#admittedly i went a bit loose with the theme here

[pitchblackespresso]

Well-studied

For Zelink Week 2024 Day 3: Blooming

@zelinkcommunity

Comics master post

[eveningepiphany]

only would happen to us | H.S oneshot

summary: you and harry just got stuck up on the tower bridge in london and it’s clear sometimes feelings are just too hard to ignore

warnings: smut! bandmate harry, fluff, heights, unplanned confession, making out, trying to hide it from everyone, REALLY CUTE CAR SCENE, tension, fingering, dirty talk, vague reference to choking, protected p in v sec, talk of unprotected sex, frat boy harry just being too hot.

a/n: this is a longer smutshot with a bit of plot, took me MONTHS of coming back and forth from this draft, but it’s so so cute I think you’re gonna love these two!

not heavily edited, may be some typos, just want to post it so bad and its 2am HAHA

———

A deep, almost shaky exhale passes through your lungs and out past your lips. Your own numb hands coming to your waist underneath the thick knitted sweater that hung baggy over your frame, meeting the tight harness fitted over your jeans. It was so cold outside that with each breath out, there was a pale cloud that got puffed out with it. The kind you’d see on a crisp morning while walking to school as a kid, and pretend you were exhaling a long drag of a cigarette.

It’s weird to see something such as the air from deep in your lungs in a way you never normally do. Something that is typically invisible, in the exact right conditions, can be suddenly tangible. The air you exhale always there, regardless of whether you can see it or not. But on a night like tonight it’s no longer able to be ignored.

How one individual might perceive it can be starkly different to another. What is perhaps an annoying reminder of the cold to one person— is a thrilling reminder of their state of aliveness to another.

You believe in the latter. Despite it highlighting how freezing cold you feel, it makes your heart sing. Right now, you’re alive, living in this very moment. Your breath is the very proof that you’re here, experiencing something few other people understand.

The mosaic of London city lights can be seen all around you, reflecting on the swell of water that consumes the far drop below your feet.

Gratitude floats through your mind at the tight harness wrapped around your middle, attaching to the safety line behind you. Otherwise just looking down would make you loose your balance, and that's not a fall you want to experience.

Filming music videos, you’ve learnt, is no joke. Considering you’re 200 feet in the sky above the river Thames on London’s most famous bridge.

“M’pretty sure I’ve just frozen my balls off.” Louis shivers out, earning a snort from Liam who has his hands shoved under his arms— in attempt to warm them up— beside him.

The camera crew have filmed the shots planned, and a few extras for behind the scenes footage, but everything that needed to be taken has now been ticked off, and the rest of the team are beginning to get ready for the band to come back down.

“And here i was just thinking how surreal it is to be up here,” You sigh out with sarcastic whimsy, “Louis sure knows how to put it into words…”

Niall pipes in, “Best view in the whole city and Louis is talking about his junk.”

Everyone up there let’s out a belly laugh at Niall’s quip. It’s an oddly touching moment. Just the six of you feeling like you’re on top of the world, laughing at a joke about Louis dick.

A very fitting theme for a bunch of still-teenagers, you think to yourself. Heartwarming in its own odd way that makes you smile. Eyes flitting from the skyline in front of you back to the band, attempting to take in every small detail that’s painting the wondrous view ahead of you.

You’re glad you went up first, it means you can see all their faces at once when you look to the left. The toothy grins, lit up eyes, and red, wind kissed cheeks.

Especially Harry, who beside you, looks absolutely elated to be up there. The glimmer in his eye's is possessing an emotion in your chest that's admittedly different tonight in comparison to any other.

Maybe it was just your surroundings, but you’re convinced this is the most beautiful he’s ever looked. His brown curls were tousled back from the breeze, lips flushed from the cold. The big khaki jacket cast over his broad shoulders is bundling him up, yet he was still shivering slightly.

Somehow now— even in London's coldest months—his skin still appears tan. Like if you reached out and touched it, it would thrum with the warmth of his blood. A heat you want to settle into with your entire body and soul.

Forcibly, you have to tear your gaze away from him. Reminding yourself that he is your bandmate, and one of your best friends. Not someone for you to be staring at as if there was something to be entertained.

Besides, you’ve spent months gaslighting yourself into the belief it’s simply because you work together so closely. Of course your brain is trying to tell you that there’s something there!

Hell, you’ve heard the horror stories from your girls back home. Problematic shit almost always happens when they fuck around with male colleagues at their jobs. You’ve even said to them, “Is he hot, or is it just because he’s a guy at your work?”

And while your relationship with Harry is arguably a lot more personal than just two colleagues, surely the theory still applies— you’re only so attracted to him because you both work together. That’s it…

Not at all the fact he is definitely the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen.

Shaking your head— as if the physical movement will stop the internal battle between the voices in your head, you focus your eyes back to the city. Trying to memorise this beautiful sight instead, and commit each red set of break lights, and every yellow glow of someone’s window to the mental picture you’ve taken.

You wish you could know how many people are looking at the Tower bridge right now. If they have any idea that there’s 6 idiots up the top of it. It casts a familiar, deep set of wonder over you.

Are they cooking dinner, watching tv, or staring out at the world just like you? who are they with, why are they with them?

Just the notion that all the people in that city are out there, living a life as shockingly intricate, and beautiful as your own makes your heart clench. It’s a feeling you want to hold forever.

Harry notices from next to you the look on your face. He sees this look often, he knows how deep of a thinker you are. When your lips part in the slightest bit, displaying that sense of earnest shock— and your big eyes search the scene in front of them as if it might disappear on the very next blink.

You do it at airports, in every new city you visit, and onstage too— you do it almost everywhere, come to think of it.

His own mouth slants into a warm smile, even Niall has glanced over and shared a quiet chuckle at your ability to just slip into your mind every time something unreal happens to the six of you.

“Alright— we’re gonna get you guys down one by one!” A crew member's call pulls you out of your trance. Harry is almost sad to see the captivation on your face get snapped away in an instant, making him divert his attention away from you so he doesn’t get caught staring.

Given that you were the first of them to go up, you’d be the last to be lowered down. Zayn however was the last to go up, and arguably the hardest of everyone to convince to get up here.

Despite looking like he could conquer anything, and any challenge, he is scared easily of new things. Like going on a plane for the first time, or being lifted to the top of tower bridge and held by only a harness.

“Thank god—“ he sighs a chuckle, running an anxious hand through his hair as he slowly starts to shuffle along the narrow edge you’re all standing on.

“People pay good money t'do stuff like this, is the real kicker.” Liam nudges him, earning a playful eye roll from Zayn at his dig.

“Don’ get me wrong, s’beautiful, but im out of here. Back to solid ground where I belong.” He points to the mechanism that will lower him back down to the platform underneath where the crew is, hand then coming back to cling to the X shaped beams behind you all.

From what you were all told, it’s actually for maintenance… a large steel cage of sorts. One that’s clunky on the way up and down, and can’t carry more than two bodies a time— at best.

You hear the sigh of relief Zayn lets out as he steps onto the solid metal— sliding the carabiner out of the cable holding you all to the bridge. Waving a hand down to the crew to lower the lift, shouting down to them, “good to go, thank you lads!”

Once it’s back up, Liam goes down next, smiling pridefully as he gets onto the platform. Everyone knows this is a night you’ll all never forget.

Next is Louis, who does a salute to you all, “see you all on the other side,” leaving with a wink as he unclips himself once he’s in the cage.

Niall cleared his throat to shout, “Goodnight London, I bloody love ya!”

However, this is where things start to go awry. Because the platform doesn’t come back up as you and Harry had both been anticipating… causing you to both share a confused look as the final two up on the bridge.

“What the fuck…?” The two of you hear a worker cuss in annoyance, clear to you a slight commotion is going on below. It’s a very faint murmur of concerned, and also annoyed voices, that you’re straining to hear over the wind.

But suddenly Niall can be heard, loud and clear. Whatever it is can’t be that serious, because Niall is giggling? You and Harry both are leaning your heads to try and hear properly. Eventually he sounds like he’s having a full laughing fit, followed by a loud bellow of his amused tone that echoes all the way up to the two of you, “…So they’re stuck up there?”

Your heads snap to one another, locking eyes as you realise why the platform hasn’t come back up yet. Your cold hand comes over your mouth in shock trying to cover up your dropped jaw, warm breath ghosting over the red tips of your fingers.

“Fuckin— there’s no way…” Harry frowns, shaking his head, “He has to be tryin’ t’pull one over on us.”

"Gave the team 10 bucks t'act like its broken..." He murmurs to himself, pursing his lips as his head shakes in disbelief.

A part of you wishes that was the case, but your gut is telling you that its not. That sensation confirmed when your phone starts ringing in your back pocket.

Carefully, you pull it out of your pocket and glance to the screen, gesturing it over to Harry. Georgie, a part of your management team was calling you. He was a short, wiry red-haired man in his late thirties, who had a really lovely husband that would bake the band cookies with their son, Thomas.

With a sigh, you answer the call— putting it on speaker and shuffling closer to Harry so he can hear what he says.

Shoulder to shoulder, he leans his head down to listen, curls brushing the top of your head.

“Hello?” You say as you hear shuffling behind the phone, biting your bottom lip with your teeth as you wait for Georgie to actually talk to you.

Finally you hear him clear his throat with a short apology, “Okay— Y/N, Harry?”

He asks this as if it weren't abundantly obvious you were the only two people up there for him to be speaking to. It makes Harry palm his forward with a slight roll of his green eyes, “Georgie, what’s goin’ on?”

Annoyed look good on him, you thought. The way his brows pinched together and his lips formed a harsh line, jaw clenching tightly.

“Don’t panic but—“

“Oh, fucks sake, we’re gonna die up here, aren’t we?” You immediately interrupted, free hand coming up to your mouth as you take the nail of your thumb between your teeth.

“No, No!” He repeats, and you know he’s down there tapping his foot on the ground like he always does in conversations.

He’s either genuinely confident, or doing a really good job at faking it as he states, “All is well— just a minor inconvenience, is all…”

Harry and you say nothing though, waiting for him to fill the silence with an explanation of what exactly is happening down there.

“The cage lift has… uh,” his tone falters as he tries to find a way to explain the situation, “It’s had a bit of an issue. It’s not going up— we’ve got people on the way to fix it, so don’t worry.”

“They think it’s a combination of the cold night and the fact it’s not been used in a few weeks… but I promise we’re doing everything we can to get you guys down.”

Niall and Louis can be heard laughing in the back, and you feel at ease knowing the bridge isn’t about to collapse under your feet. You’re safe, just stuck up there for a little longer than planned.

“Wait till the media gets a hold of this,” Harry shakes his head, but a tiny relieved smile cracks now he also knows what’s going on— and likely at the boys cackling through the line.

“For now, just hold tight. I know it’s cold but atleast there’s two of you up there—“ you both shoot each other a confused look, “And I’ll call you when the blokes with their big tools are here to fix the lift and send it up…”

“Right… so in the meantime we just stay up here. On the top of a 200ft ledge?” You clarify, stupefied at the situation you've landed yourself in.

“Uhm, yep… I’ll call you guys back when I know more.” He replied curtly, before bidding a quick goodbye and hanging up.

Given the height you’re situated at, you don’t waste any time tucking your phone safely back into the pocket of your jeans. Glancing over to Harry who is smiling out at the city, “At least you’ve got a bit more time to try and memorise all this, hey?”

“Or we’re living our last hours up here before we die of hypothermia…”

A chuckle comes from him, where he nudges your shoulder with his, “C’mon Y/N, I think they’d airlift us off the bridge before it came to that point.”

"Now that would be a news story about us," you slant your gaze to him, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his jacket, “And that's at least true, I'm just being dramatic considering the situation.”

His lips curve into a smile, shaking his head with amusement, “We’re gonna get the biggest I told you so from Zayn.”

The wind blows your hair in all directions as it randomly pushes a strong gust against you, making you reach up to try and tame it back down.

“Whose fucking idea was it to leave my hair down,” you complain, despite it actually being your own. Harrys own hand comes to try and brush it out of your squinted eyes, quietly humming, “y’shivering, love.”

The way he is so gently pushing the hair from your face, paired with the hushed pet name makes you look up to him, “And so are you…”

Internally, you are cursing. Cursing right now whatever greater force has planted your ass in this set of circumstances. Stuck up here, in arguably the most romantic spot you could be put into. Together. Right at the time the resolve you've tried so hard to maintain that Harry is 'just a friend', is starting to crash and burn.

“C’mere.” He says, the lilt in his accent is deep from the crisp air, casually wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling you towards him. Just the action alone makes your whole body heat up, and your praying your cheeks are already red enough to hide the blush that's creeping hot up your neck…

Your cheek meets his shoulder, nose bumping his collarbone as he tucks you in the space between his arm and his side, the hand around your waist splaying over the knit of your sweater. He smells so good, masculine… the scent woodsy, but with an undertone of warm spices. You try not to draw in an obvious inhale against the collar of his shirt.

You adored how close a connection two of you shared, but you also hated it. Hated it because there’s no hesitancy in the way his hand curls around your side and lets your body lean into his. The this is just what friends do mentality. Especially in a situation like this, where the action can simply be justified by that, and that alone. It kills you feeling him like this, warm and gentle against your cold body, and trying to pretend like it isn't currently making your insides squirm.

“If this ledge weren’t so bloody thin, I’d wrap you up with m’jacket.” He admits, looking down at you.

He cant help but unknowingly make it worse for you.

Lips forming a thin line, you try to bite back the smile that's forcing it's way onto your face. The image playing off in your mind no matter how hard you try to wipe it. Stood here, arms slid around his toned middle, meeting together at the small of his back. oh god...

Your own hands have unconsciously braced themselves on the outer edge of his jacket, gripping it for dear life as you try to calm your racing heart.

Eyes veering outwards as you look at the scene in front of you, “it’s okay... its cold, but at least its beautiful.”

His own eyes are trailing the profile of your face, heart thrumming underneath his chest as an almost welcome heat spreads through him. He’s made a mistake pulling you into him, he should’ve known he’d bitten off more than he could chew. That he’d want more, to feel more of you than he already is.

When suddenly nothing is more appealing than leaning down and nudging your nose with his, to let your head tilt for him, so he can press a warm kiss against your mouth.

“So beautiful,” he quietly parrots, but he’s not thinking about the view.

Forcing his eyes away from you, he clears his throat carefully. A tiny chuckle escaping in the silence that had enveloped the two of you as you stared out at the city.

“Only this would happen to us.” He suddenly says, and you feel him draw in a deep inhale. Confused in what context he means it, you turn your head to look up at him with a puzzled smile, “What do you mean?”

“I can almost bet a thousand bucks we are probably the first and only people t'ever have this happen t'them. Somehow I find it fitting.”

“Pretty special... if you think of it like that.” You mutter, nodding slowly.

“No one can even see us, and there's a whole city out there—“ he gestures out with his finger, “that doesn’t know we’re up here.”

A morbid laugh bubbles from your throat, "I know were not gonna die up here, but if we were, I can't really imagine what the last thing I would want to do would be." You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle, and he's shaking his head at you.

His voice is completely normal as he ponders the thought, "Well... we’re kind of limited with what we can do because of these." His hand finds the hem of his white t-shirt, peeling the material above his belly button. It's intention to gesture to the harness flush around his middle. Your eyes however... they veer to the tan skin of his stomach, and the dark tattooed ferns that adorn his hips and bracket the dusting of hair that trails up from the band of his Calvin Klein briefs. Only graced with the sight for a few fleeting seconds before it disappears behind the white fabric once again.

You almost about choke on nothing. Having to force your throat to swallow before a bout of laughter rattles out of you without you able to stop it, "The harnesses?'

Your obviously answered question makes his brows furrow, and mouth quirk into a confused sort of smile. It only makes you laugh more, hand coming up to scrape down your face as a desperate attempt to ground your brain.

But, fuck— what he just said, you're banking it was an entirely innocent comment, and that's exactly what is causing the confusion at your disheveled reaction. But he quite literally doesn't realise what insinuation you thought he was making. And that you are imagining all kinds of depraved scenes without ability to stop.

A parallel of you only a minute earlier, he begins, "What do you—"

The pang of realisation hits him.

"...oh."

His words die where they were in his voice box, stomach churning the second he clocks onto your almost guilty laugh. The sound drips with warmth as it enters his ears.

He rolls his eyes, but suddenly his cheeks feel hot as a blush spreads across them no matter how hard he tries to will it away, "That is not what I meant! Of course you would think that."

Your jaw drops in feigned offense, knocking your elbow against the side of his ribs, "What are you trying to say about me?"

You've taken a small step back from him, hand coming to your chest as a mimic of your fake shock. You know how dangerous this is getting, and quickly at that. Breaching into uncharted territory.

"That your head is stuck in the gutter." He mumbles, blinking fast as he avoids meeting eyes with you as if you'd be able to simply see the thoughts plagued in his head now.

"It is not, you're the one that worded it weird!" You tease, arms crossing. It is truly like the rest of the world has fallen away, and like you are the only two people alive right now.

"Is so," he argues passionately back, "So far in the gutter, in fact, tell pennywise i say hi."

You burst out with a laugh, trying to tuck your cold hands between your upper arm and ribcage, "Gross, Harry. I fucking hate clowns."

"And mind you, I said nothing! You came to this conclusion on your own."

"Okay Y/N, What conclusion is it tha’ I'm coming to, if y'would be so gracious to enlighten me." Checkmate.

He's smiling now, you are red, embarrassed or worked up, or perhaps a heated mixture of both.

The ball is back in your court, and you struggle to get your mouth to move properly, "I— You cant— Don't turn this back on me!"

Suddenly, he tumbles his own inner thoughts out of his lips before he can halt them, they sound with a rasp, "Darling, you're the one having deluded n’dirty thoughts 200ft up n'the sky."

God. Does this count as foreplay to the mile high club? And fucking hell, his voice sounds too deep right now. The way his thick accent rolls the words out. Its making your head hurt.

Your earlier resolve is officially gone. It's thrown itself off the ledge of this bridge and is falling the very far drop to the bottom. And you know what, pretty sure your self respect is going with it. Between the two of them, it will be loud enough to probably hear the impact they make when they hit the water at full force.

"Probably the first person to be doing that up here, too." The words are gritted out of you as your heart pounds in your chest.

You hear the inhale he takes, deep— as if he's trying to ground himself, hold back whatever is transpiring right here, right now.

"Do have even half the idea of how badly I want t'kiss you right now?"

Your head snaps from where it was, tearing your eyes from where they'd locked onto the city skyline in attempt to distract yourself from the trouble you're about to get into. A part of you deep down realises how bad this could get quickly, how absolutely irreversible this conversation is.

And that regardless if something or nothing comes of it, you are never going to function the same. Laying in bed staring at the celling you'll see his face, next time you're on stage you'll feel your stomach drop when he looks at you, when you're in a room with him you'll cease to be able to function.

His green eyes have literally pinned you where you stand, wind toying with your hair as your lips are parted in shock.

"You don't mean that..." you stare at him, shaking your head slowly. Trying to back out of this, attempting to give him a moment to throw the blanket back over what he was uncovering.

He frowns, almost offended, as if doubting him is the worst thing there is in the world. Taking a brief step forward to fully face you, "Y/N, I would have you backed up against these beams if I wasn't literally restrained from doing so."

"What— Harry, what about—" At this rate, you're mustering up any excuse to rationalise what is happening right now, "I'm pretty sure there's strict rules against this in our contracts— you know?"

"Fuck the contracts." He immediately replies, disregarding that as a point entirely. His hand coming up to brush the brown curls that have been blown in front of his intense gaze, "Could care less 'bout them, not like we haven't broken a million other things in them."

True. You can think of several things between you and the band. You're still employed, if that says anything.

"The things I would do to you if I knew no one would interrupt" He takes another step closer to you, close enough you can reach out and touch him, "then well see about me not meaning any of this."

His voice, the absoluteness in his tone makes your head spin. Resolve slipping, cracking, completely dissipating from where it was being grappled in your palms two seconds prior to this conversation starting.

You feel like you're floating outside of your own body as your hands find the bottom of his white shirt, lifting it until you can wrap your fingers around the black harness taut around his middle. Slowly, you pull it until he is forced to step closer to you.

His heart stutters at the action... it's arguably the hottest thing a girl has ever done to him— beating a tug of belt loops or a belt by a mile. This was personal.

"This is still a problem, as you said earlier." You drawl quietly. Tone void of any indicative of emotion, the only thing he gets any intel from being the blush that's deepened on your cheeks.

There's a few ticks of silence when his chin dips to follow the action that's led your cold hands underneath his shirt, the way he stares the only point of physical contact between the two of you. But god, when your stare flickers up to him and he meets it with his own— his stomach jolts. Eyes squeezing shut as his forehead drops down, hesitating before pressing ever so slightly against your own, "Y'are too much, love."

His hands sliding up to meet your jaw, your low voice echoes out a plea, "Well, it would be a waste if we didn't."

Referring to the kiss of course, it does feel like it would be a missed opportunity to surpass right now. As, in all fairness you'll never be able to have a first kiss with Harry in a more memorable place. So even if the idea is stupid, It could be justified by that alone...

You feel his chest rumble with a deep chuckle, his lips pulling into a smile, "We'd regret it... if we didn't."

"We’d always wonder.” You nod, tone bearing on certainty as the two of you knowingly come to the biggest reach of a justification you could.

His fingers coil around your jawline, and you can feel his warm breath gently panning across your skin. It makes your eyes flutter closed, feeling his thumb ghost over your bottom lip. Eliciting a shudder that runs straight up your spine, making him smile with pride.

Tipping your chin up, he brushes his mouth over the corner of your lips. Catching them just slightly, “I’d always be thinking about what your mouth would feel like against mine,”

“And then you’d just end up kissing me anyway,” you chuckle quietly, “just in a probably less cool place.”

“Mhmm,” the low hum of agreement rumbles from his throat as finally he bears his mouth down against your own. The press of warm lips against yours making your whole body sing.

Cold was no longer a feeling in you, there was only a hot tingling sensation that’s shot through your limbs as his mouth lingers in hesitation for a moment before moving to kiss lightly against the fullness of your bottom lip.

He nearly groans when you regain enough control over yourself to actively kiss him back, leaning into his touch.

The excitement spreads through you both like wildfire— you’re kissing each other on the top of a world famous bridge. Cars below, and mentionably the crew members also underneath, have no idea. No idea the fact your hands are skating up his white shirt further until you’re palming the hard slabs of muscle over his abdomen. Not even a clue that one of his hands has taking sanctuary on your hip bone, tugging your body into his.

Your mouths work against each other, tongues suddenly getting involved when he squeezes a hand along your ribs making your lips part. His warm tongue gliding into your mouth just enough for you to taste him slightly.

“Harry,” his name is whined against his mouth, nails clawing over the skin of his chest.

“Fuck—“ he bites out, tongue lulling against your bottom lip, greedily trying to taste more of you.

The action alone is enough to make your knees nearly give out, “I need—“

Your desperate words are cut off, the sound of your phone ringing bringing you both to an instant halt.

There’s a shared look, both taking in what you’ve done to one another. Left standing here with eyes half lidded and lips swollen— looking entirely, wholeheartedly, fucked.

A tortured sigh comes from you as he promptly leans back down and kisses your mouth. If it had anything to do with you, you'd let the call ring out just to have more of this. He is more sensible than that, clearly. As his hand comes to the back pocket of your jeans, sliding your buzzing phone out into his palm.

Wanting to whine when he pulls away, a part of you is battling all your logic and is begging to stay up here with him. For how long? You don’t care, forever as far as you’re concerned. Fighting the urge to just grab your phone and throw it off the ledge, purely so his hands can busy themselves on your skin again.

Harry clears his throat before tapping the accept button, hoping to god he can muster a normal sounding voice.

Georgie’s voice comes through first, less shuffling on his end of the phone this time— indicating some higher level of organisation in comparison to earlier, you assume.

“Harry, Y/N! Platforms on its way up you two, everything okay?”

“Yep, Georgie,” he nods, pursing his lips as his eyes find your to pin you with a stare, “things are good.”

A small laugh and he replies, “Well— I can’t really tell if you’re bein’ sarcastic but I’ll take it.”

“Anyway, once it’s up there we’ve been told strictly to keep it one at a time to come down just to be on the safe side so it doesn’t malfunction again.”

“Very reassuring…” Harry drawls with slight grimace, glancing over to where the metal cage is rising up.

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” he scolds playfully over the speakers, making Harry roll his eyes— but a playful smile falls on his lips.

“See you soon, thanks for saving us Georgie, I owe ya one.”

You finally lean towards the phone, “I second this, thank you.”

“Not a worry, didn’t want that much paperwork on a Friday night.” He teases, before ending the call with a quick ‘see you soon.’

Harry’s eyes return to you. Your lips part and draw in a hushed gasp as he leans back into your space. Hands slowly sliding around your middle. Making that same breath catch in the middle of your throat as he pulls you in, slowly, almost sensually as his eyes drop to your lips.

He lingers against you, a tease, you already know it.

Proving you right, he deposits your phone back safely into your back pocket, applying a few gentle taps to the swell of your ass as he leans back again.

"H." is all you can say, and at this point it comes from you as almost a whine. But it saying exactly what you want without having to even tell him.

A grin is plastered on his handsome face at the blush that’s already torn its way back through you. His bashful smirk mirroring that of two teenagers that have sneaked a kiss before going back to their friends or family.

Which is exactly what he does, struggling not to smile against your mouth as he presses warmly, firmly against you. Giving you exactly what you wanted.

Allowing you both as much time as reasonably possible to soak in the feeling before he starts to pull away, your body almost instinctually following his movement— leaning further, pecking against his mouth until he steadies your shoulders with his hands.

A soft chuckle breathily escaped him, heart nearly melting inside his chest as your wide, wild eyes stare up at him. A tiny, smile on your own mouth now, one he reaches up to thumb delicately over.

The touch is earnest and makes you nearly sink into yourself— or better yet, sink into him.

A light hum of pleasure, and then he pulls away, turning to start walking along the ledge.

Carefully, you both shuffle to where the platform is now fully stationary. As he takes a step onto it, feet planting solidly onto the metal, you see a sense of relief on his face. Hands working to unbuckle the carabiner, and his eyes flitting back to yours.

You’re staring at his hands… the way they seamlessly open the clasp. You’ve always been drawn to them, the firm tendons that run into his fingers. He catches you doing this, and whether or not he knows you’re ogling the stature of his hands, the smirk on his face is all consuming.

You roll your eyes bashfully at him, pursing your lips and crossing your arms all in an attempt to be normal about this. But struggling to come across to him as unaffected by this whole ordeal.

He is having none of it.

“M’not done with you, love. Not even close.”

And that’s the last thing he said before the platform started the trip back down. Suddenly you are alone up here once again. The moment of solitude very sobering in a situation as such.

Unbelievable to consider that if you told yourself two hours ago that by the end of the night, you had made out with Harry up here, you would’ve believed sooner that you were having hallucinations than actually thought it were true.

Your brain is going over it and over it, like a flashbulb memory, all you can think about is him, and what you’d just done.

“Fuck sakes.” You cursed, hand coming up over your eyes in attempt to quell the thoughts.

It was closest to a face palm. Your palm immediately clapped over your eyes. It’s to no use though, as even behind the darkness of shut and covered eyelids you could still see him, still feel him. The sensation of his fingers softly grazing over the skin of your ribcage, slipped tentatively underneath the knit of your sweater. The heat of his tongue lulling gently into your mouth.

M’not done with you, love. Not even close…

The sound of his voice, even if it’s simply the imagination of it in your own head, it reignited the heat in your stomach— if it ever truly went away— making it churn with heavy desire. Almost worse than earlier, now that you had to stand here and suffer through it stationary.

Dragging your heavy hand up to take place in your hair, you push the loose strands out of your face, and tug at its roots.

With now open eyes, the city stared back at you. Supplying you with a mocking silence. As if to imply, I saw what you just did. Watched you kiss someone you shouldn’t, and not even just once by any means. You went back for more even after it stopped. Got your hands and feelings involved.

You attempted to smooth your hair down, annoyed that your guilt has conjured into the city of London taking over your internal monologue. It was messy as you combed your fingers through it, but whether it was Harry or the wind, you’re hoping that— and the rest of your disheveled appearance— can be attributed to the cold and wind entirely.

Which suddenly, that cold felt so much harsher now Harry was no longer up there with you. Either it was his body heat pressed against you that heated you up, or kissing him had that much of an affect on you. Tragically, you’re ball parking that it’s a torturously attractive combination of them both.

When the platform thankfully returns up, you steal a final glance out at the Thames and London. Definitely a sight you’ll have burned into your mind for the rest of your life.

Stepping onto the platform, you felt equal parts relief and anxiety. God forbid people can sense something is different between you two… and this is not a situation you’ve ever been in before. Who knows your own capacity to hold a convincing lie about something like this.

The second you’re down all the way and the platform meets the ground, you’re greeted with a flurry of workers and people from the crew. All chorusing questions of ‘are you okay?’ to you as if you’d been up there for days without food or water.

Tamara, one of the women on the styling teams, rushed up to you with a thick black coat, shawling it over you and rubbing your shoulders, “here lovie, y'shaking like a leaf you poor thing... this’ll warm you up.”

Her lower lip pouted out in sympathy for you, her dark curls of hair casting over her eyes as she spoke “Gosh, you look so cold, the wind up there must’ve been so chilly… your cheeks are all red— and your hair's all over the place."

At least she was attributing it all to the cold wind, and wasn't immediately aware you'd just snogged with your bandmate up there. Either way the slight shake to your hands was the last of your worries, and your gaze has landed on Harry— but he was already looking at you.

His stare said it all really, the look of we have unfinished business all over his face. The tiny curve to the corner of his mouth that may go unnoticed to everyone else but you. Possibly because you had his tongue in your mouth less than half an hour ago, but still— you pick up on it all the same.

Georgie is fussing over him currently, and Harry takes a second to break the eye contact the two of you held, pausing to let out a breathy laugh as he turns to Georgie, “And surely after all this excitement we get to go back to the hotel room— no more crazy behind the scenes to film?”

Tamara’s ears perk and she overhears him, nodding as she rubs your shoulder, “we’ve already got a car down there to get you back to the hotel."

You thank god for the bridge being closed to traffic, entirely unable to imagine trying to trudge through hordes of tourists and potentially fans just to get back to a car.

Several people escort you and harry down the stairs to where a black car is parked opposite to the exit.

Tamara opens the door for you both, and you share a look before scooting into the backseats. Georgie gets into the front passenger seat, greeting the driver politely. Already clued in on the mishap on the bridge, they waste no time having a relieved laugh about you both getting down in one piece.

The heater is already cranking in the black car, heating your skin. Harry pats the middle seat with his hand, giving you a look. It lingered like an unspoken sentence in the glimmer of his green eyes, and the tiny upwards tilt to the corner of his mouth.

Next to me, it said.

Like it was less question, and more that he needed you next to him more than anything else in the world right now.

And as you’re coming to realise, this look on his face can pretty much get you to do anything. It’s only telling how far that alone could take you. So you silently settle into the middle seat, pulling the seatbelt across yourself. Buckling it in, feeling Harry’s thigh gently press against your own.

There are so many unspoken words floating in the air between you two. Things you want to say, things you want to do, all suspended above you. Making you wonder if Georgie— who is rugged up in the front seat and is apparently accompanying you both on the ride back to the hotel— can sense it too.

However, he seems oblivious despite your expectation for him to be the opposite. He pays no additional mind to you both, other her than the slight dart of his eyes to your body taking up the middle seat instead of the window seat behind him.

Your teeth are working over the skin on the corner of your lower lip as you’re driving back towards central London. Delmar, the driver whose name you’ve overheard in passing as Georgie and him acquainted, is weaving back into the thick of the cities traffic as you’re off the closed bridge.

Harry’s eyes are cast outside the window, but his hands are deciding to play a dangerous game. Simply at the fact he cannot help himself. He’s aware that Georgie is distracted, and is taking the opportunity to innocently flex his knuckles against your knee. Breaching the gap from where his hand rests atop his own. The warm city lights are cutting a deep shadow across his jaw, outlining the smirk on his side profile.

It conveys his need to touch you, that your body filling up the space next to him is not enough. Although you have to hold back an exasperated sigh at his actions, and how he is only making this worse for you, you end up sliding your hand down your thigh, slowly and carefully.

It's likely that you're just as bad as him, because you brush your hand against his— Nothing but your pinky stretched out, grazing his. Both of your eyes shifting upwards to lock with each other, then back to Georgie. A silent acknowledgment at how careful the two of you have to be right now.

Slowly, you link your pinky around his own, catching his ring finger too as he curls them against you. The delicate touch is somehow a head-spinning mix of sincere and beautiful, but also so insanely attractive.

He's smiling, a wide grin that his free hand attempts to cover as his elbow rests on the car door. Covering the dimples you wanted to take in, allowing you only the sight of slightly crinkled eyes from how hard he's smiling underneath the palm of his hand. To put it simply, right now he looks like an art piece. His chocolate curls over his forehead, and the smile on his face you know that you're the cause of. Hands brushing together, hidden between the both of you— all in the back of a car, trying to hide it like true teenagers.

It's sudden when you realise you are in the exact same state, struggling to disguise the curve of your mouth from not only Harry, but the other two people in the vehicle. Trying to press your lips together as he plays with your fingers. Hands soft and warm against yours, your eyes casting down to where they're joint together between the two of your knees. Just barely. Small enough a move to ensure you're the only two that know about it, but also enough to make your stomach churn with need.

I want his mouth on mine again, your brain chimes.

Before your brain can send you spiraling back into the memory of you two kissing, the sound of your name from the front seat cuts through it.

"Y/N, You were up there, tell Delmar what it was like!"

Snapping your gaze back to Georgie, he serves a unintentional reality check for you.

"Oh, uhm—" Shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts, you endeavor to form a coherent sentence. Harry's hand gently, and as discretely as possible, slides out of yours, taking its place back on his own thigh. If you were to look, you'd see that the smile on his face has somehow gotten wider, as if the aspect of being nearly caught out in the backseat of the car is the most amusing thing in the world.

Amplified by him listening to you stumble over your words, that too is endearingly hilarious. A true gentlemen.

However, you're now unable to find the words for what happened up there that don't relate to having someone kissing you over and over again.

"Well, you can imagine it was beautiful," A tiny, pained chuckle comes out of you, "London is... massive— from up there, y'know?"

God. You sound like such an idiot, you already know that.

The driver laughs and nods at your attempt to tell the story, voice warm and sincere as he replies, "Some things can be hard to put into words, I understand."

You take a moment to realign your thoughts, come up with anything better than 'London is... massive'.

Finally smiling back at him, you draw in a breath, trying to articulate the feeling prior to getting distracted up there with your bandmates mouth, "Well, the city lights are kind of like a warm sky of stars... Hard to believe that there's so many people in London when you look at it from that high up."

He hums at your much better description of the sight, and of course— just as anyone would, he curiously asks a few more questions.

Such as 'how long were you up there? were you scared?' All of which Georgie unfortunately does not swoop in on to steer the conversation again, as he too wants to hear the experience from you.

Delmar does eventually cast his attention to Harry's broad frame in the rear view mirror, quizzing him on his own outlook on the event, making you thankful to have a second to breath and not be skirting around the fact you made out with the person sitting currently right next to you.

He handles the questions with tragic ease— or at the very least it comes off that way— but you can hear how he is still trying not to laugh. And the way he's knocking your thigh with his every chance he gets when the eyes in the front of the car aren't on either of you.

The streets and the traffic within them get busier as the hotel the band is staying at draws close. Delmar weaving into the back lot so you can both get inside discreetly, not forgetting to thank you for the pleasurable chat. His kind words you both smile, and Harry isn't shy to also gives his gracious appreciation, "Drive was a dream, thank you mate, 'ave a lovely rest of your night."

His hand comes to open the car door, allowing him to slide out— But once he's standing, he gestured out his palm for you to take as your feet come to the asphalt below. The smirk on his face as you take it is enough to make you roll your eyes, trying to downplay the effect it has on you.

He leans discretely down to your ear, speaking only loud enough for you both to hear, "I know I will."

A wink to you, and it feels like your knees are going to give out simply where you stand. He gives it a squeeze before breaking off to shut the car door, and walk over to where Georgie is standing.

“Tamara told me they’ve got hot chocolates prepared in the foyer for you two.” Georgie informs you both, typing quickly back to Tamara on his phone before leading you both in through the back entrance of the hotel. Harry’s hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket as you walk beside him, likely to stop himself from caving and trying to grab your hand or arm in his as you walk behind Georgie.

The air is contrastingly cold compared to the warm car, which brings another bout of relief when you to get back into the heated hotel lobby.

Surely enough, a short, older lady comes out from a kitchen area upon you all entering. Promptly walking up to Georgie with a tray with 3 large cups filled with the sweet beverage. He gasps in excitement as she approaches, remarking sweetly that "Tam even got me one, what a sweetheart!"

"Bet thats the real reason y'came back with us." Harry teases, then nods in greeting to the lady holding the tray of drinks, "Thanks for these, love."

Even she looks up at him with a big grin. Reminding you of the way the elderly ladies talked about the boys when you were filming earlier for this music video. Harry— and all the others— just have that charm about them. Clearly it lacks a generational age limit. And you know what, you cant even blame her. She gets it.

"Not a worry darling's, buzz us if you all need anything else,” You give her a smile as she reaches to pat your arm, “it should warm everyone up.”

“Thank you so much.” You affirm as you clasp the hot cup from the tray.

Heading towards the posh elevator, Georgie presses the up button and is talking to Harry about tomorrow, how he has a fitting for a suit. Something about an awards show. You're struggling to pay attention, as you know all three of you are headed to the same floor. Not only does Georgie have to think you're going back to your respective rooms for the night, but if any of the other boys waited up for you two, there is no way you're going to get to be alone tonight.

Harry is busy entertaining Georgie's itinerary as you step into the elevator, his hand reaching for the '32' button on the control panel. The descent up each floor feels like it drags on forever, anticipation for how this is going to play out genuinely killing you.

When the large silver doors open to the 32nd floor, all of you walk out in tandem onto the tiled hallway. Your rooms are all pooled together at the start of the hall, meaning there’s hardly any further to walk once you’re out of the elevator.

Your own keycard for your room is in your phone case, so you reach to pop the case off and slide it out as you come to a stop outside the large white doors of your room.

"Well," You clear your throat, eyes darting between Harry and Georgie, "Glad we all survived that ordeal, I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow."

A small buzz sounds from the sensor as you hold the card over it, a small green light flashing.

“Mhm, tomorrow.” Harry affirms casually, casting a sly nod your way from where he stands on the opposite side of the hallway. Standing outside his own room, fishing out a keycard from deep in the pocket of his jeans.

Georgie, who is happily and unknowingly pushing open his own door, chuckles at your comment, "Definitely glad, see you two in the morning."

With a small smile, he makes sure to squeeze in a a final reminder to Harry, "H, half ten tomorrow, don't forget."

The two of you have both slid inside your respective hotel rooms as Harry laughs quietly, replying to him, "Wouldn't dare."

Waiting, your free hand clutches the door. Admiring his face in the warm glow of the hall lights, and the way he keeps his eyes trained on the room Georgie was disappearing into. As you watch, you’re taking a sip of your hot chocolate when his gaze finally darts to yours as the click of a door sounds up the hall.

Now you’re just looking at each other, tension in the air thick and warm. He’s smiling as he mimics your behaviour, taking a leisurely drink from his own cup without breaking eye contact.

Given the few seconds of silence, you are certain that no one is going to disturb you, and a sense of relief washes over you. Finally. Other than the pounding of your heart in your chest, everything around you is quiet. You peak your head around the smooth rim of the doorframe, all the doors were shut, and the rooms were hushed.

By some grace of god, not only has one of your managers gone to bed without any hunch as to what’s going on, but the rest of your bandmates too. And it really is just the two of you.

Harry’s gaze is burning into with an equal grin when you look back to him. Revelling in the privilege he feels watching you step quietly back into the hall, turning your body to very gingerly tug your door closed again.

You cannot be closing the gap between you both fast enough, you’re practically running across the hall, shoes lightly clacking against the tiles to reach him before this perfect opportunity could be interrupted by a single soul. Pursing your lips as you step across the threshold of his door and the hallway, forcing back a laugh that’s bubbling in your chest at the situation.

Not wasting a second more, you invade his space. Leaning into the curve of his body where his arm is braced against the door he’s holding open.

“Hi…” Your hand reaches up to meet the back of his neck, where it cranes to look down to meet your eyes.

“Hey, baby,” he rasps, eyes fluttering as he takes you in. The black of his pupils have blown out over the mosaic of emerald green surrounding them, dilated in what can only be described as sheer anticipation. Conveying the want and need he feels without having to speak more than a word. That alone is something you can’t handle for half a moment longer, because suddenly your hand sinks into the soft curls at his nape, and you’re pulling to tug his head further down. Moulding your lips together in a single, rushed movement.

There’s no words that can do justice the feeling that explodes in your chest. Little buds of heat bloom and flower in there faster than you can keep up with, kicking your lungs into a pant as his tongue can’t help but get involved immediately— lulling over the fullness of your bottom lip. The firm press of a single kiss had promptly melted into a plethora, one after the other as your lips show no mercy against one another.

You have to physically focus to keep the cup from slipping from your grip. A nearly impossible feat when his tongue is invading the gap between your top and bottom lip, gliding into your mouth with a hum from his throat at the taste of you. Warm and chocolatey, a flavour he wants to sink in.

Harry too tastes of the warm drink, a sweet contrast to earlier— when your tongue tingled from the spearmint on his breath. Your body leans into his. More, more, more, your brain is practically begging. Naturally it causes him to stumble back as your chest is arching to press against his own. The softness of your body makes him want to groan, and his hand almost instinctually leaves its hold on the doorframe to meet the dip of your waist. Supporting your stature as he pulls you to follow each step back he takes.

With a loud slam, the door falls shut, eliciting a slight flinch and laugh from you both. Like you didn’t expect it. As if natural consequences don’t exist right now, and the world around you is falling away with every press of lips against skin. There is no actions causing reactions, except the ones happening solely between the two of your bodies.

“Oh god—“ You sputter a strained laugh, hand stroking along his jawline as your eyes dart to the now shut door. It’s thrown the room into darkness, except for the faint glow London’s city lights have provide from his window on the opposite side of the room. “So much for being discrete… and quiet.”

This lighting bought the sharp shadows back onto his face, but this time you can finally touch them— revel in them.

“You’ll be more worried about quiet later, darling.” His voice comes low against your cheek, hand on your hip. Guiding you backward until the small of your back meets the cool countertop of the kitchenette.

His words bring that familiar, pleasure-filled roll into your stomach. Drawing out a tiny whine from your throat as he smirks against your flushed skin. Placing a peck against your cheekbone, he lingers for a few seconds. Letting the warmth of his lips burn a mark into the very nerves they touch, before pulling back to take a swig of the hot chocolate between his hands. Using his free one to now guide your own cup towards your mouth.

As your big eyes look up to him, he breaks his lips from the lid to speak, “drink s’more, it’ll be a cold chocolate by the time we come back to it.”

Chuckling around the edge of the cup, you press your mouth to it and let the sweet and warm liquid trail down your throat. He watches intently, the way you swallow it down— knuckles coming to run from the base of your throat upwards, tracing along the hook of your jaw.

He has to stifle a groan at the sight of you, the way your throat bobs with your red cheeks and messy hair. It translates instead through the clench of his jaw, and fluttering shut of his green eyes. The expression makes your stomach flip, not only warm from the hot chocolate, but from the arousal that’s sparking heat in every part of your body it can tangibly reach.

“Fuck— H,” you say, turning to push the takeaway cup on the counter behind you, “You’re so fucking beautiful, look at you.”

Finally, that groan escapes him simply at your words. Furthering into something more as now both of your hands run up his white shirt. No longer stopped by the barrier of a body harness, you skate along the taut, firm muscles of his abdomen in one long stroke.

