#and i think that exclusively around eachother they do speak out loud more than they ever would with other people

[skl-moved]

it's really interesting to me when people write Wild being one of the few if not the only Link to use sign language and him feeling alienated because of it...when i feel one of the things that connects all the Links to one another the most besides the whole chosen hero thing is mutism

[nuclearbuzz]

Ghoul!Oikawa x Reader - He just fucking kills you, that’s the plot.

Authors Note: So this one is a bit of a yikes, may or may not have written it exclusively because of peer pressure from amino friends. May suck but it’s a fun time nonetheless. 

________________________________________________________

Oikawa stood patiently as you finished putting your things away. You frantically tried to hurry - shoving textbooks back into your book bag almost carelessly.

“You can go on ahead, I’d hate to make you wait.” You remarked, voice laced with stress.

“No it’s fine, - I’d rather wait for you! It’s kind of late and they say it’s better to walk in groups right?” Oikawa replied, flashing a too kind smiling. You would have hated to say it but he was right, and you couldn’t help be reassured by his expression.

“Oh - Okay then!” You said, maybe a bit too excitedly. Slinging you backpack over your shoulders and soon enough you were both making your way out of the library.

You hadn’t noticed how dark it actually was - the cold autumn breeze that passed by acted as a reminder that the days didn’t linger as long as they had these past few months.

The two of you made your way down the street in relative silence, like you had been doing every Saturday for the past few weeks.  (Always has to be a weekend, it was too hard to find time in between your schedule and his practices otherwise.) You had gotten comfortable with this routine, always finding it lucky to live in the same direction as Oikawa. Your walks weren’t as lonely. Even if the conversation waned from time to time. It was bound to happen, with how much you’d talked in the library. There was only so much to say to someone, even if that someone was Oikawa who loved to talk more than anyone you knew. 

But today the momentary silence didn’t feel as comfortable - it was almost harsh.

“I can’t wait to get home.” You first make the attempt to break the silence.

“So, what’re you going to do when you get home? - Since you’re excited I mean.” Oikawa asks, doing his best interpretation of small talk. Maybe the awkward feeling had been mutual. Though his question still takes you by surprise.

“Probably straight to bed to be honest, I’m just tired. Maybe dinner too  but I’m not really hungry.” You stopped yourself - feeling like you’d rambled on a bit too long.

“Ah, good for you. I’m kinda starving though.” He muttered - almost jokingly.

You just chuckled a little, thinking nothing of it. You felt at ease, even in the night. With someone beside you and a slew of people walking nearby.

“Anyways - I really need to thank you for helping me.” You added.

“It’s no problem, I like studying with you.” He added as a response. Smiling cheekily at you.

“No really, Oikawa-San, if it wasn’t for you, I’d probably have failed half my classes by now.” You laughed to yourself, though feeling the awkwardness of your remark sit in the air. It was probably true, so it didn’t really matter.

You kept silent for a beat too long after that. Not really knowing what to say. Maybe you shouldn’t say anything - Oikawa was your upperclassmen after all. If he wanted to stop talking, who were you to continue a conversation?

Yet the time he’d spent with you, was something You cherished and there were still a lot of things that you did want to say.

Lost in thought, You don’t notice that the streets around have less and less people.

“— So if you ever need help or a favor, or anything. Feel free to ask me. “ You say on instinct, not fully processing that those words came out of your mouth. But you can feel your face growing warm.

Oikawa stops in his tracks, and turns around to look at you. You hold your breath for a second. 

He scratches the back of his head nervously. “Well, actually - there is something you could do for me.”

Oikawa’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But you don’t notice, too caught up in the moment to see or even care. Heart racing and you returns the expression - more genuinely. “Anything.” You say, a bit too without hesitation.

“Um, its just that -“ Oikawa pauses his shoulders shaking a few times, he’s trying not to laugh. To you, there was just something strange about how Oikawa was acting all of a sudden. But then again, it could have just been your imagination.

He continues, regaining his senses. “Sorry, I’m kinda nervous. “ He excuses himself. “It’s just that, I kinda like you a lot. And I - I wanna spend more time with you.” He stops again, looking down.

You just stood there shocked for a moment. Oikawa was full of surprises today apparently. If you were expecting anything it definitely wasnt that. You’d seen him be outwardly flirtatious with people but never vulnerable? You felt your lip quiver and heart skip a beat. To be entirely honest you’ve always liked him a bit, maybe in the way that talking to him left butterflies in your stomach. Even if you wouldn’t have admit it otherwise - not with how you knew how many other people liked him. 

“I-“ you start, but don’t know what to say. You’d never been subject to a confession before. Especially not from someone like him.

“So if you want to do me a favor.....saying yes would be nice.” Oikawa jokes. You’re certain you can see his cheeks turn pink, or maybe you’re just subconsciously imposing your own expression onto him. “But if you don’t want to - that’s cool too.” He adds because of your hesitation.

“I’d love to sometime!” You finally manage to sputter out. Though you haven’t really gotten around to processing anything that’s happened.

Oikawa practically glows at the retort and you continue your walk home.

Somewhere along the line you find your hand slipping into his. You still don’t speak as much as normal while you walk. But you likes how warm his palm feels against yours. You doesn’t really believe what’s happening. The past few minutes have been like walking on air.

At some point, you both find yourselves at the street where you have to part ways with Oikawa. Feeling a twinge of sadness that you can’t spend more time with him today.

“So, um.” You begin, struggling to put the right words together in a sentence. “This has all been kind of crazy to me - I never really dreamed that something, like today would happen. But I’ve always thought you’re so kind, and your smile is so nice.” You stop again. If it’s even possible, you’re sure your face is redder than it was before.

“And I’d really love to spend some time together - like you said.” You finally finish.

Oikawa’s smile is a thin line, but his gaze is heavy on you. “You know, Y/N-Chan. Thinking of you, it always makes me drool.”

Wait, what?

