#and countless people have told me that rabbit tastes really good.

[riverside-lavender]

guys my bunny is so cute i might start crying over her. again.

[cherryatiny]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

GIFs are not mine, credit goes to their respective owner

❁ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

It was no secret that your sugar daddy Hongjoong is a born aristocrat, as his rich taste in everything showed up a lot. Ever since a young age, he was taught to love art in all its forms. When his grandparents passed away sadly, he was the chosen one to inherit the prestigious art gallery their family ran for more than 7 decades.

Although he wasn't an artist of the top level, his love to express himself through art never died. So the very first day he took over the gallery, the first thing he ordered his subordinates to do, was to clear out the smaller room in the back of the director's office.

Soon after, he designed the space to an art studio of his liking, where he could freely spend his free time painting, reconstructing clothes, or just rest while stimulating his brain to function more creatively.

Soon after he met you and you two got into the sugar daddy relationship, he found his muse in you. At first, it started by him just taking pics of you at the moments he deemed to be artsy, not long after that he however started calling you to his little studio in the gallery he ran. Always making you sit or lay down on the old valuable settee, that looked like the ones from Renaissance paintings.

Taking you by your hand, he showed you the paintings of the new exhibition he was preparing. The paintings harmonized well, all of them tuned in a dark abstract setting. Loosening your hand out of his grip, you grasped his wrist the same he did with your often, dragging him to the office. He was slightly taken by surprise as he did not expect you to drag him there since you haven't agreed on him painting you today. „Lay down, for today, you'll be my muse Joongie.“

He was laying on the settee, looking up at the ceiling, so his side-profile was fully visible to you, as you painted him on the canvas. Mixing colours to your liking, you made the portrait of your Hongjoong look abstract, as it matched the art style he often used.

After hours of painting, when you did the last line with your paintbrush, you sighed out tiredly, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you observed your creation. „My muse, you can come here and admire yourself on the canvas.“ Standing up swiftly, he came over to you, leaning forward, his arm wrapping around the shoulder of your sitting self as he was all eyes on the painting.

„It's... spectacular. I- I'm at a loss of words, why did you never tell me you had a talent for painting my darling? If I added this painting to the exhibition there, I can guarantee you, that this will be the most favoured painting in my gallery.“

❁ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

You don't even know why you applied to become Seonghwa's secretary a few months ago, considering you've never worked in this type of branch. But it was probably the best decision of your life because if you wouldn't have applied for the secretary position, you wouldn't have met your sugar daddy Seonghwa.

At first, the work was a disaster as your relationship with your boss didn't start off very well. He was giving you tons of work to do, the stupidest arrangements that were completely unnecessary to make, or the most boring workshops and meetings to take you to with him.

But after the one night at a business conference in Milan when you two got closer than one would expect you to and got into the sugar daddy relationship, his attitude to you drastically changed.

Your secret relationship also made him give you easier and different tasks to do, he as well deemed you to be more reliable than before, which resulted in him giving you free hand in literally everything. He was actually taken aback by how competent you were at your tasks. Doing everything you were told to do, ten times better than he would have probably done.

One night, as you two were cuddling on the couch in his place while looking out of the large glass wall with the sighting of the whole town, he spoke out, „Y/N why didn't you tell me you had such talent for scheduling, strategic planning and business stuff? I should have made you the director of strategic planning or something like that. But then... I get to be closer to you when you're my secretary, my beautiful baby.“

❁ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

„Ah, shit! The actress who was supposed to play the walk-on in the hospital scene with Yunho, can't get here as something happened to her. What do we do now?“ yelled the director out of frustration as the actress announced she can't arrive just a few minutes before they were supposed to shoot.

You were just finishing your sugar daddy Yunho's outfit for the shoot as you were the main costumer for this k-drama. Yunho stood up from his seat as you finished his stylist, bending down to plant a kiss on your lips, before going over to the director with a worried look on his usually joyful face.

You were clearing off the stuff you used on him back to where it belonged to. Eyeing Yunho talk with the director from distance, the two of them occasionally flashing looks at you. When they stopped talking, Yunho jogged to you with the beaming smile you knew that well on his face. His puppy-like features always flashed out when he had any good news, giving him the look that was asking him what he wanted to say.

„Get changed. You've got the role of the girl who's missing.“ you raised your eyebrows at what he just said, taken aback as you did not really understand what he was talking about. You and acting? „Come on, get dressed, we don't have much time. Here's the script.“ handing you the bunch of papers and the outfit the girl was supposed to wear, he motioned for you to go to the changing room.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead as you went away from the shooting site. „Wow, ms. Y/N, are you sure you didn't study acting? Although it was supposedly your first time acting, it was so natural. Wow, I'm glad Yunho showed you to me, you are for real like a hidden gem. Would you... maybe be interested in any more acting in future?“ asked the director with a glance of hope in his eyes after you finished shooting the small part in the k-drama your sugar daddy was starred in. Looking at him, wondering what Yunho's opinion was, the proud and encouraging smile on his face hinting that he really wanted you to accept the offer made by his boss.

„I'm so proud of you princess. My little talented actress, I love you.“

❁ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

Groaning softly, you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, looking at the empty spot beside you. You were sleeping at Yeosang's home, but as you could see, he didn't seem to be sleeping. Slipping your feet into the fluffy slippers with rabbit eyes, you wrapped your body tighter in Yeosang's shirt you were sleeping in, as the air was rather cool.

Opening the door of his bedroom, you went down the stairs of his apartment, down to the living room where a small table lamp was lit. Your sleepy sugar daddy sitting by the desk covered in many papers that seemed to be related to his prosecutor work.

Approaching him, you caressed his shoulder, which woke him up from his quick nap, „Mhm, Y/N. You can go back to sleep, I'll be there soon, I just have to finish this.“ You knew well that that wasn't the case and he won't be there soon. Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck, sitting down on his lap, his hand caressing your exposed thighs. „What are you working on, Yeo?“

„I'm treading through the case files, but I just can't take the next step. The police want me to indict him of murder, but the defendant is justifying himself saying that it was an accident and that he should be only indicted of manslaughter.“ Taking the case files from his hand, you read through them since your unbiased opinion might be of help to him.

Taking a pen from his desk, you underlined the facts you thought were important in your lay opinion. Handing it to him, he read focused on the underlined sentences, his eyes lighting up in hope. „Oh my god, Y/N. You're the saviour of my life, this is the core issue but it hasn't even struck up to me. I love you so much, my little prosecutor.“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

„Sannie, could you please tie my swimsuit?“ you held your hair in a ponytail so it did not get into the way as San tied the ribbon on the back of your swimsuit. You smiled at him as a way to say thank you, leaving the hotel suite your sugar daddy San reserved for you two to enjoy your vacation to the fullest.

San took your hand in his, your fingers intertwining as you walked down the hotel's luxurious corridors to the private beach. „Now, what does my beautiful baby plan on doing today?“ questioned san as he pulled you to him as close as possible. „Hm, I don't know, I'll probably do nothing all day long, just lay on the beach and sunbathe.“

„Then I'll keep you company while you do your nothing.“ giggles were leaving you two as you talked more while on the way to the sea. But as you started nearing the beach, loud dance music coming from the speakers. „What's that...?“ As you got to the beach, a group of people was doing dance work-outs there to the rhythm of the music.

„I have no idea what they are doing, but let's try Y/N“ and without giving you a chance to protest, San tugged you there by your wrist, right to the centre of the imaginary dance floor. He started dancing just as the instructor did, gesturing you to do the same.

Soon after you submitted to his nagging, doing the same as him to the rhythm of the energetic music. „Y/N, you're doing so well. Would I have known about your talent to dance, I would have taken you to some studio a long ago.“

❁ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

After that one ball, you two met together at, you got invited to countless more balls to keep your boss company. Over that many times you two spent together, you get to know each other more and more until eventually, he somehow became your sugar daddy and boyfriend in one.

Tonight was very special, Mingi as the chairman of one of the biggest conglomerates in the country, got invited to the ball held by the president for the most influential people in the country. And when he stopped by your apartment with a beautiful night-robe, a pair of brand-new heels and a golden envelope with the letter of invitation in it, you almost fainted from the delight you felt.

Sometimes he couldn’t help but watch you like a movie on nights like this. Because you seemed so interested in these events, that it truly amazed him how you could act so interested in the talk of the attendants when it bore him to death. You just seemed so natural at attending events like this, you could dance, you knew all the protocol rules, you could pretend interest or know how to answer to the business talk others often held with you. He just couldn’t help but admire the talent you had for the formal events.

Excusing you from their speech, Mingi wrapped his arms around your waist, taking you to the middle of the dance floor as your favourite dance song was playing. Moving slowly, you melted into his touch as you enjoyed each other’s presence dancing the slow dances. „I'm amazed my dear Y/N, I can't bring myself to be interested in talking to these egoistic geezers for more than 5 minutes. Thank god I have you, my talented princess.“

❁ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

When you spent the night at your sugar daddy Wooyoung’s place, you usually weren’t allowed to even be near the kitchen as he insisted “he treats his princess food and she shouldn’t cook, because what if she cuts herself?” so today, as he had to rush to the work early in the morning because of some urgent, leaving you in his immense mansion alone.

And that meant you had a free pass to cook something in his kitchen. But seeing how emptied his fridge was, you opted for something more simple in a form of stir-fried tofu with vegetables. Washing the fresh vegetables thoroughly, you dried them, placing them on the breadboard, to cut them. All of his knives were sharp as Wooyoung was doing his best to keep his kitchen in the best state.

Throwing the tofu cubes onto the pan with a heated droplet of olive oil, you stirred them until they roasted into golden colour, adding the cut vegetables and cooking rice in the meanwhile. Not at all realizing that there was a pair of eyes watching you from the doorframe.

Leaving you like that, Wooyoung in the meanwhile went to change into some sweatpants and a t-shirt, maybe a quick shower. And so when he came back, you were already turning off the stove. „Well, well, well, what do I see? Looks like someone used my kitchen behind my back.“

You jumped in your place lightly, your breathing heavy at how startled you were upon Wooyoung talking to you out of nowhere. „Jung Wooyoung, for how long have you been there?“ he put on a grimace, pretending to be pondering over it. „Probably ever since you added the veggies to eat and started singing to those annoying songs.“

„They’re not annoying, you’re just too old to understand them. Anyway, if you want to nag at me for using your kitchen, do it after you taste my delicious meal. Seems like you were in rush this morning, so you probably haven’t eaten anything“ Placing the plate in front of him, you sat opposite of him, waiting to see what his reaction would be as he had never tasted your cookings before.

„Mhmm, are you sure you’ve cooked it yourself? If so... why have I never let you in my kitchen, when this is so delicious? Gosh, my princess is such a good cook.“ Your smile was full of delight at his compliment as you watched him stuff his mouth full of your food.

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„Y/N, I’m going to the restroom, you’ll wait for me, right?“ you nodded, watching your sugar daddy Jongho leave the studio. Standing up, you sat down on the now-emptied armchair in front of the PC screens, your eyes scanning the colourful music segments on the screen.

You picked up the sheaf of papers with the notes to his newest song, along with the lyrics he’s written himself. Your eyes ran over the notes and the lyrics and as you were re-reading the text for the 3rd time, you started humming to it, trying to get the right melody Jongho was intending on having in the song.

Opening the door to the studio, Jongho noticed you sitting on the chair, your back turned to him and that resulted in you still being oblivious to his presence. And he didn’t dare to make a move, standing in the door-frame and watching you humming to the song in amazement that you weren’t tone-deaf like most non-musical people were, as you hit all the tones.

„Woah Y/N, are you a trained singer or something? Why didn’t you tell me you were good at music? I would have taken you here long time ago...“

❁ taglist : @galaxteez @gyubaby @bobateastay @tinytinyblogs @ateezinmymind @chososchaos @cvtiehoon @a-soft-hornytiny

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 33

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L   Warnings: Swearing, unhealthy defence mechanisms

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 33: Betray The Moon as Acolyte

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

September 8th, 1976

Remus peered up to the night sky, resplendent with a coruscating kaleidoscope of stars and the full moon. He yawned, acutely aware of his bones shifting, aching and cracking. Resting on a small cot pressed against the wall in the corner of the shrieking shack, Remus felt his temperature rise and skin stretch too thinly across his body.

“I’ll be back once the sun rises, dearie,” Madam Pomfrey called out, the door millimetres from locking shut.

“Wait,” he said and Madam Pomfrey re-opened the door with a warm, motherly smile.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For always helping, I know it can be… tiresome.”

How long has it been? That Pomfrey had been helping him out, every full moon — had known of his affliction and been there to assist? It was years now, countless hours of her time wasted on him.

Was he that much of a burden? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, that made his face pucker and heart lacerate itself in fresh wounds.

“Don’t concern yourself with me, honey.” Then the door clicked shut and he heard her utter a spell; to confine the beast within the four walls.

The tormenting plague increased every minute as the countdown to his transformation loomed. His heart thudded stridently and his breathing was ragged and strained. His teeth grinded against each other and his tongue swept across them, feeling them elongate and reshape in preparation.

Remus grabbed the hem of his jumper, exasperated by the overwhelming heat and because he didn’t want to shred it in the process. As he slipped out, feeling the adored red fabric, tattered with holes and frayed yarn in his hands, the door opened and he could already smell Peter and James. Subconsciously, he shielded his body from them, to avoid them from seeing all of his scars.

Remus became dizzy instantly. James wore a particularly strong perfume that day.

More than anything, over the pain and hint of repugnance, he was nervous. It would be the first full moon since… the prank that the Marauders would be together for his transformations. Or all the Marauders aside from one and nobody wanted to address it.

A sharp pain thundered through his skull and he knew time was slipping from him. Remus couldn’t recall the last time the moments before his transformation were that painful.

“You okay, Moons?” Wormtail asked, dropping down beside him. Prongs followed in suit, taking his sweater and folding it neatly.

“I’m fine — umph —”

“Shit! Prongs, get back and turn. Now!”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

After a week of lessons, there were considerable adjustments to the curriculum. Everyone noticed and it quickly dispersed a sombre milieu on all of Hogwarts.

Classes were smaller, many parents deciding to transfer their children to other magical schools around the world. Y/N even received a few worried letters from Matthew that there was an abundance of new British students attending Ilvermorny.

In his worried letters, Matthew informed her that the MACUSA and French Ministry of Magic had been stepping in, fighting forces against the wizarding war. It was all news to her. Ever since James’ parents cancelled their subscription to the Daily Prophet after their beliefs that they were biased, she hadn’t been able to catch up.

