#above a short bookshelf which is between two taller ones

[soaringsearingphoenix]

Peri this is the second time I've seen you talking about your future lover that you have settled down with despite knowing that you're a free spirit who longs to explore the universe and I'm just... Are you okay???

You may have seen two times but it has happened six or seven times! I’ve been meaning to compile them all into an actual story or a comic or something.

It wasn’t intentionally based on actual, specific feelings I have had, if that’s what you’re asking. Well, okay, I take that back. The situation isn’t a direct parallel for something I am currently going though. The feelings very much have existed.

For most of my childhood (and occasionally now, though it’s on hold at the moment because my focus is on projects that require different feelings), any sense of Yearning i had was for places, not people. And often, it was vague, this ever-present thing that i considered homesickness even if it was for a place I’d never actually seen. I had this sense that it was Out There, but I’d know it when I found it. I felt it a lot, and I felt a little bad about it because I have a safe and comfortable home that I felt like I was taking for granted. But I felt it even then — in fact, I think I felt it especially when I was safe and comfortable, because if I was stressed about an imminent deadline, or working through an argument with a friend, or on crutches ‘cause I’d twisted my leg, then I had something more immediate to think about.

And I think it came from reading adventure books nonstop. It was this sense that life was supposed to have higher stakes than this, that it was supposed to be full of Big, Grand moments that really Mattered. I was waiting to develop superpowers, or be given an enchanted sword, or fall into another dimension, and finally enter the word where I knew I belonged.

Since then I’ve come to think of it as a Yearning for a lifestyle, not a place. And somewhere alonng the line, I grew to accept that if there would be adventure, I was going to have to find it, make it if I must, but I wasn’t going to find it by sitting around waiting for it to come to me.

And throughout that realizing process, my peers were realizing their own yearnings, and that was certainly not the world or the lifestyle I felt at home in. There’s a comic i found recently, which I drew in high school when I learned someone had a crush on me that I did not reciprocate, and also in the comic i become a secret agent who Can’t Have Attachments because I would be putting them in danger, people would try to use them to get to me, so therefore I must work ~alone~. In the comic, I say to someone “i wish i could wear a shirt advertising my romantic status so people won’t waste their time,” and then the next panel is me wearing a shirt that says “Even if we dated I would leave you to go to Mars if given the opportunity,” and then the next panel flashes to the future and I’m on a spaceship, having never dated, feeling like I’m living my best life but also in danger because spy stuff.

Talk about running away from your feelings right?

That and the fact that the other most potent feeling i experience is nostalgia, and you’ve got a rich broth for this particular feeling i’m stewing in.

Don’t worry, though. Spoiler alert, I probably couldn’t write it as a tragedy even if I wanted to. I always seem to flinch before the final blow. I’m too interested in optimism, and I get too attached to my characters not to take care of them at the end of it all. It’s just that the part where they’re both happy to have made the right decision isn’t the part with a story to tell - the conflict is where the narritive is.

Since the main character is just like... me in the future, though, know also that I have two exes, and I’m still in touch with both of them as friends, and i’m proud of and excited for them as they work on their degrees, and one of them is also engaged! Very exciting. My opinion isn’t relevant but if it was, I think she and her fiance are really good together.

[forcefullyawake]

Hello! This is for @ketslketslketsl claws and creampies collab.

Summary: It’s not every day a pretty girl gives you her number, or pursues you so much. Sure, it looks like Mikasa is hiding something, but how bad could it be?

Pairings: Mikasa x Reader, Monster! Eren x Reader

Warnings: non human sex, noncon, violence, tentacles, gaslighting

WC: 4.8k

You look like an idiot.

There’s really no way around it. The dress your friend had all but forced you into is a little too tight, the straps on it digging into your plump flesh a little too much. The color on your lips is a little too red, the makeup on your eyes a little heavier than you’d ever done before. All of this to stand out, to show to the party at large that not only were you available but you were looking- something you hadn’t gone out of your way to advertise before. Your friends say that you look hot before you leave, but you think you look like you’re trying to hard.

It’s especially obvious when you’re handed a red solo cup as soon as you walk into the door, and immediately find a place on the wall to people watch. Nobody gives you a second glance (well, maybe a couple do, but at the resting frown on your face nobody gives you a third or tries to strike up a conversation). All of the makeup in the world can’t overcome the fact that you just don’t like talking to new people. Hell, even the friends you came with tonight basically adopted you into their friend group your first week of college, instead of you engaging them.

People filter through the home all around you, some dancing where there’s open space, grinding on each other to a low thumping beat that reverberates through your chest. You have to shift on the uncomfortable heels you’re wearing, trying to subtly grind your thighs together. It’s not like you don’t want that- it’s not like you don’t want to throw caution to the wind and disappear upstairs with some pretty boy or gorgeous girl. It’s just that you don’t know how- it’s like you missed that lesson in school, too wrapped up in a book to learn to relate to people who didn’t exist on a page.

Your mother says it’s not too late to get out there and learn about these things, but it feels that way sometimes. In times like these, it’s hard to gather up the courage to strike up a conversation, even when you’re on your second drink. At least you think it’s your second drink- whatever is in your cup is red and fruity, and it doesn’t taste like there’s much alcohol in it, which even in your limited experience you know is a sure sign there’s probably a whole bottle or two of something in it. It makes your head swim a little, it’s nice in a way but it mostly makes you sleepy.

Maybe you can call an Uber. You can find one of your friends to let them know you’re leaving, call an Uber and go to sleep at an almost decent hour. Let them have all the fun, and the hangovers, while you get a solid eight hours of sleep. At least it’s the weekend, and you have two days of freedom before your job takes up your time again. Your eyes start slowly scanning the crowd, looking for anybody you know- Annie, maybe, she’s tall and her blonde hair sticks out. Or Reiner, the lone male in your group, but knowing him he’s snuck off with Bertolt the first chance they got. Lucky bastard.

“You look lonely,” Someone says to your right, and when you look over there’s a girl standing there. She’s a couple inches taller than you, slender but the sleeves on her shirt are short enough you can see her muscles too. Black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, a dainty gold chain resting on the pale skin of her neck with a little ‘M’ on it. Startling grey eyes that are doing their level best to bore into your skin. Definitely not the type to talk to you.

“Just trying to find my friends,” You say, but it mostly comes out as a whisper. She leans forward a little more, so you repeat yourself, a little louder. There’s a slight edge to her smile when she realizes you’re alone, you think, something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It must be a trick of the light, though, because the next moment it’s gone.

“It might be easier to find them if you’re in the crowd,” She says, murmuring right next to your ear, her breath dancing over your skin, “They could be upstairs, even. I could help you.”

You mean to say no, thanks but no thanks, you’ll be on your way. Your parents talked to you about stranger danger, and you’re on the wrong side of tipsy but what comes out of your mouth is, “Yes, please.” She smiles, victorious and promising.

“I’m Mikasa,” She tells you, putting her hand low on your back as you move away from the wall. The way the dress is designed, all wrapping layers, means there’s a gap in the fabric on your lower back, just enough that you can feel her hand on your skin, cool against you despite how warm it is in the room. You give her your name, watching as she repeats it to make sure she has it correct, eyes rapt on the way her lips move around it.

She doesn’t guide you upstairs, but closer into the makeshift dance floor. It feels like a scene out of one of the romance novels you have tucked away on your bookshelf at home. People seem to part around you, time stands still, all the cliche’s come to life. Her hands are on your hips as she moves behind you, steady and squeezing into you just enough to make your heart race. Mikasa isn’t especially broad but you feel remarkably safe with her right behind you.

“See anybody you know?” She has to lean down to speak in your ear, and between the alcohol and how close she is, you’re not sure you would even recognize your own face. You can feel her moving in time with the music, your own hips starting to sway with hers. Your eyes drift shut, letting her hands wander over your sides, skimming up to right under your breasts before the make a trail like fire back down to your hips. Maybe this isn’t so bad, you think, as you let yourself turn in her arms, her thigh moving between yours.

You’d think it’s a dream, that you did go home when you thought to, and your mind was wandering but the pleasure that courses through your when her jeans rub against your clothed cunt feels too good to be a dream.

“You do this often?” She asks, drawing you back to earth. All you can do is shake your head, arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She laughs at that, mouth forming words you can’t quite make out when you hear your name being called.

“I think your friends have found you,” Mikasa smiles, taking a step back as she eyes someone over your shoulder. Your hands drift back to yourself, helpless in the air before she catches one, grabbing a pen out of her back pocket to scribble something on the back of your hand. She presses a kiss on it when she’s done, giving you a warm smile.

“Call me,” She says, before being swallowed into the bodies behind her. On your hand there’s a phone number. You hold your hand close to your chest as your friends surround you.

“There you are!” Annie hisses at you, wrapping a protective arm around you, “What were you doing with her?”

“Mikasa?” You ask, glancing behind you like you would still be able to see her, “She was helping me look for you. You left me.”

“She looked like she wanted to eat you alive,” Reiner huffs, Bertolt nodding in agreement. You roll your eyes at them.

“Maybe you’re just seeing things,” You suggest, pulling away from them, “Either way I think I’m going to head out. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“I’ll drive you,” Annie says, looking over your shoulder, “Armin is ready to go too.”

“Thanks,” You walk with Annie and her boyfriend to her hatchback, stretching out your legs in the backseat. You ignore their hand holding and longing looks. Clearly, when Annie said Armin was ready to go, she didn’t just mean home. At least the drive home is short. You say your goodbyes and make your way into your apartment, locking the door behind you before getting ready for bed.

Normally you would be tired, but there’s a thrumming in your veins, an undercurrent of excitement at the number written on your skin. You enter it into your phone, debating on sending Mikasa a text, but you hold off, not wanting to seem overeager. Still, you toss and turn, your skin feeling overly sensitive, each brush of your sheets feeling like the brush of fingers.

With a sigh you give up on sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand trailing down your neck while the other pushes up your sleep shirt, fingers skimming up, cupping one breast. You let your eyes close, imaging someone else touching you, Mikasa’s fingers being the ones to curl around your neck, her fingers tweaking at your nipples until they’ve pebbled. You picture her lips, her tongue, when you spread your lips, fingers making tight circles around your clit. It’s not you touching yourself, but her, playing your body like a fiddle until you cum, quicker than you can remember in recent memory, hard and fast, one hand smothering down your moans from your neighbors.

Maybe it should concern you though- no matter how hard you concentrate on Mikasa, picturing her above you, or between your legs, you can seem to recall the color of her eyes.

They only look red in your memory.

Dawn rises bright and early, pulling you from your sleep. You wake up with your heart racing, pounding in your chest. You don’t remember much of your nightmare, only that something was chasing you, nipping at your heels as you ran for your life. With a shudder you roll out of bed, thoughtlessly grabbing your phone to take it with you to the bathroom.

You gather courage as you brush last night out of your teeth, compose a text while washing your face, and hit send right before you step into the shower. It’s nothing special, a quick text that lets Mikasa know it’s you. Your phone balances precariously too close to your shower, music playing steadily out of it when the sound cuts off- your ringtone starts to play. You’re getting a call.

Grabbing your towel from where it rests you dry your hand, half your body out of the shower as you take the call without checking who it is. Nobody calls anymore, you assume it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You try not to sound too panicked. The voice on the other end laughs, low and throaty.

“I thought I said to call me?” Mikasa teases you, can you feel your skin heating up for a reason that has nothing to do with the shower. There’s no way to turn the water off from where you are now, not without getting your phone soaked, and you’re sure she can hear exactly where you are. “Though, maybe I should give you a call back.”

“Give me ten seconds, don’t hang up,” You say, not listening for her reply as you place the phone back onto the counter. Reaching over to twist the shower off, ignoring the soap left on your body to grab your towel and wrap it around you properly. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do.

“Still there?” You ask as you make yourself comfortable on the bed. Your sheets are gonna get wet but it’s worth it. Your skin is cold where the air hits it, but you don’t wanna hang up, not yet.

“Of course,” Mikasa breathes, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I know it’s a bit old fashioned to call people now, but I find it’s a much better way of communicating with people, don’t you?”

No, you don’t. You get flustered and stutter over your words, so you much prefer texting where you can make sure you say what you want to, but you certainly can’t tell Mikasa that and so- “Yeah, I think so too. It’s hard to read tone over text.”

That part isn’t a lie, at least. Mikasa’s laugh is like honey in your ears. “You don’t have to lie, I can put you out of your misery now, if you’d like. Send some texts with the letter u as you.” Her teasing doesn’t sting you, not even a little bit.

“Or we could just meet up?” You suggest, breath catching in your throat as you wait for her reply. It could be that you’ve completely misread the situation, maybe she’s just being nice, maybe she doesn’t like girls, maybe-

“Give me an address and I’ll pick you up tonight at 7,” Mikasa replies, so smooth and confident it makes your head swim a little. You rattle off your address and she tells you to dress casual before hanging up. You have all day to get ready but you start immediately, drying your hair and styling it before picking out what you hope is a casual enough outfit- a soft white sweater over a sundress patterned with strawberries. A few swipes of pink makeup later and you’re set.

Now all you have to do is wait.

It feels like the hours manage to double themselves, or even triple themselves. A whole lifetime of waiting in one day until you manage to lose track of time and doze off on the couch. Three sharp knocks on your door startle you awake, sending you flying towards the door.

“I’m awake!” You practically shout, throwing the door open. “I mean. Hello. Hi. Can we do that again?”

“No, it was cute,” Mikasa says, smiling at you. You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, trying to ignore it. You’re not sure if you should invite her in but she solves that problem for you. “Are you ready? The place I’m taking you isn’t that far away.”

“Just let me get my shoes on,” You say, quickly turning to slide your feet into the first pair of sandals you see, strappy ones that make you trip if you’re not careful. But it’s fine. You know you’ll be careful tonight.

Mikasa leads you to her car, a silver hatchback. The interior looks spotless, and there’s an almost overwhelming smell of cleaner permeating through the car. You buckle yourself in before looking at her.

“Got it detailed just for me?” You think your voice is teasing but Mikasa stiffens, inhaling sharply as she looks at you. Her reaction takes you aback. “Whoa. Sorry. Teasing!” Mikasa relaxes almost imperceptibly at that, but you can see her shoulders sag down a little.

“Sorry, normally nobody notices how clean a car is,” She says, “Took me off guard. You’re very perceptive.”

“A lifetime of being a wallflower,” You reply without thinking, “You get good at people watching, all that jazz.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” She teases you back now, bringing a smile to your face. She’s right, the place she takes you isn’t that far away and the drive passes smoothly as she pulls into the parking lot of your towns oldest diner. You sit up straighter in your seat- you haven’t been here since you were a kid.

“It’s a little old fashioned, I know,” Mikasa says as she gets out, and you must be distracted because the next thing you know she’s opening your door for you, and there’s no way she moved that fast. “But the ice cream floats here are to die for.”

“Oh no, this is great!” You exclaim, walking next to her into the diner. She asks for a booth in the corner, something you didn’t know people did outside of your romance novels.

“Order whatever you want,” Mikasa says, barely giving the menu a glance. “It’s my treat.” Your mother didn’t raise you to take advantage of someone’s generosity even on a date so you order a small combination meal- though you do opt to upgrade your drink to an ice cream float at Mikasa’s insistence you try one.

“What do you do for work?” You ask, trying not to cringe at your attempt at small talk while you wait for your food to come out.

“I’m.. uh,” Mikasa hesitates now, looking anywhere but your face. It takes her a fraction of a second too long to answer, just enough time to make you frown when she continues, “I’m a caregiver.” Even to you it sounds like a half truth, but you let it slide, not wanting to be too pushy on a first date.

“Oh?” You say, shifting in your seat, “How did you get started in that?”

“It just kind of.. picked me, I suppose.” Mikasa still isn’t meeting your eyes and you figure it’s time for a change of subject.

“How do you know Historia?” There, that should be a safe question. She was at Historia’s party last night, after all.

“We were friends way back in elementary school,” Mikasa explains, clearly relieved to have moved to something different. “I live one neighborhood over from her, so we’ve already just hung out together.” That makes sense to you- Annie has known Historia since high school, and Annie seemed to know of Mikasa.

“Got any embarrassing stories?” You know you probably shouldn’t ask but you can’t resist. The Historia you know is almost regal in nature, prim and perfect at all times. You can’t even imagine her as a child.

“Oh, do I ever,” Mikasa says, voice a little lower as she leans towards you, launching into a story from her childhood. You hardly notice your food appearing, and then barely taste it as you eat, hanging on Mikasa’s every word. She’s funny and engaging, and it’s not until you hear the pointed cough of the man behind the register that you realize it’s closing time for them.

“Yeah, Zeke, we’re going,” Mikasa says with a roll of her eyes as she pays him. He huffs at her a little bit but soon enough the two of you are sitting inside of her car, an awkward silence growing. What do you say now? You don’t want this date to end but would it be to forward to invite her over? Or will she invite you over? You don’t get too far into your thoughts when the car starts moving.