You honestly don’t know how to respond to that, standing there a moment awestruck. Still holding hands with Oikawa, you haven’t fully processed what exactly he said. But you just shook your head shrugging off his weird behavior. Everyone had their own way of saying things, after all. His just so happened to be kinda off-putting.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” You says finally. You look at eachother in silence for a beat longer. Though it’s one you can’t quite place the nature of yet.

You don’t notice how his hold on your hand gets tighter until it hurts. You instinctively try to pull away. And that’s when —

That’s when you feels yourself moving. Or rather, you feel everything moving around you.

Then your back slams into a wall. Feeling all the air get knocked out of your lungs, then sharp pain shoot up your spine. Almost like Oikawa slung you into the wall. - why did he

How did he?

Oikawa turns to face you. But you couldn't see his eyes, covered by his hair as his shoulders shook - like before. And then he laughed. He laughed like a madman.

And laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

You stared, an icy shiver running down your spine, heartbeat faltering for a second, only to come back faster than ever, echoing loudly in your ears.

“You’re a - you’re a ghoul.” You say out loud, lips trembling. You can barely believe what your saying. All your life, ghouls has only been things you’d heard about on the news, in warnings and whispers between class. You could never imagine that —

"I got myself a smart one, didn't I?" Oikawa exclaims, almost mocking. He straightens up to face you. This time however, you could see his eyes.

They were nothing like the warm brown hues you had admired all this time. Now his eyes bordered on demonic, small red irises baring into your soul - filling you with dread.

Never in your life had you been so hopeful to be wrong. You wished that maybe everything was a misunderstanding, that you was hallucinating. Maybe even that the person infront of you wasn’t Oikawa.

In a brief second, you saw a colorful blur whiz by, only now realizing that it was just the beginning of a night you might not even survive.

So you pushed past Oikawa.

And ran, and ran, and ran.

You don’t look back, not wanting to know what you should expect. Like most, your knowledge on ghouls is limited. But more importantly- you don’t want to look back. You don’t want to see him as a ghoul. You don’t want to believe the man you trusted - the man who told you that he loved you. You don’t want to believe that Oikawa Tooru wants to kill you.

But you’re forced to look. The cruel truth being - running couldn't save you.

A sharp pain stabbed right through your shoulder. So much so, you barely processed the scream that tore its way out of your throat, echoing across the surrounding area, in sync with the sound of droplets of blood splattering onto the ground.

And It hurt. It hurt so badly. You never felt pain like this before. And worse, you  feared soon you wouldn't be able to feel at all.

The pain increased when the tendril stabbed through your shoulder yanked you back, body landing roughly, back slamming against the wall, only making you cry out in pain again.

Vision blurring on impact, yet you could still make out the person- no, the creature slowly making its way towards you. His face was just a blob of color until he knelt before your trembling frame, eyeing you with a warped smile.

Beside his foot, you could see the backpack you’d had been carrying, now discarded on the ground, all your belongings scattered about in an ugly mess. - The work that an hour before Oikawa had helped you with, as if he didn’t know you wouldn’t live to turn it in.

He opened his mouth to speak, yet you ignored him, desperately reaching out for the small ballpoint pen beside your outstretched arm, as its clear barrel went in and out of focus.

Oikawa stopped and watched you with a simple curiosity, like a child laughing at the insect it held captive, knowing it couldn’t escape. And Still, he mocked your desperation out loud.

"What do you think you're doing? Sorry but, a pen won’t help you. Unless you want to stab yourself with it? But I really don't feel like giving you that satisfaction." You still don’t look at him.

At this point it’s clear he doesn’t see you as anything but food.

Pen grasped loosely in a trembling hand, your eyes shift to that tentacle looking thing beside you, much like the one still stabbed through your own body.

"Oh?" Oikawa spoke again, tone still mocking. “You want to stab my kagune? Go ahead, try it."

You didn’t know what to do, backed into a corner - literally. And maybe  he was right and it wouldn’t work. And maybe you couldn’t hope to pierce it with a bullet, let alone a pen. But You had to try. You had to do something, anything.

Or else you were just resigning yourself to death.

You thrust the pen into the tendril thing with as much force as you could muster. Watching it bend and snap before your own eyes.

And that was it.

Game over.

Oikawa almost doubled over laughing. “I’ve gotta hand it to you Y/N-Chan. You’re the funniest I’ve had in a while.” He says, trying to catch his breath. “But I guess it’s my turn now.”

You yelped in pain before you could even process what was happening. Feeling a piercing in your gut, it almost made you retch - as the second tentacle like appendage stabbed into you. It only got worse when Oikawa pulled his Kagune back out of your gut. Or the brutalized, gaping hole it used to be.

You screamed out for help while watching the man in front of you leverage the bloody appendage over his face. Waiting as drops of your blood dripped into his open mouth.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment.

You didn’t want to process what was happening, You didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that the man you trusted wouldn’t hesitate to lick the blood from your veins.

You didn’t want to process the pain, and how you were struggling to breath. You wanted to run away again but you were still pinned to the wall. You wanted to scream for help but every time you opened your mouth, you could feel the coppery taste of your own blood. You would suffocate in it.

“You taste good Y/N-Chan.” Oikawa said finally, sporting that good natured smile you’d seen so often grace his lips. How he could still make it look genuine when his face was peppered red was beyond your knowledge.

“Please -“

Oikawa moved foreword and you gasped. He made the motion to pull you close - almost possessively. He buried his face into the space between your neck and shoulder. Feeling teeth graze your skin lightly. Before everything burned like fire as Oikawa pushed his head hard enough for those teeth to sink into your skin. 

You felt a shriek escape your mouth. Though it sounded gurgled with that iron in your throat.

Your eyes shut tight to feel Oikawa pull back with so much force the mouthful of meat from your left shoulder. You felt lightheaded, but screamed as he bit deep into your shoulder again. It felt like your arm was ready to fall off. The more you tried to move your neck, to push him away. - the more it felt as though your lifeforce was seeping out of you. It was terrible.

“Please don’t kill me” you wept.

Oikawa pulled away again, more gingerly this time. The hunger in his eyes had been replaced with his conscious mind. The look he gave you was pitying, but amusement still flickered in his expression. He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Please don’t sta-“ he started.