More defence and attack spells were taught and everyone became well aware of why someone of Professor Elway’s reputation and skill was there. The same went for the Duelling re-opening and even Flitwick initiated small tutorial sessions for students of all grades to teach them defensive spells.

Defence Against the Dark Arts became nothing more than a Muggle military camp. Elway drilled the students; attack and defence spell after the other, never stopping for a second. Transfigurations focused more on concealment and vanishing charm and every day McGonagall looked as if she aged a decade by the solemn, haunted look that nowadays was permanently carved into her.

Herbology went over a vast majority of life-saving plants, herbs and how to make their own medicine. And Potions heavily focused on identifying spiked potions with poisons and how to create reversal serums in case of emergencies.

The students of Hogwarts weren’t brainless. They knew they were training them for war.

She tried to ignore it, but if anything Y/N felt foolish. The magical world was meant to be an escape, not a guardhouse.

It didn’t help that the murders from the summer played heavily in her mind along with the rumours of Voldemort recruiting students from Hogwarts, prompting a spike of distrust to spread rampantly. It wasn’t time to fight or lose people but to keep those you trusted and loved close. So Lily keeping her distance had her worried.

Sorted into the same dorm as last year, she reckoned she would have some time with Lily but every day it seemed like she was busy with prefect duties, or had homework, or reading, or a new study group she needed to rush off to. She and Lily hadn’t resumed their usual nightly routines either, hadn’t sat with her in the Great Hall since the welcome back feast and hadn’t said more than a word to her.

It was evident that Lily was avoiding her and only her.

Maybe Y/N had gotten clingy, got too close too hastily because it felt too similar to how her mother treated her. It caused the imminent, spine-chilling feeling of wanting to push everyone away.

Extreme distress was starting to pile up.

Luckily, James stayed a constant consistency in her life and a lot of her pent-up fears dissipated by his presence. He never ignored her, if anything he went out of his way to be nearer. Even Peter and most notably, Remus, had become part of her daily life more than ever.

It was terrifying and everything told her to run. Don’t get too close, don’t get too comfortable. But it was hard not to.

That morning, James crept up to her dorm, knocking softly as she popped out, ready for the day. He looked exhausted; his eye bags were prominent, darkened and cradled in his arm, he held Remus’ rabbit.

“To keep him company,” James explained, yawning while escorting her down the staircase, passing the rabbit over. “It was a rough night.”

It would be the first time they would try to incorporate Y/N into replacing Black and balance out James’ other priorities with Remus’ moon cycles. And unable to reschedule Quidditch try-outs to another morning and James forced to leave prematurely, she would have to step in.

But her fears skyrocketed. Were they pushing it? She was only visiting him… It wasn’t out of pity and she genuinely wanted to be there to support Remus.

“What if he doesn’t want visitors?”

James rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. He’ll appreciate it more than he’ll let on.”

But then a faint floral and citrus smell flowed through the distilled air as she took a deep breath.

“James, you smell really good... Are you wearing perfume?”

His frown transformed into a prideful simper. “Bought the same perfume as my mum. Helps when I miss her.”

She gasped. “A mama’s boy!” And then pinched his cheek.

About to step out of the portrait, James must’ve accidentally activated a prank because the moment his hand brushed against the portrait, four Muggle stereos floated above his head, blasting break-up songs on the highest volume. It rattled the walls and made their ears bleed.

“Fucking hell!” James shouted, his wand swishing around to stop the music while Y/N stuffed Remus’ rabbit inside her bag and bewitched a silencing spell around it.

“Students are sleeping!” Lily shrieked, rushing down the stairs and charmed away the stereos.

“Oi! You think we don’t know?” James retorted, a hand clutching his ear. “Emmeline…”

“Emmeline?” Lily repeated, shaking her head. “May Merlin himself save the poor girl daft enough to end up with you.”

The only enlightened that took away from the war and recent murders was Emmeline and her friends pranking and wreaking havoc like the Marauders onto James as a punishment.

He deserved it and even James agreed.

“Where are you two headed?” Lily inquired and for the first time since the train ride, she addressed Y/N head-on.

A glimmer of hope.

“Aw, finally starting to care about me, Evans?” James joked although it’s laced with uncertainty.

Y/N cut off Lily before she had the chance to speak, eager to answer her question. “It’s Remus.”

Recognition filtered through her, gaze shooting up to the large grandfather clock beside the bookshelves. Lily’s head bobbed repeatedly, pressing her lips together sympathetically. She considered James for a moment.

“Will you be back in time for lessons?” Lily then whipped her hands around. “Y’know what, forget it. I’ll take notes for… both of you.”

Y/N felt James nudge her foot, simultaneously forcing out a cough. His hand went to scratch behind his neck. “R-right. Erm, I — we appreciate it, Evans, but ugh — we have a free period this morning.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Sorry.”

“NO!” James said a little too loud. “I mean, no. It’s fine. Thank you.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her neck bending as her shoulders tensed while watching their interaction play out. “Alrighty, we should go. Thank you, Petals.” She interjected. Her hands spun James around as they walked out of the common room and to the hospital wing.

Both students groaned out loudly. Black was there, sitting on the ground and back pressed against the wall to the wing.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” James challenged. His feet pivoted to Black, before her hands pressed against his chest, preventing him from touching Black and starting yet another fight. “Leave it.”

His eyes flickered from her to Black. Sighing, he made a slight rearward movement and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Just don’t follow us.”

They walked inside without sparing him another glance.

“Here comes the fucking sun, Moons!” James chirped, his mood altering drastically. But she staggered behind a beat.

Remus was already awake, quietly chatting to Peter. His bed curtains were half drawn and she took his rabbit from her bag, pulling it close to her chest.

His head snapped in their direction, but instead of his eyes landing on James, it went squarely to her. She smiled, eyes analyzing every ripple of expression. He didn’t seem angry. No, not at all, but stunned.

Once James realized she wasn’t by his side anymore, he turned and looped an arm over her shoulder. He whispered, “Moony won’t bite. It’s okay.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Remus finally said, smiling.

“Of course I’d come.” Confidence now circulated her body as she approached him, handing over his rabbit. James was delighted at his response while the rabbit nuzzled its way into the crook of Remus’ neck, tickling him. She murmured into his ear, not wanting to peer pressure him by others' wants, “You don’t mind me being here, do you? I’ll leave, no hurt feelings.”

Remus shook his head, petting his rabbit. “No, please stay.” He croaked, voice deep and tired.

“Oi!” James said, albeit quietly.

“Flirt somewhere else,” Peter added with false annoyance.

James nodded. “So, little Moony —”

“Little Moony?” Remus groaned. “What?”

“Aw,” she teased, “Is moody Moony making an appearance?”

“Did you come just to make fun of me?”

But then Peter grinned cheekily, moving to softly slap his hand down on his thigh in the same tempo as Here Comes the Sun. Y/N and James immediately caught on, ready to chagrin while Remus shook his hands in front of his face to get them to stop.

“Don’t you —“

“Here comes the sun, moody Moony —“ “Crikey.”

“Here comes the sun, and we say it’s alright!” They sang, keeping their voices to a minimum to not worsen his potential headache. They had to hold back their laughter as Peter began to replicate the horrible instrumental with his voice. James sang the loudest. “Little Moony, it’s been a long cold moon cycle.”

Madam Pomfrey poked her head from her office, ready to tell the visitors to be quieter than a mouse — or kick them out in favour of Remus’ rest but she froze. Remus was poorly attempting to cover his smile, his cheeks burning a bright red and she hadn’t seen him that happy after full moons. And after what happened last year, his happiness was all she wanted. So she sat back down, smiling to herself at the horrid sing.

“Little Moony, the smiles returning to the faces —”

“Guys!”

“Little Moony, it feels like years since it’s been here.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

James eventually left, rushing to tryouts with Marlene with a great deal of apprehension. When the bell rang, students rushing down for breakfast, both Y/N and Peter departed momentarily to the Great Hall, grabbing a few snacks and tea Remus requested.

But the moment Peter stepped foot outside the hospital wing, it was as if any sort of energy left his body. He became sluggish, moving slowly and yawned multiple times.

“Pete, go back to him, I’ll get everything,” she implored. “Or get some rest. I can’t imagine staying up all night can be good.”

“It’s —” A yawn. “— Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t push. They made their way around fast and exited quickly before a group of seventh and sixth years swarmed Peter. A few even greeted her, attempting to strike a conversation.

Peter sent her a dejected look, passing her the rest of the snacks and teacup.

“I’ll meet you there.”

She rushed back in record time. Black was still sitting outside the wing and she could faintly hear him muttering her name but she disregarded him wholly.

But the sight inside the hospital made her heart shatter.

Remus was haggard, dishevelled and face screwed together in pain. He tried to push himself up multiple times to reach behind his head, to his pillow. But it was futile.

The crinkling of the wrapper in her hand made her wince; it became the loudest object in the world at that moment. It forewarned Remus and she gently padded over. She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, setting down everything on the metal tray.

“Don’t push yourself — here, let me.” Remus visibly reclined into himself, covering his scarred arms with the blanket coiled by his side. But he listened without complaints as she reached behind his head, fluffing his pillow and helped him lay back down gently. “Not feeling too good?”

“Like shit.”

It became awkward fast.

“Um… Peter’s coming. Was held up with a couple of seventh years.” “You can leave if you don’t want to be here,” Remus blurted out, “I won't force you —”

“Woah there!” She felt as if she was slapped by him. The sudden change had her wheeling. “Who said you’re forcing me? You’re my Moony, no?”

He breathed out a chuckle and shifted towards her. She glanced at the tray with a few potions. What he said stuck to her.

“Do you mind if you can pour those into my tea? Thanks.” Remus croaked.

She nodded, unscrewed the cork to the vials and mixed it into the drink. The clinking sound of the spoon tapping against the porcelain cup.

“What is this?”

“Um… a mixture of powder silver and Nightshade,” grumbled Remus, trying to push himself up as she handed him the cup. “Helps with the pain and fogginess.”

Her mind was restless. “Can I ask some questions?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Questions?”

“Y’know, about being a werewolf.”

He took a giant gulp. “Did you just skip all the Werewolf questions on the OWLs?” Remus laughed.

“I bet half of it’s false.” She admitted truthfully. “Besides, how am I supposed to help next time if I don’t know?”

Remus stayed quiet for a long time after she said that and she wondered if she pushed a boundary. But then he nodded, urging her to continue.

“Okay… so silver doesn’t hurt you, right?” She watched as Remus sip his tea before having to put it down to laugh.

“Myth.”

“So all the silver bullet stuff..?”

He gave a full-body laugh. “Myth. Sorry, not what you were expecting?”

“No,” she admitted after a bit, embarrassed. All those children's stories were false…

“Silver can’t hurt me, I don’t grow hair rapidly. I like eating rare meat; I have trouble sleeping, I don’t have curved fingernails or low-set ears. I can’t run super fast but I can see better in the dark, can hear, smell and am stronger than the average Muggle or Wizard.”

“Can you always smell or hear better? Or does it increase near the full moon?”

“It becomes stronger near the full moon and after for a while.”

“Wait… Does that mean you can smell people. Like me?!” She was appalled and crossed her arms over herself as if the action would suddenly cover any scent.

Remus barked out laughing before wincing as a dull pain shocked through his system. “You smell fine. Don’t worry.”

Her hands found their way to cover her mouth. She was mortified. “You have a way with words, Lupin.”

Remus was on the verge of tears, nearly choking on himself to prevent laughing. He endured the deep bruise on the side of his ribs digging into him but he couldn’t stop.

She slapped his arm playfully and took the now empty teacup from his hand, setting it down on the metal tray and ushered him to slide over in his bed. He doesn’t hesitate.

Y/N slid beside him, and she could feel the fluctuating rise and fall of Remus’ chest as his chuckles came to a slow halt. She took the rabbit from his lap, holding it in her arms carefully.

“Does she have a name?” She questioned, scratching behind its floppy ears. Remus chose the least threatening rabbit.

“No.”

“We should think of one then.”

Remus watched her, listening to the words pouring out. But then he cringed inwardly, reminded of his cruelty to her a couple of months ago. He wasn’t expecting her to visit and it came as a pleasant surprise. It made his heart flutter. She wasn’t scared. She hadn’t been lying that night. He was accepted.

He tuned in to her heartbeat: steady and calm. Slow.

Her words echoed in his head. I feel safe with you.

Safe.

Remus felt a whisper of a smile worm it's way onto him. As soon the realization came, the dull ache in his body subdued, the burning in his throat faded and the hollow ache in his heart filled with a golden glow. Just a bit.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

September 10th, 1976

“I’m sorry,” Black said, his eyes wide and pleading as he sat beside her in the Great Hall. She ignored him.

“I need to explain, please,” Black begged in a hushed voice while she searched the library’s premises for Regulus. She ignored him yet again.

“Tesoro mio,” Black flirted, both sitting in the common room as she added notes in the werewolf section in her textbook. His new tactic caught her off guard but she prevailed, getting up and leaving.

“Talk to me,” Black whined. “Please.” She ignored him, continuing to walk to class calmly and held her head high. She just left the hospital wing and Black was trailing her.

But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a nearby broom closet and closed the door.

“Get off of me!” She nearly screamed. Thankfully, he was smart enough to keep a healthy distance away. She kept her hands balled into a fist, preventing herself from taking one of the dust brooms and smashing it on his head.

“Sorry! But you won’t talk to me any other way!”

Darkness enclosed them, only the light seeping through the cracks of the old wooden door illuminated Black as every ounce of restrengthen was pushed to the edge.

A flurry of apologies fell from his lips but she wouldn’t have it. Simply looking bored at her nails and tapping her foot against the ground.

“I know you’re mad — you have every right to be! I get that, I understand.”

“Then leave me alone?” She jeered sarcastically, handing grazing the doorknob.

“Wait! Please, just hear me out — let me explain —”

“Explain what?” She lashed out through gritted teeth. “You should count your stars that you don’t have an attempted murder charge.”

Her heart thumped rather fast and would have been distressing had she not been controlled by anger. Everything was overshadowed by a grim penumbra sweeping over them, closing in on her and Black and it wasn’t because of the lack of light in the dingy closet.

She was revolted by him. Sick of seeing his sad face, moping around the hospital wing or looking at her or the other Marauders in yearning.

“Do you think I’ll care about what you want to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted, dipshit.”

His head bowed. “I deserved that.” “You think?”

“It’s just that —”

Her temper spiked to the highest level and her hand drifted to her back pocket and grazed the tip of her wand.

