toward Geron he’d whispered, “I know that your full name is Geronaius del Taruk, former general of the Aturaluce empire who was my father’s closest confidant. Your general tattoo is of a circle with three slashes to represent the dawn of our three princes when you’d risen to power-,”

“Shh! Don’t say that here son do you want to get us all killed?” Geron had nervously looked about before turning his attention back to Erlan. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward to whisper, “Fine I’ll give you that…you know about my marks but what about yours?” 

 “You are the lead hunter and your largest scar runs slanted down your chest. A mark all hunters are given in honor of the hunting goddess Mavier as a mark of protection after completing their trials to protect us from the shape stealers.  Because my grand uncle had passed, I was the first one my aunt did. So When I was given mine it was slanting the wrong way, see?” He pulled open his shirt to reveal the jagged scar as his aunt gasped.

“Yes,” Geron nodded as the blood slowly returned to his face as he looked Erlan over once more. “That is him.”

 “It is. See?” He stepped forward tightly embracing his aunt as he felt her stiffen. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. And I’m sorry for any grief I caused while I was gone.” Slowly he untangled his arms from around her as he took a step back trying to gauge her reaction. But her expression was unreadable as he looked away. “You were right. I wasn’t thinking as selflessly as I thought I was. So…I’m sorry.”

“It…it is you,” she breathed the tears spilling from her eyes as she gave him an embrace of her own. Her grip on him tightened as if she’d feared that any moment he too would slip away and that none of this would be real. “Geron,” she sobbed. “He’s come back! Look at him! Is it just me or has he gotten taller?” 

“He definitely has but Careful Meren,” Geron laughed as he’d joined the pair’s embrace. “You may very well make him into a ghost with the way you’re choking him!”

Erlan nodded, partially surprised that Allepac hadn’t started complaining about the sudden squeeze as well.

“Sorry!” She squeaked her grip on him ever so slightly loosening as she laughed, wiping away her tears before she gently embraced him once more. This time she’d pressed a kiss to a temple. 

“Come,” she gestured to the spare chairs around the counter. “You must be exhausted from your travels.”

“Yes!” Geron chuckled as he stepped from around the counter. “Making your way back here from the afterlife mustn’t have been an easy venture!”

 He nodded, taking an uneasy seat as he hoarsely whispered to them, “Thanks.”

No sooner had he sat down though did his aunt begin to pelt him with questions. “What happened to you? How did you survive? Where have you been? What happened to your eyes?”

“My eyes?” He repeated. This had been the second time she’d mentioned them. “What do you mean?”

“Your eyes,” Geron carefully began as his expression wavered between politeness and uncertainty. “Well…they’re almost the reason we didn’t recognize you…Here…” he stood up, returning to the counter before he quickly withdrew a small mirror. “See for yourself,” he handed it to Erlan who quickly took in his own reflection. 

Everything had seemed normal to him, everything save for…His eyes.

What had once been the normal deep shade of brown he’d shared with his people was now showing hints of an intense grayish silver, just like the stone around his neck. 

“Oh…,” he’d started, taking a seat as he placed the mirror down. He knew he owed them answers, answers that he himself didn’t even feel he had yet. But they deserved an explanation or at least a semblance of one.

“You might want to gather the others for this,” he started. “And take a seat as well. It’s a long story.”

“Hey Geron you’re not going to believe this but-,” came Kokaf’s voice over the several trays of dirtied cups he carried as he entered the room. His voice trailed off as he took in the sight of Erlan before him.  

Without a word, he’d set the trays down on the counter before promptly passing out.

“Well, that’s Kokaf,” Merendellis sighed. “Shall I go fetch the others?”

“Yes please,” Erlan replied as Geron groaned, rubbing his temples.

It had taken at least an hour until the breakfast crowd had thinned, allowing the rest of the hunters to take a break as they’d joined him in the back.

To say they were shocked would be an understatement as the other hunters all cautiously touched and pinched him to ensure he wasn’t a ghost, with a few marveling at his strange new eye color as well.

They’d all listened quietly as he’d explained what had happened and the creature he’d met as well. 

“And you’ve been living with it all this time?” His aunt had asked as he’d nodded. “Goodness! Aren’t you afraid that it might eat you as well?”

“Yes. I’m actually very afraid,” he confessed with a nervous grin. “But it keeps on telling me that its primary source of food isn’t human flesh. So if anything I won’t have to worry about its hunger.”

“But it’s no stranger to shedding human blood, right?” Kokaf had reiterated. 

He shook his head, trying not to remember the sounds the devils had made that night while Allepac had torn them to pieces. “No. That’s how it dealt with Kommander Kerakash and his squadron.”

If things had been different, he would have half expected Kokaf to crack a joke, maybe even laugh at this. But he’d done neither instead as his expression faltered. All traces of humor evaporated from his eyes and were replaced with something he couldn’t quite identify before Kokaf stepped back.

“Isn’t this what you dreamed?” He asked Merendellis, a note of hope now present within his voice.

She nodded, evidently not looking pleased at the sudden reminder as she’d abruptly turned her attention back to Erlan.

“I suppose that explains why we never saw him again,” Merendellis smiled. “They’d never given us a straight answer on what had happened to him, only that his replacement had arrived that night.”

“It was far too quickly to be coincidental,” Geron’s fingers tapped against the countertop. “I’ve seen how quickly they’ve mobilized to replace commanders before and at best it takes them a few days to find someone. But this time they’d done it in less than a span of a day. Almost like they were expecting it to happen.” He shook his head before he continued, “But that wasn’t even the strangest part,” he’d reached beneath the counter to pull out a wanted poster. The drawing had been grossly inaccurate, but there’d been no denying that the poster was indeed for Erlan. “This started making rounds the minute Kerakash’s replacement arrived. Doesn’t make much sense to have a wanted poster of a dead person, does it? Not unless of course, you have your reasons to believe he was never dead to begin with.” The surrounding hunters nodded as Erlan looked the poster over. “We weren’t certain if you were still alive, but we had a feeling that they knew what was going on. And they knew better than to tell us the truth that something had been slaughtering them in those woods.”

“How is this new commander anyway?” Erlan asked.

“Terrible,” Merendellis sighed. “He almost makes Kerakash seem like a saint.” The others, Korkaf included, nodded in agreement.

“He likes to frequent this part of the port. I think he’s keeping an eye on us,” Geron grumbled.

“Not him,” Erlan corrected. “Someone else.”

He’d pushed his chair back. His eyes solely focused on Geron as they narrowed. “Before Kerakash was killed, he’d revealed to me that he knew of our intel lines.  His expression grew serious as he looked around the room. “We have a traitor in our midst.”

The hunters exchanged uneasy glances as he heard Geron growl, “I told you not to trust the Adakhi.” 

Erlan shook his head, “Surprisingly, I don’t think the Adakhi are behind this. Whoever is, is someone who possessed a hunter blade of ours.”

“Then you know who it is?” Merendellis asked, looking a bit surprised.

He nodded, “I do. In fact I plan-” he leaned forward whispering something into Geron’s ears carefully. “So what do you think?”

“It’s risky….but it might work,” Geron nodded, hesitantly.

“Risky?” Merendellis reiterated, now looking a bit worried. “What do you plan on doing?” His aunt had asked. 

“It’s simple really,” he replied before he leaned forward and whispered something into her ear.

“Oh my,” she gasped, placing her hand over her mouth uneasily. “That port is practically crawling with guards…And you’re sure it’ll work?”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing as he watched Geron. “Yes, and I’ll explain it to the rest of you,” he promised the watching crowd. “But In the meantime, I want to talk to you all about Allepac-,”

“Allepac?” Korkaf repeated, looking surprised. 

“It’s it, er, her name I think. I’m not sure what its origins are, but I think the name is female.”

“The monster devouring the devils named itself?” Geron asked. His eyes cautiously wandered towards the shut door. 

Despite Kedakh being an Atlantean himself, Erlan had quickly learned that their employer had been gracious in hiring them as soon as they’d lost the forest. None of them had been excited about taking up the prospect of being servants, but their families had needed the money, so they’d committed to it. 

Erlan eagerly nodded “Yes. But you should’ve seen it. The power it possesses is unlike anything before! I never thought the devils would be capable of retreat until I’d seen them cross paths with Allepac… I remember one of them yelling Primorus Asteruin when seeing it.”

The crowd of hunters exchanged looks with a few even murmuring suggestions on what it could mean. 

“Primorus is an Atlantean word that the Latin word primordius originated from, which has often been used in the form of primordialis meaning first of all,” Erlan started. “I’m not sure what Asteriun means though.”

“What does primordial mean?” Someone asked.

“It means ancient. Something that existed near the beginning of time,” Erlan explained, feeling the creature shift within his pocket.

“Excellent definition,” Allepac whispered into his mind as he grinned. 

“Thanks,” he’d thought back. 

Merendellis looked surprised, “Where did you learn that?” 

“Same place he must’ve learned to pack on a few pounds!” Kokaf teased before roughly slapping his back. “Look at you! You’re nearly fat now!”

He chuckled. “Heh…yeah, but we’ve been doing a lot of farming lately. Allepac says that the cursed mountains are dormant volcanoes and they house a lot of fertile soil that we can use. I’ve planted some stuff recently so it’ll take a while but as soon as it’s ready for harvest I’m going to convince Allepac to let me bring it back to the village.”

The curiosity had died for a moment when the door cracked open and Kedakh stepped in.

His eyes had searched the room, “Good afternoon,” he called, politely. 

“Good afternoon,” the crowd had politely replied.

“The break is over, huh?” Geron asked as he began to wipe the counter.

“I’d give you longer if I could,” Kedakh confessed as he stepped in, allowing the door to close behind him. “But there are…certain guests who demand my attention.”

The crowd’s expression changed as all hints of curiosity vanished. “It’s The commander,” Merendellis explained to Erlan before turning her attention back to  Kedakh. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of them.”

“Thank you,” he nodded gratefully before stepping out as a few hunters joined him.

Merendellis placed a small kiss on Erlan’s cheek before she followed Geron into the kitchen, promising to see him as soon as the day had ended.

Now Erlan was alone….well almost alone. 