“W-what about what you said earlier! You said you wanted to spend time together.“ You pleaded in between coughing up blood. Feeling like you were rambling, and could barely process any pain - or feeling at all.

Oikawa stared at you, processing the fact you could still speak in full sentences. He smirked, hand reaching out to cup your chin. “You’re so hard to resist, Y/N-chan. Covered in blood, sitting there all innocent like you don’t know you’re gonna die.”

Oikawa’s hand moved to your neck, using it as leverage to bring your face closer to his own. You felt unable to push him away.

“I do want to spend time with you. I want to spend the rest of your life with you.” He whispered into your ear. For some reason that wasn’t very comforting. 

Oikawa’s tongue darted out, pressing to your chin licking at the blood that had gathered there, lapping up the blood that had gathered around your mouth.

He lowered his lips to your neck, licking up the blood that had dribbled down there too, causing you to hitch her breath beneath the touch. You cried out in pain at the close contact with where Oikawa had shredded your shoulder.

Oikawa stopped, leaning back for more, He cupped your chin again and pressed his lips firmly against yours, the tangy taste of blood very present in your mouth. His tongue entered the your mouth, swirling around and gathering the as much of the blood your mouth drowned in.

Despite everything, You still felt yourself blush and you hated yourself for it. Wanting to cry, because even now. When you were going to die. Your heart betrayed you. It still didn’t want to believe Oikawa would kill you.

“You mean a lot to me, Y/N-Chan. I can’t tell you how appetizing you’ve looked since the first time I saw you. That’s why-“ He paused. “I think I’m just going to devour you. How does being ripped apart sound?”

You wanted to move, but couldn’t find the energy to do so. Everything hurt too much, and you felt the corners of her vision start to darken. A cry rattled in your throat.

Oikawa grabbed onto your wrist. As much as you tried to keep it away, his grip was steel. You couldn’t help but notice how he spent a few seconds examining the arm he held greedily. It made you want to throw up. “What even am I to you?” You finally found the strength to ask. Whether out of fear or bitter resolve, you weren’t sure.

Locking eyes for a moment. Oikawa tilted his head and smiled apathetically. “You’re just meat.”

You felt a sharp pain and a sickening crack before everything went dark.

[alchemisland]

The Moors Mutt - I

Part II coming on Tuesday!

I. Old Stone

The beast I knew only in folkloric snippets. Hedge whispers perverting history to arcana through time immemorial. Perhaps too I had known it in nightmares, shapeless until named, becoming then familiar as a bedchamber.

It was grim autumn when that fateful letter arrived, setting in motion a chain of events both strange and unlikely. In retrospect, that a series of vignettes so bizarre could start with the simple act of a posted letter seemed comical.

The letter landed with a thud, dubbing me sole executor of the late Lady Renton Sizemore's last will, a grim charge requiring a trip to her wicked home, listed in the Briarscombe country house register as the third most bloodstained holding in England.

Dislike isn't the word. Lady Sizemore and I got on famously when last we spoke, thirty years ago. I wasn't the doting schoolboy turned dribbling manchild spending Saturday nights at bingo. Neither was she the elderly relation procuring coins from behind ears to the delight of the youngers.

We were not eachother's keeper. Why I was suddenly favoured for this sensitive task that required more mental finesse than anyone in the family gave me credit for out loud, puzzled me greatly. Somebody must have annoyed her at one of her events. Sandwich gala on the Pringle Estate destroyed by careless nephew's untucked shirt. In true family style, whatever infuriated her she took to the grave.

Once the money was apportioned, I was to ensure no stone went unturned, apt phrasing given its namesake. Cairn Cottage stood oppressively atop the mound some two hundred winters, a plundered megalith shielding against the bracing gales.

Up there the flowers bloomed blighted, grass grew sideways and only the sturdiest roots survived. Without the megalith's girth, perhaps those winds might have toppled the twisted demesne, but she held firm now as old.

Mystics, druids and spiritualists alike extolled the house's phantasmic virtues. Fringe groups scrambled to reserve exclusive use of the land for Candlemas ceremonies. Lady Sizemore didn't care, provided she was soundly remunerated.

Rumours abounded of hauntings, anomalies occurring on the land by midnight's trickery.

Upon receipt of instruction, I spurred my carriage toward Cairn Cottage, the house in whose shadow no local walked without rosaries.

Although my visit was primarily administrative, there was another matter pertinent to my interests. One muttering which above all others inspired fear. A cautionary tale warning children from the grounds by night. And sometimes, on cold and lonely nights, a brave man wandering alone might see fit to take the longer road home.

Worse than druids, they said a beast lived on the Moor. A hulking creature, whose snarling teeth bared in fullness of dark glowed like spears of starlight, whose stark brightness was dulled only by the gleaming viscera of previous engagements clinging in ragged flaps.

However the rumour started, it long sprouted legs of its own, more exciting with each recounting.

No smoke without fire. I intended to find the single primal ember, the lone truthful element, stripped of frill and frock, fancy and folly, bereft of myth, or loyalty to tradition. Was there something in the fields by night? Was it dangerous?

First came Sperrin, a grizzly hamlet outside the estate's confines. For a penny, a local lad promised to find a suitable nook for the trap. I visited the sole watering hole, a squalid cellar named Lar's. The tavern itself was not charmless, offering average vintage for below average prices, warmth, music, rustic flattery and inimitably, whispers of the beast.

The tavern's proprietor Lar was a man out of time. With his arms folded across his simian chest and those big lugs like trophy handles either side of his substantial forehead, he could have easily passed for a saxon chieftain. He stood astride the bar against a backdrop of coloured bottles. Immediately upon entering his eyes set upon me with great intensity. Unlike the merry keep of fireside tales, he offered no warmth in greeting. That you were found fit to sit his barstool was kindness enough.