“Fuckin’ Hell…” he curses, eyes darting down to meet where your hands have slid up his shirt— again, for the second time tonight.

It’s a much more heated parallel of earlier, one he takes no hesitancy to act on. Leaning into your touch, he turns briefly to place his cup adjacent to yours on the bench top. Feeling your nails scratch along his abs, he is quick to move so he’s facing you again, planting his lips back on your own and reigniting the fiery kiss.

With two free hands now, he runs them up your hips, firmly pulling you against him as he walks you away from the kitchenette. Your feet stumble along with his long strides, brain struggling to pay attention to anything other than the drag of his hot kiss against you.

It’s clear all resolve is lost to you both, and when the backs of your knees hit the edge of the cool comforter… “Im gonna wreck you, love… if you’ll let me.” The depraved words are whispered against your lips.

His body presses you down, you have to sit now, thighs meeting the bed and your lips disconnecting. The sudden distance causes you to whine, “Harry—“

“You’re going to have to tell m’too stop.” He rasps, the heat of his palms travelling up under your sweater. However this time, they traverse higher than just your ribcage— ghosting over the sides of your breasts.

The sight is obscene on its own, despite all articles of clothing still being on. The tension around you both is crowding the air to the point your lungs are heaving to bring any oxygen left into them.

Finally, your brain manages to string a sentence together, “I won’t. I wouldn’t. I don’t think you realise what you’ve done to me.”

The urgency held in your words starkly highlights how fast your need for him has snowballed. You’ve gone from wanting just his lips, to wanting every inch of him. Needing his body pressed against yours, pressed into you. You grasp his hips and tug him to stand between your parted legs.

Once you’d done that, if that hadn’t thrown your last handful of caution to the wind, your fingers now reach for the hem of your sweater.

This was a greenlight. It was a go ahead to cross a line that you both knew shouldn’t be crossed. As it was no longer just words. Not just strung up whispers that imply a want, it was an action that affirmed it. One that drags a growl from him once your hands have shucked the knit from your body, leaving you in just bra and jeans, “pretty little thing y’are.”

“We’re making a mistake, probably,” you pant out, reaching your arms up to his shoulders, grabbing the collar of his jacket to slowly slide it off him. The thick fabric hitting the floor with a gentle thump, “but I don’t fucking care.”

“Mistake is already long done baby, we made that hours ago when we first did this.” He finally cranes down again, pressing a wet kiss against you, making you almost moan.

“Fuck it,” I rasp, “I need you Harry, I wanna do this. Don’t care how stupid we are for it.”

Breaking away from the kiss, his eyes bore down at you as his jaw forms a hard line, “You want this? Need y’to say it…”

His sentence trails off, allowing you a moment to verbalise a yes. A seek for certain consent turns you on even more.

“If it’s not already obvious,” your response comes out in a breathy, almost tortured chuckle, “I do, H.”

It’s like his expression flips. As if his gaze darkens, and now all he wants is to make you feel everything he possibly can, “Right, darling— gonna have to be quiet tonight, though.”

Tonight. God— in your head this implied a want for this to go on for more than just one night. That it’s not just a one and done situation. Your body reels at the imagery it creates in your head.

The picture that shows more than tonight, the two of you sneaking around all over again. Fucking him in his dressing room before soundchecks, in dark hotel rooms, climbing into his bunk on the bus…

And right now, somehow that’s all you want for your future.

“I can…” you nod, “I’ll be quiet if it means I get you, please.”

Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears, the plea so desperate that it comes from you in a tone you’ve simply never heard before. In response, his hands make quick work of your bra as they skate up the skin of your back to meet the clasp— shedding it off your body with a gentle groan.

He lowers you down with his arms, letting your back meet the mattress as he closely follows with his mouth on your neck.

“Already being so good for me,” he rumbles, voice so deep it has you nearly seeing stars, “will y’let me turn the lamp on baby? Want to see you, properly.”

Your heart jumps in your chest, eyes fluttering shut as you nod. He wants to revel in your body, see every reaction it has to offer— and that’s enough to have goosebumps rattle up your skin.

However, your nod alone doesn’t satisfy him.

His hands run up your waist, skirting up your ribcage as his lips instead move down. Mouthing over your clavicle, “Words, love…” making you whine out when his sucks lightly over the skin.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes… yes turn the lamp on…” The words almost shudder out your chest, evoking a smirk from him against your collarbone.

“Good girl.”

His words are foreplay enough on their own with the way his sweet accent twists them out. They replay over and over again as some part of your brain registers the sound of his feet walking across the floor, and the lamp flicking on. Casting a warm glow across the room.

“Want to see you too...”

The sentence comes out of you airy, as if you’re floating. When turns around to come back to you, he audibly groans just at the sight of you. The way your skin is peppered with goosebumps and nipples perked from the cool air of the hotel room.

His steps take him quickly back to you, your eyes big as they stare up at him, hair fanned across the duvet. He reaches a hand to run lightly over your hip, “God, you are fucking divine.”

Shyly, you smile. A part feeling so out of place as you watch him looking at you. Knowing Harry is perceiving you right now— your body from the chest up entirely naked— seeing you in a way he never has before. In attempt to even the playing field slightly, you reach for the white tee that’s fitted across his chest, tugging the hem of it so he gets the hint.

As he peels it off his torso and you want to cry. The abs on his chest are in front of you, along with every inch of tan skin that’s littered in the dark ink. Secretly, his tattoos have always been something you’ve wanted to trace your tongue over. An urge you’ve been denying since he got the first one, and it’s only grown since… the idea of re-carving the lines of the butterfly that sits in the middle of his abdomen with the heat of your mouth… or perhaps lower over the laurels that bloom from the band of his jeans.

“You look so good… so beautiful, H.” Is all you manage to groan out. Your legs part instinctively as you spew out compliments, letting him step between your thighs again. Filling the space like the piece of a puzzle, he slots perfectly between them.

Wasting no time before taking his lips to your breast, kissing over you and making your back arch. Hands coming back to the dark curls on his head, lacing into them as his mouth works delicately over you.

The whimpers that are echoed around the room are enough to drive him insane. Tiny whines and pleas of his name coming from you as your hands tangle further into his hair— pulling at the soft roots. Your body is reacting to his touch like it’s lighting a fire inside of you.

“Harry— fuck—“ when he looks up to you, he sees your flushed cheeks and screwed shut eyes. That paired with the slight upturn of your brows as your hips suddenly— and desperately— grind into him is enough to make him nearly loose it. He’s unable to take it anymore, and seeing you like this is utterly corrupting him.

His kisses work a trail back up your neck and jaw, meeting your eager lips before muttering with hot breath against you, “Y’are unbelievable, love. Gonna completely ruin myself in you…”

His hands are nearly shaking as he presses his hips flush to your core.

“Ohh—“ your voice croons out as you feel him, the hardness snug between your legs. It’s incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt. Your whole body practically gives out just from that simple action alone.

He is truly going to ruin you and himself in the process.

And happily, you’ll let him.

His fingers ghost down your stomach, over your naval to pop the button of your jeans open with a single hand. Watching his plump bottom lip come between his teeth as your hips instinctively rise upwards to help him slide the tight fabric down your frame.

“That’s m’girl,” he murmurs, patting your exposed hipbone as he slips yours jeans off you. The way his pupils have blown out as he peels them below your core, eyes meeting the fabric of your panties.

“What’s all this?” Once your pants are stripped from your legs, his fingers take place gently to press between your parted thighs. Delicately drifting over the wetness that’s seeped through your already thin pair of underwear.

“T-the panties, or the state that they’re in?” You manage to croak out in amusement, tone tight as he touches over the most sensitive parts of you.

“Because arguably, both are for you.”

“For me…” He hums, “Skimpy pair of panties, and the fact y’ve wet them all the way through… both of those things are all f’me, love?”

His finger plucks underneath the seam of your underwear, yanking the lacy material forwards before letting it snap back into place. Only making you moan aloud, “Fuck—“

“It’s been—“ his thumb runs against you, firmer this time, breaking your voice, “it’s been a long night—“

To your admission he only smirks, unbuttoning his own jeans— again, all with the talent of a single hand. As his other is busy with the ministrations it’s working over your clothed core.

“Mm, wouldn’t want to drag it out any longer, hey baby?” His playful voice making you practically clench… “or should I make you come a couple of time first…”

Suddenly, he’s shucked his own jeans off and kicked them over into the haphazardly made pile of other clothes on the floor. And the simple but absolutely mouth watering pair of CK briefs is all he’s left in. His hard cock filling up the space in them, making it abundantly clear he’s working with a lot tonight.

He leans back into your ear, feeling your legs wrap around the backs of his thighs like you’re trying to mould the two of you together, “Could work over your pretty pussy with m’fingers, get it nice and wet.”

The filth from his mouth only makes you moan, tightening your legs and finally feeling the length of his cock back against your cunt.

There’s few layers between you now, and his hands meet your hips to hold you in place flush with himself, “fuck—“

“Could play with you using my mouth for a bit—“ he bites out, already struggling to regulate his breath, “reckon you’d loose it the second I got m’lips around your clit.”

Jesus Christ.

“H— please—“ your words are desperate, voice growing louder.

“Or does my pretty girl just want my cock? Is it too much for you to wait before y’have me— y’just need to be filled up now?”

You rub firmly up against him, a long drag that has him muffling a groan into your neck— teeth grazing the skin of your ear as he revels in the feeling entirely.

“Want it now,” you conclude, “can’t stop thinking about you just stretching me out.”

“God— you are such a fucking tease, y’don’t even realise it,” he growls, kicking back into action as his rough hands travel down your side to hook into your panties.

“Laying here, begging for my cock like a good girl.” The rasp in your voice only makes you more turned on… and the pet name— that in itself is enough to keep you here all night. All things he’s about to witness first hand as he steps back so he can work your underwear off your body.

“Lift y’hips up, dove, let me see your pretty cunt.”

He moans at the sight.

Your panties aren’t even off you and he’s moaning like he’s a starved man.

“Fuck, baby.” There’s a desperate sound to him as he sees your swollen cunt, green eyes raking over the wetness that’s pooled between your legs. Unblinking, scared as if you might disappear.

His own moans kick you off too, making you whine out your own plea, “God— Harry, please…”

He manages to get the panties off you, and now he’s able to spread your legs and really look at you. Hands coming between your knees to part them.

You’re a mess.

A complete and utter mess.

“Hiding this gorgeous cunt from me for so long, never knew you’d get this wet f’me.” He groans, fingers coming to your cunt and spreading you open, “puffy clit looks like it’s been wanting attention for hours, darling.”

The sensation ripples through you body, washing up your spine with a chill that he can almost see, “I— shit…” your voice shudders, “feels like it.”

“Kills me thinking you were this ready for me when we were in the car, or god— on that fucking bridge.”

He swirls his thumb over your clit, your arousal glistening on the pad of his finger. You’re begging before you can stop yourself, backs of your legs tightening around his as you groan, “Harry, please, don’t tease me.”

This pulls a chuckle from his chest, rumbling as he flicking over you gently, “M’not teasing y’baby, just enjoying you.”

His finger slowly dips inside of you, “S’this better, this what my girl wanted?”

“Fuckk…” you roll against his hand, feeling him work a second one into you at your reaction. Relishing the feeling of you around his fingers, the wetness he can’t believe he’s managed to be the cause of.

Never in a million years did he imagine the two of you would be in a situation like this, yet here you are. Breath panting out of lungs as he smirks down at you, watching your brows knit together with every slow curl of his long fingers.

Suddenly, he verbalises this, “Never thought I’d get you under me like this, that I’d get to see you all worked up for me.”

“I—“ you bite your lip as his thumb comes back to gently stroke your clit while his other fingers ease in and out of you. The pace excruciatingly slow, considering you just wanted him to flip you over and fuck you senseless— but is causing a deep winding in the pit of your stomach.

It’s another moment where your mouth and brain struggle to match up, but finally, you push out a reply, “I’ve always been denying that I’ve wanted this… but fuck.”

“Mm?” He hums, cocking a brow and urging you to keep talking with a quicker thrust of his fingers, “Care to tell me more, love, about these thoughts of yours?”

“Always pretended I didn’t, but fuck I’ve wanted to have you—“ he hooks his fingers, “B-but— fuck, Harry— I’ve wanted your cock for so long…”

His mouth is suddenly on yours, a rough and messy exchange— tongues running over lips, teeth grazing already kiss swollen mouths. It’s a kiss that you’re both groaning into, yours perpetuated as his fingers slide out from between your core.

An unwelcome emptiness to your body, especially given the pleasure it was slowly building up for you.

However, this is no longer an issue when he leans to your ear, “I have condoms, baby— just say the words.”

“Yes, yes, please—“ you croak out, hands running up his bare back before he doesn’t waste any time breaking away from you.

Trying to make it quick as you lie there awaiting his return, a hand running between your own legs in the meantime.

He comes back with a small square packet, stopping dead in his tracks as he sees the sight of you. When he thinks there’s no way his cock could get harder, he’s proved wrong when he catches glimpse of your own fingers pushed into you.

“So desperate,” he almost growls as he walks over, pushing boxers down his thighs without a second thought. A moan escaping you at the sight of his thick cock springing up, lust driving the both of you now— its deep hooks sunk into you in their entirety.

“They don’t feel the same though, do they?” He asks, eyes dark as his hand runs down the middle of his stomach to come wrap around his length and slowly stroke over it, “don’t hear you moaning like you were five minutes ago.”

“Fucking hell,” your hips feel like they’re on fire, another roll against your own hand but he’s right, “no, nothing is as good…”

“I have a feeling we’re going to fuck ourselves up here,” he pauses, taking the wrapper of the condom between his teeth and tearing it. Hand rolling it over his length— his teeth sucking his bottom lip between them at the sensitivity. His nose sighs out a breath after a moment, glancing back over to you, continuing on from what he was saying a moment prior, “tha’ no matter how hard we try we’re always gonna want this.”

His hands gesture between the two of you, and despite how many problems that idea alone could spell you, you nod feverishly, “I’ll have it… I’ll take it that way if it means I get to have you.”

With that, he’s stepping forward and taking the space between your thighs, “guess the damage is already done, anyway.”

His breath is laboured as he pulls your ass forward, cock pressed against your core.

“You tell me baby,” Harry sighs out, leaning his body over yours again from where he stands at the edge of the bed, lips grazing your cheek in a soft but heated movement, “tell me just how you want it.”

There’s an element of tenderness and care in the way the hushed words fan warmly across your face. Intimate with the way the two of you are pressed together… almost as close as you can get. One step away from being two halves that form some kind of messy, beautiful whole.

Your hands embrace the moment, sliding between your chests to cradle his jaw. A tiny laugh coming from you as his gaze flickers down to your breasts, and how they’ve pushed together from your arms. As a silent acknowledgment of your giggling at him, he rolls his eyes in faux annoyance.

And oh god, he is beautiful.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Plain and simple, the words come from your hushed voice, “Want you just like this, H.”

His lips part, looking at you.

“Want you close, just want you to fuck me.”

And how could he ever say no to that.

A hand wrapping around his cock, he carefully lines himself up with you, leaning back to kiss you as he slowly, so very slowly, pushes into you.

There’s a gasp that immediately comes from you, and a moan that rumbles from him. Shared between the fraction of space between your lips, opened both in shock and pleasure.

“Fucking hell—“ his voice is so deep as he leans his forehead to yours, hair messily cascading over it, “so tight ‘round me.”

“Harry— f— shit…” you can’t even complete a sentence, even with the litany of profanities that are echoing in the chambers of your head.

“That feel good?” He asks, hand coming to your waist as he slides further into you, finally reaching the thick middle of his cock.

“Mmm…” only able to nod, your hips are rolling on their own accord now. The slight pinch of him stretching you out, paired with that pleasurable fullness that neither of your fingers could come close to.

His body straightens up at the buck of your cunt against him, “D—fuck—dontfuckingmove—“

It feels like all the blood in his body has deviated in two directions. Firstly, into his head, making him feel so lightheaded the room is nearly slanted. And secondly, straight to his cock, pulsing inside of you so hard you can feel it.

You moan at the sensation, and at the rough clamp of his fingers around your hips— attempting to still them, “baby, don’t… just— just need a moment, or I’m gonna come before I can even ruin you…”

“Already ruined,” you pant, eyes coming to his as sweat starts to dampen your skin— a light sheen over your glowy complexion.

“So fucking filthy.” He mutters, looking down between the two of you.

His cock half pushed inside you he’s certain is the best view he’s ever seen. Better than any view from the top of a bridge, a mountain, or any other landmark in the world.

Your swollen, glistening cunt wrapped around him, already leaking arousal more arousal now he’s got his cock in you. Reacting as you’ve never been touched before.

Slowly, he manages to get himself fully inside of you, and is starting to make small thrusts— hips gently hitting against yours as he draws in and out of you. A low, intense groan escaping him with each movement. And it’s good to know it feels just as insane for him as it does for you, because right now— even with just his length rutting at such a gradual pace inside of you, you’re already melting.

Every inch of your body is tingling as his name comes from your lips in the form of a desperate moan, “Harry….”

A harder thrust, and your hands are wringing the white comforter as you legs wrap tighter around his middle.

He wants to imprint the shape of your body on this duvet, and frame the scrunches from your curled fists like art pieces. Just to know that what he did to you, and how it made you feel was entirely real. Not something he dreamed up. That the words leaving your lips are no figment of depraved imagination.

“I'm so fucking wet… I’m sorry— I'm making a mess.” You whine, body shaking. You feel out of control, every reaction coming from your body that of a primal instinct you can't wrap any element of authority over.

The sweet cadence of your voice as you shift beneath him... that in itself makes him feel like if he blinks, he’s suddenly going to wake up. Alone in a hotel room, in need of a cold, cold shower. Making his head spin, and it effortlessly swindles his sense of reality from him.

His hands splay on your hips, the hint of possessive nature in him you felt as they coil and tighten around the skin there. Anchoring where you lay as he cements himself in reality.

“No baby—“ he scolds at your apology, “y'dont 'ave to apologise. Being such a good girl f’me… feel you clenching me so hard already.”

An unbridled moan tears from your chest as he takes it upon himself to pull almost all the way out of your cunt, and then swiftly drive back into you.

“Fuckkk!” It’s a high pitched moan, the exact thing he wants to hear more of, even though the two of you should be trying a lot harder to be quiet. It still manages drags out a groan of him in response.

“Have to— shittt… have to be quiet darling…” he reminds, head tossing back as he suddenly picks up the pace between your legs.

“Feels so good, H… your cock is filling me up feels so fucking good—“

“N’ya takin’ it so bloody well,” he slaps lightly at your ass, suddenly grabbing it to cant your hips upward, “never been fucked this good, have you?”

In truth, you haven't. Never has it felt like every nerve-ending on your body is tingling, and like any more from him and you would simply break.

“N-no, Harry.” your head physically shakes, arms using any strength you have left to come behind you, and prop yourself up onto your elbows. Desperately, you want to see him inside of you, and what he's done to you.

He smirks at this, watching your eyes meet where he's stretching you out between your legs. The way your eyes flutter shut and roll back just at the sight. A visual accompanying the feeling is almost too much for you to process.

"Tha's it baby, take a look... see what I'm doing, how my cock is making y'feel so good."

A clench around his cock, and he grunts with another deeper thrust into you. Its sudden and abundantly clear that he’s starting to loose himself in you, unable to stop his mouth from spewing every dirty thing his brain produces, “C'mon, love. Beg me for it.”

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop.”

Your core is fluttering around him now, succinctly timed to each press of his cock, “Harry—“

The words however don’t come, only whines and moans as his cock pushes deeper into you with each stroke.

“Don’t make me get rough.” His tone is a sweet contradiction to his words, and he only juxtaposes them further with the feather-like touch of his fingers against your breast, "Or is that what my girl wants, wants me to get rough? Use you a little. Let me be selfish with this pussy and take it how I want.”

Curling his fingers around your breast, he squeezes gently, making you bite down on your lip to stifle the cry that was threatening to come out.

“Rough, be rough… can take it.” You pant out, arms giving out again as your back hits the mattress. Unable to support your weight, but still managing to reach up and tug his face to yours. He folds his body over yours to comply with the pull of your hands. Chest to chest, his cock is starting to slam harder into you, deeper— hitting places you were unaware of as his pelvis stimulates your clit from this new angle.

Turning to mush, the moans are bubbling out faster than you’re able to hold them back, your mouth resting parted against his cheekbone. His ears hearing each and every sound with complete pleasure.

“Shh, such a loud girl.” He says, but its hardly a scold or instruction to quieten down. It speaks more like an invitation, to let him hear more of you, no matter the consequences it could bring after the fact.

Infact, his own voice is beginning to sound strained, like another rough clench of your cunt and he's would to come straight into the condom wrapped around his cock.

You want him to come desperately. Your body perhaps wants it even more— doing things to tip him closer and closer to the edge you're both teetering on without even consciously noticing it.

Legs tightening around his waist, arms holding him as close as physically possible, nails clawing at the firm muscles of his back. As if there were a way to fuse the two of your frames together.

“God… it’s so fucking good… I feel so good.”

“Pretty girl, about to come all over my cock." He grinds out, feeling you pulse around his length, "About to wake the whole floor up, aren't you?"

The sound of him fucking you is enough— each slide of himself into your slick arousal that’s soaked both your cunt and his cock is louder than the next. But god, oh god, its hand that slowly wraps around the column of your neck that completely undoes you.

He doesn't press down, the touch is actually quite tender. But even the semblance of control it represents in your mind rips a moan from you as your core tightens, a hot budding sensation in the pit of your stomach. His slender fingers gliding up slowly— a stark contrast to the pace he's taking between your legs— thumb stroking the hook of your jaw with just a tad more pressure behind it.

Your impending orgasm feels like a pot that is just about to boil over the edge. It's making your whole body shake, "Sh— Shit! Harryyy, im gonna—"

"Mhm, baby, it's okay, i know," He whispers hoarsly into your ear, "Dont worry, y'can come, let it all go around my cock."

"Ohh— Oh god!" Your syllables draw out as you moan, eyes screwing shut as suddenly all the pressure between your hips explodes, "come with me."

The plea spills from your lips as your body clenches around him, making him moan with you. In an instant response to your words, you feel his thrusts turn messy and harsh inside you. Your name a loud drawn out whine that echoes around the room as he gives into your ask without a single question.

The two of your moan completely in sync as a shared blanket of ecstasy and euphoria casts over you both. The moment maybe lasted a minute, or really no more than two. But it felt endless, as if time and reality ceased to exist when you both finished with each other. His cock released into the condom, but his thighs stuttered against yours either way, as if he were filling your cunt with his orgasm. A groan rattling from him when your legs wrapped tighter around him, pulling him flush to you. You know he knows that's exactly what you were wishing were happening right now. Playing along with it to satiate the sick craving for it within you as you still pulsated around his length.

Expletive's are the only things coming from your mouths other than whines. Your orgasms gradually subsiding from the heated high that was all consuming to a low hum that lingers in your bones. Still, you're holding his hips to yours as if to keep him inside of you.

Logistically, a condom was the appropriate thing to do for first and very unplanned time together, but of course right now you wish otherwise.

"Fuckkk, dirty girl," He growls out finally, pressing a hot kiss to your smiling mouth, "Acting like im filling you up?"

Hand sliding up to your cup your jaw fully now, he cranes his thumb out and is pulling on your lip, waiting for your brain to slowly start working enough to generate a sensical reply.

"Is that wrong?"

"Fuck, no. it's so hot." His voice is low as he kisses you again, letting your mouths work against each other again in a sensual kiss.

"Can't help it, H," You try to justify anyways, "cock feels so good inside me, was wishing I got your come..."

“Didn’t know you wanted it angel,” he whispers in a pant.

“Mhm, neither,” you hum against his mouth, “till I just realised how good it made me feel imagining your finishing inside of me.”

"Gonna make me hard again..." He sighs out with a shake of his head, "'Nother night baby, can fill you up anywhere y'like."

Anywhere. God.

Images of his cock filling your mouth makes you shudder with need. A thing you are keenly interested in trying… and since clearly he’s insinuating this could happen again…

"Want this again?" You ask, a slightly serious tone taking over your voice as he slowly peels off you, feeling your legs loosen from around him as his cock softens.

A smile blossoms on his lips at the way your big eyes gaze up to him, "Again, and again."

"If it wasn't obvious already, love."

A blush was conjuring on your cheeks out of nowhere, "I— Okay... good. Because I do too."

"Who knows—" He begins, pausing with a slight wince as he slides out of you. There’s a lull in what he was saying for a moment, when he leans down to kiss your cheek, walking over to a bin to dispose of the used condom that was just wrapped over him.

He also goes and grabs the two take away cups from the counter, wasting no more time before coming back to you. Finally resuming his prior conversation, “Drink this and then maybe we can squeeze another round in before we have t'sneak you back to your room."

"Think we woke anyone?" You giggle, sitting up to take the cup from his hand thats gestured out to you.

"Wouldn't rule it out." He snorts, "we can worry about what lie we'll tell later, if anyone asks."

"But," he takes a small sip from his cup, still staring at you, "either way, right now, i dont care."

"I want you." His voice is certain, "So, rest of tha' is irrelevant to me."

"C'mere," Hand wrapping around his bicep, pulling him onto the bed with you. The mattress sinks with his weight on top of it, his firm frame that was only just on top of you moments before... You lean forward and peck his mouth with yours. One he doesn't want to end as soon as it does, his mouth chasing yours as you pull back far too soon for his liking. Clearly, you're in the same boat as him, unable to find it in yourself to care about anything other than him. That in this very moment as you have him, real and in front of you, he is yours. "Fuck, then. Lets just do it."

"Think we already did, love." He chuckles, letting the innuendo come out with a rasp. Unbelievable, he is.

You can only shake your head, suppressing a grin as you bring the once-hot hot chocolate to your lips. The liquid is lukewarm at best, but somehow nothing has ever tasted better— except maybe his mouth.

———

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed, this has been in the works in my drafts for SO long. pls let me know what you think! ily, thank you for your support and hopefully will post some more writing soon lovelies🤍

[inappropriatestork]

It turned out I could not resist temptation and ended up seeing Les Mis again while it was nearby(ish), in Charlotte this time.

I don't have that much rambling to do as it was more or less the same as it was 3 weeks ago, but anyway.

I went by myself, which was new, but not bad. Since I didn't have to buy anyone else a ticket or worry about making anyone else pay too much, I splurged and got myself an orchestra seat, which I've never done before, and quite close - about six rows from the stage, though pretty far to the right.

So that made it a slightly different experience. It's cool to be close enough to see expressions and details and acting. The older man next to me kept sniffling and wiping his eyes, particularly when people died (which is a lot in Les Mis, lol). I don't usually cry but it is a lot more emotionally impactful from that close up.

I bought an overpriced cocktail called Drink With Me, lol. Blumenthal always seems to do show themed cocktails for musicals, which is fun. When my mom and I saw Mamma Mia we got Dancing Queens. Tonight they had Drink With Me and a non-alcoholic one called Castle on a Cloud.

Same cast as last time, except a different Fantine and a different Gavroche and Bishop. Still not the regular tour Fantine, but a different understudy than Columbia - Nicole Fragala.

Now I like Fantine and I Dreamed A Dream, but tbh I'm not usually that bothered about who plays her (unlike, say, Javert and Grantaire and Enjolras, where I tend to analyze every detail of their performance). I've never seen a bad Fantine in person, but also never one that blew me away or particularly stood out from the others. But this one was really good.

A bit like when we saw Randy Jeter as Valjean, I was like "whoa, she's good" from her first line or two and then she killed I Dreamed A Dream. I can't explain particularly why, but her voice was incredible. Maybe just being close enough to see her helped her make more impression but IDK, she was fantastic.

I was also even more impressed with Mya Rena Hunter's Eponine this time. Delaney Guyer as Cosette is also very good. She comes across as maybe a little young compared to some Cosettes? Maybe it's just her voice, which is a little high - I could see her being very good as Glinda in Wicked.

Nick Cartell was excellent as Valjean again (though admittedly again I was kinda hoping we might get Randy Jeter) and I was even more impressed by Nick Rehberger's Javert.

He might be the best Javert I've seen in person? I did really like Preston Truman Boyd last year. But I think Rehberger might be better. From close up he looked a bit young in the Toulon/Montreuil scenes, but once it moved to Paris he had some gray in his hair and beard and looked the part perfectly. His voice is perfect, deep and a little bit gruff and growly and a lot of emotion. His Javert's Soliloquy was amazing. (Also his bitter laugh when he sang "the man of mercy comes again and talks of justice" was an excellent touch.)

(Also, I can't recall for sure but in Columbia by the post-barricade and Soliloquy scenes it looked like his hair was partly coming out of its queue, but wasn't fully down (at least from a distance) while tonight it was fully loose and hmm YES. I cannot explain my whole Thing for Javert in general (except that it is somehow Michael Ball's fault) but I am very here for Javert with his hair loose.)

(Also, before that point it was tied back with a burgundy/darkish red ribbon, which seems a surprisingly colorful choice for Javert, lol.)

Not to pick on a kid, but tonight's Gavroche was considerably better than the one in Columbia. That one (left my playbill in the car and can't be bothered to find my lobby sign picture from that show) seemed super young, and kind of seemed like he had memorized the lines but didn't fully grasp the meaning and didn't give them a lot of personality. Tonight's was Jackson Parker Gill who got Gavroche's sass and cheekiness spot on.

And of course: the day may come (though I doubt it) when I do not rave about Kyle Adams' Grantaire, but it is not this day. He remains incredible. Even more so from close up. It's a little harder to obsessively watch one person in the crowded Amis scenes from close up because when you're level with the stage they often block each other from view, but I was on the side where Grantaire often hangs out and I tend to spend all the Amis scenes watching him. Every time I pick up new little details.

Still don't like how they do Grantaire's verse of Drink With Me. I think it works better when at least the last two lines are addressed directly to Enjolras (or at least somewhat, rather than to everyone in general, or at least if Enjolras seems to be paying attention!). And I do prefer an Enjolras who shows a little sympathy. From up close Enjolras' reaction seemed even more outright hostile, not just dismissive, and Grantaire's agony was all the more heartbreaking when I could see his face as he retreated to his corner and clung to Gavroche.

Again I noticed there was a whole considerable kerfuffle made of bringing a struggling Javert onstage just after Eponine's death. Even from up close I'm still not quite sure how to read it. It did seem like there was a moment where it affected Javert and he stopped struggling and coldly ignoring everything going on and kind of froze, watching Marius and Gavroche and the others mourning her, bowed his head a little, and he might have kind of nodded at Enjolras briefly before quickly going back to his coldly ignoring everything pose.

I like that Valjean releasing Javert in the alley starts with Javert kneeling and Valjean having to bend low over him. Because...Reasons. (Like...Valjean walked him out there, he didn't need to fall to his knees...) (Valjean throwing Javert against the wall here was also good.)

(Also speaking of that scene, a lady somewhere in the front couple of rows shrieked when Valjean fired his gun into the air after releasing Javert, lol.)

I noticed some minor details I haven't before - like after A Heart Full of Love but before One Day More (I think while Eponine is singing her bit at the end of Heart Full of Love?) you can see Valjean and Cosette talking/arguing somewhat (presumably about going away) on her little balcony.

And an interesting moment when Marius is talking to Thenardier at the wedding and Cosette is dancing with the guests (I've never really paid attention to what she's doing in this scene, I guess), Mme Thenardier dances along between the rows of dancers and Cosette sort of recoils from her as if perhaps she recognized her from her childhood.

Anyway. It's 2am so I'm off to bed.

[amysgiantbees]

The Eclipse

Thoughts as I go, spoilers...

Currently studying to become a primary school teacher. So I'm living for the way this show advocates for akonga voices. As well as how strict discipline and authoritarianism in schools negatively impacts students ability to stand up for themselves or speak up in other areas of their lives. Also, the way tradition and a lack of flexibility is directly tied to conservatism and bigotry. You can't have true equity and the level of control authoritarian regimes desire. I'm living for it engaging with Children's Rights as dictated by the UN.

Love, LOVE, LOOOOOOVE libraries being a part of my anti-establishment media.

I love teacher Sani and her dilemma, which I'm learning about ATM, of having a duty to students but not being able to fix everything, or even most things in their lives. Also, her having to deal with the dilemma of what if someone else's teaching style is technically working but fundamentally goes against what you believe teaching should be. What to do if your school doesn't support the students. She did loose several points at the end by outing Chadok and hanging out with under aged children on a beach, without their parents, while they drunk alcohol. But otherwise loved her.

*T&C Obviously enthusiastic consent is key in real life. I love Aye and Akk's dynamic. It works so well narratively. Usually when the dynamic is A is outwardly very not into it and B is aggressively trying to get with them I find it a bit uncomfortable and un-engaging. Not necessarily because it's problematic. More so I usually don't feel compelled by the couple at that point. Because B feels like they might as well be pursuing a table with how little they're getting back. But here, there is that back and forth even if Akk is in denial. Because it's never a simple full stop no. It''s actually never a no. He avoids, he changes the subject, he yearns openly without saying anything. Which builds a compelling dynamic between the two. Between Aye's vibrant, open, confident personality and the layers of lies Akk's built for himself and the other side of him that he hardly feels he can show anyone. There is push and pull instead of push and stop between them.

Love how when Khan and Wat sparred they almost looked like they were dancing together for a second.

I get that the plot has to happen but I just find it funny how lax the school nurse is. I went to a private school like this (admittedly not in Thailand) and the nurse watched you regularly to make sure you were sick. You certainly didn't have friends visiting. I don't really mind the inconsistency, I just find it funny.

God not only is this hitting me as a future teacher but it's also reminding me of everything I hated at my one year at private school. Expensive uniforms. Being forced to wear blazers even when it's hot. The staff feeling more comfortable being homophobic and sexist (as well as the straight forwardly homophobic policy that same sex couples couldn't attend the ball). The principle caring more about reputation than the students (to the point that when a mental health speaker was going to come to school he made us submit questions before hand so we "wouldn't embarrass the school"). Teachers never letting you off the clock even when school is over, insisting you still follow the rules and are still representing the school. Private schools are miserable.

I feel like a key theme of this show is understanding. It was Dika's ethos to be understanding. Chadok's lack of understanding of his depression contributed to Dika's death. Ayan is endlessly understanding. To the point that he almost becomes a mini-Dika. With Akk, Khan, and Thua all feeling comfortable despite their initial suspicions confiding in him.

Coming from NZ which has an appalling high rate of suicide in youth I love how mental health is explored in this. I love how Ayan is able to recognise Akk's depression and mental decline from his own mental health issues and time with his uncle. How that isn't a weakness in this regard but something that allows him the insight to give Akk the space and support he requires. I love how seriously school pressures are taken in the narrative.

I would have liked an apology from Thua for outing Akk. As well an apology for blaming him for the curse, since he'd been continuing it too. It was such an uncalled for move and more importantly felt like it betrayed his character. He wanted truth apparently, so he should have come out about being responsible for doing some of the curse and then blamed the rest on Chadok. That would have made more sense with what info he had from his step-dad. Then Akk could have come out about what he'd done of his own accord to protect Chadok since he was still brain washed. He should not have brought up Akk and Ayan. It felt like his character genuinely did it not out of true character driven motivations but for the plot. He was fine with Khan keeping their relationship a secret so it felt enormously hypocritical and unlike him.

It made me laugh a lot in the moment but in hindsight I'm not sure the way teacher Chadok quit and him hugging the principle worked. It's quite clear this is systemic abuse that is mainly being perpetuated by the principle. I could understand if Chadok still hadn't quite come to resent her fully yet. But even if he was still in denial about her abuse and manipulation him hugging her shouldn't have been played for laughs. It should have been framed as sad and a bit pathetic. This comedic tone feels like it's tied to the luke-warm apology he gives Akk and Ayan. It felt like the narrative wanted to redeem his story and end it on a positive note that he hadn't earned. So all his interactions suddenly started having a lighter or less antagonistic tone towards the end.

It felt like the show was missing an episode. I didn't believe that the principle would ever get rid of Suppalo's rules. I wanted there to be a proper moment of understanding between Thua and his step-father. I would of liked to see Namo apologise to the 3 J's for his homophobia and burning their stuff. I couldn't get on board with him being a prefect with his behaviour still being unresolved.

Ideally I would of had the last or second to last episode be the parents of all the kids coming together and forcing the principle to resign. Maybe Chadok and Thua's step-father organise it as a way for Chadok to start to redeem himself. There Chadok would testify to all the ways the principle is violating the Children's Act and would quit more dramatically, and less amicably there. Some parents would still like Suppalo's rules so Teacher Waree would be instated as principle since she seems to be a good in-between. Maybe they don't fire the judo teacher despite his homophobia. But Sani gets promoted to head of the Student Union so there's balance. It's not a perfect ending, there'll be work for the three J's club to do in the future, but the school is realistically moving forward.

Then maybe Thua and his step-father have a moment where they come to an understanding and seem to get each other finally. His step-father could tell him that he's glad he's standing up for himself but that after bottling it up for so long (if we keep his outing as much as I don't like it) he went too far and needs to apologise. So he apologises to Akk and Ayan. We then have Chadok do a much more serious apology to Ayan, Akk, and Ayan's mother. There he'd state that he's going to have a brake from teaching and get some therapy himself.

Skyy2

Again, I'm okay with something being problematic, but it's enormously out of place for a story that deals with adult manipulation and the way adults abuse power to bring up potential borderline grooming. Glad that the brief mention of it was all that happened for Wat and Sami. He has family troubles, she quite clearly should post-graduation fill the role of a big supportive sister.

I get that plot needs to happen but it's very strange for a story that is so mental health focussed to have for their fun silly special such a mean prank. Ayan brought Akk to tears and upset him for days with his lies for a surprise that was not worth it. Not that the song wasn't lovely, it was great, but I don't think that's worth days of manipulation. It would have made the episode less exciting but it really feels more like a "I forgot your birthday present" level of prank not I forgot your birthday and keep dismissing your feelings about it. It was just uncomfortable. I can't imagine pranking any of my mentally ill friends like this or even my non-mentally ill friends. I just didn't feel like it was worth the pay off. Especially since there was a whole, we're going to be long distance for several years angst plot to do instead.

[centrally-unplanned]

I think you can label this a version of the gish gallop, it isn't an exact match but essentially the rhetoric is hoping the "laundry list" of points will make you accept them wholesale. I myself call this Argument Smuggling, bundling bad arguments after good ones so you miss them, but it isn't a standard term.

(I agree that "just wrong on the facts" is fine, but that is true for a bunch of logical fallacies - that term is not restricted to errors of inference/reasoning, even if it was maybe intended to be)

Anyway, ~*object level side rant pivot time*~:

The politics of Howl's Moving Castle being motivated Miyazaki's outrage at the 2003 Iraq War

I'm not a Ghibi Expert like I am with Gainax or anything, but I do have some thoughts on this. The source everyone is citing is a 2005 interview Miyazaki did with Newsweek on Howl's US release:

Gordon: Were you surprised "Spirited" won an Oscar? Miyazaki: Actually, your country had just started the war against Iraq, and I had a great deal of rage about that. So I felt some hesitation about the award. In fact, I had just started to make "Howl's Moving Castle," so the film is profoundly affected by the war in Iraq.

So yeah, it is there, he even says profound. Most people in the West take this point as being quite direct, because the book doesn't really have a war subplot - the film adds that in. So the idea is that the whole war plot is Iraq War commentary.

But let's dissect that a little bit - for one, note that this question starts off being about Spirited Away, and his Oscar for that, etc, so it is a bit of afterthought comment. And I do think this has some looseness in relation to the timeline of the film?

Because Howl's Moving Castle began production in 2000, and the script was completed by 2001... with Mamoru Hosada to direct (and screenplay by Reiko Yoshida). Then there was Big Drama that no one talks a lot about, and Hosada left, and so Miyazaki picks up the film in 2002, script is done before the end of the year ("But Ash the English Wiki says production resumed in February 2003!" Yeah they are confusing animation beginning with production beginning, those aren't the same thing). And while I don't have a copy of that original script/storyboards, what we have suggests the war plot was in that first Yoshida draft! And while I am not saying you couldn't see the Iraq War coming in 2002, and ofc the script was edited during production, still - the war hadn't started yet!

Meanwhile, if you go back to that interview, he says this right before:

I think only about my Japanese audience when I make a film. Of course, I'm delighted that people from other countries also enjoy my films. But I try not to think of this as an international business. [Laughs] Somewhere my producer is probably saying the exact opposite.

Which isn't exactly an international-politics lens. And then he spends several paragraphs talking about the film's themes of aging and stuff, which he seems far more animated about. And in Japanese language commentary that is the kind of commentary you see - here is Miyazaki raging about interviews for not understanding the film, but it is all about the romance/aging stuff.

In fact, I can't find a single interview in Japanese where Miyazaki directly mentions Iraq in relation to Howl. I went through everything in Turning Point, only mentions are footnotes about other authors or some other person mentioning it (or one off-hand comment with an American in English again). No google results show anything, it is never mentioned on the Japanese Wikipedia page. He admittedly didn't do a ton for this movie, I think he had burnout after the Mononoke-Spirited Away full court press. But still, if it was a big theme I think it would have come up more.

And you really don't need a special explanation for a Ghibli film to include pacifism themes, right? The guys who made Nausicaa, and Porco Rosso, and Princess Mononoke? It is pretty much their default setting! Miyazaki does it every chance he gets.

So I think the above comment is better read as Miyazaki flexing to his US audience and talking about stuff relevant to them. He certainly was an outspoken opponent of the war, I bet it made "making the film have pacifist themes" more pressing for him. But when I see articles like this:

Or reddit threads where people say this:

Ehhhh, it doesn't really have "commentary" on the Iraq war, and it most certainly is not about the Iraq War - it's about a romance and stuff around aging. And the war plot was probably in there well before any of the Middle East stuff happened. It might have been in there before 9/11 happened.

Also, I know he is being flippant, but still it is funny when smart people are dumbasses - this is the one comment in Turning Point about Iraq:

Around the time of the Iraq War, I even made a slightly conscious effort to create a film that wouldn’t be very successful in the United States. So even though people overseas may speak highly of Japanese animation now, this may be a very temporary phenomenon. It wouldn’t surprise me if Japanese animation is at a peak of popularity now and about to go into decline.

Obviously that last part aged VERY badly but whatever, no fault there - it is that first bit that gets me. He made this comment in 2006. Everyone hated the Iraq War in 2006. And like, you don't sell your Miyazaki film to Joanne and Cleetus in Kentucky, that was never your audience. This guy is out here saying "Green Day's American Idiot could never sell in modern America" fucking lmao.

Is there a coined name for informal fallacy of smuggling a bad point in between good ones? "Motte and Bailey and Motte"

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part 11)

A/N- Okay so this is just a short 2k fill in chapter! It’s kinda cute and kinda sad but it was too long to add to the last chapter, and it doesn’t fit in with the theme of the next chapter (though it sets it up quite nicely!). The next chapter is likely going to be a bit angsty but I promise it’ll have a rewarding ending to it! I hope to have it written and up sooner rather than later but, until then, enjoy this little piece.

Word Count- 2028

The ten minute drive from Baker Street to the Natural History Museum went by in a flash- most of it being spent by Mycroft giving you a mental tour of the building's various rooms and the 'most appropriate route to take'. Though it did also take a minute or two for you to convince him to not get everybody kicked out for a private visit, no matter how many people were there.. Admittedly, you hadn't been to the museum for 6 years or so now- after living so long in London it feels less of a luxury being only round the corner from it- but walking through the doors made you feel like a child again. Entry to the museum was free, but that didn't mean you didn't see Mycroft swiftly pushing a few notes into the donation bin at the front before guiding you forwards. Glancing up, you eyed the blue whale skeleton that hung from the ceiling and frowned. Mycroft caught your look and spoke up.