“Do you wanna come over?” She asks, the car sitting long at a stop sign. She’s looking dead ahead, fingers gripping the wheel so hard it turns white. She’s just as nervous as you are, you realize.

“Yes, please,” You manage to breathe out before continuing on, not wanting to sound rude, “If you want me to, that is.”

“Trust me, I want you to,” Mikasa replies, something laced in her voice but she doesn’t relax at all on the drive to her place. The drive is quiet, tense in a way you don’t understand, but there’s still an electric current in your veins as her house comes into view. It’s one neighborhood over from where you were last night, just like she said, a small place that looks like a two bedroom.

“I got it from my parents,” She explains as she leads you inside, locking the door behind you. “When they passed.” You’re not sure what to say at that but the moment passes. Mikasa leads you to the couch.

Now what?

“So,” You start, barely getting the word out before her lips are pressed against yours, pushing you back onto the couch. Her mouth is firm on yours, insistent. Her hands are on you, sliding down your sides, teasing your thighs under the hem of your dress. Her mouth moves to your neck, biting and kissing and sucking her way down.

It’s a lot, almost too much. You want to tell her to stop, to slow down a little but Mikasa presses forward, your dress sliding up as she slides down between your legs. The shadows on the wall dance in a weird way, that doesn’t seem to move with the way the lights are. You can’t voice anything as Mikasa’s mouth covers your pussy, mouthing at it over your underwear. Her spit wets the fabric, her tongue dragging over your clit, making your eyes roll back. Your fingers curl into fists at your side, legs spreading wider to accommodate her shoulders- which you realize seem too wide now.

You’re so close when your eyes finally open and you look down.

Mikasa isn’t between your legs.

Whatever’s taken her place isn’t human, the face looks human enough but his body (and he’s definitely a him- you think you almost recognize him) blends in with the shadow, tentacles sliding up behind him, reaching out for you.

“Hello,” The monster says, ignoring the way you scream. You manage to twist free, catching him by surprise as your hand shoots out to scratch right at his eyes. You’re on your feet, running as you hear two voices call out your name.

But your shoes, your stupid strappy sandals- your ankle rolls in them and then something grabs you before you fall completely, your head slamming against the front door as everything does dark.

“Wake up,” A harsh voice commands you. It’s a growl, in human and it seems to be inside of your head. You ignore it, trying to roll over, thinking you’re dreaming but you can’t move. That makes your eyes shoot open.

“You’re up!” The monster is looming over you, using it’s many tentacles to hold you down. Your clothes are gone, the cold air biting at your skin. You’re not even sure how it’s this cold inside of a bedroom, one that looks to be incredibly decorated as well. There’s a chair in the corner, a plush blanket under you. It almost looks like a hotel room.

“Mikasa brought you just for me,” It tells you , leaning in close, his tongue coming out to lick at your throat. “You’re so sweet, I can’t wait to play with you, can’t wait to eat you right up!”

“Let- let go of me!” You shout, trying to make your voice as loud as possible. Maybe a neighbor will hear you. Maybe the monster doesn’t like loud noises. “Mikasa!”

“You can scream all you want, nobody is coming to save you,” The monster seems to delight in the way his cruel words make you cry. “It’s just me and you.” It pauses. “Maybe I’ll let Mikasa play with you a little too, before I kill you. She really liked you, she almost didn’t want to give you to me.”

He leans closer, speaking into your ear, rancid breath sweeping over you, “But I insisted. And she won’t ever deny me.”

“Eren,” Mikasa’s voice comes from the door way, “There’s no need to be cruel.” She’s not looking at you at all, looking rapturously at the monster on top of you. She looks in awe, in love even.

And not even slightly afraid of him.

“You know they taste better when they’re afraid, Mikasa, how many times do I have to tell you that?” The monster, Eren, snaps at her, hardly giving her a second glance. A tentacle creeps up your leg, twisting around it, the tip grazing over your cunt. A shudder of revulsion runs through you when it taps your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. “It’s better when they fight it. It always is.”

“Whatever you say, Eren,” Mikasa gives a sigh, taking up the seat you saw before. She’s wearing sweat pants now, a sports bra, looking like she’s just came in from working out. There’s a light sweat on her skin.

“Going to watch this time?” Eren asks, shifting so he’s to your side now, his tentacles holding you open, putting you on display. You try to close your legs but he’s too strong, his grip too tight. “Normally you don’t. Is this one special?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s just like the rest of them,” Mikasa says, and that, more than anything is what breaks you. A sob tears from your throat, as reality comes crashing in. You’re nothing more than a mark- she was never really into you at all.

Of course, you think, why would anybody like her be into someone like you?

More of his tentacles come up, holding your pussy open to their gazes. Despite her harsh words Mikasa has a hard time looking away from it. Eren’s tentacles are softer than they look as one circles your clit, drawing wetness from you no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t want this.

The tip of the tentacle is insistent though, circling your clit with more pressure until your hips jump up, chasing after it when Eren moves it back. He laughs, mocking and mean, before returning to his ministrations. He’s not soft in the way he touches you, one tentacle coming up to start to slowly push it’s way inside of you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before and it hurts.

“Stop,” You whine, hips twisting away from him as much as you can, “It hurts, please, stop!”

“I’ll stop when I’ve had my fill,” Eren replies, his voice mockingly sweet as the tentacle rams into you, splitting you open. The one circling your clit has left, leaving you reeling as your mind focuses in on the pain. The pace he sets is brutal, and his tentacle doesn’t feel like a cock or any of your toys. It squirms inside of you, pushing upwards along your front wall until-

“Fuck!” You wail now, thrashing on the bed. Eren smiles, and Mikasa gives a little whimper. You manage to look at her only to see her sat low in the chair, her own legs spread, with one of her hands down the front of her sweats, clearly touching herself while the other works at one of her nipples. “Please!”

“I knew you would beg,” Eren sounds delighted, “They always beg!” Your words seem to be what he was waiting for- the tentacle returns to your clit while the other attacks that spongy spot inside of you. You’re crying outright now, absolutely sobbing with- with everything, really. Your cries are of pleasure, of pain, of fear, of ecstasy. You cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

But Eren doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, now moving to to lap up your juices with his tongue, cleaning you as one orgasm trips into the next, and then another. You can’t tell if you ever really come down from one. It’s too much, it hurts again, and you don’t want this- you know you don’t want this, you want him to stop and-

You pass out, somewhere after what you think is an hour, if not more. Your mind blissfully goes blank, locking you away behind a door, away from your fractured reality.

People are talking above you, in quiet, hushed tones.

“We can’t keep her.”

“You said you just wanted a snack tonight, Eren. Not.. not that.”

“She’ll go to the police.”

“They won’t believe her, you know that. They didn’t believe Historia.”

“Historia was a child.”

“I’ll convince her she fell asleep or something, you know I can.”

“Fine. But Mikasa?”

“Yes?”

“Next time she’s mine.”

You don’t hear anything after that.

“Hey,” Mikasa is by your side. You’re back on her couch, clothes in place. You jerk up, away from her, looking for signs of what happened but there’s nothing. You don’t see any bruising. You feel sore between your legs, but nothing that would match what you went through. “You fell asleep. After we fucked.”

That’s not true, you know it isn’t true but the only other explanation doesn’t make sense. Monsters aren’t real. You weren’t… assaulted by one. Mikasa has to be right.

“Oh,” You struggle to sit up, feeling sluggish. “I’m sorry. I’m normally not like that.” The smile on Mikasa’s face is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I need to go home. I don’t feel so good. Can you take me?”

“Sure, of course,” Mikasa sounds relieved. That’s good, you think, she’s not mad at you. It must have been awkward for her when you fell asleep, had that nightmare. It felt so real. She helps you gather up your things. One of the straps on your sandal is broken. You’re not sure how but it’s a short walk to her car, you can go barefoot.

She starts it up, already talking to you about meeting up again, maybe next week if you want? You tell her it sounds nice, that you had a really good time tonight. You can’t tell how she’s lying through her teeth.

You give her home one last look as she pulls the car away.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think the shadow in the window had a face, that it waved at you.

But you know better.

Monsters aren’t real.

[rose7420]

Things Get Better

When Y/n gets hurt her only hope is with the god of mischief... requested by @lokiismyhubby

(Y/S/C)- Your skin color

Warnings: Some description about a broken bone

Y/n cradled her arm closely to her chest. While sneaking around, she had lost her balance on the third shelf of Loki’s bookcase. The little literature fanatic had become too enamored by the dozens of books upon the shelves. Now, while the shelf may have been knee height for his imposing frame the drop certainly wasn’t a short one for a person of Y/n’s stature. Her foot slipped off the side as she backed up just a little too far attempting to read the spine of an eye-catching book and consequently she fell towards the hard ground holding her arms out to break her fall. Her outstretched limbs prevented her face from slamming hard into the wood but took a lot of damage. Her arm was at a very unnatural angle, tender and warm to the touch. There was no way she’d be able to fix this on her own.

She looked over to Loki’s desk where he was slouched over, staring intently at papers before him with a scowl. His head was propped up by his hand, arm resting on the table. She took a deep breath and tip-toed her way towards him. A part of her wanted him to notice her steps and the other part wanted to dash in the opposite direction.

It didn’t take a genius to guess which instinct was stronger at the time for the borrower.

She had watched Loki for a while now. The man was intelligent, cunning, and mischievous. But she still trusted him for some unknown reason. Perhaps because of the way his green eyes never missed anything, or how she felt he knew what people were thinking with a glance. No matter the fact that she was pretty sure this man was a literal wizard.

No literally, she’d watched him make books and animals appear out of thin air. Or how he’d glamour himself as a completely different person on some occasions.

Now that was creepy… but cool.

She approached his black boot that was anxiously tapping away, sending tremors through her body. Her eyes followed the extent of his form. Even sitting his frame was unfathomably large, towering over her without effort. A shiver ran through her body as she thought of all the ways he could effortlessly kill her.

Suddenly, his foot shifted and came close to knocking little Y/n off her own feet. She squeaked in alarm, drawing the attention of the giant above.

Loki’s attention was lost from the paperwork in front of him and drawn to the noise he heard below him.

How odd, he thought.

Peering down at his feet, his eyes widened at the sight of a minuscule figure standing beside his boot.

“Oh my.” He whispered.

He slowly stood up out of his chair, towering over the little being. He quickly knelt down to lessen the distance between them. He reached out a curious hand but stopped his movement when the person shouted something he couldn’t make out. As he looked closer he saw that the person was a female, and seemed to be holding their arm as if she was injured.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

The girl nodded, “Yes sir...I-I was hoping you could help me.” She stated with hesitancy, heart pounding. Could hearts pound out of your chest?

Hopefully not.

Loki’s tough facade softened immediately, knowing that such a tiny soul would ask him for help out of all people.

“Of course dear, let’s move to a different spot.” He lowered his palm before her, flattening his fingers to offer an easier step up.

Oh hell no, she thought; scrambling away from the outstretched hand.

“Hey now… I’m not going to hurt you. You asked for help, right? I’m here to help. I promise no foul play.”

He watched as she approached his hand cautiously and experimentally sunk her own hand into his skin. He held back a smile from the ticklish sensation. He was awed by the fact that this girl was no taller than his thumb, standing at most of two inches tall. She paused for a moment looking back up at Loki as if asking for permission. He nodded trying to lessen the intimidating expression he usually wore into a softer, more trustable one. Her tiny weight upon his palm tickled even more as she scooted closer to the middle of his hand. Seeing that she was settled, he curled his fingers around her but left her a good amount of breathing room.

“What’s your name dear?” He questioned, holding her at chest level.

He watched her mouth move not being able to hear her clearly. Slowly he raised his hand bearing her closer to his face, able to hear and see her clearly.

“I was not able to hear you down there, could you repeat that?” He said, missing how tense his simple movement had made the small girl.

“M-my name’s Y/n.” She stuttered, her hand of her uninjured arm twiddling with her threadbare shirt.

“Well Y/n, let’s get you fixed up, shall we?” He lowered his palm to the desk he was sitting at previously, removing all the papers with one large sweep of his arm.

Y/n was curious as to what the papers were for. She remembered watching him earlier and how agitated he’d looked while staring down at them.

“What are those papers for?” She asked innocently.

Loki looked at her confused as to why she would want to know as he sat down.

“Just paperwork.” He said simply.

Paperwork? What did that mean? Her confusion must’ve shown on her face when Loki spoke again.

“You do know what that is now Little One?”, humor coating his voice.

Rather embarrassed, Y/n’s cheeks flushed but she shook her head.

“Let me see your arm dear,” Loki ordered kindly, changing the subject. Y/n held it out hesitantly, the pain was almost unbearable as she moved the unstable limb. She cried out in pain, prompting Loki to lean in closer and pinch her slight wrist in his large fingers.

He was once again awed by how he couldn't even see the small hand between his fingers. He did however feel the dainty tendons and bones moving under his tender, gentle touch.

“How did you even manage to hurt yourself?” He asked with curiosity and worry.

“I fell off your shelf,” Y/n said meekly, ducking her head. Loki didn’t overlook her shyness, in fact, he wished to comfort her but he had to take care of the primary problem as of right now. He closed his eyes, imagining the bones mending back together and the arm reverting back to its (Y/S/C) tint. He opened his eyes and her arms were back to the original.

Y/n looked down at her arms in amazement. She turned her forearms upright and down. Looking up at Loki, who was already staring down at her she felt a smile stretch across her lips. Without thinking much of it, she jumped up enthusiastically and ran to his nearby hand. She threw her arms around his thumb.

“Thank you, Loki!”

Loki smiled and chuckled at the girl’s heartfelt actions. He curled his fingers in and wrapped her in a hug; the best he could offer at their different sizes.

“So Little One… you like books and you know my name; without me informing you of it… I must say you interest me very much so.”

Y/n immediately let go of his finger, backing away with dread. Before she got too far away she bumped into a wall… of skin? Loki’s hand blocked her from going any further, the huge palm thrice her own height.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked quizzically.

“Well, I invaded your privacy. I didn’t think humans liked that.” Y/n stated as a matter-of-fact her voice shaky.

“First of all… I am not a mortal or human as you say and secondly, it doesn’t bother me if you looked at my things. I’m rather happy to know someone likes literature as much as myself. Why don’t we settle down and find a good book to read?”

Y/n nodded still processing that he wasn’t human. That explained all the magic stuff. She watched as Loki strutted to the bookshelf bending down to look for the perfect book. Once he’d made his selection, he walked back to the desk and scooped Y/n up, holding her in a protective cave of fingers against his chest. He sat down on the plush bed and reclined his back against the headboard letting his legs stretch out. Y/n was astounded by how tall he was. The simple length of his legs surpassed her own house! He let Y/n crawl onto his chest, who found the fabric of his cotton shirt soft and warm. She snuggled in the blanket of his shirt and listened to him read. His voice was soothing as the deepness of it reverberated through her entire being. He let the book rest upon his upper stomach where she could see the page clearly but the words were still printed too big for her to read properly.

A little way into the story, an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation started on her back. She looked over her shoulder to see the tip of a large finger making circles on the itty width of her back. The rumbling beneath her stopped as Loki paused his reading. She turned all the way around, to face Loki. He stopped rubbing her back momentarily.

“Is everything all right?” He asked.

Y/n thought about that simple question. This kind giant had helped her immensely. The kindness in Loki’s heart surpassing even his immense stature. She smiled shyly back at him.

“Everything is all right.” And it truly was.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed like and reblog!

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

[labellerose-acheron]

The Acheron Cottage -- aka Swynlake’s Burrow

This is a REBOOT of the first in a series that one day may be complete but also may never be complete. As most of you know I’m like a huge #spatial person in my writing, so all my character’s houses/apartments/living spaces are really well mapped out in my brain? And I thought it’d be fun for people to see. (And a good reference for those who may RP in those spaces at some point.) 

And since we just did a whole plot where Hades and Belle renovated their house, I thought I would update their floorplan! (Also, because I’m super obsessed with this magical house.) 

@trip-downtheriverstyx, @lou-bonfightme

Overview:

The Acheron cottage is now a 3 ½ (from 1 ½) bath, 6 bedroom cottage that was built in the 1700s sometime most likely and finished renovations in late June of 2021. Due to the fact the house is now four floors, taller than most of the trees in the area, and most of the surrounding houses are only 2 floor simple farmhouses and cottages, it sticks out a bit in the landscape, not to mention its haphazard leaning-tower of Piza style architecture. The new floors look like they were just kind of slapped onto the original house. (Think the Burrow.) 