Inebriates remained nursing drams, glowering at their respective lecterns. Occasionally I'd catch one staring at me, then turn away as I waved. After a while sitting and sipping, making a game of catching their nosy glances, I signalled Lar's attention. 'This is probably going to sound strange. Probably because it is. Hear me out though. Have you ever heard or seen anything strange out on the moor?'

Widened like an owl, Lar's right eye scanned me once, twice, three times before he moved a muscle. 'Have in fact. Not now though. Too many around. Later.' His lips barely moved. I tipped my nose.

Nearer closing, he poured a cup and sat, remaining on the business side of the bar.

'The beast, you say?' He leaned in close, one eyebrow raised, its shape the arching rod of a hooked line. 'I could tell you a thing or two about the beast alright.'

'Prithee speak, my curiosity is burning. I won't rest a wink until it's satiated. Tourist talk aside, do you believe, as men do God, a beast prowls these forests?' I inched forward, as if by closer proximity, the truths would be truer.

'Regular Theseus, eh? Monster hunters, we have had plenty. Lovers of darkness too. Students of forbidden arts. All are served here. Kings and paupers alike. Did you come all this way to hear me say that?' Lar spoke with great confidence. The manner of his prattling meant the tales he told were true, or this was practiced.

'No.' I replied, 'I have business in the cottage. My heart though, she belongs to this creature. I am not a quack, nor a holder of séances. I am not a man of low learning on the hunt for falsehoods. I am a lover of stories. Pray, continue your captivating narrative.'

He continued, 'Let it be said I was coaxed. You wanted this.'

In this ominous portent he let slip a mask of deft craft. There was artifice in his smile, a cheshire grin that touched either cheekbone. A whispered suggestion of hidden intent.

Everything made sense. Was I seeing clearly? More than ever. I saw his ruse; city boy down for the day, take him for a ride, tell him the usual stories. A pal of his will burst in at just the right time, scare me half to death, then they'll take me to the supposed hot-spot for the low price of everything I've got. Lar took me for a lettuce. Something in his warning tipped me. A little over-arch. If his performance was not theatre, then Shakespeare never wrote.

Doubtless once finished, Lar would proffer some overpriced talisman no fellwalker could risk refusing.

'Enough pussyfooting. Spill it. I'll need all the advice I can get.' Like a drill tip, I pressed my index finger into the bar.

'No matter what image I conjure in your mind's eye, the beast is yet more ferocious and terrible in the flesh. It's the great unreality of it.' He tapped his forehead. 'Your mind doubts what it's seeing, unable to comprehend its stimulus. Brave men are made mice in its shadow.'

'What evidence have you of such a creature?' I asked, draining my tankard. He did the same, then wiped the amber residue on the back of his hand. He looked me over once, as if to ask who I was to question. I returned a withering gaze, maneuvering my features to convey a similar message. For a moment the air felt charged with kinetic possibility. As when two pugilists circle to begin a contest, lead hands pawing. Neither of us wished to be responsible for qualms.

He broke the armistice. 'Evidence? If you didn't think it weren't here, you wouldn't have come. If you believed in your heart this week you'd be contending with a monster, you'd have stayed at home in your jams.'

'Nonsense, man! You forget I am summoned, not here of my own volition.'

'We, each of us, tell ourselves sweet little lies to justify how our limited time is spent. I have a right mind to think if the lady yet lived, you and I might still have met. On a yawning stretch such as this, arriving as you have: alone and curious. If there's one thing I can't respect, it's a self hating believer. Swanning around with all the cynicism of a non-believer, clad in the robes of an adherent, so that when the hobby is proved spurious you can point to your skepticism. You'd be first to the papers tomorrow if scientists verified the beast's existence, how you had journeyed and studied on your own dime to further the science.' Lar pursed his lips, knowing he'd cut me to the quick, vanished was his earlier reticence.

I hated how right he was. I was exactly this sort. Insulting people who believed the same things as me. First to refuse to enter a haunted house for fear a demon might take my soul.

I'd never concede his point though. I riposted, 'Few are more loathed than the opinionated barman. You speak much too readily. Do so again, I'll see your manners are checked for the next weary traveler willing to pay good coin.'

Lar's eyes lit, bulging with imagined riches. 'Let me fill your drink, sir. I meant no offence. We speak freely here. Manners soften. Soon one finds truths cannot be digested unperfumed. Here in the wilds, it's a duty to voice quarrel. Far from crown and court, unaired anger festers.' Lar gladly dispensed his pearls of rural wisdom as if they were sweets from a bulging striped bag.

'Really, man. Every idea can be made ridiculous if extrapolated to that degree. Manners take the edge off. I'm not offended by your candor. I intend to find the creature, if such exists. Have you no doubt about that.' I watched him pull another drink.

The returned tankard was too full to raise without spilling. I slurped loudly, head bowed. Like a pulled plug, half the liquid gone in a single gulp.

'What evidence is sufficient? Look around you.' Lar held aloft his hands, urging me toward his empty business, still cast in a sickly light from the last flickering sentinels.

He pointed toward the empty seats. A single patron remained hidden in the shadows. A local by his boots.

'We did a roaring trade before that bloody woman inherited the place. Once she came, the trade died. When I was a lad, that land was free to roam. No walls. She had them built to spite us. Worse rumours too and all, that she built those walls to house it.'

'It?' I asked

'It. The beast.' Lar's voice lowered to a whisper. 'A cage for a pet beyond control. That's your sort all over. Dabbling where you shouldn't.'

'Her sort.' I corrected, 'I'm not aristocratic. You're a presumptuous sort, you know.'

'Believe you're not the first to say. Her sort, whatever pleases. I don't subscribe to this theory. Me personally, I think it came from hell. One thing's for certain, it got worse when they shifted the cairn.'

'You say you have seen it?' Part of me thought I was the one stringing him along, but another more gullible me firmly believed, or wanted to believe, that he had seen something. Hoping not to seem needy, I drew myself close to him, the bar still between us, 'With your own eyes if you saw it, you must swear it now. Did you see it as I see you now, or as one sees the distant stars and erroneously assumes knowledge.'