“I —”

Something in her snap. “Shut up. Shut up! Stop trying to defend yourself! Stop it! I don’t want to hear it!”

Black was visibly shutting down. “Please, just calm down…”

And then everything poured out.

“Calm down? Calm down?! I gave — I put my trust in you and you immediately ran with it, breaking it twice and then broke everyone else’s! How am I supposed to talk to you like everything’s okay? I get that you don’t like me, that you don’t like Snape, but really? What do you not understand?!”

He was nodding his head, taking it, never once trying to defend himself. His head hung similar to a child being scolded, hands curled around himself.

“You must have never cared for them.”

Black went oddly still. “That's a bold lie and you know that.”

“Do I?” She ridiculed. “Do you want to know the funny part? I was starting to care for you. Apparently, you never did.”

“That’s not true.”

There, a flicker of rage. Finally a reaction other than pathetic regret and guilt. Something cold crept into his eyes, hardening and entirely stormy and silver, reminding her of last year where they constantly fought. But then, it was washed away with a blink.

“I was nothing but a toy to you!”

“Y/N...”

“You. Never. Cared. About —”

“Stop it! Of course I —”

“— Me. Or. The. Other —”

“— fucking cared —”

“— Marauders —” “ — about you!”

Her eyes stung with bitter unshed, frustrated tears and her throat burned, constricting together. Emotions she hadn’t taken a moment to consider hit her within seconds and everything was too overwhelming.

The material of her shirt suddenly turned itchy. Her skin was too tight and she felt herself rock back and forth in a way to calm down.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer as it fell silent but she struck a nerve.

“Stop saying that!” He shouted. Now not breaking her stare and took a step forward.

“You’re fucking selfish. You betrayed them.” A step forward.

“You only cared about yourself.” Black shook his head. Another step forward.

“If you ever cared about me — about anyone else you’ve hurt — you wouldn’t have done… that.” A step forward.

They were the closest they had been in months. Their breaths were laboured and ragged. Being that close to him raised all the hairs on her neck in a way she used to love but now hated herself for.

The very notion made her nauseous. Disgusted.

She missed him. Truly. It was such a profound hurt and longing that ran deeper than wanting a quick snog or shag. But that was her problem that she was going to have to hide, bury in an air-sealed chest and throw away.

He opened his mouth and he leant forward inappreciably. But whatever words he was about to spew, he stopped himself. She could feel his breath fan her face, both of their chest raised and fell rapidly.

They stayed like that for a while and she held back from crying, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” He asked dejectedly.

Why did you have to be so stupid? We could’ve… you could’ve had everything.

Do you miss me?

Did you ever care, even a little?

“This time,” her voice was no louder than a rustle, “I mean it. I hate you. Truly.”

Lie.

Black gave her one last glance through heavy, desolate, half-lidded eyes, closing them shut. “Ti voglio bene.”

Her frown doubled, wondering if he mocked her. Why did he always do that?

“At least you’re consistent in one thing.”

She slipped out, her hand on the door and cracked it open, leaving him there.

“Being a fucking liar.”

She slammed the door shut with so much violence that it made a couple of bystanders passing by yelp and stare. The shattering of glass from within the closet echoed and it made her breathless.

She had to lean against the stone wall, her body buzzing and numb from the adrenaline.

Sometimes everything in her life seemed so… random. What if everything could have been avoided? One simple word, maybe if she said something different, or did something different, would the outcome have been better? Or worse?

What if she had two parents? What if she had been raised by a loving mother? Would she have been that hurt by his actions if opening up was less… impossible?

What ifs…

She stumbled her way to class mindlessly, horribly late. The floorboards creaked, cutting Slughorn off while she lurked in the doorway. The teacher’s head, along with everyone else in the room, snapped up.

Lily looked at her worriedly and concern was written in every inch of her face. James had a double-take and became alarmed while Marlene on the other side of the class looked around nervously.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries, m’girl!” Slughorn smiled. “Please, take the seat next to… Severus! Now, I was saying, I have a small tradition I’d like to do every year with my students.”

Y/N didn’t even interject; too drained after what happened and sat by Snape.

“Can anyone tell me what this is?” The professor held up a tiny bottle. “Or can anyone tell me what Felix Felicis is?”

Lily raised her hand, casting a concerned gaze to her before answering. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barty and Avery, along with a few other students whispering to each other as Lily spoke; all of them forcing down a smile. Y/N vaguely sensed herself prickle.

“It’s known as Liquid Luck. As the name suggests, it makes the drinker lucky.”

“Beautiful answer! Quite right! Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, whoever brews the Draught of Living Death the closest will win this prize at the end of this lesson. Off you go!”

The class was scurrying off quickly while she made her way around leisurely. Snape’s sopophorous bean had been hitting her multiple times.

“Would you fucking —” she grabbed the bean with her hands and threw it at Snape and he hissed at. “Just take your knife blade and squeeze it down on the side with your dagger.”

Snape scoffed. “That’s not going to work you d —”

Snape shut up immediately as she crushed the bean with a sharp knife and flicked the juice into the cauldron.

“Now stop hitting me or I’ll pour your potion on the ground.”

Snape’s attention wasn’t on her, instead of trying to decipher her scribbles before taking her book away from his eyesight. She hit him with her book.

She completed the rest of the potion with ease. Snape was nearly done with his potion, she could tell he was on the right path before Slughorn sauntered around the classroom to observe the students. At James’ cauldron, he made no comment but instead helped stir his potion. Lily was given an approving nod, announcing to the class that she earned Gryffindor a few house points until making his way over to their table, peering into the cauldrons. At Snape’s concoction, he gave a bright smile and opened his mouth until he saw hers and a look of pure delight spread over him, his hands clapping together.

“Oho! Excellent! Miss L/N has done it! We have our winner!”

A small round of claps went around meanwhile James and Marlene cheered loudly, effectively embarrassing her.

“Show off,” Snape sneered. She ignored him.

Once the bell rang, Slughorn called her over to collect her vial of Liquid Luck. She slipped the bottle into her pocket for safekeeping.

But before she left, she stopped and spun around. “Professor Slughorn?”

“Yes?”

“I read in my Advanced Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, but I found that there’s no Potion to help Werewolves. I was wondering if that’s still true? I know books can be outdated.”

Slughorn gave her a pensive look. “I think that’s a matter for Madam Pomfrey. Is there a reason why?”

“It’s just —” She made up a lie quickly. “I’m nervous about NEWTs and how I’ll do in my studies and it’s merely an interest.”

“Oh, my girl! You are excellent. By far one of the best students I’ve ever had. You don’t need to worry!” Slughorn cheered. Slughorn seemed genuine and she smiled at the praise. “And for your question, no. Sadly there isn’t.”

“At all?”

Slughorn thought for a while. “If I recall, there have been recent developments with stewed Mandrakes. It’s rumoured to help lycanthrope individuals ease their way back into the original human state.”

Y/N stored the newfound information in her head. She thanked him, turning to leave until calling out again. Slughorn twirled his head.

“I was wondering if I could practice more — like I said, I‘m nervous about my NEWTs.”

There wasn’t even a delay and Slughorn beamed. “Of course! As long as you clean up after yourself, you may come and go as you please. I’ll make sure to leave the doors open until curfew.

“Oh! I’m planning to host another Slugclub dinner soon, I expect you to be there?”

“... Of course, sir.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Translations:

Tesoro mio = My treasure or 'honey'

Ti voglio bene = 'I love you' but its not like what you think. It's more of an unconditional and selfless love that means 'I want you to be well.' It places an emphasis on the tender and affectionate feelings you have for the other person. It's the safer option to say to your significant other if it's a very new relationship.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[voxymoxyboxy]

Drabbles for my Various Sam and Max AUs 01- Ghost Max AU

Hi there! I wanted to actually publish my writing for once, so I decided to write a whole bunch of drabbles of my various Sam and Max AUs! I’m gonna try to make at least one for every AU, so wish me luck! Here’s the first one!

P.S. If you wanna hear more about them, please ask! I wanna talk about them! Don’t be shy!

TW: Mentions of Death and Cursing 

Drabble 01- Ghost Max AU

Max had never really seen himself as a ‘people’ person.

When he was a kid, the only ones who’d ever tolerated his presence were his parents and a handful of his siblings, and even then it sometimes felt like that was stretching it. That had been fine by him. Playing too roughly with others usually sent him to time out while playing by the rules bored him out of his mind. At the end of the day, it just seemed easier to keep to himself.

The lagomorph had even preferred it, regardless of that weird pang in his chest.

In all of his life, Max could honestly say that he had grown fond of his workmates. Would never openly admit it, but the signs had been there. Whenever the rabbit teased Sybil, poked fun at Superball, eventually turned into something akin to affectionate after a year of knowing them. Hell, the lagomorph remembered the days he’d spent trying to get them together, leaving notes and gifts as the other.

There was a small part of him that yearned to go back. If anything, they were the only things worth living for.

Being dead put a damper on all that, of course.

In the beginning it had been great! Being a ghost was amazing! No responsibilities (taxes who?), all the free time in the world to do whatever the lagomorph wanted. Sure, not being able to enjoy the luxuries of food was a bummer but flying was pretty neat! It was only when Max tried leaving when it hit him. Literally.

What appeared to be some kind of force field prevented him from leaving his little ramshackle apartment. That hadn’t bothered him at first. After all, learning what ghostly powers he held could keep the rabbit entertained for hours! Could being the key word. While fun to start, progress was slow then came to a stop completely when it became fruitless. Roaming the same halls grew boring. Floating lost its charm. The yellow of the walls started taunting him almost.

Going to Heaven would’ve been preferable to the pseudo-hell he was trapped in.  

A tiny sliver of hope came when the corpse cleaners came a few days after his death. Hermit that Max was, someone must’ve finally called the police after the smell became too much to bear. They’d burst in, covered head to toe in white before getting right to work. Which was weird, but not unexpected. Someone was making sure that his death was but a blip to be forgotten.

That was okay. The lagomorph planned to have the last laugh.

Opportunity struck. Jumping in one of their paths, the rabbit had snapped at the man, laying out every insult in the book (that he’d written, by the way). Imagine the look on his face when the fucker simply walked through him, face set in stone as if he hadn’t heard a damn word.

Because he hadn’t, Max had realized, horror thrumming in his core.

Nobody could.

They left. A few more people entered. The lagomorph tried everything. Shouting, yelling, kicking their kneecaps, pushing a tumbler off the kitchen counter like in those old horror movies his ma told him not to watch. Nothing. No flinching or yelps of pain left their mouths. Only sounds of exertion and mumbling before they too were gone, leaving the rabbit in silence.

Quiet. It was too quiet. Noise kept Max busy, kept that small ball of darkness from spreading through his brain like poison. Silence, for some, was comforting.

For him it was deafening.  

Forced to see the same things day in and day out, the rabbit soon discovered the pang was back in full force. When exactly had it disappeared? The thought, while elusive during the day, always crept back at night, when Max couldn’t sleep to keep it at bay. It grew, evolved into what-ifs and questions he had no answers for.  

How had Sybil and Superball reacted to his death? They had to know it was murder, right? A little bump to the head was the last way he wanted to go out, right behind getting shot but ahead of choking on a gummy bear. Were they looking for the bastard that did him in? A tiny voice from who-knows-where told the lagomorph that the pair didn’t care enough.

Max tended to agree.

What of his family? Funnily enough, getting offed made the rabbit more appreciative of his family. They certainly weren’t the most loving or caring, but there were hints here and there. A kiss on the forehead, an older sibling giving him the slightly bigger half of a cookie, little Milly coming to climbing into his bed during a particularly bad thunderstorm. Despite not thinking about them for countless years, Max couldn’t stop the memories from playing over and over.  

It didn’t take him long to learn that they kept him sane, let him forget the pain in his chest.

(Let him forget how lonely he was-)

It hurt to confess that he desperately craved contact. With humans, animals, anyone! Even a scrap would last him a lifetime at that point-

You could say Sam was Max’s saving grace, as pathetic as that sounded.

The day the dog moved in was perhaps the happiest moment of Max’s- well, not life, but whatever the ghost equivalent was. Non-life? Existence? Guy was noisy for sure. Talked through mundane tasks, whistled random tunes, turned up the tv to the point where the lagomorph was sure the neighbors could hear every gunshot from the noir films Sam was so fond of, all of it blended into a wonderful symphony of cacophony.

Max loved it. Even his terrible banjo playing. Found it endearing even, but he would take that lil’ tidbit to his grave… If he could find it, that is.

The rabbit had watched from afar. Not really a point to creep on the guy up close when the chance of seeing him was zero percent. He was used to stalking people from afar anyway (obviously), so it felt nice to fall into a rhythm.

Watch Sam wake up. Morning routine included bathroom necessities, of which Max had only peeked once (by accident!). Least he could do was give the poor dog some privacy. After that was breakfast. Usually a slice of toast or bowl of cereal (something sugary and tooth-rotting, so the rabbit knew he had good taste) along with the essential cup of coffee. It amused Max to no end that it was more a glorified cup of milk and sugar, yet it was-dare he think it- kinda cute actually.

From all his observations, Max could only assume the dog was a detective of some sort. His oak desk was covered with endless amounts of papers and folders, of which he would spend the entire day looking through until Sam came home to do the same. Almost felt like he was some kind of housewife waiting for her husband.

Almost like he actually meant something again.

If he’d met Sam when he was alive, what would’ve been different?

Everything. There was no doubt about it.

Sam was special.

Max just hadn’t known how much until that special night….

Maybe ‘people’ weren’t that bad after all.

[magalidragon]

hi! prompt 22 or 28 on random in the olenna cinematic universe that is the rose next door! tysm for doing this <3

Haha this might be a little mean. 🙈 also for @nlights37 whose commentary on a certain wildling may have ending up in here.

22. Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion AND 26. The diamond in your engagement ring is fake. 😂

////

Olenna was watering her beautiful lilies in the front yard when the woman showed up.

It was a little silver car that looked like a toy; pulled right into the driveway next door, marched up to the front door, banged on it shouting: "Crow! Open up!" Then when no one answered-- because apparently 'Crow' no longer lived there as it had been vacant for two years-- the woman marched towards her car. The yard looked pristine, she couldn't fault the woman for thinking someone was still there. Olenna refused to let the house look unkempt just because Jon Snow had trouble selling it.

She kept watering, gazing over curiously. It was the redhead. The one who used to be with her neighbor before he wisely upgraded to a newer, improved model. The woman didn't look at her, but called across the street at Davos, who had just pulled into his drive, and was removing grocery bags. "Hey! Sailor guy!"