“So,” came ’s voice. The laughter in his eyes had returned as he took a seat next to Erlan. “How’s it feel to come back from the dead?”

“Tiring,” he smiled as he felt his friend sling his arm across his back. “Thanks to Allepac I haven’t gotten one minute of rest.”

“Allepac,” Kokaf frowned, slowly repeating the name. “Is that really what it calls itself right?”

“Yeah, that’s her name,” he answered.

“It’s crazy to think something that powerful that exists would actually bother to do something like that.”

He’d cast Kokaf a sideways glance, as he’d heard Allepac’s ticking echo in his mind. “I don’t see why not. They’re highly sentient. Allepac has a mind of her own.”

Now Kokaf looked surprised “Oh? You know they say the devil’s crystals are the same way,” he gestured to Erlan’s necklace. “I heard someone say that they feed off the emotions of their people or something like that…you think it’s alive too?”

“Maybe? But I’d hope not.”

“Why not?”

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully, “Because if it’s sentient then it may very well be their biggest proponent, and if it is, what will that mean for the rest of us?”

“Nothing,” Kokaf simply answered.

“What?” Erlan’s eyes snapped back to him.

“It means nothing, not if you have your own monster you can throw at it.” A smile has spread across Kokaf’s face. A sharp contrast to the defeated expression he’d seen him wear earlier.

“Allepac isn’t a crystal. I can’t just wave my hand and make them do what they don't want to do. Trust me I’ve gotten into enough quarrels to learn that…It took a lot to convince them to let me come here too.”

“But it can be convinced, can’t it? And reasoned with?”

He’d slowly nodded. “For a price, yes.”

“A price huh…and what was this price it asked for?”

He stopped, staring deeply into his friend’s eyes. Briefly, he debated on whether or not he should tell him, before shaking his head. “Here isn’t the place to discuss it-,”

“Then-?” Kokaf had asked as his grip on his sleeve tightened. 

Erlan carefully looked either way, ensuring the two were alone before he leaned down to whisper, “The Portia docks.”

“The Portia docks?!” Kokaf stammered. “Those docks aren’t safe at night!”

“I know, but they’re where we’ve usually met my contacts in the past. You remember, right?”

Kokaf nodded, “O-of course… But your plan-?”

“Is going to happen elsewhere. Kerakash told me a hunter was the traitor,” he confessed. “So I plan on telling said hunter to meet me at the Grenier port, one hour later than everyone else. Of course, he doesn’t know that it’ll be an hour later than the time I gave everyone else. But there’s only one way to deal with a traitor. ”

“And what time do you plan on meeting with everyone else?”

“Midnight.”

“That’s the meeting time?”

“That’s what I’ve told everyone, save for the traitor.”

“Have you already spoken to the traitor?” Kokaf asked, picking at his apron.

“I have,” Erlan nodded. “He thinks we’re all meeting an hour past midnight.”

Kokaf’s eyes left his. “I see…Alright then. I’ll meet you at the docks then. Will you bring it?”

“Bring what?” 

“The thing, you know, Allepay?”

“Allepac and yes” he patted his pocket. “I’ll bring her.”

Kokaf nodded, soon returning to work a few minutes after as Erlan had stood up to take his leave.

On his way out, he’d stopped near the entrance where he’d seen Keradkh lingering with his children. He was holding his daughter, playing with her as she’d laughed. The man’s blue eyes lit up in surprise as he watched Erlan approach.

“Ah! Good morning,” he’d politely greeted. “May I help you?”

“You already have,” Erlan said quietly as he pulled his hood over his head. “Thank you, for taking care of my people.”

“Ah, it was no problem,” Kedakh assured him as he set his child down, watching her scamper after her brother to play outside. “When I heard what the crown had issued, I knew I couldn’t turn them away.” He’d reached for a glass, examining it before placing it down. “You’d be surprised to know that quite a few of us feel this way. Some of us have always felt this way,” his fingers held his glowing crystal.

“I know I cannot speak for every Atlantean, but I’ve been alive long enough to know that we Atlanteans used to be a beacon of progress. A symbol of advancement, until one day, some of us lost sight of who we were,” he’d picked up another glass examining it. “And so we dragged the entire world into the darkness that had enveloped us.”

He shook his head before placing down both glasses. Then he picked up another. “And now I feel that the hour of retribution draws near. The sun will soon set on this empire, and rise with another…I suppose it would be too late to ask for forgiveness?” He’d force his eyes to meet his as the hand that held the glass began to tremble. 

Erlan shook his head, “No. It’s never too late.”

Kedakh placed this glass down as well and his eyes went to the table where the guards sat, then 

 to Erlan. “Whatever you are planning to do. Please, do it carefully. He’s been waiting for you, any of you to make a move before he retaliates. All he needs is one reason, not even a good reason.”

“I know,” Erlan nodded. “But I promise things will change tonight,” he’d cast the commander’s table one final look before he sighed. “Stay safe Kedakh. Until we meet again.”

“Likewise,” Kedakh replied, watching the young man leave the inn before disappearing into the crowd.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

“You-,” Sakari, the Seralix princess started, her grip on her broom growing defensive. Upon revealing himself to her, he’d seen her expression quickly change from disgruntled to horrified. “Weren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“Give me until the day end of the day,” he’d sighed, watching as a few Seralix merchants had cast him suspicious looks. “But It’s nice seeing you too, princess. You wouldn’t be able to spare a moment or two to talk, would you?” 

She’d lowered the broom before glaring at him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back from the dead to ask for something like this.” She yanked up her sleeve, revealing the bandages that had barely covered the angry welts on her arms. “See this? This was for the last time we’d helped you out on one of your little escapades. So give me one good reason why I should listen to anything you have to say.”

He’d heal them later. He’d owed them that much, he thought before speaking. “I know this isn’t fair compensation, but I thought you’d like to hear me out, because I know more than anyone else just how much you’ll need this-,” he’d withdrawn the beautiful shawl that Allepac had woven for him a few hours before they’d arrived, noting how the princess’s eyes had widened upon seeing it. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Designed to keep anyone warm in the harshest of winters that plague your land. And there’s more where that came from. Unless of course you’re not interested-,”

“No!” she yelled, panic on her face before she regained her posture and drew in a deep breath. Then her eyes met his. “Very well. What do you want?”

“Could we discuss this in a more private place?” He’d stepped towards her as he’d whispered into her ear. “I hear our good friend the commander is all too eager when it comes to frequenting these parts.”

No sooner had he uttered the words ‘commander’ did he notice her expression darken as she muttered something in Seralixian before grabbing his arm. “Follow me,” was all she’d commanded as she dragged him to the alleyway. Her size betrays her strength as she pushes him into one of the alleyway’s dark rooms before locking the door behind her.

It had taken his eyes a moment or so to adjust to the room’s darkness as he’d heard the sounds of movement from all around him. Quickly a few candles were lit as he’d seen the princess stand at the end of the table, several bandaged Seralix merchants were at her side. Any traces of the pitiful sweeper girl he’d seen in the market had vanished as she’d commanded, “Alright, spirit. State your purpose.”

“Ah,” he’d cleared his throat before uneasily sitting down. “I’m not a spirit you see-,”

“But you died and came back to life.”

“Well, technically I didn’t die-,” “No, no,” Allepac had interjected within his thoughts. “She is correct. You did die.” He frowned. “-Alright, never mind, so maybe I did die, but I came back to life.”

“You should’ve stayed dead,” one of the Seralix merchants hissed. “Ever since you died, that new bastard has been torturing us! Like we are nothing more than your scapegoats!” Several of the merchants had rolled up their clothing to reveal their bloodied bandages as Erlan winced.

He was going to have a lot of healing to do.

“Does he ever say under what charges?”

“It’s nothing more than conspiracy really,” Saraki sighed. “His name is Kommander Kogash, and from what we gather, he’s one of the greatest generals in their empire. He was the head commander who led the charge against us,” she’d scowled before everyone’s expressions darkened. “The fact that they’ve sent him of all people here means that whatever is transpiring on your lands is serious. But that’s beside the point.” Now she’d taken a seat. “Earlier you proposed to give me some of those clothes you’d claimed were resistant to our winters.”

“I did.” He answered, withdrawing the cloth before he’d place it on the table. He’d watched as the merchants had looked it over in awe, reveling over the sturdy yet soft material as well as the design of the shawl. 

Of course, the Seralix design of the material had been intentional on his part, hence why he’d requested Allepac to make it as such. He’d always known that the Seralix were a rather isolated group of people, so the best way to appeal to them was through their own methods.

“It’s perfect,” one whispered.

“Beautiful even!”

“You didn’t steal them from anyone else did you?” he shook his head. 

“That was custom-made, in case you were wondering, and I assure you there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Saraki had glanced from the cloth on the table to Erlan before she’d leaned back in her chair. Her eyes regarded him wryly as he’d heard her chuckle. “You want something, don’t you?” She’d laughed again. “What a dead man could ask for is beyond me, but go ahead. Enlighten me.”

“Friendship.”

The laughter had stopped.

“What?”

He leaned forward “You asked if I wanted something and I told you that I wanted friendship.”

The room had fallen into an uneasy silence before she’d asked, “What sort of friendship?”

“Maybe the meaningful kind that would help you out of a rough winter, maybe even provide you with some cattle for the future-,”

She’d crossed her arms. “In exchange for what exactly? Why do you extend this olive branch to us over the other nations? Our economy is nearly nonexistent now. We have no money to offer you.”

“But you do have something that neither the Adakhi nor Relaki have,” now it was his turn to smile wryly. “I know that you have something far more valuable than food and money. Something that the royal family has guarded with its life for generations.”

Saraki’s eyes had promptly narrowed to slits. “We’re not selling it-,”

“Good, because I’m not interested in buying” He shook his head. “No, no you see what I want is to merely maintain a good relationship with the rightful owner of these treasures. Not take them for myself. After all, doing that wouldn’t make me any better than our common enemy, would it?”

She’d hesitantly nodded, seemingly conceding to him the point when a man, an advisor perhaps had stepped forward, “careful your highness,” he’d whispered. “Spirits have been known to ensnare the living in lethal deals.”