It is on 5 acres of land and backs up against the woods. There is a small stable and pasture on the land, as well as a large garden. It’s located in Southwest Swynlake, a few minutes walk from the local stable. There are neighboring farms, but they’re far enough away to not really count as proper neighbors.

Assume that all walls that are not covered by windows or other things (like closets) are full of books. The walls alternate between painted wood paneling and stone. Floors are wood except for the mud room, which are stone. The garden is shown in every photo, in order to orient yourself with which way the rooms are facing. 

Residents: 

Belle Acheron, Hades Acheron, Toulouse Bonfamille, Opal Acheron, Aidan Acheron, Bellamy Acheron, Arthur the ghost, other ghosts, chickens!, Philippe, Angus, the Black Shuck, Victoire, Vincent, Honoré, and Lord Voltaire Scalington, Destroyer of Universes.

**note: pictures in the aesthetic are to give an overall #feel of the house, but don’t necessarily indicate the exact furniture/decorations/floorplan. the floorplan, on the other hand is not quite to scale but i did the best i could.

1. Entryway

When you first walk into the house on your left is a row of hooks (made out of various odds and ends), on which to hang jackets. To your right is a little table and a mirror, probably plants added (thanks, Toulouse.) The hallway is wide but short and opens up into the living room area. The stairs are directly across from the front door. You can also see all the way through into the kitchen from the entryway.

2. Living Room

The living room is the most spacious room in the house and has remained so, even though other parts of the house were expanded. There is a large window seat beneath the front window. Two chairs and a couch are situated near the fireplace, which is dressed in the original brick, these are new pieces of furniture. It was painted a very pale, fading yellow, but now is painted a pale blue. Furniture is cozy and neutral colors (couch is a coffee colour and leather to prevent staining, chairs are a nice maroon colour, picked out by Lou with Hades’ influence). Lots of blankets (because Belle gets cold easily) and books along all the walls. A carpet is laid down beneath the couch/chairs. 

These days, there are a few family portraits in spaces on bookshelves and above the mantel: one from Belle and Hades’ wedding, of the just the two of them and one of the whole wedding party; pictures of the children and with Toulouse, of course. Also, a picture of Belle’s mother has a place of importance among one of the shelves. There is also a picture of Persephone reading with Vincent in her old room. There is also evidence of children: toys and such littered about. It is rarely ever fully clean, no matter how fuitally Hades tries. The living room–as well as the rest of the house–is home to several clocks���on walls, on shelves, etc. Belle’s father was a clockmaker and Belle and him used to fiddle with the broken ones–made them tell time backwards or too fast or only every other hour. Belle and Hades’ chess table moved from the mudroom into the living room, near the fireplace. There is almost always a game in progress.

If one has a keen eye, they will notice there are no logs by the fire, nor soot in the fireplace. Yet, often, an eerie blue fire will be burning in it during the colder months.

3. Kitchen

The kitchen was the room that increased in size the most. The wall where the stove is was knocked out and pushed backwards to shift everything to the left. It now boasts copious counterspace, as well as a large island that is usually cluttered with mail and children’s things. Refrigerator, stove, oven, no dishwasher (which is probably the bane of Hades’ existence since Belle hates doing dishes and Lou doesn’t know how.) Cabinets are cherry wood; some are refurbished, and the new ones were made to match the originals. 

Window over the sink looks out over the horse pasture in the distance (a few meters from the house.) Big, gorgeous window overlooking the garden in the “breakfast nook” area. Dining table is a cherry wood to match the cabinets and has eight matching chairs. Usually, the chairs are pushed to the walls, except for ones that are needed. This room is home to the only clock that is not digital that works in the entire house. It’s on the window ledge above the sink and was the first clock that Belle ever fixed by herself.

4. Mudroom

Where Belle always comes in from her horse rides, the door of which leads out into the garden and beyond. This is where winter clothes are stored and muddy shoes are piled by the door. It has a stone floor and is generally the coldest room in the house. The laundry machine and dryer are in this room. It used to be where Belle and Hades played chess. Now, their chess table can be found in the living room. 

5. Guest Restroom

There is a new bathroom in the mudroom, for guests and the family to use conveniently. (And for Belle to clean up when coming from outside, Hades loves it.) It is just a sink and toilet but it is much better than making everyone go upstairs when they come over.

6. The Garden

The garden was neglected for a long while, since it was Belle’s mother’s. Originally it was full of just rose bushes, but many of them had died due to neglect (whoops). Persephone managed to save a few but the ones that couldn’t be, she and Belle (with the help of Haku) ripped them out and replaced them with different vegetables and flowers. It has a low brick wall around it. It backs up almost right to the woods. It is now Toulouse’s space and he will make it beautiful, with roses and other flowers and different fruits and vegetables. The opening at the top of it leads down to the pastures and off to the right of the garden is where the woods are.

7. Hallway

There is really nothing special about the hallway. It’s actually quite blank. There are more bookshelves though, which used to make the hallway a bit of a tight squeeze but they had to expand the wall in order to include stairs going up to the third floor, so it is more spacious now (though, not by a lot.) 

8. Toulouse’s Room

This room used to be Persephone’s. It is currently Opal’s. However, it will, one day, be Toulouse’s, so I am going to describe that set up. 

As you can see from the floor plan, there are copious amounts of plants in his room. He probably has very nice silky sheets--a dark green, maybe, with green walls. He has a long bookshelf among the far wall. On top of this is Voltaire’s tank. Probably a few paintings hung up and a dresser. The door that looks like it goes to nowhere? Oh, yeah. That’s his ever-expanding magical closet. It is a walk-in and is spelled to expand the more he needs it to. It exists now, but it has a child-proof magic lock on it so that Opal cannot get into it, lol. There is a cat tower for Honoré, though both of the cats hang out in Lou’s room, because Vincent is used to it too bc it used to be Persephone’s room. 

There is a dog bed in the corner for Victoire, though she usually just sleeps with Lou, if Hades isn’t staying the night with him. 

9. Belle’s Room

This room used to be Belle’s, it’s the room she grew up in. However, right now it is currently the twins’ room. However, one day it will go back to being Belle’s, so I am going to describe that set up.

A bit more spacious than the other room (but not by too much) Belle’s room is equipped with a closet, though it isn’t that big, as well as bookshelves all along the walls. There is also a reading nook in one corner with a window seat in it that Maurice built for her (which is why it’s in such a kooky spot) and it is probably Belle’s favourite spot in the whole house (after her secret office). The walls were repainted in a splendid sky blue. Her bedsheets are blue with little flower designs on them. Belle actually doesn’t spend a whole lot of time in her room, except for when she’s getting ready for bed. And I’d say she sleeps in Hades’ room probably 2 nights a week tops, but usually less than that, tbh. 

10. Bathroom

Just your standard bathroom, nothing fancy about it. I assume Belle’s house runs on well water and it takes forever to get warm, which is the bane of everyone’s existence, especially Toulouse. This will mostly be his bathroom in the future, as Belle will take baths and such in the master bathroom.

11. Master Bedroom (Hades’ Room)

Biggest room in the house. It used to be Belle’s parents, and then Belle’s father’s. It has been Hades’ ever since he moved in. It is the neatest in the house because Hades is a tyrant about that and so even Belle’s things must be cleaned up. There’s a bedside drawer on either side of the bed, each has their own matching lamp. I imagine the bedsheets are like, extremely boring actually, like legitimately just white or a pale gray. There is also a space in this room, probably by the window, with arm chairs and a little table, where there is a chess board set up so Belle and Hades can play here too. 

On the main dresser at the top, there is a jewelry stand for Hades’ various necklaces and bracelets. There is also a watch stand. 

The walk-in closet is also extremely neat; Hades has an entire shelf for shoes which is neat of him. 

The door that looks like it goes to nowhere? Oh, yeah. That’s Belle and Hades’ secret office. More on that in the section below. ~~

12. Master Bathroom

This only gets its own shout out because a) it is where Opal was born, b) I wanted the secret office to be #13, lol, c) I have a few headcanons about it. Mostly that Belle still uses it to do most of her nighttime routine stuff, because I feel like her and Hades probably have a groove going at this point and I think it’s cute. Also, she takes a lot of baths, so she’s in there all the time. She gets ready in the hallway bathroom in the morning though, since she gets up before Hades.

It is ALSO very neat, very clean counters lol and there are lots of skin products neatly arranged in drawers. He probably cleans up every morning after Belle from the night before, lmao. (Though, she DOES respect the bathroom as His Space and cleans up after herself, just...not to his standards.)

13. Belle and Hades’ Secret Office

It has a special rune on it that locks it unless you know the way in and can disappear if you want to hide it. Inside, Belle and Hades have hidden some of their more precious artifacts and books, things that they don’t want to get into the wrong hands. 

The tan couch from the living room has been brought up to it, since it was getting far too small for the space downstairs and Belle didn’t want to get rid of it since it held so much sentimental value to them. The window looks out over the garden below, though it doesn’t actually exist to be looking out into the garden. From the outside, you cannot see it at all. It simply doesn’t exist. 

Most everything in it is new. There is a lovely circular oak table in the middle, with matching chairs, and bookshelves surrounding all available walls. The desk labeled A is Hades and the desk labeled B is Belle’s, and they are both oak to match the table and custom fitted to the room. There is also a cabinet next to the couch that has a vault-like magic’ed drawer where they can hide things.  

14. Bellamy’s Room

Eventually, this room will be Bellamy’s when the twins stop sharing a room by the time they’re about 13/14. Until then, it will be used The smallest of the three upstairs rooms. Some people might assume that Bellamy got it by default because he is technically the youngest, but he’s actually quite fine with it. He is the most like his mother when it comes to his living spaces. AKA -- he is a squirrel and likes his cozy little nest that is much messier than either of his siblings. He’s that person that puts clothes in drawers with one hand while reading with the other. 

15. Opal’s Room

Eventually, this room will be Opal’s. She’ll probably move up there when she’s like five or six, idk whatever the appropriate age would be for a kid to be more or less self-sufficient in the regard of going to sleep/getting up. In the meantime, it will probably be Lou’s because it looks out over the garden. Which means she will probably get a lot of leftover plants from him because he won’t want to disturb them. 

It is probably like a nice soft purple color or something right now. Opal constantly changes it. She repaints the room at least once a year and gets yelled at by her parents for rearranging her furniture at 2am sometimes. Also, the armchair in her room is the rocking chair that was in her nursery. 

16. Aidan’s Room

At first, this room will be both Bellamy and Aidan’s because it is the biggest of the three upstairs rooms. The bed with the book on it is Bellamy’s and the one that is empty is Aidan’s. They don’t mind sharing really and I imagine won’t get in lots of arguments about things. 

Because they are mediums, they both stay up late though they know not to disturb their parents or they’ll earn their wrath so they learn early on how to solve their own problems if they are getting on each other’s nerves. Their room is probably painted a nice pale yellow. Their biggest argument is probably closet space, because I could see Aidan being a fashionista and encroaching on Bellamy’s space and him getting annoyed about it. 

17. Children’s Bathroom

It’s a bathroom? I don’t know. There are probably lots of fights about who gets to use it first in the mornings and people taking too long. Though, there are other bathrooms that people can use. I imagine there are mornings where one of the kids just marches into Hades’ room like ALL THE BATHROOMS ARE TAKEN, I’M USING YOURS! 

What I’m saying is that privacy is an issue in this house, lmao. Yes, they expanded, but everyone is still living on top of each other.

18. Library

What? I thought there were books all over the house? Why do they need a library? 

Because there will always be more books in the house! Also, they needed another room to escape for anyone in the family who might need it. Feel like Bellamy will haunt it most often as he grows older, but Belle will go there too rather frequently. She likes to be surrounded by books. There is another chess table here (yes, that makes three.) Sometimes, Hades and Belle will sneak off to the library just to play a game of chess without being disturbed, because they don’t keep one in the office. (The office is for working, the library is for relaxation.) 

It is probably quite small actually and with a low, gabled ceiling. Floor to ceiling bookshelves all the way around the walls. 

19. Toulouse’s Studio

Unattached to the rest of the house and above Hades’ garage, is Toulouse’s art studio. To get in you have to climb a spiral iron staircase. On the west side of the studio are floor to ceiling windows that look out over the forest. On the south side of the studio is another large window (though, not floor to ceiling), that looks towards the house/the garden/the horse pastures beyond. Beneath this window is his desk. To the left of his desk is a long workbench with several stools where his woodworking and other projects will be. 

His favorite spot to paint is the place with the stool and empty easel, near the large floor-to-ceiling windows. There are also multiple plants in the room, scattered throughout. The couch actually pulls out into a bed, though it is rarely used. Sometimes, if Lou is in one of his moods, or if he just gets stuck on a project, he will stay the night in his studio.

This is Lou’s space and Belle/Hades rarely go in it, except to fetch him for dinner or whatnot. Sometimes, though, Opal will join him in it. She is the only one brave enough to put up with Lou when he’s in a bad mood and doesn’t want to be disturbed. It is also where she goes when she gets in fights with Belle and Hades, lol. Lou is the indulgent parent and everyone would rather she ran away to Lou’s art studio than to like...the wilds. 

[starlit-serenade]

ENOi with a short/tiny S/O

Summary: How ENOi would react to having a short or tiny significant other?

Word Count: 1,304 words

Pairing: Reader x Members / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader; Shin Kyuhyun (Laon); Jeon Yongtae (Dojin); Jo Hamin (Hamin); Park Donghyuk (Avin); Park Jinwoo (Jinwoo); Han Jeonghoon (J-Kid); Yang Hyuk (Gun);

Rated: E / Warnings: None / Genre: GenderNeutral!Reader; Fluff;

《 ENOi Masterlist 》

Shin Kyuhyun (Laon)

He finds it cute. Easier access for forehead kisses. He would baby you so much if you were shorter than him, but honestly he’d baby you either way. I feel like, depending on the situation, he might tease you a bit, but not too much. He finds it more cute than anything else.

Kyuhyun comes home to see you sitting at the kitchen counter, so focused on the computer screen in front of you that you don't notice his arrival.

He sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You hum and lean back into his back hug, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Hi, Baby," he hums.

"Hi Kyuhyunnie," you say, smiling up at him. "How was your day?" You turn around in your chair and smile up at him, cupping his cheeks as he smiles down at you.

"Good. Better now that I see you," he says.

Jeon Yongtae (Dojin)

He loves being taller than you. He teases you, but would stop if you ask. He thinks you being tiny is cute. However, he purposely puts things in high places so that you have to ask him for help.

Yongtae watches, amused, from the dining table as you stand on your tip-toes, trying to reach your favorite hat, which sits on the top shelf of the bookshelf. You have no idea how your hat got there--you didn't put it there, as you're too short to reach there--but Yongtae knows. He's the one who put it there. Of course, every time you ask, he says he doesn't know how it got there. His poker face is pretty good, so you accept it.

"Do you want help, Y/N?" he asks innocently. You can hear the smile in his voice, and can tell he's amused. You're still suspicious of whether or not he put it there.

"No," you say stubbornly. After another few seconds of hopelessly clawing at your hat, you realize that your arm just won't stretch enough, and sigh in defeat. "Yes. Please help me, Yongtae."

He smiles and walks over to stand next to you. He plucks the hat from the bookshelf easily and places it on your head.

"Thank you, Yongtae," you hum. "I love you."

He smiles and kisses the tip of your nose from above. "I love you too."

Jo Hamin (Hamin)

He finds you to be the most adorable human ever. I feel like he’d love it when you wear his clothes which are much too big for you because you’d look so tiny and cozy, bundled up like that. He'd love snuggling with you, too. Expect lots of forehead and cheek kithes. Also cute little nicknames.

It's a Hamin's day off, so you two decided to spend the day at home. You two are cuddled up on the couch, you lying against him, wearing one of his larger shirts which is big enough on you that it reaches your mid-thigh. You've stolen so much of his clothes throughout your relationship, but he doesn't seem to mind. You almost suspect he lets you. His arms are wrapped around you, and his hands are holding yours, and a blanket covers the both of you.

"I love you, Mini," he mumbles, halfway through the movie. He presses a kiss to your cheek before turning back to the movie.

"I love you too, Haminnie." You squeeze his hand.

He smiles softly, admiring you. You look so cute and comfy in his oversized clothes and bundled up in the blankets in his arms.

Park Donghyuk (Avin)

He constantly tells you that he finds you cute and adorable and showers you in affection. He's so very sweet to you. And yes, he babies you. He’d kiss and cuddle you and baby you a lot, and his members tease him for it.

You just got off of work and decided to visit ENOi. Besides your boyfriend Donghyuk, you haven't seen any of the members recently.

You enter their practice room, where they're currently dancing to W.A.Y in front of the mirror. Well, not really. The song is playing in the background, but only three of them are even moving to the beat. The other four members--including Donghyuk--are talking about something funny that happened yesterday.

You stand in front of the doorway patiently. When he finally notices your presence, he runs over quickly and wraps you in a hug.