Olenna snorted. "You know dear, if you had manners, you might get what you asked for." She finished with the hose and dropped it, walking casually to the property line, the woman peering shrewdly towards her. She smiled politely, while Davos watched uncertainty from the drive. "Olenna Tyrell, my dear, what can I do for you?"

The redhead scowled. "I'm looking for Snow."

"So go up north they have a lot there."

She scowled. "Jon Snow. I'm Ygritte Wilde, his girlfriend."

"Well his wife will be curious to know that." Olenna cocked her head, scanning the woman up and down. She looked like a little boy. She waved her finger at the strange overall combo she wore with dirty shoes and her scraggly red hair in a fraying braid. "What is this you're wearing?"

The woman drew back, surprised. Her mouth fell slightly. "Clothes, why?"

"With your body shape you might want to not wear something that appears as though you're wearing a garbage sack" The woman gaped. Olenna clarified, in case she was stupid. "You look like a little boy. Acting like one too, mouth like that.:

Davos had appeared at her side. "Olenna!" he exclaimed.

"What?"

The woman frowned, pointing. "You're the old bat that lives next door."

"Yes you're quite sharp, sharp as my dull rose clippers."

Davos stepped between them, damn him. "Davos Seaworth. You're Ms. Wilde, yes?"

"Ygritte!"

They all looked over at the other house, Jon coming out, holding his daughter on his hp. Ygritte's lip curled, annoyed. He stomped over, irritated. "I told you to come to my house."

"So I did," she replied, sweetly. Too sweet, for Olenna's tastes. She knew a manipulator when she saw one. Ygritte narrowed her eyes on the baby. "Oh, your daughter."

"Come here lass," Davos said, taking the squirming toddler from Jon. The baby was rather cute, Olenna had to admit. He glared at her. "Olenna, why don't you come help me get my groceries out of the car?"

"Get them yourself, you're capable." She turned to Ygritte. She smiled again. "How can I help you?"

Jon tried to step between them, but she blocked him. "Olenna, thanks I got it."

Ygritte flashed her left hand, which had a large diamond on it. Olenna narrowed her eyes on it. She didn't like this at all. "Crow, I'm very busy, I have things to do. I've got your stuff, tell Tormund not to use me like a delivery service." She flicked at her chipped nails. "I've got a wedding to plan you know."

"Yeah I heard, congratulations."

"The diamond in your engagement ring is fake."

They all thought she wasn't there again. They stared, horrified. Olenna blinked. "What? It is. I can tell a mile away. You're not fooling anyone darling, you think you can make Jon Snow jealous? Do you know how long it took me and this one here--" She jerked her thumb to Davos, who looked ready to die. "-- to get this idiot--" a jerk towards Snow, who was burying his fac ein his hands. "--to realize that he was bloody in love with the blonde over there?" A jerk now to Daenerys, who had come out to see the commotion. She arched her brows, smirking. "You have nothing on me dear. Now, whatever it is you need, finish it and leave."

Little Aly cooed. She chuckled, taking her from Davos, who was stunned. "Come here darling, come to Auntie Olenna. Let's get you some lemon cakes." She glanced at them all; Dany had rushed over now. She frowned. "What are you all staring at? Get to it."

Davos followed after her, while the couple next door spoke with the redhead, who still looked horrified. "You are so rude. And mean. That was uncalled for."

"So is her presence. I hate people who can't scheme properly." Olenna sat Aly down on a chair at the table and began to prepare her a plate of lemon cakes. She narrowed her eyes on the redhead. "Didn't like her when she was here, don't like her now."

"You think she has a shot to try to get him back?" Davos snorted. "Think again. I thought you were smart."

"Oh I am. I appreciate her effort." She pondered it for a moment and smiled, leaving Aly and going back down the path to where they all were. She waved again. Ygritte looked wary; Jon and Dany looked annoyed. "Jon, dear, didn't you say you were still having trouble selling your place?"

He scowled. "Yes Olenna. And you know why."

They all claimed she drove off the potential buyers. Lies, absolute lies. The Baratheons, the Martells, that Baelish character, and the strange redhead who she thought was a witch, they all didn't buy it for their own reasons. Not because of anything she did. preposterous. She patted his arm. "Dear boy, that's sweet you think a little old lady like myself would be involved in such nefarious things." She studied Ygritte. With some work, she might do alright. She reached for her. "Come dear, let me show you the house. Tell me about yourself."

"Um, Crow?"

Jon and Dany were horrified. "Olenna no," Dany whispered.

"Oh don't you two worry. Go make me another sweet baby like that one up there. I've got this." She patted Ygritte's arm, the woman bewildered. They walked over to the house, Ygritte saying she didn't need to see it, she already knew what it looked like. Olenna had no interest in actually trying to get her to buy the damn place. She just saw a potential problem and was dealing with it. Once they were in the yard, away from everyone else, she turned, polite as ever. "Now, let's cut the shit. You've got good form, but you need work. Fake engagement to make him jealous? Please. Trying to get him to be interested by weaseling your way in with some long forgotten item of his you need to drop off? Ha! Amateaur work." She kept her voice soft, gentle, and watched the light go out of Ygritte's eyes, realizing she'd been had. "Now, those two are happy, in love, and I spent countless hours getting them together and all I want is another damn baby to spoil. So, you will turn around and drive away, and if you even think of trying to do a damn thing to those two I will find you and ruin you and you'll really need to get those rabbit teeth of yours fixed."

Ygritte gaped. "I don't think you have any call to try to tell me what to do."

"Hmm, that's adorable. Good thing I didn't ask for your opinion." She beamed. "Come on then. Have a cup of tea before you depart."

[darlingsdevil]

The Ballads of Rebirth (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Chapter 3: “Mrs. Morgan”

Masterlist

•••

A/N: thank you all so much for the support! This is the most I’ve ever written in three days, all three parts were written within 12 hours of the last! I’d love to hear more feedback from you guys. And btw, this story is def gonna be more like 10 chapters long haha.

•••

“I’m fine, Charles. I am, now let me go out hunting, you know I’m just as deadly with a rifle as you are with a bow.”

“I know, but we’re bow hunting, it’d be like bringing an elephant into the woods and telling it to go sneak up on someone.” Charles pushed Arthur’s chest into the bed, he fell back with a thud.

“It’s only because you’re still sick. In a couple weeks, I’ll take you out hunting with me, but until then you’re staying here.” And with that, Charles promptly walked out of the tent leaving Arthur annoyed in his bed.

Arthur hated everyone treating him like he was a baby, and he already always hated people fretting over him in general. You would have laughed at everyone’s attentiveness towards Arthur’s health, while Arthur could do little but just sit there and look pretty.

He missed you more and more everyday, Charles and Mahala could see the longing for you in his eyes, it was heartbreaking to watch. Mahala knew nothing of you, Arthur’s past was a mystery, but by the way Arthur spoke she knew he was missing his other half, like a record player that could not play any music.

Even if he missed you, Arthur promised himself he wouldn’t search for you until he was better, which could take many more months.

Mahala estimated it would take around three more months to fully recover if he didn’t relapse. In three more months you could be on the opposite side of the country, it would take so much longer to find you. But he eventually would, he would begin that journey when he was ready.

Arthur was slowly gaining weight if he were to prepare for his journey he would need to first maintain a decent weight. His fevers left him with little appetite but Mahala had kept him on a reliable diet that he could usually keep down. Rabbit that Charles hunted, wheat bread and carrots and peppers. Mahala was a good cook, so Arthur never got bored of his daily food.

It was early in the morning, Mahala usually brought his breakfast in at nine, but she always visited before that. She’d tell him stories of her youth which were surprisingly interesting,her stories were the only thing keeping Arthur sane. He never liked sitting around and being lazy like Uncle, but listening to a story wasn’t exactly just sitting around. Mahala had lots of stories, fables and legends, it always kept him intrigued.

When seven rolled around, and Charles had long been gone, Arthur could hear Mahala’s cheerful humming from outside the tent.

“Rise and shine, my son.” She said, ripping open the tents opening.

“G’morning Mahala. Sleep well?” Arthur mumbled, attempting to sound sleepy. Mahala always got angry when Arthur didn’t sleep in, since he rarely ever slept and if he did it was for very short periods of time.

Mahala gave Arthur a knowing look, turning away from him. She pulled a small vial out of her bag, Arthur groaned. Medicine.

“It’s your favorite,” she said in a sing songy voice, putting some on a spoon. Arthur grabbed the spoon from her nimble hands. He shoved the spoon in his mouth. It was bitter and awful and he nearly choked on it every time.

“Swallow it.” She said sternly, glaring at him. He obliged and felt the viscous liquid fall down his throat. It was his least favorite part of Mahala’s visits, minus the coughing fits and fevers.

She sat down next to Arthur’s bed, setting her bag down next to her. Glass vials clinked in her leather bag, it was old and worn and held lots of medicine for Arthur. He wasn’t sure what he took everyday, never bothering to ask, even if he did, he wouldn’t understand it. It was some sort of herbal mixture, but tasted like it was left out in the sun for hours and had turned rancid.

“Today I want to hear a story from you.” Mahala began after she noticed Arthur had drank the medicine.

It felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs, something he had unfortunately become accompanied with in the last few months. She had never asked of his past. He hadn’t even prepared an answer, expecting . Even if he knew he would never lie to Mahala, knowing she could see through it instantly, he could still avoid the full truth.

“A story about me?” He asked with a light chuckle, sitting up. Mahala nodded.

“Well I’m not that interesting. I ain’t got much to tell.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She told him.

He thought for a moment, deciding what was the safest to tell, interesting but not risky. She eyed the small gold band on his finger, the only thing besides Charles that anchored him to his past.

“Tell me about her.”

“You wanna know about Mrs. Morgan?”

“Yes. You’ve never spoken of her. Was she dull? Is that why you’ve never talked about her?” Mahala tilted her head in humorous curiosity.

“No, no, she’s far from dull.” He laughed, shaking his head. A small smile splayed on Mahala’s lips.

“She was wonderful, kind and beautiful. A compassionate heart, but boy, if you got her mad you’d better be praying.” Mahala listened to every word he said.

“Once.. once I’d forgotten to lay my socks out to dry and gotten sick from it, she didn’t let me rest for one minute. She was fuming, but she still kept care of me.” It had been years ago, long before either of you had confessed your feelings but he remembered it like it was yesterday. It felt good to speak about you, like a large weight had been pulled off of his chest. He felt lighter.

Mahala laughed at the story, she had never been married, claiming a man could not handle her ideas. A pang of happiness struck her heart, Arthur was like her son, and to see him be open and smile around her was wonderful, but she could still tell he was keeping the full truth from her.

“It seems like she was good for you.”

“Yeah, I think she is.”

“My, my child. Is she alive or dead? You speak of her in different pretenses, I cannot tell.” Mahala, ever the curious cat was incredibly broad, perhaps too broad for her own good.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, not realizing he’d been holding it in this entire conversation.

“I’m not too sure to be honest. We got separated a few days before Charles found me, Charles doesn’t seem to know where she went. She could be halfway across the country or six feet in the ground by now.”

Mahala pursed her lips tightly.

“You’ll find her, lovers always find a way back to each other.”

“Don’t give me that sappy stuff, Mahala. The world don’t work like that.”

“Believe what you will, but I’m sure you’ll find her. I can see the love in your eyes for her.”

Arthur had heard that from Hosea on the night he proposed to you, after you had gone to bed for the evening and Arthur was still up drinking with the few men who were still awake in celebration. It was right before everything went to shit, and the entire gang was forced out of Blackwater. It was only him, Hosea, Dutch and John who were awake, the true Van der Linde family, the only missing piece was you. Drunk Arthur didn’t remember much of the rest of the night besides that one comment.

“I see your love for her in your eyes. They twinkle more, it’s like you’re finally seeing the bigger picture. A love like that can’t be broken by death, and god knows death comes quickly and often in this life.”

•••

“Lee, can you pick that up for me?” You pointed towards a can of green beans that had fallen down, since you were at the cash register helping a rather moody customer.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He picked up the green beans, and instantly returned to restocking. Lee had been acting strange all day, he avoided your eye and spoke to you only when talked to first. It wasn’t like him at all. You were sure it had something to do with your kiss on the cheek last night. You smiled at the thought of him becoming weak at just a peck on the cheek, it was how Arthur used to be as well at the beginning of your relationship.

Today had been awful, two customers had yelled at you for running out of items and one, you realized later, had stolen multiple cans of food. The general store was already hurting after a newer one had been put up. It was a chain store, so everyone wanted to go see what all the fuss was about. You hadn’t told Lee about the crook who took the food, and you were still deciding if you were going to. You had stolen food countless times while in the gang, it felt so much worse when you were on the opposing end.

When the shop finally closed, it was just you and Lee again. He was still nervous to be around you, moving to the opposite side of the room to ‘sweep’ when you moved closer to him.

Around ten minutes after being closed, he cleared his throat. You look up at him, putting the money you were counting on the glass shelf.

He stared at you with big brown eyes.

“Can I take you on a date, Mrs. Morgan?” Lee asked you with sudden confidence.

You froze for a moment, you eyes staring off at the window behind him. For a second, you thought you saw Arthur, standing there behind Lee.

“I’ll take you down to the restaurant, the one that just opened by the pier,” Lee’s sudden confidence was destroyed by your silence.

You liked him well enough, but were you really ready for that type of commitment again? Arthur was barely dead, you had mourned for him while he was living, since he had pushed you away as soon as he got sick. It was like he was a ghost the minute he had found out about his diagnosis. Arthur did his damn best to make sure you made it out okay, even if it meant pushing you away to keep you safe. Your biggest regret was not staying with him through it all, no matter his protests.

“I’d love to go with you.”

You could finally let go of Arthur, the final thing holding you back. He would have wanted you to move on, to see you happy.

And you were happy right now, you felt contempt with your life for the first time in a long time.

•••

[libraryscarf]

here is the piece i wrote for the @womenmadefullmetal zine, which i was profoundly honored to be included in! please check out their tumblr to see all the amazing art and writing that went into this project. i was asked to write about my best girl, winry, and i’m so excited to share this fic with you guys. <3

turning home

( ao3 / ff.net )

The Rockbell women have always breathed smoke, her grandmother tells her, not long after her parents die, but not soon either. We’re furnaces, you and me, she says. Anything that tries to go through us will need to melt.