"Ah yes, Hope has been a relatively recent addition to the museum. She was found dead on an Irish beach back in 1891. It's a rather beautiful marvel to gaze upon, though, large as she is, she doesn't quite fill the hole in my heart that was left after my beloved Dippy was removed." Your eyes scanned the skeleton of the large mammal once more before looking back at Mycroft. "I did try to convince the board to keep the diplodocus somewhere but all attempts were futile. There's only so much force you can put into such a topic without exposing yourself as-"

"As a man who loves dinosaur bones more than he loves people?" Mycroft shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.

"The very thing." Lifting your arm, you rested your hand at the crook of Mycroft's elbow to encourage him to move on.

"When we get home and have dinner we can raise a toast in Dippy's honour.. but for now, my mind's been taken over by that huge statue of Darwin." And the pair of you headed off, your hand very much staying place at Mycroft's arm as you wandered through the rooms- Mycroft more than willing to reel off facts about every deceased animal of history and, more often than not, even impressing the workers with his spiel of facts. Though you were very much enjoying wandering aimlessly through the room of human evolution, you most definitely noticed the pull from the man beside you as he was eager to reach his beloved dino-pals. As you turned the corner into the slightly darkened dinosaur room, you tripped over your feet slightly as you felt Mycroft stop in his tracks, his eyes wide and taking everything in. He looked as happy as a boy at Christmas and, quite frankly, it was adorable. You nudged him slightly when he still didn't move. "You okay?"

"Sorry, it just seems as though, no matter how many times I come here, it always feels like the first." He had shaken his head as though to bring his thoughts back to focus before taking a few steps into the gallery and leading you over to the skeletal remains of a Baryonyx. "The name Baryonyx roughly translates to 'Heavy Claw' from the Ancient Greek's 'Barys' meaning heavy and 'onyx' being claw or talon." He spoke, his voice smooth and relaxed as his fingers brushed over the board that announced the name of the creature within the glass. "It was also an excellent swimmer which it would use to its advantage while hunting." You listened to his every word as he spoke, grinning as he excitedly told you how many teeth it had and it's preferred techniques for capturing food before he moved you onto the next one.

"Oh these beauties have always been my favourite." You almost whispered, taking in the sight of the huge triceratops skull. You barely noticed Mycroft's hand shift from his pocket until you felt the heat of his palm against the small of your back, fingers squeezing slightly by your hip as he spoke.

"Mine too. Sherlock used to say they were boring and that we might as well have gone to the zoo to look at rhinos. He ended up spending 5 months trying to prove that the rhinos were descendants from the triceratops and then avoided me for 3 weeks when he realised there was no connection at all."

"That sounds about right. Though I can't imagine Sherlock enjoying it here very much anyway.." Mycroft began to guide you to a small bench just off the side to sit down, still giving you the view of the beautiful dinosaur bones.

"He didn't. When we were much younger he would kick off until Mummy and Father would tell us it's time to go and I had to go with them.. Then as we got a little older and Sherlock properly found his legs, he would simply run from the doors round to the science museum. Of course mummy and father had to follow him as he was so young, but one time I decided to stay here. They didn't realise I hadn't followed them until it was time to go home 5 hours later." Mycroft spoke quietly.

"Found his legs? That's at, what, four? Five? How young were you?"

"I was 9 the first time, I think." Now, Mycroft, you don't just 'think'; you know. Your hand moved to rest above his own on his knee, brushing your thumb fondly over his knuckles. "But it isn't all bad. Some of my best days as a child were spent here, and a lot of the staff were very kind and would teach me extra facts that weren't displayed. There was one gentleman who even gave me his own copies of some books that they had here. I'd wander the whole museum in time but I always found myself back here on this bench just.. watching. This room felt more like home than my very house sometimes. It was the room where I could escape the real world and find peace. Eventually Mummy, Father and Sherlock stopped bothering with the visits because Sherlock found the science museum boring after he'd prove them wrong on something each time, but I'd still pop back in on occasion without them.. Coming to think about it, I've never actually brought anybody here with me at all." You squeezed at his fingers and settled back into the bench.

"Well I am incredibly glad that I found out about your little interest, and I feel even more honoured that you let me come here with you." You beamed. And it was the truth. Evidently, this little museum meant much more to Mycroft than you could have ever imagined and it warmed your heart to know that he trusted you to see him nerd out over some bones.

"Eventually I used this very building as the scaffolding to build my mind palace. My files on Sherlock, very appropriately, are nestled in the human biology room. But most people's information is either stored in the entrance, where Dippy remains over Hope, might I add, or in a few of the rooms I find less interesting.." You didn't have to ask to know he was referencing 'that room with all the bloody rocks'. "I love most of the galleries too much to taint them with information on people that aren't important. The likes of Gregory and Doctor Watson now reside in Hintze Hall as the years have passed." His eyes remained focused in front of him, unblinking, as though he was wandering the very halls at that moment.

"And where.. where are my files?" You had to ask, really. Since he was on the subject anyway. "If you've put them in the marine reptiles room when you know I'm terrified of the ocean I shall never forgive you." Mycroft's hand flipped beneath yours so the pads of your fingers brushed before he blinked and looked over to you, a small smile on his face.

"Here." Oh. Well that's.. something. You shifted to give him a quick kiss on his cheek, knowing he wasn't overly fond of PDA and tugged him to stand.

"And on that note, I think we should go and grab some lunch before you make me cry in front of the dinosaurs."

---

After lunch, you both spent a few more hours walking from room to room (and of course circling round to the dinosaur gallery again) before you decided to call it a day at 4pm. Before departing, you headed towards the toilets that happened to be beside the little gift shop and you had a browse while Mycroft was occupied. Grinning, you picked up a deep blue plush triceratops and stroked a finger across its back. It was just small enough that, after purchasing, you could hide the little guy in the loose fabric of the sweatshirt you wore, acting innocent as you waited back outside near the wall. After going to the bathroom yourself, the pair of you headed outside where a car was waiting for you. Sliding in the back seat, you couldn't contain your little gift anymore.

"Surprise!" You laughed, producing the small toy from under your clothes and into the hands of the man beside you. He studied it briefly before beginning to laugh himself as he reached into his inner pocket and handed you the matching dinosaur, though purple in colour. "God, we're such children aren't we?" You noted as you swapped plushie companions, each of you brushing a finger on its nose as though it were a small pet. "I daren't think what your colleagues would say if they knew you were now the proud owner of a baby triceratops teddy that's.." You glanced at the tag. "..Suitable for children aged 12 months plus!"

"Probably nothing as bad as if they realised said triceratops was going to take proud placement on my desk at home." He beamed. "Thank you, this really does mean a great deal to me." You knew he wasn't just talking about the toy that rolled around his long fingers and you shifted to rest your head lightly on his shoulder.

"We can come back any time. I, for one, know I'll never get bored of looking through the galleries.. Or I'll never get bored of watching you light up as we walk through said galleries. Either or works, really." He hummed in response, his emotions slightly overwhelmed from the day and its revelations into his past. "Plus there were about 10 other little dinos in the shop and I've always been one to want a full collection.. so, if we pace ourselves, that's at least 10 more trips."

"13.. Although that could be tripled if we take the colour variations into account."

"Oh, of course! Can't half-arse a collection or it's just pointless."

"I concur."

"That's settled then. Almost 40 more trips to finish off our collection.. And thennnn we can move onto the figurines." Mycroft let out a laugh beside you and tilted to rest his head atop yours for the remainder of the journey home.

---

The evening between you was shared over a meal (where, as promised, a small toast was made to the memory of Sir Dippy) before Mycroft sat to finish the papers for Greg. Eventually you collapsed into bed at a relatively reasonable time, groaning at the throbbing in your legs from the day's adventure before finally slipping into rest.

---

The next day passed relatively quickly. The morning was spent visiting Greg in his office to drop off the papers before the pair of you took a small stroll through the streets of London. Eventually, Mycroft and yourself even got a text message from Sherlock giving a (albeit half-arsed) apology for his behaviour the day before and the rest of the day was spent in bliss. That was until exactly 17 minutes after you got back home when Mycroft's mobile began to ring. He swallowed deeply, showing you the caller ID of the person he had been dreading to speak to post-Eurus and answering.

"Ah, yes.. Hello, Mummy."

[purgemarchlockdown]

I didnt expect to see another Utena fan!

While Muu’s queerness is very much at the moment speculation I do think the cycle aspect of her characterization is pretty prevelant, with her hourglass motif and what not. Even if she isnt queer the idea of healthy relationships that cant grow is in her story so I think it works out!

Admittedly I play a bit loose with Utena’s themes and symbolism here, the aspect of queerness isn’t as prevelant in Milgram’s themes (even though I think its there) so I didn’t write much about it. Though I have seen very good readings of Mahiru as queer (I’m personally fond of Aro Mahiru) from what I can tell though Mahiru seems very sheltered (her parents seemed to have protected her a lot and she went to an all girls school and said she didnt have much experience with love as a result)

Honestly with Mahiru’s naiviety, romanticization of horrid events, dedication to an unhealthy ideal and tendancy to push her ideals onto people under the assumption that’s what they want, she feels vaguely Utena Tenjou adjacent which is surprising to me. I’m a bit tired at the moment though so take that with a grain of salt.

I ALWAYS FORGET THEIR 14! Nanami is 13, they are a Year Apart. This fucks me up severly. I do think it does have a part in their story and the idea of the Rose Bride. The Powerless of being a Child and the Power of being an Adult are just pretty present in Utena, with the car symbolism and with what’s going on with Akio. I kinda wish I mentioned that more now thinking about it…

Thanks for reading! Im so very Normal about both these media.

Milgram and The Rose Bride

(CWs: Child Abuse, Cults, Unhealthy Relationships, Bullying, Sexism, Discussions of Ownership in the context of Marriage, minor mentions of sexual abuse and minor mentions of sexual abuse in relation to Minors)

(Spoilers for Utena!)

Alright so, since I'm putting this on the Milgram blog, most likely most people who see this don't know what the Rose Bride is and what that means so lets answer that question.

The Rose Bride is a concept in the 90s Psychological Shoujo Anime Revolutionary Girl Utena, in which the main premise is that a bunch of highschoolers are dueling for marriage (ownership) of the Rose Bride so that they can revolutionize the world.

Now, the thing is, The Rose Bride is a Real Person, and the implications of her ownership and the environment that Allows for that to happen are explored through the series, and the reason why I'm bringing it up in relation to Milgram is this.

"In the end, all girls are the rose bride."

Let's talk about Mahiru for a bit since her being so focused on romantic love makes it a lot easier to explain what I mean by this.

In T1 we get this interrogation from Mahiru:

T1Q20: What do you think about smoking? I've never smoked before, but I might copy him if who I love smokes.

This is a deeply concerning sentence, Mahiru has just stated that she is willing to do something incredibly physical destructive to herself if the person she loves is doing the same. This connects back to her thoughts on having "matching love."

We fought sometimes, I was happy to get hurt Let's have matching pain, this sickness is pretty bad This is a claim of responsibility From the two of us with matching love

Now, the Rose Bride has to anything the person who is engaged to her tells her to do. The Rose Bride is not allowed any sort of Autonomy or Agency.

(Transcript Link for Utena Scripts)

Touga:  The Rose Bride, cooking? Touga:  You shouldn't do such things as cooking. Touga:  You should only take care of the roses here. Touga:  This birdcage is your territory. Touga:  And you are the beautiful little bird which lives here. Touga:  I want to possess this birdcage, and everything in it.

Touga:  Himemiya Anthy is the Bride of the victor of the Duel. Touga:  While she was engaged to you, the Code required her to obey you.

I Love You:

What am I supposed to do now? If you won’t tell me, I can’t be me

Mahiru is also probably the most traditionally feminine out of the entire female cast. With her priorities being love, romance, and having children.

(Mahiru Interrogation)

T2Q1: What's your opinion on Marriage? Mahiru: It's something I really dream of.

T2Q10: Do you like children? Mahiru: Yup. I always dreamed of having the older being a girl, and the younger being a boy.

Mahiru is willing to do Anything for love, even if it gets her hurt in the process. That's what she's Supposed to want, that's what is Supposed to bring her joy, that's what is Supposed to bring everyone joy. (Mahiru T1 VD)

Es: I honestly have no interest in those matters.  Mahiru: What? No, no. There’s no such thing as that. Being in love is like a landmine. It’ll explode someday, you know? The only thing that differs is whether it happens earlier or later in life. It’ll happen to you too. Even if you don’t have any interest in it now, one day it’ll explode for you as well. All because you’ll have that fateful encounter with your special someone.

Love is what Everyone Wants and if you say you Don't you just haven't found the right person.

Mahiru: Yeah, yeah. You’ll deny it at first. I mean, I was like that as well. Before then, I always admired soap operas and shoujo manga because I thought that they depicted a world different from our own. 

Voice:  Once upon a time... Voice:  ...there was a princess grieving over the deaths of her mother and father. Voice:  Before this princess appeared a prince traveling upon a white horse. Voice:  His appearance gallant, and his smile gentle, the prince enveloped the princess

The amatonormativity in Mahiru's worldview is clear. People are Supposed to fall in love and have the Normal Idealized Heterosexual Romance and there's Nothing Else Outside of That At All.

Mahiru: Yeah, yeah. You’ll deny it at first. I mean, I was like that as well.

Anthy:  But I've been engaged to you, Utena-sama. Utena:  I've told you to stop mentioning stuff like "engagement" and the "Rose Bride." Anthy:  Nevertheless... Utena:  Look, no matter how you look at me, I'm a regular wholesome girl. Utena:  I'm only interested in wholesome boys, not a bride or stuff like that.

And Mahiru does a lot to preserve a "marketable" quality to her actions and behavior. TIHTBILWY is formatted like a magazine, something that is sold and bought by consumers. Erasing the messiness of her relationship or even Romanticizing those qualities to seem appealing.

Giving you love to the point of pulling you down It's just because I still get worried, please forgive me Even when I test you, even the times we do the breakup ritual, Is because I love you

Voice:  but because of the strength of her admiration for the prince, Voice:  the princess made up her mind to become a prince herself! Voice:  But is that really good for her?

The story of the Prince in Utena is one that is a fabrication, it hides and excludes multiple Very Important parts of the story all in the favor of portraying the Ideal Fairytale Heterosexual Romance.

Unlike Utena who chooses to become a "Prince" (which is a concept I'll get into in a bit.) Mahiru is trying to make Herself the Rose Bride. She orientates her life around who she loves, she's willing to accept a lot of abuse for the sake of an Ideal Relationship, she even actively downplays her intelligence and strength! Something that is explored in detail by this post by archivalofsins you should check out.

Now that isn't to say Mahiru isn't a horrible partner. She is, and this is why. Mahiru is Expecting this sort of incredibly idealistic fairytale romance from her partner, an ideal that no person can possibly live up to without harming the people they care about and themselves!

Do you really think you know what love is? If you do, let's just overheat together The things that I only want to say to you, and the things that I want from you Is love

My emotions are out of control, that’s inconvenient? I don’t care!

You can't live up to this and you shouldn't want to! It's an unrealistic and unachievable ideal with a horrific power imbalance to boot! Yet Mahiru is Trying to conform to these ideals, trying to conform to the unrealistic expectations of women and relationships in society, and that's why she's here in the first place.

"He who believes friendship exists is a fool."

So these toxic and unhealthy ideals and expectations are at the core of Mahiru's character and her situation. But there ideals are perpetuated by an environment that promotes this sort of behavior, one that isn't unique to Mahiru's situation.

Muu Kusunoki is a 16 year old teenage girl who is both a victim of bullying and someone who bullies others for her own gain.

She also might of had a homoromantic relationship with her murder victim.

Let’s meet up inside the pain, a place just for me Postmortem makeup to hide my heart, how to solve it is a secret The stabbing of the little devil’s voice, counterattack being a suicide note “I love YOU”

I wonder who that reminds me of.

I'll get into Shiori in a second, but it's important to note that Muu introduces a concept that's present in Mahiru's story but is particularly present in Muu, the concept of the cycle.

Saionji:  No... I was to be the one to rescue her from the coffin this time. Saionji:  No! I am the one who will save her this time. The castle said to contain eternity... Saionji:  the power to revolutionize the world...

The concept of eternity and nostalgia in Utena tends to be depicted as a coffin, one you need to break out of to grow.

Touga:  If the egg's shell does not break, the chick will die without being born. Touga:  We are the chick; the egg is the world. Touga:  If the world's shell does not break, we will die without being born. Touga:  Break the world's shell! Touga-Juri:  For the sake of revolutionizing the world!

The duelists want the Rose Bride so that they can gain the power to revolutionize the world. Who she is does not Matter as much as what she can Give Them.

Now, this idea is particularly present in characters like Shidou and Kotoko who position themselves as saviors, not for the benefit of others but for what they Get out of that arrangement, thematically fitting the concept of the prince.

However, Muu is not the prince, she is not a savior. In fact she always positions herself as the victim, as someone pitiful and weak. (Crying B)

Muu: Hey… Prison guard, when you say “I��… Who are you talking about? Es: [breaking down]  Muu: Prison guard? Es: [stumbles]  Muu: Prison guard. What’s wrong? Prison guard! [shakes Es] Hey! Prison guard! Es: Shut up! Don’t touch me! Muu: [cries] You’re so cruel… I… Even though I was just worried about you… [cries again] I can’t take it anymore. I hate you, prison guard! 

Es pain and breakdown is caused by something Muu said, and yet when Es very sharply tells her not to touch them because their uncomfortable with it. Muu immediately starts crying and talking about how much They got hurt because of what they did, when Es is currently unresponsive due to what she did to them, albeit unintentionally.

Muu needs to to be the victim, After Pain shows all the bad things that happened to her and not Any of the bullying she participated in. It's Not My Fault is a whole song about how everything she did was right actually and that everyone else was wrong.

Now, Muu isn't a master manipulator or anything. She's an impulsive 16 year old. If Muu was a master manipulator she wouldn't be here, would she? She'd be still in school taking the honey up as she was before Rei did whatever she did.

Muu gains power by being pitiful and weak so she'll be loved, and by its' very nature it's self-destructive. She cannot be Happy because if she Was this wouldn't work anymore. She Must be in a worse situation, she must be the victim, or else no one would pity and love her.

I am innocent as everybody desires

Juri: You're just like Shiori... Juri: ...cruelly innocent.

Muu cycles from being "weak and pitiful" to being "queenly and powerful" and tends to hurt herself in the process. This attempt at grabbing power and love through pity Harms Muu, and she seems to even be drowning in a lot of self-hatred and self-pity, and is looking for external validation to confirm that she's "good."

But I guess some of it is my faultMaybe it’s ok as it is I want to feel “alive”, is it ok if I breathe?

Hey, what if If I am a bad girl Don’t hate me. Don’t even try to proof from “After Pain”

And, in an attempt to gain power and control, Muu traps herself in a coffin.

Shiori: This is me, the real me! Shiori: And not the underdog that was living a miserable life in the shadow of the bright shining Juri! Shiori: The real me that surpasses the light. Shiori: Yes, this is the me that controls Juri.

But, it isn't all her fault.

Again, Muu really was bullied, horribly so if were judging by her lyrics in After Pain and the sequences we see in it.

If I was gone, If I had just disappeared I overheard, I found out How much I’m not needed

T1Q4: Is there something you hate? Scary people and ghosts. And right now, school.

Muu isn't lying about this, and Rei isn't fully sympathetic either, she did Hurt Muu and Muu really did want to apologize to her.

T1Q9: Do you have apologetic feelings for who you killed? A: The person who did the wrong thing first should apologize.

Shiori: Juri-san was so kind to me. Shiori: But I thought she was kind to me because she looked down on me, Shiori: and that she had pity on me for being plain and useless. Shiori: That's pathetic! Shiori: So I wanted to change my relationship with Juri-san. Shiori: But what I did with him made me more miserable than before. Shiori: I should have wanted it for myself! Shiori: But now... Shiori: Now I'm on equal terms with her. No, I've won! Shiori: I always had a place in Juri-san's heart. Shiori: I'm the winner! Shiori: What shall I do? I'm so delighted to know my friend's secret I almost can't bear it! Shiori: She suffered alone, looking at my picture in secret... Shiori: That was Juri-san? Poor thing! Shiori: No good! It's still no good! Shiori: How could you look at me like that?!Shiori: Why did it all turn out this way?

The school as a whole is letting a horrible environment of bullying and toxicity be left to rot and fester. You Really Can't create a healthy friendship in a world like that, it just won't let you. If your not friends with someone because you gain something from them, you'll suffer.

Muu: Wow, poor thing,.. I’ll teach you! Friends aren’t like that, you know. Rather than using each other for something, we just get along because we’re comfortable around each other. That’s all. Es: Well, I’m sorry about that. Muu: Haruka-kun is really nice! He accepts anything I say, he listens to anything I tell him. For me, that’s really comfortable. Es: And that’s… “friendship”? Muu: What do you mean? Of course we’re friends! Haruka-kun is happy with it, so it only has benefits for both of us! Es: I, as someone who has no friends, can’t judge, of course, but isn’t that just exploitation? Muu: Exploitation…? Um, I don’t really understand, but… I do help him pick out clothes [in return], and I recently gave him a hairpin I didn’t need anymore as a hand-me-down!

Akio:  But sincerity by itself changes nothing. Akio:  Without power, one finds themself merely depending on others to live.

Jackalope describes this relationship as a "Master-Servant" relationship and it seems like this is the type of friendship Muu is familiar with. She's emulating how her friendships were in school, just with someone else as the servant and her as the master.

T1Q1: What is a friend? A: Someone who properly listens to what I say.

Now this doesn't completely absolve her obviously, what she did was still Very Bad and even though she Breaks the hourglass in her MVs. She doesn't really leave it.

Muu does not want to accept responsibility for her actions, she believes herself to be justified and in the right, even when she has Done Wrong.

This unwillingness to accept when something she did is wrong and the unhealthy environment of Milgram that assigns strict moral value to people's actions and has no nuance in its judgement...leads her back into the cycle she was trapped in.

“A girl who cannot become a princess is doomed to become a witch.”

Now we've tackled the gender roles and horribly toxic cycles and ideals, so, what happens when you Can't work within those confines, or even want to break out of them? Just, hypothetically, if you cannot become a princess (which is everyone because the ideal of a princess is so incredibly unrealistic that anyone who aspires to be it would destroy themselves in the process) or Don't want to be a princess, what happens?

Well.

You become something Other.

Something Evil and Unnatural.

Something that needs to be Punished and Harmed.

So, now, this is where I have to mention that Utena as a show deals with underage sexual abuse, I didn't mention this for the other sections since they were not as relevant to those discussions. However since this section deals with the abuse received by the Rose Bride it feels important to mention.

I will not be referring to it in the context of Amane's due to how we don't have information in the text pointing to Amane being a csa victim. This is for the sake of Tact, as it feels wrong to speculate about it here and I do not feel like I'm the right person to examine this.

It will, again, be mentioned and alluded to, so stay safe and do what's good for your health.

So, Amane Momose is repeatedly dehumanized throughout her story.

This is a consistent theme with her, she is treated as something subhuman and terrifying.

In Purge March, Amane is consistently depicted as scary, threatening, or otherwise evil.

There's even a section in her T2 VD where Amane calls herself "evil," though it is done in a roundabout way while she's talking about Shidou (who I will get to in a bit.)

A: Both pain and illness are trials. According to our teachings, those who run from them are the worst evil there is. That’s one of the four great principles. No matter who you are, that cannot be forgiven. E: What are you…? A: Oh – speaking of which, there is one among the prisoners right now. An evil existence that’s trying to steal people’s trials away from them.

Shadow:  The witch roams this world of darkness even now. Shadow:  Seeking the young and noble, to sacrifice them anew! Shadow:  Surely the light presents an obstacle to the witch, to her dominion over the dark. Shadow:  Beware! Beware! She is still somewhere in this world...

Not only that, but Amane is The Cat, a symbol constantly associated with sin and impurity throughout the MVs with Kazui and Yuno.

And is implied to have actually Been asked if she was human by her parents.

(Amane T1 VD)

Amane: Yes. It is only natural for a person(/human) to apologize to another for breaking a promise. Es: … Amane: Why are you looking so doubtful? Are you not human?

I promise! A good girl that keeps a promise is like, mwah!

Amane is not to be considered human, she's even collared and leashed in her Prisoner design, the medal and bow on her outfits in the MVs being another "collar" of sorts.

Amane Needs to be Restrained and Domesticated or else she'll bring harm to the people around her. She isn't good enough to be a "good girl" and seems to Know This.

Only if, only if, only if I could be a good girl

It's always "I can be a better girl" or "I can be a good girl" and not "I am a good girl," and the line above implies its impossible for her to be one. It's not something she can do.

When she gets punished by her parents its to make her a "better girl," and to "change" her into a "good girl." It is love, for they are not leaving her to die as an animal.

(Amane Interrogations)

T2Q9: What does love mean to you? A: To spread mercy with no limits.

But it’s not scary at all, because it’s love I can really think it’s great. See isn’t it a great thing?

Even though these punishments keep on Almost Killing Her!

It's what she needs to go through to be good! And even if she doesn't even believe its possibly anymore what else can she do? Run? Running away from trials is a sin! One of the worst there is! She can't allow herself to be more sullied than she already is.

Plus she knows this is love, she isn't scared anymore, it's childish to be scared of it.

Akio:  A child like you can't appreciate my ideals. Akio:  The Rose Bride exists because of ideals you don't comprehend.

Plus there's a sort of comfort in it, she knows what happens next. She idealizes Milgram somewhat in T1, believing that it's possible for this world, that resembles her abusive environment so much, could be Good.

Amane: Ah, I am looking forward to it! Seeing whether your judgement will align with that of these higher standards! If that is the case, maybe Milgram would be the right world for us to live in, rather than the outside world! Milgram relies on your judgement, isn’t that right? In that case, you could become the mediator for a far more righteous world!!

There's a comfort in Milgram's strict forgiven/unforgiven verdict system with a (theoretical) possibility of growth! And she later takes comfort in the same religious doctrine that Harmed her when Es does declare her as unforgiven.

If your so used to a situation, even if it harms you, why would you ever want to leave it? It's scarier if you leave it, you don't know what will happen next. At least at home, Amane knows what to do so she can get off a bit longer without getting hurt.

If you become a bad girl, monsters will come out This is the magic that stops that from happening

Akio:  Anthy, the sword. Akio:  That's right. You're a good girl, Anthy.

Amane's suffered for twelve or so years, an eternity trapped in a coffin. A cycle of abuse and pain and horror and fear. Why would she Ever want to leave it when what she's seen of the outside world is so horrible?

Amane: In fact, there have been people who said that to me. I’ve been told things like, “You’re being deceived.” “You can still make it right now.” “You’re crazy.”

People are always positioning themselves as stronger than her, people are always positioning themselves as smarter than her, people are always positioning themselves as Her Prince.

Shidou: I…… I just don’t understand. If everything about MILGRAM is true…… why did a child like you have to become a murderer? Just imagining what sort of circumstances must have led to that, it makes me so sad…… Amane: ……*sigh*. Is that right. I don’t think I’m going to get along with you, Shidou-san. I don’t agree with the fact you refuse to acknowledge that I have my own free will, and that I should be held accountable for my actions, just because I’m a child. I may have only been alive for 12 years, but all the choices I’ve made, even if they weren’t the best ones, were entirely my own. What point is there in you getting sad when I have no regrets myself? ……please give me back my test. It seems you don’t have the concentration levels required to be my teacher. I’m going to get Kotoko-san to teach me instead. Shidou: Amane…… I don’t think that’s true. However smart you may be…… you’re still just a child.

Utena:  Cut it out with that "Rose Bride" or "possession" nonsense. Utena:  That girl is an ordinary girl named Himemiya Anthy! Touga:  Is she? Touga:  Is it true that you're an ordinary girl? Utena:  You don't like it, do you? Utena:  Being the Rose Bride or whatever... Anthy:  I... Utena:  Go ahead, speak your mind! Anthy:  My mind... Utena:  Yeah! Utena:  You hate being treated as the Rose Bride, right? Utena:  Tell him clearly! Anthy:  All right. Anthy:  I hate being treated as the Rose Bride. Utena:  What's so funny?

Amane: You are treating me as a child after all. Because I’m a child, you believe that I must have been brainwashed. It’s not like that. I, too— children, too, understand everything! Please don’t just decide that people must be unhappy.

What she wants doesn't matter! When has it ever mattered? The people who say it does, don't like it when she acts in a manner they don't expect and her parents have made it Very Clear that what she does isn't important to them.

Any sort of happiness she could possibly get tends to come from things that are outside of her cult. And because of that, she isn't supposed to have them, and she is wrong for wanting them in the first place.

And yet...Amane cares so much about having free will and autonomy though, it's her main argument in her T1 VD and her biggest problem with her treatment.

Amane: I see. Then, are the things that I as a twelve-year-old think irrelevant? Are you going to cast aside the feelings that I know I have in this very moment, purely based on the fact that I have not yet lived for a very long time? Judging these things based on someone’s age will not take you very far. Do I, at age twelve, not have my own will?

That's the thing with Amane Momose, she doesn't want to be a "princess."

T2Q13: If you could be reborn, would you still choose to be yourself? A: Obviously.

She wants to stay as her, no matter what. In spite of all of this she doesn't want to be anything else But Her. Even if it gets her hurt.

Amane helped the cat because she wanted to, she saw it hurt and couldn't look away.

Utena:  Hey, save her! Utena:  It's too cruel! Utena:  Save her! Utena:  Save her...

And in the eyes of god, she was wrong for doing so.

Dios:  She can no longer be saved.

’Tis ordained, thou shall follow thine destiny

But again, Amane doesn't want to die.

T1Q12: What is the meaning of life? A: I think it is something you learn for the first time when you look behind yourself when it ends. I do not want to have regrets then, so I live on with all my might.

This was the tipping point of her, how much more is she willing to suffer? How much longer is she willing to stay here? Because she will die, it's not an if, its a when.

So, she decides, to break out of her coffin, and while it is partially due to how she was given a righteous reason to kill her mother. It is a crime that is mainly motivated by self-preservation and hatred.

Amane: Furthermore, isn’t it condescending of you to assume that just because I happen to be a child, I am incapable of hating someone enough to kill them?

Unfortunately for her, the audience isn't as willing to accept that.

I talk about it in more detail over here but we are Constantly positioned in the place of her abusers. From framing to her opinions on us, ever since we voted her guilty in T1 for the primary reason of "making her realize her mistakes." we mimic her parents.

Since she cannot become a princess, she becomes a witch, and is forced right back into that cycle she desperately tried to escape.

And Someday, Together, We'll Shine

So, that's a bit of a downer. But even so we have hope!

It's not exactly easy when the system built is so counter-productive to everyone's wellbeing and development that it often makes them worse instead of better.

But Amane has made a promise to live. Muu Does want to have genuine relationships with the people around her. And Mahiru has admitted her relationship wasn't as ideal as she initially thought.

And sometimes, you just need to see a possibility for something outside of all this to be able to get out of it.

Anthy:  What will you be doing in ten years? Utena:  I dunno. But... Anthy:  But? Utena:  But I hope we can be together like this drinking tea then. Anthy:  Yes. I hope so too. Utena:  I'm sure that'll be great. Utena:  Let's have tea and laugh together ten years from now, okay? Utena:  Promise? Anthy:  Yes. Definitely.

[narcissisticselfshippinsinner]

ANGEL

DS Dream X DT Dream

This follows the head cannon that since Dream ate 1 apple he has mini wings instead of big ones like DS Dream.

DT Dream= Dream

DS Dream= Daydream/ Day

____________________________________________

Daydream found himself in the familiar land of the Dreamscape. The gold fluffy clouds spread over the land, looking soft enough to be cotton candy. Daydream ruffled his feathers before stretching out his wings and going air borne: making his way to the centre of the Dreamscape. There stood a mirror tree of the tree of feelings. Admittedly, the tree had seen better days: it being mostly dead. Daydream winced and pushed back menories: nostalgia filling his soul.

He looked for something to distract him from the onslaught of memories threatening to take him over. He always had control of his emotions and he wasn't going to loose that now. That's when he heard it: a hiccup followed by a sob. Successfully being distracted, Daydream searched for an aura releasing distress and negative feelings but was surprised to find none. The only indication of someone else being there, was the soul wrenching sobs and muffled chokes from the other.

Going the old fashioned way, Daydream used his keen sense of hearing: following the sound of hiccups and cries. He found himself under the mirror tree: on what used to be the side where the golden apples hung. He was close now- so close that he shut down his own aura to prevent the other from noticing him. As soon as he did, he could feel the other aura: though its posituvity was controversial to the soul stopping sobs coming from the other. It almost even felt like his own aura: though definitely weaker. He could feel his aura urging him to protect the other: get rid of the thing that was causing the other to cry. He pushed aside the feeling: only when Negativity ruled would he ever allow himself to succumb to his feelings and urges, which would never happen.

he could hear the others mumbled words followed by a series of sniffles and sobs.

"I-I *choke* failed h-him. Im s-such a *hic* h-horrible b-brother. Wh-why do I-I even ex-exist? A-all I-I do I-is *sob* g-get in t-the w-way of h-his ha-happiness. W-what ki-kind of b-brother d-does th-that?*choke* i-im such a f-failure. I-I should st-stob being s-selfish *sob* an-and g-give him his happiness. *choke* even...i-if that is m-my life-"

_________________________________________

Daydream gasped as he sat up in his king sized bed, his duvet falling to his lap. His golden eyes took in his surroundings as his wings twitched in agitation: feathers puffed up.

After gathering his bearings, he relaxed his wings: feathers smoothing out to their usual silky state. Shaking his head dismissively, he got up off the bed and went about his morning routine.

Leaving through his open window, Daydream gently flapped his wings as he lowered himself to the ground with grace only heard of through the legends of angels. His golden wings tucked into him as he limited his positive aura so that his presence could not be felt at all.

He had decided to take a walk. The woods outside his window seemed ideal with the woodland critters just waking up and small animals hustling about. The cool crisp clean air of the early morning provided a pleasant breeze as Daydream enjoyed the solitude of his walk. No expectations, No one to judge him- it was perfect.

Morning dew glittered on the leaves and petals of flowers and trees alike, giving the forest a surreal and magical feel. The sun hadn't risen yet: the sky a mix between pale blue and black: creating an odd harmony. The colours almost seemed nostalgic for some reason.

Shaking his head: Daydream continued his walk, determined to not let his paranoia and overthinking nature take hold of this relaxing walk of his. Alas, his efforts was is vain as the he spotted a odd tinge of yellow to the left of him. A golden yellow that definitely clashed with the cool colours of the morning forest.

'If I ever find out who decided to use this Forest as a dumping ground I swear I'll-'

Daydream's eye twitched in annoyance as he side tracked off the dirt path he was on and entered the bush. As he approached the yellow object, he could feel a weak but strangely positive aura. An aura that was strangely familiar. Rushing forward after realizing that it wasnt an object: bit was indeed a person, Daydream pushed through the thick foliage and found himself on a small clearing.

Daydream's golden eyesockets widened as he took in the person infront him. There: unconsions on the ground, lay a skeleton monster clad in golden yellow and black clothes. That wasn't the fact that seemed to leave Daydream speechless though. What put Daydream into shock was the golden glistening crown that sat snugly on the others head. That and how similar the other looked liked to him in the past: though, past Daydream was taller and less...rounded than the other skeleton.

Getting over his shock, Daydream went over to the other skeletons side. He could feel his suppressed aura screaming at him to protect the other: to make sure he was safe. Once again ignoring the pleas of his aura: he checked the other skeletons soul pulse. After finding it weak, he sighed and picked up the other skeleton: much to his auras delight. Hating himself for giving his aura what it wanted: Daydream spread out his wings and took off back towards his castle, the sun rise causing hues of gold, pink and orange to dance across the sky and light up the area. Not that Daydream noticed: his mind focused on the smaller in his arms.

_________________________________________

"Mmmgg"

Dream groaned as Sunlight penetrated his eyelids. Turning around, he snuggled himself into the warmth of the soft duvet covering him.

'...Wait- duvet?'

Snapping his eyes open before wincing at the bright light, Dream sat up in both panic and confusion: a million thoughts running through his head at once.

'Where am I?- what happened?- aren't I supposed to be in the voi-'

Luckily, his barrage of thoughts were broken by a groan next to him. Slowly looking beside him- Dream saw another skeleton leaned back on a chair: asleep. A comidic snot bubble grew and shrunk as the other slept. Strangely enough, Dream could've swore the other was Ink. The only difference being the others attire and paint mark.

Only when the others shot bubble popped and he woke up groggily, did Dream confirm that the other was not infact just Ink in another outfit. The other had a grumpy aura, shown though his heterocromic eyes: one a green square and the other an orange triangle. As the other blinked the sleep put of his eye sockets, Dream took note on how the others eyelights remained the same, further adding to his confirmations on the others identity.

The Ink lookalike groaned in annoyance as he noticed that Dream was awake, making Dream wince at the reaction. Focusing his aura slightly, Dream noticed how the others annoyed expression turned slightly happy before going back to annoyed.

"Stop that." The Ink lookalike spat, startling the guardian. "Stop trying to control my emotions. Your not even as good at Boss when it comes to that so why try?"

Dream tilted his head in confusion. "Who's... boss?"

FakeInk chucked before growling at the other, earning a whimper from Dream. "I don't have to tell ya anything pipsqueak. All I was told to do was watchya until you woke up. And now that your up, I'm outa here."

Before Dream could awnser, the taller got up and dragged himself out the door: the door clicking shut behind him.

Not knowing whether to try and leave or to stay: Dream sat in the bed awkwardly for a few seconds. Taking in his surroundings, Dream found himself in a bedroom: the themes that of warm colours and different shades of yellow. The bed he sat in was king sized and the duvet and pillows surrounding his were the fluffiest and warmest he had ever felt. Directly infront of him was a large arched doorway: surprisingly with no door as it lead to a small balcony: the blinding light reflecting off the floor indicating it was noon.

Before Dream had the chance to get up and explore the rest of the room, a swify knock was sounded at the door before the door was pushed open and closed silently. Dream watched the figure enter the room quietly, his eyesockets widening at the face infront of him. The other skeleton looked oddly similar to him, though his face was more defined, he was way taller, his eyesockets were fully gold and the two massive golden wings behind his back- not to mention his attire. Dream couldn't feel the others aura as he stared at his somewhat lookalike in curiosity and confusion.

The taller sat down on the bed next to Dream: his wings folded behind his back. Dream couldn't help the shivers down his spine as the other spoke: "Good afternoon. How was your rest?"

Dream looked around akwardly: avoiding eye contact with the taller. "Em... good I guess?" He mumbled passively.

Daydream's soul skipped a beat. Whether it was out of excitement or realization that the others voice was that of the person's in the Dreamscape, he would never know. His aura was once again urging him to comfort the smaller: love him, protect him and make sure he was alright. Luckily for Daydream, he had pretty good self control. And so, they ended up spending the rest of the evening, talking and sharing information: the uncomfortable sansation hanging in the air disappearing, leaving a pleasant and calm atmosphere.

_________________________________________

It had been a few weeks since Dream had started living at the JR. At first, he was sceptical of everyone: including Daydream, but after awhile, he got used to them. Kinda.

The first time Daydream had released his aura to Dream, Dream felt so overwhelmed he fell into a trance: his aura taking over his actions in replacement for his short circuited brain. Let's just say it was very difficult for Daydream not to snuggle the smaller as Dream clung onto him like an adorable koala.

Time, however, passed and Dream had slowly been getting used to the others aura: now able to stand Daydream's aura without short circuiting 65% of the time.

One can imagine the surprize (and hidden delight) when Daydream accidentally found out about Dream's wings. Usually hidden under his clothes, Dream had a pair of adorable little golden angel wings: formed due to his consumption of the last golden apple in Dreamtale.

After this discovery, Daydream had another problem on his plate: that being having to control the urge to preen the smallers wings.

___

Goddamn this stupid aura of his.

Daydream mentally grumbled as he finished his third load of paperwork for the day. A pale yellow blush was dusted along his cheekbones as he couldn't help but feel empty. Like he wanted something- no. Someone to be with him at that very moment. To sit on his lap so he could cuddle the other: nerves calm due to the feeling of the other tucked away safely in his arms.

Not that that'll ever happen. His stubbornness and mental inability to give into his feeling and urges preventing him. He had to stay in control: a perfect angel for those who follow him, a role model. And what kind of role model doesn't have control over themselves, physically and mentally?

However, history has a cruel way of repeating itself. So once again, Daydream walked upto the guest room: having to call Dream for lunch. After knocking on the door, he waited. After a few minutes, he knocked again. A unknown source of worry started coursing through him: His aura once again active in pushing him to check on the smaller. Before Daydream had time to think of it, he pushed open the door and took a step inside.

Just as he entered the room, the bathroom door swung open and in came a shirtless Dream: his ribs and small wings visible for the world to see.

Daydream felt something in him snap. Probably his patience and self control as he promptly walked up to the embarrassed and slightly confused Dream: and picked him up bridal style.

An ominous shadow hung over Daydream's eyelights, hiding them from view. Giving out a startled yelp: Dreams feathers puffed up as the taller held him securely in his arms. Dream struggled in the others arms: confusion and (gay) panic fuelling his actions. That is until he suddenly felt a somewhat familiar warm yet fuzzy aura surround him. Dreams brain felt like ooze as he felt himself melt into Daydreams aura and hold.

As Dream struggled in Daydream's grasp: Daydream could feel the panic and confusion radiating off the smaller. Therefore he had unconsciously released his aura: once again overwhelming Dream and causing the other to instantly relax in his grip. As Daydream made his way to his room, he could feel his soul dance with joy and his aura sing as Dream snuggled and cuddled into his chest.

Opening and closing his door using his foot, Daydream brought the smaller over to his bed. Sitting up against the bed, he pulled the smaller into his lap: spooning the other from behind. Daydream's eyes were glazed over by the (usually held back) emotions and feelings that had taken over his mind. His actions fueled by his aura and soul. Lovingly cradling the other, Daydream nuzzeled Dream's neck before moving his hands upto Dream's adorably tiny wings. Dream started purring in satisfaction as Daydream started to preen the others wings: smoothing out the small soft feathers. Dream learnt into Daydream, loving how the others aura covered him like a protective yet loving blanket. He had never felt safer and more loved than this. Dream felt relaxed and truly happy as his aura sang out a symphony of joy. This was the place to be: in Daydream's arms.

_________________________________________

Dream winced as he woke up to a slight head ache. Sitting up: he once again found himself in the first room he had woken up in: Daydream's room. Even though he was sitting up and the duvet that once covered him was in a bundle at his lap, Dream felt strangely warm. That's when he noticed the large jacket draped over him: Daydream's jacket. He also seemed to notice his lack of a shirt, leading the smaller to pull the coat infront of him: cheekbones lit up gold in embarrassment.

*thunk*

Dream almost jumped out of his nonexistent skin when he heard a strange banging sound. Eyes scanning the area, Dream came to the conclusion that the sound came from the bathroom. Getting off the bed silently and wearing the jacket properly, Dream quietly made his way over to the bathroom: the sleeves of the jacket covering his hands. Dream almost tripped over the jacket as its bottom reached just above his knees. Luckily he regained his balance on time and found himself peeking through the entrance to the bathroom.

His eyes widened in surprise as he found himself looking at Daydream with his head against the bathroom wall: the others fists curled up and pressed against said wall.

Dream felt a strange sense of worry overcome him, running up to the taller he pulled the other away from the wall: sighing in relief at the small bruise on the top of his skull.

"Why would you do that!?" Dream's voice tinkled making Daydream's aura activate and urge him into another cuddle session with the smaller.