'As I stand before you.' Lar gestured to his stained apron, which he then removed and hung on a hook overhead. He nodded to the barfly, who stumbled from his seat and shot the bolt across the lock, an angry black mechanism like a bas-relief, which clanked against the timber as he let it fall. 'That's Fergus.'

Fergus lurched over. One leg trailed behind him. I couldn't help imagining him as a gothic manservant, dragging corpses to the laboratory in pursuit of higher knowledge. He came to stand beside me. There were giants on the earth is those days. Though our eyes observed the same setpieces, his countenance betrayed little comprehension. He had the chiseled jaw of a marble bust in profile, but his mouth hung open permanently, moist lips pursed like a fish.

He placed an enormous hand on my shoulder. Such space was permitted between his splayed fingers that ten legions abreast might find passage unmolested. His knuckles protruded unnaturally, evidence of labour, something harder than masonry or smithcraft. Mayhaps soldiering overseas.

I stared at his hand. He never looked at me. I coughed, first mannerly, then more harshly, thinking to approach cautiously lest my assumption prove provident, that he had lost his sound during foreign campaigns, of whose spoils we all were beneficiaries.

'Don't mind him.' Lar said. He spoke softly in the presence of his friend, observing his movements closely, ready to interject with a steadying hand or a warning to the cruelly curious. I wondered were they brothers. They bore little resemblance, though stranger things I had heard. Lar took Fergus' wrist and pressed gently, disturbing the folds of his motheaten jacket. They shared a moment I could but observe, radiating warmth and glad tidings in a wordless wave.

'I mean not to speak boldly, and lash me with spite if I transgress overmuch, but I must know or I should forever wonder, are you kin?'

Fergus shared Lar's laugh with the same look of bemused ignorance.

'You hear that? Fancy man reckons we're brothers. Probly thinks we're all related down this end, and not in a godly way.' Lar laughed, a viking bellow.

Lar released his grip and the folds of Fergus' sleeve righted themselves. He spoke several octaves lower, miming offence at my observation. I started to explain I intended no hidden subtext, but Lar waved to indicate all was taken as delivered.

'We are not brothers. Close friends. Known Fergus here forever.' He gently tapped the giant's hand, slapped on the bar like some enormous muddy bird print. 'Used to be a keen cookie too, once upon a forever ago. Loved languages, Welsh mostly. Pugilism he loved more. One passion consumed the other. Anything burning so intensely inevitably cannibalises itself. Took one knock too many, stole his wits in an instant. A left hook across the bar sent him erstwhile. Twenty five minutes he was on the shores of night, learning the landscape of the dreamworlds, while we fanned his rigid form, wet his brow and whispered familiar names in his ear. When at last he woke a part of him was left forever in that place. I like to think, boyishly perhaps, it awaits him upon leaving this plain of lousy strife, like the belongings awaiting a homeward jailbird. The cloak of a lost lifetime. Not for him. He'll slide right into it, fit like a tailored piece, and all of eternity to speak. Not here though.'

Tears welled in his eyes. I took the reins, 'Think nothing of your emotions, man. We each have them. Doubtless I will shed a tear up in the old witch's place. Another life awaits, that much is sure. Grander than this. I'm sure he made, and makes, a fine man. Built like a gladiator. I am sorry to have dredged unpleasantness. I meant only to satisfy my own selfish curiosity. Forgive me. Please, continue.'

'I will at that.'

'It were one night, three years ago. Ferg was there. We'd been called out on account of strange noises near the workers' cottage. They wouldn't work until the evil was killed or driven away. We came down from the high road proper and saw it between the trees ahead. Like a horse it stood, with clumsy stilts supporting an ursine bulk that swayed as it shambled. It drank shadows to conceal its dread presence. Blackness it took for robe. In walking its front paws propelled its cumbersome form, while the rear set, less lengthy, dredged channels in the dirt. In motion it arched to reveal a belly spun of lighter felt, ashen in the scant moonlight. Bundled, it became an orb of shadow, nothingness.'

'Unbeknownst we watched it watching, green eyes like blazing protostars probing for movement. Well it knew to choose this site, one of only two wells being located nearby. In a flash then it was gone, satin-shoed away into the night.'

The tale Lar knew was a scorcher paused. He beamed, an actor awaiting applause. I gathered my jaw from the floor, brushed it and set it back properly.

Each word drew me closer, which Fergus mirrored, until we three sat as witches about the bubbling lip of their cauldron, a coven of pallid specters.

Lar paused to sip and nodded we join.

I wondered had my hobby, in a blink, become too dangerous to justify. It was well telling my employers of ghost hunts, but a wild beast - my insurance wouldn't have it! If it turns out some menagerie escapee, what then was it? Quest for wonder or recklesss folly? Weiss, Wellie and Wardun insurance, even in their most obscure policies, don't pay out for fools. That's why I chose them!

Lar went on, a fresh cigarette painting the air blue in his articulation, 'Each new, shifting moon we came to that spot and watched. We took it upon ourselves to rid the land of danger.'

'Fergus knows a bit about a bit, that's what's left to him, God bless. What he knows is knots. Army training dictates every officer have at least passing knowledge of ten or more useful fastenings.'

'Me? I know about animals. We make a fierce duo. We inquired in advance about a reward, to which the estate responded agreeably, so we set off with lengths of rope overshoulder and the angriest looking traps the furmen could spare, determined to snare it. We planted snares all about its presumed domain.'

'Nothing came. Not a rat. Not a wisp. Not never again. It's the mystery disturbs me most. I'd die happy knowing.'

In his voice a single note of longing rang, dispelling the subterfuge of his intentions and, in the length of a breath, his beings and inner machinations were laid bare. Far from the sinister goldlust and murderous intention I had silently attributed to him, he seemed eager in an earnest fashion, willing in the name of a job done.

I observed Lar, powerful and straight. 'Do I sense an unfinished quest?'

'Aye. Not too subtle, mind.' Lar flashed a toothy smile, the sort a condemned man spits at his executioner. 'You seem a serious man. I didn't know when you first came in parading your manners like fancy knickers. You can't be too sure about a man who gives too many pleases. You're not that sort and have proved such twice over.' Lar imagined that was a compliment from the look he gave me. Expectant almost, between child submitting scribbles for display and cat batting dead mouse onto pillow.