Winry tries to swallow the lump of black metal in her throat. It sinks into her stomach, distending her insides, like the stretched belly of a snake after devouring a rabbit. That darkness will dissolve eventually, worn away by the passing years and the Resembool sunlight. But fragments of it will float in her system always, pulsing now and then with the heartbeat of loss. It will coat her lungs with iron. It will spike her blood with steel. It will surface in the blisters on her palms, toughening them like hide.

Winry learns at a young age that grief can serve her, both as her burden and as her armor.

: : :

“You shouldn’t be checking in so often. I’m fine. And even if I weren’t, Den knows who to fetch if I need help.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you calling, child?!”

“Well...I thought you might appreciate an update on how I’m doing.”

“Winry. You don’t think I have my own connections in Rush Valley? I’ve known how you were doing the moment you set foot in that wretched city.”

Winry smiles. The anxious bite in her grandmother’s voice hints that Pinako hasn’t been quite as collected as she likes to profess.

“Several people here have told me stories about you.”

“Of course they have. I’m a legend.”

“So you did attach automail fingers to Mrs. Wheeler’s foot instead of toes.”

“Who told you that?!”

“Mrs. Wheeler. And Mr. Wheeler. And Mr. Garfiel. And--”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. She thanked me later. Made it easier for her to pick things up.”

Pinako’s laughter crackles over the line, and Winry joins her. If they were together, sharing this evening as they have countless others in that yellow house, she would see the spidery lines around her grandmother’s mouth smooth away, and Pinako would resemble the woman of so many years ago, her eyes bright as beads of mercury.

: : :

She sits on the wide windowsill of her room, one leg swinging over the shoe-beaten, dusty street outside Atelier Garfiel. The workshop is humid, ripe with male armpits whose owners are always traipsing in.

Heat rises from the ground in shimmering waves, and she pulls in a long breath. The air tastes like the burnished insides of a forge; the sun prickles in a glittering sky. Yesterday one of her clients had cracked an egg onto his metal knee to the delight of six local children. The sun above reminds Winry of the yolk: a perfect golden disc surrounded by sizzling white.

She loves it here. It isn’t the same love she feels for the sweeping countryside where she was born, a slow, soft thing layered with complications of old sorrow.

The love she harbors for Rush Valley is quicksilver and octane, a rush of searing air, a keen and yellow energy that wakes in her muscles each morning and blasts wild through her dreams each night. It is a rough town that Winry loves, but it fits her roughened parts, and Rush Valley loves her back.

: : :

“I’m happy you’re settled in. Tell the others hello from me.”

“Mei already said hi when she heard I was calling. Zampano and Jerso, too. Oh, and Ling suggested bringing you here to serve as the official court mechanic. They’ve apparently never had one before, but he said you could name your price.”

Winry’s grin stretches across her face. That sounds so like something Ling would suggest that she can nearly hear it in his voice.

“And Lan Fan’s thoughts?”

“She admires your work, but doubts you’d want to relocate so far just to take care of her arm.”

Winry’s fingers skim the pocked surface of the worktable. She knows every divot, every chip and scar, as though they’re carved in her own skin.

“I’d like to visit Xing,” she admits.

“There’s a lot of murmuring about a railroad across the desert. Goodness knows how long that’ll take—but then you and Granny could both come.”

His voice has changed, even since they last saw each other. Winry presses a knuckle to her mouth, her eyes stinging.

“Will you be happy there?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

“...Winry?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

She chews her thumbnail, cursing her stupid throat for closing up.

“Don’t be stupid, Al. I’ve no idea what you mean.”

: : :

Wandering down the uneven rows, Winry’s eyes skim the names. She halts in front of two close-set stones, where others have left tokens. Her eyes fall on a wilting sprig of sweet violets and yellow honeysuckle.

She sinks cross-legged to the ground between the graves, her back and knees complaining after so many long nights of work. The violets’ brittle stems crumble under her fingers into fine gray dust.

Her father had adored sweet violets, Winry remembers suddenly. He had yelled in delight upon finding the first clumps of them in the spring, when winter still bared its teeth in the frigid midnights and ghosted the mornings with frost. He would gather handfuls, stuffing his nose into the velvet purple blossoms. Winry’s mother laughed often and openly, but never was it filled with more delight than when her husband doubled over, possessed by a fit of uncontrollable sneezing.

A warm drop slips down her cheek, and she swipes at it viciously. Another drop splashes onto the end of her nose. Then the sky opens, unleashing a violent spring tempest that sends Winry sprinting for cover. The overhang of the groundskeeper’s shed provides the closest thing to shelter and she crowds herself under it, blinking the lukewarm rain out of her eyes.

In her haste to escape the storm, she hardly notices the soft grit of the disintegrating violets in her hand. Following a vague impulse, she holds them up to her nose, inhaling their powdery, dying sweetness.

Then she sneezes.

: : :

“Hey, you actually picked up.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Winry’s voice is sharp, camouflaging the way her entire body melts at hearing his voice. A voice that is safe, and healthy, and--as usual--a bit too loud.

“Jeez. Is this a bad time?”

A telling pause.

“Are you crying?”

“No!!”

Her head feels like someone has packed it with wet paper. Ed chuckles ruefully.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” Her “m” s and “n” s are migrating toward “b” and “d” territory.

“You sound awful.”

“Right, I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, okay! Sorry!”

Slowly, Winry puts her ear to the phone again. And then sneezes on it.

“Maybe...a tiny bit sick,” she admits.

“Stop pulling all-nighters.”

“I don’t have an all-nighter to blame for this. And don’t tell me what to do.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ed says, half-laughing.

The line crackles as he sighs. “You had to take care of me so much. I feel kinda guilty.”

“You were an extremely bad-tempered patient.”

“Well your bedside manner isn’t exactly welcoming!”

Winry hears the veins popping in his neck and forehead. Ed communicates everything of himself through his voice. He could so easily be sitting across from her.

She closes her eyes and imagines he is.

“You know I didn’t really mind,” she says.

A sheepish grunt from Ed’s side. “Is that because you got to boss me around and tell me what to eat and when to sleep?”

“That... was a contributing factor.”

“I knew it!” he crows victoriously. “You’re sadistic. Sick with power.”

“So was that your backwards way of saying, ‘Winry, I’m so sorry I’m not there to nurse you back to health and make up for all the times I was a stubborn jerk’?”

The pause before his answer is just long enough to worry her.

“It would take a hell of a lot more to make up for that.”

Winry’s smile evaporates, her heart twisting.

“Ed...”

“What? I can’t be sincere for a second?”

“It’s not that . I…I just--”

His laugh interrupts her. “You don’t need anyone to take care of you, Winry. You never have.”

“It might be nice, though,” she mumbles. “Once in a while.”

“Consider the hint taken.”

Her chest expands with relief, a warm wave lifting her on its crest.

“Come home soon.”

Ed hesitates. She is hard to lie to, and if he’s smart, he won’t try.

“I’ll hurry.”

Winry believes him.

: : :

When her head aches and her hands are chapped, Winry walks up the hill to the big tree, where an aged swing creaks against its ropes. The valley flows away from her feet in green, rolling swells.

Her mind is busy, though her hands are not.

She thinks of her newest customer: a girl, no older than Ed when he had his surgery, her right hand missing from a farm mishap. Winry had reassured her that with automail, she could still play her fiddle.

She thinks of how Ed mentioned over breakfast how nice a house would look, there at the top of the hill where the foundation of a burned building still lies.

She thinks of Al’s recent visit, when he brought silk and tea and bright, human laughter across the desert.

She thinks of how her daughter reminds her in a thousand half-painful ways of Pinako, asleep now next to her own children.

She thinks of the countless small responsibilities waiting for her at home: an electric motor to tune up, a bruise to kiss and bandage, a shipment invoice to file, a long-overdue call to Paninya, a pie crust to bake.

Winry listens to the birds talking in the branches high above her. She smiles.

Then she turns down the hill, beginning the walk back home.

[burlybanner]

Drip (ScienceBrosWeek, 2019)

Second verse, same as the first.

Summary: Peering deep into the rabbit hole carries serious penalties.

Disclaimer: Again, this is different from my usual style and I’m not sure where this story is going. So I’m not sure when I’ll continue. But keep me honest; it’ll happen eventually.

Unbeta’d, same ol’ song.

Part 1 here. **

The ride down should’ve frightened Bruce more than it did. Maybe he was dissociating because it reminded him of too many things. Down, down they went. When he looked up, the opening from the ceiling shrank as they descended into the dark, the lips of the opening closing as slowly as they sank. But Bruce was more curious than anything; Clint had pressed one of the three buttons near his hip, but continued to flip through his magazine as if he could care less about his passengers. How could he see in the growing dark? Maybe he didn’t care; maybe that was part of his job, to appear unassuming. 

He heard a sudden clank with the hydraulic elevator hum, and eerie pops and pings ramped his anxiety. Seconds passed before he noticed strings of  industrial fairy lights waking up, welcoming them as they plunged into the deep. His anxiety flickered with the bulbs, ebbing and flowing as they pulsed on the dank dolostone like lightning bugs. He’d always liked lightning bugs. He hadn’t seen any in years; he wondered if they still existed. 

“Hey. You with me?”

Tony’s voice, although a whisper, still echoed against the slick walls. Drips of karst water fell off the sides and disappeared into the ether. Somewhere in the distance he heard a drip-drip-kerplunk, another forgotten echo in a forbidden cavern.

“Always,” Bruce spat out, but Tony fumbled for his fingers anyway. It was just enough to shock him, something he loved and hated.

The platform screeched. Bruce wasn’t sure why he’d thought they’d be in some  techo marvel of an elevator, like ones in the movies. He also didn’t think they’d be in some ridiculously slow mine elevator, either.

“Okay,” Clint finally said. The elevator rattled, bouncing to a stop. “First floor, ladies.”

“Really?” 

“I call ‘em as I see ‘em.” Tony rolled his eyes as Clint turned a key and pressed another elevator button. The button glowed, maybe reading his thumbprint - hell, what did he know - and the gate squawked open. “This is where you get off.” Clint chuckled.

“I swear, Barton--”

“Sorry. But hey, it’s boring today. A guy’s gotta have fun wherever he can find it.”

“Never mind.” Tony didn’t seem too put out but he grabbed Bruce’s hand tighter and dragged him from the lift before it slowly ascended to heaven, with Clint safely tucked inside. Bruce blinked. He hadn’t seen the small bridge until now. A small walking bridge, joining the lift platform to another section of the cave. 

“We’re gettin’ there.”

“Mm.” One foot. Two feet. Three--

“Hey. Can you do one more elevator?”

“Sure.”

He accidentally peered over the sides of the bridge before they were done walking; it was a long way down. A very long way. And Bruce wasn’t sure why Tony’s hand was so tight. He’d never grabbed his hand so tightly before. Wait, no. He had. But--

Blinking, Bruce felt his heart rate slow down. The lights were brighter, calming now. “Hm. We’re in a normal elevator.”

“He lives,” Tony crowed. “Astute as always, Dr. Banner.”

“Fuck off,” Bruce said, but not unkindly. The new elevator was similar to the ones at Stark International, from what he could ascertain. Smooth ride. Very, very fast. He was used to these, and found them quite pleasurable. Soothing, even.

“How long was I--”

“A few minutes. Barely enough.”

Bruce’s gaze followed Tony’s arm. “And yet you’re still holding my hand.”

“Am I?” Tony smirked, untangling his fingers from Bruce’s. A bead of sweat formed near Bruce’s temple and dribbled down his neck, joining the other stains from earlier. 

“It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah. But to my credit, you haven’t dissociated like that in...?”

“Years.”

“But not months.”

“No. It’s better now.”

“Which is why I was holding your hand, to ground you.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Tony smiled but didn’t answer before the doors whooshed open. Bruce’s lips parted. People hustled in front of him holding stacks of paper. Phones rang. An admin yelled “please hold, I’ll transfer you” and someone else barked “coming through” while carrying a box of donuts and a jar of coffee. Florescent hums and its ugly glare over a white, gray, black decor. A typical day at the office and typical office workers. Except everyone wore black uniforms. Jumpsuits, really. Which would be less creepy if they didn’t mimic paramilitary organizations.

“Tony, what...Is this--”

Tony left the elevator and crooked a finger towards Bruce. He waited until Bruce joined him before announcing, “Welcome to SHIELD,” and bowing before him like it was some great honor. He could’ve just as well announced “Welcome to Sherwood Forest,” because the result would’ve been the same.

“SH...what?”

“C’mere. I’ll show you around. But stick close to me, yeah?” Tony purposely kept his steps slow as he weaved through the throngs, as if he’d done the very same thing countless times. Bruce’s eyes narrowed. Tony’d known about this place, been here. For a long time.

“Wait. Wait.” Bruce planted his feet, refusing to take another step. The office waltz around him took cues from Bruce’s stance and became quieter, less frenetic. Faces turned his direction and not all were welcoming. “What the hell is this, Tony? I can’t go with you.” He gestured wildly at the underground...lair? Villain’s castle? “Why the fuck am I here?”

Instantly Tony was beside him. Slinging an arm around his shoulders. Grounding him. “Sorry,” he murmured in Bruce’s ear. “Thought you’d break later.” Tony kept talking quietly but Tony’s body steered them from the crowds and towards another corner with less razzle-dazzle. Far less nonsense. 

Tony nodded to a door, off to the side;  the name Tony Stark was on the door.

Tony Stark, Assistant Director of SHIELD.

What?

“Shh,” Tony hushed, because he must’ve said it out loud. “C’mon, I’ll buy you a coffee. Tell you all about it inside.”

And Bruce went in because Tony told him to, and he’d always trusted him to this point. Tony wouldn’t steer him wrong. Couldn’t.

Tony’s arm was still around his shoulder but he somehow kicked open his door, leading Bruce into an office space barely half the size of what he had at SI yet still, somehow, intimidating. There was a small conference table surrounded by high end lounge chairs, abstract art on three walls with a heavy curtain covering the fourth, and a desk surrounded by two-shelf bookcases, straight from an episode of Mad Men.

“Sit,” Tony said, nodding to an overstuffed barrel chair beside one of the bookcases. 

Bruce did. He let out a happy groan as his backside plunged into bliss.

Satisfied, Tony turned to a high-end coffee maker. The room was also big enough for a decent mini bar, of course; Tony opted to rest his coffee maker on the mini bar counter, maybe as a joke. His two favorite things in the world, together. 

Two seconds later Bruce heard a hiss with a steady drip-drip-drip. He watched as a dark liquid titrated into a demitasse. 

Tony slid a saucer beneath the cup. “You still like cioccolotta calda, right?”

Bruce shrugged. “I did when we went to Italy, that one time. You, me, and Rhodey.”