Grinding his teeth, Daydream clenched his fists harder: almost drawing blood. Since when was it this difficult to control his urges and feelings? Dream could feel the others feelings spike: his positive aura being suppressed. Daydream's internal turmoil came to a stop as he felt two warm arms surround his torso. Though weak, Daydream could feel the others aura calm him as the storm that ravaged his mind came to a standstill. He didn't know when the tears had started fo flow, but once they did, they flowed like a opened dam: free of the artificial restraints holding it back. He found it hard to breath as sobs forced their way out of his throat: shaking his body to the core.

Dream smiled softly as he rubbed comforting circles on the others lower torso and wings: feathers soft to the touch. It had been the first time Dream had seen the other express their emotions freely: a strong and impenetrable wall bottling it up all this time. Dream could feel his aura begging him to comfort the taller, which he gave into instantly: arms pulling Daydream closer as the other collapsed into his arms.

Dream whispered reassurances and loving words to the taller as Daydream buried his face into Dreams slender chest: his tears soaking through his own jacket. He had never felt this weak before. So...not in control. And it scared him. How could he be their angel if he couldn't even control his emotions. How could he lead them it he couldn't even stop a measly break down such as this?

Daydream felt as though his head was splitting with all the built up and hidden emotions spilling out of him through his sobs and cries.

*Daydream cried for help.

...

..

.

*and somebody came

Daydream suddenly became aware of the smaller supporting him: whispering words of comfort and reassurance. "Your going to be okay, Day. Its alright to let them out. It builds up who you are and nobody should have to restrain them." Dream's calming and motherly voice soothed the other: bringing him down from his attack.

Daydream was emotionally exhausted as he leaned into the smaller, hearing the others soul beat. Hoisting himself up, with Dream's help, Daydream stumbled upto his bed: collapsing on the soft sheets. With a bit more struggling, he managed to slip under his extremely fluffy duvet. However, before Dream could say goodbye and leave, an arm reached out and pulled the smaller into the bed.

Orange beams of light shone through the balcony doorway, lighting up the room in mesmerizing shades of orange, gold and reds. The sun setting over the horizon was evident as Dream could feel a intense yet strangely delightful heat cover his cheekbones as his soul beat sped up. Dream could feel his aura relax happily in satisfaction as Daydream pulled Dream into him: his arms curling around the smallers waist and wings circling over him protectively. Snuggling into Daydream's embrace, Dream could feel sleep pull at him: the comfort of Day's hold lulling him into the calming darkness...

_________________________________________

A/N

My God that took forever.

3175 words :)

[nyarmand]

i forgot to respond earlier but YES if you feel up to ranking the cases you should! :D

i absolutely feel up to it! okay, let’s go! below, my rankings for all of the ace attorney cases i’ve played so far... please note that these are all subjective opinions and you may highly disagree, but this is how i feel :) please also note that this will contain me crushing hard on a couple of characters but i promise not to get over the top about it.

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney

The First Turnabout -- 2/10 I literally do not care about this one like, at all. I do like having Mia around, hence why it has 2 points instead of 0. But also it’s a Larry case and I really do not like Larry. Plus... everything else. I just don’t like it. (And Phoenix having passed the bar exam but not knowing what a cross-examination is, even if it’s just for tutorial purposes, drives me up the wall.)

Turnabout Sisters -- 6/10 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA [sobs] This case hurts me. It hurts. Both because of the painful loss of sibling rights and because April May exists. Very different types of hurting, but all the same... She’s one of the reasons why this case gets points taken off of it. Another reason is that I’m just not huge on how it progresses; I’m never a fan of when Mia has to come in and be like ‘this is what you need to do!’ I like figuring it out myself, y’know? But also, heyyyyy, introduction to some characters that are very dear to my heart! Edgeworth time! Fantastic!

Turnabout Samurai -- 5/10 I like Will Powers a lot, and I would kill for Cody, and Penny makes me happy because she has the same name as me, and Dee Vasquez... Wow. Wow. She’s really something. But the plot is kind of boring and goes on for too long, Wendy Oldbag makes me want to defenestrate myself (especially when she talks to Edgeworth) and Sal Manella fills me with a murderous rage. So this case only gets a 5/10. It would probably get lower, except I really love Edgeworth realizing what’s going on and starting to help out, and the scene at the end... well. Well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate.

Turnabout Goodbyes -- 10/10 Excellent case. Perfect case. Could not think more highly of it. Yes my lifespan is decreased whenever I see Manfred von Karma but it’s okay. I love defending Edgeworth and I love the backstory even though I also hate it, and I love the actual realistic depictions of trauma, and I love cross-examining the parrot, and I love love LOVE the ending, of course, because getting justice has never felt so goddamn satisfying before. Yeah, I think this case is just my absolute favorite (so far).

Rise from the Ashes -- 9/10 This case hurts me deeply for a thousand different reasons. The sibling rights... The REMOVAL of sibling rights... (I cried. I actually cried.) Edgeworth suffering... It’s all so painful but it’s so well-written that it’s okay. Point taken off because the whole rotating evidence thing kind of annoyed me. ‘But isn’t that also a mechanic in the Investigations series?’ Yeah, but it’s okay when Investigations does it. Don’t ask me to elaborate.

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney: Justice for All

The Lost Turnabout -- 3/10 This case only gets points for Maggey, and also Wellington’s cool ringtone. Oh, and the line about bananas. You know the one. Otherwise, it’s just kind of boring, though I do appreciate that they actually came up with an excuse as to why Phoenix suddenly needs everything explained to him again. Even if that excuse is a bit silly.

Reunion, and Turnabout -- 7/10 It’s not a favorite by any means, but this one is pretty good. Pearl is just baby. The whole Miney sisters thing is deeply upsetting to me, but in a way that’s kind of good. The Hotti Clinic makes me really fucking angry and creeped out, so points taken off for that. Also, Franziska has arrived, and oh boy am I glad to see her!

Turnabout Big Top -- -10000000000000000/10 NO NO NO NO NO. FUCK THIS CASE. I HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH. I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS ONE. The only good thing in it is how Franziska talks about Miles, because sibling rights are real. But the rest of it? The rest of it can burn.

Farewell, My Turnabout -- 9/10 This is a really good case! I LOVE the twist, I didn’t expect it at all, and it was so cool. I also really like Adrian. Shelly de Killer is pretty cool too. And of course, Edgeworth is back! Hallelujah! Franziska getting shot though... :( And having to go to that damn clinic... :((( Oh and also I love Shoe with every fiber of my being.

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney: Trials and Tribulations

Turnabout Memories -- 7/10 Ah, another flashback case, and one that doesn’t absolutely destroy me emotionally! Mia is here! Phoenix Wright as a sick college student with no common sense is here! Dahlia Hawthorne is here! It’s quite a collection of interesting individuals, and on top of that, it’s just a cool case! Even if lovestruck Phoenix makes me feel like hitting someone... Sort of like what it does to Mia... 

The Stolen Turnabout -- 6/10 The case itself isn’t that good, to be honest. But I would kill for Ron and Desiree DeLite. They’re so sweet, and Ron is so funny... On the other hand, though, Luke Atmey can go Zvarri himself. I hated him from the very moment he first appeared. What an annoying, fraudulent ass. Also, Godot was there, and I didn’t like him, either, even though I hadn’t yet seen quite just how bad he can get. It was really nice to see Adrian living her best life, though!

Recipe for Turnabout -- 2/10 I really didn’t like this one... I don’t want to talk about it... I did like Lisa Basil though. Too bad she wasn’t much of a character. Oh, and Viola too. And seeing Maggey again was nice. But those were the only good points in an otherwise horrible case.

Turnabout Beginnings -- 7/10 The case is pretty high quality, but it tormented me. Seeing Edgeworth in that coat... with those sprites, just like von Karma’s... And that one line... I hated every minute of it. It hurt. The only way it could’ve been worse was if von Karma himself had been there, but that gets saved for Investigations. Mia being there again was fun, though. And Dahlia... Wow. Lots going on there. That ending was... a lot. Terry was a creep and I didn’t like him, but watching that... Yeah. Yeah. And Diego did not endear himself to me in the slightest.

Bridge to the Turnabout -- 8/10 Too much Godot. Otherwise, this was a really great case. Playing as Edgeworth was so much fun, and Franziska being there too was incredible, and the whole thing tying up all the loose ends was just... so cool. Admittedly, the case itself made me very sad, but... it was so good. So good. I wanted to kill Godot partway through, though. No one talks to Franziska that way. No one. Plus, his whole stupid attitude about Mia... Yeah, I hated his guts, that’s for sure. It also had the scene that I hate (Phoenix needs to fucking learn what PTSD is or I swear to god) but otherwise, very good case.

Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth

Turnabout Visitor -- 5/10 HELLOOOOOO I was so excited to finally play these games that the whole case is a bit of a blur, but I do remember not really finding it that interesting outside of the whole rush of ‘FUCK YEAH I’M PLAYING INVESTIGATIONS’. Jacques annoyed me. But it’s Investigations. Investigations is cool.

Turnabout Airlines -- 7/10 Okay, first of all, Edgeworth hiding Steel Samurai stuff in a law book is genuinely just the funniest thing ever. But this case was pretty fun! I love that Franziska’s working with Interpol now, good for her! The characters were pretty cool (I really liked Cammy) and I thought a lot of it was pretty funny, too.

The Kidnapped Turnabout -- 6/10 The only reason this gets 6 points is because it introduced Kay Faraday, who is my chaos child that I love dearly, and also Shi-Long Lang, who I have a very complicated relationship with. It switches from love to hate frequently. It also introduced their totally epic theme songs, one of which is now my morning alarm. Otherwise, I really don’t like it that much. The case goes on for too long, and a lot of the characters are pretty annoying. I really hate Lance. I feel bad for Lauren, though. Ernest... Ugh. Ugh. The man makes me want to break things. Every time he mentions von Karma, he inevitably says something that makes my blood boil. And it brings back Wendy Oldbag, which is always bad news, and she was so fucking creepy, and... yeah. I enjoyed seeing Ema again, though! She seemed to be living her best life :)

Turnabout Reminiscence -- 9/10 This case had too much von Karma in it, and the fact that he went and called Edgeworth worthless right to his face made me so angry and upset... But! It is still a very good case! I really like Detective Badd, and Calisto... Calisto is very pretty and fun, but... yeah. Also! Baby Kay! Baby Kay is everything! And the sibling rights, they were everywhere! The case was just full of them! I love Miles and Franziska bickering like regular siblings. I love the scene with the Swiss rolls. I love Franziska getting between him and her dad. Sibling rights are so real.

Turnabout Ablaze -- 6/10 This case was pretty eventful. Not a favorite by any means, but still good. I thought it was a little too long, though, and the ending just really felt like it was dragging out too much. It got to the point that I wasn’t even fired up anymore, I was just kind of trying to get it all over with. Also, whether he meant it or not, Lang accusing Franziska of murder made me mad. But some of the twists were cool, even if I figured out most of them ahead of time... Also, Edgeworth getting really mad about Larry playing the Steel Samurai was hilarious, in a mean way. I felt a little bit bad for laughing.

Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth: Prosecutor’s Path

Turnabout Target -- 4/10 This one was kinda boring, to be honest. I liked seeing Shelly de Killer again, though, with his matching ice cream cone. And I liked Nicole. (I bet I know who her first mentor was...)

The Imprisoned Turnabout -- 5/10 This one also kinda bored me, unfortunately. Raymond ticked me off from basically the moment he walked onscreen, because sure, let’s blame Edgeworth for [checks notes] ah yes, being manipulated by Manfred von Karma since he was nine. Let’s do that. Nothing wrong with that at all. /dripping sarcasm Sebastian also ticked me off at first, but I’m warming up to him. Also, I was in love at first sight with Justine Courtney. [heart eyes] I am not embarrassed in the slightest to admit to it. She is amazing. Simon is really funny and I think it would’ve been hilarious if he was actually evil, but he was innocent, so... My blood ran cold when I found out the Berry Big Circus was involved, but thank god, it was only Regina. No Franziska yet. I’m really hoping Franziska will show up.

The Inherited Turnabout -- 8/10 I haven’t finished this one yet, but so far, I’ve been enjoying it, even if it torments me with sadness and anger. Once again, von Karma shortens my lifespan, but Gregory Edgeworth lengthens it. (I think it’s really funny that they got ProZD to voice him.) Raymond... I still don’t like Raymond. Though his eating the paper is funny. Also! Also! Katherine Hall! This game introduced two women in a row that I have absolutely fallen for, and I have zero complaints about this. They are incredible. Sebastian is really funny in this one and like I said I am really warming up to him. Yeah. That’s all I really have to say so far. Still no sign of Franziska...

I’m definitely excited to see where the other cases in this game will take me, and after that it will be time for Apollo Justice! I am looking forward to finally meeting the famous Klavier Gavin... But I am not at all looking forward to meeting Kristoph... Oh, well. I’ll live. Probably.

Thank you for reading all of this, haha! I have a lot of thoughts... Many thoughts head full (of Ace Attorney).

[phantom-wolf]

@usukweek

Day 6 prompt: mythology

A/N Before we begin just wanted to spew some mythology at you

I'm no expert but a Púca seems to be a shape shifting spirit that can take the form of a rabbit, goat, cat, dog and a horse. They usually have black fur with golden eyes. If they are to take the form of a human they're usually left with some animal feature (for example bunny ears). The mythology is sorta vague about whether they're good or bad (they can both help or hinder) but a common theme amongst them is misheviousness. They try to lure people onto their backs and then they give them a terifying ride throughout the whole area and then return them to where they found them.

Dryads are female but for the sake of the story male dryad's are very very rare and are often regarded as black sheep. They tend to be isolated from the other dryads.

-------

The thunder of hooves silenced the songbirds that sat perched on branches above. Frantic puffs of breath escaped flaring nostrils as the stallion struggled to intake oxygen caused by the gallop he was currently partaking in. Branches like nimble fingers reached out, brushing the animals side pulling on his flank and ocassionally creating small incisions. His black fur glinted when struck correctly by the ocassional sunlight that broke through the canopy of the forest, enabled by the crimson liquid leaking freely out of the gashes on the others neck and shoulders. The horse's mane and tail bounced freely coinciding with the ferocity of his stride despite the roots and broken sticks set on the ground that slowed him. The incessent buzzing of insects as they tried to feast on his open wounds were an annoyance however more pressing concerns weighing on his mind so he did not take the time to stop. His ears swiveled back to the sound of furious shouts that had persisted the whole time and refused to dissipate encouraged by the crimsion trail left in the stallions wake. He felt himself jolt forwards before he even knew what happened. His body reacted before his mind could the cracking displaced bones and joints overshadowing the snap of the bones in his left leg. Beast was replaced by man who promptly passed out from the connection of his skull and the ground.

When he came too he blinked, slowly taking in his surroudings. It took him a moment to realize that everything was sideways. He lifted his head to take in his surrounds but the movement made him dizzy. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut taking a moment to rid himself of the dizzyness. He rested his head against the ground once more opting to not move. Instead he opened his eyes watching the sunlight cast shadows that flickered along the ground. He gave another groan his whole body aching from the impromptu shift. Oh how gravity hated him. Actually correction the universe hated him.

A soft thumping gradually moved closer. He recognized the sound as footsteps drawing nearer and yet he couldn't bring himself to look behind him. Was this how he died? Damn he thought he'd go out like a total badass not some sissy that just- a male voice interrupted his thoughts. It was a soft sound, yet distinct with a twinge of surprise. He couldn't describe it as unpleasant yet the stranger also seemed to be chastising him. Perhaps he had been observing for longer then expected and caught him moving around.

"Oh. You're awake earlier then anticipated. Here drink this it will help with the pain." A small crudely sculpted bowl was offered to him. Remembering how he got here in the first place he decided to not trust some persons supposed remedy. He took a moment to glance up at the stranger's arms, his eyes the only thing to move. The stranger's appendages where pale, his fingers slender and his hands lacked signs of manual labor. There were grooves along his arms some deeper then others, the skin around them discolored as if the skin around it had been flayed and healed, yet they were unmistakenly human. He had been alive long enough to know human cruelty extended to other humans. Especially to other humans.

"Who are you?" The shifter questioned. Instead of responding verbally the stranger moved to the front of him, crouching down so he could see all of him without moving his head. His eyes raked over the other from his feet to his head. Overall the male adorned a white oversized linen undershirt that hung loosely from his frame and looked to date back a few centuries. He wore no footwear soil impressing itself upon his bare feet and sported breeches that were quite tattered. His savior looked a little older than himself but still relatively young with eyes that reminded him of the greenery around him. Any other exposed skin was pale the sunlight illuminating his blond hair making him look ethereal. This image was shattered by the most horrid eyebrows he'd ever seen on a human being. "What is on your face?"

The man's face twisted into a scowl yet he looked away to presumably hide his features. "Either drink the bloody thing or suffer. I don't give a damn. Oh and like your the one to talk. You still have horse ears púca." he snapped.

He jolted at the sudden naming of his species, rolling onto his back with a grunt, hands flying to his ears to try to cover them. Shit, shit. He did his best to scramble away. "Don't come any closer." This earned him an eye roll from the other man.

"Firstly, your leg is splinted you're not going anywhere until its healed. Secondly, relax. I was just surprised at first. I haven't seen one of your kind in centuries." The stranger stated standing up and stretching himself out a bit.

"Centuries?" The blue eyed make asked tilting his head in curiosity but still eyeing the other cautiously. Perhaps he was wrong in his assumption about the other being human.

"You're not very bright are you?" The blond scoffed, crossing his arms. "I'm a Drus-" The other started to explain. Upon receiving a blank stare he huffed. "A male dryad. And you're in my forest. Have some respect."

He swallowed his indignation instead spewing the first question that came to mind. "What's your name?"

"Arthur." After a bout of silence the male spoke up once more. "You really are lacking in common courtesy aren't you? Who are you?"

"Name's Alfred."

---

It took a few weeks for his leg and his head to heal enough for him to be able to roam freely again. During this time the dryad and púca became well acquainted. Of course Alfred would return to civilization but he was sure to alert Arthur before he did so and always returned with new clothing for the other. More modern and better fitting. The wounds on his neck and back had closed and left some scars but he didn't mind. The trips to town would often wear the púca out so he'd take a few days to stay with the older entity.

"Arthur is too stuffy." Alfred started leaning against a nearby spruce. "How about Artos?"

"What century are you living in?" The dryad raised an impressively large eyebrow.

"Hmmm fine. No old derivative of your name. How about I call you Artie instead?"

A sharp glare was sent his way and an acorn bounced off his temple. "How about I use you as fertilizer instead?"

He let loose a loud boisterous laugh, rubbing the spot where the nut hit. He piped up again. "You went through a lot of trouble to help me just think of all that time wasted if you did turn me into fertilizer."

"Oh shut it".

With that the two of them faded into a comfortable silence. That was before the others hands and arms caught his attention. A question ate away at his admittedly little self control. "What's with the grooves on your arms?"

The other's expression soured, melancholy painting his features. "My skin bares the marks of my naivety. Where I let humans take and they took too much. Normally dryads protect their forest and I did. It is my body after all. I just- I just wanted friends and I thought they would provide that if I allowed them to take from me."

The younger gave a frown. Oh. "Well if it makes you feel better I'm trying to be a hero! I don't want to scare people and cause mischief! I want to help them!"

"Did you even listen to what I said? Going against your nature only gets you hurt. " Arthur huffed rolling his eyes.

Alfred snorted feeling his anger rise. Don't do it, you can't do it, yadayadayada. Everyone's told him that he couldn't. Now even the one person he regarded as a friend was telling him not to? "I'm not you though. I can do it! I have been doing it! And I don't blame them for leaving with your attitude".

He could see Arthur physically tense, could practically see all the walls he had chipped away at going right back up. Even through his frustration he could tell how badly he just messed up.

"Then leave" The green eyed male snapped standing and stalking away to the closest opening the forest had to offer. Before Alfred could open his mouth to say anything the human was replaced by a large oak, its age shown in the width of its trunk. It would've been impressive- if Alfred didn't have more to say.

"Art I'm sorry! I didn't mean it I swear!" He called walking over to the tree and placing a hand on it trying to let the other know he was there. "Come on back Arthur!"

He didn't receive a response from him. "I know you can hear me!" The environment was still seemingly hushed by the downturn of the dryad's mood. He stood for a solid ten minutes before impatience pricked his skin. "Fine I'll leave."

So he did. He left the forest grumbling while he did so. He may have purposely stomped on some mushrooms that had been growing on the way out. After doing so he felt immensely guilty so he vowed to return the next day and properly apologize.

He left at about ten in the morning, visiting a local bookshop and picking up a copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Hey supposedly the movie was good so he assumed the novel was alright. With the book tucked closely to his chest he made his way back into the woodland. He returned to the spot in which they inhabited previously only to find that Arthur wasn't there. He proceeded to search around until his patience gave way, plopping down. "Stupid Arthur" he murmured blue eyes flashing gold with his frustration. Yeah he had blue eyes. His eyes where only gold in animal form. Hah stupid humans. They were easy to fool.

A sudden realization hit him in the face, blinking before a wide grin spread tugged at his lips." Hey Arthur! If you'd stop ignoring me for five seconds and listen! I might leave ya but I'll always come back! Promise!"

He barely noticed a movement out of the corner of his eyes.

A cold voice responded to his words. "You'll come back? Why?"

He whipped around to face the other hope igniting like a flame in his eyes. "Because we're friends now and I look out for my friends!"

He missed the color that rose on the others cheeks and how the whole forest seemed to shutter. "Friends?" He murmured to himself pondering the word and if he wanted to accept this. "Fine. But you're going to have to actually prove that you'll keep your promise. Words are nasty things that lie and decieve. Let your actions speak for you".

And so he did.

--

Weeks turned into months that transitioned into years. Alfred always came back to the forest and eventually only left to grab supplies from nearby towns. During this time he'd gotten even closer to Arthur. He admired how gentle he could be. How when he'd come across a wounded animal he'd nurse it back to health similarly to how he did with him so many years ago. Sure he could be infuriatingly stubborn but passionate and guarded, weary of travelers and fearful of what they might do to his body.

Alfred wished to stop this fear. So one night he reached over and took the others hands in his own. "I'll protect you from them" he stated firmly meeting the others eyes when the other anxiousness shined through on his face.

"From who?" The other sputtered his face bright red as he was snapped from the feeling of humans moving through the forest. By now it wasn't hard to see that the two entities had developed particular feelings for one another. Although neither knew how to describe it or act on it. Alfred hadn't even realized he longed for the other until he saw a couple holding hands.

"From anyone who wants to hurt you. I can give up my dream of being others hero and instead I'll be yours."

"I can look out for myself, I've been doing it for centuries. The last thing I need is you getting hurt! You get all whiny when you feel restless"

Alfred let out a snort "Do not. Anyway I know you can look out for yourself. But you don't need to do it alone. Let me be with you Arthur".

"Fine. But don't you be getting hurt all the time."

He gave a grin and pulled the other in for a hug "You're the best Artie!"

The other only yelped and slowly relaxed into it before returning the hug and scolding him for using the name Artie. Although there was no real bite to his words. Arthur looked up to meet the others eyes grumbling to himself still on his tangent about being called Artie but the others dopey smile made him pause. He gave a sigh "you have a lot to make up for. And- I'm sorry about what I said as well."

"I know. I got you a book! Will you read it to me?"

"Of course dear."

---

While his head was in Arthur's lap the others fingers combing through his hair lulling him to the brink of sleep the dryad asked a question.

"How did you end up bleeding and running from humans all those years ago Alfred?"

"Well ya see I wanted to help someone and was gonna bring them to an area where they'd find the flowers they were looking for. Some young guy. Thought he was the shit. So he climbed on and I started to take him there. He called out to someone and then once I was like halfway there he realized he couldn't get off. He had some blade and tried to get me to put him down but I didn't want to! The area wasn't the nicest so eventually I brought him back. Whoever he called to must've recognized what I was and then there was a group of humans waiting for me! I let him go and I ran and then my darling Dryad saved me."

"Darling Dryad huh?"

"Yup!" He chirped quickly moving into catch the others lips. Which resulted in a loving exchange before the smaller male pulled away sputtering out an I love you.

------

Nestled underneath the roots of the oak, hidden by the shadows of the tree black fur could hardly made out. A small, steady expansion of the rabbits sides separated it from the stillness encompassing it. It stirred, its golden eyes illuminated by the darkness, ears twitching as it listened to seemingly some type of inaudible melody. Slowly his head lowered, resting on his paws once more before closing his eyes once again tucked safely in the arms of his dryad.

They say there's a small forest that's been untouched for centuries. People may wander amongst its trails imprinted by the game themselves. Almost all report the same thing. Some see a cat. Some a dog. Some see one lone goat that follows them and doesn't come any closer despite beckoning or promise of food. These animals prove impossible to capture. If one gets close enough they're able to note that the beasts have two golden eyes.

A/N- I hate this but its 11:50 pm and needs to be published.

[nickambrose]

There was something of an interesting curiosity in Amelia’s mode of transportation, if only because beaming like that with an armful of books it’s what Nick pictured a retro diner waitress to look like. Though his limited knowledge of the topic was all gathered from American dramas. “No c’mon…okay CDs are usable, vinyls too they’ve come full circle back into fashion with those inclined for it.” Nick had very little interest in the minutia of music. It was good to have on in the background. Maybe good to set the tone – music for settling down to read a book was understandably going to be different to the soundtrack of a dance floor. “Admittedly I do have a stock of CDs, just don’t tell anyone, for Rapture but I’m not sure those will really work. Well…”

“Art deco is the theme with some dashing of rainbow, just because. I think it’s gotta be a good mix and mash-up? I absolutely do not want any Oasis or Plain White T’s supposed to be an uplifting party not a mood-hoover. The one wedding I went to which mind you was painfully boring from the get-go, church, the whole traditional crap from start to finish. I was hoping the reception everyone would just cut loose but the band just played rehashes of school disco music. It was awful.” 

“I just want the illusion of a good long and prosperous life ahead, even though it is the end of the world.” Nick finished his less than succinct rant with a generous offering of a smile, he tapped the bookcase. “New? Absolutely not, feel like I’ve lived here an eternity though I guess comparatively not so much that. Okay, speak of has a Bacchae turned up? Now we have nothing but time ahead of us I’m making an effort to go back over the greats. Bit of a deviation from wedding fever but...” 

At this point, most people looked for Amelia at the lbrary before they stopped by her house. It was a safe bet, especially recently with all those portals and places to explore and backpacks to fill with every CD she could find. She had to find space for all of them. Who did she talk to about an extension? Was that the kind of thing the island left to your whim?

At any rate, she didn't mind the clutter. It was a place with a lot of hiding spots, and little nooks to curl up with something good. Nick had found her skating about, doing her evening around to pick up stray books left on side tables and try to tidy up some measure. She skidded to a halt, arching a brow curiously at him.

Was time ticking? Amelia didn't know when the wedding was. Hopefully enough time away that Tamyra could make her something nice to wear. It felt like the kind of occasion that called for a new dress, though Amelia had never been to a wedding before.

She beamed under Nick's praise, of course, doing her best gracious and queenly nod, "Cassettes I can do. CDs too if you can play them, vinyls.." Amelia shrugged, "just tell me what sort of vibe you're looking to cultivate, and we can find some good stuff. But you know me, always busy, especially with all these oportunities to hop around, ooh, and I'm still so loving all these fresh faces!" Amelia giggled, "'course you might feel like you've been here a while, but still new to me- anyway! Wedding vibes, whats your thinking? You got a theme in mind?"

@nickambrose

[ladyvader23]

The Honeymoon

This work is gifted to @jainadurron for the Secret Santa Han and Leia exchange hosted by @hanleiasecretsanta! Thanks for the opportunity to write something a bit different and hope you enjoy! Merry ficmas! ^_^ 

~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“We’re about to revert outta hyperspace.” 

Leia looked up from her datapad, blinking at her husband. She sat curled up on their bed in the cabin of the Falcon, passing the time of hyperspace by going over reports for her upcoming meetings. As usual, once she started working, time seemed to slip away from her, so focused was she. The eight hour hyperspace journey to Cato Neimoidia seemed like nothing but an hour to her. Han always teased her that he could walk an angry nexu in front of her, and she wouldn’t notice if she was engrossed in her work. She had to admit he had a point. So, she didn’t mention how quickly time had passed for her and simply nodded, standing to stretch before joining him in piloting the Falcon.

 But she got quite the surprise when she helped him with the reversion sequence. Huh. It wasn’t Cato Neimoidia that appeared in the viewport after all. Instead, a planet covered in mostly water appeared. What? Leia’s brows knit together, and she immediately began checking the coordinates. “I told you we should have brought one of the droids or Chewie.” Leia said somewhat irritably, shaking her head in exasperation. “Your calculations were totally off, Han. We’re at Spira, not…” 

“I know.” Han replied smuggly, shooting her his familiar over-confident grin. “We’re exactly where we need to be Sweetheart.” 

Her eyes narrowed, turning slowly in her seat to face her husband while he transmitted their landing codes. “We are? What do you mean by that? What did you do?!” 

“What did I do?!” Han asked, mock offended, a wounded look on his handsome face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He waved his hand dismissively and actually tsked at his wife, causing her to arch her eyebrows in surprise.

Leia rolled her eyes and huffed, gesturing impatiently at the viewport where Spira could clearly be seen. “Oh really?” 

“Really.” Han nodded with feral grin. “I’d certainly never imply that the meeting on Cato Neimoidia was a week earlier than it actually was so that I could surprise you with a romantic vacation alone...just for two...to Spira.” 

His words registered in her brain, slowly. 

“Vacation?” She echoed. 

“You got it, Sweetheart.” He smiled to himself like he’d won the Millenium Falcon from Lando all over again. “It wasn’t easy, y’know. I had to convince so many people on the Council to go along with it…” 

She didn’t even want to know what he’d done to manage that…

“Then, I had to make sure Winter was able to watch the kids for two weeks instead of just one, and of course, I also had to make sure the Noghri were fully aware of my plans while also trying to get them to not let it slip to you...Then I let Luke know so that…” 

“Luke knew about this, too?” Leia interrupted, stunned at the lengths Han had gone to on this little endeavor. “Did everyone know except me about this vacation?” 

Han shrugged nonchalantly. “Anyone who might be affected in some way, yeah.” 

She stared at him, then turned to look at the planet, then once again back at him. “Why?” She was more than a little confused here. What in the galaxy could have motivated him to pull such a stunt?

Now he looked a little sheepish. “Well...it’s not often you get a break Leia. It’s not often we get a break. And we didn’t get to have much of a honeymoon really, since everything was so busy…” 

“It’s still busy.” She was the Chief of State. Her entire life was the definition of busy. To go on vacation, especially leading up to the conference on Cato Neimoidia… “I don’t know if we have time for this Han. If we’ve got an extra week before the conference…” 

“No.” Han gave her a stern look and held up a hand to forestall her next argument. “Like I said. When have we ever gone on a vacation where something hasn’t gone wrong? Especially alone?” 

She tried to think of even one such instance...just one...and came up empty. He was right. Something had always gone wrong. Every. Single.Time. That seemed to be the case most of their entire relationship, actually. 

“Don’t you think it would be nice, just this once, Babe, to have a vacation where nothing goes wrong?” Han asked. “You deserve it. We deserve it. The kids are being looked after, and they have plenty of security. The Council knows you’re on vacation and, by the way, you do actually have earned time off, y'know. Even Mothma took a vacation every once in a while when she was in charge. So, why can’t we, huh?” 

She hated to admit it, but he was right. And, she’d actually never been to Spira, but she’d heard of it’s white sand beaches, temperate climate, and abundance of water sports. If she was honest with herself, it sounded absolutely divine. And when would she ever have this chance again? Probably not for quite a long time. She certainly wouldn’t spare the time to set up something like this for herself, and Han had gone to so much trouble...just the fact that he’d done so was admittedly sweet of him… 

And when he looked at her the way he currently was, with pleading hazel eyes and a pout, how could she say no? He was just too damn sexy, and just one look in his eyes and all her objections fled.

“Alright. Just this once. And nothing will go wrong, right? You're positive?” 

He grinned in triumph, reveling in his victory as he turned back to focusing on the landing sequence. “Don’t you worry, Sweetheart. I’ve made sure nothing can go wrong.” 

Smirking, she just shook her head, "I've got a feeling something will go wrong."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Naturally, something went wrong. 

“What do you mean, you don’t have a room ready for us?” Han hissed at the front desk clerk, as light green female Rodian rechecked the hotel system. “I have a confirmation number and everything!” 

“Yes, Mr. Solo, I see that you booked the honeymoon suite, but for some reason, your reservation didn’t process correctly, and the room isn’t ready…” She replied, nervously. 

He let out an annoyed huff, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. Leia, thankfully, hadn’t come with him to check in. She was still outside, grabbing them some sweet treats from a stand along the beach. 

“Just...tell me it’s still available.” 

The Rodian winced. “Well. A honeymoon suite is available, yes...just not the one you picked...and it won’t be available until later this afternoon…” 

He’d picked the premier suite. The one that was supposedly themed, with its own jacuzzi that used purple passion flower scented water and had the best view of the ocean in the entire hotel. He figured girls liked that sort of thing. 

Granted, Leia wasn’t usually one to expect gestures like that from him, but he’d wanted to make this special for her, for them. Especially now that they actually had the credits to pay for something like this. He’d meant it when he said they deserved a nice vacation. They’d given up so much for the galaxy...surely the galaxy could give them a week without causing too much chaos. 

Apparently not. 

“What’s the difference between the room I picked and the one that’s available?” 

“Well, the one that’s available still has a beach view, it just also has a port side view. Still beautiful, but if there’s a lot of pleasure barges docked it can look a little cluttered.” Okay, they could probably deal with that. “And there is a jacuzzi, yes, but it’s not as large and the water isn’t automatically scented. You’d have to do it yourself.” 

He had no idea how to do that. What, did he just throw a bunch of flower petals in the water and mix it around? Maybe Leia knew how to do it, but he really didn’t want to make her work at all. By the end of this trip, he wanted her to be completely relaxed, and to him, mixing petal water sounded like more stress than it was worth. 

“I’ll figure it out.” He finally relented. He would need to make sure Chewie and Luke never heard about this, but he’d figure it out. “But I expect something for all the trouble. My wife is the Chief of State. She’s Leia Organa Solo. This should never have happened.” 

The Rodian made a gagging noise of horror and started stuttering. “P-Perhaps w-we could m-move the current residents of the premier suite…” 

“No, it wouldn’t make her happy to know I kicked someone else out of their room.” If it was just him on the other hand… “But...I don’t know, can you maybe throw in something special? I mean, this is the hotel's error, after all...Not mine."

The Rodian hesitated, then checked her datapad. “We could send up some champagne and comp a dinner at our nicest restaurant?” 

He mulled it over. “Can you also comp a large bouquet of flowers?” 

The Rodian checked her system again. “Yes, I believe we can swing that.” 

“Then it’s a deal.”

 He explained to the clerk exactly what he wanted. When he finished, the Rodian nodded. “Yes, Sir. The room and your order should be ready this afternoon. Again, I'm so sorry for the trouble, Mr. Solo.” 

He waved her off and headed back into the lobby just as Leia entered the building. Her long dark hair was uncharacteristically loose and flowing around her shoulders. Already it looked like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “I found shrimpi cups.” She announced, holding one out to him. “We can eat it in our room. Then maybe, if you don’t have things planned, we could go for a walk on the beach?” 

He accepted it from her. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we eat it on the beach?” 

She glanced at their bags at their feet. “But…” 

He waved down the attention of a service droid nearby. “The droid will take care of it.” He assured her, then as the droid came closer he turned around and whispered, “As soon as the room for Leia and Han Solo is ready, put these bags in there.” The droid made a displeased bleep, but he raised his brows expectantly. “We are not going to carry our bags around all day because your hotel messed up on our accommodations.” 

“What was that, Han?” Leia called. 

“Nothing!” He threw her a reassuring smile even as he handed the bags off to the droid. Thankfully, the droid took it with little more than an annoyed bleep. 

He approached his wife again, huge grin in place, holding out his arm towards her. “Shall we?” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eating on the beach ended up being the perfect activity. She’d been a little suspicious at Han’s strange behavior in the hotel lobby, but the lovely white sand beaches and cool, salty breeze put her mind at ease. The island they were on wasn’t as populated as some of the others on Spira, apparently, so there weren’t as many people wandering the beach. The water was calm, so much so that it looked more like they were on the shore of a giant glass lake than an ocean. Sand crabs darted about their feet, and they both kicked their shoes off and walked hand-in-hand, barefoot in the soft, velvety shoreline, water tickling their toes.

And it felt as if each step lifted away another worry or stress from her shoulders. It got even better when Han led her to a secluded section of the beach with a spa. “Really?” She asked skeptically. 

“What?” Han shrugged. “I thought it would be nice.” 

“It will be, but I didn’t exactly think of you as being someone who liked strangers touching your body.” 

“Well...do you like massages?” 

She didn’t mention that she used to love getting them on Alderaan as a teenager. She hadn’t had one since before the war, though. “Yes.” 

“Then it’ll be fine. Who knows, maybe I’ll like it.” 

“Wait, you’ve never gotten a massage?” 

“Like you said, the idea of strangers touching my body like that didn’t appeal to me. I’m not against it,” he added, “So...Maybe I’ll try it and never be able to live without it again.” 

They approached the counter and Leia picked up a pamphlet listing options and packages. 

“I like the sound of that.” She grinned. “So, I’ll be the one to choose what we get.”

“Choose away, Princess.” He motioned with his hand, dipping his head slightly in deference.

And that was how they each ended up with a hot stone massage on a soft table, side by side, under a gazebo overlooking the ocean, the lovely scent of tropical flowers wafting in the air...and contented smiles on both their faces. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Oh Han, they’re beautiful!” Leia smiled as she took in the large bouquet of flowers that had been artfully arranged in a crystal vase on the nightstand. Inwardly, Han breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. “Purple passion flowers, everlilies, rojos and blue blossoms…Do you have any idea how expensive this arrangement was?” 

Kriff. No. He didn’t. The flowers were free from the hotel, but he wasn’t going to tell Leia that. Doing so would mean he’d have to admit something went wrong on their perfect vacation, and he wasn’t willing to do that. “Of course. I had to pay for them, didn’t I?” He approached her and took her hands in his own, rubbing his calloused fingers gently over her own.

 She smiled softly. “I guess that’s true. I’m just surprised, is all. This size arrangement costs the equivalent of several days pay of a navy officer’s salary.”

 Seriously? Who knew fresh flowers were so damn expensive? He didn’t understand it. They would just die before the end of the week. But his wife seemed pleased with it, and if she was happy, he was happy. 'Nuff said.

She pulled away and approached the open air balcony, white curtains softly blowing in the breeze. She leaned against the stone ledge, taking in a deep breath as he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her flush against him. From this close, she still smelled of the lavender oils the masseuse used during their massage. “You really outdid yourself this time, Honey.” She said softly, leaning back against him. 

Thankfully, the hotel front desk clerk hadn’t been wrong. The room did have a beautiful view, with the harbor full of boats of all sizes and shapes, with a sunset of reds, oranges, pinks, and golds backdropping a never ending ocean. If he hadn’t originally purchased the room that was advertised as the best view in the hotel, he wouldn’t have known the difference. 

“I’m glad you’re happy.” He said, planting a sweet kiss on top of her head. “Are you happy?” 

“Of course.” She turned around, to see his eyebrows raised in doubt.

“Really? It’s a little more work to make sure it all fit together…”

She sighed and shook her head. “If you’d just told me you wanted to go on a vacation, I could have helped you plan it.” 

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He grinned, then snapped his fingers.“Oh! I also have stuff to make one of those fancy baths for you.” 

Leia raised her brows. “Fancy baths?” 

“Yeah. Y’know. With the flower water or whatever. You, uh, wouldn’t happen to know how to make it all nice and smelly, would you?” 

Her lips twitched. A sign she was attempting to hold back laughter. “You run hot water in the tub and place the petals in the water, if it’s petals. If it’s just a salt, then you also just dump that in the hot water and let it dissolve.” 

“You can do that with salt?” He asked, and this time she did laugh. “Well, I didn’t know! I’m a smuggler, for kriff's sake! You’ve seen the inside of the Falcon…” 

“Hmm...I’ve seen the outside, too.” She grinned at him.

“...and she may not be pretty, but she’s got it where it counts!” He huffed. “Alright. I...ah, just thought it would be nice to have a hot bath. That's all.” He flushed and shrugged, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nervously.

The smile that spread over her face turned sultry. “Oh?” 

“Yeah. And I’m going to go draw it up.” 

“You know, I could do it since I’ve done it before…” 

“No, no.” He shook his head, already backing away towards the master bath. “You’re on vacation, Sweetheart. I got this.” 

Amused, she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the balcony railing. “I almost want to watch you do this.” 

“There’ll be nothing to see since I’ve got this. No worries. This is me we're talking about.” He assured her, ignoring her incredulous look, before turning around to set about his objective. He entered the master bath and firmly shut the door behind him. He'd show her. He was a man of many talents. How hard could it be?

Technically, it wasn’t. He approached the massive marble jacuzzi tub, turned on the water, and set it to the perfect warm temperature. Then, as it ran, he found the bowl of flower petals waiting on the bathroom counter and dumped them in, then watched as the water ran over the plants. Sure enough, purple color began to bleach from the petals into the water. So far, so good. 

Satisfied, he nodded and grabbed a bottle of scented bubble bath and dumped the entire container full of soap in the water. After all, the more bubbles the better, he figured, and the bottle wasn’t very big at all anyway. 

Big mistake. 

At first, it looked to be shaping up to be a perfect flowery bubble bath for two. Mentally, he went about imagining him and Leia in the tub...getting rather creative, and he couldn't help the wolfish grin that spread on his face at such imagery. Then, as more water poured into the purple soapy mixture, the bubbles grew bigger, and bigger, and bigger with no signs of stopping. 

Oh no. 

Satisfaction turned to uncertainty which quickly turned into horror, and he cursed as he grabbed a towel and began trying to scoop bubbles out, trying to dump them in the double sinks in the vanity. It didn’t work. The bubbles just kept foaming, reaching higher and higher, climbing the marble walls. 

Oh shit.

“Is everything alright…? Oh. Force.” Han turned around in horror at Leia’s voice...and the movement caused him to lose his balance on the edge of the tub and slip and fall backward into the mess of water, petals and bubbles, disappearing completely from view in the huge mounds of bubbles. 

When he emerged, spluttering, his vision, his nose, his mouth were full of bubbles, and as he sucked in air, he managed to inhale a mouth full of soap and a stray petal or two. He spat it out and worked to clear his vision just in time to see Leia sit delicately on the edge of the tub, laughing uproariously his predicament. “Oh yes, I definitely should have been watching you. What, did you pour the entire bottle in the tub?” 

He pointed at her vehemently, even as he hoped the mess he made hid the flush on his cheeks. “We will never speak of this again.” 

Leia snorted, still chuckling and shaking her head, reaching over to turn off the water. “I’m sure Chewie would love to hear how you attempted to draw a bath and instead filled the bathroom with a mountain of bubbles in an attempt to wash all the walls, I guess.” 

“Leia!”

“But you know,” she smiled that sultry smile again, her eyes twinkling, and a second later she swung her legs into the bath, clothes and all, and joined him. The water and bubbles slushed over the sides once more, as she approached him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders...and turned on a switch behind him. The water began to bubble around them as the jets turned on, causing the bubbles to foam even worse. "There are advantages to being so scrupulously clean."

“Uh...I don’t think we’re getting our security deposit back.” He said, eyes locked with his wife’s. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined their time in the bath, but…

She leaned closer until their lips were just centimeters apart, their breath mingling. “I think, whatever happens on this honeymoon, stays on this honeymoon.” 

He breathed out in relief, grinning, and kissed her deeply in answer. He was glad his wife was in total agreement with him on that.

By the next morning, he figured that, despite his apparent inability to put together a fancy bath, their bath time turned out much better than he imagined. 