Well, of course I had something to say about that. Cats were hissing. A donnybrook of claws and torn fur not even a hearty stock of iodine could salve. 'And I might say also that I too had cast aspersions on your character, maintaining you were of sinister country stock. As you claim to have been rapturously convinced otherwise, as have I.'

'Once the lady's estate is divided and bequeathed I'll receive my own. I mean to inherit a substantial bursar. I will pay to you a fair sum. In exchange, you will guide me to the hotpots, generally ensuring nothing eats me. When we find it, you're in charge until it's bound.' If he came, it would be on my terms.

'Find it? Slow down. We've seen it once in a hundred times. I'll take you gladly all the same.'

Wordless, we shook hands and drained our horns.

'Tomorrow?' Lar asked. He drew my gaze to an unopened whiskey bottle, which I declined.

'Not so, good man. Tomorrow I will tend my affairs. In the evening, if all is ordered, I will return to discuss further a plan of action. Have you a room I might rent?'

'Not for everyone mind, so don't go saying. There's one in the back. I'll light the fire.'

'Please do.'

I left a generous tip. Before following the publican to the warm hollow, I shook Fergus' hand, assuming he too would be part of our fortean friendship.

While I slumbered, the nightmare broke free her paddock, thundering across the veil of my somnambulant phantasmagoria, its clanging hooves ringing shrill terror.

I saw spined creatures oozing pus, many-eyed. Edgeless orbs hissing like flying snakes from one black abyss to another.

Cats with human faces screamed. A hairless man with a tail curled upwards like a scorpions noxious pike disemboweled himself with a broken mirror.

Last came the bestial form, not unlike that which Lar had described, striding evilly. Two venom coated fangs, uncontained by its snarling mouth, curved inward toward its breast. Catlike claws glinted menacingly. Turning my third eye downwards as if to look upon my feet, I found I was formless, yet the beast circled knowingly around the space my corporeal form should occupy.

I knew instinctively this reverie was more tangible than the others. That if the beast should strike I would die or wake screaming with a crimson pool spreading below me. It sniffed the air, pawing closer.

I woke to my beastless chamber. Sodden, I sought a candle and in its gloam chronicled my nightmare. That night sleep ne'er returned, making groggy my morning plod toward Cairn Cottage.

[queerandpresentdanger]

one

i don’t know how to interpret a months-long silence other than a disposal, a disinvestment, the logical conclusion to the skewed dynamics and devaluing that shaped our entire relationship

i don’t know how to interpret your continued relationship as anything other than complicity in this harm. i don’t blame you, and i would probably do the same thing. but let’s just be honest. y’all chose eachother at the expense of my relationship with you both. again, i get it, i probably would have done the same thing. but that’s still what happened. it still makes me weary of giving you access to my life.

especially when i think of everyone who you both brought into my life. your inner circles. they’re all white. most of them thin. all of them much thinner than me.

i don’t really have a problem with relationships with white folks. i don’t really think i have the privilege in this body to out of turn disqualify entire groups of people from ways of relating to me. (this doesn’t mean i’m not still selective.) but when your closest relationships are exclusively, or primarily with white people, it feels suspect.

it makes me wonder if you even really know how to care for people of color. it makes me think of when my white friend told me about the ease with which white people, and people with access to whiteness, retreat to whiteness when people of color get to be too much, too loud, too demanding, too difficult, no longer worth the social capital you gain by keeping us around. it’s just a simple equation. a matter of input/output. it’s economics, really.

did i get too be too much? when i finally stepped into my work and asked to be treated well by someone i loved? when i said you can’t exploit our relationship to speak to a fat politic i don’t trust you hold, to obscure your fatphobia, to gain insider knowledge, to write about her with depth no other thin person could do in a way to benefit your own career while i hover on the brink of death? when i said no more? when i called the shots? is that the limit?

two

i’m a lot.

i can only imagine how hurtful some of the things i said were in ways i will never know. i can only imagine this is painful and difficult for him too. i can only imagine he misses me too. i can only imagine he doesn’t know how to engage with me after i told him the things i did. intense, scary, spiteful things.

that’s me at my most generous. when should my generosity run out? when did his? when do we reach the equilibrium? are either of us ever truly happy again?

i’m crazy. literally.

i take a pill every day to regulate my brain with the long-term goal of keeping me alive. i don’t know where i would be without it.

you saw the worst of me. you received the worst of me.

i’m a sad, damaged, sick, traumatized person who lashed out and projected and hurt people i love. who would want that in their lives? so much pain, feeling, processing, resentment, trouble. i understand. i don’t know if i would.

i think i’m worth the trouble. i don’t know if everyone does. i don’t know if everyone should. i don’t know if i deserve forgiveness. i don’t know if i forgive myself.

three

the truth is somewhere in the middle

[5hfanfiction]

Wicked Games (Chapter 15)

My mother pulled me aside into my bedroom and I quietly sat on the edge of my bed, dreading what would come next.

My mom sat next to me, and gazed at me softly. “Mila, did you mean what you said?”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “What did I say?”

She seemed disappointed that I didn’t know what she was talking about. “What you said about you and Emma..”

I felt slightly relieved she wasn’t questioning me about Lauren, but was still concerned about what she may be asking about Emma. I tilted my head to the side, looking off into the distance, trying to recall what she was talking about. Then it hit me and I cringed internally for what I had said in the heat of the moment. “Oh..right..”

My mother looked at me expectantly and then tisked when I didn’t add anything else. “Well, did you mean it?”

“Um.. yeah.. I guess..” I spoke uncertainly. I definitely would have meant it a couple weeks ago. Now.. I wasn’t so sure. Everything that’s been happening with Lauren has me confused, and to be honest, sort of forgetting about Emma a little bit. If I was being truthful, I just wanted to explore Lauren some more for the time being, and not become exclusive with Emma again. Atleast not right now. I feel ashamed of myself knowing that’s how I truly feel. That I’m taking Emma, this wonderful girl, for granted. To be fair though, she took me for granted so should I really feel that bad? She wanted space and at the moment, I want some space.