“I’m well aware of what a spirit can do. Erlan on the other hand-,” she’d looked as if she’d contemplated his offer, before speaking once more. “Your offer does sound tempting if a bit unrealistic. So all you wish to do is to ensure a friendship between our two nations?”

“Not just a friendship. But a potential trade deal as well. I plan on getting the other nations involved soon. It might look unpromising now, but as soon as we stabilize our economies I promise you this deal will be far more beneficial than anyone could have imagined.”

“Such a thing will be impossible as long as Kogash is around. He’s deliberately assigned us to different districts because of this. If he were to catch wind of this, he’d send you back to the underworld.”

Erlan smiled, “He’s welcome to try of course, given how I think this will be his last night in the city.”

“Last…night?” She repeated. Her eyes were cautiously filled with curiosity. 

“Yes. Let’s just say that if Kogash wasn’t aware of what had happened to Kerakash before, then he’d be in for a rude awakening tonight.”

Now they seemed excited as he watched a few of them whisper before turning his attention back to him as the princess spoke, “If you can make sure that commander doesn’t live to see tomorrow then you can consider us your lifelong Allies.”

“Through thick and thin?”

She nodded, “You have my word.”

“Alright then.”

“Will you require any of our assistance?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“Alright, But,” she interjected. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“All in due time, Your Highness. All in due time but for now, why don’t we discuss what happens tonight? ”

[adornesibley]

IT'S GONNA BE MAY: a Newsletter

Reading: The Land of Lost Things by John Connolly, How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

Finished Reading: Horrorstör, My Best Friend’s Exorcism, and We Sold Our Souls by Grady Hendrix, The Secrets we Keep by Shirley Patton, The Vegetarian by Han Kang 

Podcast: Unwell: A Midwestern Gothic Mystery

Playing: God Hand and Nier (Jank is Good, Jank is Life)

Making: Doom levels

Writing: Project E and *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧NEW THING*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ (which I will talk about below)

Word Count: Word counts are just a way the patriarchy can arbitrarily muffle voices it doesn’t like… but it’s 167338 

TLDR: I talk about my new short story anthology project, word counts and the desperation of doe-eyed newbie authors, the insular nature of TTRPGs and nerd culture jargon, glossary provided for her pleasure.

Firstly, new thing! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ  I’m working on a super secret idea which I’m going to keep secret until precisely … now. It can be summed up in five words: TECHNO HORROR ANTHOLOGY FLOPPY DISK. Take yourself back to a bygone era, where the hair was big and often mulleted (wish that trend stayed dead, crimped hair stayed away but mullets came back? WTF humans) to when everyone is reading their Goosebumps or playing with their Tamagotchis. Close your eyes. Can’t you hear the dial-up now. Smell your breakfast cooking in your George Foreman grill. I know I’m talking about a large year range but for most of us millennials the 80s and 90s is just a blob monster of slow computers and corded phones and Scrunchies and listening to the radio, waiting for your fav song to play so you can hit record on your cassette player. I will keep you posted here on the progress and continue to give hints as to the full plan with all the gory details of its taxonomy. For now, this is all you get.

Project E’s progress was not so bad. I’m actually really proud of this word count. I shaved off so much this month. I was productive AF. And yet I feel compelled to continue on. The average scifi novel length is up to 150k words and I’m still well above that. Then you go to the average DEBUT scifi novel length and psht… 120k. If I remove 50k from Project E, that’s a whole book on its own!  

I’ll admit that sometimes, a book is really and truly longer than it needs to be, but let’s also admit that plenty of books get published that are CERTAINLY longer than they should be. I’m looking at you, Herman Melville! So to act as though this is an aspect which would make it impossible to publish a novel is disingenuous. The shit reality is simply that more words means more ink and pages, and publishers are scared of losing money, so unless you’re well established or the concept is a “sure thing” then they’re unlikely to give you the time of day.

I have no proof, and this is not a statement I’d backup in any legal capacity, but I’d imagine it’d also be quite easy to find a manuscript which says things you don’t like, and then force the author to gut it to fit your requested word count. Once it barely resembles its initial form, then it’ll be toothless enough to be allowed to get by. New authors are desperate to have their stories accepted. We’ll do anything. ANYTHING. This isn’t to say that Lit Agents and publishers are mustache-twirling villains. I’m saying that shitty people exist in every corner of society, and those folks would likely be happy to abuse their positions of power.

So, a month and a half ago I watched a video about the TTRPG community and its insularity. Well, technically the video was about ShadowDark, but Indestructoboy spent a significant part of the video discussing this problem. I’ve never considered how impossible it would be to understand folks in our community when we’re discussing games. “So I just got to try out a new OSR1 TTRPG2, it’s a Roll Under3 3d64 system with no Death Saves5, or HP6 and it’s entirely GMless7!” Just imagine for a second that you don’t have access to the acronyms or specialized jargon. That sentence would be word salad!

Shit, just TTRPG is useless to anyone not already in the community. Tabletop Roleplaying Games have the power to be an incredible tool for community building and a creative outlet, but by creating so much shorthand, we force folks to learn a tertiary language to even engage with the simplest examples of this style of game! I think that a good stop-gap would be a Glossary of terms in the back of tabletop roleplaying game books, but long term I think it’s pretty important to consider that maybe doing away with the acronyms at LEAST would benefit the community significantly. (Or if you’re gonna use them, consider explaining them somewhere in your post/ book/ video.)

Support weird. Support indie.

OSR either means Old School Revival or Old School Renaissance. What these means is up for discussion and debate, but the “Revival” side appears to be focused on literally reviving old-school games like Dungeons and Dragons 2nd Edition while the “Renaissance” side takes ideas from these old Tabletop game systems and adapts them to more modern game design sensibilities. OR AT LEAST THOSE ARE MY DEFINITIONS.

TTRPG is simply short for Tabletop Roleplaying Game(s) which generally involves a certain level of imagining the actions (theatre of the mind) of a character whom you embody in that game, where you must take on the role of someone who likely does not think or act like you would.

Roll Under is a type of system where you will be rolling dice to try to get a number lower than your character’s ability scores. (The numbers that represent their Mental and Physical aspects) If you do, you succeed, and if you don’t, you fail to complete whatever task you were attempting.

d6 is shorthand for six-sided dice, which is the cube dice most folks think of when they hear “dice.” In this example, there is a 3 at the beginning which tells you that you would be rolling three six-sided dice and adding them together.

Death Saves are a concept from Dungeons and Dragons. When your character loses all of their health points/ hit points (a number representing how healthy your character is) then they fall unconscious and are forced to roll a twenty-sided dice each time their turn comes around. If they fail to roll a 10 or higher, then they have a “failed” death save. If they roll a 10 or higher then they “succeeded”. Traditionally you need three of either of them to finish being in this unconscious state. If you get three failures, you die, and if you get three successes, your character “stabilizes” but remains unconscious for some time. There are more rules, but those are for someone running a game to explain, this gives the basic understanding, I feel.

HP is short for Health Points or Hit Points. This tells you how much damage a character can receive before they fall unconscious or die.

GMless. So, first, a GM is a “Game Master” and their job is to narrate what happens around your characters and to roleplay pretty much everyone in existence that isn’t your character. In Dungeons and Dragons they’re called “Dungeon Masters” or DMs. So, a game that is GMless simply means that there is no Game Master and instead the players are cooperatively telling the story together, usually by allowing the outcomes of dice to tell them whether they are succeeding or failing at certain tasks.

[horizon-verizon]

"We stan Criston for respecting sex workers and being the only feminist man in probably the entirety of GOT. And we hate Daemon for constantly making misogynistic remarks about any woman, generally his wives, that he doesn't like, emotionally neglecting his second wife , grooming Rhaenyra, cheating on Rhaenyra, neglecting his children, committing treason every other sentence, and that's not even half of it."

I mean… what book did they read? When did Daemon make misogynistic remarks about his wives there? Neglected Laena? Groom Rhaenyra? Neglecting his children? All this is never named in the book. I remember that Daemon married two pretty badass women and that he completely accepted the fact of being below his wife, future queen. And that he left Baela, his daughter, a lot of freedom. Deceiving Rhaenyra is something that has never even been proven. And what are the other supposed betrayals named? In my memories, he is on Rhaenyra's side all along and literally dies for her cause and to avenge Lucerys.

Even for the show, Daemon didn't heal Rhaenyra, or make misogynistic remarks towards the women in his life.

Rhaena is the only child with whom a problem seems to exist (and non-existent in the book once again), and it is frankly ridiculous. I want to say that just because something is shown / said in a series does not necessarily make sense for the characters / narratively speaking, or even that it is screaming any truth. It's just a ridiculous and overlooked part of the storyline, no more no less. Other than that, Daemon seems like a decent dad to his kids and stepsons from what little we've seen (unlike the other dads in this series). Wow, Negligent Father: Make Baela learn High Valyrian himself. Go find dragon eggs for his babies himself with Rhaenyra. Try to comfort Viserys II when he cries. Defend his sons-in-law. Yes. Behavior reflecting overall parental neglect and disinterestedness… Let me laugh.

As for Daemon's so-called infidelities, none have taken place so far in the series. As for insults, I'm not sure it can be considered deeply misogynistic to insult a woman you hate and were forced to marry, + the daughter of a man he hates, working actively to steal his niece and wife's right to the throne… Basically, he insults a woman he hates, classic human behavior. And another woman who literally deserves so much insult I can barely name them. In the book, Daemon actually never insulted Alicent, apparently treating her as her position as queen demanded, although he despised her.

And… Whether it's the book version or the series… Wtf for Criston Cole?! BE A FEMINIST?! But what have these people smoked my word?!

Basically, this commentary is a mix of head canon, mixing series and book. How can they expect to be taken seriously?! This kind of comment baffles me. They're crazy, that's the only possible explanation.

*EDITED POST* (12/14/23)

Daemon

I don't think book!Daemon cheated on Rhaenyra with anyone, not even with Mysaria anymore. He also never neglected any child. And he hardly committed any sort of treason against Viserys or Rhaenyra so much as never taking to Viserys' orders that really just isolated them both.