But they were definitely not getting that deposit back. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ~

She had to admit, Han could still surprise her, and he still proved daily that he wasn’t just a 'no good smuggler.' By the Force, he was so much more than that. General. Lover. Husband. Father. Pilot. Best Friend. And, apparently, pretty kriffing decent when it came to planning honeymoons. 

She was definitely impressed.

The rest of their week alone had been full of fun activities. Plenty of motosurfing; he’d had to teach her how to do that, and once she managed to get up on the board, she didn’t ever want to stop, much to her husband's amusement. They’d gone paddling in secluded lagoons, diving with schools of colorful fish in coral reefs, swimming in crystal clear lakes they found hiding in deserted caves, and island hopping where they had plenty of alone time on a small, white sand beach, undisturbed by any others, where they'd enjoyed a lovely picnic full of a veritable smorgasbord of delectable goodies, all packed for them by a helpful hotel concierge - complements of the Master Chef in the hotel's classiest restaurant.

Those alone times had especially made the whole trip worth it. 

They lounged on the cushioned bench of the balcony on their last night there, watching the full moon reflected off the relatively calm water of the ocean, listening to the peaceful sound of the ebbing tide. She swirled a glass of red, dry wine (at thirty nine degrees, Han teased when he’d handed it to her) in her hand absently, every once in a while taking a small sip from it. Around her waist, Han snaked an arm and held her close, and she leaned her back against the warmth of his chest. A light weight blanket was draped over both of them, as a gentle breeze wafted the salty scent of the sea around them.

Now this was pure bliss.

“Well.” She said softly, almost as though she were afraid to break the still silence of the night, “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t felt this relaxed since...since before I even joined the Senate.” 

Han softly whistled. “No wonder you’re so uptight, Sweetheart.” She tensed, the mood partially broken as she turned to chew him out, and he quickly added, “I’m only teasing, of course. Really, I’m glad. We deserved this.” He kissed her tenderly, and the tension left her shoulders, as she savored the taste and feel of him. 

“You were right.” She admitted when he pulled away, far too soon for her liking. “Maybe we should do this vacation thing more often.” 

“Wait, what was that? Do my ears deceive me?” 

“What?” 

“You said I was right.” 

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.” 

“Oh no, I’m going to savor this moment, Princess.” He took a deep breath. “Oh yeah. That feels great. I’m going to tell Chewie you finally admitted it. And Luke, as well.” Honestly, his look was so smug right now.

“Ah, ah!” She grinned, shaking her head, “What happens on this honeymoon stays on this honeymoon! Remember?” 

Han pouted. “Well...I’m sure not everything…” 

“Nope. Everything.” She reiterated before turning back to the view with a pleasured sigh. “Maybe next time we should bring the kids.” 

“To...a honeymoon?” 

“No, nerf herder, on vacation.” 

“Erm. As much as I love them, that doesn’t sound very relaxing to me.” 

“But it would be good to bond with them, I’m sure.” At his grimace, she snorted. “Alright. Maybe when they’re a little older and not so prone to disobeying their parents.” 

“Now, I like the sound of that.” 

They sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying one another’s company. Then, Han asked, more timid than she’d ever heard him, “Leia. Can I ask you something?” 

She raised a brow. She’d never heard him sound so hesitant. “Anything.” 

He didn’t say anything right away, not meeting her eyes. “Do you...think your...I mean, what do you think...you know…”

“Spit it out.” 

He huffed. “Do you think your parents would have approved of...us?” 

She blinked in surprise. Again. He never failed to surprise her. She didn’t have to have the Force to know he didn’t mean her biological parents. “You’ve waited three kids and how many years of marriage to ask me that? I didn’t even think you cared about that.” 

“Well...I mean, I would've married you anyway regardless, but...sure. They’re you’re family. Our family. That’s important.” 

She stared at him. “Even now? Even though they...even though you’ll never get to meet them?” 

“Even now.” 

Leia blew out a breath, then looked back at the calm water as she seriously considered. “Well. They definitely would have objected to us marrying.” 

“Yeah?” He didn’t sound offended, or even all that surprised. 

“Yeah, but I don’t think that means they wouldn’t have liked you personally. There’s just certain expectations of royals.” 

“Outdated expectations, if you ask me.” 

“I agree, obviously.” she managed a small smile. “And I don’t think they would have stopped us if that’s what I really wanted.” 

“That’s good, right?” 

“Naturally.” She thought some more, matching her parents' personalities up with what they’d told her during her teenage years. “You probably would have charmed my mother.” 

“I always charm the ladies. That’s not a big surprise.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, laser brain.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not that charming. You just have an insane amount of luck and persistence.” 

“And it doesn’t hurt that I’m devilishly handsome, right?” He teased, wolfish grin in place. 

No. It definitely didn’t hurt. Not at all. But she made no comment on that. No sense in swelling his ego any more than it already was.  “My father definitely would have objected to you. Actually, he and I might have butted heads over my dating you. He might've said, What does a twenty-nine-year old smuggler from Corellia want with a nineteen-year-old princess from Alderaan? And he wouldn’t have been wrong.” 

“My intentions were always pure…” 

“Uh huh.” She grinned. “Sure they were. But, after we got married and had the twins, he would've softened up. Especially over the twins. They would have worked their charismatic magic on him, and he would have been putty in their little hands. Then I think he’d probably have become your best friend.” 

“It’s always the grandkids that get the in-laws to relax. Especially the father-in-laws.” Han laughed. 

“That they do.” She agreed and then turned to him. “Did that answer your question?” 

“Depends. You didn’t say any of that just to make me feel better, did ya?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Never.” She shook her head, leaned in and kissed him again, longer this time. Deeper. 

When they pulled away, Han asked, “Would you do it again? If you woke up tomorrow and had the option of going back and doing it all over again, would you change anything or would you keep things the same?” 

“Wow. You’ve got a lot of hard hitting questions tonight, don't you. I feel like I’m being interviewed for a holovid.” But she knew he was serious, so again she treated the question with the seriousness it deserved, taking a few minutes to mull over all they'd seen and been through. “I wish there were things during the war I could change, yes...just so that not so many good, innocent people died.” 

“Including your parents?”

 She nodded. “Especially them. Especially my home planet.” As it usually did, speaking about Alderaan caused her heart to constrict in her chest, but like she normally did with those feelings, she pushed it aside and moved on. “But if changing things meant losing you?” 

She paused. 

She was always one to put duty first. She'd been raised as a royal princess. Duty before self-interests came with the title and was second nature to her way of being. She’d made judgement calls during the Rebellion that put the good of the group above the good of the individual repeatedly. Hell, her decision to do just that on the Death Star had led to her home and family being destroyed in front of her own eyes. 

But would she give up Han? 

He was her life partner. Her soulmate. Her equal. He supported her just as much as she supported him. Even when he didn’t agree, he was there for her. He accepted her as she was, flaws and all, just as she accepted him. There were so many things she couldn’t have done alone that she was able to accomplish because they had each other’s backs. Han had become her other half, without her consciously realizing it. Without him, her life was bleaker...and of course, far less interesting. 

“No.” Han’s brows shot up in surprise, but she didn’t find herself particularly shocked by her answer. “I’ve given up so much in my life for Alderaan, for the Rebellion, for the galaxy. But you...I don’t want to give you up. Not ever by choice.” 

He blinked at her. “Really?” 

It was too dark to tell, but she thought his voice hitched as though he were getting choked up, something her husband almost never did.

“Really.” She promised, smiling up at him softly, tenderly, but no less affirmatively.

He stared at her, as though memorizing her, or the moment they were in. “I love you, Leia.” 

She grinned. “I know.” 

Then his lips were on hers, but this time they were hot and fierce, as though her words had opened a floodgate of emotion he could no longer contain. She wrapped her arms around his neck, climbing into his lap as she kissed him back with as much fervor as she could muster. 

“What do you say we take this to the bedroom?” Han asked between kisses, his voice a deep husky whisper.

 “That’s my favorite question you've asked, by far.” She replied back just as breathlessly. Han made a pleased sounding growl deep in his throat, and moments later she was whisked up into his strong arms, being carried back into their private bedchamber, her soft laughter sweet music to his ears.

No. She couldn't - and wouldn’t - give this man up. Not ever. And she thanked the Force, the stars, and anything else that would listen to her, that they’d found one another in the vastness of the galaxy. 

Because their love was fated. It was destiny. 

It was the will of the Force. 

And for Leia, that was the best reason of all to indulge in this very special second honeymoon.

[magicalsalamander]

Threads of a Resurgent

⍖ Pairing▹ BTS Namjoon ⇆ Reader

⍖ Genre▹ Grim Reaper| Witch | Horror | Fluff| Angst|

⍖ Warning▹ rated Mature; Graphic depictions of death and gore, main character death, necromancy, traumatic events, blood, animal sacrifice (not detailed), witchcraft inaccuracies, explicit language and horror themes.

⍖ Summary▹ That dress. It was all because of that tainted dress. The dress you found at a second-hand store wasn’t just a pretty thing on the rack. When the grim reaper sits across from you telling you he’s come to collect, your life takes a turn. However, he made a mistake..a grave mistake. The threads of the Resurgent begin to unravel as you and the Grim Reaper are unleashed on an adventure tangled by threads. How will you mend the threads and save your soul in time before he collects you?

⍖ Word▹31.6K

⍖ A/N▹ Hope you’re still in the mood for something spooky. I apologize for the grammar errors in advance, I will correct them asap. I made a dictionary for you to keep open while you read so you can refer to things. I hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! Gif source unknown, but I don’t take credit for it [if you know please let me know].

⇴ Masterlist | Book of Spells [Dictionary] | Moodboard 

The hangers clacked as you shoved articles of clothing past like an abacus. The clothes were so tightly packed on the rack that hangers were sticking out in all directions. Your face was in a permanent scowl as you picked through the thorn bush. Shopping hasn’t ever been a pastime that you would put high on your list of fun activities. It had its scarce perks and all, but the process was always a long journey: picking clothes, trying on clothes in a scrutinizing mirror, then returning 99% of the items to an underpaid fitting room attendant. Rinse and repeat. However, here you were, on Friday evening, rummaging through a second-hand thrift store’s dress section to find something to wear for a date in about an hour.

You kept pushing past ugly polka dotted dresses, grandmother moo moos, overtly ruffle dresses then you stopped counting. You pushed another bead on the abacus when you stopped counting when something seemed to glow, call to you. You found the one. It must’ve been a rich-woman’s dress at some point. It was a simple black dress, but there was beauty in its minimalism. You assumed it made it here because of that stupid rule: wear it once then never again.

Who came up with that rule anyways?

You happily unhooked it from the rack, but it snagged when it was halfway out. It got caught in the thorns of about three other hanging pieces. You grunted and tried jangling the pieces loose, but the hangers were as messy as headphones in a pocket. After a few minutes of trying to figure it out you were nearly placing your foot on the rack to yank it out. This is ridiculous, but you weren’t going to settle on a polka dotted dress. One tug, two, then on your last heave you heard ripping and gasp from your lips with the liberated dress finally in your hands. You stumbled backwards and held the dress up in victory, but your smile turned into a heavy frown. The dress had a slit up the side from where a metal hook from another hanger ripped the delicate fabric. You just found something, and you ruined it in a matter of seconds.

After looking at it for a bit longer, you quite liked the new look. A risqué notch up the thigh gave the dress bonus points, perfect for date night. You checked the price tag with a satisfied smile, twenty bucks was doable on your budget. No further torture was needed, end of discussion, you found the dress!

You ran up to the counter, bought the dress, then ran back to the changing room. You changed out of your professional wear that you wore to the office earlier into the dress. Luckily you were already wearing accessories and shoes that transitioned easily. You checked yourself and swiped on a fresh coat of lipstick smacking your lips. You checked your watch, you had fifteen minutes to make it across town. You ran out the store and hailed a taxi. You took a deep breath as you sunk into the leather seat and crossed your fingers in your lap. You stared out the window watching the cityscape change, you hoped this went well.

You watched the flickering orange candle light in the reflection of the large window from your booth. Pattering rain hit the glass distorting the small light, but your reflection stared right back at you clearly. For the past hour some people ran past while others were covering themselves with umbrella to fend off the sudden rain. Luckily the rain started when you were inside the café. Couples giggled as they clutched onto eachother and some kids splashed in puddles only to be scolded by their parents seconds later.

The cooper bulb lights couldn’t completely wash out the overcast sky and heavy rain, nor the apparent absence besides you. Your hands felt cold despite trying to warm them up around the tea you ordered just to warm you up. Nothing changed that awkward feeling sitting in your stomach. You had been stood up.

You heavily sighed and looked to the empty seat across from you. It’s been over an hour and a half since you were supposed to meet. You looked around the nook café, although it was slotted between two popular brick and mortars, it was empty. You were the only patron in the establishment. The once burning espresso machines had cooled and the strong aroma of espresso had dulled to a dainty waft. The exhausted barista yawned, possibly bored out of their mind. They tossed their hand towel over their shoulder and disappeared into the back.

You ran a hand through your hair with a heavy sigh. It wasn’t about being stood up that upset you, it was the principal of the matter! You spent money—hard earned money—on a new dress, a taxi, a cup of tea and it wasn’t even worth it. You couldn’t even return the dress!

You reached down and traced a finger along the ripped seam up your thigh. Risqué notch my ass…it was just torn and got you an extra five dollars off this piece of junk. What if the rip was foretelling you that this wasn’t a good idea; perhaps an ominous foreshadowing you overlooked?

The depression of air wheezed out of the cushion as someone slide into the booth across from you. You looked up and met the dark eyes of a stranger. The tall stranger leaned back, resting one arm across the back of the chair. He was dressed in a sharp black suit that covered his lean body. His dirty-blonde hair was pushed back out of his face, but a few tendrils straggled on his forehead. The sinister look on his face, sharp scrutinizing eyes, and cocky demeanor washed over you like a cold shower. You didn’t dare to shiver, but your dilated pupils trembled.

“I’ve come to collect.”

You swallowed saliva you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You looked around the cafe and found the place completely empty. It was just you…and this stranger. Collect? Maybe this dude was mistaken or intoxicated. “What?” Stupefied you answered.

He scoffed running his thumb over his plump bottom lip, then clasped his hands, hunching over the table. He was only a single man, but his presence filled up the whole booth. He lifted his head, messy bangs fully covering his forehead. He looked through his lashes at you, eyes darkening by the second. For a second you were sure smoke filtered between his pearly white teeth as he smirked, “Oh, don’t play dumb now.”

You looked out the window and the foot traffic had stopped completely, but the rain still was heavily trickling, heavier than before. Uneasiness settled in your stomach, something was not right about this guy. “I’m sorry you must’ve gotten the wrong person,” you were running out a patience. You scooted out of the booth, done dealing with this creep. You didn’t have a coat or umbrella, so you were going to have to make a run for it.

He remained in his seat hands still folded on the table. He kept unwavering eye contact with you from his spot, “You can’t keep running from what you’ve done. I have to collect.”

You busted at the seams, “I don’t have any debt! I just paid off my credit cards and stud—.” It hit you, “Sir, are you—are you…,” you leaned in a bit hushing your raised tone, “a part of the mafia or something?”

He chuckled throwing his head back in fake laughter, “Does changing now make you lose your memory?”

You had enough from this crazy, admittedly handsome—but insane guy! You snatched your purse turning around to leave. What a terrible night this has been. You’re going to throw this dress away, fifteen dollars or not, then yourself onto your bed when you get home.

You took about two steps and apparated before you in a blink of an eye. You gasped nearly running face first into him, “Whoa—What? How did—?”

His pupils engulfed his eyes in a deep black engulfing the sclera of his eyes. You could feel his hot breath on your cheeks as he growled out, “Pay-the-price!” He grabbed onto your elbow and dragged you towards the entrance of the café.

“Let go of me! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” His grip was nearly bone crushing. Through the pain you screamed, “LET GO!” You were pulled along regardless of your protest. You looked for staff, anyone, to help but no one was there to save you. Your heart was racing out of your chest, “Let me GO!”

He ripped open the entrance door, a cold front rushed over you both, but his large figure took the blunt of it. He pulled you along through the threshold, “Stop!” You expected to be pelted by rain, but instead the world warped around you, neon commercial lights whirlpool and turned into darkness that took a new life as a hazy blue-grey dense fog. He kept pulling you along with him unaffected by the transition. Nausea churned your stomach in an unfriendly manner. Your brain felt like static causing you to stumble over your own feet when your feet settled on uneven, gravelly terrain. His insistent pulling progressed you both onwards.

Where were you?

You couldn’t see anything clearly besides him in this nightmare-scape; until, in the dense fog, you began to pass trees that were characterized by their dark trunks and chaotic roots that were like spider legs sticking out the ground. This place left so much up to the imagination. Every muscle in your body was aching to run away, to fight, bite his hand even, but that fog—it felt alive. Whatever was out there in it could make the bravest being claustrophobic.

This must be the gateway to hell.

Coming from your right then left you heard the crunching of dead leaves. From the dark haze, the imagination begins to fill with horrors. Silhouetted human figures passed in different direction between the tress, but they didn’t turn towards us they kept their wandering demeaner. The fog was alive!

“Wh-Where are you taking me?” You whisper yelled it to him, afraid to attract the attention of those wandering figures in this passing hell. The ma—demon holding you hostage kept his pace graciously gliding in the fog. The silence between you was scarier.

A dark hill appeared and in short realization you realized it was a cave. He kept dragging you towards it with a sinister smile blooming on his face. Breaking through the susurration, the sound of heavy limbs being dragged was eerily followed by the crunching of bones and the mushing sound of moist flesh. The morbid sounds echoed through the forest as if it was hollow as it emanated through the cave.

Your jaw dropped in a silent scream, the nausea turned into cramps, replacing itself with a guttural twisting horror. Your heart was beating so fast that everything seemed to move in slow motion. The closer we got it reeked of death and sorrow—sulfur, methane, and burned fat. You tried sticking your heels into the ground, but he dragged you along easily. “Please, I don’t know anything, just let me go!”

The mouth of the cave greeted us with an infinite darkness and your shadows dissolved into it. Your captor chanted rapidly like a hissing snake in a voice so low and deep. A raging blue fire came to light as we suddenly stopped. You jelly legs nearly tripped over something as you came to a halt, you looked down realizing it was shards of bones. You let out a scream and pulled back, screamed louder when the formidable cave dweller came to life.

The beast feeling the heat roared in distress and moved away from the fire towards you. The colossal chains attached at its ankles rattled as it slugged forward with growls of its own. The two-ton behemoth legs and arms were thin compared to his protruding gut resembling someone with Cushing disease; except that gut was filled with digesting bodies while the souls were sent to pits. His protruding, bare torso was covered in old and fresh guts and other bodily fluids. It’s disgusting greyish, purple body was that of a human, but the head was that of a boar with horns sticking out its oversized jaw. It had a partially devoured femur in its thick hand that swung listlessly as he moved.

The beast eyes were pupilless, cloudy grey, and it searched out its victims with its other heightened senses. Your involuntary noises lead the beast to whip its head right towards you. All the suppression up until this point was peaking up your throat, you were going to throw up from fear.

Your captor spoke to the beast, “Edax Animae! I return the obliquatur pythonissam who cheated Statera and you!”

You were violently trembling, what had you done wrong? You’ve never crossed anyone, nor had you done something so terrible to deserve this! Did you do something absolutely stupid in college that’s haunting you now? Maybe when you stole Stacey’s crayons in second grade, but you swear you put it back right after using it. You swear you’ve lived fairly straight edge your whole life.

You were tugging and scratching and digging your nails into his hand with your other, “Let me go! I didn’t do anything. I swear!” Your nails were causing his hands to redden with thick scratch marks, yet he didn’t make a face or loosen his grip on you. “PLEASE!”

The beast roared and stepped towards you again, but his chains yanked him back. Fear engulfed your conscience, you screamed in your throat, pulling back, yanking hard but you could only get back as far as your arm’s length. The beast dropped the femur with a gross smack of flesh. You could feel tears dripping down your face without your conscious choice. You were going to die. You were going to get eaten alive.

“Please, please, please!” Your captor pushed you forward mercilessly, you landed at the feet of the monster. You couldn’t look up, tears streamed down your face in a steady stream. The beast wobbled forward like a toddler, blubbering blood out of its mouth. It dripped down the side of its lips and onto its torso. You cowered backwards, legs dragging on the rocky dirt, his looming colossal shadow began to engulf you. It heavily panted with each step. Hovering over you, the beast suddenly stopped and huffed a deep growl.

Your captor shouted at the monster, “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?” The monster huffed again turning its stout away from you, “What-do-you-mean!”

He violently stomped over to you, bones cracking under his dress shoes, eyes completely black. He grabbed onto the hemline of your dress.

You try shoving his hands away, “What are you doing!”

“Stay still,” it was a command. He ripped a piece of your dress off where the thigh had already been cut, leaving you with an inverse scallop cut. You yelped and tried pulling the torn edge down, “Don’t move.” Your hands stilled.

He presented it to the beast and it craned its stout a few times seeking out his hand then heavily sniffed it. The beast roared again then panted like a dog, giddy about the fabric. Your captor tossed the fabric at the bottom of the monster’s feet. The monster bent down onto its knees searching for it with its snout and shoveled it in its snout and swallowed it. The beast grunted after making an audible gulp swallowing the fabric. They exchanged growls and grunts, your captor some Latin that you couldn’t understand. “You gotta be fucking with me! Just when…this-this isn’t?” He pulled at his hair in frustration, his anger shook the walls of the cave, loose rocks tumbled from their spot.

You backed away avoiding falling rocks from the ceiling. You backed up without looking and hit the cave wall with a thud. At the noise the beast made direct eye contact with you, its cloudy grey eyes focused in your direction. You froze and held your breath, it’s gaze held a hypnotic grip on your throat. Drool dripped from the side of its jaw and boiled as it hit the rustic mud digesting shards of bone on the spot.

You captor held his hand out, hissing, “Flax!” In his hand from a cloud of black smoke appeared a scythe. Your captor strode his way over to you, easily flipped the scythe around and held the long blade to your throat. You winced closing your eyes and when you opened them you could see your reflection in the blade as you took a quick glance down at it.

“Aren’t you a witch! She put you up to this didn’t she! Where is she?”

You shivered, “Witch? No! Look I don’t know what you’re pulling here—!”

The monster grunted again, and your captor closed his eyes in frustration. “That Witch!” Your captor exploded, black smoke rolled out of his mouth. He pulled his scythe away from your neck.

You shuttered and eyes bulge at the supernatural occurrence. Who...who was this guy! What was all this! You thought that this stuff was only fictional, yet a beast and whatever this guy was in front of you really existed!

The monster begins heaving like a dog and it throws up the piece of fabric it just digested, along with some other things you couldn’t make out.

You beg, “Just take me back, I’ll forget all this, I won’t say anything, just take me back home.”

He growled toxic smoke pouring from his mouth, “I can’t take you back!”

You yelled back, fear making you lose your temper, “Why? Why can’t you? Just take me back! I said I’ll forget—.” You flinched as the monster began moving towards the back of the cave again.

“You can’t forget this!” He yelled, veins in his neck popping. He recentering himself quickly, pointed to your body with his scythe, “You wore that dress…you’re tainted.”

Dress? What does this dress have to do with any of this? Tainted? “I don’t care about the dress. Just take me back!”

He sighed clanking the stem of his scythe once on the floor and it disappeared into thin air. He walked out of the cave and ignorantly you followed him like lightening was at your feet into the dense fog again. You kept close to him. You could run, but where would you go? Become one of the wondering souls? You had to persuade him to take you back home. More importantly, you needed answers.

He spoke as he walked, “That dress belonged to a resurgent. It was worn by that-that witch when they died then resurrected. A piece of their soul is attached to that dress.”

You almost felt relieved for a moment, your hands were wiped clean, this was all a mistake and you could go home. You just needed to get rid of the dress, done deal.

He spat the last words. “The fact that you wore it…that piece of her—necromancy it’s sticky—it’s tainted you. That’s why you were mistaken for her.”

He slowed his pace, “Your soul is hers and until her debt is paid, you’re tainted.”

The color dropped out of your face.

He stopped in a clearing and turned around facing you with a sad expression. “And if her soul isn’t collected in time…,” he looked you directly in the eye, “yours will be.”

Your knees gave way and you collapsed like a ragdoll. Fresh tears streamed down your cheeks. He kneeled and lifted your chin and wiped away your tears. You flinched when he touched you expecting to be hit or worse. He pulled his hands back, frown deepening, “I won’t hurt you. I know it’s hard to believe, but I won’t hurt you.” His black eyes receded into something more humanistic again. His demeanor took a one hundred and eighty, but his face was still stern. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I really am.” This was low, he’s never known it was possible to split the soul. But here you were, proving everything he thought wrong.

The tears continued to stream down your face, he tried wiping each of them away. He genuinely felt terrible, he had brought an innocent mortal into Limbo and showed them something you should have never seen. Never. However, you weren’t just an innocent mortal anymore, “But…until I can find her and bring her soul to Satera…we have to remain together.”

You screeched out, “Together!”

“I will find the resurgent.” He stood up taking your hand and gently helping you up, going as far as to dusting you off. He shrugged off his blazer and wrapped it around your shoulders. “But in the meantime, you and I are connected as well.”

You tried shrugging his coat off before it touched your shoulders, “Will this taint my soul too?” You were suspicious of everything.

He laughed, the straight-faced man laughed, dimples even appeared on his cheeks. He was quite good looking when he wasn’t threatening your life. He shrugged and placed it around your shoulders again, “Just be grateful Keres didn’t come to find you.”

You asked, “Who?”

His face went dumbstruck, “Oh.” He cleared his throat, “My sister…she would not be as kind if she were assigned you.”

“Assigned?”

He chuckled, “You have so many questions.”

You sputtered out in disbelief, “Who are you?”

“The mortals call me Thanatos, at least they used to about two thousand years ago, or the Grim Reaper more recently.”

Your jaw dropped, and spat out, “Death, YOUR death!”

He laughed again, “The one and the only.”

He held out his hand, “I can satisfy one of your requests, I’ll take you home.” You were too stunned to say anything and before you knew it you were traveling again.

You stumbled as you emerged, but he caught your arm, gently this time. He straightening you out, “You alright?”

You panted, “How-how do you do that?”

He smirked, “Comes with the job.”

He took you to your front door, for a short moment you wondered how he knew where you lived but you felt he had his ways there too. He stopped you from going inside, “I’m going to find out more…information. If you need me, call me.”

You looked at him inquisitively, “How am I supposed to call you?”

“Just say my name.”

“Reaper?”

He shook his head and scuffed his shoe, surprisingly shy, “Namjoon, my real name is Namjoon.”

You tested the name on your tongue, “Namjoon.”

He nodded, “Keep the blazer, and call me when you need me.”

You took the hint, “My name’s Y/n.”

He turned around once more, “Oh, Y/n, don’t tell anyone about this.” You wanted to scoff, but you swallowed it, nodded in understanding instead. Who would believe you if you told them anyways?

“Good night, Y/n,” he vanished in the next second in a cloud of black smoke.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Magic, the supernatural, beast, monster, and God knows whatever else you hadn’t seen with your eyes yet exist. Magic exists.

Before you knew it, it was Friday again. The whole week after you felt like a zombie, like your own body didn’t belong to you. You were still questioning if it all was just a bad dream, a twisted nightmare. The bruises from his hard grip were there…his blazer was still with me and that dress…I still had that dress. You had hooked up the dress on a hanger and left it on a hook behind your door. You didn’t know what to do with it. You didn’t know if you threw it away or that would only make things worse. The best solution you could come up with was “out of sight, out of mind”.

You came home around nine, Fridays were always hell at the office. Your coworkers were making you pay since you took last Friday off early, it was your turn to shoulder a majority of the work. Your manager would pile on work that he’d been slacking on during the week onto the team. Instead of getting off at five like everyone else, you’d usually get off the earliest at eight at minimum.

You treated yourself with a long shower to wash away the stress. You dried yourself off and replaced the towel back on the rack and slipped on fresh underwear you had set out for yourself. You lived alone, so you often went around your apartment practically nude. You stepped up to the white counter humming a tune; showers always eased your mind. The medicine cabinet open with a magnetic click, mechanically following your night routine taking out your toner, moisturizer, and toothpaste from the neat shelf.

When you closed the cabinet, getting a good look of yourself in the mirror, you noticed thick, black flakes of mascara was still caked under your eye. You heavily sighed and dug into a drawer and pulled out a pack of cotton pads, tossing them on the counter with a crunch of the plastic. You reached over scavenging between your scented lotions and perfumes for your makeup remover. You really needed to get rid of some of those lotions and perfumes. You popped open the bottle and generously dowsed a cotton pad. You looked back up and begin wiping away at the black clots under your eye. In a way this was therapeutic as well, removing physical sludge was oddly satisfying.

You tossed the dirty cotton pad in the trash and turned back to the mirror checking your work. In the corner of your eyes you caught something moving behind you. You whipped around, but nothing was there. You stared for a few more moments waiting for the trickery to happen again, but nothing, there was nothing there. Despite just taking a steaming hot shower, an icy draft came over the room. Goosebumps welted all over your body. You rubbed over your arms and shrugged it off. A draft from under the door must’ve swept in and you must’ve had a flake of mascara in your eye. You turned back to the mirror, but the hair on the back of your neck was still at attention. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing. You’re spooking yourself you idiot.”

You kept looked over your shoulder a few times despite your assuring monologue as you finished up your routine. You massaged in the excess moisturizer into your neck and the wiped rest on your towel. You opened the medicine cabinet and put the products back faster than you normally would. That eerie feeling you couldn’t seem to escape was traveling down your spine, but you choose to ignore it.

It was just your imagination.

You picked up your toothbrush and applied a dollop of paste then ran it under water. You popped it in your mouth then closed the cabinet. You scrubbed your teeth and pulled your eyes back up to meet your reflection. The lights flickered encroaching you in darkness for a split second. When the lights turned back on, your reflection was accompanied.

A wasting figure began to rise in the intervals as the lights flickered. You screamed at the top of your lungs, the toothbrush dropped from your mouth clanking in the ceramic sink. You watched as the being built itself from cavities to limbs that looked Frankenstein when it was fully equipped. Your clean scent was being stained by the heavy earthen smell of soil accompanied by a smell of death. The room filled with complete darkness for a heartbeat, then a feminine figure replaced the Frankenstein when the light came on. The dark figure behind you shushed you and snaked a hand around your neck holding you in place; although, you were frozen on the spot from fear and couldn’t move regardless. As she leaned in to you her cold chest pressed into your back, she hooked her pointy chin on your shoulder you got a good look at the figure’s face. She was a gorgeous woman with sharp features, deep eyes and long, silky black hair.

She brushed your wet hair behind your ear and whispered into your ear, “So we meet.” She chuckled in satisfaction knowing she had terrified you, “We meet my pretty.” Her eyes met your bulging eyes in the mirror. There was a hollowness within them that couldn’t be conjured even in someone’s worst nightmare. An image you wouldn’t ever be able to erase no matter how hard you tried.

“It was hard finding you, you hide yourself pretty well.” You had no idea you were hiding, much less hiding from her. It clicked, this was the woman the Reaper was speaking of. This was the Witch!

“Someone finally bought my dress, I’ve been waiting for someone to come save me.” She whispered in your ear, “What a fine sacrifice you’ll be. You have such a pure soul too, Satera will surely be pleased when you take my place.”

You shakily got out with a heavy bob of your throat, “Who-who are you?”

She chuckles, “You’ll find out soon.” She held onto you tighter and dragged her sharp nails across your neck imitating a knife. “When the day comes, I will come for you and my name will be your last words.”

In the next second, she vanished just as quickly as she appeared, her sinister laughter echoed off the bathroom tiles.

You found your breath again and clutched at the counter top trying to regain balance. Where she had ran her finger burned, your hand covered the mark neck on instinct. You focused on breathing, but her words echoed in your head.

This was real. The resurgent was real, the dress was hers, and she knows where you live. The resurgent found you! You were tainted. Tangled in a promise, you were going to become that image that brought you feared.

You ripped off your underwear and scrubbed your whole body with scalding hot water. It felt like her smell was heavy gunk on you, especially where she had touched you. You scrubbed until your skin was raw and the steam began to reek of your body wash. You broke down crying. It wasn’t a dream, this was real, she was real.

You’re tainted.

It was at least a half hour before you came out of the shower. You wrapped a different towel around yourself and stuck to the wall as you walked down the hall to your bedroom. You felt so exhausted. You slip on a new pair of underwear and unusually pajamas and what you think is your robe, you aren’t really paying attention. You needed to feel covered.

You walked out of your bedroom towards the living room when a voice called to you. “Are you alright? Why’d you call me?”

You screamed using your already raw throat past its limit and held onto your robe with a deathly grip. You turned towards Namjoon, recognizing the voice, “What is wrong with you!”

He took in your red figure and bloodshot eyes, but what was most surprising was you were wearing his blazer, “What’s wrong Y/n?”

You sunk against the wall, the way he looked at you made you cave in, “She-She was in the bathroom with me. ShecameupbehindmewhenIclosed the-the—,” deep inhale, ”mirrorandheldup her-her knifes to my neck!”

Namjoon bolted towards you picking you up before you sunk to the floor. He held your hands, stopping your flailing hands to get a look at your neck. Thick lines were inflamed across your neck. He could smell it too, a faint smell of death lingering on your skin. He weighted frown settled on his lips, this wasn’t supposed to happen. She had found you despite the protection you had because of his blazer. He had even placed one on the apartment when he left that night. He wasn’t expecting her ever to find you, much less taunt you. He thought he’d have more time, a year, before she went out looking for you.

Blubbering your words, “She said, ugggnnnhhh.”

“Shhh, Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

He had made an indirect promise to keep you safe, to figure this out, yet he wasn’t keeping it. You nearly died and right under his nose. Guilt bubbled in his stomach, how much more could he mess up?

“Pack some stuff and let’s go.”

You looked up at him in surprise, “Oh no, I’m not falling for that again.”

He frowned, “She’s only going to come back.”

“Where am I going to go? I have nowhere to go.” You raised your hand to your mouth nibbling on your thumb. Wouldn’t she follow you anywhere? Was anywhere safe?

He stepped back, “With me, you can stay with me. I have a house just outside the city. Until I can get this place cleansed you can’t come back here.”

“With you!” You scoffed, suddenly remembering your connection and pushing away from him. You still haven’t forgiven him, or completely trusted him. “I’m not going anywhere with you, the last time I did I nearly died! How do I know you’re not going to just do the same?”

He sighed, “The blazer, you have my blazer.”

“What about it.”

“Just like she has a piece of you,” he pulled at the lapel for emphasis, ”with that, you have a piece of me.”

You finally looked at what you were wearing, and you realized you had his blazer on. A hot flush covered your cheeks, and it deepened as you realized the intensity of what it really meant.

“Your soul is in this blazer?”

“The uniform is like a vessel, just like that dress. It holds a small bit of me, but it doesn’t harm you or transfer, instead…it protects you.”

You lessened your grip around the lapels, feeling a bit guilty for treating it so carelessly. For doubting his sincerity, it was just hard to trust anyone at this point. You still didn’t know if you could trust him fully yet though, he needed to earn that from you.

You ran a hand through your still wet hair, “Won’t she just follow me to your place.”

He smiled, “I’ll be there to protect you then if she does.”

You couldn’t find it in you to argue with him. Fiercely flicking your wrist, you pointed to your eyes then at him jabbing it a few times in his direction for emphasis, “ I’m trusting you, so…okay, give me a minute.”

“Leave the dress.” You didn’t bother answer him, you figured that much, and continued walking away to your room.

He watched as you walked away wrapped in his blazer with a quirk in his brows. You didn’t take it off after he pointed it out instead he watched you wrap it around you tighter.

What had he gotten himself into?

You weren’t capable of handling the responsibility of driving given your shaken state. He drove the both of you in your car over to his home with a stuffed duffle bag in the trunk. He drove twenty minutes away from your apartment to a suburban neighborhood where the streets were quiet and the homes were far apart from one another and well out of your budget. You had no idea this part of your city existed, maybe because you hadn’t lived here your whole life.

He pulled up to a stone pillared gate that had an elegant white fence concealing the estate from the outside world. On each side were two grand stone dogs that had their jaws open mid bark. He didn’t need to press a remote as they opened automatically for him. He drove in slowly away from the tarmac road onto a sun stone paved driveway. Along the driveway on both sides were various floral plants, shrubbery and trees. You could only assume much because it was so late and very dark, but the yard seemed to go on about a mile out. When he parked the car in front of the garage you were gawking at the huge, two story white transitional home. Lights were on inside of the home outpouring warm orange light that was so welcoming. You weren’t expecting this in the least, the white especially.

The first intelligent words out of your mouth were, “Wow, this home is beautiful.”

He smiled, “Thanks, just got it today.”

You looked at him, jaw hanging open. Today? Did he say today?

He shrugged, “Perks of being a Reaper.”

He got out of the car and opened the trunk. You came to your senses and flung the car door open and took your bag before he could. You didn’t want to impose any further on him. He chuckled under his breath and politely pointed towards the house for you to follow him. You stepped up a short staircase to a mid-size dark wood front door and engraved in the wood was an inverted torch. Ivy clung to border of the door and the white walls of the home and wrapped itself around the hanging lanterns. There was something mysterious about this place, it felt so magical.

Your eyes bulged as he opened the front door revealing the inside of his home. You weren’t in Kansas anymore that’s for sure, maybe not even Earth. He walked past you with natural ease, his dress shoes clicking on the polished marble flooring. When you were still standing outside, he looked back, “Take off your shoes and come in. My place is your place.”

You forced off your shoes hopping a bit, your duffle bag making you slightly lop sided, “What do you mean just go it today?”

He shrugged, “I don’t live ‘here’ per say…or anywhere really, so I got this place.”

You were about to question for more answers, but he left you standing there alone in the entry way. He walked through the house confidently to the kitchen. He opened the double doors of the fridge and looked over his shoulder, “Hungry?”

You deadpanned, “You know how to cook?”

He bit his lip, “No, but I can try. It seems easy.”

You were dumbfounded. This home was completely furnished, fully stocked and it looked like he had lived here for a while. It had that lived in cozy feel with the simple architecture but defining décor in a monochrome palette.

He dropped an assortment of vegetables on the table and slung a knife out the knife rack and begun cutting a carrot. When he depressed the knife half of the carrot flew right in front of you and across the room. You broke out of your stupor and ran over to him taking the knife from his hand, “No, no, no, you may be the Grim Reaper but stay away from cooking. I’ll cook, you do Reaper stuff…or something.”

He pouted then chuckled, “Are you sure? I can help at least.”

You picked a few vegetables out of the bunch, “Put the rest away and then wash these ones.” He followed orders easily and you were able to pick some more things out of the cabinets, and a dash of seasoning here and there. He found an apron for you to wear, “Don’t get the blazer dirty.”

You took off the blazer and placed it carefully over the back of a chair. You wrapped it around you, you didn’t even realize you left your house still wearing pajamas and his blazer. Your cheeks heated up, but you kept your eyes on the frying pan.

You plated two plates of stir fry in half an hour flat. You wiped the sweat off your brow, “Let’s eat.”

Namjoon sat down at the table eying the food like you had the house, “Wow.”

You laughed as you slid into the dinning chair, “It’s just stir-fry.”

He dug in immediately and practically moaned at the taste, “I haven’t had a home cooked meal…ever.”

You nearly dropped your fork, “Ever?”

He nodded but continued to shovel food in his mouth. You smiled and ate your food peacefully across from him. You had barely made it through half your plate when he was serving himself seconds. He was like a vacuum. It was such a simple dish, yet he was treating it like fine dining. You set your fork down after taking your last bite and he shyly looked up at you. He swallowed a lump of food then shoved around a vegetable with his fork suddenly modest, “Thank you for the meal.”

You giggled and took a napkin and gestured it towards the flakes of food around his mouth.  He shyly took it and wiped his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

At this point you had completely forgotten about why you were at his house. However, you didn’t want to remain naïve to that comfort. You cleared your throat, “Who is she?”

He went silent chewing on a vegetable then swallowed it with a gulp of water. “Celina is a powerful resurgent. She’s was even one of the members of the Hecate Council. A council of only the most powerful witches. Her and her sister were one of the greatest witches to ever be a part of the council. However, that wasn’t enough for Celina. Secretly, against Hecate law, she started performing the Dark Arts.

They’re dark arts for a reason, it goes against the natural balance by betraying Hecate law. She learned cursed spells…and necromancy. The biggest sin by betraying Satera to interfere with life and death, but I’m responsible for maintaining the balance by collecting.

Celina was exiled when the council found out, her sister was exiled along with her from the council. Her whole family of prestigious witches was shamed for Celina’s betrayal to the Witch’s Oath.

Celina felt she had more potential than the council limited her to, so she went rogue and fully committed to the Dark Arts. She learned how to use her magic to achieve ‘pseudoimmortality’.

I’ve been chasing her for about a century, but she keeps changing form and finding new…host. But, resurging, it’s something that eventually eats you alive, literally. “

He took a big gulp of water, “She’s learned how to use objects to find her victims.”

He set down his fork and looked you in the eyes conveying a million things to you, but verbal unleashes the truth, “And you…you…happen to have one of them...her next host.”

His words hung heavy on your chest. Celina wasn’t an ordinary witch, she was your puppeteer.

You picked up your dishes and headed towards the sink wanting to distract yourself. Namjoon followed you, “Y/n, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said all that. She won’t bother you again.”

You turned on the faucet then turned towards him, “I know Namjoon. I know.” You took a sponge and rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.

Namjoon stepped in taking the dishes from you, “Guest shouldn’t clean.”

You nudged back in you weren’t raised to stand by, “Who knew the Reaper was so traditional.” He laughed nudging you with his elbow playfully.

He had showed you to a room soon after you both washed the dishes and cleaned up. You followed him up the stairs insisting you could carry your bag just fine. It felt odd being doted on by the Reaper. The second floor was just as impressive as the first. He walked down a warmly lit hall, stuffed bookshelves were about, plants with exotic flowers and figurines. You noticed the reoccurring crest of an inverted torch about the house.

He opened a door theatrically, “Your room.” He allowed you to walk in first. You looked around your room in awe, the room resembled a high-class hotel room. Luscious, thick carpet soothed your feet and you were instantly sure this was heaven. Your eyes focused on the queen-sized bed, the other furniture blurred as your eyes just focused on that single piece. You walked forward and tested it out by face planting into the comforter. Around you the fluffy comforter huffed as the air trapped within the fabric released sinking you into the softness.

Namjoon laughed from the doorway then trailed in and set your bag down by the edge of the bed, “Do you need anything?” You rubbed your heads into the comforter mumbling out no. He looked over his shoulders and smiled, you had already knocked out in a matter of seconds.

As soon as the door shut softly, the smile on his face dropped. His eyes swirled, and eyes turned black. He turned down the hall holding out his hand and in it apparated his scythe. His body slowly morphed as he dissolved into rolling, fine black dust as he dissipated. There were serious matters to deal with.

When you came down the stairs in the morning you found a note on the kitchen counter along with a key for the house for you to take. You went to work like normal, you felt protected. This route actually made it easier to get to and from work. When you came home you made dinner for yourself and Namjoon. He popped in unexpectedly appearing in the kitchen like a ghost, “I’m home.” You shivered tossing the potato you were peeling in your hand as your body trembled in fright. He caught it mid-air, “Whoa!”

You looked at him wide eyed, “Jesus! Don’t do that!” He set the potato down giving you that look of a scolded puppy, “Sorry, it’s just a habit.”

You sighed, at tapped his head like you would a puppy to comfort it. This was something you were going to have to get used to. “It’s okay.”