"Hi, Baby," he mumbles, nuzzling his face in your neck. "My Baby."

You can hear the other members snickering, calling the two of you cute. But honestly, you don't mind.

Park Jinwoo (Jinwoo)

Jinwoo would love someone finally being shorter than him, but I don't think he'd tease you as much--though he is happy to no longer be the shortest. He'd tease you a bit, but he would baby you more, regardless of whether you were older or younger than him, constantly calling you cute nicknames and squishing your cheeks.

You visit the ENOi members at their dorm. As you enter, you see some of the members lounging around in the living room. Jinwoo, who is sitting on the couch with Hamin--both staring at their respective phones--hears your footsteps and turns his head to looks at you.

"Ah, Y/Nie, my baby!" he says, jumping to his feet and running over to hug you. He pulls away and squishes your cheek between his hands. "How's my tiny baby today? Good? Have you eaten enough?"

Before you can answer, Hamin calls from where he's sitting across the room, "Jinwoo, you're small, too!" The other members in the room all laugh.

"Yah! This isn't about that, right now!" Jinwoo yells. "This is about my baby Y/Nie."

You laugh and nuzzle his nose with yours. "You are also small, Jinwoo."

"Not you too."

Han Jeonghoon (J-Kid)

Like Yongtae, I feel like he’d intentionally put things in high places just so that you can ask him for help. He also likes seeing you in oversized clothes like sweaters. He’d kiss you from above as much as possible. Forehead kisses, nose kisses, all of it.

"Aww, look at you!" Jeonghoon says, hugging you tight after getting offstage from a performance. You had arrived midway through their performance, and knew that the air conditioning in the building would be turned to super cold, so you came in a large jacket that Jeonghoon had lent to you a long time ago.

Jeonghoon jumps down the stairs and runs over to you and hugs you tightly, lifting you off the ground. "You look so cute in this sweater!"

"It's cold out!" you say. 

"Yes, but you're still tiny and adorable," he insists. "Is this mine?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod.

"I've been looking for this for ages," he says, laughing. "The fact that it's mine makes you so much cuter in it."

Yang Hyuk (Gun)

Hyuk would tease you for being small, but at the same time, he'd baby you. He insists on doing things for you, like carrying your things and helping you with everything. Lowkey he wants to show off how strong or helpful he is.

You just bought a bunch of work supplies. Pens, pencils, sticky notes, a blank notebook. As well as your favorite chocolate and supplies for dinner. You pay as Hyuk packs the bags--three of them-- and picks them all up once you've finished paying, two bags in one hand and one in the other.

"I can carry one, Hyuk," you say. He shakes his head, smiling.

As you guys continue walking, you glance over at his hands, which carry all three bags.

"You know you don't have to carry the bags," you say.

"But I wanna do it for you," he says, poking your cheek with the hand that only carries one bag. "My little baby."

You roll your eyes, but really you find it a bit endearing. You still feel bad, though, for letting him carry all three bags.

[puzzle-dragon]

Thank you so much again for writing that sweet fic. I have more prompts! 20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference. (With Eva on the top step, please. Jasper is literally head and shoulders taller than her, my God...) and 16. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person. I can request more later if you'll still keen to write after these two. ;)

20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

Height difference fic because gosh Jasper’s so much taller than his tiny girlfriend! Second prompt coming soon in a separate post; under a read more for length (or read on ao3)

There are several hidden staircases in the Maharani as part of the network of secret passageways that run throughout the building. The one Jasper and Eva are in now leads directly to the upper level of Kindred-friendly bedrooms, one of which they claimed long ago for their own personal use. Most of the time, it is simply a convenient place to sleep for the day when there isn’t enough time to get back to their own haven before sunrise. But sometimes it’s nice to have a private room on hand for… other reasons.

They are halfway up the stairs—with Eva in front, leading Jasper by the hand as he trails behind her—when she stops in her tracks and turns around to face him. There’s a mischievous smile on her lips as she looks down at him from her high perch.

Jasper notices the shift in her demeanor. He’s used to her smiling as she drags him to bed—her eager excitement mirrored in his own eyes at the promise of getting her alone—but he learned a long time ago that a smile like that means she’s planning something.

“What?” Jasper asks, “What’s that look for?”

Eva reaches out and places both her hands on his shoulders.

“Just enjoying being taller than you for once.”

And she is taller. Jasper usually stands head and shoulders above his very petite girlfriend, but standing on the stairs, he now has to look up to meet her eyes. She smiles down at him and it is an odd, but not unpleasant, feeling to gaze up at her like this.

“And what are you going to do with your newfound power?” Jasper asks, smirking up at her.

“I think I have an idea,” she murmurs before leaning forward.

She presses her lips to his and he can taste her smile, feels her lips curve up against his as they kiss. Jasper tilts his head back for her and it makes him feel almost helpless before her—face upturned and neck bared, presenting himself for her to do with what she will in this hidden space.

The stairs give Eva the advantage of height, but they also increase the distance between her and Jasper. She is tall enough to meet his eyes without looking up now, but she can’t reach his mouth without bending forward, balancing on the edge of the step. It is a precarious arrangement, but Eva couldn’t care less when she’s kissing him like this.

She deepens the kiss, leaning into him and pushing her tongue past his lips, as she lifts one hand from his shoulder to caress his jaw. It’s a gentle sort of claiming, her pale fingers lingering on his cold skin, guiding his face to hers. That little bit of encouragement, with no real force behind it, and he follows her lead so easily. He groans into her mouth and the sound—so familiar to her now but no less enticing—urges her to press even closer.

There is still space between them, but nowhere for her to step to close that distance. As she arches into him, she finally loses her balance, one foot slipping out from underneath her. With one hand still on his jaw, Eva cannot rely on the support of Jasper’s shoulders to stop her fall and she staggers forward.

But Jasper is never surprised. He senses her misstep almost before she does and in a flash of superhuman speed, his arms are around her waist, catching her before she can do more than stumble and pulling her in close to his chest. He turns, spinning Eva in a half-circle to account for the force of her body hitting his own. She wraps her arms around his neck, her long skirt fanning out behind her as he lifts her into open air. His footing is stable—unlike hers—and there is no danger of him falling down the stairs, even as he accounts for the extra weight of her in his arms.

“You have to be careful,” Jasper teases as Eva breaks the kiss and looks up at him sheepishly, “Being tall isn’t easy. Lot of… important responsibilities come with that kind of… power.”

“Like… reaching the highest bookshelf in the library?” she asks innocently, playing along with his flirtation despite her own embarrassment.

“Exactly.”

“And…” she continues, “Carrying your very short girlfriend up the stairs so she can kiss your neck without falling down again?”

A growl rumbles low in Jasper’s chest and Eva can feel the vibrations even through his many layers of clothing.

“If you insist,” Jasper murmurs, a rough laugh finding its way into his voice as he adjusts his grip on her, hooking one arm under Eva’s knees while the other remains wrapped around her back, cradling her close to his chest as he turns and takes the next step up the stairs.

Eva can admit that being tall has its merits; but as she trails insistent kisses across Jasper’s neck and under his jaw as they make their way toward their shared bedroom, she can’t help but smile at the thought that she is small enough for him to carry through the confined stairwell with ease.

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

Please, keep me. (Good Omens)

Part 5! I finally found a title! This whole write every day thing for NaNoWriMo thing is really hard when you have a migraine, so I wrote a long chapter over two days. I’m finally getting to the meat of what I wanted to write. 

Part 1. 

It had been a long time since Crowley could remember being this excited.

He had practised switching between his two legged form and his no legged form multiple times throughout the day, sacrificing his usual pleasure of sleep to slip between forms at will. It became easier with each transformation and very soon he felt as comfortable with no legs and a tail as he did with opposable thumbs. He enjoyed the hissing too, and the fact his jaw could unhinge in such a dramatic way - there was a certain flare for drama within this lithe form which he appreciated. 

When he finally felt ready to debut his disguise, he took extra caution not to be seen as he made his way through the downstairs hallways of rooms. He wasn’t usually even conscious at this time of day, let alone up and active. He kept his head down reaching the refectory hall and moved carefully to the library door. He was here even before the Dawn to Day shift were finished, wanting to be in position in the bookcases before the Keepers even arrived. Slipping into the darkened library, Crowley scowled as the small glowing orb above him gently hummed into life as he moved under it. Hopefully he wouldn’t set them off once hidden in his snake form, but that would be easy to find out. He closed his eyes and concentrated, casting his mind outside of his skin and pulling himself long, weaving his form into the long column of snake. It only took a minute or so this time to fully realise the form, his scales rippling as they laid into place. He blinked slowly, craning his neck upwards to stretch and test the limit of his body. Checking over the coils of black and red body proved satisfactory and he aimed further up, resting his chin on a layer of books at roughly shoulder height and hoisted himself up using a complicated arrangement of muscles. His body fit neatly into the gaps above the books and below the next shelf, and he was able to slot himself further in along the back wall of the bookcase than previously thought. He twisted upwards again, moving up until he was just above the reach of the small glowing lights, in an area he hoped would be obscured to anyone looking up, but a good vantage point to spy on. Up on these taller shelves the book sat away from the wall, creating a negative space behind them which was even better for hiding in. He moved along this passage cautiously, the dark a little harder to see through but his senses through the snake perception were strong and he didn’t bump his nose on anything hard or dusty. Reaching the inevitable barrier between bookcases he had assumed he would have to weave out and around as he went, but as luck would have it - or possibly some slight miracle - there were gaps going between the two cases as if someone had created little circular doorways at each junction. 

How fortunate. And how fortunate that they were exactly the correct size for his body to slip through unimpeded. A shiver of pleasure rippled through Crowley’s body as he lifted himself back onto the books, peering down into the waiting corridors. Now he could indulge himself without care. A sort of contentment washed over him as he settled down in his hiding spot, the glowing light under him now fading as the motion that had awakened it was lost. He was only a stone’s throw from the entrance to the library, and before the fork in the path so there was no way he would miss the Keeper. He heard the bell toll signalling the end of the Dawn shift, its solemn tone moving through Paradise as if unaffected by walls. Listening carefully, he heard the movement of angels leaving their duties and joining together again in the hall. The quiet hubbub of chatter and laughter almost covered up the thing Crowley wanted to hear most of all. Almost, but not entirely. The gentle patter of bare feet on stone floor. 

Even before the orb beneath him hummed into life and he spotted the soft curls he knew it was his angel. It made sense that the Keeper would be so keen to return to his duties after spending the night locked away with whichever book he had borrowed. The angel moved surprisingly quickly past him, Crowley’s heart leaping into his throat as he passed beneath him only a few feet away. It was the closest Crowley had ever been to him, and he rippled in pleasure again before setting off to follow him down the corridors. The angel moved quickly and Crowley was impeded by his motion through the bookcases, having to lift his head to check which direction the Keeper went in before following. He lost sight of the angel but could trace him using the sound of his feet and the rustling of his robes. When he caught up to him the angel was back in the same place he had found him last time, kneeling as he pushed the book he had freed from his robes back into place. 

“There we are,” he heard his gentle voice say. “Back home, with your friends,” 

The angel stayed kneeling and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. He marked something in ink before whisking it away. Turning on his heel he quickly moved back the way he had come and turned a corner, moving away from Crowley.

Crowley blinked slowly. He had not considered this. There was no obvious way to cross to the other side of the hallway, narrow as it was, and the angel was already gone out of sight. Crowley hissed in a low noise, frustrated. There must be a way across. He eyed the distance, his depth perception a little less trustworthy than in his other form. He could in theory change back and walk the single step across and change back again. This option annoyed him. Maybe he could simply reach? 

Using his tail as an anchor he experimentally pushed his head out into the open air. He listened again carefully but nothing happened. He kept extending inch by inch, aiming for the row of books directly opposite him. 

Not much further… 

There was a sudden lurch as the weight of his midsection toppled the series of books he had been resting on, and he slipped forward, his tail losing grip as he fell. He landed in a huddle, hitting his jaw on the stone floor with a solid whack and his body twisting on top of him, along with several heavy books. 

It hurt. A lot. Crowley hissed from the floor, feeling parts of him that did not understand which part of him they were complain. A noise from down the corridor and he stiffened, before quickly moving away from the books and shuffling inelegantly to hide in the lowest part of the bookshelf. Peering from over the lip of a particularly study set of leather bound volumes he watched as the angel returned to the source of the noise. Four books lay in a shamble on the floor, one sticking up at an odd angle with its pages all crumpled into the floor. Another had split its spine when it hit Crowley squarely in a coil that would have been somewhere near his elbow. 

The angel made a soft noise and knelt by the books, his quick hands righting them and gathering them up, smoothing down parchment pages and running his fingers across the covers to assess for tears. As he ran his thumb across the split spine it glowed gently, fibres reaching out and pulling themselves back together like they had never been apart. 

“Oh dear,” he said to himself, or to the books. 

He straightened so Crowley could only see his feet and then extended onto his toes as he strained to rehome the books. 

“How in Paradise…” 

The angel was muttering under his breath, as if scolding the books for their unintentional leap to the floor. Crowley watched, nudging his nose out a bit further from the bottom shelf, as the angel struggled to reach the high shelf. He almost snorted in amusement when the Keeper hitched his leg up and climbed the bookcase, the books placed in easy grabbing distance as he held onto the carved beam that edged the shelves. As he reached a piece of paper freed itself from the pocket of his robes and fluttered down towards Crowley. It slid close to him, settling just on the other side of the books. Crowley eyed it, glancing back up at the angel who was still carefully repositioning books, before slinking his head out of the shelf to try and pick up the paper. It proved a little more difficult than he anticipated but he managed to get a hold of it and pull it back into the shadows of the shelf just as the angel descended back to the ground. 

“First the tiny teapot, and now this. Strange days indeed,” muttered the angel to himself as he straightened his robes. Crowley watched him head back the way he had come, oblivious to Crowley’s snatching up of his note. Alone Crowley pulled it back into the shelf and rotated it with a careful manoeuvring of his nose. 

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - E.D.

Crowley would have to hide this little note here, and come back for it later when he was ready to slip away. With that thought he quickly followed along after the Keeper, keeping to the shadows but mindful to try and keep up. 

It turned out the little Keeper was actually quite efficient, which was a mild surprise to Crowley, who sincerely believed the angel just hid himself away at every opportunity to ignore his duties and read. He quickly found that following the angel down every branching corridor and hallway was a considerable waste of effort, particularly when he had to find a way to change sides or even do some bizarre form of snake u-turn when the angel abruptly changed direction. 

Whilst he might not be getting any indulgent spying done, he was definitely learning a lot about the little Keeper. Despite his short stature the angel was surprisingly quick on his feet, rushing about in quite a frenzy as he performed seemingly endless duties. He worked alone, occasionally passing by another Keeper who would hand him a pile of books or an assortment of parchments to be rolled up and stored away in drawers that seemed randomly scattered throughout the library. No matter what he was tasked with, how many books he carried, the angel always seemed to know exactly where he was going, which bookshelf the book belonged in, slotted in to fit perfectly. There were no markers anywhere to even ground them in a single place, and Crowley didn’t understand how the angel kept his bearings as he flurried through the shelves completely focussed on his tasks. 

Had Crowley been blessed with a little less stamina and a little more sloth, he would have probably curled up and gone to sleep, waiting until the Keeper wore himself out and went back to his endearing habit of bending the rules. In Crowley’s favour was another delightful fact he learned about the angel. He talked to himself. He talked to the books. He talked to the lights above them. He even talked to his own robes when they got tangled in his feet. Not just that, but when he had nothing to say he hadn’t already said, he hummed. 

This small fact stayed in Crowley’s chest and glowed like a small treasure, hanging on every muttered word and gentle sigh and the intermittent but wonderful sound of humming. Soft melodies that lilted and flurried along much like the angel himself. They danced a merry jig through the air from the angel to where Crowley lay hiding in the shadows, looking up towards the angel with a halo of light illuminating his hair and cheerfully ticking off books from an absurdly long list. 

Crowley could listen to his angel hum his songs all day, and all night, and all through the next one too. 

There was music in Paradise, sometimes a bit too much of it when She was in the mood, but it wasn’t like this. This was unstudied and unlabourious and so gentle in comparison to a thousand trumpets matching with two thousand harps, angels lined up in rows to belt out the same celestial harmonies over and over. This was spontaneous and imperfect, with a softness Crowley wanted to wrap himself in. 

“Oh piss it,” came a sudden outburst, cutting off the music. Crowley almost laughed out loud, his tongue flicking out rapidly as he watched the angel frown at the book he had been mending with that golden glow of his thumb. The little Keeper turned his thumb to the side, a small flash of crimson on the pad before he stuck it into his mouth with a small frown on his face. Not angry, more hurt and disappointed that the book he was still lovingly holding had dared to give him a papercut. 

“You foul thing,” scolded the angel, removing his completely fine thumb from his mouth. He took another look at his skin, as if the mark somehow remained, and sighed heavily before switching to his other hand to continue the golden healing light. 

Once finished, he placed the book carefully at the top of the stack of books by his side and shifted backwards, stretching his back whilst relaxing against the side of the bookcase he sat against. He was resting a hand on the next book to be Kept, and staring a little absentmindedly at his own thumb as it rested in his lap. Heaving what seemed like an enormous sigh for such a small angel, he lifted his gaze and stared at nothing as his eyes clouded a little. Crowley could see his face properly, for the first time since he had first noticed him. They were mere feet apart, the angel sitting alone on the stone floor with such a tired expression on his face, and Crowley hiding in the shadows. 

Crowley found himself moving forward by the smallest fraction of measurements, soaking up every detail of his angel’s face. A soft face made softer by the unruly white hair that curled around it, looking as delicate as lamb’s wool. His skin was as pale as his robes, all of him appearing as if some hazy daydream. Only the slight pink of his lips and the colour of his eyes seemed to stand out from delicate colour palette. Blue eyes. Soft eyes, ringed with flecks of ice and gold. Eyes framed in lines that spoke of a thousand emotions played out on the theatre of his expressive face - smiling and laughing and wincing and weeping, all wound up together in the little Keeper’s face, so utterly devoted to the stories he guarded. 

If Crowley were feeling bold he could move forward a little more, let the light travel along the ridge of his nose and his golden eyes would draw the attention of those icy blue eyes. He would take his attention for his own and keep it close, focusing only on himself. Maybe he would speak to him. To hear his words spoken only for Crowley.

“Oh, there you are,” 

Crowley hissed in surprise, drawing back against the back of the bookcase as the Keeper jumped, his hand knocking the book from his stack. Another angel was at his side, having apparently come from somewhere else in the library, and Crowley already hated them. 

“Oh, Paschar, hello,” 

The little Keeper didn’t sound particularly happy to be approached. There was a slightly guarded tone to his voice that Crowley only noticed from spending several hours cataloguing how he spoke to the books when he was alone (or at least thought he was). 

Paschar wasn’t a Keeper. He was one of the Speakers of the Word, a small band of angels that had a lot to say about themselves whilst they went about doing their Speaking. Crowley spent a good portion of existence avoiding the Speakers, and a good few other of the ‘inner circle’ lot, as much as possible. Paschar was standing above the Keeper, somehow a little too close, and Crowley eyed his ankles from his vantage point of the floor. 

“Why are you sitting,” Paschar gestured vaguely with a finger at the Keeper and his two piles of books, his long list spilling out of his lap onto the floor, “like this?”

The Keeper glanced down, frowning as if the question was entirely stupid (it was).

“I’m Keeping,” he said shortly, as if it were obvious (it was.). 

“What do you… want?” he trailed a little in the middle, looking back up with an expression that hoped for something short and easy to answer (it wasn’t.).

“There are Words to be Spoken, and what is Spoken must be Written, and what is Written must be Kept,” intoned Paschar, with the same kind of loud pompous voice that came directly from the diaphragm with very little self-awareness. The Keeper blinked, only a small drop on one side of his polite smile revealing his disappointment. 

“Oh, I see. Must be Written. Of course,” he said, looking back at his comfortable little spot. He paused, looking up again with a slight hopeful lifting of the eyebrows. “I don’t suppose Tabbris…?”

“Tabbris is occupied in Heaven’s many duties. Your presence is required so that the Words that are Spoken, may be Written, so they may be-”

“Kept, yes, of course,” the Keeper interrupted, looking like he’d must rather be doing anything other than Writing the Words that must be Spoken. He looked down at his books, carefully picking the knocked one up and placing it on the pile again. “Um, when would She-”

“Now is the time for Writing, so Now is when you must come,” intoned Paschar, a tone of impatience creeping in. 

“Alright, of course, now,” agreed the angel, finally moving to roll up his list and put away his ink. 

“Leave these things, the time is Now, so Now is when you must come,”

Unseen by Paschar, Crowley watched the Keeper roll his eyes in an exasperated motion of someone endlessly bothered by other people, before turning and climbing to his feet without a single ounce of enthusiasm.

“Yes, well, lead the way Now and I will follow,” 

There was a beat of silence, and Paschar, visibly annoyed by the Keeper mirroring of his tone but unsure as to what exactly annoyed him about it, turned on one heel and began a sort of march away, his shoulders stiff and grey robes trailing behind him anticlimactically. The Keeper sighed, turned to the pile of books and offered his hands to them in a placating manner. 

“Stay here. I’ll be right back, I promise,” he told them, with so much tenderness that Crowley could have laughed again, delighted by this whole affair. 

“Aziraphale!” called Paschar’s voice again, irritation clear. 

The Keeper sighed again, rolled his eyes once more in a motion that seemed to travel through his entire body and turned to follow the Speaker away. 

Crowley, in his little hiding spot, could have rolled over on his back and giggled out of every single emotion - he could barely contain himself. This first visit had been everything he could ever have hoped for, ever have dreamed! His Keeper talked to books as well as reading them. He hummed as he worked. He had blue eyes that shone like the stars Crowley painted. He had a name! He hissed happily as he let the name permeate through him, sweet and smooth like the finest of wines. 

“Azzziraphale,” 

[witchyvampyre]

Oh, and Hestia and 11 for Harry Potter asks!

11: who's your favorite non-human character?

To be honest, my favorite non-human character is either Dobby or Aragog.

Hestia: describe your ideal house

I actually had a friend ask me this the other day and it's quite long. But the short of it is a 2 story, stone cottage that looks like a witch hovel.

Scene

You turn off the street through a rod iron, ivy covered gate, Down a treelined rough brick drive, the house is hidden from the road by trees and the gate that is half cobblestone half rod iron with ivy spilling over the top in spots. The house is seemingly placed on a pedistul with rock stairs built into the hill from the drive that leads to a rock path through the small lawn that is littered with purple thyme and wildflowers that grow about ankle height.

Surrounding the house is a small cluttered garden of herbs and flowers purposefully creating a wild forest of witchy and homeopathic ingredients that smell divine. There is a well positioned porch that wraps around the opposite side of the house with more potted plants littering around a few chairs and an end table which holds a vintage bed warmer being used as an ashtray. The front door is purple and rounded at the top. With 2 mini windows in it and iron support bars acrost the wooden panelling.

Inside the front door there is a little stone tile entryway with shoes littering the wall to the right behind the door with hooks for coats . To the left there is a small table against the parallel wall with mail and a bowl for keys and an umbrella stand with hats and scarves and leashes for the animals. Passed the entryway the floor changes to older wood flooring, at the end of the wall to the right opens to the dining room with a rough cut, viking style, repurposed wood table with 8 chairs atop an area rug. The table has a hidden leaf to accommodate the 4 chairs stored at various places against the walls of the room. There is a beautiful Victorian style China cabinet filled with a variety of different china patterns on the far wall. There is a buffet table on the adjacent wall (across from the large window that faces the lawn) with a lovely doily runner and dried flowers displayed with tall candlesticks on either side and a crystal candy dish on one side filled with butterscotch and peppermint candies. There is a sliding pocket door beside the buffet table that leads to the kitchen.

The kitchen is a moderate size with vintage tins for each bulk ingredient, drying herbs and flowers hanging all around. There is more ivy growing around the cabinets, which have fogged glass doors, and the bottom cabinets have curtains. There is a garden sink with a window looking out to the wrap around porch and an island in the middle with a grate hanging above it which stores baking pans and hangs pots/pans and various other things. There is a door way to the left of the door you just came through that leads back to the hallway and a walk-in pantry to the right with a hidden root veggie and wine storage beneath a trap door in the floorboard. On the opposite wall of the pocket door you just came through between the oven and the refrigerator, there is a farm door that leads out to the back part of the porch with a secondary screen door.

Going through the door to the left you're back in the entryway/hallway where you can see into the open livingroom passed the bottom of the stairs. Beneath the stairs there is the half bath, a simple toilet and sink set up. The livingroom has a small library in the front of the house surrounding a bay window that doubles as a comfy reading nook crapped in vintage lace curtains. (There is no TV!) There is a wood burning fireplace in the center of the far wall an alter is set up on the mantle with a swing arm that holds my cauldron over the fire fronted by a couple of wingback chairs. To the right further in the house there is a Victorian style couch with a small but long coffee table (with floor pillows stored underneath) facing a TV mounted to the wall surrounded by mounted gaming systems and music system complete with record player. In the corner there is a closet with records, movies, internet router, board games, blankets, and other various things.

Up the wooden stairs the floor the center of the layout is hall with 5 doors. The hallway in the upper floor curls to the left. And there are 2 doors on the left, one ahead, and 2 on the right wall and on at the end of the hall to the left. The closest door is at the top of the stairs to the right. Which leads to an office/library/craft room with shelf's lining the walls except the wall with the window which has a work desk that houses my computer, various printers (3d philament/resin, ink, and graphite), and the scanner. There is a closet to the far right which houses various tools, fabric, etc. In the middle of the room is another work table that looks more like an oversized cutting mat with a few chairs and stools surrounding it. Looks like we've had more than a few paint and marker fights over it. There is a rocking chair in the corner with a small foot stool that has a lovely crochet throw over it for reading when I don't want to go downstairs.

Back in the hall the next door is a full bathroom which has a lovely larger than standard tub in it with a small cabinet over the toilet and a farmhouse washing basin style sink. It is more of a vintage meets farmhouse style guest bathroom. With tile flooring and a small window with a stained glass. There are a few hooks for towels behind the door and on the wall beside the tub for easy access. A few small fluffy rugs to keep people from leaving puddles on the floor. The curtain for the tub is wrap around with some sort of quilted pattern on it. It's not a huge room but is big enough to bathe the baby while your teenager tries to fix their eyeliner in the mirror. Lol

(All of the floors are wood with at least one area rug in it to accent the color or mood of the room)

The next door you come too is a guest bedroom. It is about the size of the office with a queen sized bed pushed almost against the far right corner. There is a small end table with a lamp allowing for a bit of walking room between the bed and the far wall (opposite the door). There is a small chest of drawers across from the bed to the right with a vanity mirror and a vintage washbasin on top complete with pitcher and handtowel. Beside it is a small door to a closet with extra linens and pillows. It's relatively empty other than a few extra things like winter coats and a few hidden Christmas gifts for next year and a forgotten golf bag that dad left last time he was there to visit. Beside the door to the left there is a taller chest of drawers with a few pictures of family get togethers and fun memories on the walls. There are two windows one that overlooks the backyard and one that is on the wall opposite the door. It's simple cute and cozy.

The next door is the kids bedroom. (If I have three the guest bed will be the oldest siblings room before they move out and the younger two will more than likely be twins so they'll share or will segregate boy/girl etc.) The kids room is bigger than the guest room. With a bed coming out of the middle of the wall to the left. To the right there is a large mirror-double-doored wardrobe which houses clothes, shoes, uniforms, hats, winter wear etc. In the Tob there is a shelf for a few extra linens for sleep overs or whathaveyou. There is again 2 windows. There is a blown glass style window above the headboard of the bed which has a drapey sheer curtain that falls behind the bed, and there is a more stained glass window to the wall opposite the door that is behind a sort of work desk littered with books and papers and a laotop. Their school bag hangs by one shoulder strap off the chair. There is a more modern floor lamp beside it with a rubbish bin beneath it overflowing with wadded paper. There is a bookshelf to the right of the desk between the wardrobe and the wall full of novels and a radio/Bluetooth speaker. It also stores games and other things my kid has collected (stolen from me) over the years. On the wall to the left of the door is a huge lovesac covered in laundry next to the laundry basket in the corner. There are a vanity to the right of the bed and a small end table to the left (between the bed and the wall). both are littered with books, jewelry, makeup, niknacks,chargers, and a lamp. I don't want to know what's under the bed, but there is a small chaise at the foot of the bed. There is enough floor space to have a blanket fort or a small sumber party of about 6 kids.

The last room is the master suite. You walk in the door, and there is an attached bathroom to the left. Through a door at the far corner of the room. The queen sized bed is rod iron, with a lovely victorian Italian feel to it. It is against the far wall coming out from the middle with an end table on either side (his and her style). At the foot of the bed there is a chaise with shoes underneath. To the right of the door there is a window that overlooks the front of the house, it looks to have a bit of a window seat for reading. There is a glider chair int he corner beside the window. With a foot stool infront of it. To the left between the glider and the bedside table seems to be a combination of a quilt rack and a Butler station with a hanging suit and a little surface with my husband's daily accessories on it (wallet, belt, cologne, rings, knives, etc). To the left of the entry door is a bit more witchy/girly. There is a small writing desk that looks to double as a vanity with a collection of vintage and antique niknacks with drawers and built-in storage for my jewelry, knives, stamps, stationary, passports, etc. Between the vanity and the bathroom door looks to be a 5 panel changing screen where I have a few outfits hanging on a vintage clothes rack behind it. my silky house coat and a towel seem to have taken residence draping over one of the screen panels. Through the bathroom door there is a larger garden claw-foot tub with a Waterfall showerhead that takes up the majority of the back wall. There is stone tile flooring that also lines the walls about a 3rd of the way from the floor. The sink is to the left of the door and is a bit modern and standard with cabinetry beneath in storing towels (extras included) as well as toiletries and toilet paper. There is a cabinet over the toilet to the right that stores most of my body and hair products including my husband's few various products for hair care and maintenance. There is a small stainglass window that lets in natural light between the tub and the toilet where the towel rack is mounted just below it. And there are a few hooks behind the door as well as right next to the tub(to the left) for towels and robes for dressing.

When you go back downstairs passed the half bath between the stairs an dthe livingroom there is a sort of mudroom/laundry room. That leads to the back porch (is about 8 feed from the kitchen door which is to the right) to the left there is a set of stairs that lead you to the little bit of a backyard that has a trampoline and an in-ground pool. There may be a 2 door garage to the left where the workshop is for building and restoring/fixing things along with a section for gardening stuff. I really hate grads do there will be little pads of clover and creeping thyme as well as little gardens lining the gate and overgrown ivy with a few trees--one has a tree swing. Maybe the kid and my spouse plan on building a treehouse soon. I probably have a little garden labarenth hidden in the corner somewhere to do ritual outside. Or offering or whatever.

Yea... That's my house.

[aardvark-123]

Gensokyo Festival Day 15: Attack on Watermelon

Here’s a cute little story about Tenshi’s quiet introspection with Suika, and nothing else:

(Yeah, right.)

When Reimu first codified the spell-card rules, she tucked a very pertinent paragraph in among pages and pages of waffle about the precise definition of "a bullet". The so-called Blazing Fist Clause stated that, if all parties involved thought it would be fun and there was no risk of collateral damage, people were allowed to forget about danmaku and just wail on each other.

Although most Gensokyans had already fallen in love with spell-cards, Suika Ibuki was eager for a good punch-up. After several melee-centric Incidents, Reimu wrote a set of variant spell-card rules for large, complicated brawls and hand-to-hand duels. Energy levels in the Eastern Wonderland had never been higher.

"Oi, Tenshi! Are you home?!"

"Urf..." Tenshi slowly pried her eyelids apart and immediately wished she hadn't. Going to one of her mother's all-night dance parties had been a mistake; mainstream Celestial fun times always took it out of her. "More or less... Who are you?"

"It'sh me, of courshe!" Suika hiccupped loudly. "Your mum'sh planning a, like, a short of poetry recital-"

"Tell her to kill herself." Tenshi buried her head under the pillow and tried to get back to her dream. Let's see, Marisa was just about to take her bloomers off-

"Come on, lazy-bonesh, get up!"

A small, pudgy hand grasped Tenshi by the forearm. Before she could react, she was being swung wildly above Suika's head.

"That'sh more like it! Get up an'... an' carp the diadem!" Suika threw Tenshi into her private peach grove.

"Owww..." Tenshi pulled a few twigs out of her hair and wiped the worst of the peach juice off her nightshirt. "What time is it?"

"I jusht woke up."

"That late?!" gasped Tenshi. "I'd better go and... do something! Or whatever. Uh, feel free to make yourself at home."

Suika took a bleary look at Tenshi's place. It wasn't much of a home; just a futon, a bookshelf, a stove and some weights, plus a few well-watered peach trees.

"Help yourself to my library," added Tenshi, selecting a few tasty-looking peaches from her trees. "Have you had breakfast? I've got some bread and cheese under my bed for people who aren't Celestials. It'll be a bit flat and pongy, but you might like it."

"Uh... I don't wanna imposhe..." It wasn't much of a library; just a few yuri manga volumes, a copy of 'Journey to the West' and a few dozen Shonen Jump magazines in no particular order. "D'you wanna arm-wreshtle or shomething?"