“Well. This will remind you of our trip. Guaranteed.”

Bruce snorted while adapting to everything. The chair hugged him like it was made for his dad bod, and he let himself feel it. Let it pull him out of the red zone, and into the black. When he felt near zero he spied the plush sheepskin rug, several inches deep, surrounded his chair.

“Go on. I know you want to.”

Bruce toed off his shoes and let his socked feet comb through the rug’s fluffy furry goodness. He sighed softly. “Like it was--”

“--made for you?” Tony finished. He handed him the Italian hot chocolate. “Yeah. Kinda the point.”

“Tony--”

“Shit. Wait, don’t drink it yet.”

Bruce sighed again and let his feet flex across the sheepskin. He almost tasted his cocoa despite Tony, but Tony jiggled his hand.

“Sheesh. So goddamn impatient. What did I say?” He dropped a dollop of whipped cream - fresh whipped, it seemed - into Bruce’s cocoa. “Now you can drink it.”

Bruce did, and involuntarily moaned as the flavors danced on his tongue. 

“Yeah? See?” He grinned. “And they said it couldn’t be done.”

“Mm.” Bruce’s tongue darted to the corners of his lips, lapping up every stray drop of chocolate. He finished the cup, quietly placed the cup and saucer on the small bookshelf, folded his hands over his paunch, and let his head drape over the back of the chair. 

Sighing deeply, Bruce closed his eyes. “Will you level with me now? You’re buttering me up for whatever it is. I get it. And I’m as calm as I’ll ever get today, so you might as well spit it out.”

He didn’t get an answer right away, but he didn’t expect to.

“Stop playing games with me.”

“I’m not, I’m...” Tony huffed, and Bruce opened one eye, watching him pace the length of his office. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. That’s all.”

Bruce grunted. “So start with the small things. Like why you have a curtain on a wall with no windows.”

“Who said I don’t have windows?”

“Tony. We’re underground. At least a hundred meters, I imagine, if an operation like this is going on and no one’s noticed. But you have a curtain. Why the hell do you have a curtain, when there’s nothing to goddamn see?”

Tony laughed, probably the most genuine laugh he’d heard from him all day. A full out, head back laugh, and Bruce tiredly lifted his head. “Oh, Brucie,” Tony said. He chuckled a few times. “If that’s all you wanted to know, well. That’s easy.”

He toggled something under his desk - another fucking switch, Bruce thought sharply. He rolled his head over the back of the chair as the curtains slowly parted, not caring in the least for Tony’s “big reveal.”

“I’ve got one of the best views in the world.”

“Sure you do,” Bruce grunted. He rubbed his eyes and slowly sat back up. “What could you possibly have that other rich bas...”

He stopped. Rubbed his eyes. Looked again. Then tripped to his feet and went to the very edge of the window. Tall waterfalls, lush grasses and dense jungle flora and fauna filled his view. The waterfall spilled into a subterranean lake, and from the lake’s current, Bruce guessed a river was in there somewhere, too.  

Eden. No, better than Eden.

“I...it’s beautiful.” Words failed him.

“Yeah, I think so.” Tony shuffled his feet. “I’ve got the best view in the house. I think there might be a few birds to the west of the falls,” he said, nodding to the window. “Dunno how they even got in, but whatever. Mi casa, and all that.”

Bruce gripped the glass, unable to drink it in fast enough. “How?” 

“You’ve heard of Sơn Đoòng cave?”

“Of course.”

“Well Dad found out, and wanted to recreate it. Make it ‘better’ or whatever. Not because he was an environmentalist, though. He wanted to prove he could it. And in America, no less.”

Bruce scowled, tearing away from the idyllic picture. “Stop lying to me. Hang Sơn Đoòng wasn’t discovered before the 90s.”

“Fine, then.” Tony nodded to the scene. “Explain that, Mr. Scientist.”

But Bruce couldn’t. Instead he pretended he wasn’t dreaming, hoped he wasn’t, even though it felt like it. He wanted, very badly, to take a nap somewhere in there. To get completely lost in it. “I can’t help thinking,” he murmured. He splayed his hands over the window, as if purifying his soul. If he could translate the beauty, bottle it, and drink it. He would be absolved. Completely, utterly absolved.

“I can’t help that, despite how beautiful this is, there’s a snake somewhere.” Bruce’s heart crumbled in ways he hoped wouldn’t. God, he could be so, so cynical but he was usually right. It’s what kept him alive so long. “Is this the reason you brought me here? I wish it was, I want it to be. I hope it is. But...it isn’t, is it?”

Tony slowly shook his head and smiled sadly. He dropped his gaze and fixed himself a drink. “Need you for more than the great views, buddy. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to add you to the roster. But we need you.”

Bruce swallowed and let himself view Eden, unspoiled, one last time before biting the apple of truth. “It never runs smooth, does it?”

“Nope.” Tony poured a shot of whiskey and gulped it down. “Never does.”

[tokyotwosome]

England: ”This Earth of Majesty”

7/26/19 - ENGLAND. The mother to the modern world’s business tongue. A country within the United Kingdom within Great Britain and none of us can make any sense of what the heck the difference is. This wondrous place is an island I’d always dreamed of visiting from the first time I picked up The Chronicles of Narnia. Or Pride and Prejudice. Or Harry Potter. The list goes on. From its rich history, its captivating architecture, and the many famous humans that have walked these streets, England is not a country to be missed.

We arrived in London on a Friday evening. The summer in the U.K. is much like Seattle; the sun is fickle and the rain needy. Seeing the countless parks throughout the city, not to mention the luscious greenery throughout the countryside, it’s no wonder it rains so much here. On Saturday morning, we met up with a friend to do a proper tour of the city. For the day, we purchased a “London Pass” which gets you into over 75 attractions as well as access to the Hop on Hop Off bus. We swiftly made our way to the top of the double decker, not caring that the open-roof was a bit damp and paying notice to the “mind your head” signs up the stairs. As we embarked through the city, a man with a microphone prompted us to grab headphones and listen to his countless facts about London. 

Did you know that there are actually two Londons? Greater London refers to the American definition of “London”. This is where the Queen hails and is generally what we think of when referring to London. There is also “The City of London”, a square mile within Greater London that can be easily identified by its dragon statues which guard its borders. The City of London is separately governed, collects separate taxes, enforces separate laws, has their own separate flag, and even elects their own Lord Mayor. Queen Elizabeth isn’t even allowed to enter the City of London without permission from the Lord Mayor. It’s all very scratch-head worthy. 

There’s a laundry list of sites to see in London. There’s Big Ben (currently under construction), Westminster Abbey (filled with famous and infamous corpses), Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Tower Bridge (much cooler than London Bridge), the Churchill War Rooms, Shakespeare’s Globe, and loads more. One would need to devote an entire week to site seeing just to manage it all in. Needless to say, we didn’t get to see everything, but we managed to get some good ones under our belt. 

Our first stop was at the Tower of London, just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Tower Bridge on the north bank of the River Thames (pronounced “Tems”). The Tower of London is less of a tower and more of a series of towers that feel more like medieval grounds from something out of a storybook. Within each tower holds its own treasures and stories. There was original armor, crown jewels, the bloody tower (where two princes were believed to have been killed by their uncle so that he could have the crown for himself), prison cells (where names and images have been carved into walls)...and so much more. You could spend all day at this site alone, but we hurried on off to lunch after building up an appetite..must have been all the murder stories that did it. Speaking of murder - walking across the Tower Bridge, we found the street where many Jack the Ripper scenes were filmed. They even offer evening tours of all his murder spots (a big no thank you from me). 

The food in England is a journey in and of itself. If you ask for pie, don’t expect something sweet. A traditional English-style breakfast consists of toast (seemingly the most important food group), beans, mushrooms and/or tomatoes, an over-easy egg, a hash brown, bacon (which is actually more ham-like), and sausage (tastes more like fake meat to me). We can’t tell you how many times we ate the same English-style breakfast, but it really was quite hearty. Brunch will sometimes include all-you-can-drink. And let’s not forget Sunday roast! Tea was also a staple for most, if not all, of our breakfasts - I like mine with two sugars and milk. In terms of stereotype foods, we didn’t see a crumpet in sight.

While London is a must-see when in England, it’s certainly not the highlight of the country. We rented a car and made our way north, with our final destination being Scotland. We’d arranged to have overnight stays in aribnb’s along the way, taking recommendations from our very own Rick Steves. The street signs were comical, seeing ones like “mind the gap” and “queues likely”. Getting used to the different terminology is a journey of its own. First stop was Stow-on-the-Wold; a quaint little market town with sandy-colored buildings, friendly town folk, and shops around every corner. We still aren’t sure what a Stow or a Wold is, but while we passed through, it was clear why it was a place outsiders wanted to visit. After spending a few days in the city, it was refreshing to be in a small town. We managed to only go down the wrong side of the street towards oncoming traffic once, so that’s a bonus! 

Shortly following our pit-stop to Stow-on-the-Wold, we found our airbnb in a place known as Derbyshire, arriving promptly at 3:00 PM. A woman answered the door and greeted us by saying, “you’re positively punctual”. She sounded like Mary Poppins and I could’ve swore she was about to break out in song next and a bird would likely land delicately on her finger. That was when I really realized we weren’t in Kansas anymore. She took us upstairs to our room in her large, historical cottage. The backyard view reminded me of something out of a Jane Austen novel. I could imagine Mr. Darcy coming to our door by horseback. We had dinner at a local gastropub, just up the street. The server told us about a place to visit the following day, which we promptly agreed we’d do. 

The next morning on our way out of town, we stopped by the recommendation from our server; a nature walk toward an abandoned water mill. During our walk, Rob stopped and asked that I take a picture of him in the grass. At the time, I had no idea why. Turns out he was envisioning a scenic view out of Gladiator and just HAD to reenact it. Making our way down a long drive, we saw a flock of pheasants that we thought were chickens. When we finally did make it to the water mill, we took in the beautiful views and imagined what sorts of things must have taken place throughout history here; a common thought through such a historical place. When we thought there wasn’t a living soul in site, a couple of women on horseback road passed. Such a slow, easy going lifestyle here. 

Our next destination was what is known as the lake district; more specifically, a town called Keswick (pronounced Ke-sick). Keswick was by far our favorite stopping point. It had a German feel with British flavor. Lots of nature, lots of shops, and lots of kind people. This is a popular spot to visit in the summertime for Brits throughout the country. While rain was to be expected, we lucked out for the day we spent there and enjoyed a pleasant nature hike. 

The day following our trip to Keswick, the weather took a turn for the worse. We were so fortunate to have such a beautiful day for our one day spent there. After our time in the lake district, our next stop was Scotland. Truly, Scotland is deserving of its own blog, so stay tuned for that next! Instead, I’m going to fast forward to when we trained back to London. 

We’ve gone full circle and made it back to the city. Our train arrived at Kings Cross Station - so naturally we visited platform 9 3/4. After taking our obligatory Harry Potter photo, we decided to try to squeeze in any last minute sightseeing we may have missed. That’s how we ended up at the Churchill War Rooms. The underground tour is the original housing spot for Churchill and his men during WWII. They have kept the rooms in mostly the same condition with a full audio tour to really envision what it must have been like during the war. Trying to imagine being trapped down there while bombs continued to go off upstairs was a very humbling experience. For me, having been to the war museums in both Pearl Harbor and Okinawa, seeing the war through the British lens was a new perspective. On one of the original maps in the discussion room, you could even see a drawing of Hitler someone had done. A really remarkable site and I would highly recommend to anyone who visits London. Speaking of sights in London, did you know that all museums are free in the UK? That led us to the Natural History Museum! Among other things. 

On 8/3/19, our 5-year wedding anniversary, we decided to treat ourselves to high tea. We had reservations at a delightful little spot in the city. The theme was Peter Rabbit and ohhhh was it good! We had mini-sandwiches, biscuits, jams, and treats to the max. Everything you see was edible, including the flower pots. I don’t think I stopped smiling once. When we had finished, we were stuffed beyond belief. Then the server comes over with a HAPPY ANNIVERSARY dessert. We couldn’t NOT eat it...so we stuffed our little bunny bellies. Another successful wedding anniversary outside of the states - once an accident, now a tradition. <3

If you’re considering a trip to the UK, I’d say go Nike and just do it! Some of our expectations were met and others were shattered, but that’s the joy of travelling. A place is never how you think it’s going to be, but seeking the different is what is exciting. Stay tuned for the next blog where we’ll share our adventures in Scotland - my new crush. Thanks for sticking it out and reading along!  

[smolpyromaniacpirate]

We’re The Weird Ones?!

"There's the apocalypse happening and you're bothered by our relationship? What are your priorities?"

Where the world was invaded by an epidemic that forces people to come back after death, only to eat people. Where three girls struggle to hold their relationship together, though some people prefer to stop their happiness than the apocalypse. They will protect each other, no matter what.

Chapter 1

“No, just pull it like that.” Jamie instructed, his arm uncomfortably wrapped around my waist. He held my hand with his other arm, my finger on the trigger as he held his own on top of mine. Suddenly, I jolted back, the gun firing when Jamie pushed my finger. I didn’t fall due to his body behind me, but I was sure I preferred to fall. “Wow there.” He balanced me with his other arm, and I gave a short grunt.  

“The recoil in this gun is stronger, but” His hand travelled south. “if you straighten your body, you’ll be fine.” I twitched once he started caressing my butt, and shifted away from him quickly in disgust. He scowled at me slightly disappoint before he smiled once again. “Don’t let that get you kid, you’re still a pretty good sharp-shooter!” He clapped his hands together, I glanced away hoping this will be over soon.  

Jamie Rodrigues is a friend of my father’s, and like him they were both great soldier, but Jamie changed so much after serving the country. He didn’t have any family either; my old man was the only friend he had. My father quickly became the sheriff of the town and out of pity, offered a job to Jamie as a deputy. Gosh, how I wish he hadn’t… Jamie became so arrogant afterwards, and since he’s our neighbour, I see him every day. He started being a pervert too, trying to take glances when I changed from my bedroom window. Flirting with me and touching me inappropriately. I wouldn’t doubt if he had photos of me for his ‘happy time’.  

My father doesn’t know about this, since if he did, he would probably murder Jamie in cold blood. Jamie is young, an adult, I’ve told him countless times that I’m not interested, but he’s still fixed on trying to get me. And today, of all days, my father promised he would teach me how to shoot a gun, but he had an emergency at the office and couldn’t make it. Jamie replaced him… orders from my dad.  

I’m scared of Jamie. He’s way bigger than me, in any aspect, and has become quite aggressive after his soldier’s duties. If I stop what he’s doing…? I’m scared of what might happen to me.  

“Jamie. Do you think we can take a break?” I suggested, resting the much larger gun beside the arm-chair. He cackled darkly before opening the beer-freezer. “Of course.” He took two glassy brown bottles out and tossed one to me. “Have a drink.” He offered, plopping down into the arm-chair. A big grin on his face.  

“Jamie… I ca- I’m not old enough to drink.” I turned the bottle, its smell making me scrunch up my nose.  “Nonsense! You’re a woman, drink up!” He encouraged, taking a big swing from his own alcohol. I furrowed my eyebrows and took a sip from it. Quickly, the combination of the taste of the beer and the alcohol hit me, making my throat burn up. I swallowed it in panic and made a gagging noise. “Geez!” I shook my head.  

Jamie just snickered, clapping his knee in exaggeration. “It’s not that bad… but your face was priceless.” He mocked. I glared at him quietly before leaving the beer on top of the freezer. He remained laughing, drinking from his bottle from time to time. I really just wanted this to be over.  

“Uh Jamie. I’ll be back, just need to pee really quick.” I excused myself, using that as a justification to get away from him. He perked up, quite curious. “A-Ah yes. Go in the woods, I’ll wait here for you.” He eyed me up and down and relaxed again. I simply walked away into the bushes and farther, meeting some trees and fallen logs.  

It was getting darker, so maybe it was around 5pm now, which meant we would go home in ten to twenty minutes. But the sun was stubborn, so it was still quite hot. Finally spotting a good spot to sit down and relax, I jumped once a nearby bush shuddered.  Maybe it was just a rabbit, there are quite a few wild animals around these areas. But a taller figure appeared from said bush, a person, a staggering person. Maybe a drunk person…  

“Hello? Can I help you with something?” I advanced, but the man simply groaned in some sort of pain and stumbled forwards. The light hit him in a weird angle and I could immediately see his features. He was pale, even grey, and he had a massive scratch across his cheek. His leg also seemed broken so I sprinted towards the man. He tried to lean towards me, maybe for support, but fell once his leg twisted abnormally.  

“Oh my god, your leg.” I frantically reached for his bloody leg but fear and panic stopped me. I crouched down and glanced behind me. “Jamie! Jamie!” I shouted for his help, but no one replied. This is what running away from your problems does to you. Of course Jamie wouldn’t reply, I probably walked a mile or so.  

The man seemed dizzy as he fought the urge to close his eyes. He’s probably losing a lot of blood! “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to do… Jamie-“ My cry for help was cut short once I yelped, the man forcing himself on top of me, trying to reach for my face with his yellowish mouth. I managed to push him away with the strength that I have, which was surprisingly a lot once the man flew to the ground. Maybe those ‘get in shape’ lessons with my dad were useful after all.  

I stumbled up before staggering away from him. “What’s wrong with you man?! Are you sick or something?” The man crawled desperately towards me, moaning grossly and for a second I felt bad for him. “Don’t worry.” I glanced behind me. “Just wait here, I’ll call my friend, he can help! We’ll call 911.” I tried. But the man kept pushing the dirt with his torn nails, trying to get to me for some unknown reason.  

His leg was bad, he was really losing a lot of blood. He could die for god’s sake! I sighed frustrated and reached for my phone. Maybe I had service from here…  

But my expectations betrayed me, there was zero signal from this crowd of trees. Before I could even do anything, the injured man had already reached me, grabbing my ankle weakly and trying to tear his teeth into it. But Jamie appeared, kicking the man’s head aggressively as the sound of his skull cracking echoed around the forest. And the man remained still, almost like he was dead.  

“Jamie!” My voice cracked in shock and Jamie with no time to think pulled me away from the forest. It seemed I wasn’t actually that far, as I could see Jamie’s truck after a few minutes. Jamie was acting weirder than usual though, he was tidying everything inside his truck in a hurry. That was before I looked around and saw a body on the ground, a pool of blood around it.  

I screamed but Jamie quickly covered my mouth with his sweaty hands. “Wait Ann don’t panic.” He shook me a bit, but my eyes bulged out, still eyeing the corpse in horror. “She- That woman. She bit me!” He uncovered my mouth and showed me his shoulder, a big piece of his flesh missing. It was bleeding like crazy and I held back another shriek, not wanting his hand on my mouth again. He whimpered a bit as he hid the wound with his shirt.  

“She’s crazy! That man you were with was the same. He was going to bite you!” He warned but I simply stared in disbelief at him. He had just committed double murder! And now he was looking for stupid excuses?! “No Jamie! How did you know that?! He was injured, his leg was broken.” I replied, but he growled irritated before digging his nails into my arm. “Did he moan and groan as well?” “Yes but-“ “Did he try reaching for you for some weird reason?” “Yes Jamie-“ “Were his eyes completely white?” At that I stopped. I didn’t know, I really couldn’t see due to his half-lidded eyes. Besides, I was far more worried about his leg. But Jamie only dug his nails deeper, before releasing me and opening the car door.  

“Just get inside. We’re leaving.” He informed me, finally sitting into the driver’s seat and ignite the truck’s engine. I really didn’t have a chance to retort, and I knew it would be dangerous, he was already pretty mad. The small drip of blood from my arm proving that theory right. I shook my head, still in shock, more to myself that anyone before entering the truck in dismay.  

The wheels screeched as Jamie drove recklessly. After leaving the dirt path, we found the road back home. Jamie fumed angrily as he turned the wheel and accelerated his speed. We haven’t seen anyone since we left, no cars were driving past, neither were they parked. It seemed almost like people had left the face of the earth.  

“What is that?” Jamie squinted his eyes farther into the road, his speed never faltering. I peeked at what he was referencing to and saw a smaller figure standing in the road, they weren’t moving away either. “If it’s one of those crazy motherfuckers I’m running it over.” He growled. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to see the figure clearly, and as we got closer by the second I recognized it as a little girl. She immediately saw us and began waving her arms wildly. I couldn’t see her expression so I just thought she might be asking for help.  

But Jamie had other intentions. He never slowed down, he kept accelerating faster and faster towards the girl. “Jamie. What are you doing?” I asked, fearing the answer. “What does it look like? I’m going to run this sick bastard over!” He replied. And we were so near already, I could finally see the girl’s face.  

The face of fear and innocence as she saw Jamie wasn’t slowing down. She hesitated to move away, maybe realizing that it was no use. I screamed for Jamie to stop but he did nothing, I tried pushing him away from the wheel but he stood stronger. Finally, losing my patience, I grasped the wheel before we were mere inches away from her, and turned it sharply to the right. Jamie cursed me and pushed me away. But it was already too late, the truck lost its balance and Jamie couldn’t do much about it.  

He tried redirecting the truck back to the road but it seemed like it had other plans. I saw a tree, it grew closer and the truck met it head on. I felt a sharp tinge of pain and everything turned black.

[bluepunkmon]

Armageddon Blues

My final short story for creative writing class!

 Wherein a musician at the end of her rope tries one last-ditch effort to save her skin.

Rainey had been playing the old guitar for over three hours and her fingers felt like they were seconds away from shriveling up and falling to the sandy floor of the abandoned chapel. This was the longest she’d ever played without stopping. Even with her new, ill-gotten skills, fatigue was starting to creep into her peripheral vision. But she kept playing from her seat in the third pew from the front of the church, the one that looked the least likely to collapse into a pile of thirsty splinters the minute she sat down on it. The quick, mournful notes fluttered through the cracks in the dilapidated ceiling and spiraled into the desert sky above. The was no time for breaks – according to Rainey’s cracked phone screen she’d started playing around 8:30. There wasn’t much time left till midnight, and she’d be literally and figuratively damned if she didn’t give it her all while she still could.

The setup was right, as far as the books she’d checked at the public and college libraries and days of Internet searches at told her. The altar at the front of the chapel had been painted and decorated in countless interesting lines and hoops of symbols, and candles and incense were burning, though that wasn’t enough to beat back the chill of night, which seemed to emanate from the building itself. One might even call the scene a desecration, if anyone still used the one room church.

Maybe it as the song choice that was making this take so long. Rainey had started out playing fragments of music she’d found in the pdf documents online, but maybe an hour into the attempted ceremony her fingers slipped of their own accord into the familiar renditions of song sets, though so hurried and scared she hardly recognized them. By the time she noticed, she was halfway through a 5th play through of Crossroad Blues.

Some invisible pressure buried its claws between her shoulder blades, piercing the parched skin. She looked up, fingers still dancing pleadingly across the guitar strings. There was a lioness lying across the altar. She stared down at Rainey with an air of feline, haughty displeasure.

Rainey finally stopped playing. The chapel fell dead silent, except for the low howling of the wind outside, and the soft sounds of her own breathing, sudden noise of heart beating in her ears. The lioness was huge, though if she was huge for a lion Rainey didn’t know. Maybe it was normal for lions to look like they could your whole head in their mouth with plenty of room leftover to spare. Rainey set her guitar in the seat beside her and moved to the center aisle. The big cat’s amber eyes followed her, but the rest of it stayed still as a statue.

She stood, almost shaking in dirty shoes, pants torn around the hem and a touristy t-shirt that she’d been proud of before but now seemed grossly inadequate for the event at hand. The lioness was looking more impatient by the second. Or, Rainey assumed it was impatience. She’d never had any cats, never been room for them when she lived with her mother the first ten years of her life or in the foster homes and beat down apartments she’d lived in for the next thirteen. She always heard that they liked respect. Didn’t most things? She bowed from the waist

“What the hell do you want.” Sekhmet said flatly. Rainey assumed she was Sekhmet at least, unless the ritual went really pear shaped and she accidentally summoned an entirely unrelated lion goddess.

They were off to a bad start. Still, she’d talked her way into the good graces of angrier people before. Though no one with such sharp teeth.

Rainey straightened from her bow, staring into the lioness’s eyes and not at its mouth, half open in a grimace. “I’ve heard and read stories about you, your beauty, your military prowess, your strength-“

“Flattery?” She said. Or, growled, rather. The lioness’s voice was in her head, but the big cat’s mouth hadn’t moved. “You pester me for hours on end with that noise just for flattery?!”

The lioness snarled so loudly that it shook sand from the ceiling. Rainey flinched back and her hand flew to the threadbare rabbit’s foot chained to her belt. She bit back the reflexive need to argue that her music was not noise.  The candles on the alter were stumps now, burning their last, and midnight stars were shining trough polluted haze of the sky.

“I need to make a deal,” Rainey said.

“No.”

“You’re not even going to hear me out?”

“No,” The cat repeated, “And I’m doing you a favor by not striking you down right now.” She jumped down to the floor, and was definitely not normal lion sized. Sweat started to bead on the back of Rainey’s neck. The broken chapel was growing uncomfortably warm, as if the lioness was radiating something stronger and more efficient than heat that was warming the air. “Why did you even call me? Don’t you have your own gods to help you?” She asked.

“We’re not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.” Commune with the wrong gods once or twice or ten times and suddenly you can’t even go into a church without braking out in hives. It was downright rude. That she found a place of worship that didn’t cause an allergic reaction made her hope this could go off without a hitch, but no such luck it was seeming. (If her mother was still around, she would have blamed it on Rainey never liking to eat black eyed peas on New Year Days. She hated the cloying way they sat on her tongue after she ate them, always skipped over them for pork. She’d doubled down on eating black eyed peas after was in hospital, in hopes that they’d give her luck when she needed it most. They didn’t.)

Sekhmet yawned, flashing canine teeth twice the length of Rainey’s middle fingers. “Unfortunate. But not my problem.”

Now of all times Rainey’s stomach decided to growl, sending a stab of futile hunger through her. She hadn’t eaten before the ceremony, hadn’t eaten the whole day in fact. Food was scarcer than usual in the dry desert that used to be Georgia, and she hadn’t had time to buy or barter for anything. She pushed it to the back of her mind. “You stand to benefit though, more than me even!” She had almost no time left, time to sell it. “No one really worships you now, right? Or at least a lot less people than there used to be. But I can change that before it’s all over.”

The lioness was silent, but she gave Rainey the most skeptical look she’d ever seen from anyone, human, animal, or deity.

“When I play and sing, people listen.” She picked up her guitar for emphasis and strummed a few chords. “I start writing and singing about you, other people start talking, the word spreads. Next thing you know you’re the god on everybody’s minds and lips before we all go under. That’s got to count for something, right?”

She knew it counted for something because Sekhmet’s ears pricked up in interest. She leaned forward and took a whiff of air from Rainey’s direction. “These abilities are from –“

Damn it, she didn’t have time to explain. “Another deal yes, now do you want in or not?” The candles were burning lower and lower, and even as she stared pleadingly at them they snuffed out altogether. The lioness’s soft glow was the only source of light in the chapel.

“It would be in very poor taste if she did agree,” A lilting baritone voice behind her said. Mostly on instinct, she moved closer to Sekhmet and the light and farther from the chapel entrance as goose bumps broke out on her arms.

The first time she met him, at a crossroads on the night of her 18th birthday, he bore more than a passing resemblance to a picture a classmate in third grade had shown her. It was a picture of the classmate’s father, a young heroic looking man in a warm looking jacket, with broad shoulders, dark round aviator glasses, and a crooked nose. Rainey had no pictures or stories of her father, so she imagined her own father to look like him, tall and strong and kind, and once he’d come back he’d pick her and Mamma up in his arms and everything would be okay.

She kept her guard up during the subsequent guitar lessons after their first meeting. She knew what she was getting into, who she was making a deal with. But the entire time he was endlessly, almost unnaturally, kind and patient and welcoming. The thought that maybe he wasn’t so bad seeped into cracks in her defenses like mold. Maybe it would be a good thing, to trade away her soul. The first time she caught herself thinking that, when she was warming up before a show in South Carolina, she ran to the bathroom and retched.

Even when he was only backlit by the weak light outside, Rainey could tell he looked completely different from the last time she’d seen him, both in his physical structure and posture; there was no trace of the paternal airs he’d put on before. He was white now, with thin blond hair and heterochromatic eyes that shone unnaturally in the dark. His suit, business suit instead of an aviator jacket, was untouched by the sand and ground fish bones that blew around outside and soaked into the wood of the chapel and into Rainey’s clothes. A Doberman Pinscher sat at his heels, with cropped knifelike ears and red eyes. It liked its lips, tongue tracing over un-canine, needle-like fangs.

“Long time no see.” Rainey’s voice was almost unintelligibly raspy. Some people, her late mother included, would say she should be all too familiar with this type of predicament. It was a feeling familiar to children when they break an object their parents put on a high shelf and told them not to touch, familiar to students when a test is placed in front of them and they realize they have not studied enough by far, a feeling familiar to an adult who does a double take on when that bill is actually due. It is a feeling and knowledge, deep in your bones, that you are completely screwed. “How’ve you been, Lucifer?”

He smiled, and it did not reach his strange eyes. “I’ve been busy. These are the end times, and people are much more willing to bargain. I can be in multiple places at once and even I’m getting tied of collecting all these payments.” He nodded to Sekhmet in acknowledgement, and the goddess did not indicate that she noticed him at all.

He walked forward like he owned the place, the dog following silently at his heels. “I wanted to follow up on this personally. I haven’t gotten to do a musical deal in a long time.”

Rainey tried to speak. “I-I don’t – “

“Hey now, no getting out of this. I gave you talents with the guitar and five good, fortunate years. Now it’s your turn to pay up.”

“Good? I spent half of it couch surfing and running from cops.”

“You were alive. I call that fortunate.”

In her defense it seemed like a good idea at the time. It’d been her dream as far back as she could remember, and the thought that she could use it to get money and food made it all the better. And it wasn’t like she was using her soul at the time. As things turned out, musical talent, magically inspired or not, was not as reliable as she thought it would be. When it came down to it being a thief often paid better than being a musician.)

Frustration was enough of a kick to ground her, and her words came out clear this time. “I’m not going with you.”

He stopped walking. He didn’t say anything, and his face didn’t change, but the bone-dry air in the chapel did. An almost electrocuting pressure forced the air from the room and Rainey was rooted in place and almost crushed by it. It was magic, or maybe the pure essence of power. It surrounded him like cologne before, though then it was just like a small well of charisma or fate, nothing compared to now.

Just as quickly as it flared up, the wall of force settled, and it was easier to think and more again without overwhelming fear. Sekhmet once again showed no reaction to anything going on before her, and had actual sat down and started to groom herself in Rainey’s peripheral vision. SO this summoning was a bust. Maybe if Rainey’d tried to summon a fallen angel, the rivalry might have been enough for them to take her in.

Lucifer straightened the already prefect edges of his suit. “But, very well. We can have a trial by music if it’ll stop you from making so much noise about it.” He cast a pitying glance at Rainey’s guitar, still half hiding on one of the old church pews. “Thought you’ll need an actual instrument to play with.”

“Hey, don’t you say shit about my guitar!” She yelled it without a second thought, and then desperately tried to backtrack. “Um. What do you even need my soul for, anyway? Maybe I can swap it our for something else, something better. I’ve gotten pretty good at swiping stuff, no thanks to you.”

Agitation was finally beginning to crack his cool. “What I need your soul for is my own business. But if you wish to get out of this, fine. I’ll give you a choice.”

He grinned, and this time it did reach his eyes, and Rainey realized she was probably worse off than she was before.

“You can keep your soul,” he said, “if you give me one in return, to take your place. Name anyone you’ve met in your life, alive or dead, and their soul will be mine. You’ll walk free.”

The dog’s stare bored into Rainey, and Sekhmet had closed her eyes and put her head on her paws, and by all appearances had gone to sleep.

Rainey stroked the coarse fur on her rabbit’s foot, and that centered her somewhat. It didn’t calm her. Nothing could calm her down, not with this. It would condemn someone to death, no, to something worse than death. Was that worth a continued life in a rotten, dying world? No matter what happened Rainey would not get to live out a natural lifespan.

Even as she wrestled with whether she was capable of doing something like that, her mind was already flying through the list of people she knew, people who could possible deserve this. Her absent father? That guy she passed on the street once who yanked on his dogs leash? She starting cataloging the long list of dead people she knew when the image of her mother came to mind. She looked stern and disappointed, like when Rainey had broke a neighbor’s toy when she was a kid and hid it from them for a week rather than admit what happened.

Rainey’s voice rang out clear as a song. “I wont trade anyone. You offered trial by music before, right? Lets go with that.”

Instead of summoning a new guitar, or a band of demons of anything, the king of demons yawned, or pretended to at least.

“I just wanted to see what you would choose,” He said. “Time is short and I’m not going to waste it on concerts.” He flicked his fingers towards her. “Go on.”

The Doberman’s lips pulled back, unveiling an impossible amount of bone yellow teeth, and it sprang into the air. It expanded in flight, folding outwards and upwards until it was more force of malice than any kind of mortal being.

Rainey only had time for fragments of thought, those mainly being: “Oh shit –“, “You bait-and-switch motherfucker –“, and “Will I have hands and fingers in Hell – ?”

But the pain and oblivion she’d been bracing for never came. The shadow halted in midflight frozen by tangible light, something like a solid sunbeam. It was hurled back and away from Rainey and landed hard, wiping out a row of pews in the back of the chapel, sending plumes of dust and wood splinters into the air. It did not rise.

Rainey and Lucifer as one took in the destruction, then turned around to see to where the hit had come from.

Sekhmet was awake now, which was much less surprising than that she wasn’t a lion anymore. She was tall, muscular human with dark skin clothed in faded cargo pants and a white t-shirt. The goddess moved to end of aisle, placing herself between Lucifer and Rainey. “She is sworn to me now.”

Rainey didn’t dare breathe.

“This guitarist has agreed to sing for me and serve me, in exchange for my protection. You did agree, didn’t you?” She asked Rainey without turning her head.

Rainey nodded so hard she might have sprained her neck. “Oh yes yep absolutely.”

The Fallen angel tried to paste on a smile. Behind him, demon coalesced back into a dog shape like a snail l retreating into its shell, and tried to lift itself out of the broken wood planks. The intangible paralyzing force rushed back into the chapel l, soaking air like ions before a thunderstorm. But it didn’t freeze Rainey in place like it did before. “Is she really worth all this?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But she belongs with me now, end of story.”

His eyes flushed solid red and Rainey could swear they were physically burning her. “Giver her to me.”

“No.”

The edges of her vision were tinting gold and the chapel interior was almost scorching. She quickly realized she might get caught up in a fistfight between divinities. Maybe she could sneak out the back unnoticed.

The fallen angel backed down first, the nebulous aura around him subsiding, and he sniffed and looked at Rainey like she were something smeared on the bottom of a designer shoe. “Fine. You can have her for now.”

And just like that he and the dog were gone, as instantaneous as flipping a light switch.

Rainey was lightheaded, both from her sudden reprove and dehydration, probably. She tried to bow to Sekhmet and almost fell over. “Thank you, so much.”

She lifted her head to see Sekhmet smiling in a not-particularly-pleasant way. They were smaller but she still had lion teeth. “Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “You’ve still got a lot of work to do for me. It’s best for you to focus on the task at hand.”

“Right.” But even now she didn’t know when to let things go. “But what made you want to help me?”

Sekhmet blinked up at her, not down, and she was a lioness again. Rainey wasn’t sure how she missed that. “My reasons are my own,” the goddess said, and Rainey wondered if all divinities were this frustratingly evasive, or these two were just the exception.

She stalked toward the chapel exits, door hanging broken on one hinge, and Rainey followed like a magnet pulled her, across the floor and out the door. “I’ll give you one, however; he lied to you. Your power does not come from him.”

“Wait, what?”

but she was watching the stars, apparently done with the conversation. The night air was mitigated by Sekhmet’s warmth. By now Rainey was realizing it wasn’t just literally heat, though that was also very nice – it was determination and daring and pure distilled vitality, and she basked in it as she watched the dark sky alongside her new patron.

The moment was unceremoniously shattered when Sekhmet let out an eardrum-shattering roar that Rainey felt rattle through her chest and bones. Her hands flew to her ears. They were ringing so much afterward she barely heard herself tell Sekhmet to give her a little warning the next time she did that, would you?

“I called an escort for you,” Sekhmet said. “They’ll stay with you tonight, then walk with you through the desert back to humanity tomorrow. Once you’re fed and watered we can discuss the contract further. Goodbye for now, Rainey.”

She picked up most of that though her still ringing ears. She wanted to keep pressing and ask what Sekhmet meant about her power, but the goddess was gone, with not a trace to show she was ever there or that the entire debacle hadn’t been a product of Rainey’s overstressed malnourished imagination.

She almost turned back inside when shaped began to materialize in the night, blurs more blue than black with faint traces of yellow around the edges. She stayed, and watched, because she doubted that her night could get any stranger or more dangerous by this point.

The shapes grew and sharpened, distinguishing themselves from one blurry mass, until five lionesses stood before Rainey. They were large, though not so large as Sekhmet had been, and were indigo like the night with golden eyes and speckles of flashing gold along their feet, backs, and flanks like stars. The one in the center of the formation held a bottle of water delicately in its teeth, and the lioness to its left held a bag of what looked like food.

She didn’t know what they were waiting for. “Um. Hello?”

That seemed to be the right cue. One by one the pride wound their way around Rainey, winding past her legs and waist and brushing her with their heads like giant housecats, and each time they nearly bowled her over into the sand.

The odd precession returned to the chapel, where the guitarist settled into a makeshift bed of magical big cats. It was wonderfully warm, if a bit pungent. She downed the water and practically inhaled what turned out to be beef jerky. After eating she played Wandering Blues on a her guitar, which had miraculously escaped any damage in the near-altercation between Sekhmet and Lucifer, and tried to ignore the sensation that something was watching her from above, or maybe below. When she finished the song, she put the guitar as outside the circle of lions as she could, and one of them, the one that’d given her the beef jerky that shed been calling Leona, licked at Rainey’s arm almost painfully with a huge sandpaper tongue. Rainey scratched the top of her head in return. “At least somebody knows how to be an appreciative audience.”

[lilydoughball]

What seems like 2 seconds ago (but was actually the weekend before last – eek!), we packed up our bags and travelled into deepest darkest Dorset, to attend End of the Road festival at beautiful Larmer Tree Gardens. I feel well and truly spoilt by this summer, it really has been a good ‘un; we didn’t attend any festivals last year, and this year we got to go to two! After Glastonbury and my trip to Padstow I feel like I am really getting used to this camping malarkey, and couldn’t wait to crack the tent out again and set up home at EOTR.

As soon as we arrived and started exploring End of the Road we began drawing comparisons to Glastonbury, and soon decided that it was just all the nicest bits, condensed. EOTR is a relatively young festival – it celebrates its 10th year next year – and as such has retained the charm and energy of creating something awesome and new, and in a much more relaxed and friendly atmosphere. The whole site is really small as well, meaning you can get from one side to the other in about 10 or 15 minutes, and I’ve heard the organisers purposely keep ticket numbers low, which means you never feel crowded.

Don’t get me wrong – Glasto is an experience, but its like the wise old (slightly eccentric) uncle of festivals now, with its sprawling fields and mechanical spiders and ribbon towers and rabbit holes, and its nice to give the support to the smaller guys. End of the Road is like Glastonbury’s cool, bearded, bespectacled nephew, who has cherry picked the best eateries, drinks fantastic local ales, likes hanging out in Victorian gardens, and has exceptional taste in music.

One of the reasons we chose End of the Road was because the lineup was absolutely outstanding – John Grant, Tune-Yards, Richard Thompson, Ezra Furman, Sweet Baboo to name but a few. It was as if someone had given me a pen and asked me to write down my favourite artists of the moment, then curated a festival around that (I wish!). Of course, I worship at the altar which is 6 Music, as all good people should, and was amazed at how many other acts I knew simply from humming along to their tunes on the radio.

The whole site, it seemed, was filled with the 6 Music demographic – the collective age of EOTR seemed to be slightly older than other festivals I have visited (I’m thinking of Reading here, when I say older I mean my age and upwards), and I was pleasantly surprised at how many young families with small children there were. This only added to the lovely atmosphere, and coupled with the amazing setting, the incredible food on offer, and the very reasonable price of ale at the bar, created a home-from-home feel to the proceedings.

I didn’t dare take my SLR for fear of dropping it in a toilet or it getting trampled or something, so I took a chance on my Lomo Smena, which I hadn’t used for a few years! I’m amazed that these photos actually turned out, but I took a few on my phone just in case…

I cannot tell you how good the food was. One of the nicest things about modern festivals is that you don’t have to eat cheap crap sausages or burgers or those giant yorkshire puddings which set you back about £8, there is an amazing selection of proper decent grub on offer, and EOTR was no exception. The above pancake bar did the best coffee I have ever tasted (and had the queue to prove it at 9am!) and the rotisserie next door could do you half a roasted chicken plus a mountain of little roast potatoes for £7. The ice cream was awesome too – I had peanut butter ice cream with hot fudge, and had to give up half way through which I was quite upset about. Props also go to the Rac Shack, who did exceptional croque monsieurs and a fancy bacon and cheese breakfast sandwich which sorted me right out on Saturday morning.

One of the best things about End of the Road, as well as the countless tasty snacks, the excellent music line up, and the beautiful gardens it was situated in, were all the whimsical touches dotted around the festival. The trees along the woodland path were filled with fairy lights, balloons and little creatures, there were sculptures made out of hay, messages cut into leaves and a giant Walkman named after one of Hollywood’s finest. My favourite festival nuance had to be the Secret Post Office – chaps and chapettes in blue shirts, red bow ties and braces who could deliver your hand-crafted, hand-written, hand-glittered note to anyone on the festival site, provided you provide an accurate description of the recipient. We sent one to the guy in the massive orange tent camped next to us who played soothing music on his guitar in the morning, and were very excited when we spotted him walking around the festival with it poking out of his top pocket!

Another highlight of the weekend was after watching John Grant on the Saturday evening, when we ventured into the deepest part of the woods towards the Comedy stage, to watch the 80s children’s TV show-inspired spectacle that is Knightmare Live. It was one of the most surreal things I have ever experienced – standing on a steep slope in the woods at 1am watching drunken audience members don a helmet and shuffle around the stage directed by a man in a pretty impressive cape and full face paint. Halfway through the giddy drunken enjoyment things got slightly serious, and one of the performers had the terrible duty of informing us that we were simply having too much fun, and one of the neighbours had complained that we were making too much noise. Obviously this was met with cheers from the audience, to which we were told to proceed with 100% enthusiasm, but 78% volume. It was brilliant. Their stage show looks pretty hilarious, too!

All in all, we had such an amazing weekend, and were incredibly sad when we had to pack up our tent in the rain and head back home. We are definitely buying tickets for next year, especially if its packed full with all the secret post, woodland creatures and adventurers as it was this year. I’m probably going to do another festival as well, if you’ve got any suggestions I’d love to hear them!