Over dinner Namjoon told you that it would take two weeks for your apartment to be cleaned. Yesterday you would’ve groaned, but you were quite content here for the meantime. Days passed and you started a routine in your new environment. You started warming up to Namjoon. You’ve come to be comfortable with his supernatural ways. You found out despite his chic exterior, he’s quite the goof ball. You’ve banned him from his own kitchen when he set a pan on fire. On quieter nights you asked him to explain things about the supernatural world and magic. He only confirmed some things, like werewolves were actually a thing, but he refused to go deeper than that. In his words, “There were just things you shouldn’t know.”

You came home through the front door shucking off your shoes. “Namjoon, I’m home!” As soon as your feet touch the cold tile you sigh in relief. Heels, why do they make you wear heels in an office? You make it a few steps into the house and Namjoon appears out of nowhere. You gasp holding a hand over your chest, “Jesus Christ! We’ve discussed this Namjoon, appear like a normal person.”

He chuckled, “Sorry, habitual.” He watched as you stung clung to the nearest item, “Would it make it up to you if I took you out to dinner?”

You raised a brow to him, “Your treat?”

“My treat.”

You smirked, “I guess I can forgive you then, let me get changed.”

He shook his head, “No need. You look nice.” He placed your shoes back in front of you silently bidding you to slip them back on. You wiggled your feet back into your shoes, feet protesting, but you weren’t going to pass up dinner.

He took your hand in his, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You began walking towards the front door again, but Namjoon yanked you back. You stumbled and landed in his chest with a huff and an apology. He wrapped his arms tight around you, and in the next second you were being consumed in smoke, “Namjoon!”

“Calm down, it’s going to be okay.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the darkness rippled around you. You felt the world shifting around you and sudden a biting cold hitting your skin. You fought off the nausea as you staggered on the spot, but Namjoon held you up. You looked around noticing you were in an alleyway. “Namjoon, where are we?”

He took your hand, gently tugging you away, “You’ll see.”

You pulled your coat tighter around you with your free hand shivering a bit. You jogged a bit to walk next to him. Your tongue felt serpentious, “Can I pay you to take me to work in the morning? I’d really like an extra half hour of sleep if you could take me instead.”

A familiar smirk curling his lips, “My powers aren’t your taxi.”

You scoffed mumbling under your breath, “What is this then?” He kept moving forward unhearing of your sarcasm. Your hands were still entangled but you didn’t mind; his hands were very warm like a thermos. Winter was just around the corner, a few weeks before all the rustic leaves would take their final bow.  

The alleyway was an inception as it opened up to one of the busiest streets downtown. You turned onto a smooth sidewalk falling naturally into the flow of pedestrian traffic. Namjoon altered his steps to match your footsteps. Whenever you’re alone going to work you feel the need to constantly look over your shoulder but standing next to Namjoon you don’t feel the need to do so. The walking talisman pulled you closer to the left alternating between people moving maximum speed.  

You joked, “For a second I thought you were going to take me to Limbo again.”

He snorted, “No, no, I don’t plan to ever take you there again, unless—?” He raised a brow suggesting if you did want to, he could.

You punched his arm lightly. He banked further left in the crowd, “Come on.” He pushed a shop’s door open, the bell above dinging announcing your arrivals. The whistling of the espresso machine responded back to your entrance. You look over Namjoon’s shoulder and recognized the establishment. This was the same café where it all started. The familiar cooper lights, the barista with tired eyes, and it lacks the same pollution as the streets you just came from. Namjoon keeps walking and took you over to an empty booth, the same booth you both had met.

Confusion made you furrow your brows. “Why’d you pick this place?”

He waved over the waiter, “I thought this place needed a redemption. You know, give it a chance to be the place it is instead of a place where you got dumped.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, “Who said I got dumped!”

He shrugged, a fire flickering in his eyes, “A pretty lady sitting all alone with an unfinished cup of tea on a Friday night. I just took a wild guess.”

You felt your heart stuttering in your chest, did he call you pretty? You played it off coolly, “He probably was a loser anyways.”

The waiter comes over and leaves menus and glasses of water on the table. As you browse through the menu, “The scariest part about that night was the man who slid into my booth.”

He rolled his eyes, “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

You shrugged. He set down his menu, “Next time wear pants to a date instead of a dress.” Your shoulders shook as you laughed, if only you wore pants that day. You missed it but a glimmer sparked in his eyes, he knew by the redness in your cheeks you were enjoying the teasing.

The waiter came back around and you both order dinner settling on getting the same thing. Not long after does the waiter come with your food. You poke around at your food, “Namjoon, how did you become…the Reaper.”

He looked at you silently while chewing his food, you knew that look. You could practically mock the words he spoke through his eyes: there’s just somethings you shouldn’t know. You ignore the look, “Oh come on Namjoon. Alright, fine, I’ll tell you something about myself then so were even.”

“I moved out here five years ago all by myself, fresh out of college. I wanted to move to the big city thinking that I could do it on my own. I moved in with a roommate after I couldn’t find a decent priced placed for cheap. It was nice because the person I lived with got me a job at the current place I work. She was a cool, but then it turned out she was sleeping with the boss. It got messy and she ended up leaving the company after his wife found out. She left the company and the apartment, so I had to leave. I luckily found the place I’m at now. It was either that or move back home and that was the last thing I could ever want.”

You looked up and made eye contact with the person in same position as Namjoon in the booth behind you. His eyes were wide as he averted his eyes the same time you did. You quickly sipped your hot drink; the steam could easily be blamed for your hot cheeks. You realized a bit too late you shared a bit too much.

He laughed into his coffee cup, not at you but your reaction. Hot liquid splashed onto his upper lips. He hisses and quickly wiped it away while still chuckling to himself.

“Fair enough.” He takes another sip of his coffee despite the sting.

“My great grandfather was the youngest of his siblings and the last to visit the Moirai. The Moirai were three sisters who bestowed fate. My great grandfather was a clumsy man, but an adventurer none the less. He always carried a sickle with him, a gift from his own father, Cronus.

On the day of his bestowment when he turned twenty-five, he was late to his own destiny. He got caught up in one of his adventures. He ran up the stairs of Fate and begged for forgiveness asking for another chance. Morta, one of the three sisters and goddess of death, stood up from her throne upset. She held up his thread with her scissors ready to cut the thread. He protested lunging up to stop Morta from severing his thread. In the process he tripped over his own thread, and when he landed his sickle pierced his heart. His blood tainted the thread and he died on the thread, but his fate didn’t end there. He awoke moments later, eyes completely black, because his blood tainted the thread that Morta was handling he changed his fate. His fate became to be the Reaper.

As a child I never wanted to be the Reaper. I wanted to go into education, teaching music, but that was never my destiny. The Grim Reaper before me was father, but his hour glass broke and fell before his time was up. I was only a boy, asleep in my bed when I was woken up by my Mother and I was told my father had passed. I had to take over immediately, before I turned twenty-five. There wasn’t time to mourn. The pits of hell needed to be tamed, the underworld commanded and to keep the river of Styx’s steady.”

“Why couldn’t your mother inherit the position? Why did you, so young, have to take it on?” You felt a bit of anger boiling, why would an adult put that much pressure on a child?

He smiled endeared by your reaction, “The responsibility is passed down through son. Although, women can be reapers, but they’re known as the Duximina’s. I may be the Grim Reaper, but I only have control of what happens over humans or humans turned supernatural like demons. The Duximina are reapers that can reap the supernatural. I obey Satera, but Duximina’s are of their own accord.”

The rim of your cup had coffee stains that reminded you of pulled waves leaving their foam residue. You ran your finger over the stains, the heat from your fingers softening it up. Namjoon was a young man who lived with the mind of an old man who had known suffering all too well. Although, you didn’t know his age, “How old are you Namjoon?”

He scratched at the underside of his chin jutting his chin in thought, “I stopped aging at twenty-five, because of the ‘curse’, but I will continue to live on until my time is up. I stop keeping track after three hundred, so I’d say—.”

You coughed choking on air, “Thr-three hundred?”

He looked around a few eyes were on you. He gestured with his hand towards them that you were alright, then he reached over patting your back. He passed you a napkin, “Is my age that surprising?”

You smothered the fire burning in your throat, voice hoarse, significantly quieter, “Did you say three hundred?”

He nodded, “I’d ask out of curiosity what’s yours, but I know its rude to ask a woman her age. I don’t want a felines death on my hands.”

“If we count my age in cat years, the cat would surely be dead.”

He bit his lip suffocating a laugh, “Glad I didn’t ask then.”

When you took a deep breath you got out, “Thank you Namjoon, thank you for telling me.”

His eyes softened up and just nodded, not really sure what to say. However, he found telling you easy. You were easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to be with.

The foot traffic slowly trickled outside the window as the night prolonged on. Dinner with death was quite exceptional.

You split from Namjoon when you came home, a shower and a warm bed in your line up. You hummed contently, dinner had put you in bright sprits. You slipped your shirt off and pants changing into something more comfortable when you felt a chill rise your spine. Your nostrils filled with the scent of Earth. You turned towards the window, your curtains were gently flowing in the night breeze. You had this feeling, a pull, telling you to go towards it. You approached the window pulling aside the flowing curtains revealing an empty backyard lit up only by the moonlight. You heard your name being called melodically. You sought out the voice feeling an echo in your chest. It was calling you from somewhere out there. You froze as your eyes focused on a being levitating above the protected grounds outside the boundaries of the property. It was the Witch. Your eyes began to focus on the figure that called out to you in a changing voice that fills your room with her eerie timber. She was so far away yet she has power over you. Despite knowing what she was, you wanted to follow the enticing voice. Threads wrapped around your heart tugging you closer to the window. You brought a hand up to the cold glass, eyes glazing over as you let her control your instincts.

The door flung open, hard enough it put a dent in the wall. Namjoon swept over you like a crow with his expansive arms closing in around you and turning you away from the window. When he broke the spell, you felt like you were punched in the gut. You hunched over into his embrace groaning in pain.

He covered your eyes, “Don’t listen to her.”

He turned you into his chest and you buried your face in his chest covering your ears with your hands. You mumbled nonsense to overpower her spell. From deep within his system lava erupted, “I call upon the hounds.”

In the backyard hell hounds manifest mid stride from vapor. Despite cupping your hands over your ears tugging on your hair, feral barking resonates throughout the room. The sound dimed out until it was nonexistent and you as could only assume they chased the Witch far away.

He took your hands off your ears when it was safe. “Namjoon, what was that?” You clutched at his shirt feeling unsure about your stance.

He sighed, “It wasn’t her, just an animation of her. She can’t come inside these boundaries, don’t worry.”  

Don’t worry? How were you not supposed to worry?

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He closed the window and pulled the curtains. You got back in bed and he sat in the corner of the room like a guard dog. You found it hard to close your eyes, but eventually your eyelids felt heavy. You somehow were able to find sleep.

Days had passed since the animation had shown up. You’ve gone on with your life, there was no there was choice but to keep normalcy.

To keep with normalcy, you were watching TV in the living room. After a long day at work you sprawled out in your comfortable clothes across the couch. Namjoon slumped into the couch with you when he apparated in the living room, this time you didn’t flinch. You didn’t bother turning towards him as he sat, but you passed the popcorn to him. You were watching Family Feud and the host just asked, “Bad jobs for someone who’s accident prone.”

You hummed in thought then responded confidently, “Grim Reaper.”

Namjoon huffed in offense, “Hey!”

You chuckled and he sat through the show with you, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. He squinted, “That doesn’t make sense, why would a lawnmower be a thing you could use to cut vegetables?”

You pointed to the board and said, “Wait for it.”

Then sure enough the host called it and turned to the board and it was on the panel with ten people having suggested it. Namjoon huffed in disbelief, some popcorn waving out of the bowl as he threw his hands in the air.

You took the bowl form him for safety purposes. “The point is you have to think of illogical answers to logical questions. That’s how the game works.”

At some point he began pacing around the couch frustrated that his illogical guesses weren’t illogical enough. When he did start getting one answer right, he sat back down, competitive with the TV. You ended up spending all night on the couch watching a marathon of Family Feud. He looked over to you calling your name, but when you didn’t respond he looked over to you. He realized he was debating on his own and you had fallen asleep curled up on the opposite end of the couch. He turned off the TV and carried you up the stairs like a princess and tucked you in bed. It became routine for you both to watch the show when he came home from wherever he went. You tried asking him where he went, but he gave you a vague response, “Everywhere.” You’d facepalm, there was never any clarity with him.

Namjoon had left his door open to his room one day, and you peeking inside wondering if he wanted breakfast with you. You stepped inside reluctantly calling his name, but there was no response. He had already gone for the day. You looked around his room, you’ve never been in there before. The furniture in his room was dark and monochromatic like the rest of the house. The first thing that caught your eye was the impressive library. You glanced over the curious book titles such as Blood testing for Vampires, Textual Power for Newts, and Sociological Incantations. There were books in Latin, but you didn’t bother even touching those.

There was a column dedicated to leather bound books. You were about to reach for one, but a wave of nausea came over you. You clutched onto the book shelf holding a fist up to your lips burping up a putrid bubble. You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, the books could wait for later. You felt the sudden need to lay down. You wanted to head back to your room, but an intense wave of nausea washed over you and you crashed onto Namjoon’s bed. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, everything was fuzzy. When an intense pain came over you, that was the final blow, then you saw nothing.

Shaking you awake Namjoon’s voiced echoed in your ears until it became crystal clear. You came face to face with Namjoon; his face was covered in dirt and dark smears of red. You sat up haphazardly, “What happened to you?”

He disregarded your question, voice simmering, “What’s wrong? Why are you in my bed?”

You blinked awake taking his chin between your fingers turning his head to inspect for any injury, “Let’s get this checked out.”

You both were avoiding eachothers questioning. You slipped off his bed and into the bathroom wetting a washcloth and went back to him to clean him up. You ran the wet cloth carefully over the gunk on his face. He asked again, “What-happened?”

“I came looking for you,” you realized it was late in the evening, ”but …I felt dizzy for a moment, then took a nap. Sorry I slept on your bed.”

He cupped your cheek taking your attention away from him, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, “I feel better after taking a nap.” You did, you felt fine.

He nodded, not fully trusting your word but he let you continue your work, “Are you okay? Will you tell me where you’ve been? No avoiding the question Joon.”

Earlier…earlier he…

He had been collecting a soul in Limbo when he felt it. He raised his scythe to his kneeling victim who was rubbing their hands together begging for a second chance. Namjoon scoffed, “A man who hurt his own children and wife doesn’t deserve a second chance. “ He raised his scythe and ripped the soul out of the demon who dared to beg at his feet. The body began dissipating and eventually dissolved into the fog. A muddy brown sludge dripped off his scythe into his hand. He collected the sludge into a ball of sin and crushed it in his hands, “Satera: Ego hoc animo metitur seges. Expiet aeternum non solum pacis sitque terras.” The dirty soul dried up from his hands as he opened his hands back up.

Edax growled from his cave and it echoed throughout Limbo. He felt the echo of vibrations within the stem of his scythe. He didn’t have to seek it out, a crippled hand busted through the soil and the body crawling its way up make the soil boil. A head erupting following shoulders, the other hand, then a torso. The grey being with a head coming from the soil. Namjoon’s nose filled with the scent of rotting meat as the dark macabre emerged from its grave. She stood tall with dark soil falling from her figure. She was wearing that dress…that dress. It hung limply from her decrepit form. A smile formed on her lips, “Hello Namjoon.”

If hatred filtered through the air, the dense fog would be dyed scarlet. Namjoon readied his scythe, “Celina!”

She wasted no time in crookedly running towards him with a shrill scream. He raised his scythe and prepared for the worst. Her dried skin hung to her thin skeleton like body like leather, yet there was so much force in her actions. She crossed blows and he did his best to block them with his scythe and returned with equal force. Her frantic, violent movements were meant to smash him into the Earth from where she had risen.

It was odd she wasn’t using magic, he knew this witch was capable of terrifying things. He lifted her up with his scythe and threw her a few feet off of him. Like an animal on all fours, she bolted her way towards him and lunged at him snarling like a beast. The impact sent the both of them rolling and she kept mauling towards him. They rolled a few times and Namjoon landed under her, her bloody fingers reached out to his face grabbing at him. She scratched at his face and tried digging her fingers into his eyes. She wanted him obliterated, destroyed with nothing left of him but pieces. He concentrated his strength and rolled again with her under him and he continued rolling in the dirt. A wave of soil came off him as he summersaulted to a stand. Taking the opening chance, he swung his scythe and severed her in half. A gut wrenching scream filled the air as he raised his sludge tainted blade one more time. He took this opportunity and severed her head, it rolled cutting through the fog.

He was panting hard, covered in soot and blood, his face was scratched, but he was glad that was all that had happened.

The skull remained in the soil chuckling, “I’m still coming for her Namjoon. You’re not going to stop me. I will always win. Her soul is mine.”

He growled and chopped down the blade going straight through her skull severing the last piece of her. The Lich disintegrated back turning into soil.

Namjoon clenched his scythe in his hands, and roared into the fog, “CELINA!”

He was so close, so close.

“I was summoned.” You remained silent. You knew exactly what that meant, and it explained more than enough for you.

He sighed, “You…can go home now.” Your home had been cleansed for a few days, but he didn’t want to tell you, earlier just solidified that. He wanted you to stay within his grasp where he could protect you. More so, he looked forward to coming home, a home, because there was someone there. A Persephone to his hadistic life.

He quickly followed, “You don’t have to go back, you can stay.”

Two weeks had passed by so quickly. You lowered your hand with the dirty rag. Those dark eyes you’ve become accustom to looking at morning and night, his constant dark attire, and slightly disheveled hair and dorky smile. You would love to stay here. This home was beautiful and felt like home more than your own apartment had ever. You felt protected here…but so was your home now. Things were going to be better. Namjoon was looking over you so she wouldn’t bother you again.

It was going to be okay.

You finished cleaning his face, careful of the scratch marks, “Thank you Namjoon, but I’d like to go home.”

He swallowed any protest, gritting his teeth but he respected your decision despite how much he wanted to argue against it. If he protested harshly you would begin to worry and question things, “Leave in the morning then, it’s too dark out.”

There was a moment of silence between the both of you. You glanced at the discarded scythe on the floor and picked it up. You handed it back to him, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It was going to be okay.

Life went back to normal, you left Namjoon’s home the following morning and it’s been weeks since you’ve moved back home. As Namjoon promised, there weren’t any more incidents with Celina, however, there was always this looming feeling. You never felt truly safe, at least not the way you felt when you were at his home or when he was around. You could take care of yourself though.

Namjoon visited your apartment for dinner every night and often stayed longer after dinner. Your apartment was fairly small, but the giant somehow fit on the couch when he fell asleep watching TV with you. You didn’t mind, you weren’t sure you were comfortable living alone anymore. The couch felt too spacious when he wasn’t hogging about seventy-five percent of it.

You were making dinner the other day when all the sudden he stood up from his chair. He knocked the chair from under him, “I have to go.” You didn’t get a chance to bid him goodbye, he vaporized and only the tossed chair was evidence he was just there. The sizzling of the food in the pan filled the room, as your previous giggling at his joke died out. Just like that, you were alone again.

That was just how things were, and that was okay. Things were okay.

You walked up the stairs to your apartment and took out your keys out of your purse as you walked up. You hummed a tune that played twice as you were making it home on the radio. A funky smell intensified as you walked up the stairs, maybe your neighbor was cooking something rotten again. You came up to your apartment door trying not breath in the foul smell. You covered your mouth with your sleeve picking up speed towards your apartment. You haphazardly jammed your key into the lock then froze when your shoe squelched as you stepped on your welcome mat. You looked down finally noticing the source of the foul smell. Flies eagerly swarmed around the severed pig head that was discarded below your feet like the mat was a dinner platter. Vivid burgundy near black blood from the head had soaked in the doormat. You dropped your keys and into your sleeve you suppressed a scream. You didn’t want to disturb or notify your neighbors. You picked up your keys with a shaky hand and opened your door up and quickly ran into the kitchen to grab a plastic bag and dust pan. You hesitated, reached out once then pulled back screaming in your throat then bit the bullet and shoveled the head into the bag with the pan. With a paper towel you picked up your doormat and blood dripped in a stream off an edge. You quickly packed it into the trash bag avoiding getting it on you, holding back the gag with all your might. You rushed back inside and got bleach and a scrub brush. You got down on your knees covering your mouth with your wrist. You poured bleach onto the blood diluting the coagulated redness replacing the slaughterhouse smell with something equally as intense. You scrubbed furiously, but the cement was stained. You wiped up as much as you could, tossing the dirty rags in the trash bag.  

You made haste towards your apartment’s dumpster. As you walked you held your breath not wanting to take in anymore of that putrid smell. The fear from earlier turning to anger. There was only so much intimidation a person could take before they snapped. You hated this! You hated that she was tormenting you, reminding you that you were tied to her. You tossed in the bag hearing it thud in the hollow bin.

A wave of dizziness suddenly over took you. You heaved and felt a sudden thickening of your saliva with an impressive wave of nausea. You held onto the edge of the bin and began dry heaving. The same dizziness you felt about a few weeks ago at Namjoon’s home. Your heaved once then as much as you tried preventing it you puked. You watched as a pile of mud mounded at your feet splashing onto your shoes. You wiped away the mud at your mouth, it tasted terrible. You looked at your hand noticing the dark sludge. Why were you throwing up dark sludge!

Something was terribly wrong!

You stumbled back up to your apartment. You slammed the door behind you and ran into your room. You yanked Namjoon’s blazer off the hanger and threw it on shoving your arms into the sleeves one at a time. You marched back out into the darkness of your living room standing in the center. You coughed then heavily breathed in, “Namjoon!” You screamed into thin air, “Namjoon!”

Moments later a thick black swirling cloud appeared in front of you. Namjoon’s head was leaning back and he slowly dipped it forward, soot eyes rumbling and smoky. He looked over you and was about to ask what was wrong, but you cut him off, “Why did you lie to me!”

You changed your train of thought, “Tell me what I gotta do.”

He sputtered approaching you, “What?”

You grabbed onto the lapels of his new blazer, “What. Do. I. Have. To. Do. Tell me!”

He grabbed onto your hands trying to release them, but you were tightly gripping, “Tell me what happened first?”

You loosened your grip and paced around for a moment, “A pig’s head on my doorstep that’s what! I can’t let you just try to solve everything Joon, I want to do something! I’m tired of just waiting around for this Witch. I can’t keep living like this! So, tell me! Tell me what I gotta do to help you Namjoon!”

He stepped closer stopping you from pacing. He wiped away the dirt and looked at it sadly, shamefully, he’s been working endlessly, traveling to different realms to find her, but every tendril he latched onto lead him to a loose end.

You shoved his hands away and sat down, wrapping your arms around your chest, the weight of everything adding onto your shoulders. “I’ve looked up who Satera, necromancy, and all this is. I wanted to know what I was dealing with.”

While at Namjoon’s you found some books that had the names of things that sounded familiar. It led you down a rabbit hole giving you more answers than Namjoon had ever. Satera was the goddess of Balance, a Titan of Earth and is the keeper of souls. You found out why witches weren’t supposed to deal in necromancy. Bringing someone back from the dead was cheating Satera and in order for Earth to be balanced a soul had to be collected. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

His eyes widen, fatigue showing through his normally passive demeanor. Anger was building in his system, just what have you been sticking your nose into.

Most importantly, “Namjoon, you said that the dress tainted my soul.”

He nodded, “Why are you stating the obvious y/n?”

You sat and thought for a second back to a passage you read, “If-if I have a tie to her because of that dress and her soul has tainted me, then that means…I have magic too, don’t I?”

He was quite for a moment, worried if he spoke it will only inspire pandora. “I don’t think it works that way Y/n.” He shook his head in disbelief, going over a thousand more rejections in his mind.

You stood up he wouldn’t look you in the eyes when he said that. He wasn’t even humoring you! “If I do, then I have to fight her! We have a fighting chance against her. I have to put an end to this! So tell me, Namjoon! Let me help you!”

He turned around opaque, black smoke spilling out his mouth, “Then what? What if you get hurt and die? If I submit the wrong soul, then I get punished and I’m gone forever! I’ll end up just like my father! You’re not the only one on the line Y/n! If they find out—Satera finds out—that a human is working alongside me—!”

You raised your voice, “But I’m not completely human right now, I’m partial to the taint, you know that! It’s all the more reason for me to help! We have to try Joon! We can’t keep running into dead ends!”

He was firm, “No, you’re not getting involved in this.”

You argued, “I can’t keep looking over my shoulder wondering when she’ll appear!”

“Just let me take care of it!” he growled.

Words flew from your mouth, “And you see how well that’s going!” You felt regret as soon the venom left your spit, you had pushed harder than was wise. Yet, it was true. You felt so useless, a coward, you hated feeling this way. You hated feeling so vulnerable. His protection was only going so far because she kept finding ways to get to you.

He hard paused, hurt passing over his expression, “I’m-doing-the-best-I-can.”

Your lower lip quivered words slowly making way out of your mouth, “But it’s not enough.”

He steamed right up to you, chest to chest as he enunciated every hot breathy word. “NO! ENOUGH! Enough of—this! That’s the end of this discussion. You’re-not-getTING- INVOLVED!” He panted over your face, neatly tucked hair falling out of its place.

The both of you stood there, your glassy eyes intensely locked on his, you weren’t backing down, not even in the face of death. The air between you was ice cold. He took a deep breath closing his eyes centering himself again. The crimson drained out of his face, face unreadable as there was no typical smirk or dimples. He showed you his back, opening his eyes afterwards. There was a beat of silence when neither of you spoke and he was gone.

When he was gone a tear rolled down your cheek. You weren’t going to give up. With no fire there is no smoke, but sparks were coming.

You knew Namjoon wasn’t home during the day, off in the Hellscape or somewhere. After the argument the molten behind your words still were rumbling; you thought over and over how you could solve this on your own. With or without Namjoon. You drove to Namjoon’s home a few days later with a semblance of plan. Your car drove through the sea of orange and red leaves and they waved around your car as you drove through the suburban streets. You pulled into Namjoon’s driveway and the gate opened for you. You parked in front of the house, not bothering to properly park. You walked up the steps to the inverted torch crested front door. You traced your hand over the torch a tingling sensation tickled your fingertips, “I’m sorry Namjoon, but I must do this.”

You stuck your hands in the ivy that surrounded the door fishing for the extra house key. When you hand felt cold metal, you plucked it off a vine. The key itself resembled a torch except the blade was sawed like a normal key. You stuck it in the lock and twisted it waiting for the click. You turned the knob and pushed inwards. You locked the door behind you and took your shoes off at the entrance. “Namjoon? Namjoon are you home?” Your voice echoed throughout the house, but there wasn’t a echo back.

You bolted for Namjoon’s room. While contemplating, tossing and turning in bed, you remembered the bookcases in his room. He must keep something, maybe vital information, within one of those books. He always had his nose in one of those when he wasn’t watching TV with you. You just knew that there had to be something in there that could help you. You skidded as you rounded the banister, the rug bunching up as you drifted. You ran down the hallway, adrenaline running through your veins in anticipation. You knew you had a few hours before he came home. The exotic plants in the hall shivered as you zoomed past. You flung Namjoon’s bedroom door open. The large room was neatly kept, rays of light filtered in through the large windows breaking through the ash tree outside his window. It strongly smelled like him too, outlandishly of charcoal mixed with natural, delicate scents. You cautiously set down your purse on a bench. You avoided going through his desk, the only thing out was an hour glass that was top heavy. Facing the expansive library, “Speak to me books.”  

You browsed through his books, taking a few down from the shelfs. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but something’s gotta give. Book after book came up with no details that could help. You touched a book shelf and it tingled just like the door had. You kept holding onto the feeling and trailed your hands along the spines of the books. The sensation picked up as you moved right skipping bookcase after case. The sensation kept building and building vibrating your skin until it stung. Yeowing you pulled your hand back like you just touched fire. You stopped in front of a bookcase filled to the ceiling with leather bound books. You were going to test your theory, you felt silly, but you spoke out like you saw all wizards in movies, “Reveal something.” You cautiously reached back and delicately touched the books. You pulled out a book upon instinct and flipped to the first page. The journal that didn’t look a part of this century or from this century. Three hundred wasn’t a joke was it?

You felt guilty for looking through it, your conscious telling you to put it down, that this was a bad idea. You shoved those thoughts back, you needed answers. You flipped through the brittle pages, but a lot of what was written was in an ancient language or Latin. Some pages were missing as the binding was falling apart from where the original creator had sewed the binding. You placed it back on the shelf and picked through more journals. You should’ve brought a Latin dictionary with you. The journals changed according to the time frame, but it was hard to place which volume came before the next. The last journal in the row was a black leather book with rounded edges. Your eyes were growing tired after going through about fifty some books. You kept flipping through the journal, some pages started halfway, some only had a top sentence, while others were just empty. You and found a passage in a readable language.

You traced your fingers over the word:

“Debt soils the heart

drives the mind mad.

I couldn’t save him…I couldn’t save her either.

I’m sorry.”

Couldn’t save him…her?

Numbers and letters were scribbled below the monologue. You turned the journal wondering if changing your perspective would give you a new view. You sat there staring at it. Couldn’t-save-him, debt, what does that mean. You pulled out your phone and plugged the numbers and letters into google and an address popped up. This was it! Maybe this place could help you! You quickly took a picture of the address and slid the journal back in place along with the rest of the books. You checked the room over once and picked up your purse. You needed to go before he came back.

You closed his bedroom door with a click as you turned around you ran straight into something. You boomeranged backwards and caught yourself on the doorframe. Namjoon had his arms crossed over his chest, “What were you doing in there?”

“I-I I left behind something in my room…and I used the extra house key to get in. I didn’t want to bother you about it.” You righted yourself trying to find some structure.

He titled his head to the side, “That doesn’t explain why you were in my room.”

You brushed the hair out of your face feeling a heavy blush creeping up your neck, “I…I was…I missed you.”

His arms feel down to his side, features softening up and a hesitant dimpled smile appearing on his face. A blush you didn’t know could exist on his face blossomed. “Oh,” that was his only response.

You bit on your bottom lip, it wasn’t a complete lie. You had missed him, you hated that the first time you saw eachother again was because of that.

He softened up, “I’m sorry about the other day, I shouldn’t have reacted that way. But I still don’t want you getting involved.” He rubbed his hands together, “I just…you’re already involved enough.” He bit his tongue, swallowing his pride, “Would you come back? Your apartment isn’t safe, no type of cleansing or spell over your apartment is going to keep her away.”

A dead rat in equal condition showed up in place of where the pig’s head was the next day. You didn’t want to stay there longer to find out what else was going to show up.

“Okay,” but he didn’t have to know that you weren’t going to give up.

Dimple sink his cheeks as he sighed in relief, the brought you into an unexpected hug.  He kept you in a strong embrace as if holding you wasn’t quite enough. You could feel every part of him as he pressed you tightly against him. You yelped then sunk into the warmth, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of his body pressing into yours. When you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him back his dimples became craters. You rested your cheek against his chest and heard a strong heartbeat. “I’m sorry too Joon.” He squeezed you humming in relief as an answer. You wondered if he could feel your beating heart too?

He asked against your hair, “Are you hungry?”

You laughed tapping his back once, untangling yourself from his embrace. You walked backwards towards the staircase with a side of your lips raised, “As long as you’re not cooking.”

He blinked hard jutting his chin out towards you, “Hey, I’ve gotten better! I’ve only burnt one pan since you’ve left.”

He watched your face evolve from a felines smirk to that of a classic horror film. “Namjoon, you did not!”

He walked past whistling like he had no care in the world with a fool’s smile. You followed after him, “Namjoon, was that the only thing you burned?”

Surely enough, that wasn’t the only thing he burned.

 Namjoon had fallen asleep on the couch next to you as you were watching Family Feud. You searched up the address you had taken earlier. The first result that came up was a pawn shop downtown. You did some research on the shop, but nothing particularly odd came up. All the reviews were about how they got a fair price on antiques and knick-knacks. It was nearly midnight and you decided you’d have to call tomorrow on your lunch break.

You turned off the TV and got up with a grunt. You picked up the book off of Namjoon’s face and set it on the coffee table. You pulled the throw blanket off the back of the couch and splayed it over him. You squatted down and situated a pillow under his head carefully. He smacked his lips a few times as he adjusted his head into comfortable position. You brushed the hair out of his face and kept petting unconsciously. A full minute had passed before you noticed you were longingly staring. This man was a nightmare when you first met him, he was going to have you killed, but here you were, tucking him in for the night.

You leaned in and pressing your lips to his forehead, “Night Joon.”

He was dead asleep, but you swore a faint smile pulled at his lips.

Tomorrow, you were going to figure things out. There was always tomorrow.

From the images you saw of the place online it looked like a place for eccentric hippies or kooky rich people. You snuck away from your coworkers and sought out a place where you could make a phone call in private. Your leg has been shaking under your desk all day counting the hours on the clock until you could make this call. You crossed an arm over your mid-section as dialed the number you found. When the dial tone kept ringing, you nibbled on your thumb.

A man picked up, “The Strange and Unusual Pawn Shop, how may I satisfy your curiosity?”

You swallowed, you honestly didn’t prepare well for this. You thought back to the script…him…her, you tried the later, “I was wondering if… she was there?”

He questioned, “Who?”

You honestly had no idea who “she” was, so you tried it again with an emphasis, “You know…her.”

You cleared your throat a bit, embarrassed to say it out loud, “She’s the only one that can help me. She knows someone important.”

He chuckled, “Sorry kid, can’t help you.”

You shouted into the speaker, “No, wait! I’m not some kid looking for Hogwarts, or a basement dweller that lives in their parents’ house, I—I need to—. You know what, forget it!”

You were about to hang up when the guy on the line said, “Miss, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry, but…the magician you’re asking about, she doesn’t work here anymore.”

So there was a she! At the same time, you felt your heart drop, what were you supposed to do now. You were going to have to start from scratch again.

He sighed into the receiver, “Look…I’m not supposed to do this, but whatever it is, it sounds really important. Here, write this down.”

You scrambled and pulled a pen out of your pocket and began writing down the address he was giving you on a receipt from your coffee run this morning. You sighed in relief, “Thank you, you have no idea, thank you.”

He chuckled, “Good luck,” then hung up.

You went back to work but headed straight towards the bathroom. You pulled out hair from its neatly tucked position and slapped your cheeks a few times. You lightly patted some water on your face and neck before you booked it out the bathroom towards your boss’s office. You knocked on the door and heard a muffled come in. You breathed in a structuring breath, counting down the seconds… and action!

You held onto the door knob and pushed open the door dramatically stumbling into the office. Your legs were bow legged with a case of clubfoot as you leaned on the door feverishly panting. You swallowed and held a hand up to your perspiring forehead, “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can make it through the rest of the day.”

Your boss looked up at you with a panicked look, “Oh my God! O-k-okay, go home and rest up Ms. Y/L/N.”

You nodded squeezing your eyes shut, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I promise I’ll make it.”

Your boss asked, “Are you able to make it home okay?”

You waved him off with your hand, “Yes, yes, I’ll be fine.”

You began closing the door as he looked at you sympathetically, “I’m sorry.”

With a click of the door you speed walked over to your desk, still holding up the façade of illness. Your coworkers asked if you were alright and you coughed to play it up. You packed your stuff assuring them you just needed to go home.  You took the elevator and as soon as the door closed you let a smirk rise on your face. The elevator opened up to the parking garage, your heels clacked and echoed in the parking lot. You pulled your hair out of its tight confides and shook it loose. You threw your purse into your passenger seat and set your GPS to the address the clerk had given you. You were going to chase the smoke and dig into the ashes to find the heart of it all.

You drove through the city and ended up in a neighborhood where tightly packed townhomes went on for about twenty blocks. The townhomes were classic brick, three story tall homes with white windows and black iron fences. You found a spot luckily right in front of the address, the street was practically empty since it was still working hours. You stared at the quaint home through your passenger window, the home seemed so…innocent. You rounded about your car and stepped up onto the sidewalk as a young jogger ran past you. The community seemed to be family friendly and young. Was the woman you were about to meet young as well? Was she a past lover of Namjoon’s? Steeling your lips, you needed to find out if she could help you rather if she shared overtly friendly embraces with Namjoon.

You pushed open the gate and climbed up the cement stoop to a white door that had golden numbers reading off 45730. You lifted the gold door knocker and tapped it three times then stepped back. Behind you another jogger ran past, but this time with a speedy canine. You turned to watch them, patiently waiting for someone to answer the door. You were about to knock on the door again when you heard the lock turning. The door fully opened, and words left you, heart falling silent, you couldn’t will your lips to move. You gawked at the woman before you who had a wonky gait, probably from arthritis, as she pulled the door open. She was seventy at minimum considering the deep-set wrinkles that could rival canyons. Her height reached no more than five two and her width was plump. Her ghostly, thick grey hair was neatly braided, and it hung over her shoulder hanging down to her waist. Her deep set eyes propped on pink, cracked cheeks were cloudy and ashy like her hair, not the albino type though. You swear they pillowed like smoke as they focused on you. In short you realized, she was blind.

Her articulate voice was soft, “Hello, may I help you?”

You stuttered, “H-Hello, I’m Y/n. I’m looking for…the magician.”

She scoffed muttering “magician” mockingly under her breath. She adjusted the purple shawl on her shoulders, “There’s no magician here.”

She began shutting the door on you, but you stuck your foot in the door, grunting as the door slammed your toes. “W-ooO-wait, wait, please!”

She opened the door back up, releasing your toes. You massaged your foot hissing, “Please, just let me ask you some questions. I need your help.”

Her face fell, wrinkles sagging at the depression. She looked away from you, “I’m sorry, but the witch isn’t in anymore.”

You stood there in stupor as she slammed the door in your face. Punctuation taken. You weren’t convinced though, you knocked on the door with both hands until your knuckles hurt. “Please, please, I’m going to die if you don’t help me.” You kept knocking, but the tempest didn’t respond to your pleas. Dampness built in the corner of your eyes as your knocks turned into sluggish thuds. A carousel of thoughts passed through your mind, and each one gets more toxic in its turn. Blisters were forming on your knuckles, “Please.”

You turned around and slumped down on the staircase with your head in your hands. What were you going to do now?

The door slowly creaked open again, “Come in, don’t start attracting attention now.”

You sprung up to your feet, fixing your hair up and wiping the budding water in your eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She stepped aside and let you in to her home.

The house was larger than the outside led on. You were a bit worried that she would run into things, but she navigated perfectly fine. Her furniture isn’t rounded but sharp like the creator intended. She trailed her hand over her dining table, “Take a seat, I’ll prepare some tea.” You looked up and hanging above the table was a swirled chandelier where cream candles of various sizes burned, and their wax dripped down the side like stalagmites from the edges.

You pulled out a red mid-century chair and sat down tucking your feet under you and your purse on your lap. The table was wooden, but unevenly painted teal and the chairs were mismatched that came from different times and styles. In the center of the table an incense was burning, but the ashes disappeared as it fell. She came back to the table with equally mismatched tea cups onto the table. You accepted it with both hands, “Thank you.”

She smiled, the wrinkles on her face deepening for a split second. “Green tea…it calms the nerves. I can hear your heart beating and I’m sure they can hear it in kingdom come too.”

Your face heated up, were you that obviously nervous even to a blind woman?

“I’m sorry to bother you, I called the pawn shop and they told me you were here.”

“Call me Kaya, child.”

You introduced yourself formally, “I’m Y/n.”.

She stirred her tea twirling her finger above the liquid and naturally it swirled. Your jaw dropped, simple acts of magic still impressed you. You were still getting used to this world. She spoke casually, her voice melodically filling the room, “I used to help out there, but I’ve retired from my ways a very long time ago.”

She sipped her tea with a hum of content, you followed along taking the perfectly warm cup in your hand carefully sipping from the rim. The taste is absolutely delicious, you felt a wave of calmness as it washed down your throat.

“Why are you here child? What can an old, blind hag do for you?”

You aren’t sure where to start, “I bought a dress that belonged to a witch.”

The woman across from you a-ha’s as if she knows the rest of your story. She set down her tea and stretched out her hand palm up. On her wrist was a tattoo of a wheel, but it was crossed out erratically as if it was scratched by a cat as her sleeve raised up. “Give me your hand child.”

You placed your hand in hers. Her oddly bony, cold hands ran over yours and she hummed, she squeezed your hand tight as she grunted. Fatigue plagued her suddenly worn face, “A terrible witch has touched your soul child.” She continued to run her hand along the veins in your hand, humming as she finds specific spots. “What about the dress child?”

“She was a resurgent.” She dropped your hand like she touched fire. Your knuckles thunked against the table and you brought them back to your lap shyly.

She hissed, “Resurgent?”

You swallowed hard, “Yes…and that dress, she wore it when she did her thing, so now I’m her next target.”

With a bit of confidence you scooted to the edge of your seat pursing your lips, you wanted to be honest with her, “I did some research and because I’ve been…tainted by her…some of her is with me. So, I want to know…, “you mess with your hands unable to meet her gaze, “do I have the ability to do magic as well? Am I a witch now because our souls are tangled?”

You sat in silence for a moment as she debated internally. It was the same way Namjoon had reacted when you told him. The longer she remained silent the more anxious you felt, were you unsalvageable? You sipped a bit of your tea. She bravely reached across the table again, taking your hand and brought your hand up to her chest over her heart and stared directly into your eyes. Her eyes swirled iridescently as she sought within your soul. When she let go she was panting holding onto the tabletop. You caught yourself coughing when she let go, but shakily stood up and rushed rushed over to her, “Are you alright Ma’am? What just happened?”

She looked up at you, her forehead  dripping sweat. “Child, you’re not dealing with just any necromancer…if I think who I think you’re dealing with then…,” she looked away, maybe even afraid to mutter the words.

You speak them for her, “Celina.”

Her eyes widened, you spoke the exact words she dared not to. Solemnly she repeated, “Celina.” She rose from her seat and silently you followed her as walked back towards the stairs, slowly taking each step at a time with a huff. You took her hand and moved it to your forearm to help her up. She smiled and thanked you. When we reached the top of the stairs, she still held onto your hand and led you to a huge room where a large, black, cast iron cauldron was at the edge of a long working table. Unmatched Bookcases were filled with books and other shelfs had various sized and shaped bottles filled with potions. In the bottles some potions boiled, swirled about a toxic looking smoke, or ominously glowed. Crystals grew along a wall and different species of plants hung from the ceiling, some followed your movements. A gentle fire burned in a fireplace, you didn’t remember there being a chimney from the outside.

She let go of your hand and walked up to a bookcase. Some of the books jingled and shifted as she trailed her hand along their spine, “There.” She brought out a red orange, leathery book and opened it to a page she had memorized. She skimmed over the words with her fingers nodding along as she read them, despite them not being brail she was perfectly able to read them. She clapped the book shut with one hand, “That Lich, creating Vasanima.”

You repeated the last word but butchered it, “Va-shawn-minya?”

The witch laughed kindly, “Vasanima child.” She tapped her cheek with her finger as she propped her head into her palm, “She split up her soul and that dress, a Vasanima, holds a piece of her soul…but whomever takes new ownership of the item a part of their soul gets sucked in too, tangling with the creators like a contract.”

She hesitated to tell you more, “You are right child, you have great magic within you.”

You blurted out, “Will you teach me?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head putting away the book, “I don’t practice anymore.”

You begged, “Please, I need to know. You said I do have magic!”

“I don’t practice anymore.” She gathered her hands in front of her like a prissy cat. “You may leave if tha—.”

Your stomach felt full of lead, “I’m going to die if I don’t! Satera is going to come for me instead and Namjoon is going to die! I don’t want to die!”

She whipped her head to the side, “Namjoon?”

You grabbed her hand encasing them in yours surprising her with your sudden movements. You felt the tingle between you again, “Please, please, I’ll do anything! Teach me how to do witchcraft, magic, wizardry, whatever this is, please, please…please teach me.”