"No way! Mum broke my arm last night and it still hurts," said Tenshi ruefully. "Apparently I have to wear some kind of jumpsuit if I want to dance. I don't know... She's been on at me to wear more pretty dresses for two hundred years, but the moment she becomes a bloody Celestial-"

"What if, like, we ushed our other armsh?!" cried Suika, glowing with pride over her amazing idea. "I mean, you ushe the one she didn't break, an' I ushe... Um... My equivalent arm!"

"No, thanks." Tenshi plonked herself down on the futon and ate her peaches, crunching the stones between teeth like very small granite boulders.

"Oh, you're no fun..." Suika swatted Tenshi on the shoulder, sending her tumbling into her bookshelves. A heap of paperbacks and splintered wood fell on top of her.

Suika cringed drunkenly. "Whoopsh... Shouldn't'a done that, should I?"

"You absolutely should not!" snapped Tenshi. She marched over to Suika, leaving a trail of mangled bookshelf in her wake, and gave the oni a swift kick in the face. Suika sailed right off the edge of the cloud.

"There we go!" said Tenshi, beaming with pride. "I'm sure that's not going to have any negative consequences whatsoever."

"Shtupid blue-haired meanie... I'll show her!"

"Wha-?" Sanae looked around in amazement. "Lady Suwako, did you hear that?"

Suwako gave Sanae a questioning look. "I didn't hear anything. What did you hear?"

"A voice." Sanae's eyes were wide with fear. "It was coming from over there. Or there, maybe. Or there!" She pointed in three completely different directions.

"That's a big help," said Suwako condescendingly. "It was probably just some youkai playing around. Come on, let's get back to-"

"I'm coming for you, Tenshi! Jusht wait 'til I work out which way ish up, I'll be out of thish shwamp in a jiffy!"

Sanae and Suwako almost jumped out of their skins. There was no mistaking it this time; a voice was coming from the muddy ditch next to the path.

Suwako stepped over a few brambles and approached the ditch. "Hello?! Anyone in there?!"

Something stirred among the reeds and sludge. "I think I am," the voice declared, bubbling up through the murky water. "I kind of fell in, and I can't sheem to, y'know, get out..."

"Are you stuck or just drunk?" asked Suwako.

Sanae shifted nervously. "I don't think we should stick around..."

"Come on, it's not as if that thing could beat the two of us!" said Suwako, smiling cockily.

"Whaddaya mean, 'thing'?! I am an oni!" The ditch bubbled and gurgled angrily as its resident spoke. "I'm the greatesht of them all, I am! Shuika Ikubi! I mean Ibiku! Whatever!"

Sanae looked at Suwako, who shrugged broadly.

"Tenshi short of kicked me offa' her cloud," Suika explained. "I'm gonna go an' shmash up Heaven, jusht ash shoon ash I can get out..."

Sanae gasped. "Smash up Heaven?! You can't! People live there!"

"They desherve it!" shnapped- sorry, snapped Suika. "It ish a bit high up, though... Maybe I'll jusht shmash up a few shrinesh, shee if Tenshi comesh down to try an' shtop me."

Now it was Suwako's turn to gasp. "But we live in a shrine!"

"Hey, great! You can show me where it ish!" said Suika delightedly.

"No way! If you even touch our shrine, I'll mash you!" snapped Suwako. "Come on, Sanae, we don't need to bother with her."

Suika exploded out of the ditch, showering Sanae and Suwako in mud and brackish water. Within a matter of seconds she was towering over them, growing taller at an incredible rate.

Suwako groaned. "I suppose I stand corrected."

Sanae slung Suwako over her shoulder and booked it.

Suika's terrible rampage started out as nothing more than a drunken totter over the meadows, with the now hundred-metre-tall oni kicking over the occasional tree. However, she soon set her sights on Youkai Mountain, at which point Kanako decided to do something.

"And I believe I know just the thing!" she added, smiling a dangerous serpentine smile.

"Really?" Suwako was not convinced. "We've hardly tested him, and there's no telling what might happen if he blows up with us still inside..."

"Oh, do let's go, Lady Suwako! It'll be so much fun!" pleaded Sanae.

"Fine. If we all die horribly, I'm blaming you, Kanako."

The goddesses flew to the peak of Youkai Mountain as fast as they could. A youkai from the Former Capital of Former Hell was already waiting for them, her broken wagon wheel blazing around her neck. She led them through the long, winding tunnel to the secret hangar.

The kappas, the tengu and all the people of the underground city had come together to build their new protector. As tall as a skyscraper and built almost entirely with recycled materials, he was truly a sight to behold.

Sanae slid into the pilot's seat, strapped herself in and immediately began examining the readouts. "Reactor at full capacity! Uranium reserves at ninety-seven percent! Main fuel tanks at one hundred percent in both arms!"

"Pilot's voice reaching critical annoyance levels! Recommend immediate smack upside the head!" said Kanako warningly.

"Sorry. I'm just so excited..." said Sanae sheepishly. "Everything seems all right. Can we get going?"

"Now's as good a time as any." Kanako activated the intercom system. "All systems are operational. Someone open the door, chop-chop!"

The peak of the mountain creaked slowly open, dropping half a ton of snow on top of a passing tengu. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the mech's windscreens, almost dazzling Sanae after her brief spell in the dark.

"All right, Sanae, bring us slowly up out of the mountain-"

Sanae floored the accelerator. "Bring light to the tear-stained Gensokyo! Now, with all your might! Unleash your light, Super Robot! Hisoutensoku, ADVANCE!"

[jiminwreckedme]

7 Letters

Chapter 2 - He who lived in Affluēns.

| Prologue | 1 | 

Member - Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x reader

Genre - Angst, Fluff, (future) smut

Word count - 4,560

Summary -  A mysterious person who writes on your skin, an interesting co-worker who is making his way into your heart. A man whose past you need to know and a man who needs to understand your present. In a journey that takes you beyond the boundaries of time, sanity and love, you are left torn between choices to make and decisions to take.

And no. Not everything was about love. It was also about destiny.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable, I’ll get you a towel.”

You held the door of your house open for Jungkook, who shivered a little and smiled at you gratefully. He walked in, sliding his bag off his shoulders on to your dining table, leaving a trail of water which dripped from his clothes all over the small space you called your living room. You quickly grabbed a towel and handed it to him so he could dry himself then walked into the kitchen to whip up something nice and hot for him so you could ease your guilt.

The time was 8 now and you were supposed to be at work 2 hours ago to go through the presentation one last time before you showed it to your client later in the evening. But somehow yesterday your phone accidentally landed up in the toilet bowl and that in turn lead to two things - One, you oversleeping, because you didn't have an alarm to wake you up. And two, you not being able to receive any of the hundreds of calls Jungkook made. He had been so worried sick that he rushed on his bike to your house to check on you, getting thoroughly drenched in the pouring rain, banging on your front door finally waking you up. You took a minute to quickly throw a sweater over you and change out of your shorts into pants before he almost broke down the door.

Jungkook walked into the kitchen, rubbing the towel at the back of his head through his damp hair. The wet strands that were falling in his eyes were dripping with tiny droplets of water that were catching the sun’s light. Dripping onto his already wet white shirt, that was sticking to his body in a dangerously attractive way. You tore your eyes away from the alluring sight and returned to the stove making some hot chocolate for him.

“Your house is pretty.” he said leaning against the doorway casually. “I love that painting over there.”

You smiled, knowing what he was pointing at without even looking up - the watercolor painting of a world map. After all, it was the one thing in your house you were proud of. There was something about that piece that caught your attention when you saw it in the antiques shop sitting in a corner for god knows how many centuries. It seemed as though the one who made it was trying to tell a story through the plethora of hues by merging and mixing and splattering the different shades all over. It was as though the each color was intended to signified something, maybe an emotion or a sentiment attached to that particular place. It took you nearly two whole weeks to restore the painting, repairing the weakened canvas, repairing the paint loss and all that while you only thought about why the painter had chosen very particular colors for his work. Perhaps you were over thinking it but nevertheless is impressed you. And took away a large chuck of your wallet. 

Next to it you had stuck Polaroids that you had taken of the few cities on your bucket list you managed to visit because of student exchange programs, the only reason you studied hard to become a school topper. While looking at them made you happy most of the days, there was also always an underlying sense of sadness attached to it. Because in each of those pictures you were alone. Life is only beautiful when you have someone to share it with. You had no one.

You lived alone in a studio apartment that was barely 600 square feet to be called a house, yet you had tried to use all your interior designer skills to make it a much better place. It was a simple space - a bed, a closet, a dining table which would transform into your work space when needed, a small kitchen in which you hardly cooked, an attached bathroom and a small reading corner where you had a bookshelf filled with your favorite literature works, a corner you spent most of your free time these days because you only ever got out of the house to go to work. Or for chocolate sometimes with Jungkook.

“I wish I had coffee in the house for you. It must be nice to have coffee in such a weather” you glanced outside the window in front of you looking at the rain that was so gracefully falling to meet it's end against the stone-cold pavements. Funny things these raindrops were. You always wondered how they tumbled right out of the sky, forgetting their parachutes, breaking their legs, shattering as they fell towards their uncertain end. Why would someone so willingly throw themselves into such misery?

“Chocolate is fine too.” you snap out of your thoughts at his voice. “Chocolate seems more like our thing these days.” he stretched casually, sitting down on the kitchen counter behind you. You smiled to yourself, secretly liking how the words ‘our thing’ sounded coming from him.

“And I’d like my drink with sugar please, not salt” You could feel him trying to control his laughter behind you as you rolled your eyes.

A few days back you had told Jungkook about how you were sick of eating unhealthy outside food, and that it was high time you started making food at home. Even though you were a really, really bad cook, a salad was one thing you were confident you couldn't mess up. Until the other day, you offered Jungkook your newly tried out recipe only for him to spit it out because you seasoned it with not salt and pepper, but sugar and pepper.

“Never going to let me forget that are you?” you sighed turning, to find him playfully smirking at you.

“Never.”

“Oh get out Jungkook.”

“How nice.” he fake pouted adorably. “I wake up so early in the morning for you, reach the office by 6 to find you missing, go mad calling you a billion times to get connected to that rotten voicemail, rush all the way to your house in this pouring rain and sit here freezing in these clothes. All this to be asked to get out?”

You shook your head exasperatedly at his dramatic antics. But it was true though. He was probably freezing in the wet clothes he had barely squeezed the water out of. But you also had nothing to offer him to change into. Life would have been so much easier if guys could also wear girl’s clothes too.

“Unfortunately everything in my house you will find is too feminine for your taste. I would’ve offered you clothes to change into otherwise. You are probably going to catch a cold in these.”

“Oh no I have my own clothes. I carry a spare set of clothes all the time because you know, I box.” he said pointing to the bag he kept on your table. “ but those are probably wet too cause the bag unfortunately isn't waterproof”

“Why didn't you say so before?” you walked up to your dining table and fished out the damp clothes from his bag. “10 minutes in that”  you said pointing to the most expensive second hand appliance in your house at the corner of the kitchen, a washer-dryer. “and you should be able to change into these.” you waved his spare set at him.

Jungkook let out an ah of realization and then without giving you even a slight warning, he reached out behind his head, grabbing the material of his shirt in his hands and in a swift motion pulled it over his head, stripping out of it.

“Take this as well then.”

He held it out to you like it was the most normal thing in the world to do while you struggled to keep your thoughts straight. You could feel every cell in your body coaxing you to run your eyes over his body and you gave in to it. Oh he was so perfect. Perfectly muscular, tanned just the right amount, his 6 packs slightly glistening with the wetness of the rain, causing an unknown heat to pool inside you. Jungkook noticed your inability to move towards him and cocked his head to the side with this eyebrows arched,

“Like what you see?”

yes Yes YES  “ Oh you wish.” you stuck your tongue out at him as you walked straight past him, taking his shirt, not really catching what he muttered in response. You dumped the pile into the dryer and switched it on, when you heard a chatter of teeth behind you.

“It's colder without a shirt.” said Jungkook embarrassed, rubbing his hands together, his manly appearance crumbling before the cold. You laughed at him and turned back to the hot chocolate on your stove. His clothes would dry in a couple of minutes, so you had little time left to tease him around before he could regain his composure. You thought of something to say to annoy him, when he spoke instead of you,

“What's this, an apron?”

Your eyes widening, you turned around in lightening speed. Oh shit no, not the apron.

“Jungkook put that down.” you said a little too quickly.

“Why? This is probably the only clothing that is available in this house that I can wear to cover my modesty.”

He began opening the folds and you tensed. If Jungkook saw that DIY apron of yours, he’d never let you live a moment without laughing at you about it and you didn't need more reasons to die of shame. You walked up to him trying to reach the apron which he quickly held above his head.

“What is-”

“Jungkook your clothes will be dry in a while, try and bear with the cold for a few minutes. And give me back my apron!”

He held it higher as you attempted to reach for it, tiptoeing, leaning against his bare upper body a little, unbothered. You just wanted the apron back. He was already taller than you by a few inches, and sitting on the kitchen counter was also in his favor.

“Jungkook give it back please.” you struggled as he didn't give in to your pleading, even resorting to jumping a little to try and grab the material.

“wow wow calm down y/n.” he said looking surprised at you who was standing between his legs, one hand on the wet jeans of his thigh to balanced yourself, and the other constantly trying to grab his hand and pull it down. Suddenly a very evil smirk formed across his face. “Now I definitely need to see this.”  he whispered in your ear, leaning in.

“Jungkook no-”

He shut you up with a swift motion, trapping you in his enclosure  by locking his legs around you, preventing you from moving too much as you squirmed in his grip in vain. Within seconds he had managed to open the folds of the apron to take a good look at it and as he read the flimsy words you painted on it out loud, you let your hand drop to his shoulders and looked down, closing your eyes in shame.

“Kiss the cook?”

That's it. Now he was going to either burst out laughing at your childishness or give you his trademark teasing smirk along with an annoyingly smart comment. You waited for it.....but you heard nothing.

Slowing opened your eyes a little and raised your head, eyes first falling on his toned chest, only just realizing the dangerous proximity between the you two. You dragged your vision up to meet his eyes and one look at his face and you felt your stomach twist into knots. His expression was dark, humor gone from his eyes, replaced by a strange look you had never seen on him before.

The apron dropped to the floor freeing his hand which drifted to your waist pulling you closer, getting rid of the barely present decent gap between your bodies and he swooped down tilting his head, pressing his lips onto yours ever so gently. So gently you doubted if he was even touching you. Involuntarily, you felt your fingers tighten their grip on him,, and he gasped, quickly pulling away. Within seconds you lost his hot and cold touch, as he leaned back, his entire body losing contact with yours. Hands running through his hair, he bit his lip nervously, a look of shame forming on his face

“Y/n I didn't mean to....I swear I didn’t-”

After you felt what his lips could do to you, you didn’t want him to use them to talk. You reached for him this time, rising on your toes to leave a peck on his lips, reclaiming the lost warmth between you two. That was all Jungkook needed.

With a swift motion he slid down from the counter, gripped your thighs to wrap them around him as he turned and lifted you onto the platform, switching places with you in seconds.

“Y/N....” he whispered softly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Your heart fluttered at his voice. Never before had your name ever felt so wonderful.

He brushed the strands of your hair that escaped your ponytail and were falling onto your face, behind your ear, and ran his thumb across your lips which were aching for him. His eyes were looking in to yours telling you how long he had been waiting for this and how badly he wanted this, questioning you if you wanted it too. You wrapped your arms around his neck urging him. He was making you wait and you could hardly bear it. You wanted his lips, You wanted his kisses. You wanted him.

He raised his head swiftly, giving you exactly that, crashing his lips onto yours but this time there was nothing innocent or gentle about it. It was hot, fiery, passionate and demanding, seducing your senses, making you see new sounds and taste new colors.

His hands left your face ventured down the curves of your body, exploring you, unraveling the frail threads of your sanity. He left your mouth, earning a desperate whimper from you, as he left soft kiss across your jaw moving down to your neck. Your fingers played with the soft ends of his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging it softly, making him groan against your soft skin. You felt fire. Fire burning your very insides out, it's smoke clouding your judgement, it's heat making you melt.

Unhooking himself from the curve of you neck, he took your mouth back in his, wanting the feel of your every breath, darting his tongue across your parted lips, running his fingers up and down your spine, causing your body to flush against his bare chest from the heat. You didn’t know till then, that desire could be this intoxicating.

Lost in the pleasure of each other’s bodies, you didn't care that the chocolate on the stove probably evaporated on the heat by now, or that the dryer that was beeping, indicating it had done its work, or that the window was open and the people living across could see the way your bodies fitted against each others. You didn't stop to take a breath - groans and whimpers filling the air. Didn't stop for the sake of time - the clock laughing at you, ticking away. You didn't stop for anything.

Until his fingers reached the hem of your sweater, slowly dragging it up your body and you felt a familiar tingle under you skin.

You jerked back in realization, breaking away from him, your breath a little shaky, mind working fast.

No no no. You couldn't do this.

Not here, not now. You couldn't risk him seeing anything that would scare him away. You wanted him, so badly. So, so badly and you didn't want to lose him over something that wasn’t in your control, over something that wasn't your choice. The writing's on your skin weren't your choice.

Jungkook looked like you just slapped him on the face. He took a step back confused at your sudden withdrawal. He thought it was happening with your consent. He thought you wanted this too. You slid off the counter.

“Jungkook I -”

“I thought you wanted…” He trailed off searching your eyes desperately for an explanation.

“I do Jungkook I really do. More than anything right now. But -”

You searched for the right words, the right excuse to give him to cover up your insecurities.

“Not here, not now, not like this. We have things to do Jungkook. A presentation to run through, a client to meet, I already put us behind schedule by waking up late and dragging you all the way here. Right now is maybe not the best time for this..”

He tensed further at your words, not quite believing your reasons. “Did it happen too soon for you? Did I go too far-.”

You took his concerned face in your hands, placing a kiss on his lips once more to clear his misunderstanding. This time you felt him relax at your touch, his hand impulsively reaching to rest on your waist.

“No you didn’t...Its only because I’m worried about work, nothing else. and trust me when I say this.” you added at his tensed expression. “If you want to go far,” wrapping your arms around his neck loosely, you tiptoed whispering into his ear. “I want to go further.”

You broke away from him, biting your lip not so innocently, earning a now familiar dark expression. It should’ve surprised you that the always cheerful, coy and friendly Jeon Jungkook was exhibiting such a desire, but you didn’t care, because you were the one to blame for whatever he turned into and you were liking it.

You reached out for the clothes in the dryer and threw them to him, pointing to the washroom. When you turned to the nearly burnt chocolate on the stove, you felt his chest pressing behind you, his nose brush against your hair, his warm breath on your neck, as he whispered softer in your ear,

“Be careful about what you wish baby.” You knew he had a smirk on his face without even seeing it. “ Further may not be a place where I will hold myself back this way. ”

And he pulled away from you walking to the washroom, shutting the door behind him. You looked at him as he left, trying to ignore the heat pooling inside you again.

Bringing out two mugs, you poured the chocolate into them, when you felt the tingle you had forgotten all about, alert you again. Pushing up your sleeve, your eyebrows furrowed at the message.

Why the hell are you so turned on?

So what happened in the kitchen, stayed in the kitchen.

After Jungkook came out of the washroom in his dry clothes, his expression was his usual cheerful one, every last trace of the lust that was filled in his eyes gone. The both of you then went over the presentation in your house like you usually did, bickering a little, every now and then. He made faces at your scorched up drink but he drank it up because he knew he was to blame. You both argued over whether to order Chinese or Mexican and somehow settled for Thai. Everything happened so normally, it was like those 10 minutes of shameless making out didn’t even happen.

It was because he took your word for it, when you said you stopped because they had more important things to do, and he knew how serious you were when it came to work. It was making you guilty because he didn’t know that wasn’t the real reason. He didn’t know that at that moment you were willing to throw aside everything to lose yourself in what was happening. He didn’t know about what was hidden under your skin and he didn’t need to know either.

Jungkook was a simple guy. He loved his ordinary life, his small group of friends, his not-to-so-great work place. He loved the normalcy in it. As much as you wanted to tell him about you, you knew it would frighten him and you didn’t want to lose whatever your relationship with him was. You were starting to like how well he fitted in the backdrop of your simple house. You loved how natural he looked in the environment you were familiar with, almost becoming one of the few things you allowed yourself to feel comfortable around. You wanted him to stay for as long as possible.

Even though both of your maximum attention was on work, you noticed the two of you couldn’t help but steal small moments for yourselves. Catching Jungkook checking you out as leaned across the table to grab something, the momentary brush of your hands from time to time, watching the way his face made such an attractive expression when he concentrated on something - all of that was going on too. But by 4 o’clock, you were completely ready, and the two of you set off to the clients house.

It was almost 5 now and you had been sitting at the back of Jungkook’s bike for nearly an hour, your hands wrapped around his waist, head leaning against his strong back. You were tired. Very tired. It was nearly impossible to sleep at night these days. Your dreams got longer, more frightening, more frequent now. It didn't help that V didn't know about them any more. Normally he was there every time you woke up from a dream, comforting you through his words. Now that he couldn’t read your thoughts anymore he had no idea, and you didn't feel like telling him either.

Along with the connection of the mind that you had lost with him, something else snapped between you two as well. As far as V was concerned, it was always a roller coaster of emotions - happiness, sadness, fear, pain, anger - but for the first time, you felt a repulsion towards him. You didn't feel like sharing anything with him anymore. You didn't want to know anything about him anymore. You didn't talk to him much anymore.

Ever since the day he told you he was cursed, something inside you shattered. You weren't expecting it. As much as you had a feeling that V couldn't have been an ordinary person, someone cursed was not who you had imagined. You thought he would be some sort of a guardian angel or a fairy godmother, but never a cursed being. You didn't even know what the curse was or why he was cursed, and you didn't want to either. You just wanted to run as far away from him as possible.

But it was getting harder.

The other day when you felt him laugh, when you could tell he was nervous about talking to you, it wasn't your imagination. It happened. And it happened again. Sometimes deep down inside you, even when you weren’t talking to him, you knew when he felt angry, when he felt upset and even when he was scared. You didn’t know how but you just knew it. And even though he couldn’t read your mind anymore, it seemed like he could still sense your strongest emotions. Like how he knew how you felt with Jungkook earlier. This new kind of connection should have interested you, tempted you to know more. Yet you  wanted to run away.

Because running away is always easier than facing reality.

You closed your eyes for a what you thought was a minute, throwing your thoughts outside your head, feeling the wind on your face. Enough. You didn't want to think about it anymore.

“Hey Y/N?”

Jungkook’s soft voice drifted towards you. “Are you asleep?”

You stirred awake, unlocking your hands from around him, feeling oddly stiff from your journey to the city outskirts. The sky around you was splashed with shades of a beautiful orange, telling you the sun would set soon.

“I think we reached.” Jungkook looked at you over his shoulder slightly turning back. Getting down from the bike you stretched, cracking your joints and he held you by the wrist.

“Hey if you are not feeling up to it, we can always ask for more time and come back later.”

“No, no, Jungkook I'm fine. It just felt nice sitting there, so I sort of fell asleep.”

Jungkook smiled, letting you go, and got off his bike. You looked at the giant mansion that loomed before you and gulped. When you had heard about the luxurious three story house, you thought it would look like a pretty castle that walked out of a Disney movie.

Presently you were at the gate of a manor that was proudly standing at the edge of a pointed cliff, it’s back facing the sea whose waves you could hear crashing into the rocks. It was centered in a not-so-well manicured lawn, that was covered with growing withered bushes and shrubs, a seating area situated in the corner. The house though was a masterpiece, made of pale grey nascent stone walls covered by the moss and ivy, the only thing that seemed alive in the radar of a kilometer around the house which was surrounded by dark barren woods. There were no houses around, and from Jungkook’s expression it was evident that this was the only one he had spotted in miles.

It was a beautiful house no doubt, but a sad beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made your heart ache for some unknown reason. But who would live here and why they would live so far away from civilization was what you wanted to know.

“Let's go.” Jungkook said parking his bike by the gate, as the two of you walked silently on the stone path the lead to the house, taking in your surroundings.  The driveway was grandiose, sweeping into a wide circle in front of the dwelling with an ornate fountain in the center, whose soft gurgling was merging with the melodic waves of the sea.

An old man, wearing a suit that was screaming elegance walked out, opening the large oak doors, sheltered under a wide porch supported by stone pillars, hiding the beauty of the manor. Of course. You could hardly expect someone as young as you to own a house like this. It had to be some sort of ancient, antique man, with pockets stuffed with money from half a dozen businesses around the world.

“Welcome to Affluēns.” He smiled warmly. “Please, come inside”

Jungkook and you looked at each other taking a deep breath, as he squeezed your hand reassuringly and the two of you stepped in. It was at that moment you realized that the exterior of the house had completely fooled you.

Inside everything was dripping with modern luxury -  gleaming white marble floors, elegant velvet couches, chandeliers made of hundreds of pieces of glass on the ceiling. The stairs twisting up from the corner of the room was made of chic black tiles. Soft silky material draped the french windows like a veneer between the house and the outside world. It was breath taking, a dream come true for youngsters like you.

You looked at Jungkook wanting to ask him why someone would want to get rid of all of this luxurious setting, that too for a vintage look, but he was looking intently at something else. You followed his vision to see him staring at the copper statue in the center of the foyer. It was odd shapes and sizes of reddish brown copper sheets twisted and turned almost looking like....fire? It seemed to hold some significance for the old owner. After all it was the only thing that seemed out of place in the modern setting.

“Please take a seat.” said the old man pointing to the sofas. Jungkook smiled professionally and held out his hand. “ Thank you sir. I’m Jungkook and this is Y/n. You must be Mr.-”

“Oh no I’m not the owner, merely a butler at your service.” You could feel your eyebrows raise in awe. If the butler himself was dressed so well, you could hardly imagine what the owner would be dressed like.

“My master will see you in a while. Please make yourself comfortable” he bowed and disappeared into the house. Jungkook and you sat down not saying a word, still taking in the beauty of the house that you were unfortunately here to take down. But across the living room there was something that caught your eye.

A wall, a single empty wall, carved with oddly familiar designs. Random, meaningless designs - lines, curves, spirals - but familiar ones. They sort of spoke to you, a strange something you couldn't quite comprehend. You felt like you knew them, but didn’t know how.

The sound of footsteps getting louder, gained your attention and the both of you got up, smoothing the creases on your clothes, making yourself look presentable to the figure that emerged from the shadows. Your eyes first fell on his feet, which were covered in black pointed shoes, the edge of a long black coat which matching his equally blank pant was reaching to his knees. His upper body covered by a dark red shirt that was decorated with a fancy collar around his neck and his face -

It was the boy. The boy at the cafe.

There was a fleeting look of recognition in his eyes, but it was gone so fast, you doubted if you imagined it. The impish looking boy cleared his throat and gestured with his arms wide open.

“Welcome home.”

[meraenthusiast]

The ONE Thing Summary – Do You Know Your ONE Thing?

The ONE Thing Summary

I remember first reading The ONE Thing by Gary Keller and Jay Papasan shortly after it was released in 2012.

Back then, I didn’t know what my one thing was.

Recently after watching Jay Papsan’s Wealth Building With The ONE Thing & Millionaire Series talk he gave at Google (see video below), it inspired me to take it off the bookshelf for another read.

Now, after rereading it eight years later, it’s become much clearer what I should be focusing on and what I should be avoiding.

Since I first read it, my life has become much busier with distractions as I’m sure yours has too.

I’m constantly bombarded with emails, texts and calls that keep me from doing my most important work. Let’s also not forget about work, family and staying healthy. All these demands take a toll.

If you’re a frequent reader of this blog, you know that I’m passionate about teaching others how to build streams of passive income to reach FIRE and fatFIRE quicker to stop trading time for money.

This is also a major personal goal of mine too.

But the challenge I face (and you might too) is that it’s NOT the only goal. I set other types of goals both personally and for my family. So if I make progress on one goal, many times it means losing progress on another.

In my case, I can choose to work toward any number of goals today, but the truth is that progress on some goals means none or even potentially negative progress on others.

It’s now become clear that I need help with a method of prioritizing goals which is why I’m so glad that I reread the book.

Here’s The ONE Thing Summary that will also help you achieve what you’re striving for.

Let’s get going…

The ONE Thing Summary

Here’s Sam Davies’ The ONE Thing Summary in three sentences:

The ONE Thing is the best approach to getting what you want.

Success is a result of narrowing your concentration to one thing.

Success is built sequentially, one thing at a time.

Who this book is for

This book is for anyone:

That feels as if they have too much on their plate

Constantly trying to do too many things at once

Hoping to become more productive

I guess this book is for me as I fit all categories.

Go Small

The author, Gary Keller, talked about in areas where he gained success, he focused his concentration to one thing.

He claimed that, “When you want the absolute best chance to succeed at anything you want, your approach should always be the same. Go small.”

This concept really hit home with me as I have to constantly remind myself to ignore all the things I could be doing and only focus on what I should be doing.

So instead of focusing on 10-20 things, go small and focus on one.

The Domino Effect

My kids and I loved this story both in the book and in the video above.

In our The ONE Thing summary, the authors discussed something called the “domino effect.”

They mentioned a study performed by a physicist that found if someone pushed over a domino, it then can knock over another one that’s 50% bigger.

So if you start with knocking over a 2 inch domino then:

the 10th domino would be as tall as Peyton Manning

the 18th domino would be the size of the Tower of Pisa

the 23rd the size of the Eifel Tower

the 31st taller than Mount Everest

the 57th would nearly get you all the way to the moon

Check out this illustration from the book via NJLifehacks.com:

Here’s a video testing the domino effect theory:

Most people know how to knock over dominos. You line them up and tip over the first one which starts a reaction knocking over one at a time.

But in the real world, things aren’t so straight forward. I don’t know about you, but life hasn’t lined everything up to tell me where I should start.

In the book, we come to realize that highly successful people know that each day, they must line up their priorities in order, which means knocking over that lead domino first until it falls.

They know that extraordinary success is sequential, not simultaneous. You do the right thing and then you do the next right thing and over time it begins to add up.

It’s all about lining up the domino, giving it all of our attention, knocking it over, and then lining up the next domino. One thing at a time.

Over a long enough time period, big things will happen.

Success Leaves Clues

Reminiscing back to dental school, I thought I could succeed alone. I was wrong. In The ONE Thing, we learn that no one succeeds alone.

We each have passion and skills, but you’ll see extraordinary successful people with ONE intense emotion or one learned ability that shines through, defining them or driving them more than anything else.

Courtesy of NYtimes.com

This makes me think of Michael Jordan. Not only was he one of the greatest basketball players ever to play the game, his drive and passion always showed through while playing.

The Lies

The book discusses six lies that mislead and derail us.

They are:

The Six Lies Between You and Success   

Everything Matters Equally

Multitasking

A Disciplined Life

Willpower Is Always on Will-Call

A Balanced Life

Big Is Bad

#1 Everything matters equally

My grandmother used to say, “Son, make good decisions.”

But when our lives are defined by our decisions, the important question becomes, How do we make good ones?

Also, the older I get, the more it seems must get done. I’m overbooked, overextended and over committed.

When everything feels urgent and important, everything seems EQUAL.

The problem with that is that if you constantly split your attention, you’re never able to bring intense focus to a single thing that will bring success.

Many of us (myself included) use a to-do list. Keller recommends using a “success” list instead.

To-do lists are long where as success lists are short. One pulls you in all directions; the other aims you in a SPECIFIC direction.

If your to-do list contains everything, then it’s probably taking you everywhere but where you really want to go.

So what should we do?

The answer is simple, enter the 80/20 Principle

80/20 Principle

You’ve probably heard of the Pareto Principle (AKA 80/20 rule). It states that 80% of your results come from only 20% of your efforts.

If that’s the case then we should focus on the few things that truly matter. After doing that, we can then take those 20% again and narrow it down even further. So ultimately, we only have one domino to focus on…then we start off by knocking it over.

Here’s an example from the The ONE Thing on how to convert a to-do list into a success list:

#2 Multitasking

This chapter in the book made a big impact on how I now go about getting things done. I used to be big on multitasking as it always seemed to be a good idea on the surface.

But when you try to do two (or more) things at once, you either can’t or won’t do either well.

It’s not that we have too little time to do all the things we need to do, it’s that we feel the need to do too many things in the time we have.

Instead, we should avoid multitasking as much possible and focus on the one task that’s most important.

Multitasking all includes any other types of distractions such as cell phones. For instance, if you’re at your desk doing work with notifications coming in left and right, you’re basically multitasking waiting to check them as they pop up.

I get more work done when I completely power down my cell phone instead of just putting it on silent.

When I’m focusing on performing my ONE thing, I want a distraction-free environment.

#3 A Disciplined Life

We’ve all been told at some point in our life that we have to be super-disciplined in order to be successful.

The ONE Thing says differently. The truth is we don’t need any more disciple than we already have. We just need to direct and manage it a little better.

Success is about doing the right thing, not about doing everything right.

The trick to success is to choose the right habit and bring just enough discipline to establish it.

When you do the right thing, it can liberate you from having to monitor everything.

#4 Willpower Is Always on Will-Call

I liked the way the author described willpower in the book. He compared it to something like a cell phone that has a rechargeable battery.

What happens to your phone’s battery life throughout the day? If you charge it overnight then it starts off with a full charge, right?

But as it’s being used, slowly the juice starts to deplete until either it’s recharged again or it powers off.

Willpower is no different. Once it’s out of juice, it too needs recharging. You can’t always have 100% willpower.

Here’s a perfect example: I love sweets. Whenever I go to a party for an extended period of time, I notice at first, my willpower is strong.

But the longer I stay, the harder it is to not dig into those darn chocolate chip cookies!

Because your willpower, like a rechargeable battery, decreases throughout the day, you should focus using your willpower on the things that are the most important things in your life.

What’s the absolute most important thing you need to do today to move forward on the things you want to achieve in life? Use your willpower to accomplish that.

#5 A Balanced Life

We routinely hear that we should have a stable work/life balance but the authors disagree.

They recommend a better approach: counterbalance

After you give intense focus to the important area of your life for a set period of time, you should then counterbalance it and put other areas front and center for a while.

An example of this comes from those of us with kids still at home. For me, my focus shifts to more family time/vacations and coaching them in the summer when they’re out of school.

Because of this, I’ll have a major focus of researching/writing articles in the spring to get ready for the summer months. This is my counterbalance.

#6 Big Is Bad

When people set really BIG goals, many times they give up as it usually takes a tremendous amount of time and energy to achieve them.

The authors recommend looking at the things achieved in life as a rectangle. The bigger the area of the rectangle, the bigger the achievement.

They stated that the dimensions of the rectangle are determined by two factors:

thinking/planning

effort

We use both of these when trying to accomplish goals and if you put in equal amounts of both, you can expect to accomplish a larger goal with less effort.

Do you remember what Abraham Lincoln told someone regarding chopping down a tree?

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.” – Abraham Lincoln

The Focusing Question

After reading countless numbers of books on how to better raise our kids, my wife and I noticed a recurring solution, “ask questions“.

One of the top ways to influence someone is in fact to “ask questions”.

Voltaire once wrote, “Judge a man by his questions rather than his answers.”

Dr. Robert Cialdini has a fantastic book, “Influence The Psychology of Persuasion“. If you haven’t read it, do so soon. It will help you in all aspects of your life.

One of the most empowering moments of Keller’s life came when he realized that life is a question and how we live it is our answer.

Because of this, he recommended using a key focusing question before you decide on doing something during the day that you may or may not think is important. Get it? It seems that they are wanting you to ask YOURSELF a question so you can in turn influence yourself.

That question is:

What’s the ONE thing I can do such that by doing it everything else becomes easier or unnecessary?

Once you come up with an answer then that’s what you should be focusing on.

It forces you:

to prioritize

focus on one thing

be specific

And by doing this, it then directs you to take action.

“How we phrase the questions we ask ourselves determines the answers that eventually become our life.”

Here’s a few examples using The Focusing Question:

For your financial life:

What’s the ONE Thing I can do to increase my net worth… ?

What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my investment cash flow… ?

What’s the ONE Thing I can do to eliminate my debt… ?

For your spiritual life:

What’s the ONE Thing I can do to help others… ?

What’s the ONE Thing I can do to improve my relationship with God… ?

Let’s shift The ONE Thing Summary to successful habits…

The Success Habit

Now that we’ve learned about the Focusing Question, it’s not too hard to guess what the success habit is….using that focusing question for every area of your life in order to achieve BIG results.

Many readers of this site come to me looking for ways to achieve financial independence.

After they sign up for the Passive Investors Circle, I have a call with them to discuss their goals.

Many times they have multiple ones and we focus on narrowing them down to one or two.

Then, I instruct them to get into the “success habit” of asking themselves the focusing question:

“What’s the ONE thing I can do to move myself toward financial independence such that by doing it everything else becomes easier or unnecessary?”

The Four Thieves Of Productivity

In our The One Thing Summary, we learn about the four thieves of productivity that you should avoid.

Inability to Say “No”

Fear of Chaos

Poor Health Habits

Environment Doesn’t Support Your Goals

Inability to Say “No”

I’m sure you know someone that can never tell someone “no”. My wife is one of those people. Looking back, I used to be that person too until kids, work and other activities have taken over my life.

If I don’t set boundaries and tell others “no”, I won’t be able to connect with my ONE Thing.

Too many people are afraid of hurting others feelings by telling them “no”. If that’s you, think about coming up with a way to say it in a way that you’re comfortable with.

Fear of Chaos

If you’re in a relationship, have kids and a job, then your life can be chaotic at times. Trust me I know, it’s normal.

Things aren’t always going to go in our favor. Stuff happens. That’s okay.

But it doesn’t mean you should give up on your ONE Thing. Over time, you’ll learn how to deal with it so it doesn’t control you.

Poor Health Habits

Our pastor once told the story of a 95-year old multi-millionaire that asked a college student to trade places with him. He told him that he’d have all the money that he’d ever need.

The young man declined saying, “What does it matter to have money if I can’t get out of bed and enjoy it?”

When’s the last time you were sick? Not fun, right?

If you’re not healthy then you won’t be productive.

Your health and your success depend on each other to survive and thrive.

The authors recommend that we:

Exercise

Medidate/pray

Focus on being content with what we have

Enjoy family/friends

Environment Doesn’t Support Your Goals

An article from Forbes magazine sums it up best, “Surrounding Yourself With The Right People Changes Everything.”

Oprah tells us, “Surround yourself only with people who are going to lift you higher.”

If you’re around negative people that constantly shoot you and your ideas down, it’s going to be next to impossible to achieve your ONE Thing.

The Three Commitments

As we close out The ONE Thing summary, the author recommends that we commit to three things to make all of this work:

Follow the Path of Mastery

Move from “E” to “P”

Live the Accountability Cycle

Follow the Path of Mastery

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “Life’s a marathon and not a sprint. Enjoy the journey along the way to your destination.”

Often, the “one thing” is really about building up a particular skill to a high level through deliberate practice.

As we try to achieve that big specific thing we’re aiming for, we should be building mastery of particular skills along the way. That’s part of the journey.

Move from “E” to “P”

Keller teaches us that most people have an Entrepreneurial “E” mindset. These people typically aim for being “good enough.”

Instead, he recommends, that we should aim for becoming as skilled at something as you can be, which he calls “P” or “purposeful.”

It’s a constant commitment to growing, building skill, and improving, even when you’re already “good enough” to achieve a low level of success. Lifelong learning and deliberate practice are the tools.

Live the Accountability Cycle

Too many people suffer from “exuse-itis.” If you’re not where you want to be in life, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.

Ultimately your success comes down to…..YOU.

There’ll always be obstacles and unexpected events.

Don’t let your environment control you, control the environment.

There’s too many people that point fingers and blame others but never look in the mirror to take ownership of their own lives. Once you take responsibility, you’re in control of your destiny.

The ONE Thing Summary – Final Thoughts

Whether you know what your ONE Thing is or not, reading this book will help you figure out what you really want out of life and how to achieve it.

I realized after re-reading this book a second time, I needed to focus on blocking out my time, and eliminating distractions that were keeping me from doing my ONE Thing daily.

What really helped me was relearning the focusing question which is something I’m using more at work and with my personal life.

This question is a powerful director of keeping me focused on my ONE Thing and avoided all those other little pesky things that pop up during the day that I used to “think” needed to be done.

The post The ONE Thing Summary – Do You Know Your ONE Thing? appeared first on Debt Free Dr..

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[zacknano17]

Day 22: words 42,030 - 44,047

In which, Magnus gets very, very angry, and shit gets very, very real.

“Hm.” Kravitz studies the wall for a moment.  “I can create a portal through the wall, but only I could go through it.  Salvatore.  Is there any other entrance?”

“I don't know.  I can't say as I've ever spent any time down here,” Salvatore replies.

“The best we can do is to go outside and see if there are any windows in this corner,” Magnus says.  “But even if there are, I'm not sure me or Salvatore here would be able to fit through them.”

“That may be the best you can do, but that ain't the best ol' Merle can do,” Merle says smugly, walking up to the wall.  He presses his hands to the stone. “I cast stone shape.”

Merle's magic has sort of a green and white shine to it, probably due to his patron deity being of the nature domain.  The light radiates from his hands and from the X-treme Teen Bible still attached to his belt, spreading out from his fingers and growing in an oblong circle on the wall.  The stone melts away, peeling back from the light, layer after layer, until the spell ends and the light fades.  There is a neat hole in the wall now, all the way through into the hidden room.

“You're welcome,” Merle says smugly, ushering Magnus within.

“You could have at least made it a little taller,” Magnus grumbles, gesturing at the very Merle-sized hole.

“You could have tried bein' a little shorter too.”

Magnus ducks through the hole and steps through, pulling Rail Splitter off his back as he goes. On the other side of the hole is a room.  It's smaller than the room he has just exited, but it looks fairly large, probably due to the fact that it is mostly empty.  Shoved in the corner is a sturdy wooden table with short legs, likely designed for a halfling, with heavy metal cuffs on it.  There was a similar one in the basement of Wedding Wonders.

Next to the table, there is a sort of pedestal type of furniture with an open book on top of it.  The book has been completely blackened, with the pages crumbling to ash, and the pedestal is charred on the top where the book is resting.

Across the room from the table there is a simple small desk.  On it rest a few papers and books, and, far more notably, Taako's umbra staff, which is coincidentally pointed right at the pedestal.  Next to the desk there is a bookshelf with a number of ancient tomes crammed into it.

There are two people in this room.  Rebekah is in the center of the room, holding her wand out and pointing it directly at Magnus.

Behind her, sitting on the table, is Taako.  He is alive and awake and appears to be totally fine.

And Magnus feels a relief flow through him that he didn't previously know was possible.  They have made it on time.

“Taako! You're okay!” he exclaims.

Taako doesn't answer.  He looks confused and worried and rather like he has no idea what to do.  He isn't bound or anything either, and Magnus begins to worry again.

Kravitz is the next through the hole, and he is immediately scanning the room warily, scythe in hand, for the powerful necromancer he has sensed earlier, probably.  His gaze focuses on Taako for a moment, and his head tilts to the side just a little, as though he has sensed something isn't quite right but can't put his finger on what that is. Then he keeps looking.

Merle is next, bible out in one hand and his war hammer in his other. “Somethin' seem weird to you about Taako?” he asks.

“Rebekah,” Taako finally says, in a voice that is definitely Taako's, but inflected all wrong.  “Rebekah, who are these people?  What's going on?”

Magnus' heart sinks.  For all his hope, it turns out that they are just too late.  It might be Taako's body, but it certainly isn't Taako inside.

Slowly and deliberately, he puts his shield onto his back and places his free left hand on the handle of Rail Splitter.  He has been angry before.  He had let anger consume him after the destruction of Raven's Roost's support pillar, when there had been nothing left of his home but rubble and regret.  He had been angry about Julia, about Steven, about Ms. Nerissa, the healer down the street, about Cyrus, the old metalsmith, about Rosie and her inn.  He had been so angry that nothing had mattered.

He is angry again.  He is very, very angry.

“What. The fuck.  Did you do.  To Taako,” he says, his voice low.

Rebekah narrows her eyes at him.  “Taako is gone,” she says.

Magnus doesn't wait.  He charges at her, his earlier words to Salvatore completely leaving him.  He doesn't care about saving her anymore. If he can't save his own dear friend, what's the fucking point?

Rail Splitter slams into metal as Rebekah erects a metal shield in his path to stop him or slow him down.  He kicks it right at her, shoving it forward with the bottom of his foot, but she dodges out of the way.  He swings at her again -- or, at least, he tries.

Salvatore has caught the upper part of Rail Splitter and is trying to hold it back.  He is stronger than Magnus and stops the blow, but he isn't able to wrangle the ax out of Magnus' hands.

“You said we could save her,” Salvatore hisses.

“That was before she murdered my friend,” Magnus growls.

Rebekah is backing away from them, but she stops when her back hits the wall. And then Taako -- or rather, Taako's body -- jumps in between her and Magnus.

“Stop!” he says, and Magnus...does.  There's no way he can lift a hand against Taako's body, even if it isn't really him in there.  “Stop it.  I'm sorry about your friend.  I really am.  But Rebekah didn't mean to hurt anybody.  I know her.  She wouldn't do that.”

“Rebekah's not in control anymore,” Magnus snaps.  “Get the fuck out of my way.”

A gentle soulwood hand comes up and rests on his forearm, both holding him back and offering a touch of comfort.  “Isn't there some way to get Taako back?” Merle asks.

“His body is still alive,” Kravitz says.  “So long as his soul hasn't already checked into the Astral Plane, we can still save him.  You, however,” and he looks at not-Taako, “are going to have to come with me.”

“I won't let you take him away from me again,” Rebekah says.

Her voice sounds different, deeper, multiplied over itself as though three people are speaking in unison.  It's unearthly and inhuman, very similar to Sloane's voice when the thrall of the Sash had taken over entirely.  Her eyes are glowing bright white now too, her pupils gone entirely, and the dark fissures on her face have spread now, across her forehead, over her jaw and down her neck.  A rough wind courses out of her, and Magnus shields his face from her power.

“I won't let you!  He's mine!!”

“Rebekah!?” Not-Taako is reaching for her, but the wind is getting too strong and he can't quite reach her.  He stumbles back suddenly, and giant flat stones are suddenly conjured out of thin air, floating around him like a shield.  He is mostly obscured from view and can't seem to move out of the rock shield, if his shouting is any indication.

It's about then that the ceiling peels away, split down the middle and ripped away to the edges.  The walls are consumed next, seeming to be blown away by the rush of her power.  But instead of the city of Waterdeep opening up above them and around them, they see the night sky extending out in all directions.  The stone basement floor is all that remains, and at the edges are nothing, opening up into a yawning, endless abyss.

The sky is purple and blue and black, peppered with stars in all directions, even down below the horizon created by the stone platform they're now on.

“The power to create anything -- literally anything!  It's in my hands, and I used it to bring him back!” Rebekah shouts in that same horrible voice.  “I need this power to get back Alfonso, and now...now I can finally make things right again.  I won't let you stop me.  I won't let you take it away.  It's MINE.”

“What in the nine hells is this!?” Kravitz demands.  The power has affected him too; his skin and hair are gone, leaving him skeletal once more.

“It's the Oculus,” Magnus says, finally lowering his hand from its protective gesture over his face.  “It's taken her over.  This is...uh, not good.”

“I'll say.  You think it's time to roll initiative?” Merle asks.

“I think so.”

By their very nature and due to the extremely complicated ritual used to create them in the first place, liches are very intelligent.  There is little way around it; in order to become a lich, one must understand the ritual.  And to understand the ritual, one must be very smart and very talented.  That is one of the reasons they're such a pain in the ass.

But even liches had a limit to their knowledge.  Not many knew the true consequences of their actions, other than knowing they would earn the wrath of the Raven Queen.  They may have heard of the Eternal Stockade, but they have no idea what the words truly mean.

Some knew to avoid the Queen's bounty hunters.  Some learned very quickly.

Most were very arrogant and thought that they could stand a chance against the Queen and her minions.  Most would stop and fight, if they were caught.

But none of them have ever been able to learn to sense a Reaper.  And very few have been able to successfully evade capture, once they are located and identified, for more than a few years, maybe a decade or two.

The lich Kravitz has spent the past decade chasing, on and off, has somehow figured out how to detect the presence of a Reaper and has usually cleared out by the time Kravitz actually arrives to haul his ass to the Raven Queen's tribunal.  He never stays to fight.  It drives Kravitz absolutely batty.

The worst part is that the lich is called Bluejeans. The slippery fuck couldn't even be bothered to find himself a decent title.

Kravitz hates him.

He is reasonably sure that the bearer of the necromantic energy he had felt in this basement earlier is that of Barry Fucking Bluejeans, but the assumption is based mostly off of the fact that, yet again, Kravitz has appeared on the scene of some big time necromancy, and the lich is gone.

Of course, a moment later, everything else is gone too.  The walls, the ceiling, the ground, save for the bit they're standing on...

Kravitz is aware of the Grand Relics and how they had quite suddenly appeared in the world about twelve years or so ago and nearly ripped it apart. There had been talk around the Celestial Plane about them, but no one took responsibility for them or really knew what to do with them. Then the Bureau of Balance popped into existence, and the Relics had gone mostly dormant for a long while.

The Relics are known to have unfathomable amounts of power, from whatever source Kravitz does not know.  But knowing these things are incredibly powerful and actually experiencing what that power is capable of are two very different things.

Quite possibly the strangest part about it are the looks of grim determination on Magnus' and Merle's faces.  These are men who have experienced this before, multiple times.  Salvatore looks properly terrified, and even the poor elf with half a soul looks like he would rather be anywhere but here.  Kravitz himself has an easy exit if he needs it, but he is also rather resistant to permanent damage.