However, Daemon called his wife Rhea Royce his "bronze bitch" told through his own writings. I say this in another post:

Remember him and Mysaria, when he attached her sex work to his "curse" of her when he realized she helped Rhaenyra become distrustful of him? And again, calling your wife an ugly bitch who resembles the ugly sheep of her ugly homeland because you hate that you were forced to marry her, and constantly, is misogyny.

Yeah, Rhaena Targaryen (rider of Dreamfyre and Queen Dowager) took her frustrations out on Androw Farman when Elissa left and took the dragon eggs, becoming less amenable to being married to him and stuck almost similarly to Daemon.

However, while Androw still had that incel quality jump out of him as soon as people around him began to mock him enough to actually kill only women (which I think shows how that misogyny was in him all along), Rhea Royce had done nothing and will continue to do nothing to Daemon. Daemon began the ill-will between them by being so obvious in his dislike for her. Rhea definitely had justified feelings of discontent towards him for this alone if for nothing else.

Daemon's taking his frustrations on her because she was available and the one he's tied to, but 1) She warranted less than Androw 2) Daemon will always have more grace as a man than Rhana, espe since we know he fucked his way around in a way Rhaena had to mask through marriage. Do I feel bad that he was forced at 16 to marry Rhea, yes. But Rhea did not ask for it and Daemon has his freedom. Yet Daemon implies that she is a bad feminine presence by using a word that uses her femaleness. and connecting to how undesirable she is specifically to him--she is not the "right" type of woman for him. And her entire identity becomes wrapped up in that. finally, you know he's said this about her several times.

Yes, Mysaria was a traitor to them and turned Rhaenyra against him. Why did he have to use her sex work past to define, emphasize, or characterize her treachery? Why are they put side by side? When we already have societal misogyny against female sex workers for being "loose", inferior women?

Criston

I agree that it is hypocritical (and just stupid) to stan Criston while criticizing Daemon when the book and show Critson are the most flagrant misogynist men in the story (aside from Aegon, Aemond, Borros Baratheon). In the show, he explicitly calls Rhaenyra a "cunt" after he says she is a spoiled woman and years after she rejected his nonsensical proposal...after he accepted the chance to sleep with her....after he quite obviously lusted after her for the years before her 18th name day.

Yeah, the show made a mess of what sort of consent he was giving to her in their sex scene; however, it's strange and contradictory for people to claim that he primarily proposed because he genuinely loved her...then go on to say or repeat that he only slept with her because he was afraid of her position and was her subordinate.

A woman who convinces herself to "love" or devote herself to a man is not in the same danger as a man subordinate to a woman who is herself and doesn't know how stable her position as heir/future Queen is on account of her society's inclination against female rulers.

[bookshelfdreams]

For the tarot ask game! My favorite! The "beating youself with sticks card" or as it's oficially known, 5 of wands.

(If you dont want to feel free to ignore)

Five of wands - conflict, fierce competition, fear of failure

(you didn't put a character so you're getting no one's favourite XD)

I wonder what it must be like to be Chauncey Badminton. Imagine, just for a moment. You have made it; you are an admiral in the royal navy, among highest military ranks one can achieve. You worked your way up, too, you achieved your station by your own merit. Your twin brother, who probably has been in the military just as long, is only a captain.

And your brother. You have the same face, but that's where the resemblance ends. Where you are ambitious, driven, pragmatic, he is careless and lacks discipline. I said earlier you joined the military together, but maybe that's not true. Maybe he came in later, after a string of failed ventures. Maybe you gave him a boat and told him to go hunt pirates and thought, There's no way for this to go wrong. An easy enough job, rewarding, something to keep him occupied.

How did you feel when you learned of his death?

Were you shocked? Did you recoil at the sight of his face, so much like your own, and barely recognizable?

And what did you think when one of his officers told you a man namend Bonnet was responsible?

Did you even remember him? I think you did. You remembered an easily frightened boy, weak, always crying. Awkward and ridiculous, someone whose mere sight filled you with disgust for reasons you wouldn't be able to articulate (not that anyone would ever expect you to).

He was who killed your brother? Stede Bonnet? Who could barely hold a rapier as a child, and most likely hasn't improved a wit as an adult? That Stede Bonnet?

Your brother's death is one thing but this, this is unacceptable. This is insulting. Of course death is always to be expected in service of king and country and all that. Dying honorably on the battlefield. But killed by an imbecile, and returned wrapped in a bizarre cat flag? How dare he.

And then there's something else, isn't there. The fleet is at your command the King says (that sniveling, drugged-up idiot, though you are very careful to keep such thoughts hidden) and you recognize a golden opportunity for what it is. A chance to once more prove yourself.

It should be easy, and it is, at first. You find a traitor, a pathetic excuse for a man, though you are careful not to let him know that. He disgusts you, as they all do.

You find the ship. You board the ship. Bonnet is exactly as you remember him, over-dressed, over-groomed, no spine to speak of. It takes barely five minutes for him to break down sobbing and sign a confession.

Pathetic.

Death by firing squad is practically a mercy. You could almost feel charitable as you pronounce the sentence. About time someone put Bonnet out of his misery.

Black beard, on the other hand - that's a formidable opponent. Even behind bars, even shackled and surrounded by guns, he has something to him, a captivating aura that makes you feel off-balance, like he's the one holding all the cards. His mere presence makes the ship feel off, makes the shadows seem darker, makes you wonder what hides behind corners. Of course you don't let that show, you have perfect control over yourself, but secretly you are more than happy to relinquish him into the hands of that traitor. He will not be your problem soon.

But.

Well, it all goes to shit after that, doesn't it? That pathetic little weakling inspiring such fierce loyalty in his crew of deplorables when they should be glad to be rid of him - that's one thing, but even your own damn officers take his side!

Taking measures! Against you!

Putting their filthy hands on you, when you're an admiral, for fuck's sake!

They don't quite lock you up, but you're brought to your cabin and it's strongly suggested you do not leave it. They even have the gall, the audacity to post someone at your door. You can see his back through the little window. You ought to have them all degraded, disciplined, flogged as soon as you make land and are in the company of sane people again.

This is akin to mutiny.

And it just - it will not end. You keep waiting for a moment when everyone wakes up, when people will realize what they did, to you. You! You keep waiting for your sailors to look at each other in horror, then beg your forgiveness.

But no. Bonnet is enrolled in the privateering academy, just like that, like it means nothing that he murdered an English officer. Your brother! Twice, thrice, four times the man Bonnet will ever be (all Nigel's many personality flaws nonwithstanding. You were well aware of his drinking, his mean streak, his attitude that could veer off into carelessness, at times).

No, Bonnet, completely unscathed, prancing around like he owns the fucking place, like he has any right to be there. Here. On this island, this earth.

(Maybe that's the point where you look at your bottle and wonder, briefly, where the contents went. You ignore the look the innkeeper gives you as you gesture for another.)

No, there's no sign of things turning back normal. Is there. It's Bonnet; something about him that just - well turns everything upside down, doesn't it? Nothing's as it. Fucking. Supposed to be.

You're not supposed to suffer this insubordination. Your brother isn't supposed to be dead.

There's the barracks. Strangely, you don't recall getting up, or walking here, but now that you are, it is obvious what you must do. Bonnet is supposed to be dead.

You're only rectifying that

[realm-sweet-realm]

Memory Lane

I know that having one's own fan cast for the Bendy characters is a bit out of fashion now, but I wanted to take out my Norman Polk and play with him like an old toy. I hope you all enjoy this.

---

The lost one struggled against his restraints. If he had anything resembling a heart, it would have been beating out of his chest. Behind him was the sound of the angel sharpening her sawblade. The lost one may no longer remember his former life, his name, or even the name of the lost one settlement he'd been plucked from, but he remembered one thing: the angel was dangerous.

The angel's high heels clacked against the floor as she came closer, moving slowly. Perhaps, the lost one thought, she was savouring the moment, watching him squirm. She began humming a little tune as she lowered the blade to the lost one's chest.

And that's when the lost one's life flashed before his eyes.

---

"So if they make it through all of the bases, that's called a home run?" Norman asked as he clung to his dad and the horse trotted along under them.

"That's right. And we used to watch the games in these big buildings called 'stadiums,' or listen to them on the radio. It was fun."

"When you get us out of here, can we go to a baseball game?"

"It'll be the first thing we do once we have money."

Norman snuggled into his dad's back. He usually had so many questions about the world beyond the commune, but at the moment he was fresh out of them, and apparently, his dad was fresh out of important explanations. Norman thought back on his father's explanations to try and come up with some more.

In the real world, when you own something, no one's allowed to take it away just because they thought someone else could use it more.

In the real world, a single accusation wouldn't end your life that quickly. We have courts that demand evidence. And the death penalty's rare.

In the real world, we aren't ruled by a single leader who claims to be chosen by God. We have leaders of cities, states, and countries, and we're allowed to talk smack about them and vote them out. Which is good because they still have too much power.

"Why do people in the real world let the leaders have too much power?" Norman asked. "Aren't they better than us?"

"No, they're made of the same stuff the people in here are. Look, I've explained a lot to you, but just assume that there's an unspoken 'but it's not that simple and there are still problems out there,' after every sentence, got it?"

"Got it."

The two arrived at the trapping grounds, which were about an hour's horse ride out from the commune. Norman's dad dismounted from the horse and tied it up as Norman slid off. The two got out their knives and set to work collecting rabbits and re-setting traps. Frost was melting off the plants as the sun rose, and as they worked, they talked. Out here, they could talk about whatever they wanted.

Just as they finished up, Norman spotted something: on a distant hill was a brown horse tied to a tree. The horse they'd ridden in on was black. At the distance, it was hard to tell if it was one of the commune's horses, but they were over five days' ride out from anywhere else, and there was no reason for anyone else to be there except to spy on them.

"Dad," Norman whispered. "Someone is here."

Norman's dad nodded. They would be quiet for the rest of the trip.

The lost one remembered feeling calm at the time, secure because he could tell his father felt safe so long as they took precautions. But the memory brought him devastation. It was days later that his father would be banished for corruption of a youth, and Norman never saw him again.

---

Norman had been mopping up muddy boot tracks on the corner store's linoleum floor when the clock struck five. He started mopping harder and faster so Elizabeth wouldn't be waiting for him. When he was finished and the mop put away, he met her at the front door and they headed out into the brightly-lit evening city.

"Not such a bad place to work, huh?" Elizabeth asked, smiling brightly.

"Not bad at all," Norman said. It had been very interesting seeing so many people come and go that day. Norman could see their faces calculating a thousand choices, most of them difficult. He and Elizabeth had joined the world at a bad time, it seemed. Something called "The Great Depression" had left a lot of people destitute. A whole lot of people had a whole lot less than their menial jobs and a family member to stay with.

The two got home to Liz's aunt's apartment. It was a nice place- homey. He’d heard that it wasn’t normal for a New York home to have so many crystals and dried herbs, but having just escaped the cult last week, he had little sense of what was normal out here, and if gaining one would keep him from appreciating little things like that, maybe he didn’t want one.

The two helped the older woman prepare dinner and ate together.

"I'm going to take a walk. See what i can find in the city," Norman announced once they were done.

“Can I come with you?” Elizabeth asked.

“Sure,” Norman said, unsurprised. He could see that she was attracted to him. She’d been rather nervous to be with him before because they didn’t have a choice. But now that they did…

The two set out to see what they could see. They went to a bakery, a bookstore, a pawn shop, and then heard whispers of a 'speakeasy' and decided to see what that was. They ended up ducking into what looked like a residential house but was full of people dancing, drinking, and laughing. Norman had never seen anything like it before. For a moment, he just stood there, people-watching. Joy and freedom were in the air.

"Wanna join them?" Elizabeth asked, pulling on Norman's arm.

"Why not?" Norman replied.

The two melted into the crowd. They passed by a couple of ladies making out, and Norman decided that he might as well give his own love life a shot.

"You know, I never wanted to be betrothed to you, because I don't want you to have to be with me, but... now that it's our choice, would you like to try dating?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, her green eyes lighting up as they met his.

The two made out in plain view of the partygoers. In the middle of so many oddball people, they fit right in.

The lost one remembered Elizabeth's love. It had lasted him a good, long time.

---

"And this is the music department," Mr. Drew said, leading Norman into a new set of bright, yellow-coloured hallways, "Can you imagine cartoons without music? I certainly wouldn't want to!" The two walked past a number of offices- one with a "deadline looming, do not disturb," sign on it- as Joey rambled about the importance of music to put some soul into cartoons. Before they knew it, they'd reached the end of a hallway, which culminated in a double door with the words "recording studio," painted across it in whimsical font. "And here's where the magic happens," he said, "And, conveniently enough, where you'll be working!"

Joey opened the door to reveal a number of musicians noisily playing their instruments. A red-haired, tired-looking older man was waiting for them. Norman could tell he was eager to see them and bored out of his mind.

"Alright, Vince," Joey said to the man. "Show Norman here the ropes and you can leave your role as projectionist behind and join the writing department. I'll leave you to it." Ah, that was why he was bored- he was a creative type in a not-so-creative job. No mysteries to this one.

Vince and Norman exchanged introductions, and Vince took Norman up to the projection booth. He guided Norman as he ran the film through the reels of the camera as the music department was in swing.

"I suppose I should be thanking you for taking the job off my hands," Vince said. "It's mindless work once you get a knack for it."

Norman nodded. "I hope writing suits you better."

He looked out at the crowd of musicians. He could see a lot of hidden crushes and a lot of hidden grudges. It looked like there'd be some fun drama in this place. That was another thing the lost one remembered now: he'd been incredible at reading people, to the point of considering it a power of his. It had certainly given him some entertainment over the years.

But Norman also sensed that a lot of the people below him were unhappy. Strained. Crushed. Up until then, the bright creative culture of the studio was making Norman wonder if Grant's cautionings about the place were overblown. Now, he could see Grant's point.

---

"Do you want to know something else about Joey Drew?" Norman asked Grant, grinning as he sipped from his golden finch coffee mug. Inside, his daughter Olivia was having a play date with Grant's two daughters.

"What?" Grant asked, an owlish excitement on his face. Grant loved hearing secrets about Joey. They took a bit of mystery from the man and made him less intimidating to him.

"Him and Sammy."

Grant stared at him, wide-eyed and skeptical.

"No joke, I've seen Sammy comin' out of Joey's office all flushed and showing all the signs of shame and fear and lust."

Grant laughed. "Well, I don't want to say it, but..."

"They deserve each other? I suppose they do."

Grant nodded. "It's hard to believe that someone with as much pride as Sammy would put up with someone like that. But then, with what you've told me about him... the inside really doesn't match the outside, now does it?"

"It absolutely does not. Anyhow, you're still having Shawn and Lacie over to for poker tonight, right?"

"Definitely. I can't wait for you to meet them."

"Daddy, look what I made!"

Olivia handed Norman a beautiful watercolour painting of a horse. Norman had studied a little art for his daughter's sake, but even the most naive person on earth could have seen the skill that went into it. Later on, he'd tell her what she'd done wrong and right with the anatomy and shading and whatnot, but for now, he didn't want to take her away from her playmates for too long.

"Good girl. I'll take a closer look at it later," he said, handing it back to her.

---

The halls of the studio had been dim that night. Ink oozed from the pipes and seemingly the very walls like a fungus, staining mosaics created by their artists and posters that had once contained positive messages like, "work hard, work happy." This place used to have at least the appearance of an almost saccharinely friendly workplace. Now, it was downright eerie. Filled with the same energy as Norman's childhood community. He hated it.

Norman had stayed late that night. Why? Simple. Sammy Lawrence had stayed late as well, despite the music department experiencing a rare moment in which it was well ahead of schedule with no work that could have been done early. Norman had already strongly suspected that Sammy was up to something. Anyone could have seen that Sammy had been very off lately, moreso than ever. And Norman could sense a great pain, guilt, and fear weighing on him. Like he'd killed someone and would have to again.

Norman was going to find out what Sammy was doing. He had to. He turned the corner towards Sammy's office, and suddenly felt a large metal object hit him hard and repeatedly on the head and jaw.

When Norman woke up, he was bound, gagged, blindfolded, and lying on the floor, covered in ink. Next to him was what was presumably another person, inadvertently rubbing against Norman as they squirmed and attempted to speak. No more than an hour later, Norman began to hear ink-covered boots sloshing against the ink-covered ground.

"Sheep, sheep, sheep, it's time for sleep," came the smooth and charismatic voice of Sammy Lawrence.

Norman attempted to get himself upright. An axe dug through his side. The axe slashed again and again at his torso as Norman rose unsteadily to his feet. Another slash and he fell, hitting his head and going unconscious.

That had been the last moment he'd been human, the lost one realized.

---

Norman came back to, still tied to the gurney. Alice used the saw in a circular motion on his chest. His instincts told him to be afraid of being pierced, but strangely enough, its contact was only uncomfortable, like pieces of him were being stretched too far as Alice made way for whatever it was she was doing. She took a knife and sawed through his neck, cutting off his vision and throwing the amputated head onto the floor, where it landed with a splat. He could feel her attaching wires into him and putting something that felt hard, cold, and circular onto his chest. Finally, she gave him an electric shock, and he could feel his new mechanical parts come to life. Norman could see again. She threw a lever and undid his restraints. He reached for his head and found… oh. A projector.

"There. Perfect,” Alice said, stepping towards him. “Do you trust me now that I've made you the fastest and strongest lost one in the studio? I know that you wouldn’t have agreed to this on your own.”

Norman’s mind was swimming. Why would she do this? Loneliness? Genuine benevolence? He wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially to such a dangerous person. He attempted to thank her, but only a small, low, gurgling roar came out.

“That’s a good little mindless pawn. Now, are you going to stay near me and keep all the other nasties away?”

No, Norman thought. He had a lost one settlement to get back to. He began to wander out, taking a quick look back at Alice to see that she was smiling with satisfaction, blind to the fact that he had his mind back, however temporarily. He wandered out.

The halls Norman emerged into were ones he’d never seen before- Alice must have knocked him out quite a ways from here. Where was the lost one settlement he’d been tasked with protecting? He didn’t remember. It was like his memory was a leaky cup.

He had to find them, Norman thought as he began searching the unfamiliar halls. And he had to remember all the names he’d already forgotten once.

Apollo Polk. Elizabeth Polk. Shauna Polk. Grant Cohen. Olivia Polk. Susie Campbell. Sammy Lawrence. Shawn Flynn. Lacie Benton.

Apollo. Elizabeth. Shauna. Grant. Olivia. Susie. Sammy. Shawn… who was that last one?

At some point during his trek, he'd ended up lost. His lost one settlement was somewhere lower down- he knew it. But after going down a few levels, he couldn't find any more stairs that went downwards. Had he been down this hallway before? With the projector now permanently fused to his head, the lost one could illuminate dark hallways. Had it been dark where he came from? He didn't remember.

Some time into his wandering, Norman found a tape recorder containing his voice. He kept it with him. He had to remember who he was, even if that was all he remembered.

Sometime later, the lost one realized that he had a tape recorder in his hand and had a vague idea that it was important. Why? He couldn’t remember. He was wandering. Why? He couldn’t remember. But he knew it was important.

The lost one wandered, killed, and forgot until one day, a thin, one-eyed man came into his territory with humanoid abominations made of wires and tubes. The lost one fought. He killed several of them. But in the end, he was dragged off, incapacitated, and left to lay immobile and suffering.

---

“He’s waking up!” came a female voice that Norman didn’t recognize. Norman pried open his eyes, shielding them from the overhead light with his…

His hand. His hand was no longer thin and black. It was sketchy, like any ink creature’s, but it was the same long, scarred, hand and long, thick forearm he’d had as a human. Norman sat up to see the woman crouched down next to him.

“My name is Audrey,” the woman said. “I put you through the machine to give you your mind and body back. Did it work? Do you remember anything?”

It was then that Norman saw the people waiting for him at the door. Alice Angel was there, but her smile looked like that of Susie Campbell. With her were inky versions of Grant, Shawn, and Lacie.

“Yes,” Norman said. “Yes, I remember everything.”

[ducknotinarow]

[Your Blitz My Stolas] "That's just how much I love you."

| 💜💜💜 --- 'I love you' Sentence Starters;

It just weird and unnatural. It shouldn't be Blitz fucking knowns he shouldn't think let alone feel those things. Mox and Mills didn't show this? They were so sickly sweet together. Oh how Blitz fucking hated them for that, and wanted it just as bad. Wanted to be part of what he saw as the perfect relationship. But how could he ever even think that would be the case? All he ever dose is fuck shit up. Even the relationships that you know shouldn't be so easy to break?

Oh he fucked those up too. He own twin sister hated the very ground he walked on and wanted nothing todo with him hell she don't want to even hold any resemblance to him she went so far as to mark out their family circus marking.

So why was it so easy for Stolas?

Was all he could think as they sat together Stolas was speaking about his day at the moment. Blitz hadn't retained a single word of said day. Phone propped on his shoulder as he kept his hands busy. It was better for him to just let them do something when ever he went down this path of thought. Blitz did love the sound of Stolas' voice on the other end of the phone though. This want to hear it and finally getting to despite knowing the sound. The loving way he called out to him 'dear', 'darling', 'dearest'. Each word strung so much to hear because he knew there was truth to them now. Not like before when he could hide behind it being something else. Blitz hated how much he craved to be called all that, wishing for them over his name because they might as well just be his name. The flutters in his chest he had to double down from the first thought of stop that shit right now to, it’s okay were allowed to feel this.

It was mentally draining. Blitz had become so used to denying all this stuff to now accepting it? The mental gymnastics were worse than what he did in his old circus days at times. Suddenly he noticed Stolas stopped speaking and once more called his name.

“Uhhh what?” He wasn’t even going to cover the fuck up here not that Stolas seemed to either notice or mind. Repeating his question just to ask what the imp was up to at the time. “Eh no murdering today it’s quite and boring right now. I sent the annoying couple and Loona off for the day if anything comes up they will just have to wait.” Blitz expressed “But hey no killing means more time for art.”

Blitz stated ever so proudly as looked down to the ‘art’ he was in the middle of working on. Horses of course, Blitz never didn’t draw horses after all any surface he could decorate with the beautiful creatures. On the white board, the calendar even. And despite Moxxie’s unwanted critique about his art. Blitz had to say his horses were getting pretty damn good. Though that confidence fade when Stolas asked if he could see the art he was working on. “Uh oh uh yeah?”

Phone pulled out from it’s holding place as Blitz snapped a photo and texted it over to Stolas. Waiting for it to go through part of him wondered if he should stop it and claim the office building reception was just shitty so photos just didn’t always send or come in well when he was there. But the loading circle finished before he could try and Stolas made a sound the second he clearly got the photo. Blitz wasn’t a master artist he knew that much it was something he just liked to do sure he thought about taking classes to get better but they were just so expensive! No why in hell was he going to throw the money out on something he can just fucking do. But well talent wasn’t really something he had was all. Fizz and Barbie had all the talent when it came to their acts. Blitz really only was good at ruining stuff. So becoming a hit man was perfect killing people for profit was fitting. Go kill someone and ruin their life for ruining someone else’s? What better line of work could he have asked for?

But this? This was just something different. He sucked at it sure but he liked todo it. Stolas however seemed to blow his expectations out of the water suddenly. With delighted praise over his drawings. Stolas seemed so charmed by the horses different looks. Some wearing hats some with specific patterns on their fur. He noted some had names over them.

“Oh I sort of come up with stories for them all.” Course of fucking course Stolas then asked about that too. “Well that’s stapler with the black main. He’s a much older horse but not quite out of the game just yet. Real close to maple bucks, the one with the scarf around his neck. Maple bucks new to the ranch but took a real liking to Stapler. Then you got Karen she’s a fat bitch but she’s carrying a kid at the moment. Then there’s” Blitz counties on tell Stolas his many tales of the few horses he had drawn so far. Explaining relationships and such between them sometimes mention another but they were in this one. And Stolas simple offered for Blitz to bring his art and tell him more later. And that just made time stand still for the imp.

Where was the punch line here? The joke? When was Stolas going to finally drop this act? “Ya really want that? Mean we can do ya know actually stuff you want todo not m blabbing about my shitty horse drawings.”

“That’s just how much I love you”

It twisted in his chest to hear it was painful like a tight squeeze around the precious organ but the squeeze was gentle carful not to like sharpen talon tips break through and cause bleeding. Stolas made it out to be so simple so fucking easy. Shouldn’t he be just as bad about this shit? If Stolas wasn’t than what excuses did Blitz have? A sharp inhale taken as he started to dig around for any he knew was likely still hanging around his desk. Often he torn it up or tossed it away a few times he used the papers as targets for practice. Always hating the end result. But some would survive here and there. “I got a few I can bring if that’s what ya want, they ain’t much but I’ll give them to ya even do what ever you want with them frame them or toss out whatever.”

Though Blitz was stupid enough to wish Stolas would keep them. Maybe he could draw a Stolas looking horse before he left for the day?

[new-44556678]

Agatha (Dark Deception) tickles y/n

Warning: (please read!) I do not own Agatha or Dark Deception. I do not own anything of that! I'm just a big fan! All credits go to the creators and everyone else! And this FanFic has some resemblance and quotes from the actual game! Thank you! God bless you!

Warning for the story: Tickles, fluff, tickle fights, creepy and scary friendship.

You were a 7 year old boy/girl (depends on your gender) just starting out at a new school.

You were nervous to say the least, but you were also excited to meet new friends.

As you stepped into the school it was dark, dirty, and quite unsettling as well. You looked around a bit more and suddenly realized you were in an auditorium with a stage in front of you. Suddenly out of nowhere and girl appeared and her gaze was immediately fixated on you and you only!

"Oh a new friend! I'm so excited, welcome! I heard we might be getting a new student here soon so I put together this little welcoming party for ya! It's really nice to have someone new to play with! Do not tell the others but they've been getting pretty boring lately. Hehe, but you'll spice things up around here won't ya?! You can share everything with me, all your secrets, all your mistakes, all your pain! That's what best friends are for? Right?!"

She spoke down to you, as she finished her sentence she disappeared. Leaving you standing there, absolutely petrified.

After a few more minutes you finally calm down. And you walked into a random room with no kids, no teachers at all. But a message on the whiteboard that read. "Draw a house as neatly as you can!"

After reading the sentence, you then begin drawing. When you were done drawing, you got up and put all your markers and put them back in the bin.

As you went back to pick it up, there she was. The same girl holding your drawing and admiring.

"Hey nice drawing!"

She said as she then gently put in back on the table. Now that she was right in front of you, it was easier to see what she looked like. She was wearing black and white clothing. Her face looked creepy and quite messed up, she was barefoot, and no eyebrows. But most of all her arms were longer than her legs, her hands were black as the night and her fingers were long with finger nails almost the same size. And she looked like she was maybe like 9 years old, something like that. (Definitely older than you in this FanFic)

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

You asked her with a shaky voice, you were quite disturbed by this girls presence.

"Oh I'm sorry, my name is Agatha! Nice to meet you!"

She responded with a light and happy tone as she was began shaking your hand.

"And you?"

Agatha asked you as she began waiting for your response.

"Oh I'm y/n! Nice to meet you Agatha!"

You responded quickly. Definitely your fear around Agatha.

"It's nice to meet you y/n!"

She responded. Gave you your schedule of where you needed to go next along with a map. But, there was on question that should be answered.

"Wait! How do you appear and disappear?"

You asked, the curiosity building up in you.

"I teleport."

She answered your question and after she did. She teleported away.

You then looked at your schedule, English was the next class. You than looked at your map. English was just a few rooms away to the left.

As you walked to your next class. You then saw once again. No kids, not a single teacher. But again a message on the white board that read. "Complete the paper that is on your desk"

After reading another sentence. You got to work. After you finished, you put your pencil back in the in the little tin and by the second you tuned around. Agatha was right there. Looking at your paper, examining it to see that you got everything thing right. Fortunately you did.

"Great work!"

She said as she took one of the pens and wrote A+ on the paper.

As she teleported away you looked back on your schedule, Gym was the next class.

You then looked on your map and saw that Gym room was some steps away, but not infinitely far. So you began walking to your next class.

As you met the Gym doors you opened them up, the inside was the same thing no-one inside and something written on the whiteboard.

"Warm-ups 10 squats. 10 push-ups. Activity Tag!"

As you finished reading it you began the warm-ups. As you finished your squats it was time for you to do push-ups, they were immensely harder for you. And you kept trying more and more. But it all just seemed out of wack.

Eventually Agatha teleported to you, seeing that you found it quite difficult to perform it all without having a red face.

"Your form is a bit off, let me help you."

Agatha said as she began walking towards you to maneuver your body a bit to put it in the correct situation.

"Tihihi! Agatha! That tickles!"

You giggled out as Agatha listened closely and put in the right form.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time when touching you. Try the push-ups now. They should feel better!"

She replied to you and apologized.

And as you finished the push-ups it was time for tag.

"Are you ready?"

Agatha asked you as you giggled nervously.

"Well, maybe. Why do you ask?"

You responded to her as you waited for her response next.

"Well I'm asking to make sure that your ready to see my skill and speed!"

Agatha replied as you giggled nervously once again.

And after a count of 3 seconds, the game was on. You began running around the whole gym trying to avoid her at all costs. But she was fast. Even for her short legs she was already running at the speed of 15 miles per hour. Which is not common at all for kids.

"Tag you're it!"

Agatha said with excitement in her voice as you started chasing after her.

She was really fast! Enough to dodge your attempts at tagging her even when she was not looking.

After Gym was over you then looked over at your schedule and the next class was, free time for the rest of the day??

You couldn't believe what you just read. You were about to ask Agatha but she already disappeared

You then looked at your map and saw the word playground outside near back entrance.

As you walked there you opened the doors. And you saw that Agatha was already waiting for you out there.

"There you are y/n! Come quickly to me! I wanna play something with you!"

Agatha shouted over at you. Wanting you to come close so she could play another game probably.

As you got close enough she asked you

"Do you wanna play hide and go seek?"

She asked you with excitement in her voice not wanting you to reject.

Now this all was seeming like a horror movie or somethin. But you accepted. And hid. As soon as you heard Agatha say

"Ready or not, here I come!"

With excitement in her voice, that's when you knew the game was on.

She began walking towards your location immediately like she could already see you somehow.

"There you are! I found you!"

Agatha said with excitement in her voice. Leaving you speechless as the game just started.

"How did you find me already?"

You asked her with a voice full of wonder and also sadness.

"Well, don't take this personally. But I could hear and smell you."

She replied to you as you then got upset. It sounded like she was calling you loud and stinky or something.

"No fair skinny!"

You called her skinny as a bit of a joke but also insult as you were mad. And she was skinny, but not overly skinny.

"Haha, skinny?"

She replied like she did not like your joke or insult at all.

She then pushed you gently to the ground and sat on top of your waist and spoke down at you.

"Oh I can make you skinny!"

She said as she started tickling you making you laugh out loud and try to squirm away.

"Agatha! Hahahahahahahaha! Stop it! Stohahahahahap ihihit!"

You laughed out as you looked up at Agatha waiting for her to say something which she did.

"What? Laughing burns calories!"

Agatha responded to your laughing as your face turned a bright red! Was she calling you fat? You were not fat at all, you really weren't!

"Hahahahahaha! Are calling me fat? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO NOT THERE!"

Your laughter grew up a few octaves as she started tickling your bellybutton.

"What, no! Why would I call you fat! I'm just being honest about laughing burning calories! It was not supposed to be an insult, just a fun fact. Laughing and smiling cutie!"

Agatha said as she was also clearly teasing you by calling you cutie. Making your face turn to a deep shade of red.

"DON'T PLEASE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS CRAHAHAHAHAZY!"

You laughed out waiting for Agatha to respond. However there was nothing that came out of her mouth.

"OK! WHAHAHAHAHAHAHTEHEHEHEVER YOU WANT! WHAT IS IT!"

You asked her, waiting for her to reply. Yet there was no answer.

"PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!"

You yelled through your laughter. Waiting for her to respond again. Just a few words.

"Oh you know what I want!"

Agatha replied to you. Now she was clearly teasing you by her claiming that you knew what she wanted. Making you a bit more able to know what she wanted.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMHMHMHMHMHMHMMHMHMHMHM!"

You yelled through your laughter, but as she began to come towards your armpits that's when you broke.

"OK I'M SORRY AGATHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA SORRY!"

You told Agatha through your laughter as she finally stopped her tickle attack on you. But when she was done tickling you she got up close to you and whispered in your ear.

"I didn't tease you because I was mad. But actually because I love you!"

Agatha said as she gave you a kiss on the forehead and you both carried on with your game of hide and go seek.

[the-traveling-poet]

hi Lynn!! I’ve been binge reading your profile and let me tell you, I love your reading. May I request some Levi x reader fluff where they're married n have a 3 y/o daughter named kutchel. Levi's wife is 8 months along with their 2nd kid. They're all excited n kutchel just wants to play. Kutchel tries to drag reader along to play but reader is very exhausted n cant keep up w kutchel but still tries to hide her exhaustion n make her happy. Levi comes back from the tea shop or something after work, and it’s worried his wife will overexert herself n tries to make both his girls happy? Thank youu ❤️ (Post-war, canon Au)

Family

It seems three years was all the time it took for you and your husband to fully embrace your new lives together. After the war, you were finally able to just focus on the two of you rather than possible impending dooms around every corner. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for the break. Engagement, marriage, conception and childbirth were all things you never imagined you’d have the luxury to experience with Levi, but after finding out you were pregnant with your second child, the reality of it all became oh so sweeter. But eight months into the second journey, you learn that sometimes you do still need some help from your lover. And Levi is happy to provide.

Pairing: Husband/Father!Levi x Wife/Mother!Reader

Warnings: Post-war, pregnancy, parenting stress

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

A/N: Absolutely anon! I hope I did this justice for ya, I don’t have kids of my own so I hope I got this right! Sorry for the wait, work got in the way. As always if anything written doesn’t fit your preferences, I’ll happily rewrite!

Enjoy~

“Mama!”

The drawn out cry made you sigh. Not in annoyance. Never, in annoyance. Rather, it was a sigh of your ever growing fatigue. Staggering to your feet, you stood from the couch with a labored breath and turned to face your daughter with a careful smile.

“Yes, Kuchel?” You asked softly. No matter how tired you became, nor how round your belly grew, you’d always have the energy to tend to your daughter’s ever growing list of demands.

Kuchel raced about the living room, giggling happily as she babbled on about something or another that had prompted her to gain your attention. You couldn’t help but wearily smile; just where did she get all this energy from? And where could you find some?

With a hand in your belly to support the weight, you grunted as you crouched down to your knees to catch your daughter as she raced closer to you than the child suspected she had. With a shrill cry that stung your ears, she flopped around haphazardly in your arms once you nabbed her.

“Wanna go see papa!” Kuchel cried out in a mixture of laughter and whining. Heaving a sigh, you prepared yourself to remind her, once again, that her father away still away at work.

“Honey, daddy’s still at the tea shop. He should be back in only an hour!” You cheered her on, hoping your joyous tone would distract her from the fact her perception of time was all but nonexistent.

“An hour?!” she pouted, shooting you a look from under her unruly black curls. Silver eyes pouted up at you from your lap, making you smile at the resemblance that mirrored her father’s.

“I know baby, I know. We just have to be patient, yeah? When daddy gets home, you can greet him at the door. But no jumping, you hear? We can’t have you straining daddy’s leg again.” You reminded her, sternly but still lovingly.

Kuchel pouted in your lap, then hastily stood.

“But…If I can’t climb daddy, why he so tall?”

Her question left you speechless. Oh, the odd question from a child who could only string together simple sentences.

“You can climb daddy when he’s sat down. Otherwise, you’ll tip over his cane and strain his knee. You don’t want daddy to hurt, do you?”

Immediately Kuchel’s face sobered in expression, her eyes wide and plump lips parted.

“No! Not hurt daddy,” she scoffed, so much like the way her father did.

I guess more than physical traits are genetic, you thought with a sigh. Struggling over your very much pregnant belly, you managed to stand yourself back up. Watching your energetic three year old bounce excitedly across the room, and glancing down at your swollen abdomen, you really couldn’t find any room to complain.

“I miss daddy too,” you interrupted her ranting, “But he’ll be home soon enough. Now,”

Walking over to your kitchen, you pulled a knife out of your cutlery draw and picked an apple from a woven basket sat atop the counter.

Re-locking the drawer, (you can’t trust young children to not open any door or cabinet they can reach) you picked up a plate and began to cut.

“How about you enjoy a nice snack before dinner while you wait for daddy, and I’ll take a rest on the couch with you?”

“But you just got off the couch, and it’s daytime!” Kuchel pouted, the pitter patter of her bare feet sounding off the tiled floor as she waddled her way into the kitchen to watch.

“I know honey, I know.” Sighing, your subconsciously placed a hand over your belly, feeling the baby within gently press against your touch.

“Growing a baby makes mommy tired. It takes a lot of energy, even if I’m not moving.”

Kuchel stared on in silence, her bright eyes staring at your enlarged belly deep in thought. After a moment, she shrugged.

“That’s weird. Why did you grow one of it makes you sleepy?”

“Well, both your father and I wanted another baby. You’ll be a big sister, yknow that?” You hummed over your shoulder as you finished peeling the apple and handing her the plate.

“I guess so,” Kuchen mumbled as she bit into an apple slice. Seeing she was satisfied, you slowly made your way over to the couch to lie back down. After a moment, you felt your daughter struggle to climb up onto the furniture to join you. With a sleepy smile, you ruffled her hair and closed your eyes.

“Wanna go outside and play pretend?” Kuchel suddenly asked, disrupting the peaceful silence around you.

Heaving a sigh, you gave her a tired smile over your shoulder.

Please, Levi. Get home soon…

═════════════════

A single click of the lock on his front door made any tension leave Levi’s shoulders. Finally, he was home.

Since he was a young teenager, he’d always dreamed of the day he could open up his own shop and run a peaceful business. And sure, he very much enjoyed his craft for brewing and steeping various drinks for anyone who stepped foot through door of his small shop.

But at the end of the day, there was nothing he enjoyed more than returning home to his small family. Listening to his daughter’s excited squeals as she tried to climb him like a tree in the threshold, seeing his wife’s radiant, and relieved, smile ever present on her face when they reunited in the safety of their home.

Though he dreaded leaving them for this sole reason, it made coming home every day so much more sweeter.

Heaving a sigh, Levi twisted the door knob open and stepped into their home.

The silence that met him immediately concerned him. Looking around, he saw no trace of his child or lover. Tensing up, he looked for any sign of their whereabouts.

There’s no way in hell Y/N convinced Kuchel to nap. That kid doesn’t sleep.

Shuffling his way further inside, he leaned on his cane to remove his shoes as he peered around corners. Just when he started to let panic take over, a jarring bang sounded from the kitchen.

Limping along as fast as he could, he tried his best to keep the panic from taking over. But the moment he rounded the last corner, all traces of worry faded away. Though slightly miffed, Levi couldn’t help but smirk to himself ever so slightly.

Sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and covered in both dirt and flour sat his child. He watched her tracing patterns in the mess on the floor, babbling to herself for every shape she drew. Levi cleared his through after a moment, trying his hardest to appear stern.

But he never could with his little girl.

Kuchel whipped her head around with a gasp, eyes widening at being caught. But soon enough a shrill giggle bubbled out of her throat and echoed off the walls.

“Daddy!” Kuchel cried out, slipping to her feet to tackle him in a hug. Biting back a grimace, Levi put an arm around her shoulder and peered down at her.

“What are you doing, Kuchel?” He asked in an even tone.

“Playing!” She replied innocently, blinking white powder from her eyelashes. Biting back a sigh, Levi picked her up and positioned her on his hip.

“Where’s mommy?” He asked her, brushed some dirt from her nose.

“Sleeping, again,” his daughter pouted, playing with the buttons in his coat.

“You probably tired her out, brat. Come on, we’ll get you a bath then clean this mess up.” Levi mused, unable to keep up his ‘stern father’ facade. Setting her back down he let her tug at his hand as she led the way to the bathroom, babbling and giggling all the way. They passed through the living room, seeing you slumped on the couch.

Ruffled hair, mismatched clothes, large belly poking out from under your tee shirt, lips parted and slightly chapped; Levi could only chuckle to himself as he continued on through the room.

“You know, mommy does a lot for you. For us,” Levi spoke quietly to his daughter.

“And look how pretty she looks while doing it.”

“Prettyyy,” Kuchel whispered in agreement, smiling up towards her father.

With an approving nod, they continued on.

“Now go on, get. Grab a change of clothes while I start the bath.”

═════════════════

Hearing muffled giggles and low voices, you squinted your eyes open in confusion. It wasn’t but five minuets ago your daughter was bouncing on your legs, begging to go outside and play, wasn’t it? Yet looking out the window settled into the far wall you saw the last rays of the sun poking through emerald colored leaves from your front yard. Groaning, you sat yourself up and instinctively checked your belly with a soft touch. Feeling the baby stir ever so slightly, you smiled in relief.

Another loud giggle interrupted your train of thought, bringing you back to the present. Furrowing your brows, you could only imagine what Kuchel had found to occupy herself with while waiting on you to awaken and for Levi to return.

Levi…

Staggering through the living room, you peered into the kitchen to see just what the young girl was up to.

Stood in the center of the room was your daughter; a white cloth tied loosely around the bottom half of her face and a broom in her tiny hand. In front of her stood Levi; a cloth to match her’s adorning his face as he held a dust pan.

“Come on brat, it’s not that hard. I hold the pan, you brush the dirt and flour into the pan. We’ve been over this.”

“This isn’t play!” Kuchel whined, stomping her tiny foot.

“Sure it is. We’re playing cleaning; it’s the best game.”

“No it’s not!”

An unbidden chuckle escaped you, but the hand covering your mouth did nothing to muffle the noise. Both heads of raven hair shot up to stare at you in surprise as they let their cleaning supplies fall to their sides.

“Mommy!”

“Babe?”

Not knowing who to focus on first, you decided on both at the same time. Staggering forward, you ruffled Kuchel’s hair as you placed a soft kiss on Levi’s cheek.

His eyes softened significantly as he draped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. Holding him tightly, you draped one of your arms over his shoulder while the other rested on Kuchel’s head. Giving them a playful glare, you looked over the half cleaned mess on the floor.

“Now just what is all this?” You questioned in mock demand. Neither of the two would meet your eye for a moment as you looked them over. Grunting something incoherent under his breath, Levi stopped down to pick up your daughter and hold her against the both of you.

“We’re playing cleaning,” Levi explained quickly, much to Kuchel’s dismay.

“No! It’s not play, it’s chores. Daddy tricked me!”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t made this mess in the first place.” Levi scoffed, shooting her a betrayed look.

“But I want to play outside,” Kuchel pouted. Smiling softly to yourself, you glanced up at Levi with a raised brow.

“Honey, would you mind playing with Kuchel outside for a little bit? The mess can wait; I’m exhausted and she hasn’t slowed down once today.”

Thought you thought he might pause and think up a protest, Levi didn’t. With a soft peck to your lips, his eyes lit up with a smile he so seldomly showed.

“Of course darling. Go back to resting. Kuchel and I will be out in the yard if you need anything.”

Giving him a grateful smile, you stepped back to let Kuchel fall to her feet with an excited giggle.

As she raced to put on her shoes, Levi took a step closer to you and placed a careful hand onto your belly. You both chuckled upon feeling a tiny kick against his palm.

“Missed you,” Levi whispered, leaning in to capture your lips in a longer kiss. After a passionate moment, you broke away and smiled thankfully up at him.

“I missed you too. Come join me once you’ve tired out Kuchel?”

“Give me ten minuets,” Levi mumbled against your lips before pulling back with a small smirk, seemingly already having forgotten about the messy kitchen.

As you watched them exit the house, you couldn’t help but to chuckle to yourself where you stood leaning against the wall.

Lord, what had you done to deserve them?

[bestcurse]

the world around them is non-existent as he focuses on her, all that he’s missed over these past two years, parts of her that he doesn’t ever want to miss out on again. wasn’t certain he’d survive it again. losing her. miller has never known a pain like that. it had felt equivalent to losing a vital organ, a lifeline. those days had felt so gloomy, as if he was a ghost in his own life, going through the notions of life without any real attachment, at all. he still felt like that, some days— when his chest ached, without the sound of her laughter to fill its crevices, when his side was cold, without the shape of her imbedded into the space beside him. but all that’s been missing is present now, despite how badly he still wishes things were different, how he wants nothing more than for his hand to transpire past the boundary of her hand, to skate his fingertips along her leg, her arm, her back— to have any resemblance of what they once had, together. instead, he has to settle for what they now have; has to pretend that he doesn’t want to bring his seat in even closer, to run his thumb over the curve of her jaw, to lose his fingers tangled in her hair. has to remind himself that this is enough, that whatever he was given with her, in any form, was precious. " oh, it's my fault is it? " finds enough amusement in it for his features to replicate the emotion, to engrave into his smile lines, his eyes. " think i just took the time to know you, you know? " which was true, not only for their most intimate moments together, when they had been a mixture of lips and tongue and teeth, but for those more tender moments they spent together, too. those were the moments where he learned exactly how her mind worked, how her soul aligned so much with his own; something that he would never find, with anyone else. it's enough to distract himself from the truth simmering in his gut, that bubbles up his throat, as if to say that she had ruined him for everybody else, too. " it hasn't... it's never been like that with anybody else for me, i hope you know. " falls quieter in admission, because it wouldn't ever be like that, again— a connection like the one they shared could never be transfigured. but she was right, she couldn't hide from him, just as he never could from her. thinks that's why it's been so easy for him to be so candid, tonight, in a way he's only even been with her. " you'll never have a reason to hide from me, even now. " it's a sad smile that punctuates the end of that sentence, knowing how much the distance, the time that's passed, has influenced their ability to just be. that's what's so difficult about discussing his life now, he realises; just how much it changes their dynamic, how they've always been with one another. but it's laughter, then, that she's drawing from him, finishing off the rest of his drink, placing the empty bottle back on the table. " shit, you're kidding... i hope i at least get a friend's discount, or something, " he teases, unable to ignore the sudden thudding in his chest, at what she says next— the exact thing he needed to hear, right now. only replies with a small smile, a soft nod of gratitude, wishing his hand was close to hers again, where he could show his appreciation differently. one remains firmly against the table, as if he needs it to ground himself now, however. " but, fuck, dev... please don't say that, that you regret it because— " i do too. regrets not staying, not trying harder to convince her to come with him. a shake of his head finishes that thought, wishing his bottle was full again, as her question falls. he's quiet, god for knows how long, before he nods. " sometimes, " he confirms quietly. " i think about how scary it would've been, but how much i wanted to figure it out with you, " beat. " i always thought it would've been a girl, for some reason, you know? that i would've been really fucking lucky for her to turn out exactly like you. "

this was once commonplace, sitting together on a night out with friends or at a party, completely oblivious to anyone else around, occupying their own little bubble. she’s missed it so desperately over the past couple years with him miles away, always subconsciously watching the door as if waiting for him to walk through it at any moment, to save her from that loneliness that followed them both around before they found one another. wishes this still was her normal, that she could take his hand and lead him to some dimly lit corner where they could let their hands and lips and teeth explore one another in the semblance of privacy. but, no— instead she had to ignore how her heart stutters in her chest as he inches his chair closer, trying to pretend it didn’t make her dizzy with want. want for him, for how it used to be, for everything they once had. disguises it all with a soft smile, attempting to allow his words to permeate her brain. finds it hard to believe, though, as it was always easier to blame herself, before anyone else. “ i don’t know, maybe it’s actually your fault— it was so good with you, that you ruined me for everybody else, ” it’s spoken with a hint of a smirk, although she doesn’t actually blame him at all, signaled by the laugh that emanates from her throat. and it wasn’t his fault, at all, but there was truth to those words— how could anyone else compare when she’s already experienced the best ? they possessed an intimacy that was driven by love and understanding and passion, which was obviously missing from whatever it was she had with fletcher. it didn’t feel right, anyway, not like how it was with miller, but what did it matter, now ? he was with someone else, and lived miles and miles away, regardless. didn’t like thinking about that, though, especially not when he was here with her now, in the flesh, fingertips tracing along her hand, electricity pooling in every nerve ending he skates across. she watches intently, free hand twitching with the desire to reach out, to skate across everywhere she could see, just to be reminded what he feels like, beneath the pads of her fingers. gaze only lifts at his words, nodding at his question, because yes, it always was easier with him. easier than anyone she’s ever been with before. there’s a soft, sad smile written across her features, then, hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia. “ yeah, it was, wasn’t it ? probably because i never felt the need to hide any part of me from you. even if i wanted to, you would have seen it. you’ve always been good at that, ” and god, did she love him all the more for it. it’s the kind of love that doesn’t ever dissipate, the kind of love reserved for the one person who has seen the inside of her soul and loved her anyway, despite all the cracks and bruises. him— it would always be him. and maybe that’s why she suddenly feels sick after posing her question about his girlfriend, unsure if she could stand to hear more about the one who took her place next to him. brows furrow at what he reveals, trying to conceal the concern on her features, the desire to tell him she obviously wasn’t good for him, but what right did she have to say that, now ? finds herself shaking her head, instead, at the mention of therapy, hand now brutally cold without the warmth of his own. “ wait, this isn’t a therapy session ? i’ve been charging you by the minute this whole time, ” it’s spoken teasingly, followed with a soft chuckle. “ it’s never been hard for me to like you, to see who you are, miller. ” a pause, to think. “ i always believed in you, but i was just happy to be with you, regardless of your potential. ” in the end, she decided she had to let him go, so he could follow his dreams. “ honestly, i regret not going with you, when you left. ” inhales sharply, then, as her next question falls from her lips without much thought, the alcohol loosening her lips. " do you ever think about what our kid would've been like ? because i do, sometimes. "