She grabbed onto your forearms and stared you in the eyes again, her pearls were swirling jaw going slack for a moment. She heavily sighed, blinking away the intensity, “Hold out your hands and repeat after me: Evigilare.” Her voice rang through your body like a gong, knocking on an unopened gate.

You held out your arms in front of you, palms facing up, and tested the word out, “E-Evi-gil-are.”

She scoffed, “Confidence child.”

You clear your throat and lick your lips, “Evigilare!”

A tingling pins and needles sensation shot up your suspended limbs. You hissed wanting to rub the pinching pain away, but you fought against the urge knowing you were to endure this. The acute feeling eases out into a pulse in your fingertips then your throbbing fingertips begin glowing. Suddenly flames licked and engulfed your hand. Your vision shifts, and you see colors like you’ve never seen them before, green flickering flames ghost between rose, magenta, then back to green. You let out a yelp expecting excruciating pain, but the burn never came. It felt smooth and silky, like fire was running in your veins, and intense overwhelming power. Power…magic, this was witchcraft. It was so powerful vibrating through your whole system, “Ms. Kaya is this…is this magic?”

She doesn’t have to see to know, she feels the great energy emitting from you in her bones. She feels it, “That’s magic child.”

“Will you teach me then?”

She grabbed onto your wrist and the flames in your hands extinguish like an off switch. Your eyes bugged, how was she able to do that!

“If you must defeat her…then I will teach you.”

You light up, surging forward to hug her, “Thank you, thank you.” The building tears from earlier coming back with a vengeance. You break down in her arms, muttering out snotty thank you’s.

Her hard smile turns soft as she rubs your spine, “Enough crying child, save those tears for when you start complaining I’m working you too hard.”

You laugh through the tears and nod.

The true hardship was beginning.

You stood at the front door with your coat hanging over your arm hand reaching towards the knob with hesitation. The door flung open Namjoon standing there, “Hey, what are you doing there?”

You stuttered for a moment pulling a smile, “I was trying to remember if I left something in the car.”

He nodded and stepped aside letting you in, “I bought take out, it’s getting cold hurry up.” You stood at the door watching as he walked away. You couldn’t help staring at his figure frozen like a statue. You felt the truth bubbling up in your throat, you wanted to tell him. You hated keeping secrets.

He suddenly stopped calling your name, once, twice, then on the third time you registered it. You blinked away, “Yeah-yeah?”

Carefully approaching you, “Are you okay?”

You laughed it off, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just been a long day.” He took your hand and led you inside wordlessly. You appreciated that, actions spoke louder anyways.

You don’t tell Namjoon a single thing. You smiled through dinner except he didn’t spend late night couch hogging with you. He had work to deal with, so he couldn’t join you. You stared at him with puppy eyes, you wanted to spend a quiet evening with him. You needed that. He gave a dimply smile and ruffled your hair, “I’ll be back, I promise.”

He stepped back and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

You sighed and picked up the dirty dishes. You paused in your step as you heard the hounds barking in the distance. You kept walking, disregarding the sounds. Warm water rinsed away bits off food instantly, you moistened the sponge and scrubbed of the residue. A wave of familiarity came over you, you felt your saliva thickening, your esophagus burning with a building pressure causing you to violently cough. Holding onto the side of the counter, your core contracted sporadically as you hacked. Bile was tickling the back of your throat, the acid burning, you were going to throw up. Your cheeks puffed out as you felt your mouth filling with a thick liquid. You hunched over the sink and let the contents project out of you. At the corner of your lip a string of drool hung limply as you fully hunched over the sink. You stared at the content finding your dinner amongst the dark…dirt. Your senses felt sharper after expelling everything you had picking up on the sour scent of puke, soil and the metallic smell of iron.

Another wave of nausea and again your cheeks puffed wide, this was going to be worse than the last one. You heaved, throat burning impossibly, and your mouth stretched out a massive clot of dirt covered in gelatinous blood left you. Your shaky hand reached for the lever and you turned on the water to wash down the waste. You watched the brick mud swirl down the sink as you spat out the excess swirling in your mouth. You brought the sprayer closer to you and you washed out your mouth. You kept washing until your teeth wasn’t crunching on soil and your tongue didn’t taste iron. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your hearing was muffled, but you stood back up.

You stood there under the kitchen lights, the TV  humming in the background and dirty dinner plates in the sink. The constant stream of water pouring was becoming clearing in your ears. You reached out and pushed the lever down cutting off the sound. You looked up through your lashes, but not focusing on anything specific.

Once more than night when you were showering you threw up again. Under your covers, fighting a headache, dizziness and a sore throat you made a decision. You flung off your blankets, sleep wouldn’t come to you anyways and began typing away on your laptop. You had to make haste, catalyze things even faster.

As you typed away, the hounds howled, snarling at what you could only imagine lurked in the tree line.

Only…imagine.

You handed in your resignation letter to work the next day with little to no explanation. You drove over to Kaya’s home immediately after, knocking on the door like a crazy woman. She answered the door already walking away as she left the door open for you. She called over her shoulder, “You’re earlier than I was expecting child.”

You shyly replied, honestly feeling groggy and jittery from no sleep, “I need all the lessons I can get.”

She smiled and led you up to her craft room. You tried helping her up the stairs but she swatted your hand away, “Child, I’ve lived alone for hundreds of years, I’m not that kind of old woman yet.”

You snickered, “I’m sorry Ms. Kaya.”

“It’s Kaya, child. Again, I’m not that kind of old yet.”

Your cheeks were hurting holding in the laughter, “Sorry, sorry.”

You couldn’t see it, but a smile was on her face as you followed her up the stairs into her craft room. She ran her hand across her work space then knocked thrice for good luck, “Prepare yourself Y/n.”

You shook your head like a bobble head, exhausted but eager, “Ready.”

Kaya wasn’t kidding when she said save the tears for later. You spent mornings until the evening at Kaya’s building the basics. She made you read and memorize what things were before you even thought about casting spells. She was surprised because you picked up all the techniques fast, faster than she ever did and memorized things with easy recall. By the end of the first week she casually suggested to finally start with actual casting.

She knocked on the table three times before she hung a hand in the air, “This is the standard position, now repeat after me and hold it until I say so.”

You held your hands up and after a few minutes your triceps were burning, “Kayyyaaaaa, how much longer?”

She smacked the underside of your elbows when you started slacking, “A Witch must have strength in their arms.”

You blinked hard at the pain trying to will it away. She finally let you release it and you heaved dramatically feeling an onset dead arm syndrome kick in. “Hmmm, you’re no match for Celina if that is too much for you.”

You turned dramatically, feeling insulted, narrowing your eyes like a feline. You wanted to prove Kaya, to yourself, you were worthy. You posited yourself in standard again, “Let’s keep going!” You challenged her word, and she responded with a soft good then three knocks.

Hours went by, you were getting familiar with casting positions and awakening muscle groups you’ve never knew existed. You could feel the reserves in your body, the same fire in your veins begging to be casted. Progress was being made.

Namjoon found himself eating leftovers for dinner because you were never home for dinner lately. He would place your plate in the microwave to keep it warm. He often would scrap it into the bin after hours of waiting. He began watching Family Feud on his own too, but it wasn’t the same. You weren’t there to compete or make the show as interesting as it normally was. There was too much blanket, too much couch space, too much popcorn in the bowl. He hated not tugging the blanket off you slowly just to bug you.

When you did come home late exhausted, dark circles were beginning to weigh heavy under your eyes. He’d ask about it, but you’d wave it off, “It just that time of the year where work is heavy.”

He…missed you.

Three weeks into training and you were learning spoken spells, finally casting. You held your arms up with a wand in your hand, you were trying to focus your energy into the conductor.

She instructed as she paced around you, “Stronger Y/n! Pour your energy into it!”

A wave of nausea overcame you. It was becoming more frequent and was becoming a normalcy. You held it in and quietly burped it away. The feeling wouldn’t settle and you knew what coming. You dropped your wand and booked it towards the restroom.

Kaya yelled hearing your feet thud on the wooden floor, “Y/n! Where are you going, you can’t just quit!”

You stumbled, running into the banister before you sharp turned into the bathroom. You flipped up the toilet seat and began unleashing. Kaya came running behind you with a hand on the doorframe. She heard the wrenching coming from you. She carefully touched along the doorframe and counter coming closer to you, “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

She rubbed your back sympathetically. When you pulled up, she caught the scent of your puke. She covered her nose with her hand and made a sound of disgust. You flushed the toilet, embarrassment taking over.

It took her a moment, but she recognized that scent: the soil of the dead.

She asked upfront, “How often?”

You wiped at the edge of your mouth slumping onto the cold tiles, “At least twice a day.”

She sighed heavily and helped you up and quietly cleaned you up, “This is something a special potion can help ease.”

She walked you back into her lab and brewed “the potion” in her cauldron. She ladled some tea out of the cauldron into a funky tea cup then handed it to you. The more time you spent with Kaya the more you realized that tea was her cure all, “It won’t stop it, but at least it’ll settle your soul.”

She poured her own tea and sat across from you. “Celina…was my sister.”

You we’re still lightly coughing, “What!”

She ran her fingers over the rim of her tea cup. Your eyes flickered down noticing the tea in her cup swirled painting the images flowing within her mind. Hypnotically you watched as the hazy image took resolution of a familiar woman, Kaya, but she was significantly younger, everything about her was so different especially her eyes. Her eyes were a deep brown that resembled the sweetest basset hound. She’s in this home, in her kitchen sipping tea at the same teal table. The front door busted open and slammed shut, clacking of heavy shoes echoed into the kitchen and out of the shadows a cloaked figure ran into the kitchen. The figure unveiled themselves pulling down the hood revealing a woman underneath. She frantically grabbed Kaya’s hands, “Kaya, they’re coming for me! We have to leave! They’re coming for me.”

Kaya pulled the woman down to sit in a seat across from her, panic painted on her face, “No Celina, what do you mean? Who’s coming for you?”

“The council! They’re going to hang me, they found out!”

Kaya was panicked, “What did they find out!”

Celina let go of her sister’s hands, embarrassed, “That I’ve been practicing the dark arts.”

Kaya spat, “You what!”

Celina began to toil with anger, “You know I am capable than more than they allow us!”

“Its illegal for a reason Celina!”

“You don’t get it Kaya! They’re going to come for the whole family, including you! They think your involved too!”

Kaya spat, “You’ve gotten us all involved! Now you think I’m stupid to do such a thing and follow you?”

Celina grew furious, “I know I was stupid, but come with me then!”

“My son, I can’t leave my son!”

Celina grew furious, “Take him too!”

Kaya smacked her hand off her, “No Celina, I don’t think you understand. I’m not guilty of whatever you were involved in. I can’t come with you!”

Celina grew furious, “You’ve never trusted me!”

“You put this upon yourself!”

Celina’s eyes glowed red as she lifted her hands up, and dishes levitated along with her, “I’ll make you then!” With her outburst dishes flew across the room towards Kaya, who ducked and found cover under the table. Kaya popped up and sent a spell towards Celina striking her. A magical fight broke out, it was like a battle between two martial artists, but lightening sparked between the two of them.

Kaya’s back slammed into the wall as her sister took a cheap shot. blood was streaming down Kaya’s face where the jinx had scathed her. Celina’s took a step forward cracking a plate under her shoe, “You’ve always been greedy sister, always in the top spot. I’ve never been able to beat you. It’s always been you!”

A boy, barely the age of ten, came into the room rubbing his eyes, “Mommy?”

Kaya’s eyes grew comically she wiped her towards the voice, “Mallory, go back to your room!”

Kaya’s son screamed, “Mommy!”

Celina smirked, “I’m going to show you true greed. You’re going to pay for all the years you’ve belittled me.”

Celina turned around and raised her hands, “Then you can’t remember me or any of this. I will erase everything.”

Kaya screamed out, “No! Celina! NO!”

Celina chanted, “Conspectum auferat, auferre memoriae, eam omnia!” A hot red bolt charged out of her and hit her nephew. Mallory screamed, and his eyes glazed over into a cataract resemblance. His head began to transform to that of a bore and his limbs lost their small stature as he began to grow into a monstrous size. He screamed as his body grew, bones extending, and he stretched out the doorframe. He thrashed about hands clutching his face, roaring in pain.

Kaya screamed, “Stop Celina!” Kaya jumped in front of her sister into the stream of magic and was struck with the spell. Kaya’s eyes lost their brilliant blue and faded into pearls, the eyes you were used to seeing. Celina tried catching her but had a loose grip on her sister’s wrist. Celina’s nails scratched over the witch’s tattoo over her wrist causing Kaya to scream even louder. Kaya screamed as she lost her sight covering her eyes. From here the memories go dark, there is only audio that rings in your ears.

“You got what you deserved,” footsteps were clattering, heavy thudding and glass breaking filling your ears, but distinctly clacking of heavy shoes echoed away until it ceased with a slamming of a door.

A black smoke began to fill the tea and eventually it was back to regular Green tea and you could only see the cracked bottom of the ceramic cup.

You didn’t realize tears were streaming down your face. You recognized the beast, it was Kaya’s son, Exadus Animae was her son.

“My sister and I were always competitive, but she took it to heart. She felt like she was less than because our parents doted on me more because I was the oldest, I had responsibility. I never wanted her to feel that way. I always made sure she was loved just as much, but it wasn’t enough. I never knew she would take it…that far.”

You can feel it in yours, this has squeezed at her heart for centuries. “I want to stop my sister. I want to put an end to her evil.” She grabbed your hand, “Child with the potential you have, you are the only one that can do it. You’re the one that can bring her down. You have the potential to become a greater witch than myself and her.”

You let the tears stream down and squeezed her hands back. “I’m sorry,” those were the only words you could get out.

There was so much you had to learn.

He hated going to places like this, but this was where evil crept freely. He made his way through the crowd; the strobing lights were blinding and the music numbing. He hated the smell of this place especially, it smelled like sorrow and sour loneliness. A succubus crashed into him swaying on her heels, she grabbed onto his arm as she pressed her chest up to him. She shouted at him over the music, “Hmmm, what is a Reaper doing in this part of town?”

He played into her trick, “Has Celina been around?”

She pouted, “Why are you talking about that Witch when I’m here?”

He trailed a delicate finger down her cheek, “Baby girl I’m asking a question, Have you?”

The succubus shivered loving the attention and nickname. She stood back up obediently with a thoughtful face, “No, but her recent play thing is here.” She pointed across the room through the swaying salacious bodies to the back of the club where a man with about five women hanging off him was tucked in a booth. He easily spotted the demon being nearly the tallest being there. Demons and their desires.

He shoved her off, “Thanks.”

She scoffed, “Hey!”

He couldn’t hear her protest anymore as he pushed through the crowd and came up to the booth. When the nymphs caught on to Namjoon they gasped and filtered out of the booth like roaches, “Hey, hey, ladddiesss!”

Namjoon growled, “Where is she?”

The playboy flipped hair out of his face and shrugged as he took a shot. “I’ve slept with many, who are you talking about?”

Namjoon didn’t humor the demon with a response.

“Don’t tell me I’ve slept with your bitch?”

Namjoon grew frustrated, “Where’s Celina?”

The demon shrugged again swirling his empty shot glass, “Don’t know.”

Namjoon grabbed the collar of the guy and dragged him outside through a side exit door into an alley. He shoved the demon up to the brick wall, “You’re going to tell me where she is.”

“And what, what are you going to give me if I do?”

Namjoon held out his hand, “Flax.” His scythe appeared in his hand and he shoved it under the guys jaw. “Nothing, you get nothing, but you get to live. I could feed you to Edax as I slice you up and feed you to him piece by piece.”

Panic filtered in the eyes as his eyes flickered between the scythe and him. “You’re the R-R-R-Reaper? “

The guy flipped the switched in a second the cocky smirk returning, “You can’t, that’s against Satera.”

Namjoon pushed the scythe harder into the guys jaw, “Watch me.”

The guy gulped, “Okay, okay, chill bro!”

“WHERE!”

“I last saw her here about a week ago. She looked really desperate, like sickly dude. I swear she was like fallin’ apart or some shit. I was gonna approach her but she already had another dude she was smashing faces with, then they disappeared.”

Namjoon kept his eyes locked on the guy waiting for more information. The guy squinted his eyes trying to think of more information, “Ugh-ugh, oh! Oh! What was weird was she smelled like cemetery soil, like strongly.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, “Like…dirt?”

The guy nodded frantically. “That’s all I know. Let me go!”

Namjoon released the guys collar, droping the guy to the floor like a rag doll. The guy scurried to his feet, slipping a few times, then ran for it. He made one last comment over his shoulder, “Your crazy man!”

Namjoon stood there in the alleyway in the sickly yellow flood light over him. His dress shoes chuffing the tarmac of the alley. He watches as the demon slips away.

One year, he was supposed to have a year. A Lich’s corpse last a year before decomposition is too much and the animation disapparates. She needed new flesh, soon, and consuming raw meat in the mean time wasn’t going to hold her over much longer. Celina was putting herself out in the open more, her real self. He looked at his reflection in his scythe. Time was running out.

Black smoke cradled around him and he vanished into thin air. He manifested in the entryway and caught the edge of your feet as you were ascending the staircase. “Y/N?”

You stopped mid-step and turned towards him. In a tired voice, “Welcome home Joon.” He noticed the dark circles under your eyes have become heavier. “There’s leftovers in the fridge for you, make sure to heat them up if you’re hungry.”

He nodded, “Are you going to sleep?”

You nodded in return, “I’ve had a long day.”

He felt something crawling up his throat. “You don’t want to watch TV on the couch until you fall asleep? I swear I won’t hog the blanket, I swear.”

A small smile creeped onto your face, “No, not today Joon. Tomorrow maybe, okay?”

He sadly nodded, and you turned around making your way back up the stairs.

Your scent finally registered, he was so used to coming home to a twisted sell of delicate scents, but that daunting smell hit him like a cold shower. He smelled it thickly in the air, in fact it feels like it’s taken over the house, Cemetery dirt, soil tainted by death. Its leaking from you.

His long legs took the stairs two by two and he grabbed onto your upper arm, “What’s wrong y/n?”

You both stood still for a moment, then you turned around gently and thunked your head on his shoulder. He pulled you into his arms wrapping them tightly around your waist, “What’s wrong?”

Honest words hanging on the edge of your tongue, “I’m just tired.”

He didn’t believe you, you smelled otherwise, he’s smelled it from you before. He thought back to the demon’s words: soil. Celina smelled like soil. He tried an alternative, “You sure you don’t want to watch some TV?”

You shook your head wrapping your arms around him, “I just want to sleep.” You squeezed him once then let go, leaving a lasting touch on his arm before you turned around

He called your name as you were halfway up, words hanging on the tip of his tongue but couldn’t actualize. He swallowed it, because honestly, he didn’t know. He didn’t know how much time you had left. How long it was before everything came crashing down. It could be in the next second, or tomorrow. “Good night.”

You whispered back, “Good night, Joon.”

He watched as you disappeared around the corner, your hand being the last glimpse as it held onto the banister. He felt in his gut. Celina was on the move and moving fast. That dirt…you smelled like it. He was extremely worried, but you were being stubborn about letting him in. Just as he was, but only telling you would worry you. He needed to be around more, if the connection between you both was getting stronger he needed to be by your side. The hound he had secretly tagging along with you when you left the house wasn’t enough anymore. You didn’t have to know though, he could be your shadow.

He went to your work to check up on you, he even bought a coffee to leave on your desk secretly. However, you weren’t there, you weren’t even in their system anymore. He grew worried, then angry the longer he looked for you. Your car wasn’t even in the parking lot. He went to the roof and called upon his scythe. He let blackness cloud his eyes as he commanded, “Ostende mihi Y/n”. He sliced through the air creating a portal for himself. He looked into the vortex and saw you in a familiar setting that you didn’t belong in. He watched as your hands stretched out and you were chanting out…incantations! His jaw dropped then clenched hard. You had been going behind his back! He saw blue glowing from your hands and that’s when he dropped your coffee and charged through the portal.

“Wands are training wheels for the hands, as you get more practice you won’t need a conductor for your major and instead you will be able to conjure it from your hands.” She took the wand out of your hand and set it on the table, “Try it, try it with your hands.”

“I-I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Trust me child.” She turned you to the windowsill. “See, focus on that potted plant…now levitate it, this should be easy.”

You breathed in heavily and pointed your hands at it, “Volarsa”

The pot remained still. You tried it again with a different tone, but it didn’t levitate. You turned toward Kaya with a pout, you weren’t sure about this working without a wand. She knocked three times then clasped her hands behind her back, “Be patient, it will work.”

You turned back towards the pot and kept repeating the spell. Hours had passed by and sweat was running down your temple until you taste salt in the corner of your mouth. You wiped it away and licked your lips, you had gotten the pot to vibrate. You were so close. You just needed something, a push, you let your thoughts wander about the people’s life on the line, yours, Kaya’s…and Namjoon’s.

“Volarsa!” You shouted at the pot concentrating on the object. You held up your trembling hands and it vibrated intensely as before, you slowly started lifting your hands from the wrist. The pot oscilated on the spot then finally…it started lifting. You broke a smile and kept your hands strict forcing the pot to rise. It was heavy, heavier than lifting a pot without magic and lifted off he clay pigeon until it was floating in the air. “KAYA! KAYA, I DID IT! I did it!”

A dark cloud of smoke rolled in constructing itself into a shadow, but you were too submerged in your happiness to notice. “Did what exactly Y/n?”

You jumped, hands losing their concentration as you released the spell and the pot came crashing down. You abruptly faced the Reaper, “Namjoon!”

“You lied to me! I told you not to do this.” He stomped right up to you.

You stuttered taking a few steps back, “I-I-I.” You clasped your hand behind your back as if they were the guilty culprits.

“Why are you practicing!”

Kaya came around the corner with an extra mug, “Hello, Darling, its been a while.”

The black smoke rolling around him cut off, his eyes widening, “Kaya?”

She put the mug in his hand, with a flick of her wrist she commanded the broom and dust pan to do their job. “Sit down and watch, well discuss it later; you just ruined something big.”

“She’s practicing witchcra—!”

She whipped around, “I said, sit down.”

He obeyed tucking his tail between his legs but grumbled the whole time. She beckoned you to continue, “Go ahead Y/n, try it again on the Saffron.”

You eyed Namjoon with hesitation, but you turned towards the flowers. You had to prove yourself worthy. This was your chance to show Namjoon you could do this. You had to be the one to put an end to this with Namjoon.

You breathed in a deep breath letting the oxygen saturate your blood fully with a breath laced with confidence. You wiped your brow of sweat and held out your hands, shaking out the nerves a few times, then place them in a commanding stance. You closed your eyes and sprung your hard rimmed eyes open as you casted with confidence, “VOLARSA!”

The Saffron pot jerked about, oscillating in its spot like the last time. You kept focus on it then raised your hands slowly and with a bit of delay the pot raised from the pigeon into the air. You held it there for a moment then lowered it down safely finally taking a breath again. You heaved and turned with a smile on your face and Kaya smiled back at you once she heard the clinking clay.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, “She can lift a pot, so what? How’s that going to protect her from Celina?”

Kaya smiled and sipped from her tea with her eyebrows slightly raised. “You underestimate the important of lifting a pot. Don’t you remember how you started out with your scythe?”

He shut up real quick, turning away from her in his chair like a sulking child. “Child, you’ve done well. You’re ready for the heavier, unspoken spells.”

Namjoon spit out the tea he was bitterly sipping, “Now you’re pushing the importance!”

“Hush, Joon.” She shushed him by bringing her hand up and zipped his mouth shut. He grumbled behind his closed lips. You spat out laughing hard enough your eyes shut; you needed to learn that spell. She stood up and walked her way over to you, looking over her shoulder as she stood next to you, “Someone had to do it.”

The rest of the evening she moved on to different things and taught you other foundational spells and techniques. Namjoon’s mouth was sealed the whole evening, but you could feel the tension from him. He remained patient and watched you as you picked up things easily. He was impressed, but he was afraid. The potential energy and magic that you have in your amateur hands could be dangerous. He was worried…because of whom your source of magic was coming from.

What if you turned out like her?

Kaya tapped your shoulder, “That’s enough for today.”

You sat at the work table with Joon, reluctantly sitting down across from him. His eyes were squared on you with bitterness flowing towards you. Kaya sat down at the table with a steaming kettle pouring more tea into her cup and Namjoon’s, “Float a cup over for yourself.”

You looked across the room and pointed to a clean cup. You muttered under your breath and a cup levitated itself and clunked it onto the table right in front of you.

She unzipped him and as soon as his lips were free he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “Kaya! What if—what if she turns out to be like...!”

Kaya turned to him, “Her?”

He spat, “Exactly!”

“After all she’s done, haven’t we’ve been through enough. Y/n doesn’t deserve this.”

You look between them, feeling completely lost. Just how much didn’t you know? How did Namjoon know Kaya? You haven’t really pieced it together until now, why was she in his journal?

He sharply turned his attention to you, “How did you find this place?”

You stuttered out a thinning voice, “I-I.”

“I contacted her, I just felt Celina’s magic again and had to figure out if it was her, but instead I found Y/n.” You were surprised, Kaya stepped in to save you.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, he wasn’t completely buying it. Under her breath barely audible to your ears, “The hound ’s loyal to their mistress not their master apparently.”

He turned to you to question further, but again Kaya stepped in to save you, “Calm down Namjoon, I can tell you that’s not what’s going to happen. I don’t see the same darkness in her that I saw in my sister. That won’t happen with Y/n.”

You blinked in shock, “How do you two know eachother?”

She casually grabbed onto both of your hands, “Revelata veritas occulta, monstrate memoriis vero Princeps.” In the next second you felt an energy surging through you, coursing through your heart then being. Your eyes blurred, swirling in a glowing green like Kaya’s. Namjoon watched on as you closed your eyes grunting, then they sprung open completely glowing blue.

He hissed at Kaya trying to release her hand, “What are you doing!”

Kaya remained patient, holding his hand tight, “Revealing the truth.”

In your ears their argument faded out. Behind your glowing eyes you were taken back, but this time you watched through Namjoon’s eyes.

Namjoon was acquainted with the sisters, as the witch community was tangled with the supernaturals. Everyone in the supernatural community knew of the witch sisters, the greatest witches of their generation. When Namjoon inherited the role of being Reaper, Kaya and Celina were the first ones to congratulate him. He grew close to the sisters, they were like real sisters to him; especially Kaya who helped him wield his scythe and even taught him some spells on the side.

Namjoon’s heart dropped when he received word to collect, to collect Celina’s soul. How had such a good person fallen?

His memory picked up right where Kaya’s had left off with Namjoon arriving in tragic timing. Celina had casted a spell over the house to cover her tracks. When he manifested in the hallway of Kaya’s home and the smoke faded, Kaya was already paralyzed, covering her eyes with her bloody hands. He ran over to her as she muttered out, “Mallory.”

He pulled her hands down from her eyes and gasped when he saw her pearly eyes, “Kaya, what happened?”

Kaya panted, feeling for him, “Namjoon! She—She!”

He heard thumping coming from the hallway. He stood in front of Kaya protectively against whatever was there. A large gangly figure popped out form the shadows wailing, “Mommy!”

Namjoon stood there, fear struck. Kaya screamed, “Celina, what have you done!”

Namjoon knew that the council would be coming soon since Celina had just been here. Kaya grabbed at his pant leg, “Please, Namjoon, protect my son!”

Namjoon didn’t have much choice, so he did the only think he could think of. He took out his scythe and with both hands he wrapped it around the staff and casted. Mallory began to be engulfed in black smoke. His similarly pearl eyes searched out his mother, he tried screaming for his mother, but it just came out as animalistic growls taking over his voice.

Namjoon took him to the only place he knew that would be safe, Limbo. He kept Mallory in a cave with a protective seal to keep anyone from entering, safe from the knowledge of supernaturals and other warlocks. He knew if the council found out what happened to Mallory there would be grave consequences.

He stayed with the child and would visit Kaya routinely. He knew he couldn’t fill the void of her son, but he was there for her like she was for him. He’d do anything for her.

They tried everything, every spell, hex, and art she knew to uplift the curse, but nothing worked. He helped her adjust, however, Kaya adapted quickly on her own.

Kaya persuaded Namjoon to let her see her child. Reluctantly he brought Kaya to see her son. She would hug her son and he would grunt out, no longer capable of speech while hugging his mother. He was still himself despite the curse. When she felt her son she’d began crying, she’d apologize and promised him she’d find a solution to revert him back. She was never going to give up, she worked herself to the bone, researching and testing lifting spells. However, no matter how great of a witch she was, no spell worked, the curse was too heavy. It was impossible to cure the curse.

Months passed by and Mallory began to forget his humanistic ways, slowly started becoming the monster he was cursed to be.  

Against Namjoon’s protest, he brought Kaya to see her son. He had seen the change happen, the growth of the beast, the greedy curse taking over the child’s soul. He couldn’t tell her, he wanted to fix this before she found out.

As they came into the cave, they found Mallory consuming a wandering soul. Kaya heard it all, the disgusting sounds and crunching of bone. Namjoon witness the horrific image of intestines being yanked from the corpse and it being grind it up in the boar’s jaw.

Namjoon panicked, “Kaya, you can’t see him today! Go back!”

She protested, she wanted to meet her son, not believing the sounds were from her precious child. He shouted the truth, “He’s not your son anymore, but a monster!”

Kaya remained silent, the truth weighing heavy on her after she’s been denying it for months, tears streamed down her face as she stood there listening to Namjoon stopping her gorging son—or at least he was.

He hated doing this, but he had to chain him up. He couldn’t let him wander about, it was too dangerous.

Soon enough Satera found out about the souls being consumed. She herself showed up in the cave to expel the behemoth herself. “Reaper, this being belongs in the pits! He is no Earthly creation!”

Namjoon stopped her and explained what had happened, how it was Celina’s evil doing, that there was a human being underneath. Her green glow about her died down and sympathy rang about her. She slowly walked towards the beast—Mallory—who growled in agitation. She hushed him and surprisingly he obeyed. She touched his forehead and her eyes swirled as she watched the whole story unravel in her eyes. She pulled away, sorrowfully petting his head a few times. She gave Namjoon a deal ,”I cannot break this curse, his soul has been nearly completely consumed. But if you can promise me that…that this Edax Animae can collect evil or wandering souls and you’d send the spirits to the pits, then he can remain on Earth.”

Namjoon agreed immediately, “Yes, yes, I can promise that.”

She raised her hand silencing him, “And…only if you watch over him, then he can remain.”

Namjoon told Kaya of the deal for hours she cried, guilt weighing heavy on her, but she was grateful. He could live.

Years went by, decades went by and the chase with Celina continued. Celina grew stronger and her craft immensely more potent. He would visit Kaya less and less because he had to take on other collections. Celina’s disturbances became fewer and she’d always escape his grasp in the nick of time. Before he knew it, he stopped visiting Kaya all together, but he kept his promise. He always watched over Mallory, even if he wasn’t Mallory anymore.

Time speed up from there in blurs, you saw fights, the sickly image of Celina before him in a forest, but with a different possession every other memory. Time swirled again, and it was her again but different each time they fought, but she’d get away.

Then there was you. You across the table from him, as he slid into the booth. You felt the smugness as he felt like had caught the mouse. Time warped to when you were brought to Edax, then all the nights you spent together eating dinner,  you saw the way he watched you as you were watching TV, or how you came in the door after work greeting him with a smile. It was blurs of the both of you, up until this very point, you sitting across from him.  

You gasped as you were pulled back into reality ripping you from the tar of memories. The glowing green began to fade from your eyes as you came to consciousness. You felt your limbs succumbing to a great fatigue as your legs lost control and you began slipping from your chair.

Namjoon let go of Kaya’s hand and caught you before you collapsed to the floor. “Kaya, this is too much for her! I told her she needs to stay out of this!”

You gasped and clutched onto his shirt, “Namjoon, I have to do this.”

He looked down at you, “No!”

You cupped his face smoothing the wrinkles building under his eyes, “Namjoon, I’m not Celina. I’m not her.”

Something you never expected caused your hand to halt. Tears were building in his eyes until a single tear slipped down his cheek, “I can’t lose you.”

You smiled, “You won’t, I promise. She’s not going to win. Trust me.”

He looked at you then to Kaya feeling the pressure from both of you, “Fine.”

Now that you were able to practice freely your skills were only growing at an exponential rate. Especially since you could practice at home out in the open. Crafting just felt so natural to you. You were going through spell books like water. Kaya put you through obstacles testing you on your skills and reflexes. That meant training became far more intense, pushing you to your breaking point every day. She made a pseudo room for you to cast spells and strike dummies.

You paced around the abysmal room, you could never see the walls in the room, you honestly didn’t know if there were any. You stood under a bright white spotlight waiting for your next target, and in front of you Celina manifested. You knew it wasn’t her, but a dummy. It looked so much like her, like the image you saw that night in your bathroom. Even though she was a dummy you knew not to let your discomfort show.

She opened her eyes, completely black and soulless. There was no banter exchanged, a blaze of green light aimed right for you. Two more jets of green light zoomed past you from the arthritic hands of Celina. You spewed hexes and spells back avoiding each of her strikes. This was fake, so it wouldn’t have a lasting strike if it did hit you, but still you avoided each strike.

Carelessly with that knowledge you faced her straight on and called out a spell that would knock her off her feet. She swerved and in the next blink she was in front of you, “You lose.” She brought her hands up and chanted out a curse, one you had passed by Kaya before in curiosity, but she narrowed her eyes completely upset, “Never, never, EVER, utter those words.”

The black eyes of Celina were all you could focus on as she was nearly nose to nose with you. You were paralyzed in fear, none of the other dummies had gotten this close to you. You didn’t dare blink, the next moment the body melted, bubbled and Namjoon was face to face to you. The same eyes remained, he hissed like a snake, “Internum Cuppedine.”

You screamed and for a moment you believed there were walls as you screamed loud enough that it bounced off the invisible walls. Loud, hot blindingly loud. The pain was consuming as you dropped to your knees in front of Namjoon, whole body quivering. He walked around you, a smirk form on his face, “I will watch you die in the most painful way.”

This wasn’t real, this wasn’t supposed to be real, but why was the pain so real. Namjoon would never do this too you. This wasn’t happened. You struggled trying to break, but the more you struggled the more painful it was.

“It will be my uptmost pleasure.” He raised his hand up slowly, body morphing back to Celina’s figure, you levitating with it. You dangled in the air twitching as the curse caused you to spasm. He clenched his hand, you feel the pressure around your throat. It’s so much, so much. With a finally squeeze of her hand everything goes dark.

You wake up gasping for air on the floor of Kaya’s craft room. The roaring fire, the cracking of the wood in the mantle alerting you you’re back in the real world. Was this real? Was that all fake? You lifted up sitting on your side coughing. You grabbed at your throat where you felt the phantom feeling of the grasp. You felt a drop on your hand, you pulled away and a drop of blood was on your hand. You raised it and checked your nose. Your nose was bleeding.

Was that just a dummy?

You didn’t tell Kaya or Joon what had happened in the training room. The crackling fire burning in the mantle casted long shadows over the room, so you relied on the candle next to you to illuminate the words on the book you were reading. Kaya had gone to sleep a while ago, you sat there intently listening for the snores to begin. When you were sure she was asleep you slipped off your stool and ventured over to the library. Stealthily you avoided the creaky wood planks as you tip toed over to a bookcase. You trailed over books that you’ve been eyeing for a while, the forbidden ones. Kaya had warned you against them, you didn’t need to know those spells.

You thought different, the more ignorant you were to this stuff the more vulnerable you were. You needed to know what the animation had said to you.

You pulled out a nameless black book and snuck it back to the table. You pushed away the book you were “studying” and placed the new book in front of you. It felt different, it was a thin book, but it weighed as heavy as a science textbook. You tried opening the book, but it refused to open. Knowing Kaya it must’ve been hexed closed.

You thought back to all the things you had learned, sourcing through all the spells you knew. You were going to try something you didn’t know would work, but you’d try. Holding your hand over the book you whispered out, “Abracadabra.”

Nothing happened, you were expecting something a bit more dramatic. Maybe a puff of smoke or like a comical soul arising, but nothing.

You reached for the cover and it pulled back and it opened. The binding creaking with the new book sound, but you knew this book was far from being young. Gothic text etched in the center entailed “Book of Dreadful Curses.”

Your body felt giddy, you were actually going through with this. You flipped the coffee colored pages that were fragile, each page had entries that were handwritten with depictions every so often. This seemed more like a lab book than a dictionary for curses. The description for these curses were horrible promises of unescapable torture, pain and lunacy. You read over a few: Martyium promised self-sacrifice but not with the will of the cursed; Impotente promised lunacy; Dissolvo promised decomposition. You scrolled through pages, each page more interesting than the last. However, you didn’t dare to repeat aloud, only allowing them to hiss in your mind, you had that much sense.

You opened this book for one specific curse, Internum Cuppedine. You flipped through the pages and soon enough the pages were blank. The journal entries had ended abruptly. You kept flipping though and you nearly scanned past it but on a single page two lone spells were written, but one specific one caught your eye: Internum Cuppedine.

Internum Cuppedine: Level IX, extreme malice and intention to harm. A torture spell that causes sensation similar to burning from the inside out, asphyxiation, violent trembling and loss of physical control. Results from curse causes permanent damage and if continuous, death.

Shuffling came from the door, Kaya groggily asking, “You’re still here child?” You closed the book shut and propped your elbow on it, then with your elbow you brushed it under the other you were studying. Even though she couldn’t see, you still felt like a child caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“Yeah-yeah, I just wanted to finish up this last chapter then go home.”

A smile bloomed on her face, “You worked hard enough, go home child. You’ll need the rest for tomorrow.

You nodded, “I will.” You began to pack up your stuff edging off the stool, “Good night Kaya.” Her figure disappeared down the hallway as she mumbled to you. You waited until the sound of her closing her door before you set down your bag. You were just going to read a bit more…just a bit more.

Just a bit more.

Namjoon would stop by and pick you up from Kaya’s because he knew if he didn’t come and get you you’d stay all night. Despite things being open, you’ve spent more time a part now that everything was on the table.

Besides throwing up, a new habit crawled its way into your routine. You started having nightmares every night since the dummy incident; Celina would always have the main role. The dreams would be vivid, but it was the same dream every night. You relieved the moment in the training room over and over again. Each night it would escalate, but it was the same environment. Celina’s dark figure would leave you paralyzed as she came towards you. She’d look you dead in the eyes and her lips would spread past her cheeks in a sinister smile. She violently thrusted her hand through your chest and ripped your heart out. She’d laugh and consume your heart like a morsel. She licked her fingers of your blood and with the same dirty hands she pushed you. You’d tip back unable to save yourself and you’d fall down into an endless grave.

Namjoon heard you screaming springing from his own bed and ran into your room. You were trashing under your covers, he sat down next to you shaking you awake, “Y/n! Y/n! Wake up!”

You sprung up violently sucking in air. When you noticed Namjoon was there beside you, you clutched onto him panting. He collected you into his arms holding the back of your head with one of his hands. You buried your head into his chest, he rubbed your back soothing you, “Shhhh, It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He’d lay you back down when your trembling stopped.  “Want me to stay with you until you fall asleep again?”

You nodded rapidly, “Please.”

He scooched you over and laid beside you, his body taking up a large portion of the bed. He pulled you into his chest petting your hair, “It’s okay, I’m here go back to sleep. I won’t leave.” You nodded against his chest, his scent bringing comfort to you. It took about half an hour until you fell back asleep. His naturally low, deep voice sung you to sleep.

To your ignorance he was chanting away the demons, casting a protection spell over your mind for the night. A sleep worm had made its way into your dreams. He held the back of your head as you fell fast asleep. He kept chanting, slowly pulling his hand away from your head and along with it the worm that had plagued your dream. He squished it in his hands and it sizzled in his grip. You sighed in relief when he pulled it out and you eased into his chest limply, truly asleep.

His eyes narrowed as he looked over you and into the shadows of your bedroom. It was your silhouette in the shadows, but it wasn’t you. He could only sigh and hold you close, there was no telling when, but there wasn’t much time left. He fell asleep with you cradled in his arms, he didn’t want to let you go.

In his arms, you were safe.

You didn’t want to fall asleep, it was hard distinguishing the sun and the moon lately. White bled into black and you were somewhere in Limbo. Kaya had gone to sleep long ago; teaching had worn her out despite you doing all the work. Namjoon was here earlier but left when he was summoned. You slipped on his blazer you had brought with you on accident today when a draft came over the room. It partially still smelled like him, mostly because he tried it on again today, “Sure it was an accident Y/n. You like me that much huh?”

You blushed furiously attacking him with the best come back you could think of, “You wish.”

Sitting alone you wrapped it tighter around yourself. You looked around, despite knowing you were alone, and pulled out from under your other book the Book of Dreadful Curses. You hated to admit it but you were drawn towards it. Who were the people that made such craft, and who were they after? You were just so curious.

In your ear you heard a moaning whisper, “Y/N.”

You turned around expecting Kaya in the doorway, but no one was there. Maybe Kaya and Joon were right, you have been overworking yourself to the point you were hearing things. You waited, maybe Kaya would appear a second later, but there was nothing. You went back to flipping the pages and felt a chill down your spine as another barely audible whisper tickled your ear, “Y/N.”

The lights above you flickered, and the omnipresent voice cackled. The hair on the back of your neck raised as the roaring fire in the fireplace suddenly extinguishing. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, it was dead silent. You were waiting, waiting in anticipation.

A struck of lightening jetted passed you striking the pit of embers reigniting the roaring flame, a flame so big that it licked your spine. You screamed at the intense heat and in shimmer of mist a figure before you manifested.

It was Celina.

You stumbled backwards, hitting the wall knocking down picture frames and crystals. One look at her and you could tell why she was here though, the once gorgeous woman was wilting away. Her flesh was rotting away in some spots as ghastly purple and grey chunks were missing; Streaming down her barely fitting dress was mud, you recognized that dress, it was the dress.

Celina trailed around the table with an awkward gait, “I told you you’d know my name when the time comes.” She smirked dropping a potion bottle on the floor and crunching the glass with her bare feet. “It’s our day darling!” The lights flickered manically as she raised her both her hands, fingers stretched outwards with the tips burning red.

A bolt of magic zoomed past your head and hit just near Celina’s head. The lights stabled. You turned, and Kaya was behind you with her hands raised, “Celina!”

Celina stumbled, “Sister, I thought you died a long time ago.”

Kaya scoffed, “You underestimate me.”

Celina huffed, “I won’t miss this time.”

Celina extended her arm and fired bolts towards the both of you. The crackling magic destroyed the shelf behind us and all Kaya’s tea cups fell to the floor. Kaya pushed you behind her and you both managed to fire back at her. Celina sensed the magic before the strikes and dodged them easily. You’ve never seen this before, Kaya was wielding beyond your comprehension. A rally of blue and red bolts soared across the room. You were dragged to hide under a desk along with Kaya, “Child, run, run while you can. I’ll take care of her.”

You shook your head, “No, I’m staying here and fighting with you. This is my battle as much as it is yours.”

“You’re not ready child! Run!” Kaya grunted, red flames roared above us as Celina grew frustrated.

“Come on out Kaya, you’re not a coward to hide. Come and fight me once and for all! Let’s end this!”

You couldn’t let Kaya get hurt, you’ve worked hard for this moment. This was it. “No, I’m ready,” you punctuated. You took the risk and stood up on your own. You raised your hand and fired out a spell at Celina. A charged spell shot out from your hands at her.

She dodged it and laughed, a hearty laugh, “Oh-ho-ho, Look at you my pretty! A witch in the making! Oh, how great it will be when I take over you. A perfect vessel, perfect blood.”

You fell right into her trap and she chanted, then a pulsing neon purple cloud consumed the both of you. Kaya gripped onto your hand, “NO, Y/N!” Her grip on you disappeared and you were consumed in opaque purple. A wave of nausea hit you that you were now familiar with. You came to in a dense fog feeling the cold breath of life resurge through you again. You knew this place, you knew it very well—Limbo, the edge of hell, where Namjoon first took you.