..Only difference is, she wanted space to work on herself. I want space to have sex with someone else.

I shook my head and closed my eyes, a painful feeling rippling across my chest. I always thought I was loyal and honorable in relationships. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can say that anymore. I definitely can’t tell my mom that.

“Mila.. is there something else going on that I should know about?” my mom asked me.

‘There it is’ I thought. She knows. Of course she knows. I suck at keeping secrets from her. I ducked my head sadly, avoiding her peering gaze, worried that she was going to judge me.

We sat in silence for a moment, as my mother gaged my reaction. After awhile, she spoke very quietly, “Are you falling for her?”

“No, no!” I nearly shouted, waving my hands for emphasis.

“But something is happening between you two?” my mother asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer. I nodded in response, burying my face in my hands.

She exhaled heavily, absorbing this information. “Emma doesn’t know?”

I shook my head, my throat starting to close up. It seemed even more horrible as my mother diagnosed the situation.

“Oh honey, please be careful,” she begged me, placing a comforting hand against the small of my back.

Tears were welling up in my eyes. I could tell by her voice that she was hurting for what I was doing, but trying to hide it and stay strong for me. She’s the biggest Camma shipper in the world. I know this news disappoints her deeply. The shame washed over me in even more powerful waves than ever before. “Please don’t tell her,” I barely managed to squeeze out.

My mom put her lips against the side of my head, rubbing her palm in circles against my back. “I know, it’s not my place, Mila.”

I wallowed in shame and embarassment the rest of the night, nearly finishing the plate of flan all by myself. The only thing that made me feel better was Sofi.

At some point during the night, Sofi reached for my hand and dragged me to her bag on the other side of the living room. She told me, “I have something to show you!” She was very excited and I almost fell over, she was dragging me so hard.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to me and grinned widely.

It was a drawing of two girls playing basketball. It held more detail than I would’ve ever expected from someone Sofi’s age. I was completely wowed by her art. My heart was swelling in my chest.

“That’s you,” she pointed to a taller girl. She added a bow to the top of my head, which made me chuckle. “That’s me,” she added, pointing to a smaller girl.

“You play basketball now?” I asked her. I had tried to get her to play with me numerous times growing up and Sofi never seemed interested.

“Yes, I’m more sophisticated now.”

I gave her a funny look that made her giggle. “Right.” I ran my hand through her hair and kissed her forehead. “Thank you. You’re very talented.”

“I wanna be like you,” Sofi chirped.

My heart bursted at her words. I’ve been feeling really down about myself because of everything happening with Lauren. In one moment, Sofi reminded me that maybe I’m not so bad.

My family left the next afternoon. My parents had to get back to their business. Emma stayed, and we spent a great weekend together. I decided I was going to be in the moment with her. Not thinking about Lauren, not thinking about what my mom must think, not thinking about anything else. It worked because we had a blast.

We went to a putt putt place, went out to eat together, and watched lots of Netflix together. As always when I was with Emma, it was a relaxing time filled with plenty of laughter. I was at ease the whole time.

To my surprise, she never brought up my comments at Thanksgiving. Maybe she didn’t want to ruin the good vibes we were having. Maybe she wasn’t ready to talk about that either. Either way, I was extremely relieved.

It was weird though. Emma and I tell eachother everything. We don’t have secrets between us. That fact made me feel more guilty than anything else. She has no clue that I had sex with someone else.

I thought about telling her. I honestly got very close to doing it as she was leaving Sunday afternoon, but I just couldn’t go through with it. I choked. I just had to keep telling myself that omitting the truth was the right thing to do.

She kissed me when she left. I kissed her back with no hesitation. I missed her the moment she was gone.

I was still furious at Lauren. It’s a miracle Emma didn’t figure it out. I went into practice on Monday determined to confront her. I had kept quiet the past couple days because I didn’t want an argument to ensue or anything to somehow get back to Emma, but now I was ready to pounce.. Not literally, but like figuratively..

As was becoming constant, Lauren had little interest in me during practice. This fact still annoyed me. It annoyed me more that it annoyed me.

I didn’t waste time after practice, approaching her as soon as I entered the locker room. She was sitting infront of her locker, unlacing her shoes. Beads of sweat lined her forehead.

“We need to talk,” I stated matter of factly.

Lauren side-eyed me. “Huh?”

I crossed my arms, “This is not something we can discuss with everyone else around. So you need to come over to my place later,” I informed her emotionlessly.

“Talk eh?” Lauren smiled with a gleam.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, talk.”

She looked me up and down, “Whatever you say, Camz.”

Ugh, she is so irritating. I turned on my heels and stormed back to my locker, my rage returning to me. Why was she being so cocky?

I went straight home once I changed out of my practice uniform. All I could do once I got there was pace around in anger. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. About ten minutes after I got home there was a knock at the door.

I peeked through the blinds and saw that it was in fact Lauren. I opened the door and then charged back up the stairs without even greeting her or giving her a glance.

I stopped in my kitchen, awaiting her entrance. Her footsteps were loud and the wooden stairs creaked with every step. I was starting to feel anxious and thought over everything I wanted to say to her one more time in my head.

Then finally, Lauren appeared at the top of the steps. Her hair was no longer in a ponytail, but instead was flowing down the sides of her face. They were damp as she evidently took a shower. She was wearing a long sleeve black T-shirt and some gray joggers with bright white Nikes. Her outfit was completely casual, and yet she had never seemed so alluring to me as she did in this moment. I swallowed, forcing myself to remember the real issues at hand.

To my utter shock, Lauren didn’t stop coming towards me. Instead she walked directly infront of me, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her head started to lean forward.

“No, Lauren,” I said dismally, my hands placed on her shoulders, preventing her from moving any closer. “We need to talk about some things.”

Her arms slid off of me. “Really? You actually want to talk?”

“Yeah? Didn’t I say that like three times? What, did you think this was a bootycall?”

“I mean..” Lauren stepped forward towards me again, biting her lip, “I was hoping that it was..”

“Well, it’s not.”

Lauren stepped backwards, dejection in her features, “Oh.”

I cleared my throat and crossed my arms, trying to convey toughness and resoluteness. “What game were you trying to play on Thanksgiving?”

Her face slumped, “I wasn’t playing a game.”

“Well then what was the problem?”

She thought about it for a moment, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t know Emma was going to be here..” she admitted, looking off to the side and shrugging.

“I didn’t either,” I retorted.

“Well.. I would’ve liked to have known before I showed up..” she trailed off with noticeable discomfort.

“What, why?.. Were you jealous?” I sneered.

“What? No!” she answered defensively. That stupidly arrogant look was finally wiped off her face. However, she was only fazed for a few seconds. “I mean.. unless you wanted me to be,” she said tugging my shirt at my waist.

Why is she so touchy-feely right now? Can this girl be any more confusing than she already is?

“Stop. You are a fucking mess of a puzzle that I can’t seem to work out because the pieces keep changing.”

She backed up, looking more serious now. Her eyes locked on mine. She looked confused. She looked hurt. She looked conflicted. When she didn’t say anything more, I decided to speak up.

“What are you doing Lauren? Most of the time you act like I don’t even exist and then out of nowhere, you’re all over me. Then you come to my family’s Thanksgiving dinner, with Emma here, and you try to stir the pot? Like seriously, what in the hell are you doing?” I harshly questioned her.

She just looked back at me with a strangled expression, looking like she wanted to say something, but was unsure of it. After a very long time with no response, I finally broke the silence with a pointed question.

“What do you want from me Lauren?” I asked more softly this time.

She stared at me with a hollowed expression. She shook her head and sighed wearily. “Honestly, I don’t really know how to explain it to you.”

“I don’t want to be an experiment,” I interjected.

She shook her head violently, eyes slightly wider and quickly responded, “What? No-”

I cut her off. “If you want an experiment, you can go find yourself another lesbian, cause I’m not doing that.”

“Camila. You are not an experiment, ok? It’s not like that..” she tried to reassure me.

“If you say so,” I shrugged, not convinced.

“Look, I know that’s what it may look like, but that’s not what this is. I’m not just hooking up with you to see what it’s like to be with a girl. Yes, being with a girl is new to me, but that’s not why I’m doing this. I wouldn’t want to do this with any other girl. I’m attracted to you. I really am.”

“Most people are,” I said jokingly with a deadpan expression. I was feeling better the more she spoke. I believed her.

She blinked at me unamused.

“Man! You never laugh at my jokes anymore,” I whined with a pout. I raised my arm and flicked the bottom of her chin with my finger, “You’re always so serious now.”

“That’s not true,” she disagreed.

“Yes it is, Lern,” I insisted with a smirk.

She frowned at me and shook her head.

“See!” I said pointing at her. “Exhibit A right there.”

“Whatever,” she huffed. “Can we get back on topic please?”

“I’ll take that as an admission of guilt.”

“Anyways,” she said, disregarding my comment, “I promise this is not an experiment. Just two people who are attracted to eachother… acting on that attraction,” she explained. “This is mutually beneficial for us both right?”

I shrugged, not really certain if that was true or not.

“I mean, you already have a girl lined up that you’re going to marry right? And I’m straight. So, this is just something to help us both get out our aggressions and what not.”

I raised my eyebrow at her, “Our aggressions?”

She looked off to the side, clearly getting flustered which was my favorite thing to do to her. “Yeah.. I mean.. sexual frustration.. and stuff..” she struggled with her words and I grinned at her slyly as she desperately tried to formulate words to explain her thoughts.

She continued to struggle to try and find coherence and I abruptly put a stop to that by grazing my index finger against her lips. “So, you want to be friends with benefits basically?”

She just looked at me and nodded. The look in her eyes conveying that same nervous uncertainty that I had begun to be well acquainted with.

Taking part in a 'friends with benefits’ situation had never been something I pictured myself doing, but I couldn’t deny how much I wanted Lauren and her body. Anytime she was within my vicinity I could hardly focus on anything else. Fighting it was clearly not working. It only made the temptation more intense. So far, nothing bad had really come of our nights spent together, so maybe it isn’t as crazy an idea as I initially thought.

She claims she’s attracted to me, but can I really trust her on that? She’s given me no reason to think she was anything but straight the whole time I’ve known her until these recent weeks. She seemed genuine with what was she saying to me, but still.. How do I know she’s not using me for some college girl on girl fantasy she wants to try out? In all reality though, do I really mind being used?

My question got answered pretty quickly after I thought it. Her hand brushed my hand as her greens stared deeply into mine, making a chill run through my body. “I can live my life, you can live your life, and when we both are feeling.. frustrated.. we can help eachother out..” she spoke idealistically. “No drama, just sex.”

I exhaled comically, knowing she was referencing my comments from the morning after the first time we had sex. I still couldn’t quite read her intentions. In some ways, she truly seems to be attracted to me, but then she is so insistent that has no attraction towards girls. Either she is confused or she is using me. The more I looked at her, considering my options, the more I didn’t mind being used. She was like a goddess. She always looked heavenly, like she had just walked out of a magazine.

“No drama, just sex,” I repeated, lifting my hand to brush a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. She nodded, clenching her jaw at my contact. “As long as we both have an understanding..”

The tension could probably be cut with a knife. The silence in the room was deafening. I could hear every breath she took. I stepped forward very slowly and I noticed her breathing sped up. Our noses were practically touching we were so close now. I no longer could look at anything other than her lips. They parted slightly as I got closer and closer.

“I’m straight,” Lauren randomly insisted.

A crooked smile etched across my lips, “Ok,” I said as I leaned in to kiss her. She melted against my mouth. I pulled away after a moment, biting my lip and fluttering my eyelashes at her. Then I looked directly into her greens, “You’re not gonna be straight tonight.”

________

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