You whispered out his name out of habit, “Namjoon.”

“It’s just you and I,” the sick cackling echoed throughout the clearing. The silhouetted figures stopped their roaming as if Satan had called upon them and ran from the site. Celina’s red glow fired up and shot towards you, “Mine!”

You lifted your hands and chanted dangerous spells under your breath trying to keep up with her razor-sharp fast attacks. Her body may be decaying but her mind was sharp. It was hard to tell where the next strike would come from because of the fog. You ran behind a tree catching your breath, as quietly as you could you knocked on the tree three times. You could hear her footsteps approaching and on instincts you bolted from your safety. The next second the tree you were hiding behind cracked in half catching fire.

You ran out into the clearing and fired green jets at her with no sense of direction. She whirled around and flicked her wrist manically as she growled.

In the center of us a cloud of black smoke manifested and from it emerged Kaya and Namjoon. Kaya put up a protective shield around the both of them and ultimately you. Celina’s bolt crashed against the shield like tsunami wave crashing on a boulder.

Kaya turned her hands like a wheel and used that energy and shouted, “Praesidio!” The magical wave reversed itself and turned it back on the caster.

Namjoon sprinted towards you, “Y/n!” You ran up to him wrapping your arms tightly around him, you just needed that moment. You broke the embrace when Celina roared, and fireworks flared between Celina and Kaya.

Celina protected herself from the returning wave by casting her own shield.  She grew frustrated, “SURGERIMUS!” From the ground hands popped up like daisies, soon enough skulls and fifty some full bodies rose. Their bodies were devoid of skin with insects who’ve burrowed themselves in cavities. It was an uproar as the swarming corpses stampeded their way towards us with loud war cries. The three of you equally regarded them charging forward into the mess. In a single swipe you shattered the center of a corpse with its limbs exploding towards all directions. Namjoon moved his scythe about with brutal strength, twirling past extended jaws lunging to bite severing heads off cleanly. Kaya strikes with palm open knocking down two at a time.

She turned around confronted with Celina no less than a few feet away, “Hello Sister.”

Celina growled firing spells, cold hatred behind each venomous strike. She was sending incantations, smiting with all she had. Kaya used her instincts to her advantage, a century of development with her impairment. She swayed and slashed her magic as jets of light flew from both of them. From under them the fog diminished seeing the forest floor for the first time. The ground below them shimmering as dangerous spells fireworked around their feet. The two witches were battling for blood, for the kill.

“Oh, Kaya you can’t protect her, just like you couldn’t protect your son.”

“DON’T SPEAK OF HIM THAT WAY!” Soaring bolts still progress back and forth like a tennis rally. “You will never touch my children again!” screamed Kaya.

A side of Celina’s lips raised, “Think again.”

It happened so fast. Suddenly Kaya was lifted off the floor floating in the air, an invisible force wrapping around her neck and squeezing tight. “It’s ironic, the one who wrote the Book of Dreadful Curses is going to experience it firsthand.” Kaya’s eyes bulged as Celina’s cursed the worst forbidden curse, “Silento.” The curse wrapped around Kaya and in one movement Kaya’s neck jerked abstractly.

"Kaya…Kaya...," you stupidly repeated watching as her body falls to the ground in a single thud. You felt something in you falling, something you'd never get back. Three corpses try suffocating you, but you scream out a smite that sends the three of them soring.

Namjoon takes advantage of the opening and charges at Celina, his anger taking over his actions. He dug the stem of his scythe into the ground and used it to lunge across corpses to land in front of her. He growls as he raises from his squat, “HOW COULD YOU!”  

You slaughter any corpses in your path as you walk like Moses as your hands work without turning away from Kaya. Bones, flesh and fluids coat you and fly in front of you but you pay it no attention. You yell out, “Praesido,” casting a shield over the both of you as you fall to your knees next to her. You pick her up carefully, you don’t want to hurt her any further. You scoot her up onto your lap, you touch her face and caress trying something, “Kaya, come back, you can’t, you can’t leave me.” You continue to caress her head, “NO, NO, NO, NO!”

She was gone.

Namjoon charged towards Celina, efficiently cutting her magic as it deflected off his scythe. He readied himself and charged at her again and again no resting between his blows. Crossing of blue hell flame from the scythe and crimson magic from Celina collided illuminations. They collided her magnificent jets holding back Namjoon’s scythe, their flames blending at the collision point a vibrant violet. They were matched in power, but there was no love in war.

Namjoon screamed, “I will collect you Celina!”

Celina cackled, “Never!”

Her power surged causing an explosion between them, Namjoon was sent flying from the impact and he crashed against a tree with a thud. From the ground hundreds of hands began clawing around him. He screamed reaching his hand out of the mound that gathered around him. They buried him underneath the soil.

“NAMJOON!” From your protective shield as you held Kaya in your arms, you screamed until your throat was raw. You crouched over Kaya body tears streaming down your face, you wiped away the tears as Celina staggered towards you. Her body was falling apart as her hourglass was running out. She needed to change, she needed a new body, she needed you.

You don’t know where this strength stemmed from, but you raised from the ground. “I’m sorry Kaya.” You weren’t the same Y/n you were when you first encountered Celina. You were going to use everything of hers against her. Hands buzzed on their own accord, like some magnet, a burning emerald fire crackled on your hands. You had summoned a raging strength from deep within you. Your hands lit up and the flames of magical ombre emerald washed up to your elbows. You marched without breaking pace through your protective shield as if it was invisible. Wind swirled around you your hair whipping around you and Namjoon’s blazer rustling about.

This cycle had to stop.

Chaos ensued moments later, bolts of energy cut through the dense fog. “CELINA!” You mow through the animations who came rushing at you.

Celina shouted, “I shall have your life!”

Your power pulsed through you, it was like a second skin guiding you in the chaos.  You stomped your foot into the dense soil concentrating magic in your foot to shower her in dust. You took the opening chance to get closer to her and attack close range. You strike her chest hearing a crack then grabbed onto her arm. When you touch all the sudden both your eyes glow green. The both of you stop, the animations stop as well, eyes glowing green.

Blurs of her life past before your eyes, as you watched her and Kaya as children running through their childhood home, the same one Kaya took residence in. You watched Kaya protect Celina from bullies, but from that Celina grew furious, ‘I can protect myself’

As a teenager she pushed Kaya away. She watched her Sister being doted on by her parents, by her peers, praised by anyone and everyone. There she was, alone. You watch as she sneaks into her sister’s room and steals a black leather book, the Book of Dreadful Curses. She flipped through the book it was only full of small spells at the time. A dreadful smirk curves on Celina’s face, she had dirt on her sister. She confronted their parents about Kaya’s book, feeling finally she had dirt on her perfect sister. Yet, they didn’t believe it was Kaya’s at all, but Celina’s book. Celina’s felt betrayed and resented her sister as Kaya let Celina take all the blame.

The memory whirl pooled jumping in time where Celina was a young adult. She was in the forest with a man double her age. The man she seduced was ignorant to her eyes open as they kiss. She took a knife and stabbed the man. She placed him in a circle and chanted, wicking up candles as she performed. The man rose like nothing had happened, but his eyes are completely black. She panicked, panicked because she never thought she could do it. She murders the man once more and buries him somewhere. The cycle continues with different men and women. She writes more in the book who was mistakenly hers, she develops the curses as she practices them.

You watch as she’s brought before the Hecate council, on her knees. They found out she was performing curses and had murdered a mortal. They were punishing her when she erupted, filling the room with black smoke and escaped. She ran off to the only place she knew, home. She ran into the house, up the stairs and into the kitchen where her sister was sipping tea. “Kaya, they’re coming for me! We have to leave! They’re coming for me.”

Kaya doesn’t handle the news well. Celina does the only thing she knows, she lifted her arms and recites something from the book she created.

She regrets it as soon as it happens trying to undo the curse, but there’s no turning back. She leaves the book and disappears. Leaving all trace of her family and her older self behind.

Celina lives everywhere and anywhere sucking the life out of others, the longer she spent practicing the Dark Arts the harder she fell.

The undead aspect of it began to consume her as you watched as she looked in the mirror and she was but a skeleton. She was wearing that dress, the dress, as she woke from a new reanimation. You watch her crawl out of the soil and walk through a forest. She cracks her neck and smirks.

You knew what happened from there…you were next.

 The bond was broken and the corpses collapsed to the floor with nothing left in them. You don’t let a second blip by and you were acting.

Celina growled out, shock flitting across her face, “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?”

You chanted out something you promised you would never use, but rules are meant to be broken. You roared out a curse, “ABSCINDERE!” Your hand glowed a violent light and for a moment you felt light headed and a blinding light surged from your hand. A guttural scream followed and Celina stumbled backwards. Her arm severed off where your hand was on her upper arm. Your eyes bulged, you didn’t think that would work. You were panting hard, you felt a surging pain in your own arm where you had taken hers. You wanted to scream in pain, but you held it back.

She screamed at you, “YOU BITCH!!”

“Kaya will always be better than you, a better Witch!” Your winced in a moment of weakness, your arm really hurt.

“She was weak, she believed in love and all that other bullshit. Just like you, and that makes you weak.” The remnants of the dress on her body taunted you as well. Spitting in your face for your foolish choice, but you weren’t going to grasp at those threads. You were going to weave your own thread, not a resurgent’s.

“Do you not understand? Do you truly not understand what you’ve done? She never wrote that book for what you did with it, it was meant to lock them away forever.” You sucked in a deep breath, “DO YOU HAVE NO REMORSE KILLING KAYA!”

You tried looking for the tremble or shift in her eyes, but there was none. She truly meant it. “You defend her still when she’s already dead. No, I do not, I’d do it all over again.”

The threads were weaved and she was wrapped in her sin.

Celina grew impatient with the banter, “Kaya is dead, and so will you be!”

At the same time you both muttered out a spell meeting in the center between the both of you with an explosive reaction. You kept your hand stretched out strong just like hers as you both projected towards one another. You were in a gridlock as the spell in the center of you swirled about fiery red mixing with emerald.

You didn’t expect it, but hands popped up form the soil and grabbed at your ankles dragging you down. It was a cheap shot. The hands clasped around you, beginning to bury your feet causing you to lose your balance. Her spell hit you with full force, but the hands kept you grounded. You screamed as it burned and fell to your knees.

You struggled to raise yourself, something hot and dense dripping off your jaw cascading down the side of your face.

Celina began murmuring words that sounded like a thousand words whispering in your ears. You covered your ears trying to cancel them out but they only got louder. Fear surged through you as you began to feel weaker and weaker. The murmurs began to register in your mind, “Internum Cuppedine.”

She had control of your being. You felt a shift in the flow of your blood going against the gradient. She laughed manically contorting her hand stiffly, “Your blood is my blood sweetie. I’m going to claim what is mine now.”

She picked up her severed arm and you horrifically watched as it began to mend itself back to her torso. She kept whispering out her curse and she held out her hand and a knife conjured. The gunmetal blade was raised in the air and black flames began to engulf the blade. She clenched her hand around the blade and swiftly cut her palm covering it in her own thick blood.

“You are mine!” She flicked her wrist and your back bent backwards displaying your chest openly. You stared at the moonless sky, grey clouding your vision. You couldn’t do anything. She picked up speed, branches cracking under her feet as she broke out into a sloppy run. You could only watch as she ran it through your chest with ease. Her cursed knife’s black flames met the soft flesh of your chest with a quick squelch and cracking  your ribs with ease. You screamed, but it quickly was muffled as you gurgled on your own blood. You shakily grabbed over her hands looking Celina directly in the eyes. She kept pushing the knife deeper into your chest and you agonized a roar. She let go of the handle only to take some blood streaming down your neck into her palm. You were convulsing, trembling while your hands still held onto the knife. Breathing was difficult as thick rivets of blood was flowing down your chest.

“Just in time, a minute before midnight.” She laughed raising her hands up to the sky, “I will rise again!” She then brought it to her lips to drink.

Namjoon emerged from the dense fog, strong clanking of chains and growling announcing his ominous arrival. He held the leash of Edax Animae and his scythe in his other, face partially covered in blood with completely black eyes. The hounds formed a V formation around him, black smoke still leaving his mouth as hell still leaks from him. “You think the Reaper would die that easily? I never make mistakes.” Edax staggered, then caught Celina’s scent and tugged on the chains. Namjoon raised the leash and whipped them letting go of them on his down swing, “Sick her boys.”

Celina didn’t get a chance drink as Edax Animae hunched down and ran towards her like an animal growling and roaring. The hounds ran behind Edax snarling and barking ferociously. With an open Jaw he pierced her with his tusk and scooped her body into his jaw like a Venus fly trap. Haunting screams followed gurgling sounds as Edax feasted. Celina’s hand fell limp as it hung out of Edax jaw. Celina was dead and because of her own curse.

A black sludge trudged like a slug away from the corpse. Namjoon brought his scythe up and chopped down on it multiple times, splatters of black ink hitting his face. The sludge evaporated, never to be dealt with again. Celina was collected.

Edax began coughing, his body hacking up the stolen body Celina had used. He roared shaking his head around violently and slowly his body began to transform. His flesh rippling, features bubbling, fur receding and tusk collapsing to the floor off his face.

“Edax!”

The being shrunk reducing itself back into a small boy covering in mud and blood. The boy panted as he collapsed to his knee fainting from the shift. Namjoon picked him up in his arms and the boy still had a pulse, “Mallory!”

His attention turned when he heard a gurgling. His eyes widened impossibly, and he clutched the boy tighter to his chest. He stood up with Mallory in his arms calling out your name, “Y/N! Where aRE YOU? ANSWER ME!”

Namjoon searched within the fog and found you kneeling on the floor not far from Kaya. “Y/N!” He gently set down Mallory to inspect you, hands not sure were to fall as he looked at you horrified. Your hands were still wrapped around the knife. “Y/N! NO, no, no! Oh my god, I’m so sorry I took so long. I’m so sorry!”

Your vision was going blurry, you weren’t sure how much longer you had, but you wanted to stay at least to see Namjoon. You needed to know he was okay. You let go of the handle and winced, but you reached out for his hand and brought it to your cheek. You nuzzled against it. You smiled against all the pain, you could do that at least. You watched Namjoon’s panicked face turn blotchy and fade out meshing with the grey background. Your body slacked, head lulling to the side your eyes fell succumbing to the drowsiness.

Namjoon grabbed at your face screaming loud enough to shake the pits, “Y/N!” He tried shaking you awake, but your body swung limply about. He felt for a pulse in your neck with his fingers, but there wasn’t a response. He brought you into his chest caressing your head to his chest rocking back and forth.

It was midnight, and the debt had been paid, but there was always a price.

A green glow filtered in through the dense fog overcoming the four of you. Namjoon lifted his hanging head as a delicate hand pushed his hair back. He wiped his head up, tears dripping down his face.

Satera’s gentle smile greeted him, “Let me see her Reaper.”

He held you tighter to his chest, “Please, don’t—don’t take her.”

She continued to smile and crouched down in front of the both of you. Her grand white dress billowing about her. She reached out and grabbed onto the handle of the knife, “I cannot give her life back, but I can give her something more.”

Namjoon looked up surprised, “What?”

“She is a Duximina. Her fate changed when she died in your uniform. Do you not remember your soul is within it Reaper? Your thread changed her fate.”

He watched as the black knife burned in her hands as she ripped it out of your chest. Your chest levitated up with the tugging and fell back into his chest. Satera cupped her hands muttering under her breathe and her hands began to glow green. She carefully opened them revealing a glowing green ball. Satera kissed it then placed it in your chest. The energy melted into your chest, the injury sealing itself, there was a silent pause. Namjoon stared at your face watching in amazement as the purple around your eyes began to fade and color began to seep back in. You suddenly opened your eyes, nearly bugging out form your skull as your back arched as you deeply inhaled. Namjoon quickly sat you up as you began coughing up the remaining blood that was left in your throat. You inspected your hands, “Wha—how?”

Namjoon brought you into his chest smothering you, “You’re alive, you’re alive.”

Satera tsked, “You’re alive my dear, but not quite.”

You turned towards the mythical being, recognizing her from the multitude of text, “S-Satera?”

She smiled happy you knew of her, “Welcome to the world Duximina,” gently taking your hand, “fulfill your destiny.”

She stood up and walked over to Kaya, “I’m so sorry dear. You’ve done well, now you may watch over them from some place else.” She looked towards Mallory, who was still unconscious then back to Kaya, “He will be well protected, don’t you worry.” She placed her hand over Kaya’s forehead and the both of them disappeared into shimmering dust.

Tears streamed down your faces, as you watched them disappear. Namjoon checked on you, “You’re alive.” That was all he could get out.

You smiled back at him, cupping his stained cheek, “We did it?”

He nodded, stray tears making their way down his face. He slowly raised up, helping you stand as well, “Stay there, don’t move.”

He walked over to Mallory and scooped the boy into his arms and went back to you wrapping your hand in his, “Let’s go home.”

The three of you vanished in a cloud of black smoke.

Your pumps clicked on the wooden flooring. It echoed throughout the empty café. You spotted the booth and you gracefully scooted in. You adjusted his blazer and crossed your legs under the table haughtily, then tossed your arm behind the seat. You looked Namjoon dead in the eyes with a brow raised, “I’ve come to collect.”

He chuckled and copied your gesture tauntingly, “Witch Reaper.”

You both laughed and he leaned over the table and took your chin bringing your lips to his, “Collected.”

You leaned right and did the same to the boy swinging his feet under the booth, too distracted with his collaring page leaving a kiss on his forehead. “ Missed you Mallory.” He grunted in acknowledgement, but you knew that was a lot from the kid.

You felt your chest tingling where your medal was, another call was coming in. You groaned, “I just got here.”

He laughed, but it was cut short when he felt the same sensation, “Guess I gotta go too.”

He reached across the table and kissed you again, “We’re still on for dinner and Family Feud later?”

You lifted your brow, “Always.”

Namjoon picked up Mallory moving him onto his lap, “ We gotta go Kiddo.” In the next second the three of you vanished in your own clouds of black smoke, a half-colored page with discarded broken crayons and the white steam from the abandoned coffee still swirled.

Collected.

Copyright 2018 © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: Comfortable Positions (baon, Sleeping Patterns)

Summary: Edge has sleep issues. Stretch is one of them. 

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Fluff, Teasing, Little Citrusy

Note: I almost forgot to put this here! I’m craving a series of drabbles with a theme about sleeping, so if you have an idea or a headcanon, add it here! I can’t promise I’ll write it, but I’d love to see the ideas!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it Here!

~~*~~

It was later than he'd meant when Edge finally shut down his laptop.

He groaned as he stood, joints popping as he stretched and a glance at the clock made him wince. Stretch had gone to bed hours ago, a perfectly common occurrence. Usually Edge would join him for a bit, allowing his love to choose which spoon he wanted to play that night or perhaps taking the time to worship the lovely bones that Stretch never hid beneath pajamas.

But often Edge would get up again after Stretch fell asleep, leaving him to slumber for a few hours on his own while he did a few chores or worked. Much as he loved holding his husband in his arms, he simply didn't need as much sleep as Stretch did and even after a rousing bout of sex, once the afterglow wore off he usually rose afterward to shower and do something else, leaving Stretch behind in sated, sleeping collapse.

Tonight was later than he usually went back to bed and he still wasn’t exactly tired yet. His restlessness was unfocused, but his urge to be near Stretch was not.

The choice was not a difficult one. A quick double check of the door locks and he was on his way back upstairs.

Earlier, he’d left Stretch sound asleep, curled up with traces of sweat still damp on his bones. In the time Edge was gone, Stretch managed to get tangled in the blankets in such a way that his head was almost covered but an entire leg was bare, nearly dangling from the mattress.

Edge only shook his head. With the ease of long-time experience, he straightened the covers, carefully tugging them free and settling them back over the mattress. Next came coaxing Stretch into letting go of his pillow. Depending on the night, he often found Stretch with not only his own ridiculous amount of pillows but a stolen one of Edge’s as well, curled around it and his chin buried in as much as the firm cushion allowed.

As expected, Stretch barely stirred. He was as accustomed to this nightly ritual as Edge was.

Once the the blankets were straight, Edge hesitated, considering. Despite the air conditioning, the upstairs room was still a little warm. Edge stripped off his pajamas, sliding into the bed as bare as Stretch always slept with the exception of his gloves. The moment he did, Stretch moved to curl up against him, snuggling in tight against his side.

The feel of his cooler bones made Edge sigh appreciatively. He pressed a light kiss on top of Stretch’s skull, breathing in his scent. Stretch showered before bed tonight and the slight taint of cigarettes that normally clung to him was absent. There was only the sweetness of his magic, coupled with Edge’s spicier one lingering on him. The mixture was viscerally satisfying, temptingly so. But he wouldn’t wake Stretch again, even if the chance of him declining was vanishingly unlikely. He did need his rest. Instead, Edge unlocked his phone one-handed. Past experience taught him that the light wouldn’t wake Stretch.

Now that he was settled in comfortably, perhaps he’d be able to focus. He loaded a digital novel rather than work as he tried to get his restless thoughts to settle.

Halfway through the third page, Stretch stirred, making a querulous sound. One of his hands began fumbling sleepily over Edge searchingly. Edge held still, more curious than anything as to what Stretch was seeking, his hand perhaps? He did like to tangle their fingers together.

Or maybe…

…ah.

Edge stifled a embarrassingly high sound as Stretch’s hand settled directly between his legs with a startlingly firm grip, slender fingers curling around his pubic symphysis and holding tight.

Well, that was unexpected.

Setting his phone aside, Edge started on the delicate operation of moving that hand. First with care, then a little harder in desperation. It didn't hurt, yet, but it was on the cusp of discomfort. Worse, his magic was taking an interest in the proceedings. Math was not Edge’s strength but even his subconscious could add that touch to that place and come away with a sum of sex.

Finally, Edge wriggled those clinging fingers loose and relocated them to a less...ah...sensitive location at his ribs. They curled against the bones amicably enough and Stretch sighed in his sleep.

Well, that hadn’t quite been the sort of relaxation Edge was been looking for. The exact opposite of it. His magic was tickling at his pelvis, his husband was curled even tighter against him and Edge was the very definition of wide awake. The absurdity of it all hit him at once and the bed shook as he tried to hold in laughter.

Next to him, Stretch stirred.

“babe?” Stretch slurred out. He blinked sleepily, pale eye lights unfocused.

“Go back to sleep,” Edge managed to choke out, still struggling to hold back his amusement.

Only Stretch’s gaze was sharpening and the warmth of Edge’s agitated magic beneath the blankets was unmistakable. “you sure? seems like you have a little lighting problem down there, and i’m a pretty handy electrician.”

“Little…!” Edge started indignantly. It broke off into a groan as Stretch’s hand slipped down back between his legs, more knowingly this time.

Edge sighed and relaxed back, letting those clever fingers work. It was, admittedly, a pleasant way to handle his restless insomnia.

Heh. Handle.

He kept the pun to himself. Better not to get Stretch going down that road, or they’d never get any sleep.

-finis-

[laughingpinecone]

Yuletide letter!

I am laughingpineapple on AO3 

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (doubly so if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, outsider POV, UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night

Any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, canon divergences, non-mundane AUs (space opera! high fantasy! new weird also), deep lore, unrequested characters popping up - please do go wild with the & combos!

Blanket crossover prompt with Untitled Goose Game: set that goose loose anywhere and ruin anyone’s day. Tariq and select Twin Peaks characters who are not Albert (Margaret, Laura...) may hope to tame and befriend the goose; anyone else better get wrecked. Capitalism may also get wrecked while Kentucky Route Zero characters popcorn.gif nearby

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, canon retellings, unrequested ships (I listed all the ships I like for each fandom. Outside of those, I’d prefer if other canon characters weren’t shipped, unless they’re like, canon engaged/married)

Dark Souls 1: Solaire of Astora

I’m only familiar with the first game! It’s probably relevant to mention that I think that linking the fire is kind of a dumbass move, Gwyn is a jerk, Kaathe has his own agenda and there’s no winning move in this world, or at least no obvious one. And amidst all this nonsense, Solaire just shines, pure of heart and dumb of ass like the best of ‘em. I love his kindness in this cruelest of worlds and I love the sad edge he’s got even earlier on when he admits to being seen as weird.

I would enjoy a bittersweet ending for him but I realize both of his endings are deeply entrenched in his themes so it’s hard to make him steer clear of either of those. If you can figure out how to make him not link the Flame or survive the ordeal, I’m all ears! I like a sense of purpose being the thing that can stave off hollowing, and I like characters helping other characters finding that sense of purpose within themselves. Focus on scenery always welcome, and if you want to make up a location, that’s great too!

I’d be super happy with a story set during Solaire’s time in Lordran that simply doesn’t mention his endings, anyway. Maybe he’s the one who helps someone else while his own tragedy keeps looming on the horizon. Striking up friendships in the face of a crapsack world! Meeting people through Lordran’s temporal/dimensional fuckery, where it’s possible to cross the path of warriors who have been gone for ages… could Solaire meet either or both Catarina knights (there’s so much great art about sun bro and onion bro but where’s the fic?), or do the grumpy grump&ray of sunshine routine with Logan, or meet Artorias or even Gwyn before he linked the Flame - or himself? What if he met Kaathe?

Ships: none really? Solaire/Chosen Undead but I don’t really like to read about customizable protagonists in fic so I’d rather not get fic featuring the CU. I’m all about the & character combos here.

Ghost Trick: Cabanela, Jowd

I love Cabanela being fierce and dazzling bright and determined and loyal to the very end, dancing to his own rhythm, so sure of himself and of his ideas that he doesn’t even need to prove to anyone that he’s right. Too sure of the wrong idea, once, and everything crashed and burned. And I love Jowd being the immovable object to Cabanela’s unstoppable force, a suicidal trainwreck of guilt with the gallows humor to show for it, and also incredibly smart (both jerks figured out Sissel’s powers better than Sissel did, that’s... something) and athletic and with an unsuspected talent for stealth.

I am very interested in various characters finding about the erased timeline, but not getting their memories back, and having to live with being told about what they did but never remembering it. Touch-starved Jowd in the new timeline is a surefire hit (or maybe Cabanela if he’s the one who came back and kept the memories of the old timeline). Touchy-feely Cabanela as kind of his baseline with the people he likes.  All what-ifs welcome:what if they managed an acceptable happy ending but didn’t reset the timeline, what if Alma’s ghost stuck around… I’m also wondering about either of them ending up undead via Temsik shard - how would they take these developments (I’m assuming better than Yomiel did but the bar is admittedly low), did Cabanela do it on purpose for whatever sensible-if-you-are-Cabanela reason, what does it change in their relationship, what are the practical pros and cons of the situation here. UFO adventures with Pigeon Man! Lynne teaming up with either of them against the other! Sissel death-averting action if either/both of them die or just regular cat action! Spy stuff! Daring rescues! My forever prompt of Jowd being the one who gets a chance to prove his loyalty to Cabanela for once. Dancing.

Please no Yomiel. Nothing against the guy I’m just getting an overdose of him through RPing.

Ships: Alma/Cabanela/Jowd and all sides thereof, but when it splits the canon couple I only like it when the missing spouse is dead or otherwise unavailable, hopefully with a reset on the horizon. If you want to go for a Cabanela&Alma or Cabanela/Alma who are strongly motivated by a dead or jailed Jowd, I’m good with him not actively appearing in the fic. Alma/Jowd & Cabanela is excellent in all scenarios. I’m good with explicitly non-romantic takes on Jowd&Cabs but please keep their bond strong, and please no conflicting ship for Cabanela. Lynne/Memry!

Kentucky Route Zero: Any (Lula Chamberlain, Joseph Wheattree, Donald kentuckyroutezero, Weaver Màrquez)

(if enough of us request it, will some Murphy corollary guarantee that Act V will come out between now and reveals just to mess with the Yuletide schedule? If it does, I’ll be playing it immediately and probably add a few thoughts and prompts here for kicks, at the end of this section, after a spoiler warning. Obviously feel free to stick to canon up to Un Pueblo De Nada)

I’m all for exploration of any of the game’s themes and for including any staples from adjacent genres - wanna go full-on American Gothic? Dip into surrealism? Take a leaf from Twin Peaks with tulpa / split narratives to explore the characters’ issues? I can’t think of any specific AUs for the disaster trio + disaster soloist here, but I generally love AUs so if you want to sidestep the inconvenience of an incomplete canon that way, be my guest! Or of course there’s Xanadu at the height of its glory, an infinite what-ifs generator. Was Weaver ever part of it, what was this digital Weaver up to? A Xanadu narrative would be great! A good fit for IF, too? I’d love to hear about any new spot along the Zero or the Echo river, or an expansion of some place that’s only mentioned by Will in HATATE or only gets a few paragraphs of text. Lula getting ideas for a new installation, or an article talking about her work? Donald listening to Static between stations somehow (Donald being constantly high as a kite as per this)? Joseph who went back to the surface finds himself near an entrance to the Zero somewhere? A collection of Weaver-isms? Feel free to bring in anyone else from any part of canon.

Ships: “Flipping through the pages, Conway is able to gather that it's a story about three characters: Joseph, Donald, and Lula. It's something like a tragic love triangle, but much more complex. Some kind of tangled, painfully concave love polygon.” 😬 that one, as a full triad, regrettably since they don’t seem too inclined to get reunited and stay that way. If you can nudge them, good. But I’m very open to non-romantic resolutions as well, going past their messy feelings to find each other as friends after so many years maybe. For Weaver, I’m interested in all her & relationships (seriously. Weaver & Cate. Weaver & EmilyBen&Bob. Weaver & Slow Moe Crow.) but nothing shippy. Conway/Lysette, Junebug/Johnny(/Shannon?).

The Last Remnant: David Nassau, Pagus

I’m very interested in post-game exploration, and getting a clearer feeling of any of the cities and assorted places that populate this fascinating world. I like the whole party with their characterization based on battle quotes, red bubble dialogues, and even their unique stat (‘authority’ is a natural fit for David but ‘romance’ tells me something new about Sibal!) Character interaction. Bit of worldbuilding. What’s another festival they celebrate? Do they erect something else instead of the Valeria Heart? Any fun discoveries down in Siebenbur? Where the hell IS Veyriel, anyway, do they go look for it and if so what do they find out? End of an age. Old bonds.

I ache for David who fought so valiantly as a warrior and as a politician only to be slapped in the face with the unexpected loss Emma first and then Rush, right as they were ready to claim their victory and as he would have to start coming to terms with the idea that maybe without the Gae Bolg he wouldn’t die young. At least his Generals are still with him - out of them, all of whom I adore, I picked Pagus because Qsiti are cool. And Pagus in particular is the coolest (”I know that fine qsiti... That large, reticent mouth, the laugh lines around the eyes...“ he’s FINE it’s CANON!). So I’d like to see how David bounces off Pagus in particular, what their bond is like, what he thinks of whatever aspect of Qsiti culture.

Ships: postcanon David/Rush, possibly with an emphasis on Rush’s nature as a remnant? I am also fond of Pagus/Sibal/Maddox, there are more prompts for them in my #letters tag!

Pyre: Volfred Sandalwood, Tariq The Lone Minstrel

Oh the burning found family feelings, the revolutionary passion, the tension between topside social constraints (moreso for liberated exiles, thrust into heroic roles after the revolution) and the kind of freedom allowed by the Downside! I love all the themes, the solemnity, the heart of this game. I’ve been waiting for a character like Tariq all my life, a minstrel who’s otherworldly soft and just a lil bit eldritch. Volfred as well, he just hits my perfect ratio of “noble intentions” to “scheming to a fault”. Like, the percentages in his planner are pointless for gameplay since the ending just depends on the number of Nightwings sent topside at the end - so it’s just there for his characterization, he’s the sort of person who assigns percentages to people, nbd. ...for a good cause! That said, I would die for anyone in that Blackwagon+Dalbert+Celeste, so if you want to write in someone else as well, please do! (otoh if you maybe want to dunk on Brighton or Manley, I don’t like bashing but canon levels of love-to-hate-them would be fun)

Thoughts about finding oneself at the end of an age, as everything crumbles down to form something new. The titan stars. History nerd Volfred, “aye sir, I was there” Tariq. Conversations with Dalbert. Or with Sandra? Any postcanon very welcome with any combination of endings as long as the revolution was peaceful. Please do lean into the xeno headcanons if you enjoy them! Even for gen, I like to read what it’s like to be something other than human and these two are very much not human in different and intriguing ways. Or, Volfred’s zodiac sign is Cancer and Cancer is ruled by the Moon, so there’s that. I also love how they both hold the other in the highest esteem, especially on Tariq’s part since he’s the immortal Herald of the Scribes and Volfred is, all in all, a history teacher, but listen to him and you’d think the roles were inverted. I love my nonviolent canon but could anything happen to either of them that may require a rescue, and/or some good old-fashioned h/c? What’s something that could make Tariq of all people lose it? How’s life 100 years on?

For a funnier mood, picture Volfred trying to figure out how to flirt with Tariq with percentages, planners and all. He could just ask him but no, it’s convoluted plan or bust. Or, conversely, Tariq’s increasingly direct hints that he’s interested, but they’re still ‘increasingly direct’ for Tariq standards, so, not at all, undetectable even by Volfred who can get pretty damningly indirect himself.

Ships: Volfred/Tariq, Volfred/Oralech, some form of Oralech/Volfred/Tariq (more of a Volfred-centric V but I would like to be convinced of the Oralech/Tariq side of things), Celeste/Jodariel, Hedwyn/Fikani and Pamitha/Bertrude.

Twin Peaks: Albert Rosenfield

Case fic but they don’t find out jack shit, someone disappears, David Bowie was there, it’s complicated. Fragmented, shifted, mirrored identities. New Lodge spaces. The risks of staring into the void for too long. Gentle illusions. Transcendence. The moon. Static buzzing. Any title from the s3 ethereal whooshing compilation used as a prompt, actually. Twin Peaks is all about the mystery to me, the awe of mystery and unknowability and the human drive to look beyond and the risks of getting a peek, and about shared consciousness and trauma taking physical form and about the warmth of human connections in an uncaring world. Go wild with the ethereal whooshing!

I love Albert and he breaks my heart, a pacifist who ends his arc shooting his oldest remaining friend after life sucked all the passion and most of the idealism out of him. Is shooting Diane just to see Cooper come back, get her back and disappear with her again trauma enough to make him split? I’d be interested in reading about it, or any other take on his unwavering loyalty to Gordon which should maybe waver after Gordon’s admission that he’s lied to him for 25 years and the aforementioned unmitigated disaster of an ending. But I’m also very interested in his life apart from the disaster that is Blue Rose and his heartbreaking search for Cooper: did he keep in touch with Harry throughout the years, what did they talk about? Was he ever dragged along for a hike in the woods and did something weird happen there? We know he kept in touch with Diane, what did THEY talk about? Does he go on a journey of his own to find her after the ending? Does Tammy come along, do they see each other as friends other than mentor and protégé? What was Phil like as a co-boss back in the day? Did he get a small victory over Windom at some point (maybe even in the present day, given Kenneth Welsh’s recent wonderful interview where he’s adamant that Windom lives)? Does Laura ever visit him in some ghostly manner? He and Denise look like a great duo for a case and/or office shenanigans. We know from TFD that he’s a big jazz enthusiast, something about that? When does he cave in and just accept some aspects of Coop’s investigative method? Just set him loose on another unsuspecting character and I’ll be happy.

If Coop comes back (and I’d love for Coop to come back), I would like it if he came back on his own thanks to having sorted out his crap. After s3, I am not interested in stories about any other character saving Cooper. Albert’s got his wounds to lick dangit. And he’s got friends who can be by his side! ...I do love his dynamic with Coop so much, though. Sigh. I do miss that bastard. Anyway.

Ships: Albert/Coop/Harry and sides thereof, Tammy/Cynthia, Gordon/Phil, Diane/Constance, Lucy/Andy, Chet/Sam.

Canon-specific DNWs: any singular Dreamer being the ‘source’ of canon, BOB (let alone Judy) being forever defeated in the finale, Judy being an active malevolent presence in the characters’ lives, clear explanations for canonical ambiguities, ‘Odessaverse’ being the reality layer, the Fireman’s House by the Sea being the White Lodge, anything that 4 hours video says is the explanation of Twin Peaks

[mysticsparklewings]

Terrarium Nova

Would you guys believe this started out as me trying to practice trees & use up some leftover paints sitting in/on my palettes from other projects?   The tree practicing is for a different project I'll be doing later, and I'll share the specifics of then   But yeah, I have a good amount of leftover watercolor dried onto a couple of cheap palettes, as well as some acrylics paints in a palette meant to keep them fresh (but unless you monitor it and spritz them with water every couple of days, they will still eventually dry up) and I really hate to waste any of it if I can help it, especially when it's my slightly nicer stuff. (Some of it was, some of it wasn't) So I figured I'd try to kill two birds with one stone, and the end result ended up looking pretty cool, although I do still have some more paint that didn't get used here, so this may not be the last random-ish painting you see from me. Oh, and I was also recycling a little bit since I used the back of a giant piece of watercolor paper I had previously used as a protective mat for my desk. I started with the tree shapes, mostly inspired by Bonsai trunks, and that actually did use up pretty much all of the dark brownish paint I was using, so I was off to a strong start. Then I went in with some metallic watercolor that was leftover from my Butterfly Babe piece, which dried with more of the black and silver I had mixed into it on top for reason unbeknownst to me, so the first little hill/mound I made naturally came out darker and more silvery than the additional hills I added later than came out decidedly more gold. I think after that I added in the orange sun/planet (in my head it's the sun but a lot of the details here are very ambiguous in what they could potentially be) and an accompanying orange horizon line. Originally, I thought I was going to be making a very sunset-ish background with possibly a very red sky and mixing the yellows in more, but that obviously didn't end up happening. I was kinda just going with what I felt like and where the paint wanted to take me. So I ended up going in with the yellows (and later red and magenta) leftover from my $50 vs $4 Watercolors piece (these ones being the $50 ones, the $4 ones were put on a separate palette while I was using them so I wouldn't get the two mixed up) and ended up making many yellow hills to fill out the background some more, though admittedly the ones on the left kinda got away from me a little. And I'll pause here to say that I was using water brushes throughout this entire piece as opposed to actual paintbrushes, and every time I use those (at least when I'm getting proper water flow) I find that I tend to have a somewhat easier time getting certain watercolor effects, mostly when it comes to blending out hard edges. It's funny to me, as a lot of artists would say water brushes have a higher learning curve than regular brushes, and I'm sure some have a harder time with them. I think the main reason I have an easier time might be because back at the beginning of the year when I started re-discovering watercolor, the first set of paints that got (the Viviva watercolor sheets, for anyone who's curious) came with a water brush, and at the time I had never used one and was really excited to try it, as well as I just didn't have a ton of brushes at my disposal. Likewise, I spent a lot of my time learning watercolors on a water brush, whereas, naturally, most artists learn primarily on regular brushes. To be fair, I would like to one day invest in a slightly nicer set than the cheaper set of different size water brushes that I currently have, as these don't always flow correctly and at least one has a very slow leak where the top screws on, which hasn't caused any painting problems but is just kind of annoying because it very slowly gets my hand wet while I'm using it. Anyway. I then decided I hadn't used enough of that metallic paint and went in and added some dots of various sizes in the sky, since I didn't really feel like trying to make proper stars of any kind, but I wanted more up there and that seemed like a good place for more metallic paint. After that, the plan was to start on my red sky, but I started putting the red down and realized I hadn't cleaned my brush very good, so I got this interesting shimmery darker red color, and since I had already messed up, I liked the color enough I decided to make a moon out of it, which is why that red pot is hanging out over on the left side there. Why this "moon" and the "sun" are out at the same time, I couldn't tell you. Sometimes things just happen in art. That led me to the decision that instead of covering the whole sky in a color, I would just add some clouds, and I decided to got with the expensive magenta on my palette. Things were going fine until I grabbed more paint than water (as I was hoping for kind of pale/blended out soft clouds) and I ended up with some pretty nasty unblended lines one of the clouds and it was notably darker at the top than the others. And so I introduced the technique of "this one cloud got messed up so the rest of you have to suffer!"  And I also kind of had to be okay with none of the blending and layering on them turning out super smooth or nice for consistency's sake. And you know, it's not fine art or anything, but it doesn't look as terrible as I thought it was going to. (Though that could really be said for this entire piece. ) I also ended up adding in the purple-y mountains in the foreground after feeling bad that I'd neglected some of the paints I'd originally been intended to use the most, and I think in the end it adds a nice contrast and kind of ties the magenta clouds into the piece as a whole more. I knew I still wanted to do leaves on my trees, which were still just bare trunks and branches by this point, but I wasn't sure what I wanted to do for them yet, so I did this kind of dome thing for the sky, after acknowledge I did not want to have to try and get a smooth, consistent blue wash around everything else I'd already painted in. (Yes, I once again forgot the principal rule of painting--put the background in first) While that dried, I took a break to ponder my next move. I hadn't used any of the acrylic paints that I had leftover (more than I originally would've had too, as I ended up making a sign for my mom that I haven't decided yet if I want to post or not) and one of the colors was green, which is a very basic choice for leaves, but I already had so many other strange colors going on that the basic blue sky and some simple green leaves didn't seem like asking too much. So then I just had to decide what the leaves were going to look like. In the end, I went with using the back end of a paintbrush to dot on some of the green and some of this pale, yellowy color, and a little of a mixture I made using those two colors together (originally for the sign, not this), and I tried to place the dots in mostly realistic places for leaves. And admittedly I could've done a lot more leaves and really filled out the trees, but I felt like it looked better with more of the trunk and branches showing. I also went with the dot thing partially to carry over the dots in the sky. I'm not really sure what kind of theme that is, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And then last but not least, I signed it with a purple gelly roll, trying to balance in both color and placement just a wee bit. Funnily enough, the most tedious part of this process was actually what came after it was finished. Because I was working on a giant piece of watercolor paper that was previously a mat for my desk, and I wasn't really sure how this was going to turn out, naturally I wasn't really thinking about what size I was painting at while I was working. And wouldn't you know it, my poor painting here ended up being too long to fit in my scanner all at once.  So I had to cut it out of the giant piece of paper and then scan it twice; once to get one end, and then a second time to get the other end. Then, of course, the two pieces had to be stitched together in Photoshop, which wasn't too bad. I then spent more minutes than I care to admit trying to figure out how/to what extent the best way was to single out the little oval-ish shape of the painting, as I thought that would be much nicer than leaving the ugly bits an pieces of white scanner background. I tried to keep the actual edges smooth, though I nixed the idea of having it be a perfect oval shape right from the get-go, mostly because of how much of the edges would get cut off in one area or another. So the shape itself is very imperfect. Still, I think in the end everything turned out pretty nice. And admittedly after how the later part of last week went for me, it felt really nice to just kind of go in and not really worry about the details or if everything was turning out exactly right or whatever. Sometimes you need to do something that's just loose and has very few rules to it like this. Personally, I think I really needed this at this time in particular, and for as unplanned and simple as it is, I'm really happy with how it turned out. The title is a little random; the shape and what I did with the sky kinda reminded me of a terrarium, and much like a nova is the birth of a star, this was a pretty spontaneous birth of a...planet, I guess.  I almost called it "Terra Nova" (roughly "earth star birth") but upon Googling that because it sounded familiar, I decided I did not want to name it after a movie that came out in 2011 that I know nothing about and have no affiliation with. Anyway, things might be a little slower on the art front this week, as I have a bit of a tall order to-do list, but for the foreseeable future things are going to be somewhat interesting here; I finally ordered a gouache set I've had my eye on, and it should be here by the end of the week, as well as the tree thing I mentioned at the top of the description, and another project I've done some preliminary work for...Jeez, I have an awful lot to try to squeeze in before Inktober starts, don't I?   Perhaps I'd best go and get started on all that. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram